Matt entered the room and hurried over to Anna. He embraced them both in the circle of his arms. “Matt, meet your beautiful baby, chosen of God to be your son.” Large tears pooled in his eyes as he gingerly took the tiny infant into his arms and kissed the baby’s brow. “He’s so perfect, Anna, so incredibly perfect.”
They walked over to Lorena, who now sat peacefully watching the exchange between them. “Lorena, we’d like to call him Jesse if that’s okay with you. The name means gift.”
Lorena smiled through a curtain of tears and nodded readily. “Yes, I like that. I like that a lot.”
Matt looked up to see Lana and Tom wistfully looking on. Intuitively, he knew what the Spirit wanted him to do. He walked around the bed to where they stood and carefully transferred the baby into Lana’s waiting arms. “It’s time Jesse meets his grandma and grandpa.” Anna nodded in agreement and mouthed, “You’re the best.”
Lorena caught the exchange. “I’ve made a wise decision today, haven’t I?”
Matt leaned in and gave Lorena the biggest hug and whispered a few words. Lorena smiled and hugged him again.
Anna moved closer, placing her arm around Matt. He drew her to his side as she looked down at Lorena and reassured her, “Although we’ll legally adopt Jesse and love him as our treasured son, you’ll always be his birth mother. When you’re ready to let him know, we’ll stand beside you. We don’t want this to be a big secret. We’ll all join in raising him in an environment with so much love he’ll feel special and chosen rather than adopted. He’ll know, Lorena, that you gave the greatest gift of all. You gave him life, and you should be very proud of yourself.”
Lorena’s eyes lit up and a tired smile spread across her face.
Anna just had to know. “Hey, what did you say to Lorena when you hugged her at the hospital?”
Matt laughed. “That’ll cost you a kiss, Mrs. Carmichael.”
“But that’s too easy,” she giggled, planting a smooch right on his lips.
He grabbed her close and held on tight encouraging two, three, four and a whole lot more. Lying in the crook of his arm an hour later, she finally got her answer.
““I told Lorena I would never again risk losing you but that I secretly wanted another child. I thanked her for the incredible gift she gave me in that little boy, and how thrilled I am to be his daddy.”
Anna snuggled close and threw an arm around his chest in a bear hug.
“I find it so fascinating how God works. What you and Lorena felt was your most devastating failure, he turned into good—a beautiful gift of life. All because you both chose to do it his way. Could you imagine life without little Melody and now, baby Jesse?”
Anna shook her head. “Matt, I’ve thought about that many times. Melody brings me so much joy, and my heart bursts with love for Jesse. What I would’ve missed—”
Matt rolled over and held his face just above Anna’s.
“And what I would have missed.” Matt planted a kiss on Anna’s brow. “Sweet Melody for one.” He planted another kiss on her left cheek. “And her stubborn but beautiful mama.” He dropped a kiss on the other cheek. “Who would’ve kept dodging me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Had that little girl not brought me to her doorstep over and over again.” A rain of kisses found their way to her lips.
Anna laughed up at him. “Ahhh, Doctor Carmichael, you truly are too good to be true. How did I ever get so blessed?”
Matt rolled back beside her and lifted her hand to his lips.
“I feel the same about you, my dear lady. God is so good.”
“Yes, Matt, he truly is.”
Their words of faith ascended into the heavens, and a gift from the invisible realm descended and perfumed the room with a surreal presence of peace.
“Do you feel that?” Matt whispered.
Anna nodded, unable to speak, and squeezed his hand.
Blossom Turner is a freelance writer published in Chicken Soup and Kernels of Hope anthologies, former newspaper columnist on health and fitness, and an avid blogger. She lives in British Columbia, Canada, with her husband, David, of thirty-six years. A former business woman, personal trainer, and mother of two grown children she is now pursuing her lifelong dream of writing full-time.
A hopeless romantic at heart, she believes all story should give the reader significant entertainment value. However, her writing embodies the struggles of real life. She infuses the reality of suffering with the hope of Christ to give a healthy dose of relatable encouragement to her reader. Her desire is to leave the reader with a yearning to live for Christ on a deeper level, or at the very least, create a hunger to seek for more.
She is an avid blogger who has contributed to the Mount Hermon Blog, Christian Devotions blog, and writes a weekly devotional blog on the names of God. Read more at blossomturner.com.
Her authenticity comes from the crucible of suffering. Through understanding the restorative power of God’s forgiveness when humanity fails, she could write Anna’s Secret in a way that grips the reader on a profound level. A strong thread of hope is woven through this compelling novel where failure, love and romance collide.
Watch for Blossom’s next novel, Katherine’s Arrangement, a historical romance about an arranged marriage, set in the Shenandoah Valley—post-Civil War. The prologue and first chapter follow.
KATHERINE’S ARRANGEMENT
Shenandoah Brides Series Book One
Prologue
Civil War—October 1864, Rockingham County, Shenandoah Valley
“Katherine. They’re coming.” Pa swung his rifle over his shoulder and grimaced, the gun slipped to the floor. With jerky movements, he retrieved the weapon.
“Pa, your shoulder.”
Go, girl, and do exactly as we planned.”
Through the window, the smoke from the neighbor’s farm caught Katie’s eye—a cloud of ominous black splashed across the distant horizon. She glanced back. Her heart leapt into her throat as he fumbled with his rifle. She froze.
“Katherine!” Pa shouted. “Get moving. I’ll be on the porch.”
His shout broke her inaction, and she shot forward. She stumbled on the hem of her dress as she ran toward the kitchen. “Ma, we gotta go.”
Ma stuffed a pillow case with food. A loaf of bread fell through her trembling hands and tumbled to the floor. Katie’s sisters huddled close with wide eyes and tears streaming down their faces.
“Ma, come on.” Katie picked up three-year old Gracie, put an arm around her ma’s shoulders and steered them toward the door. Her other three sisters followed close behind.
Gracie squirmed, fighting to get down.
“Beckie. I need Beckie.” Gracie howled.
“There’s no time,” Ma said.
Katie thrust Gracie into her ma’s arms. “She carts that doll around constantly. If I don’t find it, she’ll keep screaming and that could be dangerous.”
Katie placed her hands on both sides of Gracie’s small round face and leaned in. “I’ll get your doll if you promise to obey Ma and do everything she says. Understand?”
Gracie whimpered. Her thumb went into her mouth.
“Ma, take the girls, I’ll find the doll.”
Katie raced from room to room. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard against fear. Where is that doll? God if you’re up there, please …
No sooner had she voiced that prayer than she spotted the arm of the doll poking out from underneath her sister’s small bed. She swooped it up.
The smoke in the distance had increased and billowed into a thick black cloud. Katie picked up her skirt and ran. The Yankees were closing in.
She headed for the hedge that lined a small section of the dusty drive. The boxwoods, her mother’s priced token of her childhood in Richmond, would serve them well today. A thick blackberry bramble sprawled directly behi
nd preventing any rider from coming up from the rear.
Her Ma and sisters huddled in their makeshift shelter in the ground. Five sets of frightened eyes looked up at Katie as she approached.
She tossed the doll to Gracie and nodded to her ma. “I’m not leaving Pa alone,” she said, as she kneeled down and grasped the wood cover beside her.
“What about you?” fourteen-year-old Amelia cried out, her dark eyes saucer wide and brimming with tears.
“I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
“But, Ma … stop her.” Amelia protested.
Ma looked away. Her silence spoke volumes.
The leaf and twig covered board wobbled in Katie’s hands as she pulled the cover into place. A quick glance back assured their hideaway looked like the surrounding area and the pipe buried for an air supply was carefully hidden in the brambles.
She moved further down the hedge away from the hiding spot and settled into the perfect ambush site. Laying low with her Springfield rifle held in one shaky hand, she nestled the ammunition close to her side. She felt for a small six-shot revolver pocketed in her dress, the one she’d removed from a dead Yankee earlier that year. The cold from the metal bit into her fingers as she pulled the gun free, but the steel was not as cold as her heart. Those Yankees had killed her two brothers. A surge of hatred flared.
Her heart pounded so loud she feared it was audible. With a deep breath slowly in and out, she worked to calm the thumping. The revolver lay loaded and ready as a backup. Katie fit the rifle onto her shoulder and shifted to find comfort on the uneven ground.
Her teeth clenched tight as her mind darted in and out of the past few years. The fear of mean-spirited soldiers and deserters roaming the valley had kept her tense and alert. She stayed close to home and kept her gun at her side when tending the animals. Her pa had warned the war would get uglier before it was over. He was right.
Their beautiful valley had been hit hard with battle after battle, and the Yankees repeatedly confiscated whatever they wanted. But this was different. Homes had previously been spared but not today.
Sheridan’s troops were systematically eliminating the Shenandoah Valley as a source of grain and livestock for General Lee’s army—one field and one house at a time. The neighbor’s place, devoured by flames, now looked like a beast from hell had feasted.
Her vision blurred, and she brushed away tears with an angry swipe.
She tensed as she spied movement on the road. Her adrenaline spiked as she peered through the sight on her gun. A Yankee. The soldier boldly turned into the drive. Hatred washed hot, and then she froze. The young officer reminded her of her twin brothers—the same wispy hair, angular cheek bones, and deep-set eyes. The urge to rise up from her hiding spot lifted her torso until the blue of his uniform caught her eye. She sank back shaking, until hate once again gave her courage.
A swarm of soldiers followed the young officer to the front porch.
“State your business,” Pa said. The Enfield he held loosely at his side looked more like a toy than a weapon. They immediately trained their muskets upon him. Still mounted on his horse, the officer spoke. “Surrender your gun, and we’ll spare your life.”
A belligerent soldier stormed the few steps and knocked the rifle out of Pa’s hand and laughed into his face. “Come on, old man, got any fight left in you? ’Cause I’m itching for some action.”
A flush of heat washed over Katie as she set her sight on the pig-headed soldier. Her finger itched to pull the trigger.
“Take whatever you want. Just please don’t burn the house.”
The officer hesitated. “Sorry, old man, but an order is an order. You’d better get your family out of the cellar.”
“Hope you got a pretty one for me,” another said. He licked his lips slowly with his long snake-like tongue. Even from the distance, Katie saw the lust smoldering in his evil eyes. She knew only too well what that look meant. She clamped her lips tight to still the scream of rage clawing at her throat.
Pa shook his head in confusion. “What did you say?”
A group of them laughed. “This crazy old buzzard’s gone mad.”
“Can’t understand simple instructions,” another scoffed.
Katie wanted to blast them off the porch. How dare they make fun of her pa when one of their Yankee shells was what destroyed most of his hearing. Turmoil roiled in her stomach and she fought the nausea down.
“Leave him be,” the officer snapped. “When we start burning, he’ll understand.”
He barked out a few short orders, and the soldiers jumped into action, scurrying about like dungeon rats. He dismounted and went into the house with a few of his men.
Pa collapsed into the chair on the porch. His head fell into his hands.
They piled straw around the barn and drove Bessie, their milk cow, and old Sam, the mule, inside. The doors were shut, and their torches lit. Katie watched in surreal horror as the flames danced into action. She lowered her gun and shoved her fist into her mouth. She bit down hard to stifle a cry as the Sam’s bellow reached her ears. Next, the small hay field they had worked so hard to plant was set ablaze. Their last few chickens were thrown into a sack and the little bit of cured meat left in the smokehouse taken.
Katie looked toward the house as the screen door slammed, and the officer and his soldiers carried out provisions. “Come on, old man, off the porch.” The officer grabbed her pa’s arm and lifted him from the chair. He propelled Pa down the steps and into the yard. The house was lit. They stayed just long enough to ensure the damage would be complete. The whole episode took less than fifteen minutes before they turned and rode out of sight. They had been amazingly swift and thorough.
Pa sank to his knees in the dust.
Katie stood on shaky legs and watched the flames lick their way into a towering inferno. The fury inside her heart equaled the intense heat. Black smoke filled her lungs as she ran to her pa. She crumpled beside him and fell into his arms.
Giant tears coursed down his soot-covered face. “Gone. Katherine, everything’s gone. I couldn’t—”
“Shhh, Pa,” she said. “It’s not your fault. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”
Chapter One
Shenandoah Valley—Summer of 1865, Post-Civil War
Katherine glanced up from her work and squinted into the afternoon sun. Dust billowed behind a lone rider. Was that really who she thought it was?
Five years since she had last laid eyes upon the man she would never forget. A tremor took to her hands.
What did he want?
She rued her untimely escape from the stifling heat indoors to sit on her aunt’s front porch and stitch up a frayed hem on her day dress. The urge to dart back inside welled up.
No such luck, his eyes were pinned upon her. She forced herself to stay put but wove the needle into the fabric so she would not prick her finger. Thankfully, a slight breeze lifted the hair on the nape of her neck to cool the heated flush. She had to get over her embarrassment of what happened in the past at some time, and today was as good a day as any. With a show of confidence, she forced a jut to her chin. The only things moving were her hands that nervously threaded material through her fingers.
A tiny bead of sweat trickled down her spine as she reminded herself to smile and stay calm.
He swung from his horse and tethered the reins to the porch rail.
She took in a cleansing breath.
I’m a lady now—a civilized young woman, no longer traipsing unchaperoned about the countryside.
He climbed the steps confidently and made his way toward her. An irregular beat thumped inside her chest. He moved with strength and assurance despite a slight limp to one knee.
She willed the telltale blush of pink away, but with the burn in her cheeks, she knew she’d lost that battle.
He removed the hat
from his head and nodded. A wavy, russet-brown curl fell across his brow. The flattened hair sprang to life as his fingers raked through the thickness. Peppered gray tinged his side burns.
“Good afternoon, Miss Williams.” His eyes crinkled with friendly warmth.
She mumbled an obligatory hello and dropped her eyes to her lap hoping to look demure and hide the tell-tale heat.
“I’m here to have a conversation with your father and hope that my request will meet with your approval.”
Her head snapped up.
He flashed an easy smile.
Katie’s mouth went dry. What did he mean, I hope my request will meet with your approval? She chose not to speak.
He slipped his hat back on his head and took a step as if to leave, then stopped.
She gathered the strength to meet his gaze square on.
His smile softened. “We’ll talk soon enough, Katherine.” A light danced in the depths of his steel-gray eyes.
Apprehension nipped at the back of her neck. “What do you want to talk to my Pa about?” Katherine blurted out the words before her head had time to catch up to her mouth. “If it’s about that incident before the war—”
“Goodness no, Katherine. I told you that would remain between us.” A flicker of disappointment shot across his face.
She shifted in the rocking chair as his intense stare bore down.
Why was he looking at her like that?
She jumped to her feet and inadvertently brushed against him. A quick step back set the rocker swaying, and she stumbled forward as it hit her in back of the legs. He reached out to steady her and held on.
She breathed in a woodsy mixture of pine and leather. A tingling sensation worked its way up her arms, as the warmth from his large but gentle hands penetrated through the thin cotton sleeves of her well-worn dress.
Abruptly turning, she distanced herself. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Richardson, I will fetch Pa. I mean—Father for you.”
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