“And what is the town like?”
He pictured Boston and its vast, bustling expanse. Daphne was in for a surprise. “Small, very quiet. But it has everything we need—a butcher, a dry goods, a telegraph office for me to send and receive information. With that check your father gave us as a wedding gift, I’ll be able to rent a space and purchase a small printing press to get our newspaper started.”
Thomas still marveled at Mr. Severt’s change in attitude concerning Daphne’s dowry. The unexpected check, added to his savings, would insure an easier start to their lives together.
“So Hillsboro will have two newspapers,” Daphne mused.
“Well, Hillsboro has two hotels.” He winked, then changed the subject. “Do you think you’ll mind me smelling like heena— like chickens?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Is it worse than your current odor?”
He laughed. “Probably.” Sobering, he added, “It means a lot to my pa to have my help getting his farm started. And I know it will take a while for my newspaper readership to build, so working together with the chicken farm makes sense for both of us.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Daphne replied, smoothing her skirts over her knees, “and I shall do whatever I can to help, even if it means smelling like chickens.” A grin twitched her cheek. “My mother would be mortified by what I just said!”
“Are you missing your family?”
Her face clouded. “Yes.” She grasped his hands, holding tight. “But you’re my family now. Besides, Harry and Mother both promised to write every week, and Harry even said he wanted to start going to church with Mrs. Steadman to learn about the Bible.”
Gratitude welled up in Thomas. Harry’s attitude had changed following Clarence’s heroic rescue of Daphne. Thomas and Daphne had committed to praying that, with Clarence and Nadine’s influence, Harry would come to a knowledge of Jesus as Savior. They also prayed daily for Daphne’s parents. Thomas sensed Mr. Severt would be the hardest to reach, but he would be more likely to listen to Harry than anyone else. They wouldn’t give up hope.
Outside the window, daylight faded, bathing the plains in a rosy hue. The sky bore streaks of pink and yellow with purple clouds hovering on the horizon. Daphne sat up and gazed out the window, seeming to absorb the scene. “It’s so beautiful, Thomas.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, looking at her enthralled expression.
“How much longer until we’re there?”
He glanced at his pocket watch. “About two more hours, and we’ll be home.”
The train swayed along the track, the steady clack-clack measuring the miles that brought them closer and closer to Hillsboro. Closer and closer to their future. Daphne relaxed in his arms, her eyes closed, her cheek against his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and then rested his chin on her silky hair. From within her nesting spot, she whispered, “I’m so happy, Thomas.”
He nodded in agreement, Happy . . . and blessed. He had everything his heart had long desired: faith, family, and a place to belong. Pressing another kiss on his wife’s hair, he whispered, “Welcome home.”
Acknowledgments
Don, Mom and Daddy, my precious girls: Thank you for sharing this journey with me. I love you all muchly!
Ramona, Eileen, Margie, Darlene, and Donna: You’re terrific critters—thank you! And Ramona, you went over and above on this one . . . bless your heart!
Connie, Kathy, Cynthia, Carla, Rose, Phil, First Southern Choir: Your prayers and endless support are an incredible blessing to me. May God repay you in kind.
My soul sister Kathy: The refreshment of our laughter provided the impetus I needed to bring Thomas’s story to a close. Your timing was perfect, as always. Love you!
Irv Schroeder and Mrs. Warkentine: Special thanks for the Plautdietsch translations. Ekj räakjne jie—I appreciate you!
Charlene and the wonderful people at Bethany House: Thank you for the opportunity to live out my childhood dream. And thanks especially for this story—revisiting Gaeddert and these characters was like going home.
Most importantly, thank You, God. You have blessed me beyond the scope of imagination. Every day with You is a joyous adventure—thank You for your immeasurable love. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.
KIM VOGEL SAWYER is fond of C words like children, cats, and chocolate. She is the author of eleven novels, including the bestsellers Waiting for Summer’s Return and My Heart Remembers. She is active in her church, where she teaches adult Sunday School and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in central Kansas and have three daughters and six grandchildren.
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Where the Heart Leads Page 29
