Her chest aching, Savannah gripped his hand, unable to speak.
“I saw him get shot. I ran to him, but”—he shook his head—“there was nothing I could do. He died right there . . . in my arms. I closed his eyes, but . . . I swear I saw heaven in those eyes before he passed. Along with a peace I knew I wanted in my own life. And found . . . soon after.”
As Aidan stared at the image of her brother’s face in the photograph, all she could picture was Jake’s sparkling smile, his laughter. And him lying there on the battlefield in those final moments. “He didn’t die alone,” she whispered, searching Aidan’s eyes, remembering how many times she’d prayed for that very thing. For both her brothers and her father. “You were with him.” She smiled through tears. “At the very last . . . he wasn’t alone.”
A faint smile tipped Aidan’s mouth. “ ‘Finer than a frog’s hair split four ways.’ Your brother had a unique way of phrasing things. And his love for his family and this land . . . it’s what brought me here.”
“It’s what led you to me,” she whispered, touching his face, silently marveling at God’s quiet orchestration of lives and realizing she’d likely never know how often the Almighty did this. How often He interlaced such painful parts of this earthly journey with such joyous ones, weaving them together with such skill and grace. And beauty.
And she’d be forever grateful He did.
EPILOGUE
Almost three months later
“TOSS ME THE BALL THIS TIME, AIDAN!” ANDREW YELLED.
“No!” Carolyne called. “Toss it to me.”
Aidan grinned. “I’m going to toss it to the one person who isn’t yelling at me right now!” He lofted the baseball in the air to Savannah, who caught it one-handed, then threw it back—right between her brother and sister down the road leading to the house. Carolyne took off running for it, but Andrew in his newly fashioned boots and leg braces gave quite a respectable chase.
Savannah laughed, watching them.
Aidan came up from behind and slipped his arms around his wife. She leaned back into him, and he felt as though he had the world in his embrace. A breeze stirred the trees overhead, and leaves of burnished gold and crimson fell like snowfall in autumn.
Savannah sighed against him. “Mrs. Eleanor Geoffrey at the Widows’ and Children’s Home said to thank you again for the draperies. She told me she never dreamed they’d ever have draperies so lovely.”
“She’s welcome to them. I’m just grateful you’d saved the ones from our house.”
“Our house. I love the sound of that. Though I still can’t believe you had me continue to sew the curtains even after you knew you didn’t want them.”
“I had to have some reason to keep you coming back out here. Until I was ready”—he kissed her left hand, looking at the gold wedding band and band with companion diamond—“to give you this.”
She turned in his arms and kissed him, which earned a wince from her younger brother and a smooching sound from her little sister. Which didn’t bother him or Savannah in the least.
Mrs. Pruitt rang the bell beside the front step, signaling lunch was ready, and they ate at the table on the porch, Mrs. Pruitt included. The older woman adored Andrew and Carolyne and was happier than he’d ever seen her. He looked around the table at the faces and knew that no amount of human orchestration could have brought together what had happened here—and on a faraway battlefield in North Carolina.
Jake Darby . . . Nashville.
His throat tightened, thinking about that young soldier, and he pledged again—as he did every day—that he would not only live this life to its fullest, but that he would live it for the One who had given him life.
He and Savannah had looked up the scripture reference scribbled on the back of the sketched likeness of her grandparents. Deuteronomy 29:29: “The secret things belong unto the Lord our God: but those things which are revealed belong unto us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law.”
The verse had become even more touching when they’d discovered the note Merle Darby had written beside it in the margin, almost hidden in the binding of the Darby family Bible. Along with the verse, Aidan had committed it to memory. “May what is hidden within the covers of this book bring life to the souls of my children and also serve as an inheritance, both in this life and in the one to come.”
And the date written beside the note, April sixth, eighteen hundred and sixty-three, was the same as on the back of the drawn likeness of her grandparents. As best they could piece together that was the date Mr. Darby had finally told his wife about the land Savannah’s maternal grandfather had left to their oldest child years earlier.
Aiden realized they’d likely never be certain, but they guessed that Melna Darby had refused the land due to the rift between her and her father. But Merle, in wisdom and love for his wife and children, had accepted it, then had held it in trust all those years.
Thinking again of the scripture and note, Aidan intended to do all he could to make good on Merle Darby’s petition for the Darby family. His family now.
Savannah disappeared and returned minutes later. “Be careful. It’s hot!”
“Ooh!” Carolyne swooned. “Peach cobbler! That’s my favorite. It’s heavenly.”
The golden-brown juice from the cobbler had bubbled over and baked onto the sides and looked every bit as good as Aidan knew it was. Savannah spooned the flaky crust and savory fruit into dishes, serving him first, then Mrs. Pruitt, then her siblings.
And with every bite, he thought of Nashville. And of home. Both this one and the better one to come.
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
DEAR READER,
Thanks for taking yet another journey with me. Your time is precious, and I appreciate you investing it with me.
The idea for To Mend a Dream came while I was writing To Win Her Favor (a Belle Meade Plantation novel) and when I first met Savannah Darby on the page. Savannah is a secondary character in that novel, but her story and all that she’d been through and endured in her young life spoke to me—and demanded its own story.
I love stories about hidden things. A hidden letter, message, or treasure. A trinket with a special meaning that’s discovered only once the mystery is solved. But I’m so grateful that in Christ nothing is hidden.
He sees everything. Both the good and the bad in all of us. There’s no use pretending with Him. In fact, pretending with Him is really only pretending with yourself. I firmly believe in God’s master plan in our lives and in how He weaves our lives in and out of one another’s, like He did with Jake, Aidan, and Savannah.
If you’re hurting right now and are wondering if Jesus sees you, rest assured that He does. And He not only sees you, He’s working for your eternal good this very moment, working in details of your life He has yet to reveal to you, and that you may never know about until we reach Home. But trust Him. He’s working.
As Proverbs 16:9 says, “We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps” (NLT). And aren’t we grateful He does?
For you baking enthusiasts, I’m including the recipe for Savannah’s Truly Southern Peach Cobbler featured in the story. This really is like the “good ol’ days” cobbler my granny Agnes Preston Gattis used to make. Hope you enjoy!
I’d love to hear from you! Let’s connect through one of the venues listed on my About the Author page.
Until next time . . .
Tamera Alexander
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my fellow Southern authors—Dorothy, Shelley, and Elizabeth—for partnering with me in this collection. I’m honored to call you ladies colleagues . . . and friends. My thanks also to my HarperCollins publishing team. What a pleasure it is to work with each of you. Continued gratitude to Deborah Raney, my critique partner for over a dozen years now, for sharing her talent and laughter with me, and to the Coeur d’Alene ladies for brainstorming this novella during last summer’s five days of “plotting, praying, and
praying.” I look forward to our time together all year. To Jerry Trescott, bless you for sharing your extensive knowledge of architectural history. To Natasha Kern, my literary agent, you’re simply the best! And thank you, dear reader, for taking these journeys with me. Your enthusiasm and eagerness to read is such an encouragement to me as I’m writing. I always love hearing from you.
Finally, thanks to Dr. Michael Easley, one of our pastors at Fellowship Bible Church, for his oft-repeated phrase, “Don’t let the world teach you theology.” Oh, so true. Never judge God’s faithfulness by your present circumstances, friend. Instead, trust God who is faithful no matter the circumstance. He’s always working for your eternal good. And if you’ve trusted in His Son, Jesus, then you can trust that—no matter what happens in this life—the best is always yet to come.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Savannah Darby lost most of her family, her home, and like many Southerners following the Civil War, was forced to leave everything behind when family land went to auction. What family treasure—a portrait, diary, special possession, perhaps—would you miss most if forced to leave behind your home and belongings?
2. Prejudice was a theme in To Win Her Favor, the Belle Meade Plantation novel in which we first meet Savannah Darby. What prejudices are evident in Aidan and Savannah’s story? Are those still prevalent today? How so? And do you struggle with them?
3. If given the chance to get back into a home that had been legally taken from you, do you think you would have made the same decision as Savannah? Do you think her search for what her father left was right or wrong? Why?
4. Aidan’s motivation in moving to Nashville is guided by what happened when he met the Confederate soldier one afternoon during the lull of battle. Are you aware that this really happened in the Civil War? That Union soldiers and Confederate soldiers would converse between battles? In what ways do you think these meetings changed these men?
5. Have you ever experienced a “chance meeting” (like Aidan and Nashville) and yet knew deep down that chance had nothing to do with it? Share your experience.
6. Savannah treasures a family letter in the story. Letter writing is all but a lost art these days. Would having a letter from a departed loved one have meant more back then, do you think? Why or why not?
7. In chapter 12, Savannah reflects on the many possessions she and her family owned. With time’s passing, her perspective on those has changed. How has it changed? And can you relate to her feelings?
8. God worked to weave Aidan’s and Savannah’s lives together in ways they couldn’t see and certainly didn’t plan. Have you ever made a plan that you thought was a good one, only to have God intervene and make it even better? Share your experience, and also your thoughts on Proverbs 16:9.
TAMERA LOVES TO SKYPE/FACETIME WITH BOOK CLUBS WHO are reading her books. Visit Tamera’s website (www.TameraAlexander.com) for more information on inviting her to join your group and for recipes from all her novels.
RECIPE
SAVANNAH’S TRULY SOUTHERN PEACH COBBLER
What you’ll need:
. 12–15 fresh peaches, peeled and sliced (about 15–16 cups) (You can use frozen peaches if fresh aren’t in season, but you’ll likely need to drain off some of the extra syrup. You can gauge that as you’re spooning it into the dish.)
. 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
. 3 cups sugar (Yes, diabetics beware! But if you’re counting calories and carbs, stevia works wonderfully with this recipe.)
. 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
. 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
. 2/3 cup real butter (Please, no margarine, the southern cook in me begs of you.)
. 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
. 2 old-fashioned pie crusts (recipe below) OR 2 refrigerated pie crusts may be substituted if you really don’t love your family and friends (Just kidding. You love them. Just not enough to make homemade, bless your heart.)
. 1/2 cup finely chopped pecans, toasted (Toasting pecans is easy. Chop finely, spread on a cookie sheet sprayed with oil, then bake for 4–5 minutes at 350°F. Watch so they don’t burn.)
. 5 tablespoons sugar, divided
. sweetened whipped cream
Now comes the fun part:
If you’re making your dough from scratch (which is best and so easy!), make your pie crust dough first and stick it (flattened according to instructions) in the fridge to chill for 15–20 minutes.
Stir together peaches, flour, 3 cups sugar, nutmeg, and cinnamon in a Dutch oven. Bring to a boil over medium heat, reduce to low heat, and simmer for 8–10 minutes. Remove from heat, gently fold in butter and vanilla (and somehow resist eating the entire pot). Spoon half of the mixture into a lightly greased 13 × 9-inch baking dish. Preheat oven to 475°F.
Take your two homemade pie crusts—or for those of you who don’t love your friends and families as much, unroll the two store-bought pie crusts (she says with sweet Southern sass)—and roll to a 14 × 10-inch rectangle. Sprinkle 1/4 cup toasted pecans and 2 tablespoons sugar over the first pie crust. Place pastry over peach mixture in dish, trimming sides to fit the baking dish. Bake at 475°F for 20–25 minutes or until lightly browned.
Meanwhile, roll your second crust to a 14 × 10-inch rectangle (or unroll the second pie crust). Sprinkle 2 tablespoons sugar and remaining 1/4 cup toasted pecans over the piecrust as you did the first one. Next, cut into one-inch strips with a knife. If you want to get fancy, use a fluted pastry wheel, but you don’t get extra jewels in your crown.
Remove the peach cobbler from the oven. Spoon remaining peach mixture over baked pastry. Arrange pastry strips over peach mixture, latticing if you want to, then sprinkle with remaining 1 tablespoon sugar. Bake 15–18 minutes or until lightly browned. Serve warm or cold with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.
Let me know if you make this! Better yet, post a picture of you and your cobbler on www.Facebook.com/tameraalexander. I’d love to see it, and you!
OTHER NOVELS BY TAMERA ALEXANDER
THE BELLE MEADE PLANTATION SERIES
To Whisper Her Name
To Win Her Favor
THE BELMONT MANSION SERIES
A Lasting Impression
A Beauty So Rare
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TAMERA ALEXANDER IS A USA TODAY BESTSELLING author whose richly drawn characters and thought-provoking plots have earned her devoted readers worldwide, as well as multiple industry awards. After living in Colorado for seventeen years, Tamera has returned to her Southern roots.
She and her husband make their home in Nashville, where they enjoy life with their two adult children, who live nearby, and Jack, a precious—and precocious—silky terrier. And all of this just a stone’s throw away from the beloved Southern mansions about which she writes.
Visit her at www.tameraalexander.com
Facebook: tamera.alexander
Twitter: @tameraalexander
Pinterest: tameraauthor
To Mend a Dream Page 8
