A whispered comment at her mother’s funeral and Rosie Ashford’s life, as she knew it, fell apart. She was not her mother’s biological daughter. What was worse, there was no official documentation that she ever existed. At the point of total breakdown, Rosie was persuaded to seek a DNA match. Should one be found, Rosie would learn some measure of who she was and where she may have come from.

That she received confirmation of a match for a first cousin, who lived overseas, surprised her, as it did him. Intrigued he invited Rosie to visit. To do so, she would have to travel almost three thousand miles to Nova Scotia, on Canada’s eastern coast, in the depths of winter, to a place she had never heard of.

Within hours of her arrival Rosie was convinced she had lived there before, even to the point of considering that she may be living a past life. Moreover she was soon embroiled in an historically divided family, who still lived with the consequences of decisions made by generations, long gone, and who used Rosie’s presence for their own purposes, putting her existence in danger.