Rachel's Secret

BJ Hoff

Description

Bestselling author BJ Hoff promises to delight her many faithful readers with her compelling new series, The Riverhaven Years. With the first book, Rachel's Secret, Hoff introduces a new community of unforgettable characters and adds the elements readers have come to expect from her novels: a tender love story, the faith journeys of people we grow to know and love, and enough suspense to keep the pages turning quickly.When the wounded Irish American riverboat captain, Jeremiah Gant, bursts into the rural Amish setting of Riverhaven, he brings chaos and conflict to the community--especially for young widow, Rachel Brenneman. The unwelcome "outsider" needs a safe place to recuperate before continuing his secret role as an Underground Railroad conductor. Neither he nor Rachel is prepared for the forbidden love that threatens to endanger a man's mission, a woman's heart, and a way of life for an entire people.

Sujets

• Historical romance

Informations

• Publié par: Harvest House Publishers
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2008
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780736933292
• Langue: English

Extrait

T h e R I V E R H A V E N Y E A R S
R ACHEL S S ECRET
BJ H OFF

HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
Cover by Koechel Peterson Associates, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota
BJ Hoff: Published in association with the Books Such Literary Agency, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.biz.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
RACHEL S SECRET Copyright 2008 by BJ Hoff Published by Harvest House Publishers Eugene, Oregon 97402 www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hoff, B. J.,
Rachel's secret / B.J. Hoff.
p. cm. - (Riverhaven years ; bk. 1)
ISBN-13: 978-0-7369-2418-4 (pbk.)
ISBN-10: 0-7369-2418-3 (pbk.)
1. Amish-Fiction. I. Title.
PS3558.O34395R33 2008
813'.54-dc22
2008030794
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other-except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 / DP-SK / 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my family
I thank my God every time I remember you.
-P HILIPPIANS 1:3
Contents
Acknowledgements
Book One
The Memory Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Fiction at its best from BJ Hoff
Great reviews for BJ Hoff s Mountain Song Legacy trilogy
A CKNOWLEDGMENTS
As the Amish work in community to raise a barn, build a house, and supply the needs of their families and friends, so do the people who bring a book to its readers work in community.
It has been a very special blessing for me to work in community with Harvest House Publishers. More family than company, more friends than associates, and as much partners as publishers, the people who make up this remarkable team are among the most gifted, dedicated, and faithful folks with whom I ve ever had the privilege of working. I owe you much, and I m deeply grateful to every one of you.
Let me add a special note of thanks to Nick Harrison, my editor, who never ceases to amaze me with his seemingly bottomless well of patience and encouragement, a heartening love of a good story, and the unfailingly keen instincts and expertise that enrich that story in countless ways-most of which the reader may never be aware of, but for which this author is continually grateful.
To Janet Kobobel Grant, wise agent and faithful friend-thank you for all the things that, in the rush and clamor and busyness of the business too often go unsaid. I would never have lasted this long without you.
Special thanks to Dr. Richard Mabry for enlightening me about gunshot wounds and other medical issues.
And to my readers-for every note and email you ve taken time to write for every prayer you ve offered in my behalf for reading my stories and sharing my heart-God bless you.
T HE R IVERHAVEN Y EARS

Book One:
RACHEL S SECRET
T HE M EMORY B OOK
Fond memory brings the light of other days around me
T HOMAS M OORE
Amish settlement near Riverhaven, Ohio November 1855
Every year at this time, Rachel Brenneman took out her book of memories. Memories of another cold, rainy November day three years gone.
Rachel s memory book wasn t stored in her chest of drawers but in her heart. She had heard that there were paper pictures some Englischers kept as memories-pictures taken by boxes called cameras -that captured the exact image of people and things, trapping them in a moment of time, so they could be looked at months or even years later.
This was a forbidden thing to the Plain People, of course. And yet what would it be like to have such a picture of her beloved Eli to gaze upon, rather than having to call forth the pictures stored away in her mind?
Not that she needed a piece of paper to remember her departed husband. His dear face was engraved upon her heart as clearly today as if he sat across from her, smiling, watching her mend one of his shirts or darn his socks. Yet at times she feared that one day the images now so vivid might fade and grow distant, making it more difficult to keep his memory close.
She was resolved that she would never allow that to happen. That s why this yearly practice of deliberately setting apart a time to reminisce was so important. True, along with the achingly sweet and tender moments stored in her mind, there were other memories not so dear. Some were painful, even frightening. Rather than warming her heart, they threatened to break it. But she would continue this annual ritual of sorting through them until it was time to put them away for another year. This was her way, the only way she knew, to keep Eli close and honor his memory.
Now that her day s work was finally done, the night growing late, the house hushed, she sat on a wooden chair at the kitchen table with a blanket wrapped snugly around her. The flame in the oil lamp flickered in the cold draft, dappling the table and the walls with shadows. In one hand she clutched the small, heart-shaped wooden box Eli had made for her hairpins. He d made it for pretty, he d said.
Eli had loved her hair. Most nights he would remove the pins himself and let it fall free and then commence to brush it for ever so long.
Memories
With her other hand, Rachel smoothed the material of one of the few pieces of Eli s clothing she had kept after his death, the dark blue shirt he d favored for church services. The pin box and his favorite shirt-these were the most precious things she owned. Even though a Plain woman wasn t to count any worldly item as a treasure, she could not look upon these things as anything but treasures.
The loneliness that usually closed in on her at this time of night was held at bay by the sweet warmth of her memories. She knew, if she were to get up and look outside, the darkness would be just as black as any other night. The November wind would be as raw as ever, carrying the familiar brackish odor off the river.
But for these few moments, as she dusted off her memories and revisited the blessed hours she and Eli had once shared, she would not hear the wind or feel the cold or mind the solitary darkness. For now she would not bend beneath the heaviness of her grief, would not choke on the bitter taste of her loss, would not let the fear of the future-a future without Eli-leach into her pores and chill her hope like a merciless, debilitating disease.
For this time, at least, she would pretend the night that had shattered her life without warning, the night that had swept away her dreams, her hopes, her happiness like dust in a windstorm, had never happened. For now her memories would allow her to relive yesterday.
Reality would return soon enough with tomorrow.
1
S TRANGERS AT THE D OOR
The night is long, and pain weighs heavily, But God will hold his world above despair.
C ELIA T HAXTER
G ant was blind, and he was drowning.
He thought he was out of the water, but now he wasn t sure. He couldn t tell the river from the rain drumming down on him. The world had become nothing but a churning tide of red, a swirling veil of rain and river and hurt.
If he could fight his way out, break though the wall of water forcing him under, there was a chance he might still survive. Instead he went spinning, tossed farther out, away from land. He could feel his lifeblood draining out of him as weakness dragged him closer to unconsciousness.
He gasped for air but choked. His lungs caught fire, his heart exploded. The pain snaked its way up his leg, circling his thigh and hip, unleashing its venom in a quick, hot siege as it coiled upward on its relentless route to his brain.
He had thought death would be a gentler thing, quiet, even peaceful, not this freezing, stabbing assault. There was nothing now but the roar of the water and the steady ascent of pain-nothing but the numbing awareness that he was sinking into a mindless abyss. No strength left. Nothing but the weight of the water and the storm and the current pulling him below
Fight. He should fight else he would drag Asa under with him. And Mac where was Mac?
Captain! Can you hear me, Captain? Stay with me! You stay with me and Mac! You be all right now! We be safe. We got you now. We re out of the water! Just the rain now, Captain, and we ll soon be in a dry place. Look, look there-can you see? It s the light and the candle. And the quilt. We found it, Captain! We at the station. We at the safe place now!
Somewhere at a great distance, Gant could still hear the river running heard a man shouting, a dog barking
A safe place. But didn t Asa realize? There was no safe place-not tonight.

Monday night, long after Rachel had finished preparing the food she would be taking to Maryann Plank s wedding the next day, she lay wide awake and restless, trying not to wake Fannie, sleeping next to her.
She was glad for her nine-year-old sister s company, glad their mother had agreed that Fannie could spend the night. They had had fun, the two of them, cooking and baking for the next day s celebration and then playing some pencil and paper games until bedtime.
It was a comfort,