Where the Heart Is Romance Collection: Love Is a Journey in Nine Historical Novellas
448
Where the Heart Is Romance Collection: Love Is a Journey in Nine Historical Novellas
448eBook
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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781634098281 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Barbour Publishing, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 04/01/2016 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 448 |
| Sales rank: | 463,356 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
About the Author
Meanwhile, Andrea continues to write. Her latest novels include Give Me Thine Heart, Love’s Guiding Light (Steeple View Publishing), both historical, and a contemporary novel, Her Hometown Heart (Pelican Book Group). In 2019, the long-awaited third installment in her Shenandoah Valley Saga will release.
For more information and to sign up for her newsletter, visit her website at andreaboeshaar.com. Find Andrea on Facebook: @Andrea.Boeshaar and follow Andrea on Twitter: @AndreaBoeshaar.
Rhonda Gibson lives in New Mexico with her husband, James. She has two children and three beautiful grandchildren. Reading is something she has enjoyed her whole life, and writing stemmed from that love. When she isn't writing or reading, she enjoys gardening, card making, and playing with her dog, Sheba. She speaks at conferences and local writing groups. You can visit her at her website or blog, where she enjoys chatting with readers and friends online. Rhonda hopes her writing will entertain, encourage, and bring others closer to God.
Sally considers it a joy to know that the Lord can touch other hearts through her stories. She has written both historical and contemporary novels, including a co-authored series for Tyndale House and another for Barbour Publishing, nine Heartsong Romances, and twelve Barbour novellas. Her favorite pastimes include quilting for her church’s Prayer Quilt Ministry and scrapbooking. She makes her home in the beautiful Tehachapi Mountains of southern California with her husband of over fifty years and enjoys being a grandma and great-grandma.
Pamela Tracy started writing at a very young age (a series of romances, all with David Cassidy as the hero. Sometimes Bobby Sherman would interfere). Then, while earning a BA in Journalism at Texas Tech University in Lubbock, Texas, she picked up the pen again (only this time, it was an electric typewriter on which she wrote a very bad fiction novel). First published in 1999 by Barbour Publishing, she is a USA Today bestselling author who has published more than thirty-five books in multiple sweet, inspiration, and devotional genres. She’s a Carol Award winner (from American Christian Fictions Writers) as well as Rita finalist (from Romance Writers of America).
Erica Vetsch is a transplanted Kansan now residing in Minnesota. She loves books and history, and is blessed to be able to combine the two by writing historical romances. Whenever she’s not following flights of fancy in her fictional world, she’s the company bookkeeper for the family lumber business, mother of two, an avid museum patron, and wife to a man who is her total opposite and soul mate. Erica loves to hear from readers. You can sign up for her quarterly newsletter at www.ericavetsch.com
You can email her at ericavetsch@gmail.com or contact her on her author Facebook page.
Read an Excerpt
Where the Heart Is
Romance Collection
By Erica Vetsch, Andrea Boeshaar, Carol Cox, Rhonda Gibson, Sally Laity, Jane LaMunyon, Claire Sanders, Pamela Kaye Tracy
Barbour Publishing, Inc
Copyright © 2012 Erica VetschAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-63409-828-1
CHAPTER 1
Pennsylvania, 1860
Leah Somerville paused in taking down the wash and breathed deeply of the moist, late winter breeze. Above her head, huge clouds scudded across the heavens, their pristine puffs of white a stark contrast against the cerulean blue sky. And all around, rivulets of water trickled from leftover mounds of dull snow, forming puddles while more and more patches of winter-barren ground appeared beneath the March sunlight. Proof of spring's imminence.
She smiled at the fresh scent of the sheets as she folded and put them into the basket. They'd be crisp and clean on Daddy's bed tomorrow, just the way he liked them. Not that anything was really the way Daddy liked anymore, since a massive stroke left him paralyzed on one side and hardly able to speak. Purposely turning her thoughts away from the unpleasant matter, Leah tucked the last clothespin into her coat pocket and bent to pick up the laundry.
The back door banged open just then, and her lanky, dark-haired younger brother, Willis, burst out, leaping down the three porch steps and bounding toward her, his work boots thudding over the half-frozen ground. "It's mine!" The obvious excitement that made his voice crack added a spark to the chestnut-brown eyes so prominent in the Somerville family.
"What's yours?" she had to ask.
"This. Everything. Mom says it's my place now." He flung his muscled arms wide and spun in a circle, not even attempting to harness his joy.
"Wait a minute, Will." Leah set down her burden to brush aside a pesky strand of sable hair the wind feathered across her face. "What are you talking about?"
He grinned, and a broad sweep of even white teeth added boyish charm to features growing more manly and appealing by the day. "Mom says the place is too big for her to manage, now that Dad's confined to his bed. She wants me to get married and take over. I'm gonna go tell Marty we don't have to wait any longer."
With that, he whirled around and took off down the muddy lane toward the road, his long legs quickly covering the mile-and-a-half distance to the Sands' farm.
Gaping after him, Leah reminded herself to close her mouth as a heaviness settled over her spirit. Laurelwood, Will's already? He was the only son, and inside she'd always known the property would pass to him one day. But he was still just a kid. He wouldn't be eighteen for three more months. At twenty-two, and almost five years older than he, Leah had worked longer and harder than either of her two younger siblings to help make the orchards profitable. Somehow she'd hoped Will wouldn't want the place, that her parents would decide she'd earned it. How could she have been so stupid? So naive?
She turned and let her gaze roam the large, homey house her paternal grandfather had built for his bride — two stories of white clapboard with the broad front porch and weathered roof, set in the lush green Back Mountain area of northeastern Pennsylvania, in Huntsville. Leah, twenty-year-old Nancy, and Willis had all been born here, as had their father before them. She couldn't even imagine living anywhere else. But soon her kid brother would marry her own very best friend, Martha Sands, and the two would raise a new brood of little ones who would grow up roaming the rolling hills around the Somerville Orchards. She knew she should have seen this coming, but she hadn't. Not even after Nancy married last summer and moved into town with her schoolteacher husband, Tim Grogan. Now it hurt to dwell on her own inevitable departure. With a sigh, she retrieved the laundry basket and trudged back into the house.
Her mother, Alice, turned from the big coal stove, where she'd been boiling water to brew Daddy's afternoon tea. One hand rested on her hip, and she stretched that shoulder, as if to relieve a kink. "They've dried already?"
Leah nodded and hung her coat on the rack of wall pegs just inside the door. "It's really quite mild today. I can smell spring in the air."
"Wouldn't that be a treat, an early spring. These old bones never ache so much once winter is finally over."
"You're not old, Mom," Leah chided, assessing her mother's trim frame and straight posture in the maroon calico day gown and protective apron. Except for the hours she spent lately sitting with Daddy, she never seemed to stop fussing about the house, keeping it tidy or baking things to satisfy the appetites of her hungry family. "Your hair might be a touch gray, but you're still strong and healthy. Why, there aren't half as many wrinkles in your face as there are in Opal Spalding's, and she's the same age as you."
"That may very well be," she said with a droll smile, tucking some loose hairs into the salt-and-pepper bun at her neck, "but I don't feel much like a young filly anymore. We all considered your dad hale and hearty, too, but look what happened to him. Struck down in his prime — and scarcely two years older than I. It gives a person pause for thought."
"I suppose."
Her mother's sparse brows drew into a frown, revealing new lines of strain around her azure eyes — the only different-colored ones in the family. "Is something troubling you, daughter?"
Debating whether to confess her disappointment, Leah opted not to. She shook her head. Will's announcement had been so recent and unexpected, she needed time to think about things. Time to pray. Even to start planning for a future elsewhere. Obviously their parents thought they were doing the right thing.
But was it the best thing? Leah knew Will and his shortcomings better than anybody, except perhaps Martha Sands. Undoubtedly the prettiest young woman within a ten-mile radius, Marty could have had her pick of any eligible bachelor, until Willis set his cap for her and turned on the charm.
Oh well, Leah told herself as she gathered a stack of linens to put away in the hall closet. Will could do worse than wed Marty. The girl's few years' advantage in age and maturity would help settle him down. It would be a good match. And to her credit, she did love Laurelwood.
"Come have tea with us, dear," her mother said in passing as Leah placed the clean sheets and towels neatly in their spots on the shelves. "I've an extra cup here."
"Sounds lovely. I'll be right there."
Moments later, she joined her parents in the sickroom. The master bedroom hadn't had that qualification for years, not since Grandmother Somerville's final lingering illness. Now despite the pretty floral wallpaper, the hand-stitched quilt, and other needlework accessories that always gave it such a welcoming air, it had that same stuffy odor again, all closed up from winter. Leah softly approached the walnut four-poster and gave her father a thin smile. "Daddy."
Graham Somerville's dark eyes glistened in recognition, and he attempted as much of a smile as he could manage from his propped-up position on half a dozen pillows. His pallor was nearly the same hue as his thinning gray hair. And he appeared so frail now, so ... small.
Sitting on the bed next to him, Mother offered him spoonfuls of tea. "He's looking better, don't you think?" she asked a little too brightly. "Any day now he'll be jumping up and dancing a jig, wait and see."
"You do look well, Daddy," Leah said dutifully, turning to pour herself a cup of the hot brew and moving to the window. "It's lovely outside today. Like spring, almost. The orchards will soon be filled with apple blossoms." But even as she passed along the cheerful news, she sensed that his recovery, if the Lord so willed, would be a long, hard one. Doc Fredericks was skeptical there would be much improvement.
Mother glanced her way. "I suppose Will told you his big news."
"Yes, just before I came inside. He certainly seemed thrilled." To say the least. Unlike me, he was smart enough to have expected it. It was all Leah could do to suppress her innermost feelings. Switching her attention to the lace curtain panels, she gazed through them as she sipped some of her drink.
"Well, actually," Mother went on, "your father and I discussed the idea some time ago. Of course, we were thinking of the future, but that's of no consequence. It's time Will took on more responsibility. And getting married goes a long way in bringing about that end. Martha will make a fine wife. She's been practically a fixture around here since you girls were in pigtails making mud pies for your dolls."
"She'll feel right at home," Leah said, surprised that she'd spoken aloud. "Well, no doubt Willis will be bringing her back with him for supper. I'd best see about starting the meal. Keep resting, Daddy. Get strong." Setting her empty cup on the tray, she smiled at her mother and left the room.
As she expected, Willis had Marty by the hand when he came home. The pair disposed of their coats, slipped off their boots at the boot tray, then padded into the kitchen.
"Well, Sis, here she is," Will said proudly. "My soon-to-be bride." He drew out a chair and seated her. "Think I'll go tell Mom and Dad the good news. Be right back." And like that, he was gone, his cheery whistle indicating his progress up the stairs.
"Were you shocked?" Martha asked in the sudden quiet, her heart-shaped face serious as she met Leah's gaze.
"A little." Leah rinsed the potato she'd been peeling and quartered it before adding it to the stew simmering in the big pot. "Not that you're marrying my brother, but that it's going to be so soon."
Marty toyed with a strand of fair hair, a wistful expression making her dainty features all the more beautiful. "Well, I certainly was surprised. I'm still reeling from the fact that I love Willis in the first place. Especially since you and I vowed neither of us would marry until we were at least thirty."
"Perhaps we thought nothing would change as long as we didn't take that step," Leah replied. "Funny, the things one believes when it seems life will last forever." She dried her hands on her apron and eased herself down onto the seat across from Martha. "But you'll be good for Will. You've always been able to curb that reckless streak in him. He acts older when you're around."
"Thanks. I think." A dry smile curved her lips. "You make it sound as if I'm robbing the cradle."
"You know what I mean. You bring out my brother's best qualities. You always have, really. Even when he was a lad, sneaking up on us to toss a frog down our pinafores. One smile from you, and he would forget the mischief and all but sprout a halo."
Marty sputtered into a giggle, and Leah joined in.
"What's all this about mischief?" her brother's voice interrupted as he strode into the room. "A fellow leaves for one minute, and suddenly there's secrets being bandied about behind his back." With an adoring grin, he slid into the chair beside his fiancée's and clasped her fingers in his.
"Oh, nothing, sweetheart," she answered coyly. "Just girl talk. You needn't be concerned about it."
"All I'm concerned about is supper. When's it gonna be done?"
"Hold your horses, little brother," Leah chided. "Everything's cooking. Soon as my best friend and I set the table, it'll be nearly finished." She eyed him keenly. "So when is the big day to be, anyway?"
He and Marty exchanged heart-stopping smiles. "We're going to try for the end of April," she answered breathlessly.
But that's only a month away! Leah almost blurted out. Instead, she drew a slow breath and quieted her voice. "Will that give you enough time to arrange everything?"
"What's to arrange?" Her brother flicked a crumb from the tablecloth with his fingernail. "All we need's a preacher and a church."
"And a gown, flowers, relatives and friends, and food to feed them," Martha added. She gazed up at Leah. "You will help with my gown, won't you? You're so good at beading. We'll work on yours, too, of course."
"Wouldn't miss it," Leah said. "We'll make the most special bridal dress the world has ever seen."
"Women!" Will said in derision. "If it were up to you to run the world, everything would have to be a big production."
She and Martha traded pitying glances. "You know getting married is an important step in a girl's life," Leah reminded him. "It should be a day she'll always look back on with joy."
A rosy flush crested the honey blond's fine cheekbones. "I can't believe this is happening already," she said softly. "Everything's suddenly being set into motion."
"Which brings us back to the subject of your gown," Leah said, reaching over the table to pat her friend's hand. "Maybe tomorrow we can impose on my handsome brother to drive us into town so we can choose the fabrics we'll need. Satin or taffeta or silk, perhaps. What color would you like me to wear, Marty?"
"I hadn't even thought about it yet. Let's wait until we see what's available."
"Speaking of available, Sis," Will cut in, "isn't it about time you start thinking of encouraging some of the interested males at church who've been after me to put in a good word for them? Or are you planning on staying here forever? We could use a good cook and washerwoman, I guess. It would give the two of us more time for ... other more enjoyable pastimes." He jabbed Marty in the ribs, and she turned beet red.
Leah didn't dignify his remark with a response. She merely got up to check on the stew and found it ready to eat. "Mind helping set the table?" she asked Martha. "And Will, go tell Mother supper's ready."
"Sure, sure. What I need is one more female here to keep me in my place," he said with a good-natured grin. But he sprang to his feet and did as bidden.
"That was ungallant of him," Martha commented, taking bowls out of the cupboard. "Suggesting you'll be in the way here. I hope you don't feel that to be true." She crossed to the table and set them out before going back for silverware.
Leah gave a silent huff. "Oh, he's just being the tactless brother, as always. But I've no intention of remaining underfoot around here after you two marry."
Marty paused, cup in hand, and looked up. "But where would you go?"
With a shrug, Leah unwrapped a loaf of bread and sliced several generous hunks, then stacked them on a small plate. She brought them to the table, along with salt and pepper shakers. "I haven't decided that yet. But there's really no point in my staying here, is there? Think about it. You and Will deserve a chance to start your life together without the interference of an older sister. An old maid one, at that," she added with a smirk.
"You wouldn't be an old maid for long," Marty said gently, "if you'd show Curtis Randall or Steve Henderson the slightest encouragement. You could be mistress of your own home then."
Leah turned. "Couldn't you just picture me married to Curt and those pigs of his? Hmph. And Steve. Now there's a prize catch for you. I'd have to put up with Mother Henderson always elaborating on my deficiencies and how much better a wife Marietta Perkins would have been, if she hadn't up and run away with that railroad conductor." Her voice gentled. "Besides, the only man I ever really wanted chose someone else, if you recall."
But her friend wasn't easily put off. "Well, there are other eligible males in the area, you know. And as far as I'm concerned, you don't have any deficiencies. You're the dearest, kindest, sweetest —"
"Talkin' about me again, are you?" Willis said teasingly as he reentered the kitchen. "I do like to hear my gal talk about me that way." Coming up behind his fiancée, he slid his arms around her slim waist and nuzzled her earlobe.
Leah was in no mood to watch the display of affection. With a pained grimace, she presented her back and went to bring the stew pot to the table.
But after supper, when the house was quiet again and she was alone in her room, she had plenty of time to think about weddings. And being available. About the eligible bachelors she had known all her life, and how far short of her dreams they all seemed. She just couldn't picture herself married to any of them.
And she thought about how quickly her world had turned upside down.
Laurelwood was the house she had always wanted to be mistress of. It was the only home she had ever known. But it could never, ever be hers.
With a ragged sigh, she went to her bureau and opened the bottom drawer, where she kept her sketches. Flipping through the collection, she couldn't help noticing how many were of Laurelwood. Even when she had focused on the lilac bush or the orchards or the summer roses, the house was always visible somehow. It was the very heart of all her drawings.
Perhaps she'd find the time to do a real likeness, in oils. A portrait of Laurelwood that would go with her wherever she went. She'd work on it whenever she had a spare minute. At least no one would be able to take that from her.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Where the Heart Is by Erica Vetsch, Andrea Boeshaar, Carol Cox, Rhonda Gibson, Sally Laity, Jane LaMunyon, Claire Sanders, Pamela Kaye Tracy. Copyright © 2012 Erica Vetsch. Excerpted by permission of Barbour Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Where the Heart Is,The Midwife's Apprentice,
Murder or Matrimony,
Bride in the Valley,
Love Opens a Way,
A Tender Branch,
Knight and Day,
On a White Charger,
The Wonder of Spring,
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