When he arrived I did not know what to expect from him . Slowly , he looked around and noticed me . The first thing I noticed were his eyes , unlike any I 've seen before . Nick Wale is handsome , rugged and a man completely away from his own generation . His size struck me more than anything - he 's working class - yet classically Roman . I was taken off guard as he smiled at my wife . Still , when we started the interview I was put at ease by his friendly and easy going nature . A ) Pretty good , Mac ! I guess it 's all down to good luck and blessings from God that we managed to finish it . I just follow the old adage - good luck brings forth more good luck and a little quicksand at times . A ) Well , I guess I use all the old carny tricks in the book . We make great use of Facebook and Twitter . I have a mailing list and of course the blog . I was recently telling Lori , my beautiful fiancee and co - author of " Rose " , about the importance of the blog - 1000 hits in two months is pleasing ! I know we can do better . A ) I consider it a beginning and I know we can do better . The way I see it is simple . There 's a 1000 hits now and perhaps 10 , 000 tomorrow and it 's all down to marketing and audience share . A ) I believe that it is not just a hit - I believe it is the hit of the decade . The book tells a dramatic true life story and tells it well . Lori is an excellent writer and I believe she has done some of her best work . This book isn 't just a book - it 's a movie and a series of books . A ) Yes , absolutely ! Andrew Murray emailed me directly and read the first rewrite and loved it . He gave us invaluable advice and then we took his words and ran with them . The man was a guiding star to Lori and I ! A ) I 'm a simple guy really - very easy going and devoted to my home life . I like to wake up slowly and get enough sleep . That 's one thing I loved about the process of writing " Rose " . It was one of those wonderful processes over a few months . I just worked hard and rested easy . Relaxing ? I never relax in the day - I work and I catch up with my fellow writers and political buddies . I have a lot of friends in the business and some I would even like to represent as an agent . Mac - I believe in doing as much as possible and I would become an agent in the time it takes to write my name . I have met some incredible authors who just don 't get the sales that they should . For example take Doug R Cobb - he is an excellent writer - yet he doesn 't get the sales he needs to give up the day job . I believe he could be the biggest thing since Steven King if given the chance . A ) Bit personal , eh ? Well it 's the same as everyone else 's - we don 't have any dinosaurs in the bath or anything . Lori and I like music and TV and we spend a lot of our time together . I believe in spending time with my family and nothing makes me happier . A ) She cross stitches and watches TV - she likes Mexican food and I think she has a new book in mind . It 's about a bored housewife running off to Greece and Turkey . I believe it 's a winner and it 's based on truth . Q ) Thank you for the heads up about her new work . Do you have any new projects on the go ? A ) I have some news articles I 'm currently working on and hope to sell to papers and I have two new books in mind . The first is a prequel to " Rose " and the second has the working title of " Poverty " . I will be previewing a few chapters soon on my blog . A ) Well , Mac - I guess I 'm not the same as other guys my age . I just see the world and look for the opportunities . Lori calls me a visionary at times . I believe it 's more down to the fact that I want to achieve . I like being me and that means that I want to be me for a long time . If I wasn 't writing or trying to write or be around writers , I wouldn 't be me . A ) Sure - " Rose " is the true story of my mother who suffered with depression . I guess the truth is that she went haywire for a time and things were hard until I met Lori . Mum and Lori were like oil and water to begin with and times were tough , but mum made the effort to fix herself and change her life . I am so proud of her for that - it 's a long and shocking tale - but it really does show the lows that depressives go to . Depression is a rampant disease , Mac , and it 's only by sharing experiences and making a positive change that we will fix it . There are lots of people out there suffering because of it . A ) Yes , sir , that 's one of my main goals and it will always be one of my main goals . I have been given a lot in this life and I would like to put back as much as I can . I believe that everyone should have opportunities and with this book I hope to give many , many people opportunities . A ) I want to start working with teenagers to get themselves into a profession and out of the jobcentre . I want to get people to write their stories and share their experiences . I would like as an agent to pick up books by writers who aren 't making enough money - and make them the money . I am not in this for myself - I 'm in this business to make it happen for everyone I meet . A ) Well , there 's a guy named Ed Powers who is one of my best friends . I really feel that he changes a lot of lives through his sermons and such . I have spent many hours talking to him and he just believes without question in things I do - that takes some guts because people say I 'm crazy . A ) Well , thank you ! I do realise that my age is against me in many ways . I guess people just don 't take guys my age seriously - they say " Hey , wait till you grow up a bit , boy . " A ) It 's with publishers right now and I 'm waiting to hear back . There hasn 't been a single rejection yet of the new manuscript and I think they 're going to love it as much as we do . I guess it 's all a waiting game now . We shook hands and with that it was over and he left . Nick Wale , a guy with drive and ambition , was gone and all I have to say is - good luck to him and thanks for the record . This is a guy to watch ! We will be seeing a lot more of him , I 'm sure ! Rose had been married to a man who beat her daily , both physically and psychologically . She became dependant on her abuser and when he dies , she has no way to cope . She falls into a deep depression fuelled by years of anger and estrangement . When Nick is a young boy of age seven , still reeling from the death of his father , he becomes subject to Rose 's anger at the world . At first he just accepts the abuse , but then he learns to cope with it . As he grows older , Rose insists he become her constant companion and surrogate husband , to the detriment of his own development . He wants to make his mother better , and at the same time he is fighting hard to survive the race - the race for his own identity and freedom . " The Rose Amongst the Thorns " is the true story of three people and their will to survive and ultimately thrive as a family unit . What will they do when they find themselves thrown together ? How will they manage ? I awoke to the sound of my father making breakfast , the normal daily occurrences happening all around me . My feet crept out from under the heavy blankets to find the floor - the cold hard floor . I had forgotten what I had heard the night before . There was not much to remember , some cries and sobs . That 's all . I wandered out of my parents ' large bedroom and stepped into the small , steep stairwell that led downstairs . My father was still busy with his morning routine , but my mother wasn 't heard . I crept down the stairs , one by one and finally reached the bottom of the mountain . Slowly , I opened the door leading to the kitchen . My father stood at the table , still placing table mats and cutlery . Humming a happy tune , probably something he had heard on a jazz record , he looked up at me . There was no smile , no storm or tempest . The look was cold and his finger pointed towards the cereal he now poured into a bowl . I looked for my mother , she sat cowered in a corner chair . Her face , I saw it in its morning glory . The black and blue bruises mingled with her pale English rose complexion . I did not ask her what happened , for I knew . My father might have forgotten but she hadn 't . She wore the scars and those same scars turned her into the person she became later on . The village closest to our house could have been any small English town . Everyone had secrets . The drug - addicted chemist who neglected his duty , the bank manager who slowly fiddled the books to push money into his own coffers , the pious woman on the church board who was having an affair with two of her neighbour 's husbands . The village kept its secrets close to its hard boiled breast . I grew up learning that a smile was not necessarily kind and a cry of anger did not mean that a wrong had been committed . I knew that something was amiss everytime I saw an unguarded moment from the citizens . Eyes looked cold and lonely . Faces long and drawn . I could see the terror held by so many at the thought that their own problems might become the next ' red hot ' talking point . The age of miracles and the wonders of technology had not yet made itself known to the place I grew up and called home . Dances were still popular and school was still indebted to the class system . The Labour government of 1997 had not yet swept to power . I grew up in a hive of Conservatism , and I knew of nothing else . My father was staunchly Conservative , and my mother was told how to vote . She did , however , assert herself at times ; she would take pity on the Liberals . My father , always angry at this , would chide about the poor performance of the party at every election . It was not common to see a debate in our house . As in most English households of that era , my father 's word was law . The village was beautiful , outsiders found it to be a haven from the busy cities and towns littering the country . History once had been made in the area , wars won and crowns lost . Nobility still survived in the town and the Great Hall lay monument to its impressive past . Even the secrets could not take away from the grandeur of the place . The car pulled into the car park , nestled close to the war memorial in the main square . I stared out of the window and saw its huge mass as it lay a dark shadow over the cobblestones . My mother stepped out of the vehicle to do her daily shopping . I can only imagine the embarrassment she must have felt , her face bruised and bloated from her long night . She gazed at me and tried to smile . I smiled back as best I could and stepped out of the car and stood beside her . My hand reached up for the comfort of her own . There was nothing said , just a general knowledge that my mother would be the next discussion point at coffee mornings . My father , generally known as a great man , would not lose any of his stature . The villagers would blame my mother and she would be seen as a failed wife and mother . Her punishment already delivered and the embarrassment of carrying the scars would be considered an apt display of a husband 's right to beat his wife . Nobody would stand up for her , she knew that . The village would stare , point and scold her for his actions . We walked into the post office and I could feel the eyes of the town glaring at us . I could hear the whispers . I could hear them muttering to themselves and I am sure my mother could , too . This had not been the first beating , and would not be the last . It was just another morning of humiliation in our fair village . We managed to do our shopping in relative peace and headed home . The world was still turning . I looked up at my mother , her bruises still blue and ugly . The car pulled into a drive , not ours . This was the home of my mother 's adopted mother , Mrs Agatha . Her bungalow was out of town and she lived the rural way she had always known . There were no mod cons here , just a small bungalow and the land owner 's home across from her abode . The car stopped outside her house and she stepped out . I followed , the gravel under my feet crunching as I followed her into the dingy property . The décor was a mix of the old world and the older world . Clean , but smelling strongly of cheap cigarettes - I close my eyes now and still smell it . There she sat , in her small kitchen , her cup in her hand and cigarette in the ashtray balancing on her leg . My parents had lived in the bungalow across from her once . My mother had met Mrs Agatha a long time ago , and they had become fast friends . She smiled as she saw my mother walk into the room . " Nicholas had a nightmare and came in wanting a cuddle . I let him get into bed with us . He was terribly shaken up , " my mother 's voice broke with emotion . I had indeed had a nightmare . A ten - foot spider , or maybe Godzilla , had been chasing me . All I remember is that I was petrified and wanted to curl up with her and feel safe . Apparently , I had done something wrong . " I 've never seen him so angry , Agatha . I don 't know who he is anymore , " she was crying now . " He always wanted a child . I don 't know why he hates Nicholas so . " " I 've known Thomas a long time , Rose . I always thought he was incredibly selfish , " Mrs Agatha said , her voice saddened by my mother 's story . " He acts the big man , but he 's very insecure , I think . " " I know he is , Agatha , " my mother said , her voice stronger now . " I do everything I can to please him , but nothing is enough . He doesn 't even think Nicholas is his . " I collected the biscuits and brought them back into the lounge , sitting myself on the floor next to my mother . I wanted to comfort her . I wanted to be someone different - someone my father would love and approve of . I wanted to disappear . That night my mother was late picking up from work the man I had been encouraged to call Daddy . She had been caught behind a slow moving tractor . Edgy and tense , she tried to pass . No opportunity presented itself . I sat in the back . We watched as he walked out of work , still laughing from a joke one of his friends had told him . He drove steadily back home . I didn 't utter a word . Finally , we pulled into our familiar driveway . The sky darkened as our car headed toward the house . It looked cold and uninviting , but I knew that within an hour my mother would have it warm . There would be a fire burning in the lounge fireplace and warm food would be presented to my father . The food would have to be made within half an hour of his return . That was his mandate . If she ever passed that mark then he wouldn 't eat it . If he didn 't eat , then there would be a beating . Daddy had eaten dinner and now sat watching television . I sat still on the sofa reading a book . My mother sat silently , waiting for the next order from my father . My mother did not say anything . She jumped and ran off to get him the sandwich . My father looked at me and smiled . I was too young to know how sadistic he was , but I knew I had to fear him and not to underestimate him . My mother returned with the bacon sandwich . She walked slowly towards my father who sat still . Suddenly , he pointed towards the table on the other side of his chair . My mother moved in front of him and he tripped her up , she fell and the sandwich fell onto the floor . My father stood up and kicked the plate away . My mother tried to push herself up , but had winded herself . I watched my poor mother try to pick herself up . My father watched as she finally managed to get on her feet . I wanted to help , but fear overtook my body . I sat still and ended up staring at the ground . I hated him . My father was in pain . We all knew that he had problems with his back . Years of hard labour had taken their toll on his body , although he was still a fine figure of a man . He was ageing quickly , however . Nobody would have thought that his ailments would be caused by a disease . My mother wanted him to go and see a doctor . He did not want to , he made that clear . His answer was to take handful after handful of paracetamol to control the pain . It worked , at first . Motor Neurone Disease is a very under - publicised condition . My father didn 't know he had it . Then when he was finally diagnosed he refuted it , but eventually , he had no choice but to give into it . The anger he felt was displayed with every punch , kick or snarly remark . I felt lost , abused and lonely . My own father denied that I was his . I was , I knew that I was his child . Ever since one of his friends had jokingly told him that I could be someone else 's , my father had taken it to heart that I wasn 't . My mother took several beatings over his insecurity . My mother would cry , and try to defend herself . She knew that the end result would always be the same . The beating would be systematic . I felt so sorry for her . I wished nightly I could do more for her . The secret of his illness did not take long to infect the village . Everyone knew that he was dying . I knew it , before I was meant to know . One old woman came up to me in the middle of the village store . " I hear your father is dying , " she said , hoping for some juicy gossip or perhaps details of his ailment . I can see her face now , she was wrinkled . So wrinkled , old and broken down . I had nothing to say , what could I say ? The only thing I knew about death was that I knew Elvis was dead , and something about Princess Diana that I had heard on the TV . I was not told what death was . We arrived home and I helped to carry the groceries inside . The house was warm and ready for a night in the cold country air . We entered the house and my father sat there in front of the fire . By this time , he was in a wheelchair . The vibes were angry . My mother tried to ignore the atmosphere . I moved too close and he lunged at me with his pick - up stick . I managed to elude its blow . My mother was having a hard time coping , but she managed . There was not one person in the village , the almighty village , that offered to help her . My father fell over a couple of times as his strength continued to fail , and she could not lift him . She struggled , and finally managed to get him up and onto the toilet seat . By this time , his legs were gone . The disease was taking its hardest toll . He lashed out at her and many blows found their way to her body . Yet , even with all the abuse he had thrown at her she never once stopped caring for him , looking after him . I was never once neglected , I was always fed and loved . Something inside of her died though , she became tough and uncaring . The world had shown her that she was on her own . This woman was on twenty - four hour call to look after my father . He stabilized and came home for a while . Nurses and doctors came every day to see how he was doing . Never once did any of them consider the way my mother felt . She was stuck with the stress of a young boy and an ill husband . The worst times were at night . We could hear him downstairs , his breathing laboured and heavy . She would stay awake all night listening to him breathing , hoping that he would make the night . Sometimes she would try to read me a bedtime story , but he would scream up the stairs . She phoned her friend , a local doctor , who intervened . The problem was solved . I remained at home with my mother , and my father went back to the hospice . Soon thereafter , I had just come back from a school trip . Surprisingly , my mother did not come to collect me from school as she normally did . She sent one of her few friends from the village . I had no idea what I was doing here . This lady was kind and comforting , but I longed to see my mother again . I wanted her to tell me that things would be alright . I felt panic rising in my gut . Hours passed , darkness fell , and I wondered what was going on . No one explained . I thanked the lady for giving me a home for a few hours . Wayne looked down and smiled at me . There was something odd about how he looked at me , too . Something was wrong . I didn 't know it then , but my life would be changed forever . " Lori , this is Dr . Tanner again . It 's urgent that I speak with you . Please call me as soon as you receive this message ! " At the same time I was listening to the messages , I had opened my email . There was an email marked urgent , also from Dr . Tanner , giving me both her office number and cell number and asking me to contact her immediately . Whenever the doctor gives you her personal cell number , you know it 's not good . During the previous year , I started noticing I was becoming somewhat unstable on my feet . I was twisting my ankles frequently and stumbling up and down stairs . I put it down to fatigue and just general klutziness , although I 'd never been that way before . In September , I was in the yard after having taken care of the chickens and on my way back to the house I fell . Hard . I had my hands full with some flower pots and I stumbled and went down like a ton of bricks . At this time , I was also very heavy - 290 pounds or so - and that 's a lot of dead weight to have strike the ground . I literally landed on my face as the flower pots went flying yards away . I had gravel rash on my face and my knees and elbows were banged up . I shook it off and came into the house to sit down and ice my twisted ankle . I put it down to the general klutziness I had been experiencing more and more frequently . A few days later , I developed a headache . I shrugged it off as a delayed reaction to the fall and I took some Tylenol . After a week or so of no relief , I made a doctor 's appointment . I had no insurance and not a lot of money coming in , so this was a big decision . My doctor suggested I had incurred whiplash from the fall and recommended a chiropractor . Again , not being covered by insurance , chiropractic visits would need to come out of my ever - shrinking bank account . I saw the chiropractor twice and had no results ; in fact , my headaches were getting worse . Surely , it must have been trauma from that fall and if I was careful , it would resolve on its own . My doctor had given me a prescription for Vicodin which I was taking regularly with limited relief . Around the same time , I received an email from an astute , young Englishman who wanted to know more about the American healthcare system . I had been commenting on a political page on the internet and something I said piqued his interest . I felt quite passionately about the subject at the time - I had suffered this persistent headache for several weeks by this time , but due to my financial circumstances , I was resisting returning to the doctor . We had several email exchanges and there was something about this guy that fascinated me . He was highly intelligent and well spoken , and he had this hunger for knowledge and general curiosity which I really appreciated . His emails frequently started , " Tell me more about … . " and he eagerly absorbed the information I gave him and formulated more hypotheses and potential political solutions . Not only was he intelligent and friendly , he was incredibly respectful and polite . I liked him . I really liked him . When I discovered early on he was only twenty - two years old , I kept my feelings at arm 's length and intended to take him under my wing as an adopted younger brother . As I was to discover , my growing feelings were not to be kept at bay , however . My headaches continued and were becoming more than just annoying . I was popping Vicodin like M & Ms especially at night to help me sleep and dull the pounding . Over several weeks , I noticed I had to stop cross stitching , my favorite hobby , because my eyes were becoming very fatigued and I couldn 't see well , even with the help of reading glasses . I put it down to the pain of the headaches causing discomfort in my eyes . What I didn 't realize is my vision was beginning to fail . As October became November , I was chatting daily to Nick online . It became a habit and I began to anticipate seeing him sign into chat . When I saw " Nick is online " pop up on my screen and heard the ding of the notification , I always smiled and got that giddy butterfly tummy feeling . I felt like a silly high school girl again . I realized my feelings for him were deepening , but I continued to view him as a young man to whom I could impart my wisdom ( such as it is ) and guide on the path of life . I was still married , afterall , despite feeling it was in name only . We continued to talk politics and public policy and he educated me on British politics , of which I was completely ignorant . He slowly gave me some details about his life . He portrayed himself as a happy - go - lucky chap without a real care in the world . November passed relatively uneventfully , except the daily headaches were starting to take a toll on my sanity and my vision continued to decline . My Vicodin use was approaching Dr . House - like levels . I looked so forward to my daily conversations with Nick . They became the bright spot in my day , and I complained to him about how badly I was feeling and my frustration as to why this damn headache wasn 't going away . " Lori , this has been going on for too long . Why don 't you go back to the doctor ? I think something might really be wrong . " I could feel his concern coming through the chat window . " I 'm sure it 's nothing , Nick , " I said , sweeping my own concern under the carpet in my denial of what I really thought was going on . " It has to go away sooner or later . Anyway , you know this isn 't England . We don 't have free NHS like you lucky buggers over there . " " See ? Why don 't you look into it ? " he prodded . " I hate hearing you feeling so down . It 's no fun being ill . Besides , you haven 't been yourself . " Even in a few short weeks of chatting , he could see a marked difference in me . My most disappointing days were when I was in too much pain or my vision was too bad to actually sit at the computer . I retired to bed with a cloth over my eyes and my Vicodin bottle … . and missed him . Unlike Gene , he seemed to really care . The beginning of December came and I was still in daily , increasing pain , my vision was getting worse , and my balance was being affected . I realized it when I was walking from the computer room into the kitchen , a journey of about seventy - five feet , and I got so dizzy I walked into the wall . I thought it was because I hadn 't eaten much - afterall , I was going into the kitchen because I was hungry ! The dizziness waned that day , but continued to worsen in duration and severity over the next few weeks . About two weeks before Christmas I woke up from sleep and felt absolutely dreadful . The moment I moved from a supine position , I felt instantly and overwhelmingly nauseous . I barely made it to the toilet before wretching . Of course , the action of vomiting felt like it split my head wide open . " Great , I have the flu on top of all this , " I thought . As much as I wanted to deny it , a niggling reality would not be ignored . " I want a divorce ! I want a divorce ! " he had screamed at me the night before . Things had been getting bad between us for a few years and I had let things slide the last few months due to not feeling well . The house was a mess , the laundry piling up , I didn 't cook like I used to . Sex had been out of the question . He couldn 't grasp I wasn 't just being lazy - I really felt seriously ill . He couldn 't , or wouldn 't , hear it . There was no quality communication between us anymore . Perhaps there really never had been . I vomited multiple times a day for several days , each time feeling like an axe was splitting my head open , trying to eat soup and saltines and make it all go away . After a week , I knew that I had to go back to the doctor . I made an appointment for the next day , still insistent I had the flu and just needed an anti - viral and of course , more Vicodin . I couldn 't walk on my own from the car to the doctor 's office . Remember how you felt as a kid after spinning around and trying to walk ? Add the worst migraine you can imagine and that was close to how it felt . Gene , whom I had requested drive me , helped me into the office . Ah , yes , an MRI . I knew an MRI was in the cards and I had no idea how I would afford it . The coffers were approaching empty . We were already rationing food and eating our own chickens ' eggs as a staple . How do I get an MRI ? I came home and contacted a radiology center in a city about an hour away . " Hi , " I said casually . " I suspect I may have a brain tumor and I need an MRI but I have no insurance . What is your cash payment rate for a scan ? " A hardship grant ! One thing I can do is write a good letter , so I sat down with my aching head , my poor vision , my puking guts , and my now weakening right hand and typed up a letter detailing the history of my symptoms and our financial situation . I pleaded for help . I faxed it off and waited . " That 's good , isn 't it ? " he said . " But , I guess that means she thinks you have a problem ? " His concern and fear came through , even in a chat window . " I sent a letter to the radiology place . They might be able to get me a reduced price on the scan , " I explained . " Otherwise , it will be a fortune . " " I know . I wish you could , too , " I said . I wished I were in England for more than just an MRI . " I 'm sure they 'll come up with something . " " Anyway , I know it 's probably nothing serious , " I tried to reassure both of us . " I still wonder if I just knocked something out of whack with that fall a few months ago . " I knew that was bullshit . I wanted to reassure him that I would be fine , that it would be nothing and I 'd be right as rain soon . I don 't think I was too convincing , however . I felt his ( ( ( ( hugs ) ) ) ) through the chat window as if he was really there . I missed him . I wanted him there taking care of me since Gene was doing the bare minimum and grudgingly at that . I wanted Nick 's love . About two hours later , I received a phone call from the director of the radiology center . My hardship request had been approved at 100 % coverage . No payment required . Free ! ! She booked me in for an appointment the next morning . That morning , I woke up , did my now requisite wretching , and asked Gene to help me dress as I was so off balance I couldn 't even put on my jeans . He helped me and perhaps was now just realizing how bad off I really was . He had to put on and tie my shoes also as I couldn 't bend over because of the pain . I gathered my purse and a puke bag for the car - just in case . The hour drive down winding mountain roads , in a vehicle with hard suspension , just about did me in . I vomited several times before reaching the radiology center and was so wobbly when I arrived , I needed to take the elevator to the second floor . I was holding onto Gene for dear life as I couldn 't even stand on my own . The technician came to take me back for the MRI and fortunately he was a big guy as he needed to help me down the corridor and onto the table . As he helped me sit on the edge of the platform , I pitched forward because I was so dizzy . Thankfully , his 6 ' 2 ″ , very muscular frame kept me from ending up on the floor . I 'm not sure I could have gotten up if I had fallen over . As sick as I was , I was feeling very positive . I knew this would show the problem and everything would be OK . The MRI lasted thirty or forty minutes as I lay there , trying not to move . I knew the importance of clear pictures and I was determined , despite my dizziness and overwhelming nausea , to have a clear scan . It was another hour of the same winding , mountain roads on the way home , and while Gene was showing some compassion at this point and driving as gently as he could , I was still vomiting every ten minutes or so . I believe he really started to understand the gravity of my situation at this point . He became the Gene I used to know - loving and caring and concerned . It was a welcome change from the last few years of derision and belittlement I had felt from him , but I knew my heart was already elsewhere . It was too late .