By the time you and she arrived back in Pittsburgh, the war was over. Sarah was heartbroken when she learned your father had been killed at Cold Harbor and angry at me for not telling her. We fought, and she left the house only to die in the carriage accident.
I had nothing left of my daughter but you, and afraid the Kirbys would come and take you away, I decided to make sure you never knew about your father’s family. I destroyed the marriage certificate and Tobias Kirby’s effects the Union Army sent me and told you the same story I told everyone else.
As time went on, I could not remain at peace with what I had done, and yet I could not find the courage to tell you the truth. I have since learned the Kirbys are good people, people I should not have been ashamed to call my relations. I am ashamed of my actions, and I can only pray that you, they, and God can forgive me.
I remain your loving grandfather,
Hiram C. McCord
A second sheet of paper listed the address of the Kirby farm in Delaware. Peter let them both fall to the floor as he lifted incredulous eyes to the professor, who now stood beside his brother in front of the mantel. “This is why you had to find out who I was?” he asked.
The professor nodded. “Toby was our brother,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “When Jonah and I left to fight the war, he was supposed to have stayed behind at the farm to help Ma run the farm. But he always was a headstrong young man. I guess the call to serve wouldn’t leave him alone, and he ran off and joined up. Why he went clear to Pennsylvania, I guess we’ll never know.”
Peter stood up and walked over to them. “But what made you think I was his son?”
“Your eyes,” the professor replied. “You woke up and looked at me with those eyes of yours.”
Confused, Peter looked from him to his brother. Both of them gazed steadily at him, and that was when he saw it—two sets of eyes exactly like his own, as green as a spring meadow.
“I wasn’t positive until I finally got you to shave that beard of yours,” Dr. Kirby said.
“You look just like him,” Mr. Kirby added.
The two embraced him, and Peter felt awestruck that of all the people he could have come across during his days of wandering, the Lord led him to his own family and restored him to them. Dr. Kirby—Uncle Daniel—pulled away and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “There is one more thing you’re forgetting,” he said, nodding toward where Anne sat on the sofa.
Peter started then looked at Jonah. He smiled. “It’s not like you’re related by blood,” he said quietly.
Swallowing, he looked at Anne. She stared at him with saucer-like eyes. Spying the velvet box that contained his mother’s pearls lying on the sofa next to her, he picked them up and sat down facing her. He opened the box, revealing the pearls.
“These belonged to my mother,” Peter said. “I’d be very happy if you wore them on our wedding day.”
He saw the shock in her eyes for only a moment before she fled the room.
Anne shut herself in the sitting room. The news of Peter’s wealth and his true identity had been startling enough, but his proposal left her completely undone. Ever since they’d kissed, she’d fought between running straight into Peter’s arms and telling him everything to leaving in the middle of the night. She shook her head, trying to clear it, and as she did so, the doors to the sitting room opened and Peter walked in. He shut them and flashed her one of his most roguish smiles.
“You left before answering my question.”
Anne stared at him. “I can’t marry you, Peter. I can’t marry anyone.”
He took her by the arms. “That’s ridiculous. Of course you can. You can marry me.”
“No, my father—”
“I told you I don’t care about his condition.”
“You should.” Anne pulled away and stood by the window, her back to him. “He’s not just lost his senses, Peter. He’s a murderer.” She held her breath, waiting for the sound of the sitting room doors opening and Peter walking out the front door.
“I know.”
She whirled around, certain she hadn’t heard right. “You know? But—but how?”
He walked over to her. Reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, he pulled out two letters and held them up in front of her. “I found these in Spice’s stall.”
She stared at the letters then took them from his hand. With everything that had happened, she’d never realized they were gone.
“I showed them to Uncle Daniel, and he told me everything. Your father wasn’t in his right mind when he killed your mother and your pa’s neighbor.” He pulled her into his arms. “You’ve been running down the wrong path, Anne. God wants to lead you to green pastures and beside still waters. And if you search your heart, I think you’ll find me right there alongside you.”
Anne thought she couldn’t stand the joy she felt as she finally let into her heart what God had been trying to tell her for so long. But it was quickly tempered by her next thought, and she raised apprehensive eyes to his.
“What if someone finds out about my father?”
His face hardened a little. “No one is going to find out. I’ll bankrupt McCord Steel if I have to.”
The relief she felt was so intense she laid her head on his chest.
“So you’ll marry me?” he whispered into her hair.
Anne raised her head. Unable to resist, she gave him a roguish smile of her own. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into? I can’t cook, I can’t sew, and I’d rather be in a stable than the kitchen—”
Anne’s words were stopped by a kiss that she returned fully with a restored heart.
Author’s Note
Scioto’s care and treatment mentioned in these pages is drawn from Magner’s Classic Encyclopedia of the Horse, originally published in 1887. I apologize for any errors made regarding horse care in the nineteenth century. It was purely unintentional.
At the time of this story, what most Ohio State students and alumni now call University Hall was known as the Main Building, and Mirror Lake was simply called “the Lake.” To see the dramatic changes that have taken place on the university campus from 1871 to the present, I encourage you to visit The Ohio State University Interactive Historical Campus Map at knowlton.osu.edu/historymap as well as the John H. Herrick Archives at herrick.knowlton.ohio-state.edu.
O–H–I–O!
About the Author
Jennifer A. Davids loves a good book. Not only does she read and write them, she gets to take care of them at her part-time evening job at her local library. She resides in central Ohio with her husband and two children, is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and a graduate of The Ohio State University. She makes room to write in between being a busy wife and mom and despite the fact her cats like to walk on her keyboard. You can connect with her online at www.jenniferadavids.com
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