Hope Between the Pages Pepper Basham (thriller book recommendations TXT) 📖

“And Enoch could use some help, which would also give you ample opportunity to research how to tend such a shop for…” His brows wiggled playfully. “A certain brilliant couple’s future.”

“You are a very smart man.” We resumed our walk, my grin brimming wider with each step.

“Smarter now.” He placed his hand over mine resting on his arm, and breathed out a sigh. “How I wish I could slow the hours to days.”

It was the first time he’d mentioned leaving since I’d arrived. The first glimpse of regret in his voice. My heart lurched against the reality. “We shall live off of every hour. Each one. Scenes in our own story that we can revisit when we’re apart.”

He bathed me in such a tender smile my eyes stung. “My favorite story.”

“And mine.”

We toured a few more shops, Oliver instructing me on which ones had credit in place for me and which to avoid. He took me on a walk over a lovely stone bridge back to the church where we’d been married, and we sat on a bench by the lake and talked and laughed and created yet another scene for our story.

Dinner with Helen brought its usual delights, with her ready wit and pleasantness. She informed us that the cook she’d recommended to us was to be married within the month, so Oliver and I had an assignment of locating a new cook before he left, if possible. Helen offered a few options for us to pursue.

We walked back to our little castle, hand in hand, the night sky rife with millions of stars. Silence accompanied our steps, perhaps brought on by his earlier acknowledgement. We’d barely made it into the door of the gatehouse when he turned to me and pulled me into his arms, cocooning me within his embrace. I buried close, eyes closed, memorizing every touch and scent. His heartbeat thrummed against my ear, steady and strong. I turned ever so slightly so my lips rested against the skin of his neck just above his collar. He smelled of vanilla, fresh air, and the leather lining the inside of his jacket collar. I refused to cry. Tears weren’t meant for now. Not when he was here, holding me, brushing kisses against my head and face.

I had never looked for romance, but God brought me Oliver…and more love than I ever imagined a heart could hold. His fingers worked their way up into my hair, his careful practice from the last few days removing pins, releasing locks to fall around my face. I pushed his jacket from his shoulders and then cradled his cheeks with my palms, speaking without words.

With a gentle smile, he led me up the stairs and through our library to our bedroom, and we wrote another beautiful scene in the story of our lives. A scene only meant for us.

While Oliver discussed a few matters with Mr. Chase, the banker, I made my way across the street to Enoch’s to inquire if he would be willing to allow me to learn his trade once Oliver went to the front. The man offered a sly grin, studying my lovely navy walking suit. “You’re too much of a lady to work here, Mrs. Camden.”

I teased the older man with a crooked brow and placed one hand to my hip. “What would you say if I told you I have plenty of practice not only working, but working with books.”

His white brows tipped skyward. “So it’s true, is it? Mr. Oliver married a—” He lowered his voice. “Were you really a housemaid, then?”

My grin grew and I nodded.

“I say…” He pushed a hand through his snowy hair, causing it to rise to new heights. “And you’d want to be here? Working in a shop?”

“I’d like to volunteer my time at first, to learn how the shop works, but then, if you think I’m worthy of pay, I’ll take that too.”

He chuckled and rubbed his chin. “Aye, that sounds like a plan then. Won’t I be the talk of Fenwick with the new Mrs. Camden in my shop.” His expression sobered and he cast a glance over his shoulder. “Since you was who you was and all, maybe you could…” He cleared his throat and stepped closer. “I heard tell from Mrs. Helen that you and Mr. Oliver are looking for a cook.”

I searched his face. “We are.”

“My Anna, here. She’s a hard worker, and if anyone’s learned from their mistakes, it’s her.” His voice rasped with emotion and he blinked more rapidly, clearing his throat again. “Do you think the two of you would consider her?”

I can’t explain it, but my heart squeezed at the way this uncle cared for his fallen niece, his gentle entreaty to offer her something more.

“Do you think she could come to the Camden gatehouse for an interview Monday morning at ten?”

The man’s smile stretched into a dozen wrinkles. “I’d say she would be there at sunrise if you let her have the chance.”

“Then I look forward to seeing her Monday, bright and early.” I put out my hand and he took it. “And keep in mind my request, Mr. Enoch. I plan to spend my time with Oliver before he leaves for the front, but once he’s gone, you can be sure I’ll become a fixture here, if you let me.”

Chapter 20

Grace Chapel, a remodeled church braced on the edge of the mountain and overlooking Lake Derwentwater, offered a wonderful combination of charming townsfolk, beautiful atmosphere, and excellent preaching. Clara didn’t know the melodies to some of the hymns they sang, but a few praise songs were familiar. The church fit within the quaint town of Fenwick as perfectly as stone walls and sheep pastures, and with Max to one side—in another bow tie— and Gillie on the other, Clara felt as if she’d belonged to this little world for much longer than almost a week.

How could that be?

What a wonderful thought that God dwelt