Isabelle looked across the table to Aaron and laughed, holding her hands out in surrender. He added his laughter, then plucked their little son, Reggie, from his high chair. “I’ll direct in the kitchen. You head to the parlor and monitor from that end,” he said as he strode after the children.
Maelle and Lorna rose and began helping Mrs. Leidig clear the table, but Matt curled his hand around Lorna’s elbow. “No work for you, soon-to-be mama. You go on to the parlor and supervise the decoratin’. I’ll help with the clearin’ off.” Lorna offered a mild protest, but Matt hushed her with a kiss.
Although Libby knew she shouldn’t watch their display of affection, she couldn’t seem to look away. Love spilled from every corner—between Maelle and Jackson, Matt and Lorna, Aaron and Isabelle, and even Petey and his family. Her heart expanded, happiness filling her so completely she thought her chest might burst. What joy to be in the midst of this wonderful throng!
Eager to join the others in decorating the tree, she reached for her plate. But she felt a warm hand rest on her shoulder, stopping her. She glanced up to find Petey standing behind her, grinning. Her pulse immediately quickened just having him near. She started to ask what he wanted, but he lifted his finger to his lips, and she held the question inside.
Without a word, he slid his hand down her arm until he found her fingers. Linking hands with her, he led her around the corner and down the hallway, drawing her into the small cubby beneath the stairs, out of everyone’s sight.
He leaned into the corner, ducking slightly to avoid the sloping ceiling above. “Ah, quiet . . .”
Libby could have argued with him. Varying sounds carried from other parts of the school—children’s voices from the parlor, dishes clanking together in the kitchen, Isabelle’s confident voice offering directions on placing ornaments on the tree. But then she looked into Petey’s dear blue eyes, and those sounds faded into the background. The shadowy niche, even though far from idyllic, became a refuge of intimacy.
He still held her hand, and she curled her fingers more snugly around his. He offered a slight squeeze in return before releasing her to reach into his pocket. “I have something for you.”
His voice, low and husky, sent a tremor of delight down Libby’s spine. An eager giggle escaped her throat. Although he’d been a perfect gentleman for the past weeks, not stealing so much as a kiss on her cheek, she hoped he might take advantage of their solitude and gift her with a kiss on her lips. Tipping her head, she offered a teasing smile. “But Christmas isn’t until tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow others will be around. And this gift is . . .” He crinkled his brow for a moment, seeming to search for an appropriate word. With a sigh, he ended with, “Personal.”
Perhaps he did intend to kiss her. Unconsciously, she swayed toward him. His hand lifted from his pocket, and he held a small box on his open palm. Libby jolted back slightly to peer at the box. Formed of wood with a hinged top, it appeared scarred, as if the finish had been rubbed away over years of use.
“Merry Christmas, Libby.”
Something sweet and yearning wound around Libby’s heart at his tender tone. Her gaze lifted to meet his. “What is it?”
He gave his palm a slight bounce, enticing her to reach for it. “Look and see.”
With slow, deliberate movements, allowing anticipation to build within her breast, she reached for the box. Her fingers trembled as she popped the lid, and she released a gasp of surprise. Who would have expected such a worn-looking box to contain such a bright treasure?
Pressing her hands to her wildly beating heart, she gaped at Petey. “Oh! It . . . it’s beautiful!”
He lifted the brooch from its nest of threadbare black silk. The scant light reaching from the hallway lamps glinted on the red-faceted stones, casting a rosy glow on the inside edge of the pearls that circled the center cluster. He slipped the empty box into his pocket and reached for the rounded collar of her dress. His knuckles brushed her collarbone, sending a prickle of awareness down her spine as he fastened the brooch into place. Libby automatically shifted her hand, fingering the stones by turn. With the brooch pinned almost beneath her chin, she couldn’t see it, but she easily distinguished the pearls from the red gemstones.
He stood gazing down at the brooch. “It looks perfect there. I knew it would.”
Libby took in a deep breath, willing her galloping heart to slow. “Petey, I’ve never seen anything more lovely. But where . . . ? What . . . ?” Her tongue seemed incapable of forming sentences. Never would she have imagined receiving such an elaborate gift.
He leaned against the wall and smiled at her, his peg leg softly tap-tapping against the planked floor. “The brooch is made of pearls and rubies. Ma told me my grandfather gave it to my grandmother on their wedding day. Then my grandmother gave it to Ma when she married my father. And now . . .”
Libby touched the brooch lightly with her fingertips, imagining the generations of women who’d worn this brooch before her. She shook her head slightly. “Petey, you should keep this. It belongs in your family.”
He shifted, his body angling toward hers until his face was mere inches away. “If you have it, it will be in my family. Because I’m asking you to accept it as an engagement brooch.”
Might she be dreaming? She pinched her wrist. The sharp pain let her know she was very much awake. She met his unblinking, serious gaze. “Engagement brooch?”
He offered a slow nod. “Yes. We shouldn’t marry yet. Not until we’re finished with school. But I know I love you. I know I want you to be a part of the rest of my life—a part of my ministry, a part of my heart . . .” Suddenly he paused, his brow furrowing. “Am I assuming? This past month . . . meeting every day to pray together, and to talk. My love for you has grown deeper. I can’t imagine myself without you. But if you—”
She grabbed his hands and clung hard. Sweet memories of past moments—when laughter rang, when tears pricked, when their hearts united in prayer for Bennett—rose up and swirled through her mind, almost making her dizzy. She’d shared so much with Petey. She couldn’t imagine herself without him. “I feel the same way. I love you. And I’d like nothing more than to pledge myself to you.”
She rose up on tiptoe as his arms slipped around her waist, drawing her near. Their lips met, and she was surprised by the salty taste. She hadn’t even realized she was crying—joyous tears of homecoming. Nestling close to Petey, she felt as though a little puzzle piece slid into its place in the picture of her life.
From the parlor, a melody wafted—children’s voices joining in song. Libby tipped her head toward the sound, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Ever since Libby had come to the orphanage, Isabelle had led the children in Christmas hymns before sending them to bed on Christmas Eve. Although she wanted nothing more than to remain in Petey’s arms forever, she knew they should join the others.
He must have had the same thought, because he gently removed her from his embrace. “They’re singing. We need to go.”
She nodded, and he took her hand. Together they moved down the hallway to the parlor, where they paused in the wide doorway. The children sat on the floor, clustered around the towering tree weighted with glimmering glass balls, paper chains, and childish cutouts of stars and gingerbread men. The tip of the tree brushed the ceiling, its bent top branch seeming to peer down at the gathered singers.
Libby stood in silence, listening to the children sing, with her hand secure within Petey’s grasp. Her gaze drifted slowly around the room, the images burning into her mind: Isabelle and Aaron at the fireplace, little Reggie drowsing on Aaron’s shoulder, and Rebecca and Constance leaning against Isabelle’s skirts; Maelle and Jackson scrunched on the settee with Hannah and Hester pressed between them; Matt and Lorna sharing the old rocker, Matt’s arms encircling Lorna’s waist and Lorna’s arm crooked behind his neck, her fingers in his hair; Petey’s mother perched on a straight-backed chair with Lorenzo and Dennis at her knees and Elma, Wendell, and
Orel surrounding her. Peaceful expressions on every face.
A lump formed in her throat, bringing a fresh rush of happy tears. She loved every person gathered here. Her fingers tightened, and Petey’s pressed hers in response. Warmth and contentedness filled her so thoroughly she wondered how she could contain the feelings without bursting.
Maelle’s face shifted, her gaze meeting Libby’s from across the room. Libby touched the brooch, and Maelle’s eyes followed the movement of her hand. A knowing smile lifted the corners of her lips, and she winked at Libby. Libby smiled in reply, their communication complete although absent of words.
Eager to see whether Petey had glimpsed the blessing in Maelle’s eyes, she looked up at him. The glimmer in his eyes told her he’d seen and was as touched as she by Maelle’s approval. Without a word, he slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her against his length. She folded her arms over the tops of his, discovering they fit perfectly together. He dipped his head to rest his chin on her hair and sighed contentedly.
Libby closed her eyes and allowed her other senses to soak up every detail of the moment—the warmth of Petey’s embrace, the gentle pressure of his chin at her temple, the sweet voices of the children singing “Silent Night,” the mingled scent of pine from the freshly cut tree and smoke from the fireplace. Later, she would want to recall the unique serenade that heralded her heart finding its place of peace and belonging. Perhaps she would write of it so it was captured forever. But for now, it was enough to rest blissfully in Petey’s arms.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my family: Mom and Daddy, Don, my sweet girls—this writing life has taken me in directions none of us could have foreseen, but you walk alongside me, sharing in this ministry. Thank you for your support and for being proud of me.
To my critiquers: Eileen, Connie, Margie, Judy, Ramona, and Donna— thank you for your suggestions, but mostly for your prayers and friendship. I’m glad we’re in this together!
To Grant Bumgarner—thank you for openly sharing your experiences as a “one-legged man” with me. Your honesty helped me delve deep into Petey’s character and feel as though I truly knew him.
To Deena Sawyer, my sister-in-law but also my friend—your encouragement is always perfectly timed. Sure do love you!
To Charlene and the staff at Bethany House—I’m so blessed to work with people who share my passion for creating stories of God’s love and grace. Thank you for everything you do.
Finally, and most importantly, to God—You have proved the truth of Jeremiah 29:11–13 to me. You are found by all who seek You, and Your plans are always better than our own. Thank You for blessing me abundantly, exceedingly, and beyond all I could have hoped or imagined. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.
KIM VOGEL SAWYER is the author of sixteen novels, including many CBA and ECPA bestsellers. Her books have won the ACFW Book of the Year Award, the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and the Inspirational Readers Choice Award. Kim is active in her church, where she leads women’s fellowship 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 Kansas, and have three daughters and six grandchildren. She invites you to visit her Web site at www.kimvogelsawyer.com for more information.
Table of Contents
COVER PAGE
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
DEDICATION
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
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
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
In Every Heartbeat Page 31
