“Led you to me?” she whispered, again trying to follow and yet not. She didn’t know how it was possible, but staring at his mouth, she could almost feel his lips on hers. “That land has always been my . . . favorite place.” Her voice caught. “That’s why you saw me there that day. Being there helps me to feel my family’s love and . . . to remember I’m not alone.”

“Savannah Darby,” he whispered, tipping her chin upward. “It’s nice to finally, formally, make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, Aidan Bed—”

He kissed her full on the mouth, a touch of mint on his breath. His lips were gentle at the start, then gained insistence. His hand moved to cradle the nape of her neck, and he deepened the kiss. She felt the delicious sensation all the way to the tips of her toes and back. But too soon, he broke the kiss and drew back slightly.

“Since I’m assuming you won’t be open to selling your land, Miss Darby, I’m wondering if we might work out another arrangement.”

All the warm places inside her warmed even more. Remembering how Jake had held a straight face longer than anyone she knew, she did her best to keep her humor in check. “And just what kind of arrangement are you referring to, Counselor?”

He smiled, then set aside the box and deed and took her in his arms. He kissed her again and cradled her face in his hands. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve thought about you? How much I’ve wanted to be with you? Ever since that day I saw you in the meadow. Ever since you said that to me.” He briefly closed his eyes. “ ‘But if everything in the world were such as this, where would the longing for heaven be?’ ” He kissed her again, slower this time, as though savoring her as she was him. “I’ll do my best to make this house your home again, Savannah. The same for Andrew and Carolyne.”

She peered up, eyeing him. “You know about Carolyne too?”

“I’ve been doing my homework.” He broke into a grin. “We’re already well on our way to filling this house with children, Savannah.”

Her cheeks flamed, but she smiled. “I’m afraid we Southerners don’t speak so openly of such matters . . . Aidan.” She spoke his given name softly, and his eyes warmed.

“I’ll do my best to remember that.” He reached for her hand and entwined his fingers through hers. “And I’ll do my best to make you happy.”

“No need to worry on that count. I’m finer than a frog’s hair split four ways.” Seeing the surprise on his face, then how his smile faltered, she laughed. “That’s something Jake, my oldest brother, used to say. He was always making us laugh.” She briefly bowed her head. “He was killed in the war.”

“Your brother,” he whispered.

An urgency in his voice brought her head up. His eyes had gained a sheen—and a seriousness that leveled the emotion in the room.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Only one other person I’ve known has ever used that phrase.” He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “Where did your brother die, Savannah?”

She searched his eyes. “Near Charlotte, North Carolina. Why?”

He exhaled.

When he didn’t answer, she retrieved the family photograph from the box and pointed to Jake. “You would have liked him, Aidan. And he, you.”

He took the picture from her, his hand shaking, and stared at it for the longest time, then looked at her. “I knew him, Savannah,” he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. “I knew your brother. We—” He took a breath. “We met in a field one day. Between battles.” He stared at the picture. “He spoke with such love of his home and family. It made me want what he had. He’s why I’m here. We were on opposite sides of a bitter war, but . . . we were friends. However briefly.”

Her chest aching, Savannah gripped his hand, unable to speak.

“I saw him get shot. I ran to him, but”—he shook his head—“there was nothing I could do. He died right there . . . in my arms. I closed his eyes, but . . . I swear I saw heaven in those eyes before he passed. Along with a peace I knew I wanted in my own life. And found . . . soon after.”

As Aidan stared at the image of her brother’s face in the photograph, all she could picture was Jake’s sparkling smile, his laughter. And him lying there on the battlefield in those final moments. “He didn’t die alone,” she whispered, searching Aidan’s eyes, remembering how many times she’d prayed for that very thing. For both her brothers and her father. “You were with him.” She smiled through tears. “At the very last . . . he wasn’t alone.”

A faint smile tipped Aidan’s mouth. “ ‘Finer than a frog’s hair split four ways.’ Your brother had a unique way of phrasing things. And his love for his family and this land . . . it’s what brought me here.”

“It’s what led you to me,” she whispered, touching his face, silently marveling at God’s quiet orchestration of lives and realizing she’d likely never know how often the Almighty did this. How often He interlaced such painful parts of this earthly journey with such joyous ones, weaving them together with such skill and grace. And beauty.

And she’d be forever grateful He did.

Almost three months later

“TOSS ME THE BALL THIS TIME, AIDAN!” ANDREW YELLED.

“No!” Carolyne called. “Toss it to me.”

Aidan grinned. “I’m going to toss it to the one person who isn’t yelling at me right now!” He lofted the baseball in the air to Savannah, who caught it one-handed, then threw it back—right between her brother and sister down the road leading to the house. Carolyne took off running for it, but Andrew in his newly fashioned boots and leg braces gave quite a respectable chase.

Savannah laughed, watching them.

Aidan came up from behind and slipped his arms around his wife. She leaned back into him, and he felt as though he had the world in his embrace. A breeze stirred the trees overhead, and leaves of burnished gold and crimson fell like snowfall in autumn.

Savannah sighed against him. “Mrs. Eleanor Geoffrey at the Widows’ and Children’s Home said to thank you again for the draperies. She told me she never dreamed they’d ever have draperies so lovely.”

“She’s welcome to them. I’m just grateful you’d saved the ones from our house.”

“Our house. I love the sound of that. Though I still can’t believe you had me continue to sew the curtains even after you knew you didn’t want them.”

“I had to have some reason to keep you coming back out here. Until I was ready”—he kissed her left hand, looking at the gold wedding band and band with companion diamond—“to give you this.”

She turned in his arms and kissed him, which earned a wince from her younger brother and a smooching sound from her little sister. Which didn’t bother him or Savannah in the least.

Mrs. Pruitt rang the bell beside the front step, signaling lunch was ready, and they ate at the table on the porch, Mrs. Pruitt included. The older woman adored Andrew and Carolyne and was happier than he’d ever seen her. He looked around the table at the faces and knew that no amount of human orchestration could have brought together what had happened here—and on a faraway battlefield in North Carolina.

Jake Darby . . . Nashville.

His throat tightened, thinking about that young soldier, and he pledged again—as he did every day—that he would not only live this life to its fullest, but that he would live it for the One who had given him life.

He and Savannah had looked up the scripture reference scribbled on the back of the sketched likeness of her grandparents. Deuteronomy 29:29: “The secret things belong unto the Lord our God: but those things which are revealed belong unto us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law.”

The verse had become even more touching when they’d discovered the note Merle Darby had written beside it in the margin, almost hidden in the binding of the Darby family Bible. Along with the verse, Aidan had committed it to memory. “May what is hidden within the covers of this book bring life to the souls of my children and also serve as an inheritance, both in this life and in the one to come.”

And the date written beside the note, April sixth, eighteen hundred and sixty-three, was the same as on the back of the drawn likeness of her grandparents. As best they could piece together that was the date Mr. Darby had finally told his wife about the land Savannah’s maternal grandfather had left to their oldest child years earlier.

Aiden realized they’d likely never be certain, but they guessed that Melna Darby had refused the land due to the rift between her and her father. But Merle, in wisdom and love for his wife and children, had accepted it, then had held it in trust all those years.

Thinking again of the scripture and note, Aidan intended to do all he could to make good on Merle Darby’s petition for the Darby family. His family now.

Savannah disappeared and returned minutes later. “Be careful. It’s hot!”

“Ooh!” Carolyne swooned. “Peach cobbler! That’s my favorite. It’s heavenly.”

The golden-brown juice from the cobbler had bubbled over and baked onto the sides and looked every bit as good as Aidan knew it was. Savannah spooned the flaky crust and savory fruit into dishes, serving him first, then Mrs. Pruitt, then her siblings.

And with every bite, he thought of Nashville. And of home. Both this one and the better one to come.

DEAR READER,

Thanks for taking yet another journey with me. Your time is precious, and I appreciate you investing it with me.

The idea for To Mend a Dream came while I was writing To Win Her Favor (a Belle Meade Plantation novel) and when I first met Savannah Darby on the page. Savannah is a secondary character in that novel, but her story and all that she’d been through and endured in her young life spoke to me—and demanded its own story.

I love stories about hidden things. A hidden letter, message, or treasure. A trinket with a special meaning that’s discovered only once the mystery is solved. But I’m so grateful that in Christ nothing is hidden.

He sees everything. Both the good and the bad in all of us. There’s no use pretending with Him. In fact, pretending with Him is really only pretending with yourself. I firmly believe in God’s master plan in our lives and in how He weaves our lives in and out of one another’s, like He did with Jake, Aidan, and Savannah.

If you’re hurting right now and are wondering if Jesus sees you, rest assured that He does. And He not only sees you, He’s working for your eternal good this very moment, working in details of your life He has yet to reveal to you, and that you may never know about until we reach Home. But trust Him. He’s working.

As Proverbs 16:9 says, “We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps” (NLT). And aren’t we grateful He does?

For you baking enthusiasts, I’m including the recipe for Savannah’s Truly Southern Peach Cobbler featured in the story. This really is like the “good ol’ days” cobbler my granny Agnes Preston Gattis used to make. Hope you enjoy!

I’d love to hear from you! Let’s connect through one of the venues listed on my About the Author page.

Until next time . . .

Tamera Alexander

Thanks to my fellow Southern authors—Dorothy, Shelley, and Elizabeth—for partnering with me in this collection. I’m honored to call you ladies colleagues . . . and friends. My thanks also to my HarperCollins publishing team. What a pleasure it is to work with each of you. Continued gratitude to Deborah Raney, my critique partner for over a dozen years now, for sharing her talent and laughter with me, and to the Coeur d’Alene ladies for brainstorming this novella during last summer’s five days of “plotting, praying, and praying.” I look forward to our time together all year. To Jerry Trescott, bless you for sharing your extensive knowledge of architectural history. To Natasha Kern, my literary agent, you’re simply the best! And thank you, dear reader, for taking these journeys with me. Your enthusiasm and eagerness to read is such an encouragement to me as I’m writing. I always love hearing from you.