Excerpt – Dear Missing Friend by Susan McGuirk
Synopsis
One Woman. Two Men. One Dream.
It’s 1845, and Catherine McGuirk has left Ireland and a shipboard proposal behind, determined to forge a new life in America. Amid the bustling height of the whaling era, she marries a dashing sailor who vows to give up life on the sea. But when he vanishes westward in pursuit of gold, she is forced to chart her own course as a governess in Manhattan society. Torn between her ambition, the vanished whaleman she married, and the now-wealthy suitor she refused, she must navigate love, loss, and the tides of a changing world.
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Praise
“It resonates with works like The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan and The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri in its examination of cultural identity and resilience. Urgent and timeless, the novel offers an unflinching look at the cost of forging a new life in a foreign land and a tribute to the women who defied societal constraints. Simply Un-put-downable.” –The Prairies Book Review
“I will not be forgetting this anytime soon. I hope there will be more people who would end up loving it like I did. Loved some lines so much I highlighted them, not for this review, but for myself to revisit in the future.” –Literary Titan Review
“This captured my heart from the beginning and tears are still streaming down my face since finishing. It was extraordinarily well written and captured my attention from sentence one.” –Entrada Publishing Review
Excerpt
Chapter One
1841–1845
Letter from Catherine, in Gaelic
Mullinclavin, Ireland
February 14, 1841
Dear Da,
As the dirt slid off my shovel onto your coffin, Uncle Bryan pressed a parcel into my hand. The cameo pendant of Erca, the first princess of Scotland, lay nestled in the brown paper. My heart stopped to see our family heirloom, handed down to me through generations of ancestor mothers.
When our family gathered the next day to witness your testament, we now four orphans briefy clasped hands. To my right, the firm grasp of Torlough, our redoubtable “Tor,” confirmed his new role as the family patriarch. To my left, Frank’s warm bear paw reminded me he was our heart. Young Johnny, only twelve years old, was straggling behind, as usual. You will never read this, yet I know you hear me.
Your loving daughter,
Cath
Letter from Da, in Gaelic
Mullinclavin, Ireland
February 12, 1841
My dearest children,
The tales of our ancestors are timeworn, but indulge me in one last recitation. One day, you will bequeath our traditions to your children.
Our ancient lineage may be as much myth as historical fact. Still, we believe we were descendants of Murtagh MacEirc, the High King of Ireland, in the sixth century. Our troubles began when
the English confiscated our land during the Nine Years’ War. That act hastened the Tudor Conquest of Ireland in 1605. The purloined parish still bears our name, Termonmaguirk, meaning McGuirk’s Sanctuary. It was there we became the “Keepers of the Bell,” a relic bequeathed to us from Colmcille, the patron saint of Ireland, along with Saint Patrick. The bell was sworn on to settle disputes and drank from to heal the sick. May it always protect you.
To escape the scourge of serfdom, you must flee our farm and the stifling lack of a future in Mullinclavin. My dying wish is for your small inheritances to provide you with a better life in America. I
ask that Johnny stay behind for a time with your uncle Bryan. As a schoolmaster, he will provide the only chance for him to finish his education. Always remember this vow: “In times of trial, remember the Duty and Honor of the Bell.”
Your loving,
Da
Letter from Catherine, in Gaelic
38 Mulberry Street
New York City
July 7, 1841
Dear Johnny,
This letter is from an Irish boarding house we heard about on the ship. The voyage was long, miserable, and nothing I wish to repeat or remember. We were surrounded by English people on board
who were not friendly. I thought I was brave and ready, but our circumstances already intimidated me.
The term “sea legs” became familiar. When the first foul weather strikes, you become helplessly sick to your stomach, where standing is impossible. The moment the misery becomes unendurable, the winds wane, and you can magically stand again. At that moment, your sea legs have arrived to see you through the rest of the voyage.
No amount of cleaning could remove the nasty stench in steerage. Sleeping next to strangers and lacking proper privacy was a continuing trial that took all my worldly resolve to rise above. The
ever-present vermin and monotonous, unsavory food did not help. The chill wind and damp cabin were my constant companions, as was an incessant hacking cough. At least one sympathetic acquaintance on board helped ease the burden. Having a friend to converse with made me forget where I was sometimes.
I am sorry to complain, as we were fortunate to depart of our own will. We are blessed to be young, healthy, and strong, with some money to get us started. I hope I have not discouraged you for
your turn.
I am sorry I did not cry when I said goodbye to you. As the Queen Victoria pulled away from the slip toward the infinite ocean, my brave facade melted. My yearning for the motherland I would never see again almost strangled me. Missing loved ones and places is new, but it feels indistinguishable from grief. I only hope that the missing return, even if only in our hearts.
Your loving sister,
Cath
Read the full first chapter here
About the Author
Susan McGuirk posts about historical fiction heroines on her blog “The Storied Sisters Society” on Bluesky, Substack, and on her website. Susan worked at Anthology Film Archives, a historical film museum, where she received its Film Preservation Award and serves on the Board of Advisors. She honed her writing skills at HBO, composing hundreds of in-house film reviews. After running a media mentoring program at City College of New York, Susan accepted the President’s Award. She lives with her husband in New York City.
