From his first walk through the forests surrounding Hot Springs, August had felt drawn in by the lush beauty of the sloping mountains. Of course, his first trek had been on a rainy evening, helping a small band of guards search for the camp’s first runaway, but even then, the pull of the mountains’ quiet call ushered him to linger... to live.
Now, as he marched at a steady pace up the hill, with Jessica at his side trying to ignore him, the tree-lined path cast late afternoon shadows in front of him, keeping his thoughts away from the darkness of the past. Reminding him of fresh beginnings—hope brought to life by Dr. and Mrs. Carter’s kindness along with their welcome into their family.
Peace. A presence almost tangible in the quiet woods. God’s fingerprints stamped across the horizon, carried on each birdsong, and within each fleshy leaf on the trees.
Jessica kept silent as they made the steady climb, just as she’d done in the automobile ride to the bottom of the hill. What was she thinking? Was she entertaining thoughts of Jasper Little? August grimaced and cast her another glance from his periphery.
Perhaps he truly was playing the fool, but somewhere within all those letters, woven through their stories and memories, there beat a kindred heart. A loyal, faithful resilience. Though it bent and twisted beneath the heavy hand of pain, he’d not only heard about her kindness and strength, he’d already witnessed it.
He’d learned hard lessons on patience—lessons, no doubt, she’d push to the edge if his first few days with her proved typical. But he’d found his home in Hot Springs. He’d never known what it meant to belong somewhere until he’d run to the assistance of Dr. Carter when a woman collapsed at the train depot a few months after his arrival to the camp. From that moment, the gentleness and forbearance, the trust, offered by Dr. and Mrs. Carter began the long and sweet healing August’s heart needed.
A place of belonging.
And Jessica’s entrance, along with the three-inch block of resentment on her shoulder, threatened to wedge distance between August and his beloved Carters. If nothing else, he had to win her indifference, but he wanted much more.
“You have had a busy entrance, no?”
She slid him a glance from her periphery and continued moving forward without a response.
“It must be difficult returning after so long. Much has changed for you but stayed the same for your small town.”
Her sudden exhalation of air broke the quiet and she shot him a heated look. “My small town hasn’t stayed the same from where I’m standing, Mr. Reinhold. The flood. The camp.” She focused ahead. “Not the same at all.”
“The spirit of your town is the same. Kind people, like your grandparents, and the beauty of the —”
“You need to understand something.” She stopped on the trail, her palms planted on her hips as she turned the full brunt of her fiery gaze on him. “We are not going to be friends.”
He combatted her statement with a shrug. “I am an optimist.”
She groaned and resumed her frantic pace up the hillside, slowed only by the limp in her stride. Silence moved between them like a wall. August glanced up at the afternoon sky, awash with a mixture of clouds and sun. He had to return to camp by dusk or he would endanger the freedom his good name allowed.
“Just because you think you know my grandparents doesn’t mean you know me.” Jessica’s words erupted in a harsh whisper, fueling her steps to an even faster rhythm.
He kept the pace. “No. But knowing the kindness and the welcome from your grandparents has made me wish to know you as well. They assure me you can be kind.”
She turned the power of those emerald eyes on him, her mouth dropped wide. “Of course I can be kind. I’m a nurse, for heaven sakes.”
“I would not see the two as related.” August shoved his hands in his pockets, holding his grin in check. At least he had her talking. “Nurses have always brought needles and stings to me.”
Her brow tilted skyward. “Perhaps you deserved the needles and stings.”
The grip on his smile loosed completely. “No doubt, Nurse Ross. No doubt.”
Her gaze hesitated in his before she jerked her attention back to the path ahead and tightened her jaw into a line of defense. The fiery glint in those large eyes fascinated him. He knew the gentleness and longing braided through her letters, the dry humor and compassion infused onto the pages. But those eyes added a dimension of depth he’d failed to anticipate. Fascinating. Challenging.
The quiet of the forest slid in between their labored breaths as the path grew steep. August had learned to embrace the earthy stillness and gentle solitude, but had Jessica’s mind and heart become so full of the sounds of war, she’d lost the ability to hear the quiet of a serene afternoon, the stillness of peace? He remembered a time when the noise from his pain drowned out all peace.
“Eliza’s cabin’s at the top of the ridge.”
August nodded.
“How do you know English so well?” She asked the question with a reluctant edge.
“My father worked with Englishmen so he learned the language first and taught it to me, my brother, and sister, but then I took classes at the camp.”
For some reason, the answer paused her steps. “The camp offers classes?”
“Yes.” He had her attention. Even as she began walking again, she studied him. What did she see? “We’ve even created a small town inside the fence. New Heidelberg. Nothing like the true city, but a little taste of home.”
Her frown curled. “Taste of home, is it?”
“I am not like the people who hurt you.”
She stepped forward, her finger pointed like a weapon. “You know nothing about the people who hurt me.”
He held her gaze, as unswerving as hers. “And you know nothing about who I am.”
“Ya’ll need to git a move on.” Jude’s face emerged at the top of the trail, his hound at his side. “Mama needs ya.”
Jessica stabbed him with a glare and then grabbed the front of her skirt, running as best she could up the hill, her limp becoming more evident.
The path ended in front of a tiny log cabin, much like some of the other houses August had seen while assisting Dr. Carter. It stood in need of repairs, but as August had learned, men were scarce and widows received help in filtered opportunities as hands were able. By the state of this cabin, it had been a long time since workman shadowed the door of Eliza Larson’s doorstep. The short-hewn log home clung to the hillside as if the next puff of wind might send it toppling over the edge.
A pitiful moan broke into the afternoon from the open door, sending Jessica up the crooked porch steps and through the door. August stopped at the threshold, his chest deflating at the sight.
A woman, sallow-faced and pale, sat on a low, straw-tic bed, her hands clawing at the care-worn quilt barely covering her frail body. Based on Dr. Carter’s warning, he’d expected a weaker vessel to greet him, but not one already holding an otherworldly countenance.
His throat tightened. He knew the shadow lurking in the corners of the room. An icy chill slid up his spine, unearthing darker memories of his grandfather’s deathbed and the lifeless body of his sister’s newborn daughter. He cringed against the tremor, but Jessica seemed untouched by the sense of doom hemming in on all sides of the dimly lit room. She moved to the bed, taking the woman’s wrist to feel a pulse and pushing back the woman’s damp hair from her face.
The intensity and compassion marking every feature of her inspired August into action too. “I’ll help Jude with the hot water, yes?”
Jessica met his gaze with the slightest hint of surprise. “Yes.”
“I already got it a’goin’,” Jude answered from the doorway.
“Jessica Ross?” The voice rising from the ghostly figure on the bed pooled as fragile as the gown draping her shoulders. “You’re back?”
“Yes, Liza.” Jessica’s tones smoothed into a gentle touch, stilling August’s movements to stare in wonder. “I came back just in time to help you meet your newest family member. Wasn’t that nice of me?”
The woman’s gray eyes searched Jessica’s face. “It’s a sign.”
“A sign?”
“I was waitin’ for a sign and here you came.” Her voice quivered as her smile grew. “Now... now, all is as it should be.”
Jessica looked up to August, and for the first time since he’d met her, the fire steeling her gaze bowed to a vulnerability. Fear. Uncertainty. He took another step forward, ready to fight against whatever distress raked at her strength.
Another contraction wracked through the woman’s body. August turned to the little boy whose somber gaze fastened on his unsettled mother. Emotions squeezed August’s voice low as he knelt in front of the boy. “Jude.”
The boy turned those piercing blue eyes, his countenance much older than his years. He’d stepped into his father’s position at home as his father stepped into war. “Yes, sir.”
“I believe Nurse Jesse has an occupation for you, isn’t that correct, Nurse?”
Jessica pulled her attention to the pair, dazed. “Yes... yes, that’s right. Do you know what the basil plant looks like?”
The boy perked to attention and shot a gaze back to the bed where his mother collapsed from the exertion of the activity. “Mama uses it for cookin’. I’ve got it for her before.”
“Excellent. Will you run grab some for me? We’ll make some tea for your mama.”
His nose wrinkled with his doubt. August’s did as well.
“Ain’t meanin’ no disrespect, ma’am. But my mama’s wantin’ to have a baby, not drink no tea.”
Jessica placed her palm against the woman’s arm, a gesture of support, as she gave the little boy a gentle smile. “It’s to help with the baby, Jude. It fights infection.”
His thin body perked to attention. “Yes, ma’am.” He took another look at his mother and backed up to the threshold of the door. “I won’t be long.” He placed his little hands on his hips and set his jaw with a defiance. “ʼCause I plan to be right here to keep Mama safe.”
“Most of the time menfolk stay outside until the baby comes, Jude.” August entered the conversation from his quiet corner, lowering himself to one knee. “Women need privacy for such as this, and if need be, I’ll help as I can.”
“I can’t trust no stinkin’ German to put his hands on my mama.”
August didn’t even flinch. The boy had lost his father due to Germans, so why wouldn’t he absorb the anger shared by his mother? The lostness.
“Do you trust my grandpa, Jude?” An unlikely ally emerged in Jessica Ross.
Jude stared back. “Sure do. Ain’t no better man on the mountain.”
Jess’ lips tipped at the compliment. “Well, my grandpa trusts Mr. Reinhold enough to send him here with me to help your mama. Do you think if my grandpa trusts him, you can too?”
The boy examined August from head to toe. “All right.” The boy drew out the words. “I’ll trust ya, then.”
August’s smile spread and he offered his hand. The boy shook it, sealing the deal, his gaze sober, fingers squeezing tight. Somehow August felt certain he’d gained a friend with the help of the persnickety Jessica Ross. “Go on, now, son. See to the basil for Nurse Ross.”
“Take Scraps with you so he won’t be in the way,” Jessica called after, but Scraps already ran out the door at the boy’s heels.
“You’re a good liar,” August said, glancing over at her as he reached to check the water.
Jess sent him a sideways glance. “I never said I trusted you. I said my grandpa does. It wasn’t a lie.” Her attention flickered to his, and for the briefest moment, softened the hardened edges around her face. Beautiful. She cleared her throat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to check Eliza, so I’d appreciate if you and your smirk would slide right out that front door.”
“I need you to promise me, Jesse.” The mother’s voice moaned into the conversation as her body writhed against another contraction and sweat beads pearled across her forehead. “Please.”
August snatched a cloth from the lukewarm pot over the stove and waved it in the air to cool. He’d assisted in his sister’s delivery of his tiny niece, a whisper of a child who barely lived two months. Any small service of assistance mattered at this crucial time.
In a few strides, he crossed the room and placed the cloth in Jessica’s hand.
“Thank you,” she whispered, touching the linen to Mrs. Larson’s skin as her tension subsided into a shivering sigh against the pillows. “The pains are close, Eliza. It shouldn’t be long now.”
“That’s right.” Mrs. Larson grabbed at Jessica’s free hand, drawing it to her chest. “Not long. So... so I need you to promise, about the younguns.” Her breath punctuated each word. “You’ll promise me, won’t you?”
“Promise you what, Eliza?”
“You’ll take ‘em.” The mother’s voice moaned out the phrase. “You’ll promise to take keer of my young’uns.”
Jessica’s eyes pinched closed for a moment and August began to put the pieces together.
Jessica tried to pull back. “I need you to fight, Liza. For your children.”
The woman, as frail as she seemed, held Jessica in a vice. “Joshua’s already called me home. I’ve seen it in my dreams. I’m going to him.”
The superstition of the mountains crept into her voice and waited in the wings, cloaked in a black robe and a sickle. August stayed the chills with a prayer.
“You know as well as I that sometimes, dreams are only dreams.” Jessica shook the hand Eliza held. “God expects us to use good sense too. He’s given you these children, and He knows they need a mother.”
“He wants you to be their mother.”
***
“What?” Jessica replayed the sentence whispered by her high school friend, but the words and meaning came back as almost incomprehensible.
Mother? Jessica? No! She’d never been good with children and she didn’t plan to practice on two would-be orphans at a mother’s dying request. Eliza Larson had to survive.
“I seen it in my dreams but I didn’t know it ʼtwas you, Jesse. All make sense now.” Eliza sighed back into the pillows for a momentary reprieve from her pangs but tensed again almost immediately.
Jess tried to loosen the woman’s hold, but her fingers gripped as tightly as the desperation in her eyes. Jess groaned and severed her gaze from Eliza’s, searching for some help—anything from anyone, even traitor August Reinhold.
His eyes captured her with their tenderness, sending strength and a sweet taste of calm over the coils of tension under her skin. An unwelcome flutter slid in between Jess’ internal panic and utter disdain.
She stifled a grimace at the memory of Jude’s honest declaration about August being a ‘stinkin’ German.’ Paired with his gentle nature and ready smile, she found it more and more difficult to hate him. As much as every scar inside her cried out in protest, she couldn’t tend to a dying mother and a grieving seven-year-old by herself.
Eliza tensed through another contraction ending in a jolt of quiet. The woman’s weak breaths rose and fell in shallow puffs. Her complexion looked pasty, and Jess acknowledged the familiar shades of death fingering closer with each passing second.
“The baby’s comin’.” Eliza moaned and sent Jessica into motion.
She barely heard August slip from the room to leave them in privacy. Eliza pushed, but the effort weakened her even more, barely moving the baby along.
“Stay with me, Eliza. The baby is almost here. I need you to give me one or two more pushes and we’ll be finished.”
“I can’t.” The woman’s cry puddled out on a whimper.
“Did your dream say the baby was going to die too?” The statement snatched the woman’s full focus. “Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t get him out of the birth canal very soon.”
The edge in Jessica’s words punctured whatever state left Eliza powerless, and with a cry loud enough to shake Jess’ bones, the woman pushed the baby clean out of her body. Jess caught the crying bundle in a towel by the bed, staring at the tiny person in wonder.
This... miracle never grew commonplace.
“A girl.” Jess whispered and looked up. “You have a girl, Eliza.”
“Good. She’ll make you a fine daughter.” Eliza’s voice fainted into a whisper, her breath rasped and ragged.
“No, no.” Jess leaned forward. “You need to get well and be the mother for this little one.” Jess pressed the baby into Eliza’s arms, hoping the tactile awareness would shake Eliza’s hold on her gloomy end.
The woman touched the baby’s face and with a sluggish familiarity, moved the little one to her breast to quell the desperate cries. After a few attempts, the quiet sound of suckling hummed in chorus with the crackling fire. Jess breathed a sigh of relief and went to work, finalizing the birthing process.
As the placenta expelled, another burst of blood followed.
No. How on earth could the woman have known she would hemorrhage?
Eliza moaned, a pitiful sound, and Jessica sent a frenzied look about the tiny cabin for anything cold. Something to perhaps slow the bleeding? Her view offered nothing.
The contented hums of the suckling baby couldn’t overshadow Eliza’s breaths, growing shallower.
“Do you need anything, Nurse Ross?”
August’s face appeared in the doorway, but before Jess could send him away, Eliza grasped Jess’ arm in a feeble hold. “I feel my life leavin’. Promise me you’ll take care of my young’uns.”
The request hit Jess in the stomach all over again. If she didn’t think she’d hasten the woman’s decline, she’d shake some sense into her, but the shadows beneath her eyes and the pallor of her face kept the edge out of Jess’ voice. “You want to give me a helpless newborn and an impressionable seven-year-old? You’ve known me my whole life. I’ve never been very good with children.”
Eliza smiled in a resigned, knowing sort of way, as if Jessica had accepted the awesome responsibility without question. She patted Jessica’s hand before her fingers dropped to her lap. “I have every faith you’re the one for my sweet young’uns.” Her eyes lit with a small spark and she moved a weak finger down the baby’s cheek. “Faith.” She drew in a shallow breath. “Call her Faith. May she be a stronger woman than her mama.”
“Eliza, please—”
The woman sank further down into the bed, her shoulders slumping low and her energy waning with the loss of blood. Dying. Helpless. Fire exploded up through Jess’ middle. All she could do was watch Eliza die, just like she’d done hundreds of times with the soldiers in her care. Why did she have to feel so helpless all of the time?
“Where’s Jude? I need to talk to Jude.” Eliza’s words teetered to a higher pitch, rising on Jude’s name.
“I’ll get him,” August replied from the doorway, turning to leave.
“No.” Jessica stepped forward. “He shouldn’t be here for this.” She gestured back toward the bed. “Not for this.”
August’s pale blue eyes took on a steely glint. “His mother has asked for him. I will not refuse her request.”
Jess stepped closer, lowering her voice. “She has less than five minutes at the rate she’s bleeding out. A little boy doesn’t need to—”
“No. He should be with her.” His words hardened in command and Jessica stepped back.
After the light-hearted banter he’d shown since she first met him, his curt reaction took her by surprise. Before she could respond, he’d ushered the little boy into the room and to his mother’s side.
Jude never hesitated but took his mother’s outstretched hand with a sweet smile. And Jessica’s heart pinched in knots from the site of the contented baby in Eliza’s arms and the little boy facing a man’s heartache.
How could God allow this? What earthly good could any of this do? Her heart fisted tight against the remnants of her childhood faith. Nothing.
“Come close, boy.” Eliza urged Jude closer with a gentle tug. “This is your little sister, Faith. Help take care of her.”
Warmth invaded Jessica’s vision, blurring the scene into fog and whispers.
“I will, Mama. I always try to help you.”
Jude’s simple reply nudged a tear free and the dam of self-control threatened to burst with so many unshed tears she nearly turned and left the house, but August’s presence at her side kept her firmly in place. She couldn’t leave a strange man alone with this dying mother.
Eliza’s smile quivered with the fight to speak, to breathe. “You’ve always been a good boy and I... I have a special job for you now.”
The words grew softer, frail as the baby’s tiny fingers flexing open and closed against the blanket as she suckled.
“Your daddy’s calling me to join him so I must go.”
“Is he callin’ me too?”
Jess pinched her eyes closed against the scene but the question lingered with longing. Oh, the poor, sweet boy!
“No, he ‘spects you to grow up and be... be a strong man, like... him.” Her voice faltered, and her hand dropped its hold on the boy’s. “You and Faith is going to belong to Miss Jessica.”
Jude raised those clear gray eyes to her, the stare searching for answers Jessica didn’t even have the strength to voice. Words and promises scratched her throat for release. Anything to comfort the confusion on Jude’s little face.
“Love ya, boy.”
“Mama?”
But there was no response.