Who I Am with You

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Happy?” he asked her a short while after the ceremony concluded with a kiss. Now, as they watched their guests mingling throughout the old Pearson mansion, he was the one who cradled the still sleeping infant.

  “Unimaginably so.” Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his. “And you?”

  “The same. Only it’s more than that. I like who I am with you. I like the man I am because you’re a part of me.” His gaze lowered. “And because Hope’s a part of me. Does that make sense, Mrs. Chesterfield?”

  “Mmm.” She pressed her head against his shoulder. “Perfect sense, Mr. Chesterfield. Absolutely perfect sense.”

  She knew, of course, that there would be moments when they weren’t unimaginably happy. She knew there would be times when they would disagree and even speak words they shouldn’t out of anger. But she also knew God had brought them together, for better or worse, and that they would make it through both the highs and the lows in their lives.

  It was good to believe in tomorrow again. Ridley had given her that. Ridley and the words of life and faith she’d found in her great-grandfather’s beloved Bible.

  A Note from the Author

  Dear Friend:

  I hope you enjoyed your visit to Hope Springs, as well as your introduction to Andrew Henning and members of his family, both past and present.

  As an author, I am often asked where the ideas for my books come from. Many times I can’t answer that question with specifics because so much of my creativity and storytelling happens in my subconscious first and then seems to bubble up in just-when-needed moments without me hardly being aware of why or how.

  However, the same can’t be said for the Legacy of Faith series. I know exactly how it came to be. In 2017, after turning in the manuscript for You’re Gonna Love Me, I was reading my long-used (over twenty years), well-loved Bible, which is full of highlights, dates, and notes in the margins. Suddenly, I wondered what this Bible might mean to members of my family after I am gone. Will one of my daughters or grandchildren or as-yet-to-come great-grandchildren one day leaf through this book and hear God speak to them because of something I wrote or marked within those leather covers? This led me to the idea for this new series, where an ancestor’s Bible touches the lives of those who never knew him.

  As I write this note, I am hard at work on the second book in the series, Cross My Heart, and I have loved returning to the Henning farm in Kuna, Idaho, this time in both the present and the past. An excerpt is included, just to whet your appetite.

  Thank you, as always, for reading my books. It is a joy to share my storytelling adventures with you.

  Warm regards,

  Robin

  Acknowledgments

  Many, many thanks to the fiction team at HarperCollins Christian Fiction for helping to birth another of my stories, from conception through editing and cover design through marketing and publicity and sales. I appreciate you all more than you know.

  Special thanks to my editor Jocelyn. You are such a delight to work with, and I love that you caught the vision for this story and the series from the get-go.

  I can’t imagine my writing career without my terrific agent of 29+ years, Natasha Kern. Natasha, you are a friend, confidante, sounding board, brainstormer, and so very much more. Thanks!

  Of course, my husband, Jerry, deserves a boatload of thanks for holding down the fort when my writing keeps me tied to the chair in my office. I love you, honey.

  Finally, to the Author of life, who created me to create, who gave me a passion for storytelling and put a love for His word in my heart. May my story always be for Your glory.

  Discussion Questions

  1. Which character did you most relate to and why?

  2. Both Ridley and Jessica are trying to hide something about their personal lives from others. Have you ever tried to hide the truth from friends or family?

  3. Jessica’s grief was mixed with anger because of her husband’s betrayal. What has been your experience with grief? Is anger always a part of the process?

  4. Have you ever wondered why God has allowed difficult trials to enter your life? Have you blamed Him or turned to Him for comfort and guidance?

  5. Ridley was falsely accused of bringing down the candidate he worked for. Have you ever been falsely accused of something in public (the press, the internet) and been unable to clear your name because no one seemed to listen? How did you deal with it?

  6. A lost sheltie named Kris helps bring Ridley and Jessica together. How have you seen pets bring people together?

  7. Jessica’s friends, Billie and Carol, tried to keep her from withdrawing from life. How have you been a friend to someone who is/was struggling? Also, they seem to have known the truth about Ellery, long before Jessica discovered it. Were they wrong to keep it from her?

  8. Andrew’s Bible becomes a source of comfort for Jessica. Do you write in your Bible? What will your descendants find therein to encourage them even after you’re gone?

  An Excerpt from Cross My Heart

  Prologue

  KUNA, IDAHO

  April

  Ben Henning showed his cousin Jessica into the kitchen of the old farmhouse. “I’m not really ready for company,” he told her as he motioned to one of the chairs.

  “I can see that.” She smiled as her gaze took in the stacks of boxes in the kitchen, in the living room, and down the hallway.

  “Want some coffee? It’s fresh made.”

  “No thanks. I don’t plan to stay long. I know you’re busy with moving and all. Besides, I need to get back to Mom’s house before it’s time to feed Hope again. She’s growing so fast, and she’s always hungry.”

  Ben settled onto a chair opposite Jessica. “How old is she now?”

  “Almost eight months.”

  “Can’t hardly believe that.”

  “Me either.” Jessica leaned toward the tote she’d set on the floor next to her chair. A moment later, she drew out a large book.

  “Is that—” he began.

  “Andrew Henning’s Bible,” she finished before sliding it across the table to him. “I brought it for you.”

  “For me?” The leather cover was worn and cracked, the outside edges curled. He ran a hand gently over the Bible that had once belonged to his great-great-grandfather.

  “Great-grandpa Andrew . . . Well, I guess he was your great-great-grandfather, wasn’t he? Confusing since you and I are close to the same age. Anyway, he gave it to my Grandma Frani before he died with the instructions that she was to keep it until she felt God tell her to pass it along to another family member. Then they were to do the same whenever the time came. Grandma Frani left it to me, and now I want you to have it.”

  Ben opened the front cover and saw that the first page had been torn, then mended with tape. Several pages stuck together when he turned again, revealing the Henning family tree. His namesake, Benjamin Tandy Henning, was the first child listed beneath Andrew’s and Helen’s names. He ran his finger down the list. The change in penmanship told him when someone else had taken over the task of filling in the names of great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to give it up?” he asked. “You haven’t had it very long. Not even a year.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He heard the smile in her answer before he looked up to meet her gaze.

  “When I heard you were moving to the farm to live, I knew God wanted you to have it. I don’t know why, but I believe He’s got something special in mind for both you and this farm.” She leaned toward him. “When my mom gave me this Bible after Grandma Frani’s funeral, she told me to let what I found inside bless me. And it did, Ben. What I found inside gave me back my faith and restored my hope, and those two things allowed me to open my heart again to love. I don’t know what is in store for you, but I believe God wants to encourage you through His Word and the notes Andrew Henning made inside that old Bible. I think God wants you to be blessed by it next
.”

  Ben felt a quickening in his heart as his cousin spoke. He hadn’t shared his ideas for this property with anyone but God as of yet. He knew the Lord had listened to him. He was sure He’d led him to this place at this time for a purpose. Now his cousin’s words seemed to confirm what his heart had told him was true.

  “Thanks, Jessica.” He closed the leather cover. “This means a lot to me. More than I can tell you.”

  She nodded, and he had the feeling she understood even if he couldn’t put it into words.

  Monday, Sept 4, 1939

  Andrew Henning was in the Kuna Feed and Seed when he learned Britain and France had declared war on Germany. He’d expected other nations to declare war ever since the Nazi invasion of Poland three days earlier, but when it happened, it still caught him by surprise.

  “Mr. Finkel warned us this’d happen,” Andrew’s oldest son said. Sixteen and several inches taller than his father, Ben wore a conflicted expression, a cross between righteous anger and anticipation. “When the Nazis marched into Austria, he said this would happen. And then they took Czechoslovakia, and nobody did anything to stop them. Mr. Finkel told us they wouldn’t stop there.”

  “You’re right. He did.”

  The Finkels had purchased the property across from the Henning farm three years earlier. Jewish immigrants from Germany, Hirsch and Ira Finkel had often expressed their concerns for what Hitler meant to do in Europe. It had been happening as the Finkels predicted, step by step.

  Ben lowered his voice. “Will America join them? Will we go to war, too, Dad?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. I hope not.” He reached out, intending to ruffle Ben’s hair, the same as he’d done for years. Then he thought better of it and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder instead.

  Ben was approaching manhood at a rapid rate. If America went to war, Ben would soon be of age to serve in the military, and given his personality, he would be among the first to volunteer. Ben’s brother Oscar was twelve. Surely a war, if America was drawn into it, wouldn’t last long enough for Oscar to be in danger. Would it? But Oscar would want to be wherever his older brother was, and that worried Andrew. At least little Andy, the youngest of the Henning sons, was only three. He should be safe.

  All the same, war was war, and Andrew wondered what it might mean for his family—and country—in the months and years to come.

  Chapter 1

  Sweat trickled along Ashley Showalter’s spine and down the sides of her face as she carried a board up the ladder. She would rather be inside sipping a cold beverage than be outside in this intense August heat. But she was expecting another horse to arrive today and wanted the new shelter finished before the truck and trailer pulled down her driveway.

  The crunch of gravel warned her it might be too late to finish. She looked up, but the silver truck coming slowly toward the shed wasn’t pulling a trailer. Great. The last thing she wanted was an interruption right now.

  The truck stopped, the door opened, and a man got out, followed by a yellow lab. Ashley was about to shout a warning about her own dogs, but the driver moved to the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate. An instant later, the lab jumped into the bed and lay down in the shade cast by the nearest tree.

  She watched as the man—thirtyish, tall, blond, and impossibly good-looking—headed for the door of her house. Before he reached it, she called to him, “Nobody’s in there.” Not waiting for him to answer, she went down the ladder. By the time she reached the ground, he was approaching her.

  “Are you Miss Showalter?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m Ben Henning.”

  She acknowledged his introduction with a nod while raising her right hand to shade her eyes from the bright sun.

  “I was told you might be able to help me.”

  “Are you looking to buy a horse?”

  “Yes and no.”

  Ashley raised her eyebrows, waiting for a better explanation.

  “I can probably afford to buy one horse now, maybe two. But I’m in need of more. It would serve my purpose best to have half a dozen or so.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. Serve his purpose? What exactly did that mean? Sounded fishy.

  “I own forty acres outside of Kuna.” Ben Henning stuck his fingers in the back pockets of his jeans. “I leased the land to a farmer last summer and this one, but now I’d like to put the barn and some of the land to use in a different way. I’d like it to be an equine therapy barn, to help kids recovering from trauma.”

  Ashley felt a quickening in her chest. She couldn’t help it. She believed in equine therapy. Being around horses healed a person’s spirit. She knew that firsthand. All the same, she wasn’t convinced about this guy. “Do you know anything about horses, Mr. Henning?”

  “Call me Ben, please. As for horses, I’m no rodeo cowboy—” He grinned, showing he wasn’t offended by the tone of her question. “But I know the front end of a horse from the back end, and I can saddle and ride one without help.”

  She relaxed slightly. “Let’s go sit in the shade.”

  “I’d like that, Miss Showalter.”

  “Ashley.”

  “Ashley,” he echoed.

  The way he said her name made her feel funny on the inside. The timbre of his voice was like warm honey.

  Once they were seated on chairs under the covered patio, Ben told her more about his aspirations for a therapy barn. He had a friend whose kid brother, after suffering a traumatic injury, struggled to find his way back to any sort of normalcy. Eventually he’d taken his own life. Sometime after that boy’s funeral, Ben had seen a clip on the news about horse therapy that caught his interest.

  “A few months later, I went to my cousin’s wedding, and her new husband was about to open a retreat center for people who’ve suffered from bullying or bad press. Stuff like that. And it made me think, if Ridley—that’s my cousin’s husband—can do something like that, maybe I could make a go of a horse therapy barn. I don’t expect to make a living from it. But if a few hours in the evening or on a weekend could help a kid who’s struggling . . .” He let the words drift into silence. After a moment, he said, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to go on like that.”

  “No. You shouldn’t apologize for having a passion for something. Especially something that could help others.”

  “Thanks.” He leaned back in his chair.

  “But I’m not sure what you want from me. You said you can buy one or two horses but need more.”

  Ben Henning’s slightly crooked grin made him look mischievous. “I guess I didn’t explain that part well, did I? I was told that you rescue abused horses, and that you know people all around the valley who own horses. It seems to me, maybe we could help each other. You could find horses that could help my kids. Well, not my kids, but the kids I hope will be coming to the barn for therapy. And at the same time, we could help horses who need a new home, whether permanent or temporary. Not mustangs or wild horses, of course. They have to be saddle horses, well-trained and gentle.” He leaned forward again, and his gaze was intense. “Would you be willing to help me find the right kind of horses for a therapy barn? Whether we could buy them or lease them for a year at a time?”

  Ashley frowned. “I don’t know. I’d have to see your setup. Talk to whatever vet you plan to work with. Get an exact idea of what you plan to do, what your needs are.”

  “Fair enough.” His gaze shifted to the shelter. “I interrupted your work. Would you like a hand with that?”

  “No thanks. I’m good.” She answered more out of habit than because she wouldn’t like help. She was simply used to doing things on her own. She had a serious independent streak.

  Ben got to his feet. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it.” He took a card from his wallet and laid it on the table next to her chair. “Call me when you’d like to go have a look at the barn and property.”

  “I’ll do it.” Picking up the card, she rose too.

  “Tha
nks for listening.”

  “Glad to,” she answered, realizing it was true.

  Ben smiled to himself as he drove toward the farm. He’d seen the spark of interest in Ashley Showalter’s eyes, and his gut told him he would hear from her before the week was out. But then he heard his mom’s voice in his head, calling him stupid, and the smile vanished.

  I’m tired of trying with her. Guilt followed. Such thoughts weren’t the best way to honor his mother, as the Bible told him to do.

  Ben couldn’t remember a time when things had been good between him and his mom. Not even when he was a little kid. She’d resented him too much. He’d ruined her plans, she’d told him more than once. Pregnant at sixteen and a mom at seventeen, Wendy Henning hadn’t married the boy who fathered Ben. Had she even known who the father was? Not that she’d ever told Ben. He only knew she blamed having a kid for every problem she’d ever had.

  Any stability experienced during Ben’s childhood had been because of his grandfather, Grant Henning. The two of them remained close to this day, and when Grandpa Grant decided it was time for him to settle into a retirement community, he’d deeded the Henning family farm to Ben. Which had ignited his mom’s fury.

  “Sell it,” she’d shouted at Ben over the phone just that morning. “Do you know what that land is worth?” When he repeated the same thing he’d said for the past year, that he wasn’t going to sell, she’d called him stupid—for the umpteenth time—and hung up.

  Ben had done plenty of dumb things in his life. Keeping the farm wasn’t one of them.

  He slowed the truck and turned onto his property, seeing it through the haze of happy memories. He’d spent countless weekends here in his boyhood. And ten years ago, after a stint in rehab, Ben had lived with his grandparents for a year. When he thought about it now, that year had changed him more than any other.