Between Will and Surrender, an “Enter the Between” Novel

First book in the “Enter the Between” Visionary Fiction Series

Between Will and Surrender by Margaret DuarteIn the midst of plenty, she lives in want.

Between Will and Surrender

Silicon Valley resident Marjorie Veil’s sense of reality frays when she begins hearing a voice when no one is there. Afraid that she’s losing her mind, she goes on a soul-searching journey to remote Carmel Valley. But she doesn’t find the reprieve she desires. Instead, she encounters Morgan Van Dyke, whose romantic interest in her is a distraction she can ill afford. Then she meets an identical twin sister she didn’t know she had, another blow to her already fragile sense of self. And finally she befriends a mute and orphaned Native American child, who gives her his most valued possession, a mouse totem, thus introducing her to the power of selfless love.

Between Will and Surrender is a paranormal adventure of personal growth and transformation that takes readers on a visionary journey into the wilds of the Los Padres National Forest, home of the Esselen, one of the smallest Native American populations in California nearly exterminated as a result of Spanish Missions. Readers are introduced to the teachings of the Native American Medicine Wheel, which can be applied in their personal journeys toward self-discovery.

Like the fires that blaze through the Los Padres National Forest, the mysterious voice in Marjorie Veil’s head burns the frameworks that imprison her—her limiting beliefs, her old patterns of thought—transforming them into blackened snags, a perfect habitat for the seeds of awareness buried deep inside of her to burst into life.


Leave it to Cliff to insist that we take a romantic day trip to Carmel on Ash Wednesday. I could have said no, of course. I could have suggested that we turn the car around and do this some other day. It’s just that…well, it had been so long since he’d asked. And it wasn’t as if I would have been in church anyway. Five years ago, yes, I probably would have had ashes on my forehead by now, in the shape of a cross, a reminder of my earthy beginnings, of my dusty heart, of repentance—of death.