Wings of Promise; Angel Sister

Wings of Promise

Book two in the Alaskan Skies Series

By Bonnie Leon

Her spunk has always gotten her through tough times. But does she have what it takes to go the distance?



"Bonnie Leon takes the reader on a wild ride through Alaska, a place I've always wanted to visit. Now I feel as if I have. The characters flew off the pages." —Lena Nelson Dooley

From Chapter One – December 1937


Helen immersed the plate in rinse water, and then handed it to Kate. "It's such a shame Paul couldn't join us today." She turned to Kate. "How does he feel about being a bush doctor?"


"He's excited. But it's been awhile since he did any doctoring, so he's kind of nervous."


"Why did he give up his practice in San Francisco?" Muriel asked.


The muscles in Kate's stomach tightened at the question. She'd wondered the same thing, but the topic was off limits. "I don't know," she said as nonchalantly as she could manage. "He doesn't talk about it. And I don't want to pry."


"I'm so happy for you two. I think it's wonderful that you've found each other," Muriel said. "When I met Terrence, I knew right away that he was the one for me."


Kate smiled. "I'm sure Paul's the one. He hasn't proposed yet, but I hope he will. When we were making plans to get together for Christmas, he mentioned talking about our future."


"I'll bet it won't take him long to ask you," Helen said.


Kate ran a towel over the plate. "I hope you're right."


"How do you feel about being a flying hospital?" Muriel asked, gathering up the napkins.


"I'm thrilled. I'll love working with Paul. And there's such a need for a doctor. I think it will be wonderful."


Helen dunked a cup into soapy water, and then glanced toward the front room. "I'm so glad Mike came tonight. He's not been himself since . . . well, since you two—"


"I know. But he seems fine now. Maybe we can still be friends."


"I'm sure he hopes so too. He seems pretty comfortable tonight."


Mike stepped through the kitchen door. "Almost done in here?"


Helen untied her apron. "We're nearly finished."


"Good. It's time to open gifts. I think I have one under the tree." He winked at Kate.


What had come over him? He'd been morose since her refusal, and now all of a sudden he was his old charming self? Maybe he'd accepted things as they were and was ready to move on. He could have stayed mad, but that wasn't like Mike. He was a good man, and hopefully they'd resume their friendship.


With the kitchen sparkling clean, the women joined the men in the front room.


"I was thinking it would be nice to sing some carols," Helen said. She settled on the divan beside Albert and patted his thigh.


"How about `Jingle Bells'?" Albert said.


Remembering her own rendition of the song, when she'd flown packages into the villages the previous year, Kate nodded and wondered if she ought to teach the group. They'd get a kick out of it.


Before she could say anything, Albert began, "Dashing o'er the snow in a one horse open sleigh . . ."


When the song came to an end, Mike said, "How about the new one that's out, `Winter Wonderland'?"


"They've been playing it over and over on the radio," Muriel said. "I love it."


Soon everyone was singing the new melody. After that, Helen insisted on a religious carol, and then it was time to open gifts.


Albert handed out two packages to each person, explaining they were from him and Helen. One was a canister of assorted homemade candies and the other a knitted muffler.


Kate wrapped her deep green scarf around her neck and then took a bite of fudge. "Thank you so much. You know how much I love candy, and the muffler's beautiful."


"I wish we could have done more, but with things slow at the store . . . Well, you know how it is."


"Thought we were coming out of the depression," Terrence said. "But it looks like we've plunged right back into it."


"Everything will work out." Helen leaned against Albert and smiled at him, her love for her husband, even after all their years together, evident.


Kate's gifts were next. She'd managed to purchase several hand-carved pieces of ivory from Joe Turchik. He'd offered to give them to her but at her insistence had finally accepted


A token payment. She handed them out and watched while everyone unwrapped their gift.


Helen held up a delicate mother seal with a baby at its side. "Oh, this is lovely. Where did you get it?"


"You remember the Turchiks—Nena was with me when my plane went down."


"Yes, of course. Such nice people." Helen ran a fingertip across the seal.


"Joe Turchik made these."


"Is he a native?" Terrence asked, studying his plump walrus.


"Yes. Eskimo," Mike said, as he unwrapped a native man holding a spear.


"Whenever I'm in Kotzebue, I stay with them. They're good friends. Although I doubt Nena will ever fly with me again after what happened."


"It's a miracle—the both of you surviving that terrible crash," Muriel said.


"Please tell Joe how much we love his work and thank him for us." Helen studied her ivory seals. "I'll write a letter so you can take it to him on your next run north."


The rest of the gifts were opened, all except one. It was from Mike, for Kate. The package was small. Kate couldn't imagine what it could be. Everyone watched as she carefully removed the Christmas paper. "I know you didn't wrap this yourself. It's much too nice," she teased.


"I did." He gave her a tender look. "Only the best for the best."


With the paper removed, Kate held a small box in her hands. She was suddenly afraid. What if Mike had decided to do something foolish? Her hands trembled slightly as she
lifted the lid. When she looked inside surprise radiated through her. "Oh, Mike!" She lifted out a tiny gold airplane attached to a gold chain. The words Fearless Kate were inscribed in red on the plane's side. "It's beautiful!" She held it up in the light and tears sprang to her eyes. "It's my plane."


He smiled broadly. "Thought you'd like something to remember it by."


"I love it. Where did you get it?"


"You're not the only one who knows an artist." Mike winked. "I'll help you put it on."


Kate draped the chain around her neck and let Mike hook the clasp. His hand rested on her neck for a moment.


Choosing to ignore the gesture, Kate studied her tiny plane, and then let it drop against her chest. "Thank you. It's a wonderful gift." She wanted to hug him but didn't dare. Instead, she looked into his quiet blue eyes and said, "I'll cherish it always."




www.bonnieleon.com

Available at www.amazon.com, www.christianbook.com and fine book stores everywhere.

Do Not Reproduce without permission.





ANGEL SISTER

by

Ann H. Gabhart




"This book will leave you changed as it uncovers family secrets and draws you into the days following the first World War and the Great Depression. It will astound you how the characters persevere while making difficult decisions amidst heartache, and their determination to make it through the toughest of hard times."—RT Book Reviews, 4 ½ stars Top Pick


"Like a Kentucky summer, Angel Sister starts slow and easy but by the end roars along, leaving the reader breathless and wanting more. What a jewel of a story. Reminded me of To Kill a Mockingbird." – Lauraine Snelling, bestselling author of the Red River Series


During a sultry Kentucky summer, Kate Merritt struggles to keep her family together. Defeated by the Great Depression, her father slips into alcoholism, her mother is in denial, and her sisters are blissfully unaware of their plight. Who could imagine that a dirty, abandoned little girl named Lorena Birdsong would be just what the Merritts need?


Chapter Excerpt


"Me? An angel? Far from it. Just ask anybody," Kate said with a laugh as she squatted down in front of the steps.


The little girl pulled her faded red dress down over her knees as though she wanted to hide as much of her small body as she could from Kate. Little bare feet crusted with dirt stuck out below her dress. The child pushed her dark curly hair back from her face and dropped her chin down on her knees to wait for whatever Kate was going to say next. Tear streaks ran down her cheeks, but she wasn't crying now. Kate had never seen the child before. "Are you lost, sweetie?" Kate asked.


"No." The child mashed her mouth together and tears filled her dark chocolate brown eyes and overflowed to slide down her cheeks. She didn't bother wiping them away as she stared up at Kate with a mixture of fear and hope. "You have to be an angel. Please."


"Why do I have to be an angel?" Kate moved over to sit down beside the child. She started to put her arm around her, but then stopped. She didn't want to frighten the little girl.


"Because my mommy said that if I sat here and didn't cry an angel would come take care of me and love me and bring me something to eat. I tried really hard. Just like I promised Mommy." The little girl looked down at her feet. After a few seconds she went on in a tiny, sad voice. "But I couldn't keep all the tears in. They just came out."


"Where is your mommy?" Kate asked softly.


"She left. With Daddy. She had to." The little girl pulled her dress down farther over her knees until the hem touched the top of her feet. She curled her toes under as if to hide them too.


"Why did she have to?"


"Because of the baby in her tummy. Daddy, he's gonna' find work and then they're coming back for me. But Daddy said this looked like a good place. He said it had gardens and apple trees and two churches. Most places only have one. They kept Kenton because he's sick. Nobody wants a sick boy. I told them I might be sick too, but they said the angel wouldn't care. That she'd make me feel better. They're coming back for me. Mommy promised."


The little girl looked up at Kate as if she needed Kate to say it was true, so Kate did. "Then they will as soon as they can."


The little girl let out a long breath and scooted closer to Kate. "Can I touch you or will my hand go right through you? You know like a ghost. I've never seen an angel before."


"You can touch me. I'm not a real angel. Those you might not be able to touch." Kate put her arm around the child and drew her close against her. Her shoulders felt very bony under her dress. "My name's Kate. What's your name?"


"Lorena Birdsong. Mommy told me to say my name every morning when I get up and every night when I go to bed and that wherever she is she'll be saying it too. My name. Lorena Birdsong." The little girl looked up at Kate. Her lips trembled a little and she blinked her eyes very fast before she went on. "Names are very important, you know. Mommy told me never to forget that."


"Your mommy is right." Kate squeezed her shoulders a little.


The little girl shifted a little to the side and pulled a piece of paper out from under her leg. "She wrote it down for me so that when I start school, I'll spell it right." She ran her finger over the writing on the paper before she held it out for Kate to see. "That and the day I was born."


"Lorena Birdsong. June 1, 1931," Kate read. "That's a very pretty name."


"Thank you." Lorena lovingly folded the paper and held it over her heart for a moment before stuffing it under her leg again.


"Do people call you Lori for short?" Kate said.


"Nobody but my brother, Kenton. He does sometime." The little girl looked very sad again. "I didn't get to tell him goodbye. He's been coughing so bad that he was really tired and he went to sleep. Mommy tried to wake him up, but he was too sleepy. She said she'd tell him for me. He's six."


"And you're five."


"This many." Lorena held up one hand with her fingers spread apart. "I had a birthday."


"I know. It was on your piece of paper."


"We were in the car. We don't have a house."


Kate thought of the people she'd seen going through Rosey Corner in the last few months. Mostly men alone on foot, but some families in cars. Her father said the men were trying to find work, but there wasn't any work to find in Rosey Corner. So they passed on through. He said they were going to the cities where at least they'd be able to find a soup kitchen.


"Are you hungry?" Kate asked Lorena.


Lorena licked her lips and nodded her head. "And thirsty. Do angels carry food in their wings?" She tried to peer around behind Kate.


"I'm not an angel, sweetie. No wings for sure." Kate looked at the jar of jam she was holding and wished for a spoon. Still the jam would taste better with a biscuit and some milk. "But I know where we can get something for you to eat. Come on."




Angel Sister is available online at ChristianBook.com, www.bn.com or Amazon.com and other on-line booksellers or at bookstores everywhere.


Bestselling author of several novels, Ann H. Gabhart was inspired to write Angel Sister in part by the many stories her mother and aunts told her of growing up in small town Kentucky during the 1930s. Visit Ann's website - http://www.annhgabhart.com or Ann's Blog - http://www.annhgabhart.blogspot.com




Copyright ©2011 by Ann H. Gabhart

Published by Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group

ISBN: 978-0-8007-3381-0

All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without permission.

The Seeker; Murder by Mistake

THE SEEKER

by

Ann H. Gabhart

"The third book in Gabhart's Shaker series is an amazing read. The characters must make decisions they never thought they would have to face. Gabhart continues to surprise and treat her fans with her vast knowledge of Shaker history." - Patsy Glans, Romantic Times Review



"A definite can't-put--it-down book!" - Suzanne Woods Fisher, bestselling author of The Choice



Charlotte Vance is a young woman who knows what she wants. But when the man she planned to marry joins the Shakers – a religious group that does not marry – she is left dumbfounded. And when her father brings home a new wife who is young enough to be Charlotte's sister, it is more than she can bear. With the country – and her own household – on the brink of civil war, Charlotte hatches a plan to avoid her new stepmother and win back her man by joining the Shaker community at Harmony Hill. Little does she know that this decision will lead her down a road toward unforeseen peace – and a very unexpected love. Ann H. Gabhart brings alive the strikingly different worlds of the Southern gentry, the simple Shakers, and the ravages of war to weave a touching story of love, freedom, and forgiveness that sticks with readers long after they have turned the last page.


Mercer County, Kentucky
April 1861

CHAPTER 1

"The Shakers! Have you taken leave of your senses, Edwin? You can't seriously be considering joining the Shakers?" The words came out harsher than Charlotte Vance intended and Edwin Gilbey stepped back from her until the budding branches of the lilac bush behind him had to be poking holes in his dinner jacket.

"Please, Charlotte. Calm yourself. You know I can't abide a scene." He sounded alarmed as he shifted his eyes away from her face to look longingly over her shoulder toward the veranda door.

Charlotte's irritation grew as she stared at Edwin in the light of the nearly full moon. He didn't even like social gatherings. Behind her the door opened and laughter mixed with the music of the string ensemble she'd hired from Lexington flowed out into the garden. The party seemed to be proceeding well in spite of the charged emotions in the air.

When her father first sent word from Frankfort that he wanted her to arrange a grand gala for his return home to Grayson Manor after completing his business in the capital city, she'd doubted his sanity. Surely as a senator in the State Legislature he was more than aware the country was teetering on the brink of destruction after Mr. Lincoln had taken the Oath of Office and moved into the White House last month. Half a dozen southern states had already followed South Carolina out of the Union. That's all anybody was talking about. Whether they could do that. Whether the government should allow them to do that. Whether there would be armed conflict to preserve the Union.

How in the world did her father expect them to have a civil party with half the guests waving the Union flag and the other half shouting State's rights and favoring secession? She'd sent a message back to him saying they might as well lay the dueling pistols on the table in the front hall and let the men take turns out on Grayson's front lawn. But he had made light of her worries and on return post had insisted he had news to announce that required the finest party she'd ever arranged. Astounding news.

Charlotte had surmised he was bringing word back to Grayson that the Constitutional Union Party had pegged him as their next candidate for governor. Certainly reason enough to dare entertaining in spite of the political climate. But no, that hadn't been his news. Instead he had handed a woman dressed to the nines in silk and jewels down out of the carriage and introduced her as his wife.

Not wife to be. Wife. A woman from the North. Selena Harley Black. A widow with a young son somewhere still in the north or so Betty Jamison had whispered in Charlotte's ear while her father escorted his bride from group to group to introduce her. Of course, after the death of Charlotte's mother, Betty had entertained the improbable notion that she might eventually catch Charlotte's father's eye.

When the veranda door closed again and muffled the sound of the party, Charlotte was relieved. She couldn't think about her father and that woman right now. Not with Edwin talking this ridiculous Shaker talk. One problem at a time. She turned her attention back to the man pinned against her mother's favorite lilac bush in front of her. He shifted uneasily on his feet and glanced over his shoulder as though considering an escape under the lilac's branches even if it did mean spoiling the knees of his trousers.

"But Edwin," she said as sweetly as she could under the circumstances. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, the Shakers have a ban on matrimony."

Edwin straightened his shoulders and almost looked at her face again before he let his eyes slide down to the ground at their feet. "You are not mistaken. It is one of their strongest tenets. The avoidance of such unions allows them to live in peace and harmony. Hence the name of their village, Harmony Hill."

"I am well aware of the name of their village." The irritation in her voice sounded a bit strident even to Charlotte's ears. Not the way to win arguments. She attempted to pull in a deep steadying breath, but with the tight lacings of her corset constricting her breathing, she simply ended up feeling light-headed. She fought the feeling. She refused to have the vapors. She could control this. She could control Edwin. Hadn't she done so ever since they were toddlers playing together in the nursery?

He threw up his hand to ward off her anger as he hurried out his words. "Yes, yes, of course you are. At any rate, I have become well acquainted with an Elder Logan in their village. He has found great peace among the Believers there. A peace I envy." Edwin peeked up at her and went on in a tremulous voice. "You know yourself how unsettled I've felt ever since my dear grandmother departed this world last spring."

"I do understand how difficult the loss has been for you. For all of us. She was a fine lady." It took effort, but she managed to sound sympathetic as she spoke the oft repeated words. What she actually wanted to tell Edwin was that Faustine Hastings had been well along in years and that no one could live forever. Or grieve forever. Charlotte had resigned herself to a year of mourning before their marriage even though that would make her nearly twenty when they spoke their vows in May. A mere month from now.


The Seeker is available at most bookstores and book retailers. Online purchase a copy at http://www.christianbook.com,/ http://www.amazon.com/ or http://www.bn.com/ .

Living just thirty miles from a restored Shaker village in Kentucky, Ann H. Gabhart has walked the same paths that her characters might have walked in generations past. Gabhart is the author of several books, including the bestselling The Outsider, a finalist for Christian Fiction Book of 2009.

Visit Ann's website - http://www.annhgabhart.com/
Visit Ann's Blog - http://www.annhgabhart.blogspot.com/

Copyright ©2010 by Ann H. Gabhart
Published by Revell, a division of Baker Publishing Group
ISBN: 978-0-8007-3363-6
All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without permission.

* * *

MURDER BY MISTAKE.

Ellie Quicke, once a tearful widow, is now comfortably remarried to her best friend Thomas. However, having been on her own for so long, she is inclined to act hastily, not always consulting him on matters which affect them both. When she took in a young rape victim, she guessed that the commitment might become a burden, but she didn't expect it to be an invitation to murder.
Publishers Weekly: `Intrepid Ellie injects this high-octane cozy with endearing humor and enduring style.'

Chapter One

Monday afternoon

They weren't expecting trouble. The interview at the solicitor's office was the only thing on their minds as they walked along the pavement. They took no notice of the passing traffic until . . .
Woosh! A roar from a powerful car engine, a squeal from mistreated tyres. A woman's scream. A man's hoarse shout.

Ellie staggered, cannoned into from behind. She fell. A heavy weight pressed her down,

squeezing all the breath out of her.

Someone screamed.

The weight upon her was removed and she managed to lift herself enough to
see a car speed off and turn left into the traffic on the main road ahead.
Mia! Where was the girl? Was she all right? Ellie looked around, pushing herself up onto hands and knees with an effort.

Oh, thank the Lord. Mia was all right. At first glance, anyway. The girl had been thrown against the wall, was crouched there. Bewildered. Frightened.

Ellie tested her arms and legs. Everything seemed to work, after a fashion. She tried to stand and didn't make it. Went down on her knees again, with both hands on the pavement. Her pretty blue dress was no longer pretty. She'd scraped the skin down both forearms. A pity it had been a hot day, because she hadn't worn a coat. If she had, she might have saved herself grazed arms. She was trembling, but she was all right. She told herself.

Someone was screaming. Well, it wasn't her, and no, it wasn't Mia, who'd been walking on the inside of Ellie, nearer the wall. `Mia, are you all right?'

Mia nodded, over and over. Like a puppet. Speechless. In shock. Someone was still screaming. A

child was crying, thinly, hopelessly.

A big black man towered over Ellie, offering a helping hand to get her to her feet. She made it, somehow. Gave him a reassuring smile. He had blood on his T-shirt and jeans.

A youngish woman clad in Lycra cycled up. She got off her bike and looked beyond Ellie and the

man to where a woman lay sprawled . . . the buggy beside her, wheels spinning . . . Don't look,

Ellie. Don't even think about it for the moment. Concentrate on getting yourself to stand unaided.

A car came by, slowly. Drew to a halt. Another car came up behind the first car, tooted its horn. Why the hold-up?

The man who'd saved Ellie from being run over asked, `Are you hurt?' A deep voice, reassuring. Rough clothes, torn jeans. A workman? Big hands.

`Did you get their number?' The cyclist had a high, thin voice. She hauled her bike off the road and onto the pavement.

A man, a businessman, got out of his car. `What . . .? Are you all right, missus?'

Ellie nodded. She was, sort of. More or less. Blood was dripping off her chin onto her dress. She checked that she still had her handbag – which she'd worn across her body to deter muggers - and scrabbled inside for some paper tissues. Used them.

The child was crying, hopelessly. Ellie wished it would stop.

The businessman got his mobile phone out. The car behind him tooted again, then swung out into the road and went round him. The driver of the second car then saw what had happened and slowed right down. Traffic began to pile up behind him.

The cyclist leant her bike against the wall and bent over, retching. Ellie didn't want to look. Mia had her eyes closed. Just as well.

Two large women in their forties panted up. Dyed blonde hair strained back into unbecoming pony tails. Both were overweight, bursting out of tight sleeveless tops and even tighter jeans. `OhmiGawd!'

That was a prayer, not an obscenity. Please God, don't take it the wrong way. The women might or might not go to church, but they knew when God was needed in the aftermath of a tragedy.
Veronica Heley

http://www.veronicaheley.com/
Murder by Mistake, Severn House.
From http://www.amazon.com/ , and good bookstores everywhere.
Please do not reproduce without permission.