So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  “Step back in time to the battles that birthed a nation. Amber Lynn Perry transports you to America's Colonial era, where the struggle for freedom is wrought with sacrifice, danger, and suspense. Perry’s characters are endearing, her leading men swoon worthy, while her storytelling soothes the reader’s soul. It feels like a TV miniseries with characters you come to love and never want to leave.”

  ~ Paula Scott, author of Far Side of the Sea

  "Rarely do I find a book that hooks me from the start and won't let go until the end, but So Pure a Heart did just that. The romance was masterfully written, the historical era was vividly portrayed, and the plotline kept me on the edge of my seat. The redemptive thread, so carefully interwoven with the story, took me by surprise in the best way. As with the best stories, these characters will stick with me, and I can't wait to read the next book in this series to get to know them better!"

  ~ Heather Day Gilbert, Grace award-winning and best-selling author of The Vikings of the New World Saga

  "Oh, this lady’s pen—or should I say quill? It gets sharper, its words more lyrical, with each tale, whose ink writes itself across a reader’s heart. Hannah and Joseph’s romance is no exception—so beautiful and poignant, it lingers long after the last sigh. Huzzah, Amber Lynn Perry!"

  ~ Tamara Leigh, USA Today best-selling author of The Vexing

  So Pure a Heart

  Book 4 of the Daughters of His Kingdom Series

  Amber Perry

  So Pure a Heart

  By Amber Lynn Perry

  Copyright 2017 Amber Lynn Perry

  P.O. Box 4723

  4801 W Van Giessen St

  West Richland, WA 99352

  [email protected]

  Cover Design, Seedlings Design

  Cover Photo, Danyell Diaz Photography

  Published by Liberty Publishing

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogues are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in printed reviews and articles.

  Author/publisher contact information:

  www.amberlynnperry.com

  To those who sacrifice—may the love of Providence sustain you.

  Offer the sacrifices of righteousness, and put your trust in the Lord.

  Psalm 4:5

  Spying during the Revolutionary War was as real and dangerous as it is today. Only unlike today, it was often undertaken by regular civilians who wished to make themselves useful to George Washington and the Glorious Cause. Men and women alike volunteered to engage in covert operations despite the risk that if caught, their lives would be ended. (So though this story is fictional, much of its roots are based in historical fact.)

  The information provided by these valiant men and women made an indelible impact on the war, and without them, undoubtedly the outcome would have been different.

  We owe our freedom not only to those whose names we recognize but to the unknown Patriots who risked everything for liberty.

  Chapter One

  Alone, Hannah Young stared at the dirt-covered mound as the chilled air breached the warmth of her heavy cloak.

  Graves are sorry things.

  The words her uncle had spoken not an hour past replayed in her mind and held solid the reality she wished not to accept, but must. Her dearest aunt Bea, her friend and confidant—the woman she’d loved as a mother—was never coming back.

  Hannah looked up, gazing across the lonely hill, straining to gather any rational thought through the thick fog of sorrow. At the sight of the house a hundred paces away, and Uncle Ensign nearing the plot where she stood, Hannah’s eyes burned. There was nothing they could have done to save her. ’Twas Bea’s time, and God had called her home. Such knowledge should strengthen, should it not? Lowering her head, she smoothed her cold fingers around the soft emblem in her hand. It should, but it would never quell the pain. That she knew. For still she grieved the loss of ten years past, as if ’twas only yesterday.

  “Hannah, you should not still be here.”

  She glanced up at the sound of Ensign’s voice, then turned again to Bea’s cold resting place. “Perhaps.” She could say no more without weeping.

  “The others have long since returned home. As should you.” He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close as the gray clouds mourned over them. At long last his heavy tone returned to mingle with the air. “She loved you, my dear. More than you can ever know.”

  Nodding, Hannah’s throat grew thick, impeding the reply that wished for release. And I her.

  Ensign cleared his throat, but still his words came out thick and broken. “We shall always have the memories of our dear Beatrice. And though she is gone from us in this life, I know we shall see her in the next.”

  Hot streams of tears rolled over Hannah’s cold cheeks. “You have such faith, Uncle.”

  He released a quivering breath before his solemn reply. “I could not bear the grief if I did not.”

  Hannah allowed his words to rest in the wintery air, consumed by both love and heartache, before the thoughts she’d been forming found shape in her voice. “She was so good to me. She loved me anyway.” Hannah glanced down at the tiny knitted booties in her hand, speaking through the tears she could no longer restrain. “Both of you loved me despite everything, and I could never repay such kindness, no matter how I tried.”

  He tightened his loving grip and whispered in her ear. “There is nothing to repay, sweet child. She loved you as her own, as do I.” He coughed to clear his throat and straightened his stance. “Your father gave up a great treasure when he left you to us. He is a lost man. We must pray for him.”

  The tears halted at the mention of Philo Young, and she glanced up, unrepentant for the truth that spilled out. “I fear I have given up praying for him. He will never…” She couldn’t finish the rest.

  “Forgive me.” Ensign looked down at her, the deep lines around his eyes flaring before he kissed her temple. “I should not have mentioned it. I know how it pains you.”

  She glanced down at the booties once again and tried to speak through the strain in her throat. “That is not all that pains me.”

  An au
dible sigh left him, and he pulled her closer. “I know.”

  Hannah inhaled a choppy breath, attempting to cleanse away the dark clouds that closed upon her mind. “At times…at times it seems as though ’twas only yesterday. Then in the next breath, I feel ’twas a different lifetime.”

  The memories she wrestled gathered hard and fast, like storm clouds darkening an already bitter night. She shifted her feet and tucked the booties in her skirt pocket, attempting in vain to tuck away the thoughts with equal ease. “Without Bea—without you both beside me—I…” I would not have lived. Hannah looked away, unable to finish the thought aloud. “And now I shall never again be able to tell her how much I loved her, how grateful I am, how I shall never forget her.”

  Ensign released his hold and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “I heard you speak such to her every day.”

  “But it wasn’t enough.”

  “Dear child.” He kissed her hair once more, then moved back, one hand still on her shoulder. “You must return inside—I beg you. You have been too long in this chill.”

  He turned and started down the hill, but she called after him, the cold slowing her lips as she spoke. “Only a moment more, Uncle. I cannot leave her just yet.”

  Ensign stopped and glanced back at the grave, eyes red. Not moving his gaze, he answered her request with a pained smile to hide the quivering of his chin. Wiping a stray tear from his cheek, he took in a long breath, blinking as if he still struggled to accept the truth, the same as she. His mouth tightened, and he offered a quick nod before striding down the slight slope toward the house.

  The cold cinched harder, stinging Hannah’s cheeks as she stared at the earthen catacomb of her only and dearest friend. She looked up, blinking against the moisture in her eyes. She had Ensign, true. And Caroline. But her cousin was in Sandwich, and though their treasured letters brightened every week, Hannah could not fathom how she would endure every day without Bea’s smiles and humor, her light and wisdom.

  Again, she dropped her gaze, recalling Caroline’s most recent pleading. Nay. She hugged her arms around her chest under her cloak and rubbed them to fight against the cold. Never would she return there, no matter how her dearest cousin begged, no matter how lonely the years ahead might prove. Sandwich was the place of her youth, the place of her formative years, aye. But ’twas the place where her past still lived and breathed.

  She reached into her pocket, eyes trained on the clouded horizon. Circling her fingers against the memory, she pushed back the bitterness that pressed against the doors she’d hidden it behind. Here in Plymouth she had discovered the meaning of true caring, true love of family.

  Hannah tightened her fist around the soft wool as the face of the one man she longed to forget filled her vision as real as if he stood before her. She looked to the house to escape the illusion of him, but it lingered, forcing the imprisoned emotions to cry for freedom.

  ’Twas as much your doing as his, was it not?

  The wind whipped harder now, signaling the need to find refuge indoors. Loathing to part, Hannah blew a kiss toward the lonely mound, grateful, almost, for the distraction that allowed her to leave her post without weeping.

  Walking across the snow, she gripped her cloak, shivering as the memories thumped harder in her chest. Ten years had passed, and still she thought of him. Foolish. For surely he thought not of her.

  At the back step she clutched the handle, breathing away her past before she could enter. The light from the house peeked through the small cracks in the wood, like her hope that refused to die.

  After all they had done—after all they had lost—and still her heart betrayed her.

  She grasped the handle tighter and pushed the door open.

  She had forgiven him, aye. But she could never, ever forget.

  * * *

  Waiting at the back door of the Smiths’ home, Joseph Wythe peered at his young nephew who stood beside him, leaning against his crutches.

  Looking down, Jacob shielded his expression from both the snow and Joseph’s questioning gaze.

  The cold flakes that had fallen without ceasing since last eve dusted silently atop Joseph’s hat. He tightened his grip around the laden sack in his hand and exhaled a heavy breath that billowed white in the midwinter air. “Cold today.”

  Not looking up, Jacob adjusted his weight on the crutches and shrugged as Joseph knocked again.

  “Leg bothering you?”

  The boy didn’t answer. Joseph’s ever-ascending prayer filled his heart for the hundredth time that morning. Lord, be with him. And please, I pray thee, help him to know why I must do this.

  The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the house only seconds before Kitty Smith flung the door open, bathing them in warm cinnamon-scented air. “Good heavens! Forgive me. Have you been waiting long?” She swung sideways and ushered them in before resting her hand on the swell of her belly. “Come in, please. Let me take your coats.”

  “I cannot thank you enough.” Joseph watched Jacob maneuver his way inside, carefully placing his crutches on the first step before using his good leg to lead him into the house. Joseph followed close behind. Removing his hat, he closed the door. “You are sure your husband would approve? We are not inconveniencing you?”

  Kitty smiled, hanging their coats by the door before taking the sack from Joseph’s hand. “You two are old friends. Nathaniel would be aghast if you had Jacob stay anywhere else.”

  “But you…” He swallowed, unsure how to speak of the growing child in her belly without causing her to blush. “Are you quite sure? Do you feel well enough?”

  “Do not worry.” She smiled in gracious gratitude and placed the parcel on Nathaniel’s desk. “I have never been so vital in all my life.” With a polite touch to his hand, she turned to face her new house guest. “Good morning, Jacob. May I take your hat?”

  A tentative smile washed over his drooped expression. He removed his worn tricorne and handed it to her. “Good morning, Mrs. Smith. Thank you.”

  She hovered her hand at the boy’s shoulder and led them through Nathaniel’s study toward the parlor. “You cannot know how pleased I am to have you.”

  Jacob answered her kindness with a fleeting nod.

  “Do make yourself comfortable.” She hurried a few steps ahead and shifted the rocking chair to the side, allowing him an easier path to the couch.

  Joseph trained his vision on Jacob’s expression as he reached for the arm of the furniture and slowly sat, resting his crutches beside him. Not the slightest grimace of pain. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t become adept at hiding what ailed him.

  Kitty’s smile deepened. “Your company during these months will be a godsend, Jacob. Having a man in the house will ease my spirit greatly, I can assure you.”

  Mouth tight, fingers knotted, Jacob attempted another smile, but it died the second it touched his lips.

  Kitty glanced at Joseph, sympathy in the slope of her eyes. She bent to the table, her clear voice singing through the room as she prepared a steaming cup of coffee. “I should like to talk to your uncle for a moment.” Offering it to Jacob, she smoothed her hand over his shoulder. “I shan’t keep him long.”

  Jacob looked up, cheeks rosy and eyes hesitant. “Of course. Thank you.”

  Kitty grinned and turned toward Joseph, motioning back to Nathaniel’s study. Once there, she turned to face the parlor, her voice riding a whisper. “How is he doing?”

  Joseph’s insides churned, and he stared at the nephew he had come to care for as his own son. Matching his volume to hers, he sighed. “The pain in his leg seems to be fading, though I fear somehow the pain in his heart grows.” He shifted his feet, swallowing away the rising concern he’d battled to suppress for days. This boy had no parents or siblings, and now he, the only family Jacob had in the world, would leave as well? “I wonder if I am doing the right thing?”

  “Do you really wonder?”

  He met Kitty’s gaze, struck with a courage that
seemed to reach from the depth of her blue-green eyes to the center of his wearied spirit.

  “He is not a child, Joseph. He knows the significance of what you are willing to sacrifice.” She extended her arm and touched his wrist, the gentleness in her smile surpassing the vines of worry. “You must join the militia—join my husband and the others. You have waited long enough. Eliza and Anna and I shall keep Jacob well occupied until you return.”

  Would he return? Would any of them?

  A dense fog crept through him, and he lowered his tone even more to avoid the waver that rose in his throat. “Should anything happen to me—”

  “I’ve prepared a room for him.”

  Kitty’s abrupt words cut past the unpleasant thought, as if she knew speaking of such would bring too much gloom upon them both.

  “’Tisn’t much, but I did worry…considering what happened…” She pursed her lips and glanced to Jacob before she turned to the open doorway behind her. “’Twas the only space I had. Going up stairs would be too much for him of course, but do you think he…do you think I should offer it to him or not?”

  Joseph stared at the room only a few paces ahead from where he stood, shocked at how the memory of what had happened there made his insides harden. Stepping forward, he looked over what had been Nathaniel’s surgery room. The smell of blood and the gruesome sound of the saw cutting through bone filled his senses, but he shoved them aside. “I should think he would be grateful for a place to call his own. But I cannot know for certain how it…how it would be for him.”

  Kitty hurried in from behind. “I’ve removed the surgery table, as you can see.” Her expression was sweet but edged with apprehension as she sat on the bed and smoothed her hands along the quilt, as if to prove its worthiness. “You remember Anna Donaldson, Henry’s wife? Her father made the bed especially for Jacob. Anna and Eliza made the quilt.” She stood and motioned to the cabinet in the corner. “I’ve replaced all the medical supplies with books, paper, quill and ink—you said he enjoys reading and art?”