Engraved on the Heart

by Tara Johnson

  “Feeling at loose ends?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Ma continued to fan her red cheeks. “Understandable, considering all you’ve been through. You missing home?”

  Was she? Not much. “No, not really. Not with Nathaniel’s rage or Jennie’s betrayal. I don’t miss Mother’s constant worrying, but I hate that I hurt her so deeply.” Her shoulders sagged.

  “Things may be different between you all one day. Perhaps after the war is over.”

  “Perhaps.” Keziah turned back to shaving soap into the washtub. Maybe she was missing the thrill of conducting, an activity that had been at a standstill for the past two months. Brothers had warned them he was being watched and would have to suspend all Railroad work for the time being. Eventually, he promised, the smuggling of slaves would resume. Maybe she was searching for some kind of excitement besides cooking meals, washing dishes and linen, and cleaning dingy rooms.

  No, it wasn’t excitement. She longed to matter. To make a difference in someone’s life. She needed to matter.

  “You miss Doc, don’t you?”

  Her throat tightened, and she could do little more than nod. She couldn’t even explain her feelings. How could she describe what she hardly understood herself?

  She was weary. That was all. Numb from too many changes. Listless from the halt of excitement. She would never give voice to such thoughts to Ma Linnie when the woman had been nothing but kind to her, but in some ways, the pub felt not much freer than her home. She couldn’t leave, fearing she’d be recognized by Nathaniel or one of his cronies.

  The customers didn’t even know her real name, only calling her Ann, a precaution employed by Ma to ensure her identity remained a secret.

  She had simply traded one prison for another.

  Prison or free, any of it would be easy to bear if Micah were by her side.

  CHAPTER 32

  OCTOBER 6, 1862

  Keziah breathed in autumn’s distinct spice as she walked through crunching leaves and snapped twigs littering the yard of the old schoolhouse.

  She had braved leaving the pub more of late, though rarely had she gained the courage to travel this far. Perhaps it was the passing of time, or maybe the recent knowledge that her brother had married, giving him something to occupy himself other than ranting over his wayward sister and the evil abolitionists slithering through his city.

  Upon hearing the news of his nuptials, she lifted a prayer for his heart to soften and for his mind to heal, not only for his sake but the sake of his new bride as well.

  She was not foolish enough to think she would be welcomed back home with open arms. Someday, if Providence ordained, but not during the hot, pulsing emotions of war. The country continued to rip further apart. The Union was finally beginning to win their skirmishes, but the worst was far from over.

  Word had gotten back to her that Mother had begun telling friends Keziah was ill and living in a sanitarium. Whether it was a lie she had concocted or a lie spun by Nathaniel’s lips, Keziah didn’t know, but it likely saved Mother from societal repercussions after Keziah left home.

  You just want it to be you and me right now, don’t you, Father? She’d reached a point where she stopped looking for Micah’s return. She thought of him every day—in truth, every hour—but God had shown her that he was not simply overseeing her journey. He was her journey. The realization had not taken away the pain but had brought her a tremendous measure of peace.

  She walked slowly, savoring the rare quiet, pausing to admire a flaming red maple as she tucked herself deeper into her shawl. The faintest nip in the air boded that the days were steadily shortening.

  As she passed the old clapboard schoolhouse with its peeling whitewash, Keziah meandered to the grove of trees just behind, relishing the scent of dying leaves. Absently running her fingertips over prickly bark, she smiled. Memories found her at every turn, but they were no longer painful. Only sweet.

  Laughing children in trousers and pinafores. Lunch pails. Ribbons and primers. Slates and pencils. Aggies and skipping games. Childish infatuations and innocent heartbreak.

  Keziah paused before the Kissing Tree and let her eyes travel over the carved initials, the deep grooves of hastily scraped hearts. B loves L. Darcie loves Jim. So many names and stories.

  “Are you still searching for your name?”

  Heart in her throat, she gasped and turned. She knew that voice. . . .

  She pressed her back against the Kissing Tree, and her pulse skittered when she found a pair of blue eyes staring at her with unrestrained intensity.

  Micah.

  He stepped away from the tree in front of him, moving slowly toward her, holding her captive with his gaze. She heard the tremor in her own voice, feeling as shaken as the crimson leaves rattled by the soft breeze. “Am I dreaming?”

  “I was about to ask the same. You’re even more beautiful than when I left.”

  Heat flushed up her neck, but she could think of nothing other than that he was standing before her, his countenance brimming with something indefinable. Something that unearthed sensations she thought she’d buried. He was alive. Clean-shaven, healthy, strong, handsome, and blessedly alive.

  She bit her lip, suddenly uneasy, feeling undone as he moved closer.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “I stopped by the pub. Ma told me.”

  She felt her voice crack. “I was so afraid . . .”

  He stopped short and smiled wistfully. “I know. And I’m so sorry I had to leave when I did.”

  She stared absently at the thick-trunked trees surrounding them, toying lightly with a low-hanging limb at her fingertips. “Where have you been?”

  “Philadelphia.”

  “Working at the hospitals?”

  “No.” He shifted his weight. “The Pennsylvania Abolition Society.”

  She took a moment to absorb the news. She’d heard of the pioneering antislavery organization. It had become a major advocate and driving force behind the Underground Railroad.

  She looked everywhere but his face. What was wrong with her?

  “I made it there, half-starved and exhausted. William Still gave me a steady job, allowing me to treat the malnourished and sick who came to their door.”

  She didn’t want to ask—knowing might be too painful. But she couldn’t stop the question nagging her. “Why did you come back?”

  “Look at me.”

  Slowly she lifted her eyes to meet his.

  “You know why I came back.”

  Did she? Her mouth felt dry as rolled lint. Before she could protest, he slipped his fingers into hers and tugged her deeper into the grove of trees. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Confusion swirled through her as he led her to a large oak tucked deeper into the thicket behind the school. He looked into her upturned face and his grin turned tender.

  “I never found the courage to show you this before. I wanted to, but . . .” He swallowed. “Look.”

  Blinking rapidly, she focused on the rough bark as Micah removed his free hand hovering over the tree trunk.

  Micah loves Kizzie.

  Amazement and warmth flooded her like crashing waves against rock.

  He pulled her to him and cupped her face in his warm hand, his touch achingly gentle. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Deep in your heart, you know why I returned. I cannot live one more moment without you.”

  Tears burned her eyes as her spirits soared. “I love you too, Micah.”

  He nuzzled her forehead and temple with his lips. “I was always too shy to tell you. Even when we were nothing but children, I longed to carve our names on that old Kissing Tree, but fear held me back. What if you didn’t feel the same way? So one day I snuck out here and carved our names on this tree instead. I determined to make you mine from that moment on.”

  Prickles of delight rose on her skin at his low voice and gentle caresses. “Micah, it’s you. It’
s really you.”

  He leaned in and claimed her lips, sweeping her toward him with his fevered embrace. Long moments of tender desire were broken by his shaky breath as he reluctantly pulled away and placed his forehead against hers.

  “I know what I said before about societal obstacles, but it’s not the same in Philadelphia. If we were to move north, things could be so different. Better. For us and our children.” He paused. “What I’m trying to ask is, will you marry me?”

  She threw her arms around him and laughed with joy. “Oh yes! I’ll marry you. God could give me no greater gift.”

  With a whoop of elation, he picked her up and twirled her through the air, only stopping when she gasped with laughter. She traced the line of his jaw and wrapped her arms around his neck, knowing she was grinning like a lovesick girl. She didn’t care. God was giving her the desire of her heart.

  “But you’re still a wanted man. And I—”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Not in Philadelphia. I already have a home picked out up there. In fact, Mr. Still was quite adamant I return quickly with my bride. He’s eagerly anticipating your arrival. It appears they are in great need of women willing to see to the needs of other women and children who arrive at their door. And of course—” he winked—“I’ve been searching for a nurse to aid my work as well.”

  She giggled as he smothered her face in light kisses. “I’m not a nurse. I have no qualifications.”

  His voice husky as he feathered his lips across hers, he murmured, “Mm, the primary qualifications are unrivaled courage, blonde hair with tints of red, cinnamon eyes, and that the applicant be in love with the physician.”

  Her stomach flipped as she melted into his embrace. “In that case, I’m more than qualified.” She pulled away and led him back toward the schoolhouse.

  Tucking her close to his side, he laughed. “Where are we going?”

  “To tell Ma Linnie, of course.”

  “Something tells me she already knows. From the moment I brought you into her world, she’s teased me mercilessly.”

  Her brows rose in surprise. “Really? What did she say?”

  “‘It’s plain as plain can be, Doc. That pretty little thing has engraved her name on your heart.’”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  THANK YOU for taking this journey with me. The adventure began as a family vacation to the beautiful city of Savannah, Georgia, and blossomed into a deep love for the charming Southern town. Many of the buildings and businesses in this story are fictitious, though I attempted to remain true to Savannah’s historical layout. Some of the details of the First African Baptist Church of Savannah are also fictitious, but this historic building really was used in the Underground Railroad, and the congregation continues to meet today. You can learn more about this amazing place of worship, the people who served there, and other fascinating points of interest by visiting http://firstafricanbc.com/history.php or http://www.savannah.com.

  From the moment I stepped foot on the city’s cobblestone walk, I was entranced. God slowly unfurled a story in my heart—the tale of a girl who battled epilepsy as a child, just as I did, but grew to understand her worth in the eyes of a loving God. That story flowed from heart to pen, and I’ll ever be grateful for the many who helped bring this novel to your hands.

  Jesus, thank you for being the One who sees me. Your love is unfathomable.

  To my supportive husband, Todd: thank you for giving me the freedom to be me. I love you. Bethany, Callie, and Nate: laughing, learning, and loving with you three is one of the greatest gifts God has given me. Being your mom is a joy. (Bethany, I attempted to “do in” as many characters as I could, but I’m not a suspense writer. I’ll have to leave that to you, my dear.)

  Morgan and Taylor, I can’t wait to meet you and hold you in my arms. Mommy loves you.

  To Dad and Mom, Ron and Linda, my brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, Grandma Gladys and Grandma Joyce, cousins, uncles and aunts, dear friends and adopted family: you are treasures. My life would be incomplete without you.

  To Janet Grant, my incredible agent, who shows grace at every turn yet pushes me to give my best: thank you. There is no one else I would want to have with me on this journey.

  My deepest thanks and appreciation to Jan Stob and my phenomenal editors Shaina Turner and Danika King, as well as the entire Tyndale team. Shaina, thank you for seeing the potential in this story and for your unrelenting encouragement. You have blessed me beyond measure. Danika, your fingerprints on the edits made it blossom into something far greater than I could have done alone. I stand in awe of your talent.

  To all the Bookie authors and my writing peeps at ACFW Arkansas: thank you for being the best cheering squad ever! Your laughter and wisdom are gifts that keep me pressing forward on the hard days. To my wonderful church family at Pilgrim Rest and my faithful Vision Team supporters: a thank-you seems inadequate for all the prayers and love you’ve offered up over the years. May God bless you as you have blessed me and countless others. Special thanks go out to Nate and Tami Sakany, as well as Allen Arnold, whose mentorship in teaching me to “write with God” has transformed the way I approach each moment.

  I can never thank you enough, dear reader, for sharing your time, your thoughts, and your heart with me. As I wrote Engraved on the Heart, God continually brought you to mind. You were prayed over as I struggled to find each word, each thought, and weave it into something that might settle down deep. If you’ve struggled with feeling ignored or rejected, may Keziah and Micah’s story be your own. You are loved. You are treasured. There is a God who sees you, and he has engraved your name upon his heart.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A PASSIONATE LOVER OF STORIES, Tara Johnson uses fiction, nonfiction, song, and laughter to share her testimony of how God led her into freedom after spending years living shackled to the expectations of others. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and makes her home in Arkansas with her husband and three children. Visit her online at www.tarajohnsonstories.com.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  Keziah and her family often worry about the social stigma associated with epilepsy. Though we now live in the era of modern medicine, can you think of any illnesses that are still widely stigmatized or feared? Why is that the case? What can you do to avoid shaming and instead support people who have these conditions?

  When Micah returns to Savannah after five years in Philadelphia, he realizes that he no longer fits in. Why not? Have you ever gone back to a place you once lived and felt the same way? What was that experience like?

  After Keziah hears Amos speak and learns about the brutality of slavery, she prays, Forgive me for my apathy. I’ve never truly seen the horrors inflicted upon your children, have been content to turn away as long as my own home was happy. . . . Help me make a difference. How does God answer her prayer? Have you ever been awakened from apathy in a similar way? What was your response?

  Micah tells Ma Linnie that he wants to prevent Keziah from involving herself in the Underground Railroad. In response, Ma Linnie says, “Love doesn’t manipulate. And it doesn’t control. Love gives, even if it costs the giver everything.” Is there a relationship in your life where you’ve seen Ma Linnie’s definition of love in action? What happens when love does try to control and manipulate, rather than give?

  Though Hiriam is a slave himself, he initially opposes Keziah’s desire to help fugitive slaves. Why does he react this way? Did you sympathize with his reasoning? What eventually changes his mind?

  Throughout the story, various characters voice their belief that God is on the side of the Confederacy. Why do they think so? What causes Keziah to disagree with them? Why is it dangerous to believe that God is just on the side of your group—politically, socially, or otherwise?

  Were you as surprised as Keziah when she answers the door to an unexpected arrival in chapter 24? In what ways does this person upset the balance of peace in the Montgomery family? What changed him so dr
astically?

  Keziah faces opposition to her abolitionist convictions from her entire family. What enables her to stand up for what she knows is right? Have you dealt with similar opposition from people you loved? How did you react?

  Near the end of the book, Keziah finds peace in the midst of Micah’s absence: “God had shown her that he was not simply overseeing her journey. He was her journey. The realization had not taken away the pain but had brought her a tremendous measure of peace.” Have you ever waited a long time for something you weren’t sure would ever happen—or are you in a period of waiting right now? Why is it so difficult to trust God during these times? What does it mean that God was Keziah’s journey, rather than the overseer of her journey?

  If the story were to continue beyond the last page, how do you imagine Keziah’s and Micah’s lives playing out? Would Keziah’s mother ever change her mind? What would become of Jennie? Of Nathaniel?

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