All Through the Night
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Praise for Tara Johnson
“All Through the Night strikes all the right notes in a Civil War drama. Principled yet flawed characters grow with every chapter, a multifaceted setting brings the era’s turmoil to life, and intrigue and danger keep the pages turning. Inspired by a real woman, this novel sings with spiritual truths sure to harmonize with any reader’s life story. Another winner from Tara Johnson.”
JOCELYN GREEN, CHRISTY AWARD–WINNING AUTHOR OF VEILED IN SMOKE
“A soul-satisfying story, peopled with characters who shine all the brighter against the dark backdrop of the Civil War. All Through the Night will leave you with a song in your heart and a deeper appreciation for the courageous men and women who endured and changed the course of history by their stand for truth.”
LAURA FRANTZ, CHRISTY AWARD–WINNING AUTHOR OF THE LACEMAKER
“The tumult of the Civil War serves as a fitting backdrop for this story of two wounded people searching for purpose and approval. Cadence and Joshua are endearing characters, each seeking to do the right thing and bring healing to a broken world, no matter the cost. Tara Johnson has penned a romantic and touching tale that also highlights a little-known and sinister aspect of Civil War history. All Through the Night is a memorable novel not to be missed!”
SARAH SUNDIN, BESTSELLING AND AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF WHEN TWILIGHT BREAKS AND THE SUNRISE AT NORMANDY SERIES
“Tara Johnson is one of those rare writers who can weave history and fiction so seamlessly the reader is never sure where one ends and the other begins. A true talent and author to watch.”
ELIZABETH LUDWIG, USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR, ON ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT
“All Through the Night is full of rich details that bring the Civil War to life and a delightful romance that is sure to warm readers’ hearts. Those who enjoy engaging historical romance novels will fall in love with the strong but wounded hero, Dr. Joshua Ivy, and the talented yet hesitant heroine, Cadence Piper. The extra touch of suspense will keep readers up late and turning pages until they reach the very satisfying ending. Well-written and highly recommended!”
CARRIE TURANSKY, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF NO OCEAN TOO WIDE
“This is the kind of story that makes you want to cry, cheer, sometimes raise a fist, and other times sit back in your chair and go, ‘Hmm.’ The Civil War period is delightfully captured in all its definitive glory in All Through the Night, another memorable tale from author Tara Johnson that you won’t want to miss.”
MICHELLE GRIEP, CHRISTY AWARD–WINNING AUTHOR
“Tara Johnson’s All Through the Night will captivate you from page one. Beautifully written, the tale weaves you, the reader, into the story, until you walk with Cadence and Joshua. It’s a must-read!”
ANE MULLIGAN, AMAZON BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE CHAPEL SPRINGS SERIES
“Johnson returns to the Civil War for another exciting inspirational romance featuring a dedicated, devout heroine. . . . Johnson embeds the story with her customary attention to historical detail, but the deeply wounded characters remain the focus of this ruminative investigation into the personal toll of war. Johnson’s Christian elements are subtle, allowing Cassie and Gabe’s perseverance to provide inspiration and hope. Fans of Lynn Austin will enjoy this.”
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY ON WHERE DANDELIONS BLOOM
“Where Dandelions Bloom is a refreshing historical romance with surprising takes on gender roles. . . . Subtle messages about the power and necessity of forgiveness weave in.”
FOREWORD REVIEWS
“A beautifully written love story that takes place amid the horrors of the American Civil War . . . [with] the message of the peace we can have in the Lord in spite of turmoil, hope instead of despair, the importance of forgiveness, not only toward others but also toward one’s self, and of not wasting the life God has blessed us with.”
CHRISTIAN NOVEL REVIEW ON WHERE DANDELIONS BLOOM
“Bringing facets of Civil War history to life, Where Dandelions Bloom is an engaging journey of hidden identity and of discovering what’s most important in life—and in love.”
TAMERA ALEXANDER, USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR
“In her sparkling debut . . . Johnson crafts an inspirational tale of love, fortitude, and what it means to do the right thing when the very concept of ‘right’ is challenged.”
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY, STARRED REVIEW OF ENGRAVED ON THE HEART
“A timeless and timely theme of helping persecuted people blooms into an unusual Civil War romance that explores Keziah’s search for a purpose, the intersection of faith and practice, and how single acts have far-reaching effects.”
FOREWORD REVIEWS ON ENGRAVED ON THE HEART
“Debut novelist Johnson does not shy away from the horrors of slavery and the important role of the Underground Railroad, but the tone of this historical romance is much lighter than expected. . . . Fans of the genre will be pleased.”
LIBRARY JOURNAL ON ENGRAVED ON THE HEART
“Keziah and Micah brave danger and death to help slaves journey to freedom, reminding readers that choosing right often involves great sacrifice.”
CBA CHRISTIAN MARKET ON ENGRAVED ON THE HEART
“A truly lovely debut novel. [Told] through the eyes of an unlikely heroine awakening to the injustices of slavery, Engraved on the Heart brings Savannah, Georgia, during the Civil War to life. . . . A book to savor and an author to watch!”
SARAH SUNDIN, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE SEA BEFORE US AND THE WAVES OF FREEDOM SERIES
“Set amid the beauty of Savannah, Georgia, at the onset of the Civil War, Engraved on the Heart is a story that is as spiritually profound as it is romantic. . . . A remarkable, memorable debut!”
LAURA FRANTZ, AUTHOR OF THE LACEMAKER
“Lovers of Civil War fiction will rejoice to add Engraved on the Heart to their collections. I’ll be looking for more from Tara Johnson!”
JOCELYN GREEN, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE HEROINES BEHIND THE LINES CIVIL WAR SERIES
“Blending realistic, relatable characters and the heartrending issue of slavery against a beautifully painted backdrop, Tara Johnson presents a debut novel that will leave you satisfied and yet still wanting more. . . . I highly recommend this engaging and intriguing historical novel.”
KIM VOGEL SAWYER, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF BRINGING MAGGIE HOME
“Tara Johnson delivers a stirring tale of danger and hope in Engraved on the Heart.”
ROBIN LEE HATCHER, RITA AND CHRISTY AWARD–WINNING AUTHOR OF YOU’LL THINK OF ME AND YOU’RE GONNA LOVE ME
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All Through the Night
Copyright © 2020 by Tara Johnson. All rights reserved.
Cover photograph of street copyright © by Lana Kray/Adobe Stock. All rights reserved.
Cover photograph of woman copyright © by captblack76/Adobe Stock. All rights reserved.
Cover illustration of frame copyright © by vectorwins/Adobe Stock. All rights reserved.
Designed by Eva M. Winters
Edited by Danika King
Published in association with the literary agency of Books & Such Literary Management, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409.
Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, King James Version.
Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version,® NIV.® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
All Through the Night is a work of fiction. Where rea
l people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales appear, they are used fictitiously. All other elements of the novel are drawn from the author’s imagination.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Tyndale House Publishers at csresponse@tyndale.com, or call 1-800-323-9400.
ISBN 978-1-4964-2839-4
Build: 2020-07-15 11:08:20 EPUB 3.0
Dedicated to two amazing women, born decades apart
For Gladys Meier, a woman of many talents whose determination and spirit has helped make me who I am today. Thank you for being such an amazing cheerleader, Grandma. I love you.
For Leah Barley. Friend. Confidante. Fighter. Sweetness personified. Your life on this earth seems short in length of years, but you lived them wisely, shining like the purest star. You, more than any other, capture the spirit of Cadence Piper. My life is richer for having known you. Until I see you again, dear friend . . .
“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
—ELBERT HUBBARD
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
A Note from the Author
Preview of Where Dandelions Bloom
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Discussion Questions
Prologue
MARCH 1861
WASHINGTON, DC
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.” I will fear no evil. I will fear no evil . . .
Cadence Piper walked down the darkened street, clutching her reticule to her middle. Her booted footsteps clicked loudly against the gritty walk. She winced at the echo that drifted back from the inky alley to the right. A chill crawled down her spine. Why hadn’t she left the Ladies Aid meeting sooner?
Thunder grumbled overhead as the scent of coming rain filled the air. Would Father be worried? Since they’d moved here from Boston, he’d been so occupied setting up the business he’d not had much time to escort her around town. She’d not minded overly much. Until now.
Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin and prayed the action would settle her quaking stomach.
A portly man in a dark coat and tall hat approached, his steps rapid. She stiffened and tucked her head down, only to release the pent-up breath when he passed a moment later without sparing her a glance. She was overreacting. The circles of gaslights dotted the streets. A slow, soft drizzle started, creating a layer of silver dew on the sleeves of her dress. Just a few more blocks.
The faint sound of crying drifted through the night. She paused. Not the wail of a man or woman, but the heartbroken cry of a child. Her heart tugged, even as the odor of rotting garbage and the stench of urine assaulted her.
Pausing, she squinted, peering down another alley to the right. The crying was coming from its depths, she was certain. Dare she look further?
A shiver skimmed her skin. The thought of stepping foot into that black corridor made her tremble, but she could not leave a hurting waif alone. What if the child were sick or had been abandoned? A hundred scenarios peppered her imagination. She’d not sleep a wink tonight unless she checked. Wincing, she slowly entered as the drizzle turned into a steady rain. The darkness tore at her remaining courage.
She jumped when the toe of her boot bumped an empty glass bottle littering the ground. It rolled, and the strident sound bounced through the hollowed, eerie space. The faintest beam of light illuminated the alley wall. The rest was black as coal.
The crying grew louder.
Cadence braved a word. “Hello? Are you hurt?”
The crying muted into a soft whimper.
“It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. I only want to help.” Her fingers scraped wet, gritty brick.
Silence.
“You’re not in trouble. I promise.”
Sniffle.
Poor lamb. Cadence felt through her reticule for the stick of hard candy that was always present. “Here. I don’t have food, but I have a peppermint stick. Would you like it?”
Another sniffle. “Yes’m.”
She smiled. “Then you must come to me. I can’t see you.”
Shuffling.
“Follow the sound of my voice.”
Small, cold fingers grasped her arm. Cadence patted the frigid hands, trying to impart what warmth she could. “There you are, love.” She pressed the peppermint stick into the child’s hands and stooped down. The little body leaned close, seeking her warmth. Crunching sounds broke the quiet of the night.
“Do you live here?”
A smacking sound. “No.”
“Then how did you come to be here?”
“I’m alone.”
The way the girl said it, so matter-of-fact, pierced her to the quick. Cadence found the child’s back and stroked it gently. “I understand. I lost my own mother. It hurts deeply, doesn’t it?”
Another sniffle, followed by more crunching. She could not leave this little mite to fend for herself. She would not.
“Do you know what I do when I miss my mother?”
“What?”
“I pull out a memento she gave me and hold it close to my heart. One of her lockets or handkerchiefs. Do you have a special keepsake from your parents?”
The girl shook her head in the darkness, her body bumping Cadence’s. “No, ma’am. I have nothing.”
Swallowing a swell in her throat, Cadence dug through her reticule, fingers skimming the fabric until she found the desired object. “Here.” She groped for the child’s hand and set the cool object in her palm.
“What’s this?”
“One of my mother’s hairpins. I take it with me everywhere.” She wrapped her hands around the child’s cold, sticky fingers. “Take it.”
The child gasped. “For me? Truly? But it was your mother’s.”
“I have others. Let it remind you that you’re never alone.”
She sniffed. “I feel alone.”
“God is watching over you.”
Silence, save for the drip-drip of water from the rooftops.
“What else do you do when you’re lonely or afraid?”
Cadence stroked the child’s wet, stringy tendrils of hair. “I sing.”
“Sing what?”
Clearing her throat, she lifted her voice softly.
“Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
O receive my soul—”
“Are you mad?”
Cadence’s heart strangled at the masculine voice. Heavy footsteps stomped toward them. She pushed to her feet as the child clutched her damp skirts. Cadence’s pulse clattered to a halt. The large form of a man hovered over them, his shadowed outline boding danger.
But then he turned to the girl. “I thought I’d lost you. You must stay wit
h me. It’s far too dangerous. No wandering off.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come.” The clipped command grated.
As the child moved to his side, Cadence lurched forward, took her hand, and hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”
He whirled around. “Pardon?”
“How dare you bully this poor child and steal her away. She’s naught but a poor orphan and a hungry one at that!”
“Oh, really?” Amusement colored his deep baritone. “Is that what she told you?”
Cadence swallowed. “Of course.”
The imposing man inclined his head to the girl. “Did you tell her you had no parents?”
The child mumbled, “No, sir. I told her I was alone.”
Confusion ribboned through Cadence’s middle. What was going on?
The stranger sighed. “You’re alone because you ran off. This poor woman thinks she’s aiding a hungry orphan living on the street. Not a girl who disobeyed her father.”
The child’s voice was meek. “I’m sorry.”
The man turned to leave and Cadence grabbed his arm. Something was odd about the whole affair. “Sir, if you please, how do I know you’re speaking the truth?”
He whirled back, his face mere inches from her own. He was so close, she could see the faint outline of his angular jaw and lips, despite the dark shadows cocooning them. The scent of bay rum and shaving soap filled her nostrils.
“Miss, if you’d be so kind, I’d like to take my daughter and return home before she catches her death of cold. That is, if your singing hasn’t alerted every pickpocket and troublemaker to our presence already.”
Blood drained from her head as he scooped up the girl and departed. Along with the sound of his fading footsteps, Cadence heard the child’s faint call.
“Thank you, miss.”
Cadence pressed a hand to the pulse thrumming in her throat. A waft of dank air slapped her face as more thunder rumbled.
What kind of father roamed the alleys at night with his young daughter in tow? A disreputable one, no doubt. Still, she couldn’t suppress the irritation that flamed when she considered the confusion that had occurred. How was she to know alone didn’t mean abandoned? And she’d given away one of Mother’s hairpins because of her impulsiveness. Louisa was correct. She was far too rash in her decisions.