Strange Rivers – a Fields of Concorde novel by Ash Braley

Strange Rivers, a continuation of the story that began in An Older Kind Of Justice, is a reflection on the unseen ways we connect with our families and our heritage, as well as the chance events that shift the course of our lives to bring us both pain and healing.

Still recovering from tragedy and loss, The Fields of Concorde tiny house community faces an identity crisis as an increasingly hostile and volatile owner gets ready to sell it off to a high-rolling developer. People from Cassandra's past start to show up determined to have a piece of the action - at her expense..

Newly married and now a father, Jake struggles to heal from a life of loss and trauma. Adrift from his big family and the South Boston community where he was sure of his role, he is painfully aware that he is holding himself back from success. He's building the life he always wanted - so why isn't he happier?

Cassandra has lost her footing as she navigates the new roles that she never intended for herself, and struggles to know herself without the professional achievement that's always defined her. Being important and successful always came easily - now she lacks direction and even the motivation to figure out what's missing.

Separately and together, Jake and Cassandra must confront the dark places in their lives, and the shock of finding success and healing where they least expected it.

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Ash Braley has had serial careers as a musician, software engineer, photographer, and videographer. She and her husband left their complicated life behind to go live in a tiny house in North Carolina. She loves hiking, strong coffee, using the latest technology, and, of course, writing something that matters.

She can be reached at StrangeRiversNovel@gmail.com

I catch an updraft from warm air over the field. I can feel the core of the earth, currents like veins running under the ground. Gentle glide, circling. There is the joy of wind and sun and earth, of trees and water and mountains and life, everywhere there is life. Rabbits and mice in the grass. I watch them, but there is no hurry. Time slows in the silence of the sky. Sometimes people come here too. A man and a woman, on the fence at the edge. Three heads: one red, one brown, and now a little one, held up to see me. They are unaware that the wave is about to break down on them. But I am here, always here. I am watching.