by Debby Lee
Hearts Sewn with Love ©2019 by Darlene Panzera
Woven Hearts ©2019 by Jacquolyn McMurray
A Language of Love ©2019 by Kimberley Woodhouse
Tailored Sweethearts ©2019 by Debby Lee
Print ISBN 978-1-64352-276-0
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-64352-278-4
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-64352-277-7
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover Photo: Ildiko Neer / Trevillion Images
Published by Barbour Books, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., 1810
Barbour Drive, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.
Printed in Canada.
Table of Contents
Hearts Sewn with Love
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Woven Hearts
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
A Language of Love
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Tailored Sweethearts
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Dedication
With special thanks to Krysteen Seelen and Kate Breslin, for your friendship, generosity of time, and compassion. You are a true blessing to those around you.
Chapter 1
April 16, 1850
Maggie McDermott leaned over the rail of the 226-foot side-wheel paddle steamer, her pulse quickening as she surveyed the Sacramento port where they would soon dock. “Almost there, Mother,” she said, glancing at the beloved, gray-haired woman beside her. “’Tis a long journey we’ve had, but within the hour we will step off this boat and into our new home.”
“God willing,” Clara McDermott muttered, a touch of a smile upon her lips.
“Yes,” Maggie said, and drew in a deep breath. For she fully believed leaving New York City and journeying to Gold Bar, a small town outside Sacramento, must certainly be God’s will for their lives. Even if it meant she must marry Lewis Parnell, her late father’s second cousin, whom she barely knew.
“Surely,” her mother said hesitantly, “Cousin Lewis would have estimated the time of our ship’s arrival?”
Maggie glanced toward the shore where several finely dressed men had gathered to greet the passengers. “I am certain he will be here.”
It had taken their schooner, the Cordova, six and a half months to sail from Boston down around Cape Horn, the southernmost tip of South America, and then back up the other side of the continent to California. But they’d whisked through the mile-wide waterway known as the Golden Gate and into the San Francisco Bay on schedule. From there, they secured passage aboard the Senator, and it had only taken another six days for the paddle steamer to transport them upriver to Sacramento.
Maggie’s mother clasped the folds of her gray cape tighter about her neck as they followed the other passengers off the boat. “I don’t see him.”
“He must be up there by the buildings.” Maggie swept her gaze over the sparsely treed town perched on the hill. “And if he isn’t, we can at least find something to eat while we wait for him.”
Her mother nodded. “A good meal would be nice. I never want to eat another crust of moldy bread from the meager rationings of a ship ever again.”
“And you won’t have to,” Maggie reminded her. “Cousin Lewis assured us in his letter that we’ll be living in luxury.”
Her mother’s face took on a wistful expression. “In a big house along the river, with an expansive green lawn and terraced gardens.”
“And enough gold lining our pockets to make us richer than a leprechaun,” Maggie said, smiling.
“At the moment, enough money to buy a meat pie would suit me just fine.” Her mother’s weary eyes suddenly brightened. “Or a bowl of Irish stew with savory beef and potatoes and carrots—”
Maggie pointed to a sign on one of the wooden buildings labeled EATERY and asked, “Shall we?”
Leaving their trunks in the care of the ship’s porter, Maggie caught sight of the nine-year-old boy, Phillip Trescott, who had also sailed on the Cordova out of Boston then boarded the paddle steamer. He’d been unaccompanied, much to Maggie’s disapproval. And now he stood off to the side, alone, with an aloof expression Maggie suspected was merely a brave attempt to appear unafraid.
Maggie extended her hand. “Phillip, would you care to join us while you are waiting for your uncle to arrive?”
He gave her a vigorous nod. “I’d be honored, Maggie. Besides, you may need a chaperone.”
The boy’s polite, polished prose usually made her smile, but when she saw the clusters of men to whom he referred staring at her, she clamped her lips together tight and kept her head down as she ushered both him and her mother into the eatery.
Were there no other women in town? Maggie saw one, but she wore bright red feathers in her hair and a dress with a bodice cut too low to be called anything but indecent. The type of woman rumored to entertain men. The kind whom her mother had always warned her to stay away from so as not to tarnish her own reputation. Were there no other mothers, daughters, sisters, or even grandmothers of polite society to associate with, then?
Inside the eatery the eyes upon them only multiplied, until self-consciousness destroyed Maggie’s hunger and all she wanted was to escape.
“Excuse me, sir?” she asked the man behind the counter. “Do you know where I might find a carriage to take us to Gold Bar?”
His eyes widened as he looked her up and down then gave her a toothy grin. “A carriage? You won’t be findin’ any carriage around here, miss, not even with a pound of gold in your satchel.”
Maggie frowned. “How might one get to Gold Bar?”
“You might walk,” he suggested. “Or go by mule.”
“Did he just say mule?” Maggie’s mother asked, her eyes wide. “Surely he doesn’t expect a lady to sit her skirts upon one of those filthy animals!”
“I rode a horse once,” young Phillip boasted.
“Horses will cost you,” the man behind the counter told him.
Maggie’s mother gestured toward the chalkboa
rd on the wall. “Apparently, so will the food. Ten dollars for a dozen eggs? Whoever heard of such prices?”
Several men around them burst into laughter, and one shouted that he could buy her eight dozen eggs with the gold he found that morning. Maggie tried not to make eye contact with any of them. With her heart thumping in her ears, she leaned toward her mother and whispered, “Perhaps we should leave.”
“They can eat, because everyone here has money,” her mother said, her attention clearly fixated only on the food. “Or at least it seems they do, for all their boasting. Did you hear the young man in the corner bet the others a full ounce of gold he could win at cards? Do you think they’ve all found as much gold as Cousin Lewis?”
Maggie steered her mother away from them, took Phillip’s hand, and swallowed the lump forming in the back of her throat as the men’s leers continued to make her uncomfortable. “I think I saw a stand selling meat pies near the waterfront.”
However, as they turned around, their path was blocked when one of the men punched another man in front of them, calling him a cheat. The accused swaggered, knocking Maggie and her mother to the side, then lunged toward the first man to retaliate.
Maggie took the opportunity to tuck young Phillip safely into her side to keep him from harm, but several fists swung back and forth as a few other men joined in, and Maggie, her mother, and Phillip stood trapped right in the middle of them.
As another fist shot forward, Maggie winced, sure she was going to take the brunt of it, when at the last second a broad, dark-haired man, several inches taller than herself, stepped in the way and took the blow instead. The impact knocked him over and dropped him to the ground at her feet.
“Hey, watch out for the ladies,” her rescuer growled.
The one who had punched him raised his brows and exclaimed, “Ben, is that you?”
He nodded, rubbed his jaw, and picked himself up off the floor. “It’s me.”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” the other man replied, then let out a big-hearted laugh. “I was aimin’ for someone else.”
“No offense taken,” Ben told him. “But if you don’t mind, could you clear a path so I can escort these ladies and the young lad out?”
After his friend managed to push the other men away, the man named Ben turned, and Maggie acknowledged that despite the red welt upon the right side of his jaw he’d gallantly acquired for her sake, his facial features were quite handsome. He wore his wavy brown hair parted to the side, and although simply dressed in a beige shirt with brown trousers, the sparkle in his eyes made him appear far more dashing than the other men who flaunted their newfound wealth with their tall top hats, silk cravats, and fob watches.
Ben picked up the straw hat that had been knocked off his head during the fistfight, and she noticed that his dark brows and hazel-green eyes were startlingly similar to Phillip’s.
Once they were safely outside, Maggie asked “Are you by any chance young Master Trescott’s uncle?”
“I am,” Ben assured her, tousling the hair atop Phillip’s head. “He will be living with me now that his mother—my sister—and her husband are no longer with us.”
Maggie nodded. “Upon our first meeting at sea, Phillip and I discovered we have much in common. I lost my father too. Almost two years ago now.”
Ben frowned. “Are you not my nephew’s governess?”
Maggie shook her head. “No. My mother and I met Master Trescott while on board the Cordova, sailing out of Boston.” She pursed her lips then added, “He was alone.”
“Alone?” Ben stared at her, then the muscle along his jaw tightened as he looked down at Phillip. “Where is Miss Lang?”
Phillip shrugged. “She decided the trip might make her seasick.”
“I paid her a full year’s salary in advance to accompany you.”
Ben’s voice shook with what sounded like fury, as well as fear, which was understandable, considering the situation, and Maggie forgave him now she knew he had not consented to have the boy travel alone. Her thoughts were not so merciful, however, toward Miss Lang, whoever she was. Anyone with any decency at all would never have allowed such a thing!
“If I had known—” Ben continued solemnly, looking his nephew straight in the eye, “I would have come for you myself.”
Phillip lifted his chin. “I managed all right.”
“He did indeed,” Maggie said, her heart going out to them both as they looked warily at one another. “Master Trescott was honorable enough to keep my mother and me company for most of the trip, for which we are exceedingly grateful.”
“As am I.” Ben shot her a look of gratitude over the boy’s head then smiled. “And although you may know one another quite well by now, my nephew and I need some time to get reacquainted.” He glanced at Phillip, then turned back to Maggie, tipped the brim of his straw hat toward her, and added, “As do we. I’m Benjamin Freethy.”
“Miss Maggie McDermott,” she said, dipping into a slight curtsy. “And my mother, Mrs. McDermott.”
“We appreciate your help in the eatery,” Maggie’s mother said with a shudder. “This is no place for a lady.”
“No, it isn’t,” Ben agreed with a rueful grin. “Pardon my asking, but what are you doing here?”
“We’ve come to live with my cousin,” Maggie informed him. “However, when we stepped off the steamer, he was not there to greet us. He lives in Gold Bar.”
“He may have gotten delayed,” Ben assured her. “I’m also from Gold Bar. What is his name?”
“Lewis Parnell.”
Ben’s jovial expression dropped as soon as the name left her lips. Alarmed, Maggie glanced at her mother then asked, “Is there something wrong, Mr. Freethy?”
Ben clenched his jaw, as if hesitant to respond, then said, “I’m afraid he’s gone, Miss McDermott.”
Anxiety coursed up Maggie’s spine. “What do you mean, gone?”
Had Cousin Lewis picked up and left? Had he changed his mind about marrying her?
Ben heaved a sigh. “Lewis Parnell … is dead.”
After more than eight months of living in a land devoid of most females, especially decent single young ladies, Ben never imagined that when he finally found one, he’d have to be the bearer of bad news.
The women didn’t take it well. For several moments, Miss McDermott, the sweet young woman with the lilting, soft Irish accent and reddish-blond curls poking out from the sides of her floral bonnet, just stared at him. Then as his words sank in, her delicate pink lips parted, and she let out a small gasp. She looked as if she were about to reach for him but pivoted a half second later to catch her mother, who had started to faint.
“Is she going to be all right?” Phillip rushed forward to help the older woman stand.
“Perhaps if we can get her something to drink,” Miss McDermott said with worry lines creasing her forehead. “Our throats are parched, and we haven’t had anything to eat in quite some time. I fear this news, after we’ve traveled so very far, is just too much for her.”
Ben nodded. He imagined the news was too much for Miss McDermott to bear as well, but she seemed to be putting up a brave front, despite the helpless look lurking in her beautiful blue eyes. Disconcerted, he quickly moved toward the corner street vendor.
“Four beef pastries and a jug of water, please?” Ben drew a few coins from his pocket and put them on the vendor’s counter.
Hastily settling beside him, Maggie dug through her carpetbag. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Freethy, but you do not have to pay for ours.”
“Please, Miss McDermott,” Ben said, brushing his hand briefly against hers. “I insist.”
What was he doing? He had no time for intimacies of any kind. Not when he had the boy to raise, and certainly not until he’d panned enough gold to build the kind of life a woman deserved.
Perhaps empathy for the young woman and her mother made him reach out to her. Or, more truthfully, his own selfish desire. He hadn’t touched a woman’s hand, e
ven gloved, in a very long time. But whatever the reason, he couldn’t deny the pleasant jolt of awareness that jumped between them when he did.
Maggie blushed and averted her gaze, as any proper young lady would. Then as the vendor handed her one of the minced-meat pies, her appetite must have gotten the better of her reserve, because she greedily gobbled the food, as if ravished, as did his young nephew. The elder woman, Mrs. McDermott, hardly took more than two bites. She sat prim and proper on a bench amid her many layers of gray skirts, took a sip from the water jug, and looked about to cry.
“What will become of us?” she whispered.
“Seems to me, ma’am, the most practical solution would be to take another ship back home,” Ben offered.
“We can’t go back.” Maggie’s eyes widened, and her expression turned more than a little desperate. “After Father died, our finances dwindled, and we had to sell most everything we owned. Cousin Lewis sent money to book our passage, but we haven’t enough for a return trip.”
“You can’t stay here,” Ben warned. “This town isn’t fit for a decent woman.”
“Is there no other option?” Maggie asked, her voice grave.
He swallowed hard as his gaze locked with hers. “I suppose, if you wanted, I could take you to Gold Bar to collect your cousin’s things. He left some personal items for you with the postmaster, although I fear it isn’t much.”
“We must see what it is,” her mother insisted. “And pay our respects.”
Maggie nodded and looked at him with such hope his heart skipped a beat. “We’d gladly accept your assistance to journey onward to Gold Bar—if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“It isn’t too much trouble,” Ben said, his throat raspy as he forced out the words. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a little voice called him a fool. Although, for the life of him he couldn’t bring himself to take back the offer—or tear his gaze away from Miss McDermott’s beautiful fair-skinned face.
Besides, he was indebted to these women for looking after his nephew these last six and a half months. Taking them to Gold Bar was the least he could do.
“We would be happy to escort you, Maggie,” Phillip chimed in.
Ben raised his brows. “Shouldn’t you address her as Miss McDermott?”