The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

  “Really?” His eyes grew round. “You’re willing to come home? To face your uncle and all that would entail?”

  “I am.” She smiled up at him. “Because with you by my side, I know I can face anything.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then cupped her face with his hands and kissed her again. When they finally parted, he took her hand. “Julia, would you do me the honor of marrying me again—this time in a church? I want to pledge my life and my love to you before God.”

  Tears pressed against her lids. The first time they wed, she’d made sure it was more like a business arrangement than anything else. But this time, she was ready to say her vows and share her heart in a sacred place. She nodded. “I would love to.”

  He smiled, and the love that glowed in his eyes warmed her from the inside out. “Then I’ll speak to Reverend Burke tomorrow.”

  “We are gathered here today to witness Quinten and Julia restate their marriage vows before God.” Rev. Burke’s voice boomed out over the sanctuary of Holy Trinity Church.

  The minister had been more than pleased when asked to perform a church ceremony for them and had offered to christen baby Evelyn immediately afterward.

  What more perfect way to start their lives together?

  Though Quinn tried hard to focus on the man’s words, his mind kept wandering to every detail of his glowing bride before him. The profusion of pink and white flowers she held in front of her, the long lashes that swept her cheek when she looked down, and the fullness of her lips that trembled ever so slightly as she smiled. She’d never looked more beautiful than she did right now.

  “Quinten, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife? To live together after God’s ordinance in the Holy Estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others keep thee only unto her as long as you both shall live?”

  Quinn fought back the lump in his throat as he looked into Julia’s brown eyes. Every trial they had endured had led to this moment, culminating in this pledge of love. “I will.”

  “And Julia, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband? To live together after God’s ordinance in the Holy Estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others keep thee only unto him as long as you both shall live?”

  Julia smiled and nodded. “I will.”

  They gazed at each other, their promises vibrating in the air between them, so much more meaningful than before.

  Rev. Burke cleared his throat. “Do you have the ring?”

  Quinn took out the plain silver band from their first ceremony. He’d wanted to buy her something fancier, but Julia wouldn’t hear of it. “I love my ring,” she’d said firmly. “We can have it consecrated, but I don’t want another.”

  He handed the band to the minister.

  Rev. Burke quickly blessed it. “Place the ring on Julia’s finger and repeat after me: ‘With this ring, I thee wed and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’”

  Quinn slid the ring onto Julia’s finger, and in the hush of the sanctuary, repeated the solemn words, his promise now weighted by a new sacredness.

  Rev. Burke raised his head from the book. “With the saying of holy vows and the giving of a ring, I pronounce that Quinten and Julia are indeed husband and wife, both legally and in the eyes of God.” He paused to look out over the congregation. “Those whom God have joined together let no man put asunder.”

  Quinn’s chest filled with so much emotion he feared it would burst. He beamed down at Julia, who smiled through a veil of tears.

  The minster leaned forward and winked. “If you’d care to kiss your bride, I won’t object.”

  In keeping with the holiness of the moment, Quinn leaned in and gave her a firm but chaste kiss. He hesitated for a moment, his lips hovering near hers, then unable to resist, he pulled her in for a more substantial embrace that hinted at the passion simmering beneath the surface.

  A titter of amusement rippled among the guests. Julia’s cheeks were as rosy as her flowers when they parted, though she didn’t look at all scandalized.

  “If everyone would stay seated for another minute,” Rev. Burke announced, “we will now baptize the Aspinalls’ infant daughter.”

  Mrs. Chamberlain, who had been holding the baby during the ceremony, came forward to hand Julia their daughter. Dressed in a white knitted gown and bonnet, Evelyn slept peacefully, not stirring until the minister poured the water over her forehead.

  The simple beauty of the ceremony, dedicating their child to God, brought another rise of emotion to Quinn’s throat.

  Lord, thank you for entrusting this precious child to me. Help me to be the best father I can. And the best husband to Julia. May I never take them for granted.

  After the baptism, Rev. Burke invited everyone down to the basement for a reception that the church ladies had kindly provided.

  Quinn stood with Julia in the narthex, greeting each guest and thanking them for coming. At last, Rev. Burke brought up the rear, Mrs. Chamberlain by his side.

  Quinn shook his hand. “Thank you for doing this, Reverend. It meant a lot to have our marriage sanctioned by God.”

  “You’re most welcome, lad. I’m delighted that you and Julia have made this a permanent arrangement.”

  “You and me both, sir. An answer to my prayers to be sure.” Quinn bent and kissed Julia’s lips. Evelyn gurgled her approval.

  Then he lifted the baby from Julia’s arms, took his wife by the hand, and walked forward into their future.

  A future that looked brighter than any dream he could have imagined.

  Epilogue

  MARCH 30, 1920

  Seven weeks after Julia and Quinn’s wedding, everyone gathered in Holy Trinity Church once again for another happy union—the marriage of Reverend Geoffrey Burke and Harriet Chamberlain.

  The audience—a far larger one than had attended Quinn and Julia’s ceremony—applauded as Rev. and Mrs. Burke headed down the main aisle of the church. Dressed in a cream-colored suit with a matching netted hat, Mrs. C. beamed at her new husband as they passed their guests.

  Quinn put his arm around Julia and gave her a light squeeze. She looked up from the baby in her arms to bestow him with a brilliant smile, and he couldn’t resist kissing her. His heart thudded with joy as it did every time they embraced.

  Little Evelyn waved her plump fists. Coming up on four months old, her bright eyes taking in everything, she was the second greatest joy in his life, next only to her mother.

  Seated beside them in the pew, Jonathan and Emmaline wore matching grins. They had traveled all the way from England to attend the ceremony, a fact that had touched Mrs. Chamberlain deeply.

  “Mrs. C. looks so beautiful in that outfit,” Emma whispered. “And so incredibly happy.”

  Jonathan raised a brow at his fiancée. “Reverend Burke took long enough to declare his intentions. But better late than never, I always say.”

  Emma laughed. “That seems to be your motto in life, Jon. One I’m determined to change, by the way. I don’t plan on waiting much longer for our own wedding ceremony.”

  “I have to agree with you there, Miss Moore.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips as they rose to exit the aisle.

  Quinn chuckled, scarcely able to contain the happiness that swelled in his chest. In a matter of days, he, Julia, and the baby would be sailing back to England, in the company of Jonathan and Emma. Of the group of friends that had met nearly a year ago on the ship, only Grace had chosen to remain in Toronto. Quinn glanced across the aisle at Grace and her husband. Andrew held Christian on his lap, trying to thwart the lad’s attempt to escape. Grace glowed with good health, her belly now round with the baby they expected in another few months.

  Looking back, Quinn had to admire how far they had all come in a relatively short space of time. He, Grace, and
Emma had come to Canada, each with their own hopes and dreams for the future. And after enduring hardship and loss, they had all found their path.

  Surely the hand of God had been on their lives every step of the way.

  Even Mrs. Chamberlain and the good reverend had found joy of their own. Quinn marveled once again how God had used him and his siblings not only to heal Mrs. C.’s childhood wounds but to bring about a positive change to Dr. Barnardo’s organization. She and Rev. Burke now had a team of clergy in place to supervise the children more closely and ensure they would no longer fall victim to abuse.

  To Quinn’s surprise and delight, Julia had told him she wanted to do something similar to help the Barnardo children back in England and had asked Quinn to work with her on this new mission. Upon hearing this, his heart had swelled with admiration for his bride. Julia’s dedication to helping others was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with her in the first place, and he’d been only too happy to agree to help her with this cause, one near and dear to his family. He suspected his mother would be eager to join in her crusade as well.

  Now, as Quinn and Julia followed the congregation outside to greet the newly married couple, he stopped to pull his wife and daughter into a warm embrace. “Are you happy, Julia?”

  She smiled up at him. “I’ve never been happier. I can’t wait to start our new life in England.”

  He still couldn’t get over the fact that she was willing to come with him. “You realize the farmhouse is a far cry from the luxury you were used to at Brentwood. It will take time to fix it up the way you’d like.”

  “We have the rest of our lives to work on it.” She paused to give him a mischievous look. “Though you may want to get started on that extra room for the children.”

  “Why? Evelyn won’t need her own room for . . .” He paused as her words registered. “Did you say children?”

  “I did.” Her lips tipped up in a secret smile. “If my suspicions are correct, we’ll be adding to our family much sooner than we anticipated.”

  Quinn’s throat grew tight. Tears stung the back of his eyes. Too moved for words, he simply kissed her. “I love you, Julia. You have made me the happiest man in the world.”

  She reached one hand up to caress his cheek. “Let’s keep this news to ourselves for now. After all, it’s Mrs. C.’s day to shine.”

  “Right you are. Though it’s Mrs. Burke now.” He paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to calling her that.”

  Julia laughed and shifted Evelyn onto her other hip. Quinn put his arm around his wife. “Let’s go and celebrate with our friends.”

  As they walked toward the stairs, Quinn whispered a prayer of gratitude for the abundance of blessings they had received. He knew with absolute certainty that by keeping God at the forefront of their lives, all things were truly possible.

  And no matter what the future might hold for his family, they would weather it together, with love.

  A Note from the Author

  Dear Readers,

  When the subject of the British Home Children in Canada was suggested to me as a possible topic for a book, I confess I’d never heard of them. Not in all the time growing up in Ontario—where a large majority of these children were sent—and never in any of the educational studies I’d undertaken. So to find out about these children and the role they played in our country’s history was indeed surprising.

  I learned that from the late 1860s up until about 1948, over one hundred thousand children of all ages were sent from the United Kingdom to Canada to be used as indentured laborers, mostly on Canadian farms. There were many organizations involved in the migration of children out of England, but I chose to focus on the homes run by Dr. Thomas Barnardo.

  Of the one hundred thousand children sent to Canada, twenty thousand (some reports say thirty thousand) came from the Dr. Barnardo’s Homes. Although Dr. Barnardo’s organization was not the only one involved in this endeavor, he became the most influential figure in child migration of the last half of the nineteenth century.

  Though these children were believed to be orphans, only a small percentage actually fell into that category. The majority of children placed in homes such as Dr. Barnardo’s came from families that, through sickness or the death of one of the parents, had fallen on hard times. In many instances, this was thought to be a temporary measure until the family’s circumstances improved. Countless parents did not realize that their sons and daughters would be shipped off to another country.

  Once in Canada, the children were sent to various receiving homes across the country to be distributed to the farmers who were looking for help. Though the intentions of the people in charge were good, and they believed they would be providing these children with the opportunity for a better life, the reality did not measure up to the ideal. The majority of children were treated miserably by their employers and made to feel subhuman, as though they didn’t matter.

  Not surprisingly, as they grew into adulthood, most of these children never spoke about the topic because they were either too traumatized or too ashamed to relive it. In fact, often their own families had no idea of the difficult circumstances that had initially brought their loved ones to this country or the hardships they had endured.

  In Ontario, a lady named Lori Oschefski spearheaded a movement to unearth this chapter in both England and Canada’s past and shed light on these brave souls. Her own mother was one of these children and had kept it a secret until well into her eighties. Ms. Oschefski is the founder of the British Home Children Advocacy and Research Association. This organization has quickly moved to the forefront of the British Home Child awareness movement, not only in Canada but across the world. Ms. Oschefski is very active in communities across Ontario, bringing the story of the British Home Children to the public by giving many presentations on the subject.

  I did consult several times with Ms. Oschefski via her Facebook group, and I thank her and the other members who offered me suggestions and stories of their own relatives.

  I must confess that while I tried my best to be as factual as possible, I have taken some artistic license with a few of the situations that occur in the book. Although I used the actual name of the superintendent of the Barnardo receiving home at the time, a Mr. Hobday, I made up all interactions with this character, and he is strictly a fictional representation of the real Mr. Hobday. I also made up the cemetery and the rows of white crosses at the Hazelbrae receiving home in Peterborough. I believe the Hazelbrae girls were actually buried in a local cemetery; however, I thought it would be more dramatic to have a private burial ground on the property itself. I did try to find out the name of the person in charge of the home at the time of my story but was unable to come up with the information, so I created Mrs. Whitaker. Again, she is a purely fictional representation, who in no way reflects on any real directress who worked there. The actual Hazelbrae residence, renamed the Margaret Cox Home for Girls in 1912, closed in 1922 or 1923, and was completely torn down by 1939. Today, a black granite heritage plaque stands near the site with the names of the over nine thousand children who came through Hazelbrae and the dates they arrived.

  Any mistakes in my portrayal of the Aspinall children’s experience with the Dr. Barnardo organization are purely my own and do not in any way reflect on the research I’ve done in writing this book. I only hope that my story helps shed a little light on such a daunting subject.

  Interestingly enough, another wonderful Christian author named Carrie Turansky was writing about this topic at the same time I was. Her novel, entitled No Ocean Too Wide, came out in June 2019. It’s a wonderful book, and I recommend reading it to see how her fictional account handles the same subject matter.

  If you care to learn more about these children and their stories, please check out the British Home Children Facebook page for lots of great information: www.facebook.com/groups/Britishhomechildren/. I also recommend https://upsanddownsofhomechildren.wordpress
.com/about/ and https://canadianbritishhomechildren.weebly.com/.

  I hope you enjoyed Quinn’s quest to find his siblings and the romance he finds along the way.

  Blessings until the next time,

  Susan

  Acknowledgments

  This story was an important one to tell, and because of the weight of the subject matter, I did the most research I’ve ever done on a book to date. Thank you to Lori Oschefski, founder of the British Home Children Advocacy and Research Association, for all her efforts in bringing this issue to light and making the information available to the public.

  Many others helped bring this story to print:

  I’d like to thank my agent, Natasha Kern, for her support, her wisdom, and her kindness.

  Thank you to David Long and Jen Veilleux, my editors at Bethany House. Jen, your attention to detail amazes me! I know you do everything in your power to make my story the best it can be. And my thanks to the entire team at Bethany House, who work so hard to make our books shine.

  My heartfelt gratitude goes to my two amazing critique partners, Sally Bayless and Julie Jarnagin, who give such great advice.

  And, as always, thank you to my family for their love and encouragement.

  Thank you to my wonderful readers and influencers. I appreciate you all so much, especially those who take the time to let me know how my words have impacted them.

  Susan Anne Mason describes her writing style as “romance sprinkled with faith.” She loves incorporating inspirational messages of God’s unconditional love and forgiveness into her stories. Irish Meadows, her first historical romance, won the Fiction from the Heartland contest sponsored by the Mid-American Romance Authors chapter of RWA. Susan lives outside Toronto, Ontario, with her husband and two adult children. She loves red wine and chocolate, and is not partial to snow even though she’s Canadian. Learn more about Susan and her books at www.susanannemason.net.