6. How was the life of Christ displayed by the group’s interactions while lost at sea? How was God’s sovereignty expressed in the overall story?
7. What did you think of the group’s reaction when they found out Benjamin had thrown all the guns overboard?
8. Do you think Jonah proved himself as a physician? If so, when?
9. What do you think will happen next as the group turns their settlement into their new home?
10. Marian said that she believed one day Olivia and Gabe would end up together. Do you think they will?
Acknowledgements
Thank you, Marty, for your faithful love, for throwing a rope to me when I’m in the pit of creative endeavor, for listening to my doubts and calming my fears, and for rejoicing with me when it’s time to rejoice. Thank you for consistently reminding me it is always time to rejoice.
Thank you, Rachel, for your kind heart, your patient grace, and your helpful hands. You are a bright, dancing, laughing, karate-chopping light in my life. Thank you for the little notes, the big dreams, and the handmade bookmarks.
I’m ever grateful to my parents, Rod and Pam Heckman, to whom I dedicated this book. Thank you for encouraging my writing since my books were published in crayon. Thank you for the pep talks, for praying for me, and for reading every story I write.
Thank you Annalise, Amber, and Karen for reading early versions of this book and still loving me. Thank you, Christina Yother, for your in-depth critiques and for the encouragement and laughter in between swapping chapters. Thank you, Megan Easley-Walsh, for giving this book your expert opinion. Thank you, Rae Chang, for your help with nailing the description.
Finally, and most importantly, thank you, Lord Almighty, for giving me the desire and ability to write in the quiet moments between serving the family and church you have given me. Thank You for the freedom, education, and privilege to write from my faith in You. I strive to create story and characters to imitate You, my Creator God, and I pray You are pleased with Your child’s creation. Thank You for writing my story in Your book before I lived a day of it. I trust You to guide me with Your counsel and afterward receive me to glory.
Above Rubies
Keely Brooke Keith
Edenbrooke Press
Above Rubies
Copyright 2017 Keely Brooke Keith
Published by Edenbrooke Press
Nashville, Tennessee
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. For inquiries and information, please contact the publisher at: [email protected]
All scriptures quoted from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, names, events are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any likeness to any events, locations, or persons, alive or otherwise, is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover Designed by Najla Qamber Designs
Interior Design by Edenbrooke Press
For my faithful readers. Thank you for taking these journeys with me!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
The settlement of Good Springs
Autumn, 1863
Chapter One
Olivia Owens shook a patchwork quilt open with a snap, rustling a flurry of white skippers from their clover flower feasts. She knelt on the blanket’s soft center and spread its corners flat over the grass near the settlement’s new church building. Indigo embroidery spelled out the names of her parents and siblings on the quilt’s yellow trim. Often, she was able to read the cross-stitched letters, but not now. The letters spelled words and the words had meaning. She could stare as long as she liked when this happened, but words would not appear. The monster hid them from her, and she hid the monster from everyone else.
An hourglass shaped shadow moved over Olivia’s picnic blanket. Peggy Cotter hovered regally above, wearing perfectly polished boots, crinoline puffed skirts, and honey-hued ringlets shaded by a matching parasol. She smiled at Olivia, and dimples pitted her porcelain cheeks. “You won’t believe what I just heard from Frances!”
Olivia squinted from the sun glaring over Peggy’s parasol. “Do I want to?”
“Gabriel McIntosh kissed Cecelia Foster.”
No, she didn’t want to hear that. “Good for her,” Olivia mumbled.
“I should think not! Gabe is such a cad. Haven’t I told you?”
“Many times. Perhaps you should tell Cecelia.”
“No, she will discover it for herself soon enough.” Peggy flicked a lace-covered wrist and giggled. “And then there will be a scandal.”
Olivia glanced at the church families, who were preparing for the picnic. They were trying to build a Christ-honoring community here. She sent Peggy a pleading look. “Don’t spend the afternoon spreading gossip.”
“Fine. You might not care what happens in this settlement, but I do.” Peggy’s skirts swished and crinkled as she walked away with tiny, rapid steps. She slithered across the grass and wedged her fashion plate figure close to her mother. Peggy whispered to her mother and pointed at Cecelia.
No sooner had Olivia looked away and Gabriel McIntosh strutted past her quilt, holding a hammer. Perhaps it had permanently fused to his palm after two years of building in the settlement. His broad-shouldered frame blocked the autumn sunlight as he turned back to her. “That’s a big blanket for a girl with no food. Where is the famous Owens family feast this week?”
He almost got a smile out of her. She quelled it in time and resumed smoothing the blanket. “Walter and Alice went with my mother to get the food from our house after the service ended. They should be back soon.”
“You must have drawn the long straw today.” He grinned, deepening the smile lines on his clean-shaven face. Her mother was right: a handsome man shouldn’t be trusted.
“If getting up before dawn to start cooking is the more desirable task, then yes I suppose I did.”
Gabe stepped closer. His work-worn boots crunched fallen leaves. “You braided your hair differently.”
“No, I didn’t.” She reached for the braid that had fallen to the front of her pearl-buttoned jacket. He was right. “Oh, I had forgotten.”
“I like it.” He’d shed the waistcoat and cravat he had worn over his starched blue shirt to the morning service. Now he’d cuffed his sleeves, ready to fix something for someone. He pointed at the blanket with his hammer. “Do you need help with that?”
She raised an eyebrow at his tool and chuckled. “Are you offering to nail my quilt to the ground?”
“No.” He laughed with a robust happiness that drew the attention of the others at the after-church gathering. Women paused emptying picnic baskets, and men ceased their masculine conferring long enough to stare.
Olivia cringed. One little joke had escaped her lips, and now she would be the topic of hushed gossip all afternoon. That seemed to be all the parents in the settlement spoke of during social
gatherings—which young person would marry whom and when. She hated hearing her name mentioned in those conversations, especially in connection with a cad like Gabriel McIntosh.
Gabe didn’t take his eyes off her. That must be the same look he had given Cecelia Foster before he kissed her. She tucked her chin, wishing he would move along. Wasn’t it enough that his jocularity had made a spectacle? Did he have to pretend to like looking at her too? If he caught a glimpse of Peggy Cotter, it would certainly divert his attention.
A dozen children, dressed in their Sunday best, were playing on the front steps of the newly dedicated chapel. The wooden heels of their leather lace-up boots clicked on the stone stairs. The girls twirled in their printed cotton dresses with their white stockings gleaming in the sunlight. Two of the boys started swinging from the wooden railing at the top of the steps, and soon all of the boys clamored for a chance to swing from it too.
Tomorrow morning they would be Olivia’s first class of students. She cupped her hands around her mouth so her voice would carry across the churchyard. “Please don’t play on the railing, boys.”
The children continued playing while singing improvised rhymes about pioneers clearing land and digging wells. The boys took turns hanging from the rails, dirtying their trousers more each time they dropped to the ground.
Gabe smirked at Olivia. “They aren’t going to obey you with that cheery tone. You will have to speak with authority if you want them to listen.”
She took his unsolicited advice and affected her voice with firmness but aimed it at him instead. “Don’t you have some hammering to do?” Without waiting for his response, she stood, looked at the children, and tried again. “No hanging from the railing!”
One of the boys lost his grip and tumbled to the ground. He sprang to his feet and popped his suspenders, laughing. Within seconds, the children resumed their rail swinging.
Gabe’s mocking gaze inflamed Olivia’s threadbare pride. She pretended to ignore him. Finally, he walked to the chapel. He spoke to the children as he passed them on the steps. His words were lost in the wind before they could reach Olivia’s ears, but the children immediately dispersed. He glanced back at Olivia and winked before he disappeared into the chapel.
She wished she could follow him inside. He was nice to talk to when he wasn’t trying to impress her or flirt. Both rankled, but flirtation only led to disappointment.
Olivia’s mother and two of her five siblings trudged across the sandy road to the churchyard, carrying pots of food. Olivia left the quilt to help them. She took one of the pots and followed her mother back to their picnic blanket. Mrs. Mary Owens halted her shiny church shoes at the edge of the quilt in front of the indigo stitches, which now clearly spelled out The Owens Family.
Oh good, the monster was gone.
Mary heaved a breath through thin lips as she lowered a steaming pot to the ground. Alice plunked the basket of bread onto the blanket and started scanning the crowd for the other thirteen-year-olds. Walter towered behind their mother with an armload of tin dishes, awaiting instruction.
Mary tossed the potholders to the quilt and glowered at Walter. “Next time, you carry the meat pot.” Her stern voice hadn’t lost its sharpness, even after a morning spent in church. “If you want your father and me to treat you like a grown man, then behave like one.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Walter lowered the dishes to the blanket. The instant his hands were empty, he strode to a group of men near the chapel. Their father greeted Walter with a vigorous pat on the back.
“Sixteen,” Mary huffed to no one in particular. “Thinks he knows everything. All he knows is how to crack rocks,” she motioned to the meat pot, “and how to hunt with a bow.”
“Walter has kept fresh meat on the table since we came to this land.” Olivia unwrapped the bread loaf in the basket. “And Father says he will be a fine mason someday.”
Mary dismissed the positive words with a toss of her wrist. “If you’d been a boy, it would be you learning your father’s trade.”
“Then I’m especially thankful to God He made me how I am.” Except for the word blindness that crept in unpredictably, but she kept that to herself. “All I want to do is teach school.”
“Sometimes I wish all six of you children had been boys.” Mary uncovered a dish of baked potatoes and continued unabated. “Maybe then your father would have enough stonecraft workers to be content.”
There was no pleasing a frustrated parent. Olivia sighed as she shooed a fly from their food. “You have worked so hard here. We all have, and finally we are seeing the fruit of our labor. The settlement feels more like a real town every day.
“Never mind all of that. I’m not sure what has come over me.” Mary rubbed her long neck and stared at the chapel, glassy-eyed. “Before we left America, I enjoyed teaching. But after two years of building and tilling and harvesting… I’ve lost my verve, especially the energy needed to capture a class’s attention. At twenty, you possess it in abundance.”
“And tomorrow morning, I’ll have a classroom of children eager to learn.”
“Let’s hope they are eager to learn,” Mary smiled, “for your sake.”
For a moment Olivia thought she saw the old spark of joy behind her mother’s eyes, but it left as quickly as it came. She longed to see it again.
The group of men disbanded, and Walter and their father walked toward the picnic blanket. Olivia’s other siblings ran to join them.
Mary glanced at the food and spread her hands. “No milk?”
Olivia shook her head, and a clump of dark hair dropped in front of her eye. It blackened part of her vision. She tucked it into her long braid. “Our cow was dry again this morning. We only have one bottle left in the cold box in the creek. If she doesn’t produce tomorrow, there won’t be enough for the girls and Richie.”
Mary raised her eyebrows as Olivia’s young siblings crowded the picnic blanket. She whispered, “There is nothing wrong with the cow. Someone must be milking her at night.”
“What?” Olivia began to question, but stopped when her mother shot her a look. She would have to wait until they were alone again to find out why her mother would toss out such an accusation. No one in this community would steal. Maybe someone’s calf was getting loose. Yes, that must be what she meant.
Alice glanced between them with unconcealed suspicion, so Olivia tried to distract her sister. She gripped the lid of the meat pot with a potholder. “The roast turned out nicely, did it not?”
As she lifted the lid, the scent of venison and onions rose with the steam. It mixed with the briny breeze coming from the nearby ocean. She inhaled these scents of home and cast her gaze about the settlement of Good Springs.
Reverend Colburn called the group’s attention and said the blessing for their meal. His dignified voice projected across the churchyard. Children swarmed the food and filled their plates. Older girls cut meat for their younger siblings, and mothers fed their babies. Chatter carried from one blanket to the next as the settlers relaxed into their afternoon of fellowship. It would be the last after-church picnic until spring.
Once the dessert plates were emptied, youngsters gathered beneath a nearby gray leaf tree to toss horseshoes while adults mingled and children played. Olivia relaxed in the autumn sun’s fleeting warmth and stretched her legs along the withering grass.
Across from her, Mrs. Susanna Vestal trailed her eighteen-month-old twins as they toddled through the churchyard. The eldest of the Vestal children, Hannah, usually watched the girls, but she’d just stepped into the outhouse behind the chapel. The twin girls’ blond ringlets bounced when they suddenly darted in different directions. One girl chased a dog toward the grove as the other girl ran toward the horseshoe game.
Panic flashed across their mother’s exhausted face. Susanna followed one twin toward the grove, so Olivia jumped to her feet and dashed to catch the other girl. A horseshoe flew through the air inches from the toddler’s head. Olivia hoisted the little
girl from the ground. Iron clanked against iron as the horseshoe hit a stake. She plunked the oblivious child onto her hip and wagged a finger. “No running into horseshoes games, young lady.”
Her scold was not understood. She held the tiny girl close, thankful the horseshoe hadn’t hit her. The toddler arched her back, wanting down. Olivia tickled her protruding belly. “Until you learn to watch where you’re going, I will have to watch out for you, won’t I?”
The girl giggled and arched again.
“No, I’m not falling for that game, either.” Olivia laughed and carried her across the grass.
Susanna’s shoulders hunched as she wrangled the youngest of her brood toward her family’s blanket. If anyone needed a relaxing afternoon, it was Susanna Vestal. She blew a strand of sweaty hair off her pale forehead. “Thank you, Olivia. These girls are bent on wearing out their old mother.”
Black circles framed Susanna’s eyes and had since the twins’ harrowing birth, but she wasn’t old. Christopher Vestal was in his forties, but Susanna had recently turned thirty-four. Lately, she looked older than the other mothers, even though she was one of the youngest. Perhaps prolonged exhaustion aged a person.
Susanna waved a willowy arm at Mr. Vestal, who was near the road, conversing with other men. “Christopher!” she called out and caught his attention. Both of the twins ran for him, arms outstretched. Susanna sighed and followed the twins to their smiling father.
Mr. Vestal scooped up both girls, one in each arm. Displays of a strong father’s affection rarely stirred Olivia, but when they did, a surge of primal desire for a future that could not be left her discontent.
As the Vestals walked away, Olivia stared longer than she intended. They had something she never would, but it shouldn’t matter because she didn’t want it anyway. At least not like that—six children and tired eyes.
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