The Passage: Sequel to the Award-Winning Historical Romance Shaman

By Kelly Z. Conrad

The sequel to the award-winning,
historical romance novel Shaman is here: The Passage

Picking up the story where Shaman ended, The Passage continues the saga of Dr. Matt Tyler and Degan, the Seneca woman whose life he saved.
In the spring of 1869, Dr. Matt Tyler has returned to his home in Washington from the Allegheny Reservation with Degan and their young son, Adam, to begin their life together as a family. But Matt soon discovers a long-held family secret that upends his world and threatens the Tyler family legacy.
As Degan tries to adjust to her new life in the affluent surroundings of the well-to-do of the Victorian Era, her bond with Matt is tested again and again through struggle and unspeakable tragedy.
In rich detail from new settings across the globe, new characters — as well as familiar and beloved characters from Shaman — all play against the backdrop of the epic love story of Matt and Degan.
From Washington, the seat of power in America, to the wealthy neighborhoods of London, to the tropical shores of Cape Palmas in West Africa, The Passage continues the poignant and inspiring story of great love that transcends cultural differences and intolerance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781663244673

Kelly Z. Conrad

Kelly Z. Conrad lives in Maryland with her husband of 20 years, Marcus, and their cat, Charlie. Having spent her career working in the communications and mental health care fields, she retired in 2016 and now enjoys being able to write full time. The Passage is her second novel, a sequel to her award-winning historical romance novel, Shaman, published in 2012.

Book preview

Copyright © 2022 Kelly Z. Conrad.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

844-349-9409

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-6632-4466-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-4467-3 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 08/29/2022

CONTENTS

Part One

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Part Two

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Part Three

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Acknowledgements and other Notes

For Marcus

You live very deep in my heart.

Part One

CHAPTER 1

May 1869 Washington

S teppin g down from his carriage at the perimeter of the cemetery, Matt Tyler caught sight of a woman he did not recognize standing beside his father’s grave. Slight of build, she was dressed in a plain gray frock with a black shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. She stood very still, hands folded, head bowed as if in prayer. He noticed she wore no bonnet, unusual for any woman outside this time of the morning. From a distance he couldn’t tell if her hair was blond or gray, but it was pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck.

She seemed unaware of his presence as he approached quietly, not wanting to disturb her meditation. He waited until she raised her head and opened her eyes. She took a quick breath when she saw him standing a few paces from her.

He touched the brim of his hat. I beg your pardon, ma’am. I’m sorry if I startled you. Matthew Tyler.

Her expression changed to surprised recognition. I’m Mrs. Olivia Phillips. You’re Dr. Tyler’s son.

Yes. Matt took note of the certainty in her tone. His mind raced to find a polite way to question who she was and why she appeared to be praying over his father’s grave.

A gentle smile settled on her mouth and her eyes grew moist.

Do you visit my father’s grave often?

Oh. Well, I—

I don’t mean to intrude or appear forward. It’s just that... I don’t believe we’ve met before. If I may ask, how did you know my father?

Though the late May sun was warm, her skirt fluttered with the breeze and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. I was a patient of his. For many years.

I see. He glanced quickly around but saw only his own carriage parked along the roadside. May I offer you a ride somewhere?

Her eyes swept nervously from Matt to his carriage and back, as though she were trying to decide if she should accept his offer.

With a slight bow, he smiled. I can assure you, you will be quite safe with me.

Her face relaxed. That’s very kind of you. Please, she waved a hand toward the gravesite and backed away. Take your time. I’ll wait for you by your carriage.

Thank you. Touching his hat again, he watched as she turned toward the road, then knelt beside the patch of grass under which his father had been laid to rest more than two years before.

When would reality ever set in? He still expected to look up and see his father standing there, eager to hear the latest news of his medical practice and his young family. The elder Dr. Tyler had been endlessly interested in his children’s lives, offering reassurance or empathy, as needed. In the past two years, Matt had learned to rely for comfort and guidance only on his memories of his father.

He moved his fingers across his father’s full name etched in the headstone, his eyes resting on the date of death. He’d never gotten the chance to tell his father about Degan, the Seneca woman he’d discovered in his barn one cold January night more than two years ago. How she’d been gravely injured and through his efforts, had recovered, and was now the woman he knew he would love for the rest of his life. His father had never met their son, his namesake and first grandchild, would never offer words of advice or encouragement to the boy as he grew to face the challenges of manhood. Matt contemplated how much more difficult it would be to raise his son without his father’s presence in their lives, without his strong character, his experience, even his sense of humor that so often put everything into proper perspective.

Trust your instincts, Matthew, his father’s voice echoed in his head.

I miss you, Father, he whispered, swallowing hard against the lump of raw emotion in his throat.

A while later at the roadside, Matt offered Mrs. Phillips his hand to assist her into the carriage. Settling comfortably on the padded seat, she smoothed her skirt and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

Beside her, Matt picked up the reins. Now, where may I take you? He clicked at the horse and the carriage lurched forward.

I don’t live far from here, Dr. Tyler.

He looked at her with surprise. How did you know I’m a doctor?

Oh, your father told me. He was very proud of you.

He smiled. It’s kind of you to say so.

So like your father, she murmured.

He looked at her curiously, more for the wistful tone of her voice than for the words she’d spoken. He tried to recall any mention of a Mrs. Phillips by his father or mother over the years. She did not appear as someone who would have socialized within his parents’ circle of friends, either in her dress or her demeanor. She seems too unpretentious. He made a mental note to ask Daisy later if she knew anything about a Mrs. Phillips.

When I arrived at Father’s gravesite this morning, there was a woman there, Matt told Daisy that afternoon as they sat in her small office just off the kitchen at Tyler Mansion. The chief domestic in the household for many years, and surrogate mother to both Matt and his sister Caroline, Daisy had been planning the menus for his sister’s upcoming wedding breakfast to be held in the home in less than a week.

Anyone we know? she asked, making notes on her pad in delicate script.

A Mrs. Olivia Phillips.

Her head snapped up and she looked wide-eyed at Matt before quickly dropping her gaze again.

You know this woman.

She studied her notes. I’ve heard her name.

Matt leaned toward her. Who is she?

Matthew, please, she whispered, some things are best left … undisturbed.

He frowned. What are you talking about? Just tell me who she is and how you know her.

Daisy sighed. I should not be the one to tell you of this.

Well, who should? Mother?

He was startled to see genuine alarm on her face. Never mention to your mother that you’ve met this woman!

Why?

She placed her fountain pen on the pad. Remaining silent, she put her hands to her forehead and closed her eyes, as though trying to decide the best way to address his curiosity. He waited patiently, noticing her gray hair, and her hands, wrinkled and gnarled from years of service to his family.

Slowly, she rose and went to peek out into the deserted kitchen, then closed the door. Do you remember the first time you were telling your mother about Miss Degan? She settled again at her desk. It was here at the mansion, after you brought her back here to Washington from the reservation. And Miss Kathleen told you there had been a woman, a patient of Dr. Tyler’s, who had… misinterpreted his intentions.

Matt searched his brain for a moment, then a vague memory dawned. Yes, I remember her saying this woman had been a victim of her husband’s violence and had come to Father for treatment. That she had misinterpreted his medical care for affection? And the matter took some time to clear up. It was this woman? This Mrs. Phillips was the one who…?

Yes, Daisy said.

But… she must have been quite young at the time.

She was young. Just married and very unhappy. At her father’s insistence, the poor girl married a dangerous man she did not know. Dr. Tyler was kind to her. Perhaps she saw him as a father figure at first, I don’t know.

There’s obviously a lingering affection there, for her to be visiting Father’s grave after all this time.

Yes, there must be, Daisy said matter-of-factly, as if hoping the subject would now be dropped. She picked up her pen and resumed her work, but Matt sensed there was more to the story.

Daisy? Her refusal to look at him confirmed his assumption. There’s more to this than you’re telling me, isn’t there?

Why would you say that?

Because I know you.

She looked up, determination in her tone. Matthew, I have never been disloyal to the Tyler family, and I do not intend to start now.

I’m not asking you to be disloyal. I think I have a right to know what really happened. If I have to, I’ll go directly to Mrs. Phillips for the full story.

She won’t tell you anything. You’re a stranger to her.

Regardless, I’ll find out somehow. I’d rather hear the truth from you. I’d like to think that would be your preference as well.

She raised her chin. Her eyes, though faded with age, met his with a glint of hard steel. In barely a whisper, she stated, "I should not be the one telling you this, but… I do believe you have a right to know. Dr. Tyler’s actions were not misinterpreted by Mrs. Phillips."

As the meaning of her statement sank in, revelation registered on Matt’s face. You mean… Are you saying there was genuine affection between them?

She nodded.

He swallowed hard. You’re saying the affection was mutual?

Yes.

How long did this go on?

Some years.

Stunned, Matt sat back in his chair as if pushed. He could not form words to process the enormity of what he had just heard. His head filled with additional questions burning for answers. His father had actually developed genuine feelings for a young Mrs. Phillips? His thoughts raced back to that day when his mother first told him about this unfortunate situation, as she had called it. Feeling again the sting of her brutal reaction to the news of his union with Degan, he was unable to remember any further details she might have shared about this woman. Could it be possible that his father and this Mrs. Phillips had… Suddenly, his perception of his father shifted dramatically.

How much did Mother know of this?

Miss Kathleen eventually came to suspect it was more than a doctor-patient relationship, but for a long time, she didn’t know anything. She thought it was simply your father’s usual tender heart for the poor and disadvantaged.

But how could Father have lived a lie like that? How could he…?

Matthew, please don’t let this news cloud your view of your father. I could never forgive myself if telling you the truth somehow tarnished your memories of him. He was a great man. But even great men have a need to be appreciated and understood.

For the first time in his life, Matt was beginning to comprehend all that Daisy must have seen and known of his parents’ marriage. He realized that her view of their union would have been significantly different from his or Caroline’s, even though they all lived under the same roof for years. Matt knew all too well that his mother could be rigid, cold, and elitist, but he had always assumed his father had somehow found a way to accept her and love her despite the glaring differences in their personalities. Now, he was learning that his father had apparently found the comfort of commonality in the company of another man’s wife.

But what about her husband?

Mr. Phillips was a violent man with a cruel streak. They hadn’t been married too many years when he took ill with a bout of pneumonia one winter. Died right after Christmas that year. Left poor Mrs. Phillips with a young child to raise by herself. But before he took sick, that man beat Mrs. Phillips pretty bad, while she was expecting their boy. All the domestics were talking about it for weeks.

Matt grimaced, hardly able to imagine how a man could ever strike a woman, especially one who was carrying a child.

But she was all right?

Yes, she delivered a healthy baby, thank the Lord.

And the child?

A grown man by now, she said, focusing again on her notes.

Daisy? he coaxed. When you can’t look at me, I know there’s more.

There was talk at the time, she whispered. That boy looked nothing like Mr. Phillips. She met his eyes. He looked… more like your father.

Astounded, Matt opened his mouth, but no words would come. Daisy’s expression turned to one of concern and she put a hand on his arm. Are you all right?

He looked up. Did Mother know? About the baby?

I’m sure she suspected, as we all did. People talk, rumors are spread. Gossip that begins among domestics eventually makes its way to the rest of the household. But of course, no one ever came out and said that Dr. Tyler was the boy’s father.

Where is he now? My… Matt swallowed hard, …half-brother?

She hesitated again. He could see that she was struggling with how much she should tell him. Finally, Samuel Phillips lives with his mother.

Samuel. Samuel Phillips, he repeated and took another deep breath. Does Cara know?

I don’t think so. I’ve never said anything to her.

Matt studied Daisy’s face for a long moment. You would have taken this secret to your grave if I hadn’t pressed you, wouldn’t you?

Yes.

He smiled and touched her arm. I admire your loyalty and your discretion. The Tyler family has been very fortunate to include you all these years. I appreciate you telling me all of this. I know it wasn’t easy.

She returned his smile and put her hand over his. Your father was a great man, Matthew. Please, don’t ever forget that.

I know. But even so, he had this… other life. Another family, of sorts. It’s so strange to think about him in this new light, as if I’m thinking about two different people. I’m feeling a bit numb right now. He frowned. Somehow, it changes how I think of Mother.

How so?

I think I feel more sympathetic toward her. Even if she wasn’t certain the boy was Father’s, the suspicion would have been a heavy burden. And which would be more difficult to bear? The suspicion or the certainty? He was staring into an unseen distance as his thoughts crystalized. As a younger man, I always relied on a childhood belief that my parents’ marriage was solid, despite the cracks in the veneer. Now, I’m seeing layers I never knew were there.

Daisy was watching his face as he processed aloud the shifting of long-standing convictions.

I suppose it makes me see both my parents as… more fallible. More human.

I understand. A few silent moments settled between them. Will you be telling Miss Caroline?

I don’t know. His eyes lifted to her face. If I do, it won’t be for some time. With her wedding to Jonah coming up so soon… and then they leave for their honeymoon and for his missionary post in Africa. He shook his head. Part of me feels she should not be kept in the dark about this woman from Father’s past, but I don’t want to burden her. Or distract her. She’ll have enough to adjust to very soon.

The modest white house sat near the end of Lamont Street, a quiet neighborhood not far from Tyler Mansion. Rows of purple irises on either side of the porch steps swayed in the breeze as Matt approached the front door. The carriage ride from his home in Georgetown had not been long enough to allow him time to think of what he would say to Mrs. Phillips. The revelations he’d learned yesterday from his conversation with Daisy had spawned a deep curiosity about Olivia Phillips, and a determination to see her again. He wanted to become better acquainted with the woman whose company his father had shared for so many years.

He lifted the brass knocker and tapped it against its base. Within moments, he heard light footsteps, then Mrs. Phillips opened the door. He watched a mix of surprise and misgiving settle on her delicate features.

Dr. Tyler!

Good afternoon, Mrs. Phillips. I hope I’m not disturbing you.

Not at all. An uneasy moment passed before she offered, Would you like to come in? and opened the door wider.

Thank you. He removed his hat and stepped into the foyer.

Please, come into the parlor.

Mrs. Phillips silently took her seat in an armchair at the fireplace as Matt settled across from her. Clearing his throat, he found himself at a loss for words, the original purpose of his visit dissolving in the space between them.

I know this is unusual, my visiting you in your home when we barely know each other, and without an invitation to call. I don’t mean to appear bold or forward.

It’s quite all right, Dr. Tyler, she replied graciously. It gives me another chance to thank you for your kindness in bringing me home yesterday.

Matt waved a hand. It was my pleasure. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his thoughts. I am hoping you can solve a mystery for me.

A mystery?

Yes. You see, when we met at the cemetery, as you might imagine, I was surprised to see you there. We’d never met before, and yet you were visiting my father’s grave as… someone close to him would do. I felt an immediate association with you, as I must admit, I still miss my father terribly and… I wonder if you do as well.

Mrs. Phillips stared at her hands in her lap, the corners of her mouth turning up in a sad smile. Your father was a good man, Dr. Tyler. He helped so many people. She looked up. His kindness toward me is something I can never forget.

Matt searched her face, his mind suddenly blank. He knew now that his decision to come here had been a foolish one. He’d imagined having a frank conversation with Mrs. Phillips about her relationship with his father. But now, with the woman sitting just a few feet from him, he realized there was no polite way to ask this woman he’d just met if she and his father had been intimately involved over the years. And why would she admit to it? Daisy’s words echoed in his head: She won’t tell you anything, you’re a stranger to her. The silence between them grew uncomfortable.

Mrs. Phillips, I—

The noise of movement from another part of the house caught their attention.

Ma? a man’s voice called.

She tensed noticeably, darting her eyes from the doorway to Matt’s face and back. In the parlor, Samuel, she called out.

A tall young man with dark brown hair entered the room. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were entertaining a visitor.

Matt stood, taking note of Samuel’s broad shoulders and solid build. He was clean-shaven except for a neatly trimmed mustache. Studying his features a little too closely, Matt offered his hand.

Dr. Tyler, this is my son, Samuel Phillips. Samuel, this is Dr. Matthew Tyler.

An unmistakable spark of recognition snapped to life in Samuel’s gray-blue eyes as they shook hands. Dr. Matthew Tyler, he repeated in a strangely careful tone. At that moment, Matt would have given anything to be able to read the young man’s thoughts.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phillips, Matt said mechanically. There was some nameless force that passed between them and from the curious expression in his eyes, he was certain Samuel felt it too.

Likewise, Dr. Tyler. What brings you to our little neck of the woods? Samuel asked with a tight smile, pulling his hand away.

I… thought I would call on Mrs. Phillips. We met at the cemetery yesterday.

Yes, she goes there frequently.

Samuel—

But you do, Ma, he said, turning toward her for a moment, then back to Matt. She finds comfort there, though I am at a loss as to why that would be so.

Sometimes comfort is found in unlikely places, I suppose, Matt said, smiling at Mrs. Phillips. I’ll be traveling out of the country with my family in a few days, so I was eager to… visit my father prior to our departure.

Mrs. Phillips returned his smile and he saw understanding, perhaps relief, in her eyes.

Samuel extended his hand toward Matt’s chair and stepped toward the settee. Please, Dr. Tyler, do sit down.

I really should take my leave. I’ve already disrupted your afternoon.

Not at all. In fact, I’ve been wanting to make your acquaintance for some time, Samuel said and Matt noticed a look of wary alarm cross Olivia Phillips’ features.

Oh?

You see, I’ve heard so much about your father, Dr. Adam Tyler, Samuel continued. A deafening silence descended on the room and it seemed that both Matt and Mrs. Phillips were holding their breath as they waited to hear in what direction the young man would take the conversation. His great accomplishment of getting Hamilton General built and operational… just before his untimely death. You must be very proud of his work.

Feeling his relief combining with that of Samuel’s mother, Matt’s shoulders relaxed. Yes, he worked very hard on Hamilton General. His legacy to the community he loved.

His legacy, Samuel recited.

What work are you involved in, Mr. Phillips, if I may ask?

I assist my uncle in managing a textile factory, Samuel said.

My brother, Cyrus Williams, took over ownership of a dress factory on Missouri Avenue some time ago, Olivia said. He’s been kind enough to take Samuel under his wing and bring him into the business.

Samuel shifted in his seat and addressed his mother. Well, I do have a few ideas about modernizing the machinery and the production processes. He turned back to Matt. It’s my uncle’s plan that I take over the business one day.

I see.

Mrs. Phillips rushed to change the subject. Dr. Tyler, you mentioned traveling out of the country?

Yes, we’ll be sailing for London soon. A colleague of my father’s has invited us for a visit. My wife and I will be staying there for a few weeks and—

I should like to meet your family, Samuel blurted.

He turned to the younger man and saw an odd look on his face. While his tone had been polite enough, Matt sensed an underlying motive. Social decorum prevented him from responding with his first thought: Why? He instinctively felt uneasy with Samuel Phillips’ interest in his family, though he could not have named a specific reason.

Do you have children, Dr. Tyler? Mrs. Phillips asked, her interest feeling more genuine than that of her son.

Yes, Matt replied. We have a little boy. His name is Adam, after his grandfather.

She smiled warmly. How lovely.

How fortunate for you, Dr. Tyler. A son named after your father. Sarcasm simmered just beneath the surface of his tone. He turned to his mother, whose face had frozen, then turned back to Matt. You do have so much to be proud of.

Matt glanced briefly at Mrs. Phillips. I am, very proud indeed. He stood abruptly, hat in hand. Forgive me, but I must be on my way. I have another appointment I must keep, he lied, wondering if his hosts felt as awkward as he did. Turning to Mrs. Phillips who was extending her hand, he bowed and lightly squeezed her fingers.

It was a pleasure to see you again, Dr. Tyler, she said.

The pleasure was mine. Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Phillips.

Samuel was now standing behind him and when he turned, they shook hands again.

Good to meet you, Dr. Tyler, Samuel said as he escorted Matt to the small foyer and toward the door. When you come back from London, my mother and I shall return the call.

Of course, he replied without thinking. He stepped onto the front porch and replaced his hat. Good afternoon.

He heard the glass tremble in its frame as Samuel pushed the front door shut. Walking briskly to his carriage, he filled his lungs with fresh air, relieved to be out from under the heavy, invisible weight of the encounter. Though the original purpose of his visit had been a bad idea, nevertheless, he now knew with certainty what he’d come here to find out.

Even as Samuel Phillips had presented the outward façade of a polite host engaging in appropriate conversation, Matt had felt an unmistakable double meaning in his words. But it had been more than just his words. From the moment Samuel entered, the room had taken on an undefinable chill. While Mrs. Phillips had been kind and sincere, Samuel’s conduct bore the air of forced civility. He wondered what true feelings were roiling just beneath the surface. Resentment? Anger? Jealousy? He couldn’t shake an ominous suspicion that coming here today had been a mistake.

When you come back from London, my mother and I shall return the call.

Samuel returned to the parlor, noting a look of apprehension on his mother’s face.

Well, now you’ve met your half-brother, she murmured.

Yes. He settled into the chair across from her, his face twisted in a smirk. I’ve now met the great Dr. Matthew Tyler. Only son and heir to the great Dr. Adam Tyler’s fortune and legacy.

Samuel—

Somehow, I thought he’d be taller. In fact, I’m surprised he didn’t have to crouch down to enter our humble little house. I suppose we should feel honored that he was willing to lower himself to call on us at all.

Samuel, he obviously doesn’t know about… our history. There’s no need to be unpleasant.

I’m not so sure he doesn’t know. Why would he call on you, uninvited, just one day after making your acquaintance?

She fell silent, unable to think of a good reason for a near-stranger to break with social convention in such a