Jonah watched as Adele looked up at him. “Thank you.”
He paused then turned to his bag, which sat open on the table.
She opened her mouth to say something else when Will and the sheriff came in the door.
“What did you find?” Jonah asked as they sat down at the table.
“More than I thought we would,” Sheriff Wade said. He pulled a picture and a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He opened the paper. “According to this, his name is Robert Wells and he’s from Butler County.”
“That is close to Cincinnati, is it not?” Adele asked.
Jonah nodded as he took the paper from the sheriff. The large half circle of text reading, “To all whom it may concern,” surrounding an eagle, was very familiar to him. He’d received a similar document when he’d been mustered out after his release from Andersonville. A wave of compassion swept over him. The paper stated Robert Wells had been a farmer. The reason for his discharge in 1863 was vague. It only stated that his “services were no longer required.”
“Here’s why he thought he recognized Mrs. Kirby,” the sheriff said, handing him the picture.
Adele gasped when she looked at it, and Jonah almost did himself. The woman in the picture could almost have been her twin. Taking it from him, she flipped it over. The only thing it said on the back was “Deborah, 1861.” “Do you think this was his wife?” she asked.
“We found a wedding ring with that woman’s remains,” the sheriff replied.
“And Anne called her Ma,” Jonah said.
“But why would he kill her?” Adele turned the picture back over and looked at it.
“My best guess is his mind snapped.” They all turned to Dr. Kelly, who had finished with Jonah. Having bandaged his hand and settled his arm in a sling, the doctor was slowly putting things back in his case. “He thought himself still at war and took his poor wife and child along with him, thinking they were fellow soldiers marching to battle. She probably tried to get her child away from his madness, and he ended up killing her.”
“No wonder little Anne took to you so easily, Mrs. Kirby, and all the while fearful of us,” Will said.
“What should we do about her, Cal?” Jonah asked. “Adele and I would like to keep her.”
“I’d say that’s the best thing for her for now,” he replied. “But I’ll have to talk to the authorities down in Butler County. She might have relatives looking for her.”
Adele nodded and looked at Jonah with hopeful eyes. He squeezed her hand.
The sheriff rose from his seat. “Well, I need to be getting back. I’d like to get Mr. Wells over to Delaware before dark.” He shook Jonah’s hand, and nodding to Adele, he took his hat from the table and looked at the doctor. “I’ll be waiting out near your buggy.”
“I’ll see to everything the rest of the day, Mr. Kirby,” Will said, rising from the table.
“Did Cyrus go home?” Jonah asked.
Will shook his head. “He insisted he was just fine. Wouldn’t even let the doctor look at him.”
“I’ll go out to his place later,” Dr. Kelly said.
Will reached for the doctor’s bag. “Shall I carry that out for you?”
He handed it to the young man and took hold of his cane. “Yes, Will. Thank you.”
He started for the door, but Jonah rose and blocked his way. He looked at Will. “Carry his bag out to the buggy. The doctor will be along in a minute.” The young man left, and Jonah looked at Dr. Kelly, who avoided his gaze. Jonah offered him his hand. “Thank you.”
The doctor didn’t take it. “I don’t know anyone who deserves to be thanked less,” he said quietly.
“You saved my life,” Jonah replied.
“I almost ruined your life,” Dr. Kelly said, finally looking at him.
Jonah lowered his hand.
“I tried to have you committed. Then I coveted your wife and allowed my feelings for her to lead me to accuse you of a very heinous crime. I behaved in the most un-Christian manner imaginable, and I do not deserve your thanks or your forgiveness.”
“The Lord commands me to forgive my brother seventy times seven times,” Jonah said. He gave him a half smile. “Let’s just say you have a ways to go.” He offered his hand again.
This time the doctor took it. “I don’t want to keep the sheriff waiting. And I have some packing to do.” He moved past them and took his hat from the hall tree.
“What do you mean?” Adele asked.
“I can’t stay here,” he said. “After I help the sheriff take Mr. Wells down to Dr. Peck in Columbus, I’m going to leave. I think I might head back to Philadelphia.” He struggled with his coat, and Adele went and helped him put it on.
“Please feel free to write and tell us how you are,” she said, stepping back.
Dr. Kelly looked at both of them for a long moment. “I might in time. Good-bye.”
He walked out of the house, and Adele stepped to the window to watch him drive away. She turned back to Jonah with sad eyes. “He was a good friend before all this. I wish you both could have met differently.”
“I hope he writes,” Jonah said quietly. “Maybe we could start over.” Adele smiled, and he suddenly couldn’t stand being away from her any longer. He wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her to him, acutely aware of how close he had come to losing her. “That was a reckless thing you did today,” he said. “Coming after me like that and then refusing to leave.”
She looked up at him. “You were in trouble. I could not help myself this afternoon any more than I could so many months ago when I asked you to marry me.”
“It doesn’t seem fair, you asking me.”
“So ask me.”
Jonah looked down at her, wondering at the impish gleam in her brilliant blue eyes. “Adele, will you marry me?”
“No,” she said, smiling at the surprise in his eyes. “I already did.”
He answered her refusal with a kiss.
Epilogue
December 24, 1866
I still say the Weihnachtsbaum is too tall,” Adele said as she and Jonah sat in the parlor. She sat on the high-backed sofa sewing while Jonah sat beside her reading the Delaware Gazette.
He lowered the newspaper and looked at the fir tree that stood in the corner next to the fireplace. “I cut three feet off it before I brought it in,” he said.
“And then you had to take it back out and cut off another two feet more.” She glanced over at him and caught the sheepish look on his face just as the newspaper hid his face from view.
Adele smiled. When she had first suggested they have a Weihnachtsbaum, or Christmas tree, Jonah had been all for it. As she was growing up, she and Erich had always had one, and when the Kirby boys had seen it, they begged their parents to start the tradition. Unfortunately, while not being critical of the Brauns’ custom, Jonah’s parents had not felt the need for one and had gently but firmly adhered to their own custom of putting up stockings on the fireplace mantel.
“When do we light the candles?” Jonah asked. He had finished his newspaper and gotten up to take a closer look at the tree.
Adele rose and joined him. “Erich and I always lit them on Christmas Day in the evening. Then we sang carols.”
“Erich sang?” he asked with raised eyebrows. Erich Braun had not been known in the township as the best singer. In church he was often relegated to the end of whatever pew he happened to sit in.
“Yes, but I helped,” Adele giggled. She looked back at the tree and pursed her lips as she looked at all the presents he had stacked under it. “I knew you cut off those branches at the bottom for a reason. Jonah Michael Kirby, you will spoil that little girl.”
“But it’s Anne’s first Christmas with us,” he said, smiling as he wrapped his arm around her waist. “You want it to be as special as I do.”
She had to admit he was right.
Two months ago, Sheriff Wade had personally come to tell them that no relatives could be found for the
little girl. The Butler County sheriff talked to neighbors who confirmed the Wells family had disappeared at the end of last year. They also told him that Robert and Deborah had moved to the county just a few years before the war and that they had no idea where they had originally come from or if they had any living relatives. So Adele and Jonah had adopted the child, signing the papers only yesterday that officially made her Anne Kirby.
But even so, Adele still didn’t think it was cause for overdoing it. She turned her head to give her husband a reproachful look. “There are other ways to make the day special besides presents.”
“Not all of these are from me,” he pointed out. “The little wooden ark is from Will and Clara, and Jake whittled the animals to go with it. Daniel and Katherine sent her the books, and Aunt Mary and Professor Harris—”
“Uncle James,” Adele corrected. Mary and the professor had married just before Thanksgiving.
“They sent her the new dress, and Cyrus gave her the little fur muff.” Anne had finally warmed to Cyrus, and he decided to make his stay in Ostrander permanent by renting some of the land Ben Carr had given to Jonah.
Adele pointed under the tree. “And that?”
“That’s my present,” he said with satisfaction.
“Why does a three-year-old girl need a crib big enough for a real baby?”
“Well, she does have two dolls.”
Adele couldn’t hold back any longer and laughed along with her husband. She turned in his arms and hugged him tightly. Raising her head, she looked in his green eyes, which were as dark and beautiful as the fir tree beside them.
Sometimes as they talked or while they ate dinner, he would wander back to a dark memory and grow a little distant. And while he no longer walked or took his gun everywhere with him, he did clean it nearly every night and kept it handy by the front door. He would never be exactly as he was before the war, but what he was now was more than enough for her.
A gentle smile drifted across his lips, and he tucked back a stray strand of her hair before kissing her with a passion that left her dizzy.
Almost too dizzy. She laid her head on his shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked, rubbing her back.
“I am tired. I should sit down.”
He led her over to the sofa and looked at her as she resumed her sewing. “You’ve been tired quite a bit lately.”
She glanced at him. She had wanted to wait until tomorrow to tell him. “I have been working on a present for you.”
“For me?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
“Yes. But I cannot give it to you tomorrow.”
“Why?”
Adele looked at him and bit her lip before answering. “It will not be here for another six months.”
He stared at her a full minute before a smile crept onto his face and his eyes started to glow. He gently hugged her. “I love you.”
“And I love you. Merry Christmas.”
Restored Heart
Dedication
Thanks to everyone who has been praying for me, and a big thanks to Max Lucado. Your books and UpWords helped me through this book in so many ways. This book is dedicated to Brian Arthur Carmen, my dear brother in Christ, fellow alumni of The Ohio State University, and i-dotter for the OSU marching band. I look forward to heaven, when your presence will finally be restored to me.
Chapter 1
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania May, 1884
I can assure you, Peter, I’m just as surprised as you.”
Peter McCord stared at his uncle. Two months ago, he was the most eligible bachelor in Pittsburgh society and the apple of his grandfather’s eye. One month ago found him keeping vigil at the old man’s bedside. A week ago, he watched as Granddad was laid to rest, and less than a minute ago, the words he’d just heard uttered left him speechless.
“There must be some mistake,” he said, finally finding his voice. “Let me see the will.”
Randall McCord rose from his seat behind the heavy walnut desk and handed the document to him. Peter took it and, rising from one of the leather chairs, crossed his grandfather’s wood-paneled study to the window. He felt the blood leave his face as he took in Granddad’s final words. He’d been left nothing, absolutely nothing. Peter’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand,” he muttered.
“I realize after my misunderstanding with my father you imagined he would leave everything to you—”
“Misunderstanding?” Peter locked eyes with his uncle. “I would hardly call nearly ruining everything Granddad worked for a ‘misunderstanding’!” His uncle’s eyes narrowed, and Peter knew he’d struck a nerve. Uncle Randall’s heavy-handed ways had almost run McCord Steel and Ironworks into the ground. The mill had lost a great deal of money and the workers had come close to rioting. Granddad had been beside himself with anger; so much so, he cut off his only son. “In light of that fact,” Peter continued, “I’m the most logical choice as heir in spite of the fact that my interests lay elsewhere.”
“Oh yes, your interests,” his cousin Edward drawled, leaning against the bookcase behind his father. “Horse racing and chasing after every attractive young lady in the city.”
“At least I have them to chase,” Peter shot back. With his strong, handsome face, chocolate-brown hair, and—as Granddad used to say—eyes greener than a spring meadow, Pittsburgh’s eligible young ladies were more than willing quarry. Of course, being Hiram McCord’s heir didn’t hurt either. “Tell me, how are your marriage prospects?”
A slow, smug smile grew over his cousin’s face. “Much improved now that I’m heir of McCord Steel and you’re—”
“That’s enough.” Uncle Randall glanced sharply at his son. “Peter, what exactly did you expect? Considering your disastrous time at Princeton—”
“I did graduate,” Peter snapped, rereading the will carefully.
“Barely. You spent more time at the racetracks than attending to your studies. I’m sure my father realized you couldn’t possibly oversee his fortune.”
“Granddad knew I wouldn’t run the mill like he did. He knew I had every intention of hiring the best possible man to oversee its operation.”
“While you exhaust the McCord fortune on horses, I suppose.”
“Granddad approved of my interest in horses. It was his idea to buy the farm in Ligonier—”
“Then why didn’t he leave you even the smallest stipend to keep the farm running?”
Ignoring the question, Peter strode over to his uncle. “Granddad couldn’t have left everything to you. He wouldn’t have.” He shook the document. “This can’t possibly be the correct will. It must be an older version.”
“It’s the correct one, Peter,” Edward said. “Didn’t you check the date?”
Peter looked at the will again. It had been signed a little over a year ago. He put his hand over his eyes. What could he have done over the past year to cause his grandfather to do this? Why hadn’t he at least warned him? Peter stiffened. That last night, before Granddad slipped away in his sleep, the old man had begged for his understanding when the will was read. Peter had thought it was the laudanum talking. He felt a hand on his shoulder. His uncle had risen from his seat and now stood next to him.
“It was my father’s last wish that you be taken care of, and it is one I intend to honor,” he said, his hand turning viselike.
Peter shook free, handed the will to his uncle, and walked to the door. “I’ll take care of myself, thank you, Uncle Randall.”
“And how will you manage to do that, may I ask?”
Peter turned. His uncle resumed his seat behind the desk.
“You’ve been left with nothing. Not even the smallest sum of money.” Peter remained silent and he continued. “As I said, I am willing to support you, but there will be a few conditions.”
“And those would be?”
“It’s high time you used that education my father paid for. I assume you learned something in spite of your horrendous marks.” His u
ncle’s eyes narrowed keenly. “You will come to work for me at the mill and earn your keep for a change.”
Peter smiled humorlessly and shook his head.
“My thanks for the offer, Uncle, but I have a very promising colt that will be ready to race soon. I think I’ll take my chances with him. In the meantime, I’m sure Henry won’t mind me staying with him.” Peter knew he and his horse trainer would think of something to keep the farm running. Sell off a few mares perhaps—His uncle’s voice stopped him in midthought.
“You could, if the farm still belonged to you.”
Peter felt the blood leave his face. “What do you mean?”
“Despite the fact he bought it for you, it seems the farm is still in my father’s name. Not yours. Therefore, it now belongs to me. I intend on dismissing Henry Farley and selling off the animals as quickly as possible.”
Peter tried to digest what he’d just heard as his uncle moved swiftly on. “The other condition concerns Miss Leticia Jamison.”
He looked at his uncle blankly. Leticia—Letty—was the daughter of his grandfather’s lawyer, Simon Jamison. “What about her?”
“A month or so ago, you and she were invited to the club as guests of Mr. and Mrs. Braddock, were you not?”
“Yes.” Nearly every young person of his acquaintance had been invited. Hazel Braddock had recently become engaged, and her parents arranged a sort of extended engagement party at the hunting and fishing club on Lake Conemaugh. Even as sick as he was, Granddad had insisted he go, eager for his grandson to make a match. Peter had been delighted to mingle with some fine young ladies from Harrisburg there, and even now, he couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their charms. They had all but fallen over themselves, vying for his attention. How could they not? Uncle Randall cleared his throat and Peter blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“I said, what exactly happened between you and Miss Jamison?” Uncle Randall asked.
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