Through the Deep Waters (51 page)

The day was infused with love. From Mr. Irwin, who’d insisted on providing a sumptuous wedding feast in the ballroom, free of charge. From Ruthie
and her family, who had assisted in planning every facet of the event. From Rueben, who’d traveled all the way from Chicago to stand in as Dinah’s father. And mostly from Amos, whose tender, attentive gaze raised tremors of eagerness to speak the simple words—
I do
—that would bind her to him for all her living days.

Looking back, Dinah decided everything from Amos’s straightforward proposal to this simple outdoor wedding was perfect. She no longer needed a fairy tale. Real life—God’s amazing gift of this steadfast, honorable, big-hearted man—was so much better than any storybook account.

She forced aside her reflections to focus on Preacher Mead, whose voice, although at full volume, held a tenderness as he completed his reading. “ ‘And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.’ ” He closed his Bible and unfolded a slip of paper. Looking first at Amos, the minister said, “Amos, repeat after me …”

Dinah listened as Amos promised to love her, provide for her, support her in good times and bad for the rest of his earthly life. She marveled at the intensity in his dark-blue eyes, the sincerity in his tone. Oh yes, no prince could compare to the man God had chosen for her. When it came her time to speak her vows, her voice trembled, but Amos’s tender smile encouraged her, and she finished on a strong note.

Preacher Mead turned to Amos. “Amos, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Not even a second of hesitation followed the question. Amos declared, “I do.”

And then it was Dinah’s turn to respond to Preacher Mead’s query concerning her taking Amos as her husband. She replied through happy tears, “I do.”

“The ring,” Preacher Mead prompted Cale, who stood beside Amos with his skinny shoulders so squared he might have been a soldier on parade. The little boy dug in his pocket and withdrew a slim gold band. The minister took it and gave it to Amos.

Dinah passed her bouquet to Ruthie, who served as her attendant, then
held her hand to Amos in readiness of him slipping the ring onto her finger. Although his callus-roughened fingers shook slightly, he managed to slide the band of gold past her knuckle where it nestled against the resized promise ring he’d given her for Christmas. The two were perfect together. Just as she and Amos were perfect together. She raised her beaming smile to him and found his dear face blurred by her veil of happy tears. But even through the watery sheen, she couldn’t miss the happiness glowing in his eyes.

“Amos,” Preacher Mead blared in a joyous tone, “you may kiss your bride!”

Heat flooded Dinah’s cheeks as she tipped her face to her groom. Her eyes slid closed when his lips descended—warm, salty yet sweet, firm yet gentle. The kiss of a true prince. More tears rolled down Dinah’s face as she received Amos’s kiss with complete trust and the absence of any unpleasant recollections. She could have remained there forever, with his lips on hers, but Cale gave a whoop, and the townsfolk burst into laughter followed by thunderous applause, and Amos stepped away. But the promise in his eyes told her she could expect another kiss later. She nodded her approval.

Ruthie swept her into an exuberant hug, whispering in her ear, “Oh, Dinah, aren’t you so glad you aren’t a server? Isn’t marriage to Amos so much better?”

Dinah couldn’t agree more. From Ruthie’s embrace she turned to Rueben. She gasped when he captured her in a hug so tight it stole her breath. He’d never touched her—not in all her growing-up years—yet receiving this hug from him seemed right somehow.

She rested her cheek against his broad chest. “Thank you for coming, Rueben. You’re the only friend I ever had.”

He pulled loose and his solemn gaze roved across the people crowding the lawn and surging onto the porch to offer congratulations. “It seems to me you’ve got lots of friends now.” He cupped her face in his big hands and briefly touched his lips to her forehead. “That’s what matters, Dinah—now. You’ve done good, made something of yourself just like I knew you could. I’m proud of you.”

His words were something a father might say. Dinah’s heart filled, and she rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Then she caught his hands. “I wish you didn’t have to go. Chicago is so far away …”

An odd smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Well, Chicago’s always been my home. But my little Dinah had the courage to start over somewhere new. It just might be you’ve inspired me to strike out for a new start, too. I noticed there’s a little storefront for sale that could make a very nice café. Maybe I’ll stick around and give that highfalutin hotel chef a little competition.”

Dinah stared at him in wonder. But before she could question him, a warm, familiar hand touched the small of her back, and Amos’s tender whisper reached her ear.

“The party is starting. Are you ready?”

She turned to tell him yes, but instead something else left her lips. “Can’t we just go home?”

Amos drew back, surprise evident in his expression. “But the party … the food and music Mr. Irwin arranged. You don’t want to stay and enjoy it?”

Dinah considered his question. All she really wanted was to go home with Amos. Her husband. Her God-chosen love. “I’d really rather just be with you.”

An understanding smile broke across his face. “That’s what I want, too.”

Behind her, Rueben cleared his throat. “Um, Dinah?”

Both Dinah and Amos turned to him.

Rueben scratched his cheek in a sheepish gesture. “If you’ll accept some uninvited advice, go to the party. It’s in your honor. Amos’s folks and other kin are there. The townspeople from where you’re making your home are there. These people are your family and friends. Show ’em you appreciate them coming here today by spending some time with them. You’ll have plenty of you-two time when the day is over.”

Dinah consulted Amos with raised brows. He peered down at her, indecision thinning his lips. Then he nodded. “I think he’s right, Dinah. We should go.”

She sighed. “All right.” She tipped her head and fluttered her lashes at him in a teasing manner. “But only for a little while. Yes?”

Rueben burst out laughing and clapped Amos on the shoulder. “This is what’s known as compromising, boy, and if you learn to do it early, you’ll have a lot fewer disagreements with your wife.”

Amos showed Dinah he didn’t mind compromising by bestowing a quick kiss on her smiling lips. Then the three of them joined the celebration taking place in the hotel’s ballroom. Despite Dinah’s initial desire to sneak out early, she had such fun talking and laughing and getting acquainted with Amos’s mother and sisters-in-law, they stayed until all the townsfolk departed and Amos’s family headed to their rooms. Mr. Irwin invited the two of them to enjoy supper in the dining room before leaving for the farm, but Amos politely declined with the excuse he needed to see to the animals.

So Dinah thanked her former boss for all he’d done to make their day a special one, hiding her smile at the man’s flustered blush. And then she and Amos walked hand in hand to the carriage house where Jehoshaphat Isaac waited within the traces of a boxy delivery wagon—a wedding gift from Amos’s family. Although at least twenty years old, the wagon wore a fresh coat of paint, compliments of the local wainwright. The man had also covered the springed seat with brown leather and inserted isinglass in the window openings, giving the conveyance a sparkling new appearance.

Amos paused beside the wagon, his gaze traveling over every inch of the wooden box painted a cheerful celery green. He touched one finger to the bold yellow letters proclaiming A
CKERMAN
F
ARM’S
Q
UALITY
E
GGS
& P
OULTRY
on its side, the gesture almost reverent. “Do you know what this means, Dinah?”

She blew out a dainty breath, considering how much easier Amos’s deliveries would now be. “It means you don’t have to load your eggs in a child’s wagon anymore.”

“That, and even more.” He faced her, his expression serious. “This tells me my father approves of my choice to raise chickens instead of growing wheat. For generations, first in Germany and then in America, the Ackermans have been wheat farmers. He was so disappointed when I left the family farm. But this …” He touched the wagon again. “This says what his words cannot. He approves.”

Dinah’s heart swelled. She stepped against Amos, wrapping her arms around his torso and clinging, reveling in the freedom to do so whenever she pleased because she was now his wife. “God is good.”

Amos’s arms closed around her. He rested his cheek on her hair for a moment before kissing the crown of her head once and then again. Setting her aside, he smiled into her face. “Mrs. Ackerman, are you ready to go home?”

“Home …” Dinah released the glorious word on a contented sigh. “Oh, yes.”

Amos assisted her onto the high seat, then climbed up and settled himself close beside her. He took up the reins and gave a flick. “Giddyap there, Ike.” The wagon lurched forward, the leather seat squeaking as their weight shifted. Dinah wrapped both arms around Amos’s muscular upper arm and rested her cheek on his shoulder. He tipped his head to press his chin to her temple.

A clear blue sky served as their canopy as they rode through the early evening across the railroad tracks and out of town. Birdsong trilled from the treetops, the Kansas breeze carried the essence of musky soil and burgeoning plant life, and a yellow sun beamed its warmth as it slipped toward the horizon. Ike’s hooves clip-clopped a steady beat, stirring dust that whirled in little wisps into the thick green growth alongside the road.

Dinah drew in a lungful of the unique summer perfume, savoring its essence. She hugged Amos’s arm. “It’s perfect.”

“What is?”

She smiled up at him. “Everything.”

Amos smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “As you said, God is good.”

Dinah tipped her face to receive his kiss on her eager lips, then settled her cheek on his shoulder again. Indeed, God was good.

D
ear Reader,

Thank you for visiting Florence, Kansas, and the Clifton Hotel. I rarely set a story in something other than a fictional community because I worry about getting the facts wrong. But I wanted my wannabe Harvey girl to come to the first hotel owned by the man credited with bringing culture to the West. (You can read more about Fred Harvey, his restaurants, and the Harvey girls at
www.kshs.org
.) Despite intensive research, I’m sure there are some places where whimsy has overridden fact. Partly because much of Florence’s history records were lost in floods, and partly because I’m human. I hope historians with a close tie to Florence will forgive any discrepancies.

This story, more than any other I’ve written, is close to my heart. Dinah is a fictional character, but unfortunately her experience is far too real. Statistics show that one in every five girls and one in every twenty boys will be sexually molested before they reach their eighteenth birthdays. Childhood sexual abuse steals a child’s trust and innocence and creates tremendous scars that often haunt people well into their adult years. My heart breaks for those who struggle with relationships, who battle trust issues, who view themselves as unworthy, who use alcohol or drugs to numb the pain, who hide their feelings of shame beneath a mask of indifference or perfection or promiscuity because of someone else’s selfish choice.

Dinah found release from her burden of shame when she reached out in faith to the One who knows all and can heal all. I pray if you are struggling with the residual pain of childhood sexual abuse, you’ll accept Ruthie’s advice to Dinah: You shouldn’t feel shameful over what someone else did. The shame isn’t yours to carry. Give it to Jesus and walk in freedom.

May God bless you abundantly as you journey with Him!

Kim

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, heartfelt appreciation to my family—
my husband, my parents, my children
—for your support and encouragement. I could not meet the challenges of this writing ministry without you!

My sincerest thanks to
Phoebe Janzen
from Florence, Kansas, who opened the Harvey House Museum for me and shared her wealth of knowledge about the first Harvey-owned hotel. Your passion for history and specifically the Harvey legacy is contagious. I’m glad you helped me catch the “bug.”

Hugs to my
critique partners
. Every writer needs a cheer squad. I’m so grateful God blessed me with you.

Shannon and the fabulous team at WaterBrook
, I marvel at your talents and abilities. Writing a book truly is a team effort, and I have been gifted abundantly by becoming a part of your team.

Finally, and most important, deepest gratitude and endless awe to God. Without Your healing touch, I would still be buried beneath the burden of shame, leaning on a cane, trying to earn my way to worthiness. Thank You for being my Healer, my Savior, my Enough. There is such joy in being whole. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.

D
ISCUSSION
Q
UESTIONS

1. Dinah was born and raised in a brothel. People in town viewed her as tainted and rejected her because of her connection to the Yellow Parrot. Was this a fair response? Do we sometimes make assumptions about people based on their associations? How can we be fair in our treatment of those who come from questionable home situations or backgrounds?

2. When Dinah agreed to meet the gentleman in the hotel room in exchange for money, her motives were good—she wanted the money to care for her mother. Her choice goes against the biblical admonition from 1 Corinthians 6:18 that instructs believers to flee from sexual immorality. Because Dinah wasn’t a Christian when she went to the hotel, does that absolve her from responsibility for her decision? Why or why not?

3. Amos suffered an injury that resulted in a lifelong physical abnormality that left him feeling less worthy than his able-bodied brothers. Was his view of himself understandable? How would you have advised Amos? How can you help those you know who face physical challenges to feel capable and confident?