Out Of Control

Out Of Control
Janice Macdonald

Happy birthday. Meet your new mother. Suffice it to say, Daisy' s childhood had been less than idyllic. It hadn' t been easy growing up the daughter of the great Frank Truman–a respected and prolific painter who was not what he' d appeared. Even fifteen years after his death, Daisy is still trying to deal with her mixed feelings, not helped one bit by the arrival of a persistent biographer.Nicholas Wynne wants to write the definitive account of the artist' s life, not stir up old ghosts for Truman' s daughter. He' d certainly never intended to fall in love. So what' s he going to do with his newfound revelations about Daisy' s secret and traumatic past?

Perhaps he’d built up an image of Daisy

that no actual woman could live up to

The golden-haired child basking in the sunlight of her father’s love had grown into an ethereal goddess…who had an ex-husband and a fourteen-year-old daughter and kept goats. And didn’t return his phone calls. Nick mulled this over for a while, tried to come up with some plausible reasons she might not want to talk to him. He sneezed. Difficult to think while sneezing.

He had lined up some other interviews, which he would do over the next few days. All peripheral to the biography, though. Truman’s relationship with Daisy as it reflected in his art was the central theme of the work; Truman was dead, so no one else really mattered but Daisy.

Dear Reader,

I sometimes think that if, in order to become a parent, we had to apply for the job, the world’s population would shrink considerably. I was very young when I had my children and, looking back, the only thing I knew at the time was that I wanted to be a mother. Many years later, with two beautiful and much-loved adult children—and a granddaughter—I wouldn’t have changed anything. But I still wish I’d been more prepared for the awesome responsibilities ahead.

In Out of Control, Daisy and Nick both struggle with the question of what it takes to be a good parent. Nick loves his daughter but is painfully aware of his shortcomings. Daisy, abandoned by her mother and raised by a decidedly offbeat father, wants her own daughter to feel the emotional security she herself never experienced as a child.

These days as I find myself caring for my ninety-year-old mother, I’m reminded of how cyclical the life process is. I hold my mother’s hand as we journey out, much as she once held my hand and as I held the hands of my own children. I haven’t always been the perfect daughter (just ask my mum!), just as I’m not always the perfect mother (just ask my kids!), so perhaps it’s just as well I never had to apply for the roles. But despite the mistakes I’ve made, the things I wish I’d done differently, I’m immensely grateful that I was given the opportunity. A life filled with love, compassion and a liberal sprinkling of humor is an invaluable ingredient for making it through the rough times.

I hope you enjoy Out of Control. I really do like hearing from you and do my best to answer every letter or e-mail. You can reach me at www.janicemacdonald.com or at PMB 101, 136 E. 8th Street, Port Angeles, WA 98362.

All the best,

Janice

Out of Control

Janice Macdonald

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Janice Macdonald is an author and freelance writer who divides her time between San Diego and Port Angeles, Washington, where she lives in a cabin on the edge of the Olympic National Forest and watches deer graze when she should be writing! She recently discovered the joys of Bach and now listens to his music constantly.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

PROLOGUE

October 6, 2003

Ms. Daisy Fowler

Chaparral Hills

Laguna Beach, California,

U.S.A.

Dear Ms. Fowler:

I am writing to let you know that I have been contracted to write a biography of your late father, Mr. Frank Joseph Truman.

I first became interested in your father’s work after seeing a painting in his Innocence series in a London art gallery. The portrait of a young girl on a sunlit bluff was exquisite; I recall standing in the wet chill of a November evening but feeling almost transported. For a moment, I’d felt the ocean wind that tangled the girl’s hair, tasted the tang of salt on my own lips. My captivation was complete when I learned from the gallery owner that this was a painting of the artist’s only daughter.