Nancy J. Nelson’s Cloud Hands: The Disclosure Files – Book One presents a scenario where a quiet summer position becomes a gateway into concealed scientific, political, and interstellar developments. The book follows the subtle beginnings of a much larger confrontation over truth, control, and possibility.
Vicki Heywood enters a caregiving role that promises rest after a difficult period. However, unexpected findings gradually unravel the notion of a peaceful summer. She begins noticing connections between hidden technologies, unacknowledged alien contact, and medical breakthroughs withheld from the public. These discoveries lead back to the Partnership, a far-reaching corporate entity with the means and motivation to control crucial knowledge. As Vicki and the teens piece together what they’ve encountered, the situation shifts from unusual to dangerous, forcing them to confront forces operating well beyond public oversight. Their shared experiences highlight themes of resilience, emerging awareness, and the fragile but essential trust that forms during moments of uncertainty. Nelson’s story suggests that transformation—personal and collective—often begins quietly before reshaping everything around it.
Excerpt
Prologue
I used to think this story was about me. After all, isn’t everyone the
star of their own life? It was only later that I realized we are all just
bit players in some ever-repeating, cosmic pattern—a fractal pattern
made up of love, hardship, desperation, joy, sorrow, and hope.
Let’s never forget about hope.
—Victoria Heywood
Excerpt from address to the UN
There was a little cluster of forget-me-nots arranged in a vase on the table in front of Vicki. They had been Beth's favorite flowers. Small and vibrant, so cute they made you smile. Just like Beth herself.
The waitress put a cup of coffee and a pastry before her, and the same in front of the man seated across the table. Kurt Martinsson—she had called him Professor Martinsson when he taught her senior business seminar a decade earlier—added some sugar to his cup before he took a sip. Well-built, dark hair with a touch of gray at his temples. He had aged well. His bespoke sports jacket, manicured nails, and expensive haircut suggested he was also doing well.
“It was kind of you to look me up, Professor Martinsson, especially after all this time. To be honest, I haven’t been getting out much.” She hadn’t been getting out at all. What was the point? Their parents had died in a car accident several years back, and now Beth was gone too. Per her request, there had been a closed casket; the chemo had ravaged her body and taken all her hair. There was no amount of makeup, no wig good enough, that could have fixed that.
“I heard about your sister, Vicki; I’m so sorry. I understand you left your position at the Department of State to look after her.”
Beth had argued against that. “I’m young and strong; I’ll be able to beat this—there’s no reason for you to leave the job you worked so hard to get. Mom and Dad were so proud that you became a diplomat—they wouldn’t have wanted you to give that up.” She had been wrong about being able to beat the cancer, but right that their parents had been proud. They would have been just as proud to see their youngest open up her own flower shop in a prime location in downtown Los Angeles.
“I took a year’s leave of absence when it became clear my sister’s illness was terminal. I have another four months before I either return to work or submit my official resignation.”
“So, you haven’t decided what you'll do?” Professor Martinsson cocked his head to one side and looked at her. He had finished his croissant. She hadn’t even started on hers.
“No, I haven’t. Every time I start thinking about it...” She looked down at her coffee cup. It was too hard to think. Too hard to think about the future or anything else. She had officially shut down Beth’s flower shop the week after her sister died, although it hadn’t been in operation for a couple of months before that. At Beth’s urging, her two part-time employees had both found other jobs, and the shop sat dark and shuttered. She supposed she should do something—make arrangements to sell the building or rent it out —but she just didn’t have the bandwidth.
“I have an idea that might interest you. I need to do a lot of traveling over the next few months. My two children are more than old enough to stay home by themselves—Brad is sixteen and Jessica is twenty-two—especially since there’s household staff. But I’d feel better if someone was around to keep tabs on them specifically.”
He paused, then casually asked, “You do still have a Top-Secret Clearance, don’t you?”
Vicki looked up from her coffee and stared.
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