Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Tracie Peterson is the bestselling, award-winning author of more than 80 novels. Tracie also teaches writing workshops at a variety of conferences on subjects such as inspirational romance and historical research. She and her family live in Belgrade, Montana.

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Hope Rekindled

Bethany House Publishers

Chapter One

"You ... you can't marry him," Jake Wythe declared, taking Deborah Vandermark by the arm. He swayed for a moment, then pulled her with him to the far side of the porch. "You can't."

Deborah broke loose from his hold. "Jake, don't be ridiculous. We've been through this. I love Christopher. This is a celebration of my upcoming wedding, and I will thank you not to embarrass me by making a scene." Deborah hoped her words would somehow sober him a bit. "Let's return to the others."

"You only wanna ... wanna marry him because he's a doctor. You want to be a doctor and figure this is ... is the way to get that done."

"Nonsense," Deborah said, putting her hands on her hips. "If I only wanted to train to be a doctor, there are other ways to accomplish the task without committing my life to someone. Now, if this is all you came to tell me, I'm going back inside to be with my guests."

"He's an Irishman!" Jake declared, stumbling forward.

Deborah stopped and looked at him. The fact that Christopher Clayton was truly Christopher Clayton Kelleher was wellknown in her family and circle of friends, but why Jake thought it important to bring it up now was beyond her.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Jake. You've saved my life more than once, but I don't love you. We're just good friends."

He pushed her back against the house. "But I love you. Don't you understand? I want to marry you. It should be me." He took hold of her face rather roughly and covered her mouth with his own.

Deborah fought against his hold. His breath reeked of beer as he sought to deepen his kiss. She tried to claw at his face, but Jake quickly pinned her arms.

"I can make you ... happy," he murmured against her lips.

"Stop or I'll scream!"

She didn't need to. In a flash, G.W. had yanked Jake away from her and onto his backside. Standing over the smaller man, Deborah's brother shook a fist at him. "Of all the dumb things. What in the world is wrong with you, Wythe?"

"I love her. She shouldn't ... shouldn't marry the doc. She ... she ... she should marry me."

"You're drunk." G.W. reached down and pulled Jake to his feet. "You're drunk and you attacked my sister. Get out of here and don't come back. You're fired."

Jake looked at him, confused—as if the words didn't make sense. He stumbled back against the porch rail, then lurched toward Deborah.

G.W. grabbed him and threw him off the porch. "I said to get on out of here. We don't tolerate drinkin', and we sure don't allow for drunks to attack our women." Jake landed in a flurry of dust. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Deborah. I love you."

Christopher came to her side. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a quizzical stare. "What's this all about?"

"Jake wants me to marry him instead of you. He's been drinking and he ..." She paused a moment, unsure of what to say. "Well, he forced a kiss on me." She tried to sound casual, but in truth it had really shaken her.

Christopher frowned and looked to where Jake was just picking himself up off the ground. "Are you all right?" he asked, his hand stroking her arm in concern.

"I'm fine. Let's just go back inside." Coming alongside her brother, Deborah put her hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, G.W." She refused to cast even the briefest glance at Jake, which only caused him to call after her.

"Do you hear me? Deborah? I love you, Deborah. I love you."

Mercifully, as she drew nearer to the house, the music drowned out Jake's pathetic cries. A little band of local talent played while others danced and laughed in celebration of her upcoming nuptials. Apparently Jake had decided to forgo making merry, preferring to numb his pain and bolster his courage with liquor. She glanced around the room, wondering if others were also imbibing.

"Why were you outside?" Christopher asked. She shrugged. "Jake asked me to step onto the porch with him so he could tell me something. I had no idea that he'd been drinking."

Christopher led her to where the refreshments were laid out and poured her a glass of punch. "I'm sorry I wasn't with you."

"There was no reason to believe you needed to be." Deborah took the glass from him." It's best we put it behind us now."

He narrowed his gaze and tilted her face to the light. "You may have a bruise."

She touched her free hand to her jaw. "Oh, bother. Well, it's a week until the wedding, so it should fade."

"Just a week," he said with a grin. "Seems like an eternity."

Deborah laughed. She sipped the punch and gazed out at the people who'd come to her family's home to share their revelry. Mother and Arjan were dancing, as were others. G.W. and Lizziestood to one side. As Lizzie drew her husband's hand to her lips, G.W.'s deep scowl softened. No doubt his thoughts were still on Jake Wythe. At Lizzie's kiss, however, his outlook appeared to change. Deborah could see that her friend had a soothing effect on G.W. Lizzie motioned to his leg and he rubbed it, but nodded. G.W. had nearly lost the limb and his very life when he'd fallen from a tree over a year ago. He'd worked hard to recover, although he still was not up to dancing.

"Would you like to waltz with me?"

Deborah looked at the man who would soon be her husband. "I would like that very much." She allowed Christopher to take the glass from her and place it on the table. He extended his arm and she smiled. They might live in the seclusion of the Big Piney Woods, but they were still quite civilized when it suited them.

Christopher placed his hand upon her waist, and Deborah found girlish joy bubble up from within as they swayed to the music. She remembered the first time she'd been at a barn dance—the first time she was actually allowed to stay up for the dance itself. She had been fourteen and quite enthralled to discover what went on at such events. Her steps had been more awkward back then, and she'd mashed and bruised her fair share of toes. The gangly girl she'd been had grown up, however, and she easily kept stride with her husbandtobe. She had never been happier.

"I wish we could bring your family here for the wedding."

Christopher shook his head. "It's far too costly. I promised my mother we would come for a visit in the summer if all went well."

The music ended and the fiddle player declared he needed a break to smoke his pipe. The band disbursed and the dancers headed for the refreshment table.

"I can hardly wait to meet your mother. She sounds like a wonderful woman," Deborah whispered as Christopher led her to the side of the room.

"You two are very much alike," he replied. "You are both very intelligent, although my mother never had the chance for school—at least nothing more than grade school. But she's a determined soul, nevertheless, and taught her children to read and encouraged them to attend school. She would appreciate your stance on education being of the utmost importance." Christopher leaned closer. "It looks as though there are ladies who would like to speak to you. I'll go talk to G.W. and thank him again for rescuing you."

Before she could reply he was gone, and Deborah found herself half circled by several women. Mrs. Perkins and Mrs. Huebner were on her right, while Mother and Dinah Wolcott were on her left. Lizzie and the pastor's daughter, Mara, made their way to join her, as well.

"So is your gown...