CRITICAL PRAISE FOR
RUTH AXTELL MORREN
LILAC SPRING
âLilac Spring blooms with heartfelt yearning and genuine conflict as Cherish and Silas seek Godâs will for their lives. Fascinating details about nineteenth-century shipbuilding are planted here and there, bringing an historical feel to this faith-filled romance.â
âLiz Curtis Higgs, bestselling author of Whence Came a Prince
WILD ROSE
ââ¦the charm of the story lies in Morrenâs ability to portray real passion between her characters. Wild Rose is not so much a romance as an old-fashioned love story.â
âBooklist
ââ¦a beautiful, believable love relationshipâ¦Richly defined characters and settings enhance this meaningful novel.â
âRomantic Times
WINTER IS PAST
ââ¦inspires readers toward a deeper trust in the transforming power of Godâ¦. [Readers] will find in Winter Is Past a novel not to be put down and a new favorite author.â
âChristian Retailing
âRuth Axtell Morren writes with skill, sensitivity and great heart about the things that matter mostâ¦. Make room on your keeper shelf for a new favorite.â
âSusan Wiggs, New York Times bestselling author
ââ¦faith journeys are so realistic all readers can benefit from the story. Highly recommended.â
âCBA Marketplace
Havenâs End
Maine, 1861
âYouâre the new âprentice, arenât you?â Cherish asked the boy hunched over one of Papaâs drafting tables.
He twisted around, a startled look on his thin face, as if sheâd caught him doing something wrong.
Cherish stepped through the doorway of the boat shop and approached the table, her rag doll, Annie, swinging back and forth from one hand.
The boy swiped the edge of his palm against the corner of his eye, watching her silently as she neared.
âArenât you?â
Staring at her through disconcertingly gray eyes, he finally answered, âYes.â
âWhyâre you crying?â
âIâm not crying!â
âYes, you are. I can tell. Your eyes are all red.â It suddenly occurred to her that maybe, being a big boy, he didnât want to admit to crying. She never minded crying; it usually made her feel better afterward. The only problem was it usually followed a spanking.
âWhatchaâ doinâ?â she asked curiously, peering beyond him to the drafting table.
âNothinâ. Just looking.â
âThatâs Papaâs model.â She stood on tiptoe at the edge of the table, eyeing the wooden half-hull sliced in sections like a loaf of bread cut lengthwise.
She dragged another stool over to the table and climbed up on it. âI waited till Papa was down at the yard âfore I came over this morning. It was a long time! Then I was âfraid Mama wouldnât let me walk over.â She smiled. âShe thinks Iâm outside playing with my kitty-cat.â
The boy said nothing.
âI cried yesterday,â she told him, settling Annie on her lap. âMama sent me to my room.â
He continued eyeing her as if deciding whether she was friend or foe. He had nice eyes, she decided. Green-tinged gray, like a choppy sea. âWhat did you do?â he asked.
âI pulled kittyâs tail. I was trying to tie her to my dollyâs stroller, but she wouldnât âbey me.â
She could see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and that made her glad.
âKitty scratched me. See?â She pushed up her sleeve and showed him the bright red line running up her forearm.
âPapa never sends me to my room or spanks me. Mama says Iâll be spoiled if someone donât spank me. Papa says Iâm his little lady and should never be spanked.â
The two sat quietly for a few moments. The boyâs attention, she could see, had returned to the pieces of carved wood on the table. âAre you from far away?â she asked, shifting on the hard stool.
âReal far,â he murmured.
âWhere?â she asked, finding it hard to picture anything beyond Havenâs End.
âSwanâs Island.â
âSwanâs Island,â she repeated in awe. Her mama had just read her a story about a swan the night before. She imagined a beautiful island full of snowy-white swans.
âDo you have a mama and papa?â she asked when he said nothing more.
âJust a mama. Papa was lost at sea,â he added in a fierce tone, as if proud of the fact.
âThatâs too bad.â
He sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand against his nose. His thick golden hair fell over his forehead as he bent over the smooth pieces of wood that fitted together in descending order.