My Heart Remembers (26 page)

“Of course. And the first time I come back, you and I will go to dinner at the restaurant on the river. You can wear your trousers and stab your steak. It won’t bother me a bit.”

His lighthearted banter made her laugh. “That sounds fine.”

“Until then . . .” His hand slipped away, but he made no move to go. “Maelle, I wish—”

She placed her fingers against his lips. “No, Jackson. No wishes. Just prayers. You see, God has plans beyond your work with the children, but He also has a perfect time. I know that better than ever now.”

He kissed her fingertips before taking a wide backward step to the door. Then he remained there, one hand on the doorknob, one hand half reaching toward her. “But do you believe the time will come for us?”

Maelle closed her eyes, reliving the moments when she, her sister, and her brother shared an embrace under the Missouri sun. Opening her eyes, she curved her lips into a smile. “I think the time will come.”

Jackson’s fingertips grazed her cheek—a whisper touch that spoke more eloquently than words could. His gaze held her captive, his dark eyes conveying longing and . . . something more. And then, with a gentle nod, he slipped out the door.

A N
OTE
F
ROM THE
A
UTHOR

I
t is estimated that one million Americans are descendants of the 150,000 children who were sent from crowded cities in the East to new homes in the West between 1854 and 1929 on what were eventually termed “orphan trains.” I am proud to say I am among those descendants. Not by blood, but by heart.

In 1968, my paternal grandfather married a woman I already loved. Helen Haak had been my babysitter from the time I was born until our family moved from Hillsboro to Garden City, Kansas, in mid-1963. So many of my favorite childhood memories involve this sweet-faced woman whose arms seemed designed to bestow hugs.

Taking care of children was nothing new to Helen. Although she desperately wanted children of her own, she was unable to carry a baby to term. So she became a surrogate mother to children whose parents were unable or unwilling to care for them, fostering more than a dozen. She could reach out to these children with empathy since she knew the pain of being parentless. When she was still a toddler, her mother passed away and her father chose to relinquish her. Helen rode an orphan train and was taken in by a foster family.

Hers, unfortunately, wasn’t a happy-ever-after story. Like many of the train riders, she was never formally adopted, and she grew up feeling as though she didn’t quite fit in. Yet, rather than wallowing in bitterness, she chose to open her heart to other people’s children.

I can only hope she found a measure of acceptance from the love of those for whom she cared. I do know there was never a happier little girl than I the day my dear “Tantie” (my childish attempt at the German word
tante
, meaning “aunt”) married my grandpa and officially became my grandma. Although she passed away in 1979, Helen lives on in my memory as my grandmother—not by blood, but by heart.

So, Tantie, grandmother of my heart, this story is my gift to you. Thank you for the love you freely poured into me. It is reciprocated a hundred times over.

Kim Vogel Sawyer

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

A
t an American Christian Fiction Writers’ conference in September of 2003, three other authors and I planned an anthology project—four novellas under the title
Ties to Home
, which would tell the stories of four orphan-train riders reuniting in adulthood. The anthology project was declined, but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone. I asked these three ladies if they would be opposed to my using the initial idea with different characters for a single, full-length story. They graciously offered their blessings, and away I went. It delights me to no end to thank Lena Nelson Dooly, Susan K. Downs, and Lisa Harris for their excitement when the idea was presented and their words of encouragement as I forged forward alone. Your belief in the story made me believe in it, too. Thank you!

And Susan, extra thanks and a super-sized hug for the research materials you willingly shared. What a blessing your friendship is to me!

None of my stories would find their way from my thinker to the computer without the support of my family. Thank you, Don, and my beautiful daughters, for sharing this journey with me.

I owe a huge thank-you to my parents, Ralph and Helen Vogel, for indulging my curiosity about things past and always encouraging my imagination. A child never had two better parents than the ones God gave me.

As always, my critique group deserves praise for their great suggestions. I wouldn’t survive without Eileen, Ramona, Staci, Margie, Crystal, and Donna. Thanks, ladies, for your continued efforts on my behalf. ( Jill and Ramona, thanks for the advice on the Irish brogue—what a huge help you were!)

Prayer support is invaluable, and I’m so grateful for my prayer warriors—Kathy, the choir at First Southern, Don and Ann, Rose, Carla, Cynthia, Connie . . . You bless me every day.

Special thanks to my agent, Tamela, for believing “someday” would come.

I am always grateful for the support from my editor, Charlene, and the staff at Bethany House. What a great bunch of people you are!

Looking back, there are a number of authors who have inspired me either through their novels or through their words in e-mail or in person. I’d like to thank Deborah Raney, Tracie Peterson, Brandilyn Collins, Joyce Livingston, Judith Miller, and Janette Oke for reaching out to a nervous, wannabe author and making her feel as though she could find her place in this writing business. I appreciate you more than words can say.

Finally, and most importantly, thanks be to
God
. He alone brings dreams to reality and makes them sweeter than the dreamer imagined. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to You.

KIM VOGEL SAWYER
is fond of C words like children, cats, and chocolate. She is the author of eleven novels, including the bestselling
Waiting for Summer’s Return
. She is active in her church, where she teaches adult Sunday school and participates in both voice and bell choirs. In her spare time, she enjoys drama, quilting, and calligraphy. Kim and her husband, Don, reside in Kansas and have three daughters and four grandchildren.

M
ORE
H
EARTWARMING
H
ISTORICAL
F
ICTION
F
ROM

Kim Vogel Sawyer

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My Heart Remembers

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Waiting for Summer’s Return

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