Captain of Her Heart: Captain of Her HeartA Father's Sins

by Lily George

  He watched as Harriet removed her glove. Then he grasped her left hand, slipping the ring on her third finger. Brookes refused to let go of Harriet’s hand when he finished the vow. He endowed her with all his worldly possessions, true. But Harriet had given him more. So much more, he often grew frustrated at his inadequacy.

  They stood together so, facing Reverend Kirk while he finished the simple, old-fashioned ceremony, the hush of the sanctuary falling like a benediction around them.

  Harriet held Brookes’s hand as they crossed the churchyard to Reverend Kirk’s manse. The reverend had offered to host a breakfast so the little wedding party would not endure the four miles to Brookes Park unfed. She shivered a little and Brookes drew her closer. They would journey back to the Park after the wedding. They’d chosen to delay their honeymoon trip until the spring, anticipating warmer weather, and Harriet still applauded the decision. With relief, she crossed the threshold of the little parsonage and smiled at the cozy warmth enveloping her like a woolen blanket.

  “Can we have a moment alone?” John tilted his head toward the closed parlor door.

  “Whatever are you thinking?” Heat flushed her cheeks. Honestly, John could be incorrigible at times.

  “Nothing improper, I assure you, Mrs. Brookes. But there’s something I want you to see.” Taking her hand, he drew her into the parlor and shut the door.

  He grabbed a worn leather satchel from the settee. “For you.”

  Puzzled, Harriet undid the leather lacings. As she opened the bag, she caught a whiff of a familiar scent—musty, slightly sweet, a smell reminiscent of home. Sinking onto the settee, she drew forth one book after the other, books as familiar to her as members of her own family. With a trembling hand, she smoothed the covers, worn from years of use and abuse. Tears misted her eyes. “Papa’s books?”

  Brookes sat beside her, grasping her hands in his. “Harriet, please don’t be upset.” His words tumbled out in a rush. “You had so much loss in your life. You had nothing left of your father but your memories. I hated for those books to go away and never return. I bought them back so you could keep them and treasure them forever, in the same way you have treasured your memories. I am sorry if I hurt you in doing so, though.”

  “Oh, John.” She traced his scarred cheek with her fingertips. “I’m not upset with you at all. What a lovely gesture. And now, it’s almost like I have Papa here with me, on this happy day. I cannot thank you enough.”

  John leaned over, and she closed her eyes in anticipation for his kiss.

  “Where on earth are the bride and groom?” Aunt Katherine’s voice broke through the closed door, and they both leaned back on the settee, laughing. “We cannot start breakfast without them.”

  “Here we are, Auntie.” Harriet rose and opened the door. She beckoned for John to follow. “I shall thank you properly, Captain Brookes, later.”

  “I look forward to it with great anticipation, Mrs. Brookes.”

  “Oh, my dear, don’t mind me. I can’t help but cry at weddings,” Aunt Katherine warbled, waving her handkerchief at Harriet. “But I will see you both in the spring, perhaps after your London visit?”

  “Of course. But Aunt Katherine, you don’t have to leave Brookes Park yet. Brookes and I are only delaying our wedding trip for warmer weather. Sometimes John’s leg is troubled by the rain and the cold, and he wants to stay closer to home. We would love to have you stay a little longer.” Harriet laid a gentle hand on Aunt Katherine’s shoulder.

  “My dear, it wouldn’t be right at all for me to intrude on your first day at Brookes Park. It’s only a week or so to Bath and I will be happily ensconced in my cozy apartment. But I will miss you, my dear. Take care of John for me.” She smiled at Harriet and gave her a light peck on the cheek. “I’ll be off, then. Charlie Cantrill is riding with me back to Bath, and I hate to keep him waiting. I get scolded enough for being a slow traveler anyway.”

  Harriet tucked her arm into the crook of the old woman’s elbow and saw her to the doorway of the vicarage. “Goodbye, Aunt Katherine. I’ll say a prayer for your safe travel.”

  “Goodbye, my dear.” Aunt Katherine blew her nose in her handkerchief and ventured out into the churchyard, where Charlie Cantrill waited in the barouche. Harriet stood, tears blurring her vision, as Brookes handed his aunt into the carriage.

  “We’ll be going, too, dearie.” Rose slipped into place beside Harriet, with Sophie in tow. “We’ll be at the cottage if you need anything. Sophie is going to work on sewing her Bath wardrobe.” They each pressed a kiss on Harriet’s cheek in turn.

  “Goodbye, Hattie.” Sophie embraced Harriet in her turn. “Remember, take that gown off and hang it up when you get home—the light fabric is easily ruined if you should accidentally spill tea on it or anything.”

  Harriet rolled her eyes. How like Sophie to remember something like that, and consider it most important on a day like today. She gazed down at the dress. It was lovely, though, and she had Sophie to thank for it. “I’ll see to it at once,” she smiled, and gave Sophie a sharp peck on the cheek.

  When Sophie and Rose left the manse, Harriet realized that she was alone with John. Stoames left to fetch the carriage around, and the Reverend returned to the church to ready himself for evening services. She trembled a little. Was she worthy of him? He had done so much for her—did she deserve his love? She would spend the rest of her life trying to maintain his love and trust.

  “Harriet, are you all right?” Brookes crossed the room to stand beside her at the window.

  “Yes, I think I am a little nervous. And this gray weather is so chilly.” She dared not meet his gaze.

  “Harriet,” he replied, his voice gently caressing, “let’s go home.”

  She peered out into the churchyard. Stoames drove the horses around to the mounting block. “Yes, let’s.”

  He handed Harriet into the carriage and climbed in beside her. He grabbed her hand and held it as they swayed slowly over the hills back toward Brookes Park. Tired but immensely satisfied, Harriet rested her head on his broad shoulder. She drank deeply of the chill winter air, and her shaking stopped. Resting beside him, his strength filled her, and she feared nothing the rest of her life might hold.

  Harriet recalled their first meeting, when she wondered if he would understand her need for security. And here she was, safe and secure as a jewel in a vault. Protected, loved, and cherished. True, she shared her faith with him, and yes, he showered her with material goods. But he also gave her something much deeper—the security she sought in vain since that dreadful day the duns invaded Handley Hall.

  A perfect peace settled between them while they rolled over the hilly terrain toward home. Harriet sighed and admired her strikingly attractive husband. “John Brookes, I love you. I have loved you since the first day I saw you out riding by the millpond.”

  He cupped her face with his gloved hand. “Harriet Brookes, my darling. I shall love and treasure you forever.”

  He claimed her lips in a deep kiss, promising nothing but warmth, love and security for the rest of her days.

  * * * * *

  Dear Reader

  First, let me say what an honor it is to be writing for Love Inspired Historical during their fifteenth anniversary year! As you know, this is an amazing publishing house that has brought us hundreds of inspiring and intriguing tales over the years. I am so blessed to be counted as one of their authors.

  As I write this to you, it’s 104 degrees outside, and has been for a few weeks. Summer in Texas makes me long for the chilly wet weather that the inhabitants of Tansley Village, in Derbyshire, experienced in 1816. Known as the year without a summer, temperatures fell 1.3 degrees Fahrenheit around the world. That sounds really good right now—minus the ensuing food shortage, of course. Fort
unately, the Handleys of Tansley Cottage don’t see much of this deprivation, for they don’t have much to live on anyway.

  Harriet Handley is determined to make sure that she, her sister, Sophie, their mother and their kindly servant, Rose, survive, no matter how desperate their circumstances. It’s simply not in Harriet’s nature to sit around and idly wait for rescue. So she decides to take matters into her own hands, and that means embarking on a career as an authoress during a time when the words career and woman don’t exactly go hand-in-hand. Of course, to start her career, she needs the help of Sophie’s intended, Captain John Brookes. His memoirs of the Battle of Waterloo will form the foundation of Harriet’s book—but only if the captain will open up to her.

  Harriet renews the captain’s faith in God. And the two of them find love, as so many of us do, unexpectedly and without warning. Together they embark on a life filled with God’s grace and abundant love. Now, it only remains for Harriet’s flighty sister, Sophie, to find that same radiant promise…

  I enjoy hearing from all my readers, so please feel free to send me an email at Lily@lilygeorge.com. I hope you enjoy reading Captain of Her Heart as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Blessings,

  Lily George

  Questions for Discussion

  Harriet Handley feels that the only way out of poverty is to become an authoress. Why does she consider this her only option? Is financial security important to you? Do you agree with her choice?

  Captain John Brookes is immediately attracted to Harriet, but feels honor bound to her sister, Sophie. Why does he feel he must continue to court one sister, when he loves another? Have you ever felt caught in a situation in which you felt bound to honor your word, though circumstances changed? What did you do?

  John lost his faith during the horrible Battle of Waterloo. Why did he lose faith? Why does he refuse to talk about faith with Harriet? Do you find it difficult to discuss your faith with others?

  Harriet has managed to keep her faith, even after losing her home and all of their possessions. Have you ever faced a difficult situation in which your faith carried you through? How did your faith keep you strong during your darkest hour?

  Lady Handley clings to her past life so tightly that she is depressed, or “suffering from melancholy.” The doctor prescribes laudanum to ease her sorrow—but what would you have done? Was there any other way to lift her depression?

  Sophie finds that John is too different from the man she knew when he went away to war. What reasons does she give Harriet for her change in affection? Why does she take so long to let John know of this change?

  Why won’t the Handley family help Harriet and Sophie? Do you think that it’s right that Harriet cannot bring herself to forgive their actions just yet?

  Why does John finally tell Harriet the truth of what happened at Waterloo? Why does this confession bring them closer together?

  Reverend Kirk helps Harriet and John during very difficult moments of their lives. Have you ever had a pastor or spiritual guide who helped shape or even transform your faith in God?

  Why does Aunt Katherine take an instant liking to Harriet? Detail the many ways she tried to meddle and bring John and Harriet closer together.

  Harriet sells her father’s books to pay for the publication costs of her book. Do you think this is a wise decision? What would you have done, if you were in her shoes?

  Harriet feels an overwhelming sense of obligation to John. Why does she feel such a wide inequality in their relationship? Do you agree with John that their property is no longer divided? Have you ever been in a situation where you felt an overwhelming sense of obligation? How did you deal with it?

  A FATHER’S SINS

  Hannah Alexander

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter One

  In thirty-four years of living, Dr. Karah Lee Fletcher had seldom known true fear until the past few months.

  She hadn’t felt fear when her parents divorced, only a deep sadness. She hadn’t felt much fear after her mother died of cancer and she was on her own in med school. During residency, she had been accused of having the strength and stamina of a California sequoia—even her hair was as red as the interior of those majestic trees.

  But tonight, as she unlocked the front door of the Hideaway Clinic, she felt neither strong nor fearless. Fear, in fact, had become a habit with her lately.

  She made one final check up and down the shadowy, empty street for the patient who had made the emergency call to meet her here. No one. When she’d spoken to him over the telephone, his wheezing had been apparent. Had he run into trouble on his way here? She had urged him to tell her where he was calling from, but he’d insisted on meeting her at the clinic.

  The silence was broken only by the splash of water down on the shore of Table Rock Lake, and the call of a loon, lonely in the darkness.

  She entered the quiet building, scolding herself for her skittishness. What was wrong with her tonight? The tiny village of Hideaway had only been dangerous one time. Typically, it had more small-town charm than nearby Branson, since the tourist crowds were not so large. Hideaway was safe. More important, she knew nothing would happen to her unless God allowed it.

  But she’d seen Him allow a lot of things.

  Bad memories died hard, and her brush with death barely four months ago in this very clinic had left her spooked. She hated that. She particularly missed Taylor Jackson’s company at times like this.

  “Stop it,” she muttered as she rushed through the clinic, turning on all the lights. Taylor had made a strategic mistake recently. He’d asked her to marry him.

  He was better off without her, but she’d had a lot of trouble believing these past two weeks that she could happily live without him. Nevertheless, when she calculated the number of marriages in her family that had failed, the prospect of marriage continued to frighten her. Breaking up with him just gave her one less fear with which to contend.

  She was picking up the telephone to call a nurse to the clinic when the front door gave its familiar squeak. She froze with the receiver in her hand. Why hadn’t she called before coming down here? Karah Lee, you need to start thinking ahead. She turned, and caught her breath.

  The tall, broad-shouldered man that entered had a neck, cheeks and forehead splotchy with a bad case of hives. His lips were swollen. But the swelling and redness didn’t mask the face of the man who’d seemed to be everywhere she was in the past couple of days. She’d seen him on the boat dock across the street two days ago. Several times she’d seen him in the dining room of the Lakeside Bed and Breakfast, almost as if he’d been watching for her to arrive.

  Twice he’d managed to sit in the table next to hers, and he always seemed to be watching a little too closely. Earlier this evening he’d even tried to start a conversation with her. And now he was here?

  She heard the wheezing as he stepped up to the reception window, and she felt badly for being so suspicious. He was truly in trouble. It wasn’t a setup. Why would she expect it to be?

  The man was possibly an inch or so taller than her six-foot frame, with dark gray eyes and hair as black as a rain-drenched night. He didn’t seem to be a threat in his present condition, though the slight swelling around his eyes made him look a little sinister.

  “I take it you’re the Jerrod Houston who called?”

  He nodded, shooting a glance at her, then looking away as if he was s
hy, or very self-conscious about his appearance.

  “Come on back. I’ll put you in exam room two. You sound as if you could use some treatment.” She gestured for him to step through the open doorway between the waiting room and the clinic proper. She had left the door open when she entered.

  For a moment, he hesitated, looking at her again, almost as if he was in a daze. She watched him, irritated by the frisson of alarm that skittered down her spine.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He nodded again.

  She took the stethoscope from around her neck. “Then let’s get you checked out.” She led the way back, hearing not only the wheeze, but stridor, which was a respiratory whistle that meant his breathing was definitely not good. A person couldn’t fake that, could he?

  Why hadn’t she called for backup before coming to the clinic? It was protocol. But tonight this man had sounded rough over the phone, and she’d run out of the cottage with no more than a quick word to Fawn, her foster daughter. She’d thought about calling Taylor, but had decided against it. Too painful this soon after the breakup. Stupid move!

  “Have you had trouble before with anaphylaxis?” she asked.

  Jerrod nodded. “Allergic to peanuts.” Though his voice over the phone—and earlier in the dining room—had been a medium baritone, it was now a thin reed of sound.

  “Do you ever carry an epi pen with you?”

  “I’ve already used it.”

  That meant he was worse than she’d thought. Epinephrine wore off pretty quickly. She sized him up. He was a young guy; he could take another shot. “I’ll need to do an assessment on you, but let’s get you feeling better first.” She reached for the epi syringe. “Are you allergic to anything besides peanuts? Drugs of any kind?”