Not a Sparrow Falls (Wyldhaven Book 1)

by Lynnette Bonner

  Her hope plummeted. Of course he hadn’t actually meant he wanted to marry her.

  “But I meant every word of it.”

  She blinked. A quavering started in the pit of her stomach.

  He hurried on. “I can see that I’ve shocked you. I don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured. We’ll take our time and get to know each other better. But I wanted you to know what my intentions are where you are concerned.”

  Charlotte felt a bit like her emotions were on a yo-yo, springing from the lowest of lows to the ultimate peak. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. “Do you mean it?”

  He frowned a little. “I do. But I’m not sure tears are what I was hoping to see right now.”

  She smiled and reached up to shush him with one finger. “Some tears are happy tears, Reagan Callahan.”

  A slow smile parted his lips. “Are they now?”

  She let her finger trace his lip, his brow, and the tiny white scar that disappeared into his hairline. “Of a certainty. No wonder God brought me to the wilds of Washington. He knew my perfect match was hiding way out here in Wyldhaven.”

  “Indeed, He did.” His voice was barely audible when he spoke. “Unless you have an objection, I think I’m going to kiss you now.”

  She ought to object. She silenced the voices of Mother and Miss Gidden, which both shouted that surely this was all happening too soon. Her heart hammered in anticipation, and her palms itched to pull his face closer. She wanted nothing more than his kiss in that moment, and that was sure. Charlotte reminded herself to breathe. “I have no objections,” she whispered, tilting her face up to meet his.

  She closed her eyes, and as his lips whispered against hers, a feeling of tranquility settled into the region of her heart. Contentment wrapped her in a cocoon of warmth. And a sense of belonging enveloped her.

  This was bliss.

  She curled her fingers into the silky softness of his hair, feeling his hat tumble past her shoulder to land on the ground at their feet.

  This was a glimpse at holiness—two souls connecting in a way that opened a celestial door to give just a peek into heaven.

  His arms wrapped around her and tugged her closer. His lips skimmed her jaw, touched her earlobe, and then retraced their path.

  Just a preview of what it meant to let go of self and truly love.

  She curled her hands around both sides of his face, rested her thumbs against the corners of his lips, and pulled back just slightly. For a moment she simply breathed with him, searching his eyes. And then she gave herself to him again, lifting up on her tiptoes this time.

  A picture of what it would be like to, for eternity, walk in harmony with the One who noticed, cared, and even hurt when sparrows fell.

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed this first foray into the town of Wyldhaven. I’m looking forward to sharing more depth and history of Washington’s logging industry with you in future stories.

  It should be noted that the town of Cle Elum was not so named until 1908. Prior to that it was called Clealum. One of the largest mills in Washington operated in Cle Elum at this time in history. Many small towns sprang up around mills and in logging areas. Though Wyldhaven is a product of my imagination, there were many towns in Washington and other states across the nation that came into existence in a similar manner. Some were in optimal locations and are still in existence today. Many others were abandoned when the industry they were built around either failed, or needed to move to a new locale.

  Keep reading to find an excerpt from On Eagles’ Wings, book 2 in the Wyldhaven series, and to find some discussion questions for book clubs. There’s also an opportunity to get one of my stories for free if you’d like to join my newsletter.

  Until we meet again in the pages of another story, may the God of all ages protect and keep you as you walk along your way.

  Wishing you God’s greatest blessings,

  Lynnette Bonner

  Please Review!

  If you enjoyed this story, would you take a few minutes to leave your thoughts in a review on your favorite retailer’s website? It would mean so much to me, and helps spread the word about the series.

  You can quickly link through from my website here: http://www.lynnettebonner.com/books/historical-fiction/the-wyldhaven-series/

  Coming Soon…

  You may read an excerpt on the next page…

  Excerpt

  Dixie Pottinger rinsed the last of the soapsuds from the sink and wrung out her rag good and tight. She glanced around the kitchen. Satisfied to see that everything was cleaned and put away as it should be for the night, she pressed both hands into the curve of her aching back.

  She hoped Ma had been able to rest this evening. It had been telling when, two days ago, Ma agreed that it would probably be best if she didn’t come down to help with the cooking. Even though she’d taken to her bed for the past two days, Ma had been coughing something fierce, and Dixie feared she hadn’t been resting much. The work of cooking and cleaning for the boardinghouse was much harder on her own, but Dixie hadn’t really noticed, what with her worry over Ma.

  Thankfully, they had no guests in the boardinghouse tonight, so dinner had been a light crowd, and now she could go up to check on Ma.

  She opened the warming drawer on the oven and withdrew the bowl of chicken broth and the biscuit she’d set aside earlier. Adding the pot of tea that had been steeping while she cleaned, a slice of lemon, and the jar of honey that Washington Nolan had come around selling last week, she hefted the tray and headed upstairs.

  She could hear Ma’s hacking cough even before she reached the door to their rooms. Carefully balancing the tray, she twisted the door handle and pushed inside. The main room was just large enough for a settee and a rocking chair. Ma’s room was just to the left, and Dixie’s own small room to the right. The only other room in their chambers was the small lavatory, a luxury Dixie was even more thankful for now that Ma had grown so sick.

  She nudged Ma’s door open and stepped into her room, then set the tray on Ma’s dresser and approached the side of her bed. “Ma? How are you feeling tonight? I’ve just finished with the cleanup and brought you some soup. Does that sound good?”

  The only response she got was a low moan and another round of hacking coughs. That sent Dixie’s pulse skyrocketing. Ma had always been a hearty soul. Dixie never remembered seeing her this sick before.

  She laid a hand to Ma’s forehead, and her alarm rose even more.

  Burning with fever!

  That did it. Whether Ma would be upset or not, Dixie needed to go fetch Flynn.

  She gritted her teeth at her impropriety. Dr. Griffin. Had he worked his way so far into her affections that she was thinking of him by his given name now? She must banish that propensity, posthaste!

  She lifted her skirts and hurried down the stairs and out the front to the building next door.

  McGinty’s Alehouse was still quite busy for this time of day. Several men played cards at a table in the corner, a bottle of rotgut making the rounds and liberally shared by all. Several others lounged at the bar, chatting with Ewan McGinty, the proprietor.

  Dixie hung back by the door until she caught Ewan’s eye.

  As usual, his gaze lit up and then drifted a lazy sweep down the length of her.

  It made her stomach curl. Mostly because a look like that might have at one time turned her head.

  Ewan aimed a stream of tobacco toward the spittoon he kept behind the bar. “Dixie, darlin’. What can I do for you?”

  Dixie fiddled with the brooch pinned at the base of her throat. “Is Doc in? Ma’s powerful sick.”

  “Doc!”

  Dixie jolted. She should be used to the fact that Ewan never went up the stairs to get Doc from the room he rented, but simply hollered at the top of his voice. But she never seemed to be prepared when he did.

  Flynn appeared at the top of the staircase only a moment later, doctor bag in hand. He descended the stairs rapi
dly, searching the room for who might be in need of his services.

  His steps faltered slightly when he saw her by the door, but he quickly recovered and hurried to her side. “What is it?” A furrow of worry trenched his forehead.

  Dixie felt a tremor course through her, and to her surprise, tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. She blinked hard. She was unaccountably relieved to see him. “It’s Ma. I need you to come check on her. She’s been sick for a few days. But her fever…” The words choked off, and she couldn’t seem to say more.

  Flynn held a hand toward the door and stretched the other, holding his bag, behind her to urge her forward. “Lead the way. I’m glad you came for me.”

  Dixie swiped at the tears that had now spilled over. Her fingers trembled.

  Doc walked beside her, his worried gaze fixed on her face.

  She huffed. “I’m sorry. I just… If I lose her.”

  “Hey.” Flynn settled his hand in the middle of her back, directing her around a puddle in the street. “I’m going to do my very best not to let that happen. Don’t borrow trouble and all that, aye?”

  Dixie nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just…don’t like to see her like this.” She lifted her skirts and took the stairs ahead of him.

  Ma was coughing when they stepped into the apartment.

  Dixie rushed ahead, leading the way to her bedchamber. She went around to the far side of Ma’s bed. “Ma, I’m here. I’ve brought Dr. Griffin.”

  Flynn took over the moment he stepped into the room. He set his bag on Ma’s bedside table and leaned over Ma so she could easily see his face without having to turn her head. He smiled in that special way he had with the infirm.

  “Hello, Rose. It’s me, Doc. I’m just going to listen to your lungs and do a little poking and prodding, all right? Don’t mind me.” He rested the back of his hand against her forehead, then lifted Ma’s wrist in one hand and his pocket watch in the other.

  Dixie’s fingers plucked nervously at the pin on her blouse. There wasn’t much space, but that didn’t stop her from pacing first one direction and then the next. She kept her study focused on Flynn’s expression, wanting to see if there would be any hint of despair or sorrow, but for now his face remained impassive.

  From his bag he pulled a device that looked like a clamp of some sort with a bell on one end. He put the two prongs of the clamp into his ears and then bent over Ma and placed the bell-shaped end against her chest. He listened, first in one area, then moved the device to another area and listened again, then again, and again.

  Dixie was practically holding her breath by the time he straightened and tugged the tubes from his ears. She studied his face, willing him to look at her. But his gaze was still trained on Ma.

  Finally, after a long moment, his shoulders slumped, and he lifted his gaze across the bed to Dixie.

  Her heart threatened to stop. She’d seen that look in his eyes before. She’d seen it on the day that Hiram Wakefield’s son had been crushed by the logging wagon and died only moments after arriving in town. She’d seen it the day that the Kings’ newborn had been born blue and cold and lifeless.

  She shook her head, feeling the tears stacking up against her lids like thunderclouds on a horizon.

  Flynn tilted his head and reached a hand to scrub the back of his neck, so much pain reflected in his gray eyes. With a jut of his chin, he indicated they should talk in the other room.

  All she seemed capable of, though, was covering her mouth with one hand. Her feet felt rooted to the floor.

  Flynn stepped to the foot of the bed and stretched a hand toward her, compassion and regret filling his expression as he motioned for her to join him.

  There was something in the look that lent her strength, and she lifted her skirts and stepped past him and out into the sitting room of the apartment.

  She heard him come to a stop just behind her. With a sigh, he set his doctor bag on the floor near his feet, then stepped around to look her in the face. “I believe she has pneumonia.”

  Dixie pulled in a breath. “That’s bad, isn’t it?”

  Flynn sighed and folded his hands. “It’s not good. We’ll have to watch her round the clock to make sure her fever doesn’t get any higher. We’ll also have to keep fluids down her so she doesn’t dehydrate. And we’ll need more pillows to prop her up. Some studies I’ve read say there are better survival rates when patients are made to sit up in their beds. Steaming the room is also said to help. So we’ll need to keep hot water going round the clock.”

  Relief eased some of her tension. “When I saw your expression, I thought…” She was unable to finish the sentence.

  Flynn reached one hand to the back of his neck. “Listen. I don’t want to give you false hope. The mortality rate for pneumonia is one in four. But I will be here every moment that I can and will do my very best to bring her through this.”

  Before she thought better of it, Dixie threw her arms around his neck. She felt him stiffen, and lurched back, face flaming. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just— She means so much to me, and…”

  Flynn folded his arms and tilted her a lazy smile. “Far as I’m concerned, you can throw yourself into my arms any time you want. But I think you know that already.”

  Dixie felt her face blaze, and she clapped both hands to her cheeks. This secret of hers had carried on long enough. Especially where Flynn was concerned. “Dr. Griffin…I’m terribly sorry that I’ve never told you sooner. But the truth is…I’m a married woman.”

  Flynn’s eyes widened. He stepped back and propped his hands on his hips. “You’re what?!”

  Find out more about this series here.

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  When Havyn Jessup agreed to join her church’s building trip, she had no idea the man who broke her heart was coming as well. The last thing she wants is to spend time with the now internationally famous actor, Levi Carter. Even if it is in Africa, where he might, if God had any sense of justice, be eaten, one tiny bite at a time, by a pride of hungry lions. Two whole weeks. She’d never survive that long.

  Levi is elated to learn that Havyn will be joining the building team. He had planned to look her up just as soon as he got home to tell her what a fool he’d been. But there is no time like the present. And what better place to ensure she would hear him than when she was strapped in at thirty thousand feet above sea level? Two short weeks. Could he convince her he was a changed man in that amount of time?

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  Book Club Questions

  After Charlotte is betrayed by Kent, she prays and asks God to guide and show her what to do next. Do you believe God cares and has a plan for each step of our lives? What has made you believe the way that you do?

  Charlotte’s parents wanted a “good match” for her. They were so focused on Kent’s outward appearances of wealth and good standing that they missed the lack of character beneath the surface. Have you ever misjudged someone in such a way? What measures can we employ to keep ourselves from being taken off guard by people like that?

  Charlotte wanted to please her parents, and so against her better judgment, she decided she would marry Kent. Is it easy for you to stand and make your own decisions? Or are you a people pleaser like Charlotte? Of course, sometimes listening to others’ counsel is an important and wise thing to do. What are some ways to ensure you are making right decisions for the right reasons?


  Even after feeling she’d heard from God that going to Wyldhaven was the answer for her, Charlotte waffled about her decision. Have you ever found yourself in a similar situation? Why do you think it is so easy for us to fall into doubt?

  After Reagan rescues Charlotte from Lenny, he makes the following statement: “I think we often make the mistake of thinking that if we are in the center of God’s will there should be no troubles or hardship.” What do you think about that? Have you ever been in a difficult or challenging situation and still felt confident that you were doing exactly what God wanted?

  What do you think are some good things we can do to make sure we are walking in the center of God’s will, hardships or not?

  There is a lot of talk in our world today about police brutality. Did it bother you when Reagan punched Lenny? What about when he threatened to shoot the outlaws in his jail cells? Back in the days of this story, such tactics would not have even been questioned. Do you think the place where we are at as a society now is a benefit or a hindrance to law and order? Or maybe a little bit of both?

  By listening to God’s voice, Joe saved Liora from committing suicide. Have you ever been in a situation where you wondered if God was speaking to you and you acted or didn’t act? How did that situation turn out?

  Liora is looked down upon because she’s a prostitute, but the townspeople aren’t aware of why or how she ended up in that line of work. Have you ever judged someone without knowing his or her story? How did finding out more about Liora change how you viewed her?

  Charlotte felt the Lord leading her to befriend Liora, even though she also felt the counter-pull of what society might think of her if she associated with a prostitute. Have you ever felt drawn to befriend someone who might have jeopardized your job or social standing in some way? Did you follow through? How did that turn out?

  Why do you think Waddell was so determined to get revenge on someone—anyone—when he could have initially escaped and left the area?

  What do you think Waddell would have done with Charlotte if he’d gotten away with kidnapping her?

  Waddell’s inability to let go of his thirst for revenge was the end of him. Are you currently unable to let go of anything despite the fact that holding on is hurting you or has potential to hurt you? What might help you let go?