All Things Beautiful (Uncharted Beginnings Book 3)

by Keely Brooke Keith

  He gave her the chance to speak first. When she said nothing, he removed his hat and walked toward her. “My apologies for coming uninvited and so early in the day. I have something for you. A delivery from the print shop.”

  Hannah lowered the puppy to the ground and watched as it ran after its mother. Then she met his gaze. “Something for me?”

  “Yes,” he answered, opening his satchel. He paused to scan the property. Wade was watching them from the orchard. Doris and the twins were in the vegetable patch, though they were looking in the opposite direction. There was movement in the barn, but with the laundry flapping back and forth in his line of sight, he couldn’t tell if it was Christopher or David. “May we step inside?”

  She raised her regal chin, looking at the back door of the house and spoke with an edge in her voice. “Very well. But I have work to do.”

  “I won’t be long, I promise.” He followed her through the door, which was propped open with a wedge of wood, and up the mudroom steps into the kitchen. The buttery scent of johnnycakes clung to the air, making his stomach grumble.

  She stopped in front of the stove and spoke over her shoulder. “I can put the kettle on, if you want a cup of tea. And there are biscuits,” she said, motioning to a covered breadbasket on the table. “I have apple jam too, if you like.”

  “No, thank you.” Though he had worked through the night and his body begged for sustenance, he had come to fulfill the purpose of his work not feed his belly. He stepped past her to the table and set down his satchel. “Thank you for the honor of reading your story.”

  “You read it?” She breathed the question with hesitation.

  “Olivia was right. It’s one of the best stories I have ever read. Absolutely inspired.”

  She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and turned to face him. “Do you really think so?”

  His hands yearned to reach for her. “I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t mean it.”

  She nodded rigidly. “No. I know. You’ve been quite honest in your assessments.” A sweet smile broke through, banishing the sadness from her eyes. “Inspired, you say?”

  “Exquisitely.” He almost smiled as he pulled the wrapped books from his satchel. It was too soon to be satisfied. He stacked the first three of the books on the table and then held out the fourth to her. “Your story deserved to be printed. I worked night and day until it was done.”

  Her lips parted in surprise as she accepted the book. Before she unwrapped the paper, she looked up at him with a slight furrow between her delicately arched brows. “Had you already finished your assignment from the elders?”

  “No.” He was too far behind now to finish. “This was more important.”

  “More important than making your profession a village-supported trade?”

  “You are more important.” He lifted his chin at the book. “Open it.”

  As she unwrapped the book, paper crackled then floated to the table. She held the book with both hands, her joy-filled face like a mother examining her newborn. She touched the embossed letters then lifted the cover. “Between Two Moons by Hannah Vestal. Printed in Good Springs in the Year of Our Lord 1869. It’s gorgeous. Henry, I…” Her golden brown eyes left the book long enough to glance at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You deserve it.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You worked hard and used the talents God gave you to write a story the whole settlement needs to read.” He waited for her to recoil, but she didn’t. He tapped the other three copies stacked on the table. “One copy is for your father. I’d hoped to deliver it early so you could give it to him for his birthday. The other two copies are yours to do with as you wish, but I’m hoping one copy will be donated to the library.”

  “I’ll have to think about it.” She closed the book’s cover and hugged it to her chest as lovingly as she had cuddled the puppy a moment ago.

  “Yes, of course. And talk it over with Olivia and your father since they know your feelings on the matter and would give you wise counsel.”

  She smiled. “I already know what they would say.”

  “As do I.” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Take your time and think it over. I never want to rush you.”

  “You have been so kind.”

  “No, I haven’t. I have been honest with you but not kind. I will never lower my standards, but I’m determined to give the same grace that I need every day. You came to me and asked for my forgiveness when I was the one who should have apologized. I’ve made so many excuses for myself and refused to excuse others. No more.”

  She laid the book on the table. “I know I don’t make sense sometimes, and—”

  “But you do. After reading your story, I feel like I finally understand you. Not fully but enough. You make sense to me.” His heart drove him to plead for hers. He took her fingers in his good hand. “Hannah, I know you are bound by promise to help raise your sisters, and that’s part of what I admire about you. So, I will wait for you. In the meantime, would you let me court you?”

  Gazing into his eyes, she took his left hand in hers, touching the scars as if they were perfect skin. “I’d like that very much.”

  He drew her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Thank you.” He almost said that she’d made him the happiest man in the village, and indeed every fiber of his being pulsed with joy. However, he would wait to tell her on the day he proposed marriage. For now, he would try to make her the happiest woman.

  The warmth of her hand radiated through his scars. He looked down at his aching hand. “Does it bother you?”

  “No.” She replied quickly then gazed up at him. “Does it bother you?”

  “Sometimes. But it won’t keep me from anything.” He released her hands and reached into his satchel. “I have one more thing for you. I meant to give it to you months back, but the timing didn’t feel right.” He withdrew the sketch of her mother. “I drew this long ago. I want you to have it.”

  She covered her mouth with four thin fingertips. “Henry!” she gasped.

  “I tried to capture your mother’s likeness as she was when she babysat my brother and me as children.”

  “It’s perfect.” She dabbed the corner of her eyes. “Sometimes when I try too hard to remember what she looked like, I can’t picture her at all. But this,” she said, holding the sketch as if it were a treasure map, “is more than I’ve ever wanted.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I’ll ask my father to build a frame.” She stepped toward the parlor. “And we will hang it on the wall. I know the perfect place.”

  He followed her into the next room while she held the sketch up to the wall. Seeing her joyful was more satisfying than any accomplishment, any argument won, any perfection. He leaned against the corner and watched her, filled with contentment.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Hannah tightened her shawl around her shoulders as she mingled with the villagers at the settlement’s eighth anniversary celebration. The autumn equinox’s arrival had brought a chill to the air. Soon the deciduous leaves would change colors, painting the village in splashes of red and gold.

  Autumn was her favorite time of the year and it always began with the village’s anniversary festivities. She’d never been more pleased to celebrate coming to the Land than she was this year. For it was this special place that had opened her imagination, lured her to write, and inspired her with its beauty. In her arms she held two copies of her book, proof of what the right inspiration could help to accomplish.

  Several booths had been set up on the dry grass in front of the chapel. An array of fresh pies and cookies and pastries covered one table. The glassblower stood behind another table offering each child a miniature figurine as a commemorative token. Mrs. Foster sat at one end of a table, showing children how to re-bristle a bone toothbrush, while Mrs. Colburn stood behind the other end, demonstrating how to make salt-based dentifrice. Minnie and Ida intent
ly watched the ladies. Hopefully, the girls would come home with a keen interest in dental health.

  Hannah rubbed her fingertips along the spines of the books she held as she stood on her tiptoes to scan the crowd for Olivia. Gabe spoke with a group on the other side of the chapel steps. As Hannah wove through the crowd, she spotted Olivia beside him and waved.

  Olivia rushed to meet her with eyes growing wide as they landed on the books Hannah held. “Is this it? May I see it?”

  Hannah’s hope of surprising Olivia deflated. “How did you…?” She looked past Olivia at Gabe. “Henry told your husband, didn’t he?” She handed Olivia one book.

  As soon as Olivia took it, she hugged Hannah then beamed as she opened the front cover. “It’s beautiful! Between Two Moons by Hannah Vestal. Can you believe your name is on a book—an actual book? If it were mine, I’d stare at it all the time, getting nothing else done.”

  “I’ve read it twice from cover to cover since Henry brought it to me last week. He printed four copies—one for me, one for my father, and two that I get to choose what to do with. I want you to have this copy.”

  Olivia looked up from the book. Astonishment filled her voice. “You want me to have it?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t have accomplished this—wouldn’t have—without you. From that dark night seven years ago when you sat with me in my parent’s kitchen and read my first pitiful pages—”

  “They weren’t pitiful—”

  “They weren’t printable.”

  “Now you sound like Henry.”

  Hannah laughed. “I’ve learned a lot from him too.” She lowered her voice. “We are courting now.”

  Olivia flashed a knowing grin. “So I heard.”

  “From Gabe?”

  “Of course.”

  It was a good thing she considered Olivia a dear friend, seeing as how there weren’t many secrets between Henry and Gabe. It was even better that she knew whatever Olivia learned from her husband would be kept between them.

  Olivia pressed the book to her chest. “Thank you. I will cherish it always.”

  “Thank you for all of your help and guidance and editing. You put almost as much work into this story as I did.”

  Olivia chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “It meant a great deal to me. I depended on you in a lot of ways after my mother died, but you never minded.”

  “Not only did I not mind, I enjoyed our times together. I hope you write more stories and keep bringing your pages to me.”

  She nodded, grateful to have Olivia’s continued support. “I will.”

  Olivia tilted her head and looked at the other copy, which Hannah was still holding. “What will you do with the fourth book?”

  Hannah glanced across the road at the stone building next to the print shop. The library’s arched door stood open. “Well, since you enjoyed the story so much and Henry called it absolutely inspired and Father finished it last night with tears in his eyes… I think I should donate this copy to the village library.”

  “That’s wonderful news!” Olivia lightly squeezed her arm. “I know it will bless many readers over the years.”

  “That’s the only reason I’m making my story public.” She motioned toward the crowd. “For them. For my village.”

  Olivia nodded. “I would like to teach from the story for the upper grades next year. And maybe someday you could help to create new school readers for the lower grades.”

  “Maybe.” Hannah turned toward the library. “But I have to start with this small step first.”

  “You can do it,” Olivia encouraged.

  Hannah nodded and walked away from the crowded lawn to cross the road. Dr. and Mrs. Ashton stepped out of the library as she approached. Dr. Ashton tipped his hat to her as he passed. “What a skilled young man Henry is,” he was saying to his wife.

  Henry stood inside the library with his back to the door, whistling. His fingers turned the page of a book on a lectern in the center of the room. Hannah’s heels clicked on the stone floor as she entered.

  Henry turned around. He smiled and opened his arms. “Hannah,” he breathed as he kissed the top of her head.

  She pulled back, wishing she wasn’t holding a book. She imagined jumping into his arms and kissing him wildly. Her cheeks instantly warmed.

  Henry cocked his head. “What is that look?”

  “Nothing.” She giggled once then composed herself and pointed at the lectern. “What’s this?”

  He stepped back and gestured toward the book. “This is an error-free copy of the New Testament, printed by yours truly.”

  She stepped forward and studied the open book. Its regal lettering proclaimed the Good News. “You finished it. You met the elders’ challenge. So is it official then? Will the press be supported by the village?”

  Henry rubbed the palm of his scarred hand with the thumb of the other. “I’ve been granted the living, but I’ve refused it.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I don’t need to be taken care of. I can take care of myself. I can print enough books to trade with everyone in the village to get the things I need. I don’t want to be a special case. Yes, I believe we should honor the reverend and schoolteachers and physicians with our abundance, to ensure that they can always continue their work. We should all do our part for the village. I will print the books we need because that is the work I’ve been called to do. Gabe and his father have offered to help me build living rooms onto the shop, and Mr. Foster will help me plant a vegetable patch next spring.”

  Hannah’s heart filled with pride in Henry and with happy anticipation for the possibilities in their future. She glanced at all the empty shelves in the library. “So you are going to spend your life filling these shelves with books?”

  He stepped to the shelves and his excited expression grew. “And not just any books. I realized how easily our skills and crafts and processes could be lost from one generation to the next. We can’t allow that. So, I want to start a new tradition. At the next elders’ meeting, I will propose a system of documenting everyone’s life knowledge.”

  “I think the elders will approve.”

  “I hope so.” He walked back to where she stood and looked at the book in her hands. “You didn’t come only to see me, did you?”

  She smiled at him and shook her head. “In honor of this festive occasion and in honor of the printer who inspired me more than he will ever know, I’d like to make a donation to this library.”

  Henry’s admiring gaze shifted from her eyes to the book she held out and back to her eyes. “Are you certain you want your story to be read by anyone and everyone?”

  “Yes. And I plan to write many more stories, if the village printer is willing to work with me… when the stories are ready to be printed, of course.”

  “I am more than willing.” He accepted the book then leaned down and kissed her.

  She absorbed his warmth and closed her eyes, blissfully aware of the new life unfolding before her. There was one person she wished she could tell, and she would visit the grave later, much later. For now, she would let Henry kiss her and love her and postulate his logical arguments and urge her to greater ambitions while she dreamed up her next story.

  Epilogue

  The village of Good Springs

  Late summer, 2025

  On a quiet evening, Lydia Colburn sat on the parlor rug, reading aloud to her great aunt, Isabella. While the elderly blind woman knitted, Lydia turned the final page of her favorite novel.

  “There is much to be done for these people, for this kingdom, and I will not sit idly in a castle, fussing over jewels and ball gowns,’ Adeline said. She draped a threadbare blanket over a wounded solider then rounded the patient cot. Her kind gaze met Prince Aric’s. ‘But if you are most willing to bring peace to your kingdom,’ she touched his lapel, ‘then yes, my love, I will marry you.’

  Adeline’s heart brimmed with hope—not in the man before her, nor for the
work around her, but in the God who had set eternity in their hearts and would one day make all things beautiful.”

  Lydia closed Between Two Moons and sighed. “I adore Adeline. Don’t you?”

  Aunt Isabella’s knitting needles clicked rhythmically, her old voice gravelly. “I do. As did your mother.”

  “She did?”

  “That’s why she named your eldest sister after the character.”

  “I never realized that.” Lydia considered the story for a moment, its feel and breadth still fresh in her mind. “Do you think when the author wrote it, she knew over a century later people would still get lost in her story?”

  Isabella’s lips twitched before she spoke, her unseeing gaze roamed the room. “I don’t suppose most people know how their work will be received, or if it will be remembered at all.”

  Lydia touched the embossed letters on the book’s cover. “This is the only one of the author’s books that says Hannah Vestal. All the rest have her married name, Hannah Roberts.” She thought of her late mother’s given name. “Was Mother named after the author?”

  “That I could not say. There have been many women named Hannah in the generations since the eighteen sixties. I’m sure some of them were named after the author. And I suspect there will be a great number of girls named after you, Dr. Lydia Colburn, the first female physician in the Land.”

  “I’m not a doctor yet. The elders haven’t awarded me the title.”

  Isabella smiled. “Soon enough, child. Soon enough.”

  Men’s voices rumbled in the kitchen, commanding Lydia’s attention. Her father, Reverend John Colburn, spoke to some frantic person at the kitchen door. As Lydia stood from the floor, John stepped into the parlor. “Lydia, Mr. McIntosh needs you. His son fell from the roof of their barn and has broken his leg. He is bleeding profusely.”

  “Where is the boy?”