When Hearts Rekindle

By Janet Nitsick

Thunderbolts echoed and rain pelted down as distraught Betty Chapman stood in agony to express her heartache from a broken courtship in Janet Syas Nitsick’s new clean, historical romance, When Hearts Rekindle. This is her third and last book in the Great Plains Series.

To escape her pain, Betty travels from Elkhorn to Omaha, Neb., in 1894 to attend the Immanuel Lutheran Hospital Nursing School. While being escorted there during a blizzard, she and her driver become stuck and happen to arrive at the home of the Knudsons. This is where Betty meets Russ Knudson. He instantly takes stock of her familiarity to Gwen Ward, the beautiful woman he courted until she chose another. That similarity and the possibility of another heartbreak, Russ places distance between Betty and him.

However, Betty is not the only problem Russ faces. He and his father have secured a bank loan on the hope that their steer would win a blue ribbon at the upcoming county fair. Then they could sell that beef for a high price and pay off what they owed. But the banker wants Knudsons’ land, and he and his cohorts will do everything to prevent them from doing so.

When Hearts Rekindle is a suspenseful, touching story about two lost souls searching for love but unable to embrace it, and a farm placed in jeopardy by the foolish actions of Russ and his father.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Parchment & Plume, LLC
• Release date: Jan 13, 2018

Janet Nitsick

Acclaimed author Janet Syas Nitsick publications include "The Silver Lining," a 10th place Writer's Digest contest winning story (a free read on Smashwords.com); best of year book, Seasons of the Soul; five-star, historical Christian romance; Her Husband's Secret (formerly published as Lockets and Lanterns); and the Great Plains Series: Courtships and Carriages, The Bride List and When Hearts Rekindle. Sweet, clean, Christian historical romance. Great Plains Series: Courtships and Carriages, first in the series. Two proposals which one will Gwen choose? The Bride List, second in the series. Will Annie Lee win the man she desires? When Hearts Rekindle, third and last in the series. Can two lost souls find forever love? Anthologies with Ruth Ann Nordin include Bride by Arrangement (Janet's story is She Came by Train) and second in series A Groom's Promise (Janet's story is When the Whistle Blows). In She Came by Train, Opal Preston leaves Virginia for the desolate land of Lincoln, Neb., in the spring of 1876 to become the governess of two children of a widower businessman. Her employer and a preacher from Virginia vie for her affections but only her heart will determine if she returns that way. When the Whistle Blows, Hugh Warren paces outside the depot, waiting to see if his love, Winifred Preston, will step off the train to meet him. He only had himself to blame for his predicament. Could she give him another chance? He did not know. Heart in his throat, he looks this way and that hoping against hope she did not already marry the beau back in Virginia. Her Husband's Secret (formerly titled, Lockets and Lanterns) is an inspiring and gripping tale. It takes readers back to the 1900s when life was simpler, but sustaining love was just as difficult. (His secret ... Her broken heart.) Seasons of the Soul, a book similar to Chicken Soup for the Soul books, includes faith stories and a spattering of personal accounts about the author's two different autistic sons - one high-functioning and verbal and the other low-functioning and nonverbal. The author is a former journalist and language arts teacher. She is the daughter of late Nebraska State Sen. George Syas. Janet earned her bachelor of arts degree from Omaha’s College of Saint Mary as a nontraditional student. Visit Janet's Web site: www.JanetSyasNitsick.com for more information about her and her books.

Book preview

Chapter 1

November 1893

Elkhorn, Nebraska

Standing beneath Pilgrim Presbyterian Church’s weeping willow tree, Betty Chapman raised her face to the heavens and shouted into the charcoal night-roiling sky, Lord, help me!

She lifted her fist to the streaks of lightning, demanding God to heal her heart. But only thunderbolts echoed in return. She dropped her arm as the swift, cold winds coursed around her. I must get home. I must!

Rain pelted the crisp fall leaves lying on the ground. Wanting to maneuver her left leg forward, she stood still as if iron weighed it down. A branch cracked in the distance. Turning to the noise, the gaslight illuminated and glowed upon a familiar frame. Her father rushed to her. He was the reason for her troubles.

He stood in front of her and a minute later embraced her. She gulped down the anger growing in her. She shivered, not so much from the chilly air but from her father’s touch. She whimpered, I can’t go on.

Yes, you can, honey. Another round of thunder rang out before rain splattered the earth. He gathered her inside his Indian rubber greatcoat to shelter her. You’re going to be all right. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I had your best interest in mind.

Oh, Papa, if only I could believe that. Her lips quivered as she forced the words out.

You’re cold, he said in a soft tone. As he pulled her closer, raindrops dripped down from his hat, the chilly, wet drops landing upon her hair. I’m sorry.

But you ruined my life. She gulped and through clenched teeth, she said, I’m sure you meant well.

I did even though you probably don’t believe me. We’re going home. We’ll talk more about this later, but right now we need to get out of this impending storm.

But, Pa, this was the last place I saw Jim. It’s—It’s a place of refuge.

Another lightning bolt jolted across the heavens. The Lord is telling us to get you to safety. His voice rose. Listen to me!

I don’t want to go! Her mind screeched. However, she knew she must. Soon the rain would fall in sheets, and they would be drenched. Her pa pushed her forward. She moved, and within minutes, the two ran to their house. They stood at the doorstep.

Get inside! he roared as he pulled the door open for her.

Betty stepped into the house. She hated it when he got agitated and bellowed. Biting the anger building up inside of her, not for his tone, but for him breaking off her courtship with Jim, she took a long breath to calm herself. After all, she needed to show him the respect he deserved. Yes, Papa.

He stood beside her, both dripping water onto the wooden floor. Studying her attire, his voice softened. Honey, you’ve got to get out of those clothes.

I know.

Jim had eyes for another.

Did you hear that from that lying Presbyterian president, who also thought sweet Jim was capable of those immoral allegations? Betty retorted in a spiteful tone.

He stood silent a few seconds before he spoke. Yes, but also from others. Gossip travels quickly around here, but I also saw him with another.

Water dripped down her clothes. She stared at the developing puddle on the floor. Did she dare say what was on her heart? Taking a long breath to steady her nerves, she said, Gossip. That’s the problem with this small town, and they say they’re a Christian community. Their behavior, though, says otherwise.

Yes darling, but sometimes rumors are true, and this time they were.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She still refused to believe him. However, deep inside her, she knew she did not want to believe the truth. Why did Molly visit Pilgrim Presbyterian Church that day months ago to talk with her about Jim? She always thought there had been more to Molly’s visit than finding out the date of Jim’s seminary hearing. At least, her instincts had told her this.

Her mother, Pearl, rushed toward the two of them, carrying a towel. Get out of those clothes the both of you, or you’re going to catch a bad cold.

Betty shook her head, sprinkling her hair’s raindrops into the air.

I knew I needed this towel. Pearl smiled then dabbed the cloth over her daughter’s head. Now, you take that dress off, or I’ll paddle your backside like I did when you were little. Turning her attention to her husband, Homer, she added, And, you, too.

You mean I need to take off my dress, or you’ll whip me? Pa said in a teasing voice.

Of course not; I don’t see any dress on you. Pearl giggled.

He laughed a second before his face formed a frown. He cleared his throat then drew his attention to his daughter. Sweetheart, I never meant to hurt you. Please believe me!

Betty did not know how to answer him. She took a deep breath to calm her ire before she spoke, Perhaps, but your action caused me much pain just the same.

I’m sorry for that, but I do believe it was for the best. His voice broke. Turning his gaze to his wife, he said, I’m going to get out of this suit then bed the horses for the night. He hastened to his bedroom.

Mother glanced at Betty. She stopped drying her daughter’s hair. He means well, honey. Indeed, he does.

She knew he did, but yet she could not allow herself to admit it. After all, there had not been another suitor before Jim or after him. One thing she did not want to become was one of those old maids. She witnessed enough of them to observe how bitterness consumed them. They were lonely and busybodies, watching everyone else’s business.

The cold sensation seeping inside her boots made her lower her gaze to her feet.

See, her mother asserted, pointing to the water pool, you need to get out of those boots and the rest of your clothing.

Resigning herself to the inevitable, Betty gave her ma a half-hearted smile before hurrying to the stairwell to climb the steps. Her room was the first one on the right. Not a big place, but Betty loved her wrought, iron bed, which was located underneath a double window decorated with pure-white lace curtains. In the left corner, stood a wardrobe. That wardrobe, made of cherry wood, was one of Betty’s favorite pieces since it had belonged to her grandmother.

Sitting beside her bed was a dresser with a small round, brass mirror above it. Glancing into the mirror, her blood-shot eyes peered back at her. She had to get over Jim. She had to.

Her soaked clothes stuck to her like mortar does to brick. She peeled off the shirtwaist then stripped down to her corset. The wear of sleepless nights had caught up with her. She darted a look at the bed. Could she just lie down for a few minutes? Her eyelids drooped. Taking a deep breath, she forced them open. She yawned.

The bed looked too inviting. She succumbed. Within minutes, she pulled back the bed sheets to snuggle under the wool blanket and her starburst-flowered quilt with petals of pink, green, black and white. Rain poured down, bringing in the crisp air through her narrowly opened windows.

Pearl mopped up the puddles then took the drenched towel to the sink to wring it out. Her husband entered the kitchen. She looked over at him. You’re done already?

Yup, they still had hay so gave them oats.

Good. She wrung out the last drop of the towel and placed it beside the sink to dry. You want a spot of tea, as the English would say?

Of course, we’re English folks too, so yes. She filled up the copper teapot and set it on the stove to heat before she sat down across from her husband. I’m so concerned about Betty. She’s not been sleeping and now darting out in the rain without a thought to the consequences.

I know. I’m worried, too, and she hates me as well. His voice broke.

You did the right thing by breaking up that courtship. She would’ve been miserable with a man who didn’t love her. She reached her arm across the table and squeezed her husband’s hand a moment. The word already had spread that the Presbyterian Theological College president had permitted Jim to court his former classmate, Annie Lee. They just had not had the nerve to tell their daughter, for they knew it would distress her even further.

What about checking in on Betty?

I’ll do that in in a little while. The kettle rattled. Pouring the water into the teapot along with tealeaves, she then grabbed two gold-rimmed china cups, decorated with mandarin-orange flowers burst with cherry-sized roses to wait for the tea to steep. What are we going to do about her?

I don’t know. He paused. It’s difficult to believe she could fall for a man that fast.

Yes, I suppose, but it’s her first love and I remember my first love.

You do? Homer asked in a surprised voice.

Of course, I married you six months later. She rose to her feet then poured the tea into the cups before she settled onto her seat once again. Pearl lifted the china to her lips and took a sip of the hot liquid. She glanced at her husband and sighed.

You sorry about marrying me? he asked in a teasing tone.

No, not at all. Perhaps love developed that quickly for her as well.

I suppose, but in her case, that’s not good. He swallowed some of the tea and gazed at his wife. Nice and hot on a rainy, cold night.

Men. They avoid subjects when it involves matters of the heart. She clamped her teeth together, for if she did not, she would say something she would regret. Right then, she knew she would be the one who would have to come up with a solution. But how could she solve this? Time. The word blasted inside her head. They say time heals all wounds.

Yes, so?

Perhaps, time away from here is the answer.

But, where would she go?

I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. She swallowed the last of her tea. Well, I’d better look in on Betty.

I’m going to bed. Got a busy day with several clients needing legal advice. He rose to his feet and headed for their bedroom.

Pearl examined her teacup for a minute then strode to the staircase. As she ascended the stairs, her ears picked up moaning. Oh my God, she’s sick. Taking two steps at a time, she reached Betty’s door. The room was as cold as frozen snowflakes. She raced to the windows and slammed them down. "Betty, Betty, are you okay?

Betty’s eyelids flickered open then closed. She groaned.

Ma pulled back the damp covers to acquire a better look at her daughter. Pearl’s eyes grew wide, as she witnessed the child she had given birth to, wrapped in soaked garments. She had to get her out of these clothes. Winter fever ran through her mind since people had died from getting chilled. Pearl was determined to not let that happen to her daughter.

She searched the wardrobe for a nightshirt. Smiling, she snatched a high-necked, floor-length cotton nightgown with long, ruffled sleeves. This would keep Betty warm. Dashing to Betty, she lightly tapped her daughter’s arm. You’ve got to get out of those wet clothes, or you’ll become sick. Do you hear me?

Her daughter jerked. Goosebumps formed on Betty’s arms.

Wake up. It’s your mother!

Lips trembling, Betty pried her eyelids open. She turned her face to her mother. Where am I?

You’re in your bedroom.

Oh. Her brow knotted. She searched the room. My head hurts. She rubbed her temple.

You’ve got to get into this nightgown and out of those garments. Can you stand up?

I think so. Betty wiggled to the side of the bed, placed her feet on the wooden floor before she stood up.

Now obey your mother. Take off those clothes.

Betty gulped then stared down at her wet undergarments. I actually slept in these?

Yes.

Ma, what’s wrong with me? But she knew the answer. It was her broken heart.

Chapter 2

Betty’s eyes flew open at the sound of a horn, drifting in through the cracked, open windows. Only the physician’s vehicle had a horn. What was the doctor doing here? Lightheaded, she scooted herself to the bed’s edge, and with a wobbly step she propelled herself upward. Inching to a window, she shakily pushed back the curtain and peered out of it. Dr. John Wilson reached for his bag before he stepped down from his midnight-black carriage. The stout man, wearing an out-of-date top hat, strode toward their front door. Ma came running toward him, beckoning him inside.

I wonder what this is all about? Betty’s brow furrowed. It couldn’t be about me, could it? Then, she glanced at her checkered green-and-black nightshirt and remembered last night when she dashed outside in the rain. But even if her actions were irrational, they stemmed from her emotional state, not her physical health.

Taking a step forward, she teetered a second before she steadied her footing to maneuver herself to the washbasin. Pulling off her nightshirt, she grabbed the white-ironstone pitcher to pour water into its basin. She shook at the thought of that cold water brushing against her skin.

Inhaling a deep breath, she dipped the linen towel into the water and dabbed it over her face, underarms and pressed it over her breasts. A fresh towel hung beside the basin. She reached for it and in quick strokes wiped her upper body. At the pounding of footsteps up the stairs, Betty braced for the knock upon her door. The rapid taps came next. Yes?

It’s your mother. The doctor’s here, and I asked him to stop by and see you. She paused. Are you dressed? It’s two o’clock, honey.

I just woke up and finished washing a minute ago.

Are you feeling well?

I am. Just a little unsteady but fine.

Then put on your clothing, and I’ll tell Dr. Wilson you’ll be down in about fifteen minutes. He’s waiting in the parlor.

Betty clamped her lips together. Mother could be impossible at times, and this was one of those. Why did she call the doctor? She was up to something but what? After slipping on her petticoat, Betty went to her wardrobe, swung the wooden doors open and studied the dresses. What could she put on quick? She shook her head at the silver-gray shirtwaist. The skirt was dotted with sunny-yellow and lilac-purple flowers and was accented with two, three-inch rows of lace. Beautiful. But, too, fancy for being around the house.

She glanced to her left. There hung a forest-green gown adorned with bows and a bustle. No, I need something more ... What was the word? Liberating. Gazing right in front of her, she saw a calico prairie dress with leg-o-mutton sleeves and a v-line waist. Perfect. Sliding it over her head, she buttoned the front before lacing up her golden brown boots.

Rising to her feet, she teetered a second before she caught her balance, opened the bedroom door then navigated to the staircase. Bracing her hand on the rail, she maneuvered down the stairs. She lumbered forward and entered the parlor, where the doctor sat beside her mother on the maroon-covered settee. He stood up and greeted her.

Nice to see you, Miss Chapman.

Isn’t he going to examine me? What were Mother and the doctor up to anyway?

Mother cleared her throat. "I – I invited the doctor to