Introduction

Gerard Warner was not only a literary giant whose suspense novels sold in the millions, he was also a man devoted to his family, especially his wife of nearly 60 years. When he dies he leaves his Charleston estate to his grandson, Michael, an aspiring writer himself. Michael settles in to write his own first novel and discovers an unpublished manuscript his grandfather had written, something he'd kept hidden from everyone but clearly intended Michael to find. Michael begins to read an exciting tale about Nazi spies and sabotage, but something about this story is different from all of Gerard Warner's other books. It's actually a love story.

As Michael delves deeper into the story he discovers something that has the power to change not only his future but his past as well. Laced with suspense and intrigue, The Discovery is a richly woven novel that explores the incredible sacrifices that must be made to forge the love of a lifetime. Author Dan Walsh delivers yet another unique and heartfelt story that will stick with readers long after they turn the last page.

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Excerpt

I remember . . . I was supposed to be sad that day. Everyone was sad. It’s always sad when a legend dies. Our family was gathered in Charleston to read his will.

Gerard Warner’s novels sold in the millions. He’d won the Pulitzer Prize. Several of his books had become blockbuster movies. I remember reading interviews with some of the celebrities who’d starred in those movies. Talked as if they were friends with my grandfather.

I knew instantly they were lying.

They didn’t know him. None of them did. He wouldn’t have let them.

To his adoring fans, Gerard Warner remained an enigmatic, elusive figure his entire career. He wouldn’t even allow his picture on his own book covers. Every time a new novel

came out, TV producers and talk show hosts made their appeals—again—wanting to be the first to interview him. He only said yes to print interviews. Even then, no pictures. And absolutely no questions about his personal life allowed.

Still, Gerard Warner’s books flew off the shelves. They were that good.

I called him Gramps.

“You’re smiling, Michael.”

I looked over at my beautiful wife, who was holding tightly to my hand, her blonde hair lit up by the sun. “Can’t help it, Jenn. I love this place.” It’s hard not to love a slow walk

down Broad Street in Charleston, especially in October. Pick any street in the old downtown area. I loved them all. The cobblestones of Chalmers, the courtyards along Queens. The

iron gates and grand staircases on Church Street, the tilting townhomes on Tradd.

I loved the magnificent plantations beyond the city limits that had survived the Civil War. My grandfather had taken me on tours of every one. The exquisite gardens and ponds

of Magnolia Plantation. The stunning tunnel of live oaks leading up to Boone Hall. The rolling green lawns and gardens of Middleton Place resting quietly along the banks of

the Ashley River.

Charleston was my grandfather’s favorite place in the world. For the last decades of his life, he called it home, wrote some of his best work here. He made me love it too.

So many memories for me.

Memories with him.

“I don’t think anyone else in your family will be smiling,” Jenn said. “Your sister Marilyn certainly won’t. I forgot to tell you, she called when you were in the shower. Umm, can

you slow down a little?”

“Sorry.” I always did that, walked faster when I got excited.

Jenn said it took her three steps to match two of mine.

“She didn’t want to leave a message,” Jenn continued. “And she seemed kind of tense to me. Do you think she’s nervous about the will?”

“Maybe, but it’s not about the money.” We stopped at the corner of Church and Broad to let a carriage go by. The tour guide turned down Broad, drew his passengers’ attention to

the steeple of St. Michael’s up ahead. I looked up. A beautiful building. “Remember, my grandfather talked to each of us individually before he died.” We crossed the street. “Didn’t

want there to be any tension in the family about who wasgetting what. My dad and Aunt Fran will get half the estate. The four of us grandchildren get an equal slice of the second

half.”

“I do remember you telling me that. So what’s bothering her?”

“Marilyn’s tense because of this ancestry thing she’s obsessing over.”

“I thought you said she gave that up,” Jenn said.

“No, I said she needed to.” I exhaled some frustration. “She’s spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to solve some mystery involving my grandfather. I keep telling her to let it go. Every time she’d bring it up to Gramps, I could see how much it bothered him. But she’d just keep poking and prodding him.” I inhaled the aroma of fresh garlic bread as we walked past the open door of an Italian restaurant. “You smell that? Let’s come back here when we’re done.”

“I’d love that. So, what’s Marilyn after? What’s the big mystery?”

Jenn and I had only been married a year. We lived near Orlando, a seven-hour drive from here. She’d only gotten to spend time with my grandfather a handful of times. “She

thinks he was hiding something.”

“Hiding what?”

“I don’t know. That’s what she said.”

“I know he shunned the public eye,” Jenn said. “But a lot of famous people do.”

“She’s convinced it’s more than that.”

“He seemed really nice to me,” she said. “Every time I talked with him, he had the kindest eyes.”

“He was an amazing guy. I’m not talking about his books, but just being around him, doing ordinary things. I think he was the most honorable man I’ve ever known. Which is why

this thing Marilyn’s doing makes me so mad.”

“What’s she trying to do?”

“She says she’s just trying to put our family tree together. A bunch of her friends started doing this a few years ago, some kind of social thing. They each researched old family albums and letters, looked up things on the internet, then met once a month over coffee to share what they found. Everyone else dug up plenty of stuff, but apparently our family tree stops with my grandfather.”

“Really?”

“Now don’t you get started.”

“I’m not, but you’ve got to admit, that is kinda strange.”

“C’mon, Jenn.”

“What? I’m not implying anything. It’s just, I think it would be fascinating, looking into your family’s history. But really, Michael, most people would expect to hit a dead end a few

more branches back than the grandfather level.”

“Can we drop this?” I looked across the street, not at anything

in particular.

“You’re getting edgy.”

“I am not.” But I was.

Jenn suddenly stopped, jerked my arm a bit. She led me back a few steps, toward the large shop window of an art gallery.

“Oh, Michael, look at that.”

We just stood there. It was beautiful. A fireplace-sized painting of a low-country marsh at sunrise. Palm trees swayed to a slight breeze. A large mossy oak drifted over the water.

In the foreground, larger than life, a majestic blue heron surveyed the entire scene, his eyes fierce and penetrating. The whole thing as colorful and detailed as if Audubon had

painted it himself. I remembered that blue herons were my grandmother’s favorite birds. I looked down at the price. Eighteen hundred dollars.

“Maybe they have it in a smaller print size,” she said, looking up at me with those big brown eyes. She knew I couldn’t resist that look, made me want to give her half my kingdom.

“How much you think we’ll get from the will?” she asked. I hadn’t told her how huge my grandfather’s estate was, nor how dramatically I expected our lives would change in

an hour or two. “We’ll just have to wait and see,” I said, easing her away from the window. “But I have a feeling we may just stop in here on the way back to the hotel and wrap

that bad boy up.”

We resumed our pace down Broad. She squeezed my hand. She liked that answer.

At that point, I felt pretty sure our part of the estate might be enough to break free from my day job at the bank to take a stab at another passion I shared with my grandfather, besides

the city of Charleston.

I wanted to be a writer too.

The thought occurred to me just now to add the words “like him,” but that would be an absurdity. I could never write like him. Compared to him, my best efforts were like

the refrigerator drawings of a child. But Gramps never let me think that way about myself. He told me once, “You got it in you, son. I can see it. Something God gave you. So don’t get

hung up trying to be like me. Do what you can do. Find the road you want to take, see where it leads you.”

When we reached Meeting Street, we stopped. I spun us around to see the whole of Broad Street facing east toward the Old Exchange Building. “Now look at that, Jenn. You

realize people from George Washington’s time shopped in these same stores? Washington himself danced at a ball in that building at the end of the road.” I turned her to the right

and pointed at St. Michael’s church across the street. “He went to church right there in the spring of 1791.”

“That’s really something.” She spun us around to face the right direction. “How much farther to the law office?”

“Two blocks on the left. It’s in this gorgeous old three-story

house, built in 1788.”

“Two more blocks? We should’ve taken the car, Michael.”

“Jenn, it’s such a beautiful day.”

“And I’m in heels.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

**(Spoiler Alert – These Questions assume you’ve already read the book)**

1. What would you say are the significant themes in this novel?
2. Gerard Warner, Michael’s grandfather, felt he had to hide the story of how he and their grandmother met, not just from the public but even from his family. Now that you know why, what do you think of his reasons? Did you agree? Could you see another way he might have handled this?
3. Michael’s grandfather titled the unpublished manuscript Michael had found, “An Impossible Love.” Now that you know the real story, what do you think of his choice for a title?
4. Michael didn’t put the puzzle pieces together (that he was reading a memoir, not a novel) until almost the end. What do you think kept him from seeing it sooner? At what point did you figure out what was really going on?
5. Telling the truth vs lying comes up in a major way in this book. Do you think there is ever a time when lying is necessary, say to protect someone from danger or to keep someone from getting hurt?
6. If you were put in Ben’s shoes―considering the times and the situation he was in―how would you have handled it?
7. Think about the choices Clair’s parents were faced with when they realized the truth about Ben. Would you (could you) have done what they did?
8. Did you have a favorite scene in the book? How did you respond to it and what made it your favorite?
9. Who was your favorite character in the book and why?
10. Think for a moment how the novel ends. How do you think the rest of the family will react once Michael gives them copies of his grandfather’s book and tells them the real story behind it? How do you think his sister, Marilyn, will react?
11. The author, Dan Walsh, welcomes any questions or feedback. You can contact him at [email protected].

Weblinks

»	Check out the Publisher's book info
»	Visit author Dan Walsh's web site

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