Truly Yours Historical Collection December 2014

by Susan Page Davis, Paige Winship Dooly, Connie Stevens

  “Sadie, dearest,” he said, sitting down beside her, “I hope you understand. I need to go back to Kentucky, just for a short time. I don’t want to leave you in a mess, so I’ll wait until we have the new barn up, but. . .”

  Sadie sat speechless, staring at him, and Harry winced.

  “I’m coming at this backward, aren’t I?” he asked.

  “Well. . .” She wasn’t sure how to respond so she waited, her heart hammering.

  Harry slid off the settee to one knee and reached for her hands. “I love you, Sadie.”

  She could breathe then. She squeezed his hands and tried to speak, but nothing came out, and tears were threatening her again.

  He looked at her with his tender, purposeful brown eyes. “Will you marry me?”

  She gasped. “Oh, Harry, do you mean it? I’ve been so wicked!”

  “No. Don’t think that.”

  “But I do! And you have your farm in Kentucky.”

  “Yes, but that’s what I was going to tell you. If you’ll be my wife, we can go there if you want and build a new farm, or we can stay here. Sadie, I know you love this place, and it’s your home. I’d be willing to sell my land in Kentucky and move here. A neighbor out there would love to have it. But I don’t want you to think I’m only doing this because of the land. If the judge told us tomorrow you couldn’t keep this place, it wouldn’t make any difference to me. I love you so much that it doesn’t matter to me where we live, just so you’ll be happy.” He stopped and bit his lower lip. “Does that make sense to you?”

  She smiled, wishing she could banish the tears in her eyes. “Yes, Harry. It makes perfect sense. I’d like to stay here and get the farm back to how it was when Papa ran it. That may take awhile, though, with this setback.”

  He shook his head. “Darling, I’d be happy to invest in this place. In the spring we can be married, and we’ll build a bigger barn then. And if that stud colt of yours doesn’t turn out the way we want, we can ride over to Richmond together and look for another one, and. . .”

  Sadie felt her cheeks go scarlet, but she couldn’t make herself look away from his eager face.

  “Sorry,” Harry said. “I was getting a bit carried away there, but you understand.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “Does that mean. . .you’ll marry me?”

  “Yes, Harry. Nothing would make me happier.”

  He smiled and whispered, “Thank you! Whatever it takes, Sadie, I’m sure we can make a go of it together.”

  “Are you certain you want to give up your dream in Kentucky?”

  “Yes. I have a new dream now, and you’re in the center of it.”

  He sat beside her on the settee once more and pulled her into his arms. Sadie thrilled at his touch. She closed her eyes as his lips met hers, losing herself in the dream of their future.

  Harry held her for a long moment, with her head nestled over his heart.

  “Praise the Lawd!”

  Sadie’s eyes flew open, and she sat straighter, pulling away from him as Tallie entered the room with Harry’s coffee cup on a tray.

  He laughed. “Thank you, Tallie. You can tell Zeke to be up bright and early, and we’ll get to work on the barn. I need to finish it quickly so I can get to Kentucky before the snow flies.”

  “I’ll do that, Mr. Harry, but. . .you are coming back, aren’t you? ’Cause iffen you’re not. . .” Tallie threw a meaningful glance at Sadie.

  “You don’t have to worry about your mistress,” Harry assured her. “Miss Sadie is going to become Mrs. Cooper as soon as I return from my trip to sell my farm in Kentucky.”

  “Glory, glory!” Tallie shouted. She set the tray down and bustled toward the kitchen.

  Sadie smiled at Harry. “You’d better relax and enjoy your coffee while you can. When Zeke hears the news, he’ll want to talk everything over with you and make plans.”

  “Zeke can wait.” Harry drew her into his arms again, ignoring his coffee.

  Epilogue

  May 1849

  Sadie held her hoops in and stepped carefully through her bedroom doorway into the hall. Dulcy followed, holding up the hem of her white satin skirt in the back. Elizabeth Thurber came toward them from the stairs.

  “Oh, Sadie, you look marvelous!”

  “So do you.” Sadie hugged Elizabeth then stood back to admire her friend’s frothy apricot gown. Tallie and Dulcy fussed about her.

  “Careful now, girl. You mussin’ up your bride’s dress.” Tallie arranged the folds of Sadie’s skirt while Dulcy smoothed the lacy veil.

  “Is everyone ready?” Sadie asked, a little breathless.

  “I’m ready, and the minister’s ready,” Elizabeth laughed, “but if you mean Harry, yes, he’s more than ready. Papa said he’s been pacing like a panther in a cage this last half hour.”

  Sadie smiled. Harry had returned from Kentucky three weeks ago and had made no secret of his anticipation of the wedding day.

  She and Elizabeth slowly descended the stairs. Mr. Thurber met them in the lower hall, outside the parlor door.

  “You look lovely, my dear,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you for standing in for Papa.”

  Mr. Thurber stooped and kissed Sadie’s cheek. “I’m honored. Oliver was a good man and a good friend.”

  Tallie lowered the veil over Sadie’s face then slipped away with Dulcy to squeeze into the far corner of the parlor with the rest of their family.

  Elizabeth kissed Sadie and went through the door. Sadie found herself gripping Mr. Thurber’s arm and stepping forward. The Thurbers, the Kauffmans, the Glassbrenners, and several other neighbors were packed into the room, and Zeke’s family beamed at her from the corners. Harry stood before the fireplace where large vases of apple blossoms graced the mantelpiece. Clara Glassbrenner played softly on her dulcimer. Everyone was smiling, but Sadie had eyes only for Harry. As she walked with Mr. Thurber between the rows of guests and drew closer to Harry, she could see love radiating from his eyes. She stood trembling as Pastor Richards welcomed the people, and Harry’s warm smile calmed her. At last she was able to place her hand in his and begin their new life together.

  About the Author

  SUSAN PAGE DAVIS and her husband, Jim, have been married thirty years and have six children, ages twelve to twenty-eight. They live in Maine, where they are active in an independent Baptist church. Susan is a homeschooling mother and news writer. She has published short stories in the romance, humor, and mystery fields. Her books include historical romance, mystery, and children’s fantasy.

  Dedication

  To our second daughter, Megan, an author in her own right, who is brave enough to critique her mom’s work. I can’t wait to see our joint byline!

  A note from the Author:

  I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:

  Susan Page Davis

  Author Relations

  PO Box 721

  Uhrichsville, OH 44683

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-60260-883-2

  Copyright © 2010 by Paige Winship Dooly. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  One

  Little Cumberland Island, Georgia, 1867

  “I know Papa’s coming back, Samson. Don’t try to tell me otherwise.”

  Hollan climbed to the
top of the largest sand dune with Samson following close at her side. As they neared the peak, he nudged past her and plopped onto the sand. She sank down beside him. Her stamina wasn’t keeping up with the rapid improvements in her vision. They’d searched for her father as far as she dared. With her eyesight coming and going, she was afraid to go too far. “We just need to find him, that’s all.”

  Samson released a small whine.

  “With Mama it was different. I knew she was gone. My heart knew. But this time, with Papa—” She stopped a moment and gave her next words some thought, then shrugged. “I don’t know. With him, it’s different. He’s out there somewhere. I’m sure of it. We just need to figure out where. It’s only been a day.”

  Samson lifted his furry head and raised an eyebrow.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you, boy?” She reached over and ruffled his tawny fur before settling on her back beside him.

  The cloudless blue sky overhead stretched in all directions. The gentle breeze blew in off the water, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean. Hollan inhaled deeply.

  Her vision had steadily improved during the past few months, going from nothing but blurred shapes, as it had been for most of the past three years, to dim but specific outlines of objects and people. She hadn’t told her father about the improvements, not wanting to get his hopes up if the experience was fleeting, but every day brought her more clarity.

  Until now. . . . This moment brought her colors and clarity and. . .

  “Samson!” She shot to an upright position and looked around.

  Samson raised his head and barked, alert for pending danger. When he didn’t see any, he looked at her in confusion.

  “I saw your eyebrow quirk! I can see you staring at me like I’ve finally lost my mind. I can see the sky and the water and—oh Samson! I can see it all!”

  The ocean-side view spread before them. Hollan could see every detail clearly: the sea oats, the waterline, the birds, a faraway boat on the horizon.

  “Samson, I can see the water.” Hollan held her breath, afraid that if she moved wrong or breathed too deeply the vivid scene in front of her would melt away. “Not only can I hear the waves, I can see them.”

  The sun played across the water, causing it to sparkle. A fin cut through the surface, though from this distance Hollan couldn’t tell if it belonged to a dolphin or a shark. The movement—straight up, then forward for a few feet, then straight down—more closely resembled that of a shark. Dolphins tended to move in arched patterns, rolling up over the surface and back down, and they usually appeared and disappeared over and over until they moved out of view. She longed to see a dolphin. It had been too long.

  Samson didn’t respond other than to stare. She leaned down and peered into his dark brown eyes. She hadn’t looked into a set of eyes in more than three years, and Samson’s doggy eyes were just beautiful. It was a perfect moment. Samson reacted to the direct contact by wagging his tail.

  “I know, Sam. This is a gift. It’s precious.”

  Her vision blurred, and she panicked, wiping quickly at her eyes. She stared down at her hands. Tears. She could see the crystal clear liquid on her fingers. Her vision wasn’t receding. The tears caused the blur.

  “If only I could see Papa, Sam.” She looked into her dog’s eyes again. “He’ll come home soon, right?”

  Samson laid his head on his paws and stared out over the water.

  Dark storm clouds appeared on the horizon.

  “The next storm is already on its way, boy. I guess we aren’t going to get a break in the weather for as long as I’d hoped.”

  Hollan wanted to savor the view, but she knew with her vision coming and going she needed to do some chores while she was still able.

  ❧

  “Maybe he’s not coming back.” Hollan whispered aloud the words her heart had wondered about for the past three days. Words she hadn’t wanted to voice because stating them might make them real. Each passing day caused her more concern. Her father had never left her, not even for a day, and there was no way he’d leave her now unless he had no choice. Had she lost him to the most recent violent storm? She’d lost her mother during a similar squall three years earlier. She pushed back her panic and forced herself to take a few deep breaths. Perhaps he’d only been hurt. But deep down she knew even if he’d been hurt, he would have found a way to get back to her. Just as he always had in the past.

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the thought, warding off the image of her injured father needing her when she was unable to find him. The reality that she’d kept pressed against the back of her mind insisted on forcing its way forward. If her father had been injured enough not to make it back, surely he wouldn’t be alive three days later. Their part of the island wasn’t that big.

  Hollan faced the ocean and listened to the harsh waves as they crashed against the sandy shore—the sound the last remnant of the most recent destructive storm. The beach would be scattered with debris—driftwood, seaweed, and other odds and ends that always washed ashore with the waves.

  But she wouldn’t know at the moment. Her vision had returned to its blurred state. She didn’t worry about it too much. It had reappeared with vivid crispness several times during the past couple of days. The clarity stayed longer and came with more frequency each time. She prayed her vision would return in full at some point, but she’d adapted to not seeing, too.

  She hadn’t spent much time with God lately. The realization caused a catch in her heart. Her prayers at the moment were rote, but she told herself she’d do better in the future. She’d spent most of her time during the past three years just existing. Her uncle had to be very disappointed. He’d told her as much, but in her newly blind state, she hadn’t really cared. And ever since, she’d drifted away from everyone except her father. And now he’d somehow drifted away from her. Maybe God was trying to get her attention.

  The briny scent of the sea and the taste of salt on her lips reassured her that not everything had changed. But without her father, Hollan’s small world would never be the same. Two facts prevailed and tried to drag her down into depression. Her vision had faded, and her father hadn’t returned. She fought hard to keep her positive outlook, but it all felt so confusing.

  While the familiar scents and sounds reassured, a tremor started at her leg and steadily worked its way through her stiff body. She wasn’t cold. The warmth of the early autumn sun beat down on her shoulders. She wrapped her arms tightly around her torso, as if the action could stop the shaking. She was afraid that if she let go, she’d fall into a million pieces.

  A bark in the distance announced Samson’s arrival. Hollan whistled for him, and he barked a response. A few moments later, he brushed up against her. His panting gave away the exertion of his latest hunt.

  “Still no sign of Papa, Sam?”

  The dog only whined and leaned against her thigh. If Samson had found his master, he’d have let Hollan know.

  “I didn’t think so, boy, but we’ll be fine. I still feel confident that Papa’s out there somewhere.” She reached down to rub his head. And they would be okay. Just as soon as she figured out a way to take over her father’s job as lightkeeper, her life would steady and move forward again.

  Hollan had no idea how long she stood there, staring sightlessly at the water, but when dark clouds covered the warmth of the sun, and dampness from the brisk ocean breeze permeated the light cotton of her long dress, the tremors turned to shivers of cold, and she urged Samson to move back toward their home.

  My home, she corrected herself, her steps slow and careful. Now that she was alone—and until her father returned—she was in desperate need of a plan. She passed through the shadow of the lighthouse and raised a hand to caress the cool stone of its base. The lighthouse had remained dark through the majority of the war. They’d only recently resumed operations. She’d need to go up there soon and ready things for the night’s work. Whenever her vision cleared, she hurried around and di
d everything necessary for the next few hours. She’d spent enough time in the lighthouse to do the basic chores even with her limited sight. When her vision dimmed, she was forced to let the lighthouse sit in darkness, too.

  But first she needed to prepare a missive for her uncle. She continued toward the cottage, counting backward through the past few days. The supply boat—if it had fared well through the storm—would arrive later that afternoon. When the young captain, Fletcher, found her alone, he’d surely insist on bringing her back to the mainland. She’d argue with him, and he’d agree to search the island for her father, but after, even if she talked him out of forcing her away, she’d only have a day’s worth of time to plan before her uncle descended.

  The abrupt pain of her bare foot stubbing against the lowest stone step of the cottage pulled her from her musings. She reached forward to catch her balance against the wooden door, barely preventing a headfirst tumble into the garden to her left. The pain was intense, and she clenched her teeth, blowing a few panting breaths through tight lips to ward off the ache before tentatively putting weight on the aching appendage. She’d likely bruised some toes, but they’d soon be fine as long as she was careful. Though her vision was steadily improving, she needed to pay more attention to her surroundings.

  A wry smile formed on her lips as she clung to the solidity of the door and hobbled up the final two steps. Hadn’t her father said the same thing to her many times before? The thought brought him closer. Perhaps he wasn’t so very far away. His words and teachings, especially the ones about Jesus and His unfailing presence lived on inside her. The thought brought her a moment of peace, but the reality of the reason for the thought again caused tears to threaten. She’d never before been alone. Though she was strong and resilient, she needed to have someone close by. Her father had taught her that with Jesus as her Savior, she’d never be truly alone. But while that was all good and well during his suppertime teachings, it didn’t really seem to help right now when she lived alone in darkness and needed to find her way.