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Waters of Separation -- EPUB

  • To combat her past on Long Island, physician assistant Anna Haas must conquer the slavery she finds in present day Côte d'Ivoire.
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Release Date:
September 11, 2015
Cover Artist:
Carol Fiorillo

Product Description


Africa’s secrets resurrect the despair physician assistant Anna Haas buried in America. Her pregnancy and the discovery of boys bound by slavery in the cacao sector of the Côte d’Ivoire revive her childhood guilt. Her mother’s suicide claimed the lives of the two small sisters Anna had vowed to protect.

Her failure to save them was unforgiveable.

It will not happen with these boys.

Her interference prompts a corrupt government to threaten the thriving mission and the lives of Anna and her friends. Her action also threaten her marriage.

However, doing nothing will destroy her. 


Anna Haas’s hand dropped to her own stomach, and she shivered. Was she ready? She shelved her fear, and focused on enjoying a walk with Essi. "Everything's perfect. Come on. I'll walk with you a little." Anna stifled a yawn. "Then I'm catching a nap. This heat has turned my eyelids to lead." She tugged her blouse, damp with sweat and humidity, away from her. "Even though it's the afternoon, I'm putting on my nightgown."

They giggled and chatted until they reached the village crossroads. It veered off the piste Essi normally used, but today, instead of following the narrow path, Essi planned to meet with her village friends. Anna hugged her good-bye and leaned against a banana tree while Essi waddled toward the village proper.

Here the village cacao farms, matted with cassava plants and banana trees, melded with the forest. The cacao trees reminded her of the white birch at home, the bark gray and black, the boles small enough for her to encircle with her hands.

However, the cacao pods were the real oddities. The size of over-ripe acorn squash, colored green or a maroonish red, flecked with brown, they resembled rippled footballs clinging to the sides of trees. They didn't hang, like fruit back home, off branches, hidden in the leaves, but right on the trunks.

She wanted to linger, to savor the flawless beauty, cherish the culmination of the lifelong dream of exploring Africa that she and her father had shared.

Children squealed as her husband let them out of the school for recess. Piping voices sliced through the forest, out-shrieking the monkeys. Their voices like her sisters' had been.

Her sisters.

Lately, their memory dogged her. They had shared the dream of Africa, too -- or at least Camille had.

She pushed away the thoughts along with the strands of her hair clinging to the sweat on her face. Her hair, caught up in a ponytail, gave her a headache. Besides making her dizzy, the humidity must have added a pound to her hair. She wanted to shave her head.

With her eyes heavy with fatigue, she turned toward her home when her name rang out.

She turned, shaded her eyes against the mid-day glare.

"Madame Docteur! Aidez-nous."

She squinted down the trailhead. Ibraham? She craned her neck, her mouth opened in concentration as he ran toward her. He carried someone.


Blood like a tribal scar smeared Ibraham's face, stained his chest and darkened his shorts -- the blood already a copperish brown. Her hand flew to her throat, and she forgot to breathe. Only a little boy. Were both hurt? The Burkinabé teen moved too fast to be wounded. Surely all that blood didn't come from Kwame?


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