What Once Was Lost

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  September 1890

  Christina leaned her temple against Levi’s shoulder. The porch-swing chains creaked softly, adding harmony to the gentle whisper of wind through the thick bushes growing alongside the porch. The remnants of their celebration—strips of colorful crepe paper, flower petals, and food scraps—decorated the still-green yard. She supposed they should clean it all up before night fell, but reluctance to leave her cozy spot at her husband’s side kept her curled on the swing.

  Levi’s chest rose, and his breath whisked out on a sigh. She shifted her head slightly to peer into his face. Pure contentment showed in the slight upturning of his lips and lazy droop of his eyelids. She raised up and placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw just because she could. Her husband … Was there any sweeter word?

  He tightened his arm around her shoulders as the breeze picked up. “Reverend Huntley did a fine job today.”

  She nodded although she couldn’t recall a thing the man had said except, “I now declare you husband and wife.”

  “Mary Ann and Louisa outdid themselves with that feast.” He slapped his belly. “I’ve never seen so much food.”

  Had there been food? She’d been so busy feasting her eyes on the man to whom she’d pledged her life all hunger had fled.

  “And that little one of Cora’s … Cutest baby ever, I’d wager.”

  Two-month-old Mary Christina was beautiful, she concurred as she nestled her cheek into the curve of Levi’s neck. But she expected their own baby, should the Lord bless them someday, would outshine any other.

  “It sure was good of the Dunnigans to come.” Levi stroked Christina’s upper arm through her lace sleeve. The warmth of his broad palm raised tremors of awareness from her scalp to her toes. “But don’t you think Rose did an awful lot of crying for someone who was supposed to be happy for us?”

  Christina gave a start. “Did Rose cry?”

  His eyebrows shot skyward. “She cried through the whole ceremony.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” Christina brought up her legs and tucked her slipper-covered heels against the edge of the seat. “I suppose I didn’t notice.”

  Levi chuckled, his belly vibrating against her side. “She probably didn’t cry as much as you will tomorrow, though, when it’s time to tell Tommy good-bye.”

  “I won’t be the only one crying,” she predicted.

  “You’re probably right,” Levi said.

  As difficult as it would be for both of them to send Tommy to Kansas City tomorrow with the Dunnigans, they knew they’d made the right choice. Tommy was far too bright to be denied the best education available, and he’d receive it at the Kansas City School for the Blind. Christina marveled anew at Mr. Dunnigan’s benevolence.

  She wriggled more securely into Levi’s embrace as a night owl called from a distant tree and shadows lengthened across the ground. They fell into a peaceful silence, enjoying the quiet after the boisterous afternoon. Christina appreciated the support of the town, coming out to the poor farm—the Dunnigan Orphans’ Asylum, she corrected herself—to celebrate Levi’s and her nuptials. Within weeks the rooms would begin to fill with children in need of care. Private, quiet moments like this would become a thing of the past.

  She allowed her eyes to close. She breathed in, enjoying the scents of her wedding day. Musky earth, crisp breeze, a hint of wood smoke from the bonfire where they’d danced to Tommy’s harmonica. And, best of all, the woodsy, rich smell that clung to Levi’s skin. Even though he’d sold his mill, he continued to carry the scents of pine and cedar and oak. His woodworking tools waited in the barn, along with a supply of cut lumber, which he would use to craft one-of-a-kind pieces of furniture, just as Far had done before him.

  At first she’d resisted his decision to let the mill go, but then, in prayer, God had reminded her of the significance of his choice. No more would he hold himself away from others, living in solitude, but he would willingly share his life with fatherless children. Such a change God had wrought in Levi’s heart …

  “Christina?”

  She sighed. How she loved the sound of her name uttered in his deep, tender tone. “Yes?”

  His arms slipped around her middle, his chin against her cheek. “Are you ready to turn in?”

  So many bits and pieces of her day had already slipped away, but Christina knew she’d never forget the coming minutes—when she and Levi would join in the most intimate of ways. The words Levi had carved into the handcrafted cedar box whispered through her heart.

  She stood and held her hands to him. She quoted, her voice husky, “ ‘Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.’ ”

  He took her hands, a tender smile blooming across his face. He rose, his shadow stretching across the porch floor to encompass hers. And then, hand in hand, they entered the house together.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Mom and Daddy, when you took out a loan to fund the printing of my first book in 2002, did you have any idea I’d one day celebrate the release of my thirtieth novel? You probably did, because you’ve always believed in me more than I believed in myself. Thank you for your confidence. I love you both muchly.

  Don, bless your heart, you take on so much responsibility to allow me the time to write. Thanks for cleaning, cooking, doing laundry, and giving your military-brand encouragement: “Get in there and write!”

  Jay and Mary Creeger, your names fit perfectly in this story of new beginnings. God bless you both as you continue to journey with Him.

  FSBC choir members, your prayers and support are so important. Thank you for willingly offering both just when I need it.

  CritGroup14, what would I do without you ladies? I would flounder. Thanks for always being there.

  Tamela, I appreciate you as an agent, but more than that I appreciate you as an advocate of Christian fiction. Thank you for being such an integral part of my writing ministry.

  Shannon and the wonderful team at WaterBrook, it’s been a delight to become acquainted with my new publishing family. Thank you for making me feel so at home.

  Finally, and most important, abundant gratitude to God for Your gentle guidance, Your ever-presence, and for carving new pathways when my road seems to reach a dead end. You complete me. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. For years Christina found her sense of worth and purpose in taking care of the residents of the Brambleville Asylum for the Poor. When the house burned and her people were scattered, she lost not only her home and companions but her own feelings of value. Has your sense of worth ever been shattered? How did you rebuild it?

  2. Levi turned his back on faith when people who claimed to be Christians hurt him. Do we have higher expectations for those who proclaim Christ as Lord? Is it fair for us to judge Christians and non-Christians differently? If so, why? If not, why not?

  3. Levi chose to handle his hurt by separating himself from others rather than risking being hurt again. When someone you trust hurts you, how can you resolve the situation without suffering a rift in the relationship?

  4. Cora was raised by someone who was emotionally distant; therefore, when she was offered affection, she found the attention so gratifying she allowed it to go beyond what was appropriate. By what yardstick can we measure friendship so that the people we choose as companions build us up rather than break us down? If you are a parent, what are you doing to make sure your children are loved and accepted so they won’t feel the need to search for affection from others who might not have their best interests at heart?

  5. Christina experienced frustration, confusion, and anger when Tommy preferred Levi’s caretaking to her own. How did Tommy grow and change when Levi expected him to take on responsibility for himself? Was Levi kind or unkind to put such high expectations on a boy who couldn’t see? How can we determine what are fair expectations for the people with disabilities in our lives?

  6. Christina was
accused of a crime because of circumstantial situations. She was reluctant to accuse Hamilton Dresden, despite her suppositions, because she knew how it felt to be wrongfully accused. Have you ever been falsely accused? Did you seek to exonerate yourself or allow time to expose the truth? Which path is more biblical, if either?

  7. Christina, Levi, Cora, and Tommy were all impacted by people in their pasts. The things they heard from those they loved continued to influence their present lives. Some of those influences were positive, and others were negative. Who are the people in your life that have influenced you? Has their impact been more positive or negative? How do we overcome the negative voices that live in our heads? How do we apply the positive ones?

  8. Maxwell Dunnigan honored his adopted father’s kindness by “paying it forward.” What kindnesses have you received that you could share with others?

  A Selection from

  Echoes of Mercy

  Sinclair, Kansas

  1906

  CAROLINE

  If he didn’t choose her, she might stamp her foot and wail. The over-night train trip from Lincoln, Nebraska, to Sinclair, Kansas—without even an opportunity to splash her face with cold water prior to her frantic dash to Dinsmore’s World-Famous Chocolates Factory—had left her wilted, exhausted, and more than a little grouchy. Weariness momentarily sagged her shoulders, but Caroline resolutely straightened her spine and held her chin high while the hiring agent walked slowly along the line of six hopeful women, scraping each of them from head to toe with an unsmiling gaze.

  His boot heels thudded against the polished wood floor of the stuffy office, overriding the muffled clanks and wheezes seeping into the small room from the factory below. Each resounding thump was a nail being pounded into the lid of a coffin. He would bury the hopes of five of the six who’d answered the advertisement for a new toter.

  The man came to a halt before the timid-looking girl on Caroline’s right. The poor thing squirmed, pressing her chin to one hunched shoulder and grinding the toe of a worn brown shoe against the floor. Sympathy for the younger woman, who was surely no more than fourteen years of age, twined through Caroline’s heart. The man’s charcoal pinstriped suit and crimson silk ascot beneath his goatee gave him a dapper appearance, but his furrowed brow and piercing eyes ruined the effect. He’d introduced himself as Gordon Hightower, and he seemed to emulate his name by peering down his nose at all of them. The man was as intimidating as an army sergeant making an inspection. For one brief moment Caroline found herself hoping the young girl would be the one chosen—judging by her tattered frock, scuffed shoes, and filthy knuckles, she needed the job—but Caroline pushed aside the fleeting thought with steely determination. She must be the single new hire invited inside that factory. How else would she uncover the details of Harmon Bratcher’s death?

  Quick as a lightning strike, Hightower thrust his hand forward and grabbed the girl’s upper arm. A startled yelp emerged from her mouth, and her eyes flew wide open. Caroline nearly intervened because he had no right to terrorize the poor child so. But fear of being sent out the door held her silent.

  Hightower gave the girl’s arm several quick squeezes, and then he released her, his lips pursed in disgust. “You haven’t got enough meat on your bones to tote a broom, let alone carry filled trays of confections.” His derisive tone snapped like a lash, and the girl cringed beneath the words. “We asked for a toter. Qualifications are strong arms and able legs. Didn’t you read the notice?”

  Up and down the line, the women flicked glances at the others’ forearms. The one on the far end clenched her fists. Caroline stared at the firm muscles displayed beneath the taut fabric of the woman’s worn blue sleeves. If strong arms were a qualifier, the hiring agent would certainly choose that woman over all the others. Caroline’s determination to be ushered into the Dinsmore’s Factory wavered.

  The girl released a helpless whimper. “I … I don’t know how to read, sir.”

  Caroline closed her eyes, a familiar frustration filling her breast. What had kept this child from attending school? Other jobs? A mother who needed extra hands at home to help with younger siblings? No matter the reason, the girl’s inability to read destined her to a life of poverty. Caroline gritted her teeth, holding back a growl of indignation.

  “I can’t use you.” The man flipped his wrist, the dismissive gesture showing his total lack of empathy.

  Tears welled in the child’s wide blue eyes. “But I gotta get hired on, sir. Already been turned away at three other places. My pa he said he’d beat me senseless if I didn’t get this job.”

  Hightower folded his arms over his chest and glowered at the girl. “You can’t be a toter. Toting takes strength. You haven’t got strength.”

  “But I do!” The girl clasped her hands beneath her chin, her expression pleading. “I’m stronger’n I look. Honest, I am. Can’tcha just gimme a chance?”

  The agent leaned in, his nose mere inches from the cowering child’s. “Those trays hold up to fifteen pounds each. Toters haul three trays at a time. You drop one load, and a good five dollars’ worth of candy is wasted. That’s too much to risk.” He caught her arm again and gave her a little push toward the door. “Now get. Tell your pa to pay better attention to the qualifications next time he sends you out.”

  With sobs heaving her skinny shoulders, the girl skittered out the door, but the sound of her distress drifted from the hallway and flayed Caroline’s soul. She gazed at the open doorway where the girl had slipped away, sending up a silent prayer. A tiny seed of hope wiggled its way into the center of her heart. If the girl couldn’t secure a job, maybe her parents would send her to school instead. She’d learn to read, to write, and to figure sums. Then in another few years when she was full-grown, she could find a decent job. Not all parents were as heartless as her own. This girl might have a chance to—

  “You!”

  The barked command ended Caroline’s musings. She jerked upright, blinking several times. Hightower stood before her, his frown fierce. She licked her dry lips. “Yes, sir?”

  “How old are you?”

  Caroline hesitated. She knew what she was supposed to say, and she knew the man would accept it. Her round face and smooth skin gave the appearance of someone much younger than her true age of twenty-seven. The Labor Commission had given her stern instructions to carve five or six years from her age when asked. The fabrication helped hide her real identity. Even so, lies didn’t slip easily from her tongue. She lifted her chin in a flirtatious manner and tiptoed around the question. “Does it matter?”

  “It might.”

  She offered a coy shrug. “The qualifications didn’t include a specific age.”

  He grunted—a very ungentlemanly sound that contrasted with his refined attire. He cleared his throat and moved down the line, snapping out questions and summarily sending the next three hopefuls out the door by turn.

  With the final slam of the door, Caroline and the thick-armed woman remained as the only contenders for the single position as toter. Caroline quickly examined her competition, noting the woman eyed her with equal interest. Dislike gleamed in the woman’s beady gaze, sending prickles of unease up Caroline’s spine. This woman intended to secure the position no matter the cost. But Caroline’s need was too great for her to concede defeat. She might be tired, rumpled, and less muscular than the other woman, but she would win. With God’s help, she amended, she would win. Noble expected it. And the future of Kansas children depended on it.

  Hightower strode behind a massive, clean-topped desk, which filled the center of the room. He frowned at the pair of women. “Come over here.”

  In unison Caroline and her adversary moved to the opposite side of the desk and stood side by side. Caroline’s muscles twitched, and her belly churned. She linked her hands and let them fall loosely against the front of her wrinkled skirt, hoping the casual pose would hide her inward nervousness. How she hated this part of the process. No matter how many times she vied
for positions, it never got easier. When she shared her reservations with her supervisor, Noble always chided her, reminding her that being chosen fulfilled the commission’s purpose.

  But it also meant someone else must lose.

  She glanced again at the other woman, who glared at Caroline like an angry bull. Beneath the bluster Caroline glimpsed a desperation that pierced her as deeply as the young girl’s wails of despair had. Lines fanned from the corners of the woman’s eyes. Gray hairs lay among her dark tresses, which she’d slicked back from her face into a severe bun. A thickened waist and sagging jowl spoke of years. Forty? Forty-five? Caroline couldn’t be sure, yet she knew the woman was old enough to have a family. Did she need this income to support several children?

  Once again her stomach clenched as remorse smote her. She fought the ugly emotion, reciting Noble’s gentle admonition in her mind: “You’re there to do good, Caroline. Set aside the guilties, and remember you’re the only one who can do the real job.” The “guilties,” as Noble called them, didn’t completely dissolve, but she calmed. Yes, she was here to do good. Good for the Labor Commission. And good for the current generation of Kansas youngsters and the generations to come. She would focus on those people rather than the single, needy individual standing beside her.

  Hightower had opened a drawer and removed two sheets of paper and a pair of stubby pencils. He slid the items across the desk. “Answer the questions. I’m going to prepare the second half of your test. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” His wide strides carried him across the room and out the door.

  The other woman poked her tongue out the corner of her mouth, snatched up her pencil, and began scrawling words onto the waiting lines.

  Caroline lifted the page and glanced at it. Name, hours available to work, expected wage … She’d answered the questions a half-dozen times before and knew the appropriate responses. Even so, she hesitated. Somehow putting lies down in black lead on cream paper made them more glaring.