The Memory of Love Page 16

  He sounded wistful, as if he longed to return to those days.

  “You miss him? Your father?”

  “Yes, but I have faith I will see him again.”

  She could not keep her composure from cracking. “You are going home?”

  Of course he would go. No strings, no attachments, no tomorrows.

  “Perhaps, when the day is right.”

  When it was warmer, then. She would see him for a few more months. And at least he was honest. She had always known that about him. He had even told her about the woman he loved that did not return his love. She had marveled that his devotion was so strong and that he would wade through a wilderness to find that special woman.

  Joshua had to go, Callie realized, so he could search for the missing half of his heart. Wait till she told Suzannah he had not come here for her.

  “Why did you not tell me from the start who you were and why you were here?”

  He had been tossing the hat around and around his fingers. Now he laid it to the side. “Call me stubborn, but once I learned you were to marry Levi, I figured there was no hope for me. I had prayed continually for the years we were apart that you would remember who I was. I thought perhaps if you saw me, spoke to me, then you would remember. When it did not appear you were going to, all I wanted was for you to be happy. If that meant stepping aside, I was willing to do so.”

  “I am not.” She smoothed the edge of her apron.

  “Not?”

  “Not going to marry Levi.”

  A burden she had been unaware of lifted. That is why she had never been comfortable around Levi. Joshua was the man she loved.

  “God is very good.” He breathed the words out in a rush.

  “You went after him to bring him back to me, did you not?” It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would to ask.

  “Partially. But I really went after Sarah. Since she was the only family you had, I knew how important she was to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That is all you have to say?” He sounded as if he could not believe she did not care more.

  Oh, there is more, she thought, so much more. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

  She owed him everything. Even as he rode away, she now knew her heart could love. But only him.

  He caught her eyeing his injury.

  “Perhaps I will have a dashing scar when it heals.”

  “If that is what you want.” If she could keep her distance, it would not hurt too terribly when he was gone.

  “Will it matter to you what it looks like?”

  Tremendously. “Why would it?”

  “Some women I have known would be terrified to look at something disfiguring.”

  She was drawn to it. It was a symbol of all he had done, all he was.

  “I thought it was a minor scratch. And looks are not all that make a person who he is,” Callie announced. “It is what is in one’s heart that matters.”

  What is in my heart? she asked herself. Jesus, most importantly. The belief He died for my sins.

  Anything else? Sorrow when I think about what Sarah did.

  And?

  She caved in, finally acknowledging the feeling of utmost comfort that expanded within her when she looked at Joshua.

  “So what is in your heart?”

  Did he have to use that familiar drawl that made her want to shout?

  You. “God.”

  It was the same answer she had used months ago.

  “That is as it should be.”

  Callie was suddenly glad she had not cast the Lord aside and turned her back on Him. Glad she had kept her faith when life seemed so full of despair.

  “Would there be room for someone else?”

  “Someone else?”

  Did she sound as confused as she felt?

  “Yes.”

  That drawl again! Good thing she was already sitting, or she would have collapsed to the floor.

  “As in …?”

  “Me.”

  Callie gazed at the strong, willful face she had seen in her dreams for months. They had bantered like this in the beginning. She had enjoyed it then. She was enjoying it now. Immensely.

  “You?”

  Room? She would always have room for him. They would be a three-strand cord. The Lord. Joshua. Herself. She regretted that Sarah might never know this kind of happiness.

  “You are thinking about your sister, are you not?” Joshua asked softly.

  She was amazed at how easily he appeared to read her mind.

  “If it is God’s will, I would like to see her again. Someday.”

  She traced the angry red scar that started at the underside of his wrist and ran up toward his elbow.

  “When did you get this?”

  “When I rescued you from the flood.”

  She felt woozy, as if it were July instead of December and she had been in the noon heat too long. There was not enough air in that last breath she had taken. It all seemed to be happening too fast, yet it seemed so natural, as if Someone with more knowledge and insight than she had was in control and had led them to this point.

  Joshua looked at the woman before him. Her high neckline hid the slender length of her throat. Her cheeks radiated a beauty he had remembered in his thoughts throughout his captivity. When he had watched her join the Moravians after the flood, knowing she had no memory of who he was, he’d had to trust that God would bring them together again. And here she was!

  She was like a delicate flower, but even the tiniest flowers sometimes thrive in the harshest conditions. Someday he would tell her how much strength he derived from her.

  “No matter what you have done, or what you cannot remember, I came here because I care about you.”

  “Suzannah said you did.”

  Were those tears in her eyes? Had he put them there?

  “She was right. You are not the young woman I fell in love with, but neither am I the young man you cared for then. God taught me a great deal of patience while I learned to deal with losing you the first time. I will not let you go again.”

  “You mean that?” She sounded incredulous.

  “I do. God brought us together again because we had not finished what He began in Pennsylvania. I believe what we have gone through was so that He could make sure we were strong enough to stand up to whatever happens in our future.”

  “Our future?”

  He enjoyed watching her face fill with awe.

  “Do you mind if I call you Liope?”

  She narrowed her doe-brown eyes.

  “That was the special name I had—”

  “Yes, you may.”

  Joshua especially liked the way her brown eyes softened as she gave him that permission. It was as if a fiber of what they had shared before had come to life. No, this was nothing like what they had had before, this was new, and only something designed by God could be so fulfilling.

  “Did I call you Josh or Joshua?”

  He laughed. “You called me Mr. Johnston. Not once could I convince you to use anything else.”

  “Oh.” She mouthed the word.

  “Liope, I do not wish to sound presumptuous, but I have waited for five years for this. There are so many memories I have of us together, of the promises we made to each other, but it does not appear as if you are ever going to recall what we had.”

  “It does not,” she agreed. “But suddenly the past does not matter as much as it used to.”

  After all this time, could it be this simple? He stretched out a hand and held his breath while she considered what the gesture meant. Slowly, she tangled her fingers with his, palm against palm, heart to heart.

  The moment of silence was precious. Their eyes captured and held it so that this special time would always be theirs.

  “I have to tell Suzannah thanks,” she finally said. She explained what had happened at the cemetery and with Hannah Grace. “She showed me that if I allow the past to control my future, I will never know wha
t it is like to laugh at life again.”

  He swallowed hard. Asking should not be this difficult. He had already asked her once to marry him. Those words seemed insufficient for what he wanted to know.

  “Liope? Will you laugh with me?”

  For a long moment her gaze lingered on his wound, tracing its length as if it signified all they had gone through. Panic rose in his throat. Had he pushed too hard, too fast?

  “Absolutely.”

  She punctuated her answer by bobbing her head. Her bonnet slipped off and her braid cavorted in the air around her shoulders.

  It was the answer he had been longing to hear since that fateful night when Brother David had convinced him to let her go. It did not matter that she was crying instead of laughing. Her tears cleansed and healed, preparing her heart for the months and years ahead.

  Joshua dipped his head at Shadow, who still stood in a corner, trying to appear uninterested in what was happening between the two but unable to contain the merriment that filled his deep-brown features.

  As Joshua unfolded himself from the chair, Liope leaned into his arms. Her head nestled against his chest while his lips brushed the beginning of her plaited curls. He inhaled the scent of winter sunshine that emanated from her golden locks and whispered his gratefulness.

  “Father, thank You for allowing me the privilege of making Liope laugh. I promise to keep her safe until she crosses Your final shore and to always show her that life on this earth is nothing more than a different kind of heaven.”

  “I promise to spend my days making new memories of love with you,” Callie said.

  Epilogue

  Liope brushed at the drops that insisted they had a right to cascade down her cheeks. Every time she looked at the baby who had tried to arrive on the last day of 1775, but missed by a few hours, she cried. They were happy tears, but goodness, would they ever stop?

  “Except for you, my Liope, I have never seen anyone so perfect.”

  Barring the day they had exchanged vows and promised their hearts to each other, Joshua’s words sounded more full of delight than she had ever heard. And they started a new round of tears. She smiled first at her husband of twenty-two months, then at the precious gift from God in her arms.

  Joshua slid into bed beside her and curled his arm around them. “Sophie Ruth Johnston. I like the way it sounds.”

  “We did not name her that because of the way it sounds!” Callie exclaimed. “We named her that because—”

  “We will always remember the first baby with that name, the one who taught us so much about life,” he finished.

  “And who taught me to believe in God’s plan for my life because He knows what is best for me.”

  Joshua kissed the tip of her nose then the baby’s cheek. “Correction, my sweet. He knows what is best for us.”

  Chapter 1

  I hope this brings better news than the last one did, sir.” Jeremiah handed the pouch across the table, watching anxiously as David Williamson unraveled the leather straps.

  Williamson’s dark eyes perused the missive before turning to Jeremiah. “It is times like these when men are asked to give more than they planned.”

  “I did not think it would be good tidings when I picked up the message at Fort Pitt,” Jeremiah replied.

  “You are right. This brings news of another attack.”

  Jeremiah continually hoped the need for their group of defenders would fade. But there was no indication that would happen. Though Washington County had abundant steeply sloped hills, gently gurgling streams, and quiet meadows, it also was within easy reach of Indians, who crossed the Ohio River to rid themselves of their frustrations.

  “I was afraid of that, sir,” Jeremiah said. “How far away was this one?”

  “About a two-day ride. This reinforces our need to find more men and to ensure they are ready to fight.” Williamson paused. “Despite your insistence to the contrary, you do know that you are a great help to our cause.”

  Jeremiah shifted from foot to foot. “I do my part, sir, but you know my view on killing.”

  “I would never ask you to do something I would not do myself,” the colonel assured him. “But the fact is, things are getting worse.”

  Jeremiah motioned to the dispatch. “What happened this time?”

  Williamson gave a deep sigh. “Last week, on April nineteenth, General Brodhead attacked an Indian camp near the head of the Muskingum River. He suspected they were British allies.”

  Jeremiah scrubbed a hand back and forth across his neck. “Suspecting and knowing are two different things.”

  Williamson nodded. “Yes. Well, he went south to Fort Henry before he headed to Ohio and ended up with more than three hundred men on his side. According to this, the Muskingum River was high due to recent heavy rains, with half the tribe on the other side. The general did not capture all the prisoners he wanted. He did manage to corral twenty men, women, and children and forced them to march upriver. His men massacred the hostages not far from the fort.”

  “Massacred them! Did he not think about the consequences of that action?”

  “Apparently the general is not one to concern himself greatly with such things,” Williamson said in a carefully controlled tone. “Since we are so close to Fort Pitt, I think we need to prepare for retaliation.”

  “I wish there were another way to resolve this situation,” Jeremiah answered. “I know warriors destroy families, burn crops, and terrorize innocent children. And I know I should be glad to halt such atrocities, yet—”

  “Almost everyone in these parts believes the Wyandots are responsible for the raids,” Williamson interrupted. “But I am not so sure. Something must have made the general think that he needed to attack that Delaware tribe.”

  “I have ridden through that part of Ohio,” Jeremiah pointed out. “Some of the Indians there are led by Moravian missionaries. They call themselves Praying Indians. We cannot blame a tribe for something they may not have done.”

  “You know what it is like to lose a family member,” Williamson responded. “Revenge often comes before rational thought. I am afraid it will not take much to get the men of this county thinking along those lines.”

  “That does not mean I have to like it,” Jeremiah declared.

  “No, but it is becoming a fact of life,” Williamson said. “While I believe that if we were able to get that British commander at Fort Detroit to quit inciting the redskins we might have a chance at some peace and quiet, it does not seem likely that will occur.”

  Jeremiah placed his hands on the back of the chair in front of him. He’d ridden nonstop for two days. His back ached from the jarring motion of his horse. He wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a long night’s sleep.

  “There are other Indian groups in that area,” Jeremiah offered. “Besides the Christian Delawares, there is a group of Mohicans. I cannot see why you think they would be responsible for the assaults.”

  Williamson narrowed his eyes. “I know you do not believe in violence, Jeremiah. But is that all that bothers you about this?”

  Jeremiah wanted no part of killing. That was why he had considered asking Williamson to relieve him of his militia position.

  “Well?” Williamson challenged. “The sooner you get it out in the open, the sooner we can deal with it.”

  Doom echoed in Jeremiah’s heart, much as it had the night he lost Jenny. He studied the man who he knew bore the responsibility for more than two hundred lives on his shoulders. Williamson’s hair and brows were a prematurely grizzled gray, and weariness filled his eyes.

  “How is the muster going?” Jeremiah asked, diverting the conversation.

  “Last count showed eighty dependable men,” Williamson bragged. “But while you were gone, another family was attacked. It will not be the last,” he added. “The redcoats will prod until they get the warriors to chase us out of here. I wish we were not so close to the Ohio River.”

  “We are farther east than some,”
Jeremiah replied, thinking again about how Indians had disrupted his own life.

  “Distance will not keep our kinfolk safe,” Williamson argued. “Those warriors ride till they see a home, then they strike. You know what is left when they finish.”

  Jeremiah wished he’d dropped off the missive and gone to his cabin. The tiny house nestled in the hills had been empty when Jeremiah arrived in Washington County. He knew why but tried not to let that bother him.

  Williamson drummed his fingers on the desk. “We are going to have to take drastic measures, whether we want to or not.”

  “Are you sure that is wise?”

  “Being in command sometimes means ignoring what others think,” Williamson replied. “The settlers did not elect me because I would make everyone happy. They put me here because they trusted me to do a good job.”

  “Of course, sir, but—”

  “They expect me to protect them,” Williamson went on, seemingly oblivious to Jeremiah’s anxiety. “That means I have only one choice—to go out on the trail and see for myself what is happening.”

  “You mentioned earlier that Major Whelp is out on patrol,” Jeremiah said. “If you go, there will be no one left in charge.”

  “Every good leader does need a dependable backup.” Williamson clasped his hands in front of him on the desk.

  “So you will wait until Major Whelp returns?”

  Williamson studied his hands. “You know I have a very high regard for you.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “You are one of the few who do not hold my past against me, sir. I appreciate that.”

  Williamson waved a hand in the air. “We all make mistakes. I have made plenty in my day. But what I am about to tell you is no mistake.” Williamson gazed at Jeremiah. “I signed you up as a county lieutenant. I know you will do a good job.”

  Jeremiah bounded from behind the chair. “With all due respect, sir, you cannot do that. I promised to serve as a courier. Nothing more.”

  Williamson gave him a pointed look. “May I remind you that since I am in charge, I can do whatever I wish? The subject is closed.”

  “But sir,” Jeremiah began, ready to protest this unexpected turn of events.