Cascade
Authors: Lisa Tawn Bergren
Tags: #teen, #Italy, #Medieval, #river of time, #Romance, #Waterfall, #torrent, #Time Travel
What people are saying about …
Cascade
“A romantic tale that twists and turns with every page,
Cascade
is the ideal sequel to
Waterfall
. A riveting tale to the very end, this adventure follows Gabi back into the arms of the dashing Marcello as the events of history unfold around them in the present. Lisa T. Bergren leaves us with only one question: Can their love transcend time? Read this book—you won’t regret it. I could hardly put it down!”
Shannon Primicerio,
author of
The Divine Dance, God Called a Girl
, and the TrueLife Bible study series
“While I found
Waterfall
to be thoroughly enjoyable, I thought
Cascade
was completely captivating. It’s so refreshing to read teen lit that isn’t full of darkness but is still exciting. The characters aren’t just more Bella and Edward wannabes—they have a fresh romance all their own, and that love story feels utterly real. I’ll be recommending this book to my teen readers every chance I get.”
Lindsay Olson,
teen specialist for the Pikes Peak Library District
Praise for …
Waterfall
“I love stories about strong, capable young women—and I love stories set in other countries. Mix in a little time travel and some colorful characters, and Lisa Bergren has stirred up an exciting and memorable tale that teen readers should thoroughly enjoy!”
Melody Carlson,
author of the Diary of a Teenage Girl and TrueColors series
“As the mother of two teens and two preteens, I found
Waterfall
to be a gutsy but clean foray into the young adult genre for Lisa T. Bergren, who handles it with a grace and style all her own. Gabriella Betarrini yanked me out of my time and into a harrowing adventure as she battled knights—and love! I heartily enjoyed Gabriella’s travel back into time, and I heartily look forward to
Cascade,
River of Time #2!”
Ronie Kendig,
author of
Nightshade
“I loved every minute of this adventure that took me out of our time and into the fourteenth century, and I marveled at how true to life teenage Gabi remained when facing extraordinary circumstances. Under Bergren’s guidance, I look forward to time traveling again in the next book of the River of Time series.”
Donita K. Paul,
best-selling author of the DragonKeeper Chronicles and the Chiril Chronicles
“Diving into
Waterfall
reminded me why Lisa T. Bergren is one of my favorite authors. Unfolding adventures, fascinating characters, and exciting plot twists make this a stellar read. I loved it! Highly recommended!”
Tricia Goyer,
award-winning author of twenty-five books, including
The Swiss Courier
The River of Time Series
Waterfall
Cascade
Torrent (Fall 2011)
CASCADE
Published by David C Cook
4050 Lee Vance View
Colorado Springs, CO 80918 U.S.A.
David C Cook Distribution Canada
55 Woodslee Avenue, Paris, Ontario, Canada N3L 3E5
David C Cook U.K., Kingsway Communications
Eastbourne, East Sussex BN23 6NT, England
David C Cook and the graphic circle C logo
are registered trademarks of Cook Communications Ministries.
All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for review purposes,
no part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form
without written permission from the publisher.
The website addresses recommended throughout this book are offered as a resource to you. These websites are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement on the part of David C Cook, nor do we vouch for their content.
This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.
LCCN 2011923883
ISBN 978-1-4347-6431-7
eISBN 978-1-4347-0401-6
© 2011 Lisa T. Bergren
The Team: Don Pape, Traci DePree, Amy Kiechlin, Sarah Schultz, Caitlyn York, Karen Athen
Cover Design: Gearbox Studios
Cover Images: 4495136, 123RF, royalty free
PHP3075584, Veer Images, royalty free
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition 2011
There is always one unexpected moment in
life when a door opens to let the future in.
—Graham Greene
Dear Reader,
Few of us have a real handle on the medieval time period and Italy’s history. So here are a few reminders before you dive back into Gabi and Lia’s story.…
In this era, Italy was volatile and divided into lots of city-states. The Vatican had been moved to Avignon, France, because the pope(s) felt safer there. The Vatican would stay away from Rome for almost seventy years total.
City-states were sometimes called communes, or republics, and were run by semidemocratic bodies or groups of elected leaders. In Siena, this group was the Council of Nine. Florence, or Firenze, had two councils with more than five hundred men; I’ve chosen to represent them with the fictional grandi, based on a smaller group that actually served as city advisors to the Fiorentini (people of Florence).
Other territories were ruled by rich lords with hilltop fortresses or castles—but most had to be in league with others (or had powerful connections) if they hoped to hold their territory for any length of time. Many hired mercenaries or knights to help them fight off anyone attempting to take what was theirs.
Florence and Siena, like all of the big city-states, alternated between peace and a struggle for power and territory. In the thirteenth century, the terms Guelph and Ghibelline came into use as people fought either for the emperor’s imperialistic goals (Ghibelline) or to follow the pope’s leadership (Guelph). For the purposes of this fourteenth-century series, Florence/Firenze is referred to as “Guelph” and Siena as “Ghibelline,” which is a simplistic generalization of their loyalties. But trust me, if we went deeper, I’d really risk losing you.
I see the backdrop of politics and history as seasoning to the fictional stew; the heart of the meal is the story itself. My hope is that this recap helps you stay with that!
—LTB
Contents
AfterWords
CHAPTER 1
Mom freaked out when she saw us, of course.
I couldn’t blame her, with Lia in her medieval gown. And me looking like I’d been mauled by a bear. Especially when two meaty guards were hauling us into Dr. Manero’s tent. “It’s all right, Mom,” I said, hands out, as she rushed toward us. Her face was white.
“Lasciateli,”
she shouted in irritation—
let them go
—brushing the guards’ hands off our arms, staring at the blood on me. “Girls, what in the—”
“She’s all right, Mom,” Lia began. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It’s okay,” I said, pushing her hands away as she touched my underdress—a gown made hundreds of years before—and tried to figure out what kind of wound had made me look like I’d been doused in ketchup. “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”
But her fingers remained on the raw weave of the silk fabric. Her beautiful blue eyes widened, then her narrow brows lowered as she rubbed it between thumb and forefinger and bent to study the weave. She turned and touched Lia’s gown. “Where did you get these clothes?”
“Mom,” I whispered, “can we talk about it alone?” Manero—Dr. Manero, my parents’ long-time adversary, a bigwig with the
Societa Archeologico dell’ Italia
—was staring at us with a smug look on his face, as if he had us all exactly where he wanted us.
“They were found in Tomb Two, Dr. Betarrini,” he said, crossing his arms. I pictured him stuffing a cigar into his mouth, leaning back in a chair, and putting his feet up on the desk, hands behind his head. “You know what giving unauthorized persons access can do to one’s site approvals.”
Mom frowned now and shook her head a little. “Impossible. They’d never…” Her words faded as she saw the sheepish looks in our eyes. “No. Girls, tell me you weren’t inside. No. Why?”
“Mom, we need to talk to you alone,” I said again.
She stared at me, eye to eye—we’re exactly the same height—and then at Lia, and finally at Manero.
“Ci serve un’ attimo.”
We need a minute.
“What’s to say? Yes, your papers are in order, but you clearly need my help here to secure the site. If your own daughters feel free to run roughshod over—”
“We were not ‘running roughshod’ over the site,” I bit back at him. “We were just peeking in.”
He raised one dark brow. “Climbing inside hardly constitutes
peeking
.”
Mom looked at us in horror.
“We need a minute,
Mom
,” I said for the third time. “We can explain.”
She was getting that There’s-No-Explanation-for-Trespassing kind of wild fury look in her eyes. The sort that usually left her sputtering before she found her steam and really let us have it.
Lia saw it too. “Mom,” she said, “can we go outside?”
“No need,” Manero said, chin in the air. “I shall leave you three to discuss
your
business. I’ll return in fifteen minutes to discuss
our
business.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I muttered. He paused but did not turn, then left the tent.
Mom crossed her arms and took a seat on a folding stool. “Start talking.”
Lia and I shared a look. My head and heart were swirling. It was better that Lia told her. I sat down on a stool by the desk, face in my hands, looking at my mother and sister but thinking how lucky I was to be alive, and of Marcello Forelli, the most amazing man on the planet—of all time even. The guy I’d left in the past.
I’m not talking about breaking up yesterday. I’m talking about the past-past—as in the
1300s
past. Lia was telling Mom about it, whispering as fast and as clearly as she could…how we’d put our hands on the prints in the Etruscan tomb—prints that seemed to be our own, they matched so closely—and how it had taken us back in time, to medieval Italy.
Mom’s eyes got bigger and bigger, her expression telling us that she thought we’d gone crazy. “Did you hit your head?” she asked, reaching for Lia’s blond hair, scanning her scalp for blood.
“No, Mom,” Lia said, lurching away in irritation. “Listen to me. I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe us! Look at my gown. At Gabi’s!” Scientific fact, that’s what she was bringing it around to. That was something Mom could get her head around.
I turned to Manero’s computer, staring at the clock and the date, trying to get my head around the facts too. About a half hour had gone by since we’d first put our hands on the prints. We were probably only gone about twenty to twenty-five minutes. But we’d experienced about twenty days in ancient Tuscany.
My heart skipped a beat. I was no math genius, but if my calculations were right, our ten minutes here meant we’d already been gone from Marcello’s time for ten days. Ten days. No wonder I was in agony. I missed him like I was experiencing ten days of pain in ten minutes. I’d left a piece of myself back with him. It was physical, leaving me all empty and achy inside.
I logged on to Manero’s laptop and typed “Siena history” into Google’s search window.
“Gabi—” Mom began, brows lowered.
“I’ll be fast, Mom. I just need to know something.” A quick stop at Wikipedia, and I knew two things: Siena would face the plague in five years. But Florence wouldn’t conquer her for another couple hundred years. Not that there weren’t serious battles before then…
To her credit, Mom seemed to be giving Lia’s story half a chance. But her eyes told me she thought it was like a fable that had to have some sort of real basis, a foundation that would make it all make sense. Like grainy Sasquatch film clips that really starred an escaped pet gorilla. Or a UFO sighting that boiled down to a NASA rocket test. She was getting all Science Maven-y on us, trying to put two and two together.
“Mom, there are two castles within two miles of this site. The one we pass every day, on our way in here, and the one over the hill, past the tombs.” I reached out and took her hands. “We’ve been in both. But they were whole—full-on homes for people. Lots of people. Lia could sketch them both for you. One was inhabited by a man who fought for Firenze; the other by a family who was loyal to Siena.”
I glanced to the tent doorway, its flap still and hanging, and rose. I lifted the edge of my gown and showed her my wound, now nothing but a white scar on my skin. “Look, Mom. Check out the length of it. How it looks old? Like I got it five years ago, right?”
She blinked rapidly, as if she was seeing things. Trying to make sense of it all.
I dropped my gown and gestured to the bloodstain, directly over my scar. “It’s bloody because I was bleeding like crazy, just a half hour ago. I got the wound in that castle,” I said, gesturing in the direction of the Paratore ruins, “when Lia and I were fighting for our lives. There’s something about the tomb, coming through time, that heals. It healed me.”
She bit her lip, still looking at the blood.
I shook my head, irritated at how long it was taking to convince her. “How else could I get that scar? Without you knowing about it?”
Her eyes met mine. “It makes no sense.”
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t. But look at the facts, Mom. Haven’t you and Dad always taught students to catalog the facts and then move to theory?” I had her there. I’d heard her say the exact same thing a hundred times.
Her eyes flitted between us and then down at her hands, back and forth, still trying to puzzle it through.
If only Dad were here…
He’d always been the more impulsive of the two. He followed his heart. Mom liked to consult her brain first, and there was no way that our story was going to be figured out logically. No way. Hadn’t scientists been trying to figure out the whole time/space continuum thing for centuries?
Mom looked up at us then, unblinking. “Show me,” she said lowly. “Let’s go to the tomb now.”
“In front of Manero?” I frowned.
“No,” Lia said, shaking her head. “We just got back.”
But I was nodding. “I need to go back.”
“For what…forever?” Lia spit at me. “There’s so much we don’t know, Gabi. What if you get sick again, going back?”
“I won’t get sick again. I was healed. Time has passed, both here and there.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. We ‘left’ about twenty-five minutes ago. But what’d we experience back in 1342? About twenty days, right? If we go—”
Mom held her hands up, silencing us both. “No one’s going anywhere,” she said. “I simply want you to show me exactly what happened. On site.”
“She thinks she’s in love with a dude named Marcello,” Lia said accusingly, her distrusting blue eyes on me. “She’ll do whatever she has to to get back.”
Mom looked at me. “Is that true? You think you’re in love with this Marcus person?”
“Marcello Forelli,” I corrected, each lilting syllable twisting my gut. “And, uh, yeah. I fell pretty hard for him.”
Mom’s eyes moved from my face to my clothes again, as if she was trying to remember that there was scientific evidence to support our story. Otherwise, she probably would have dismissed it as some wild dream…like we’d
both
hit our heads or something.
“That’s how she got hurt,” Lia said, pressing now, sensing she had the upper hand. “I mean, she got hurt in a battle and I had to stitch her up, but she’s in love with a guy who already has a girl. And then that chick poisoned Gabi!” She walked over to me, hands on her hips. “You really want to go back? Back to where I almost lost you?” She shook her head. “I can’t do it, Gabs. Not after Dad. I can’t deal with it. I’ll lose it, seriously lose it, if something happens to you.”
“Nothing is going to happen to anyone,” Mom said, stepping up beside us.
“Mom, just give me a chance. Let me show you the tomb. How it happened.” I eyed the computer screen. Another ten minutes. Another ten days, for Marcello, thirty now that I’d been gone. Was he giving up? Giving in to Lady Rossi and the pressure to follow through on their marriage agreement? Had he guessed that she might have been poisoning me?
Mom was still staring at me, at Lia, assessing. “Come on,” she said finally, lifting the back of the tent and bending.
She was going to sneak out. My mother never sneaked anywhere. She boldly went where she wished.
I stood up and went to her, looking back to Lia. She hesitated, frowning, and then with an exaggerated roll of her big blue eyes—so like Mom’s—followed us. We ducked under the edge and looked around. We could hear voices on the other side and up the hill by the tombs. Just as it looked like we could make a clean escape, a guy in a
Societa Archeologico
hat came around the corner.
Mom froze for a second and then took my arm. “Come on, Gabi,” she said, “we’ll take care of you.”
The man’s eyes moved to my bloodstained gown, and he hurried over to us.
“Ti posso aiutare?”
he asked.
Can I help?
“
Si,
I just need to get her to our car,” Mom responded in Italian.
Smart of her, I thought. The parking lot would get us halfway to the tomb.
The man took my arm as if he thought I’d faint at any point, and I accepted his help as if I just might. A couple of other guys were walking up at the far end of the tumuli, but they ignored us. “I can take care of her from here,” Mom said to the man.