Sanctuary
Page 1
Sanctuary
ALENE ADELE ROY
AuthorHouse™
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Bloomington, IN 47403
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Phone: 1-800-839-8640
©
2012 -2013 Alene Adele Roy. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 10/23/2013
ISBN: 978-1-4772-0628-7 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4772-0629-4 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4772-0871-7 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012908599
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and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Part Two
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Part Three
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
About The Author
List of Illustrations
Magnolia Gardens and manor held secrets, and hearts with different goals.
She already knew the secret of the missing horses.
Watching the dragonflies of Dragonfly Pond made them certain they would soon fly to their own missions
Her sweet laughter filled the air at receiving his green gift, yet, that was not the only surprise he had for her this Easter Sunday.
A ghost appeared from the fog at the pond. She didn’t see it. He did, and he went to fight for his lady’s life.
Ancient clay from Dragonfly Pond gave them a sign, a gift ~ a dragonfly fossil.
“I have the Golden Treasure Chest, Shield of the Blue Knight, the Crown of CastleBlue, a rare coin, and the Golden Medallion to present this evening.
Next, the gentlemen wanted to join the ladies in cutting stars, crescent moons, hearts, butterflies, and birds from newspaper, for the Christmas tree. Late in the afternoon, everyone became tired and silly, trying to fashion cows, pigs, and horses. Most did not look the part, yet, they all had fun trying to create them.
His gift to her was a snow globe, which held an exact replica of Hope, their cat, the one that comforted Rachael after her leg injury, helped save John’s life, and disappeared under the house during the loud horseshoes game.
Fireworks illuminated The Treasure Map of 1818 lying on John’s desk, as they learned their gifts were from Chief Morning Star and his family. “He’s given back the fish and dragonfly fossils, to help a dream.”
Magnolia Gardens and manor held secrets, and hearts with different goals.
~ Frontispiece ~
Dedication
This book is lovingly dedicated to my dear Mother and Dad,
Virginia Doris (Jackson) Wendlandt and Allan Lawrence Wendlandt.
Thank you ever so much for the horses and the pleasure they brought, and for giving them a sanctuary! Your hard work farming, in retail and other jobs, volunteering as Girl and Boy Scout leaders, your vision for needed housing, building the apartment we lived in, for building and providing the mobile home park for needed, affordable housing, and for the important work you did on people’s pumps, so that their needed water supply could be quickly restored, was awe-inspiring, and sometimes, someone or something comes into our life, changes everything, and gives us hope and inspiration. May something in this story inspire you and the readers!
Prologue
April 9, 1865 ~ Noise echoed across the beautiful Walnut Valley Meadow, scaring a deer family. John fell into the pastel pink and white clover, unconscious, bleeding. Two nearby infantrymen immediately rushed to his sides and pulled him to safety. One put pressure on his wound, while the other removed his own long, dark socks to create a much needed tourniquet, stopping the flow of blood. John Davis was perhaps, technically, the last wounded man of the war.
Waking up in the infirmary was a nightmare, with sounds from everywhere ~ coughing, crying, choking, screaming, singing, sobbing, and some were laughing. There was also praying. Those prayers reminded him immediately of his dear wife. He closed his eyes and thought of her, certain that she was praying for him just now, and often. She had said she would. Her word was good. He could hardly wait to return home to her and little Lily.
Those pleasant thoughts blocked out the noise, pain, and fear. He smiled and wondered where the letters were she’d written. Hopefully, someone had brought them along for him from camp. He would share no more campfires. Instead, he imagined himself sowing and reaping, becoming an integral part of their community once again. He would host a dinner for their parents, family, friends, and neighbors, and would find great joy in simply tilling the soil and planting, in season, his agricultural offerings for Twelve Ponds Territory. Furthermore, he would help nurture his community with produce from Magnolia Gardens. John knew things would be difficult for awhile, with this injury and the poor economy, yet, eventually he felt, that the country’s financial status and morale would rebound and everything would heal. His community, as well as his country, would pull together, helping one another toward a bright future and world.
“John! You’re here! You’re alive! Glory be! I heard that you had been wounded and were being evacuated to this facility. So, I came.”
Captain John Henry Davis held out his right hand for that long awaited handshake with his best friend.
The American Civil War ~ The War Between The States ~ began April 12, 1861 and ended, technically, when the last shot was fired April 9, 1865, although unfortunate skirmishes between the Union and Confederate armies lasted until June of that year. Weapons were mass produced. The telegraph, railroad, steamboats, hot air balloons for spying, and President Abraham Lincoln’s more extensive balloon corps, were all used in this war for civil rights.
To John’s delight, that familiar voice of welcome warmth which weaned him back from near sleep was none other than Lieutenant Monty Graham, one of his best friends. “We are going home, John. The war is over. We’ll be home by Easter.”
“Monty, that’s such great news. I can’t wait to go home. Yet, compared to the battlefield foes and woes stepping on our toes, this great, huge, helping hospital has been my temporary sanctuary.”
On Bower Farm, there wa
s another story to be told, one which would soon, unexpectedly, congeal with the John Davis story. Here, Grandmother Rachael was row boss. She hired, fired, and inspired, even when tired, for the men had gone off to war. Above all, she was fair. She listened and loved them all, including her granddaughter, Rachael, with a love so favored that it would protect Rachael Hathaway in many ways on many days of her life. This grandchild was her namesake ~ named for her, even before birth. They were very much alike, and worked well together.
In these hard times many family members lived together in one home. From this large, white farmhouse and acreage, they farmed, sold milk, meat, chickens, rabbits, eggs, fruit, produce, firewood, jams, jellies, butter, pickles, clothing they had sewn or embroidered, and beautiful quilts. The Rachaels also created intricate embroidery, while Mother, Aunt Millie, Viola, and Phoebe churned butter and cleaned eggs and vegetables for Merry Market and The Orient Gardens restaurant.
In spring, summer, and autumn, they sold a variety of produce from their bountiful gardens. In fall and early winter, they created garlands, wreaths, or vase arrangements from cones, evergreen branches and boughs, or other colorful or interesting branches and flowers, to sell or give away, to surprise family, friends, and neighbors, and to decorate the home place and the church. Mother taught them to darn, cook, read, spell, write, dip candles, buff eggs, and store produce. Quite often, by candlelight or lamplight, one of them would read to the others, while the rest of the group shelled peas, snapped string beans, or cracked walnuts and hazelnuts. Sometimes, they wrote poetry or stories to read aloud, or they would sing. Grandmother and Aunt Millie especially delighted in telling tales of traditions of the father land, ancestors, and long-held customs, which had been told to them since early childhood. Thus, music, verse, or other forms of the written word would ensure that a merry time was had by all of them.
At other times, they wrote letters to family, friends, father, brother, and cousins, hoping for their loved ones to soon return from war. Perhaps it would be in time to help put crops in this spring, but they’d have to hurry. If not, the women would take on the task once again to save the family farm. They could do it.
Father and son had been gone for a long while, which had at first greatly disrupted family life, with tears a daily reminder. One day, however, Grandmother called a family meeting and asked that they all vow to let someone know if one of them was feeling down. She explained that they could ‘change things’ with a picnic, special reading or project, or an unexpected trip to visit a neighbor or the mercantile, just to celebrate life. She also suggested that upon Father and Robert’s return, the family would make grand dishes and desserts and enjoy one great meal after another. To prepare for that time, they could always take a few moments to plan for those days, and to dream. It would lift their spirits.
Those two men would learn that the cows had calved without them, so their herd had expanded by several head. Shepherd had given them two litters of puppies, while they were away for their purpose. There had been another three darling kittens born, too, plus, the chicken flock had multiplied in number. Bower Farm Gardens had been majestically expanded to become a colorful, outdoor quilt of blooming flowers, some never before seen on their acreage until they were offered at the local feed store nearby. Even some new crops of vegetables and fruit trees had been introduced to the Hathaway farmland or orchard soil.
Happily, Viola, young Rachael’s sister, also had some wonderful news of her own to proclaim, and her new fiancé to present to them, upon their return, just as everyone had expected, for the gentleman neighbor knew Viola’s family well. So, for the Hathaway family, Bower Farm was their sanctuary.
A third story was unfolding in another part of the territory, just like the gorgeous tulips were throughout the farmlands, gardens, in shops and markets, and in and around the dwellings of Velvet Villa Village. One of those homes was known as Magnolia Gardens. In that dining room, the delicate, white lace tablecloth brightened and lightened the room, as John Davis’ grandmothers, Andrea Lightfoot and Hattie Davis, arranged a sparkling, crystal vase full of tulips. His mother, Cloie, fed her granddaughter Lily, their toddler angel. She was sweet, tiny, and cooperative, a great joy to them all.
John’s father and grandfathers made small talk about crops, weather, favorite foods, growing gardens, and raising animals, anything but war. However, they didn’t smile much, except when they looked upon their little granddaughter or their lovely wives. They loved each other. The bond they had all formed was precious beyond words. It was what families do in a crisis ~ they all came together.
Unexpectedly, they had lost Lily’s mother, a devastating blow for the family. Ultimately, the three couples had abruptly moved right into the Magnolia Gardens Manor, becoming surrogate parents, to bring a sense and feeling of well-being, unity, and love back into the baby’s life once again. After all, they could nurture her until John returned, and even after, if need be. They could teach her, watch her grow and learn, speak of her beautiful, young mother and memories they’d made together, which was their way, of dealing with this unbearable grief. They also felt close to John here, near his staff: Miss Callie, Miss Mariah, and Crane.
Together, with Uncle Emery and Cousin Emery stopping in frequently, they would keep things here on an even keel, as best they could. They had to do so for John and Lily. His home had wonderful help they trusted with work on the property and in the household. In the evenings, after baby was snuggled in her bed sound asleep, the group would gather and enjoy discussing her future and John’s, and what each one wanted for her and him. It was then, they found, that they could speak more openly, sharing hopes and dreams. Yet, fears for John’s future had quickly escalated when word came recently that he had been wounded. How severely, they did not know. However, their support for him never wavered in their hearts, minds, or deeds. Sometimes they wondered out loud if true merriment would ever again return to grace these halls. It was their fervent prayer that it would, someday. But first, they would have to break the sad news to John when he did return home, for they were not about to put that into a letter to him. Silently, they each wondered how he would accept the fact, and how soon would that be?
For now, they could not go home, and didn’t even want to, although their home places were conveniently nearby. Instead, they planned to keep this place a home, and life as normal as possible for baby Lily, as well as themselves, quiet and restful, with familiar things around their sweet grandchild. In the meantime, while the women kept busy, the men often eagerly joined butler Crane in planting early peas, onions, lettuce, and other greens, so John would have an income when he did return, plus, they delighted in visiting and feeding his horses, a special gift to the couple. So, during this springtime, Magnolia Gardens and their delightful Lily had both unexpectedly become their sanctuary.
Part One
Chapter One
April 1865 ~ Magnolia Gardens and manor held secrets, and hearts with different goals. Rachael Hathaway would soon learn that after she joined the Davis household staff today. For now, though, she was fidgety from this journey, and longed to stand, stretch her legs, reaching arms and fingers toward the baby blue sky. She laughed at herself for taking this job, while wondering what intrigue was here. Pondering on the bright side of things, she was thankful for sights seen on this journey: glimpses of little rabbits scampering in the tall, rippling, meadow grasses, calves happily kicking up their heels in spring-green fields, reminding her of home, lambs close to their mothers, which put to mind her family, birds on the wing, and springtime blossoms. Even nests high in the poplars, willows, and oaks seemed to be hints of the excitement and promise ahead, for with this new endeavor of becoming a nanny, a new era was unfolding for Rachael and the nation. The Civil War had ended.
Gorgeous wildflowers seen along the roadsides brightened the day, too. “I vow to plant more flowers and scatter the seeds collected on this venture, and perhaps mail some home to surprise the fami
ly,” Rachael whispered to herself. Lovely rose-colored hollyhocks blooming early just outside the lunch café door at Bower Station and at some coach stops along the way, had so inspired her that she had taken the time to procure some of last year’s dry seedpods. With a keen eye, she not only pinched them from the stems, she also stooped to take possession of those scattered on the ground at the base of the plants.
Writing home about the interesting landscapes, flowers, snow-capped mountains, and various animals and birds along the way entered her mind now. People she’d met and spoken to at lunch had been fascinating, informative, and friendly. The conversations with them, plus her reports on this employment opportunity and experiences would make for full letters to her loved ones. For this job, she was most thankful, and it did wonders for her morale.
At once, her thoughts were interrupted when the driver called, “Here we are, Miss Hathaway!” Rounding a bend, there it stood, along with her employer, John Davis. He was poised in a half circle driveway rimmed with flowerbeds, in front of his home, just shortly after being released from Mercy Hospital and coming by the farm to hire one of the young Hathaway women. Somehow, someone had told the gentleman that the three sisters were wishing to acquire work, and somehow she had been chosen. But at this particular time, she wished it had been Phoebe.
The surroundings and his home made a very peaceful setting. Still, it wasn’t the family farm. Yet, the excited nanny would now meet her host family and learn about that certain painful look upon the landowner’s cross face, and just exactly how stern he really was, and also about his beloved horses he’d mentioned in their first meeting.
His carriage came to a halt. He stepped forward. Rachael immediately noticed a limp. But, before she could consider it any further, he stumbled. Catching himself, so a fall would not occur, he straightened his posture once again. In order not to embarrass her employer, she quickly turned to gathering belongings on the seat, a matching tapestry handbag and satchel, with their delicate floral pattern, handmade by family members as a surprise going away gift for this trip, shortly before departure. Deftly, she also lifted the embroidery bag on the floor at her feet and a bit of leftover lunch in the snack bag.