âCamie feels safe here,â Felicity said. âPerhaps if thy daughter is allowed to stay here, she will be able to get past her fears.â
Ty knew he should go get Camie and carry her home. What would people say when they heard that he had left his only child at an orphanâs home?
He didnât care. He recalled how happy Camie had been at dinner.
A hand came through the darkness and rested on his arm. âThee has been carrying a heavy burden, friend. I will pray that the God who loves us will show us the way to help thy little one.â
Her kind, unreproachful words reached him and soothed him like no others. He rose, his exhausted body aching, but with hope and peace flickering like a candle flame inside him. âI will go home now. My mother will come tomorrow. Thank you for your understanding.â
Ty forced himself to walk away from her comforting presence. Miss Felicity Gabriel was different than any other woman heâd met. Her smile dazzled him. Love flowed from her. Why should it surprise him that Camie had been drawn to her? She had drawn him, too.
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
May 1867
Keeping to the line of fir trees rippling in the wind, Felicity Gabriel tiptoed to the rear of the dark clump of mourners at the memorial service. There she attempted to hide behind a bulky man. A strong gust tried to snatch away Felicityâs Quaker bonnet and lift her gray skirt. She held on to the ribbons tied at her throat and pushed her skirt down. Ahead, she glimpsed the pastor holding on to his hat while reading from the Bible.
Her emotions hopped like crickets within her, distracting her from the familiar scriptures of victory over death. Then the man shielding her moved. She caught sight of the brand-new limestone marker. All that was left to show that Augustus Josiah Mueller had lived. Seeing Gusâs cold stone marker with the dates 1846â1865 took her breath. She drew in damp air. Gus.
The war had lured Gus away and then cruelly abandoned him in an unmarked grave somewhere in Virginia. The cannons were all silent now, but when would the consequences of this war endâone generation? Two? More?
âWhy are you here?â The voice Felicity had dreaded hearing snapped like the sharp tongue of a whip.
She looked at the mourners and murmured, âIâm here to show my respect to Gus, Agnes Mueller.â Felicity lowered her eyes, not wanting to linger on the womanâs red-rimmed, hate-filled eyes.
âIâm surprised that you had the gall to show your face here today.â Each word was delivered like a blow.
âAgnes, please,â Josiah Mueller pleaded, tugging at his wifeâs elbow.
âOur Gus is gone forever and we are left without consolation. And here you stand!â the woman shrilled, her voice rising.
There was a rustling in the crowd. Felicity knew there was nothing she could say or do that would comfort this woman whoâd lost her only child. Or end her groundless grudge against Felicity. So she kept her eyes lowered, staring at the soggy ground wetting her shoes.
The tirade continued until the woman became incoherent and was led away, sobbing. As the mourners followed, many nodded to Felicity or touched her arm. They all knew the truth.
When everyone else had gone, Felicity approached the stone marker. Tears collected in her eyes. She knew it was human foolishness to speak words to a soul at a grave site, but she still whispered, âIâm leaving Pennsylvania, Gus, but I wonât forget thee ever.â And then removing her glove, she spit on her palm and pressed itâflat and firm against the cold stone.
Altoona, Illinois
September 1867
Amid the bustling Mississippi wharf, Ty Hawkins eased down onto the venerable raised chair. The chair was now his daily refuge where he got his shoes shined. Afterwards, he would catch a bite to eat at a nearby café. He rarely felt hungry these days even though he was several pounds lighter than heâd ever been as an adult. He would have liked to go home for lunch, sit on his shaded back porch and cool off. But he couldnât face home so soon again.