Hope Between the Pages by Pepper Basham (ebook reader for surface pro .txt) 📕

Clara raised the letter so that both she and Max could read the sentences reflecting Mrs. Carter’s words.

Thank you for your generous contribution to me and my sister’s efforts. You are one of the few people in the world who knows the truth of my specific situation and I appreciate your discretion and kindness. In answer to your previous questions, we have housed more than fifteen women in the past year and helped them to achieve independence either through their own employment or a happy marriage. Some came to us without any skills to recommend them or to help provide for themselves and their unborn children. I’ve employed a few in the bookshop, especially those who have had difficulty in finding suitors or positions, and some have been hired to help in your dairy, as you know. All have kept their children, except three, who found adoption to be the better choice for their children’s futures. I am happy to say the children have been placed in loving homes.

Anna has proven indispensable in the navigation of so many people and has seemed to find her fit in our little “world across the pond,” as she phrases it. We have paired Bible study and classic reading to provide the women with education for their souls, their minds, and their enjoyment. It also provides wonderful opportunities for them to increase their points of conversation when seeking husbands, should that be their hope.

Lark and I devised a special inauguration of each woman’s exit from our care. On the day they leave, they carve their names on the largest wall of the upstairs room in the bookshop—the room they use as their quarters.

We have kept your support anonymous so that the actions of these women, or the perceived immorality, will not negatively reflect upon Biltmore in any way, but please know, your generosity has led to many women not only re-creating their lives, but some of them have even started their own businesses. Society often sees a “fallen woman” and nothing else, but each one of them has a story, and each deserves the opportunity for a new beginning.

During our last conversation, Oliver encouraged me that if the worst happened I should not waste my grief. Together, we dreamed of Blackwell’s Books, and now, through knowing him, I have embraced another dream, one I am certain he would have encouraged with the same enthusiasm and magnanimity as he had for almost everything. It’s remarkable how courage can be born from the love and confidence of another.

As to my beloved boy, John is happy and strong and so much like his father. Oliver would have adored him. When he laughs, I humor myself in imagining the sound bursting through the clouds of heaven just so Oliver will hear. He still fills my heart and memories. I have no wish for another. My life and dreams are contentedly wrapped up in loving my son, serving these women, and growing this bookshop.

It is strange how dreams can shift and change but the heart behind them beats with the same desire as when those dreams were forged. Books and imagination brought me love. Love inspired my hope, and hope led me to purpose…to serve others through generosity, kindness, and…books. Isn’t it a wonder how God fashioned my desires into a greater story framed in by a beautiful binding —like the two covers of a book.

Please continue to pray for these women and their children. Hardship and injustice are heavy burdens, but hope and courage prevail.

Yours respectfully,

Sadie Blackwell Camden

P.S. Thank you for addressing me by my married name in our private letters. It is sweet to sign as the bride I once was.

“I’m sorry.” Clara wiped at her eyes. “I just can’t seem to help it when I read her letters, knowing how much she must have loved Oliver and then lost him.”

She took Max’s faithful handkerchief and smiled at him before returning her attention to the letter. “This tells us that Sadie not only came back to Asheville and opened Blackwell’s, but she helped these broken women.”

“That’s what I surmised as well,” Mrs. Carter said. “On the second floor of the bookshop, it seems.”

“Have you ever found markings on the walls, Clara?”

She shook her head at Max’s question. “We’ve never known to look for them. Dad replaced the bookshelves on one entire wall of the second floor about six years ago, with plans to replace the other ones at a later date, but…” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think those names could still be there? After all this time?”

Max tilted his head, one brow raised like a question mark.

Clara stood. “Mrs. Carter, do you think I could get a copy of this—”

“I already made one for your records.” She produced a page in hand. “But you must call me and let me know what you find.”

“I will.” Clara took Max’s hand and they walked toward the door. Sadie’s story had taken on its own rhythm, even apart from finding the deed. She needed to know what happened with her greatgrandparents, and, hopefully, in the process, save Blackwell’s.

Clara needed to know the rest of Sadie’s story. More than Sadie’s romance, or her bookshop, she needed to know about the possibility of another very special scene in a quietly remarkable life.

Chapter 23

Oliver’s absence created an odd sort of loneliness. In all my life, I’d never truly experienced the emptiness of a vacant space, because I’d found great contentment in the imaginary worlds of so many stories. But, in truth, as remarkable as fiction painted the world and even lingered within my spirit, it couldn’t replicate real life or the companionship of the man I’d grown to love.

Anna proved an excellent cook and companion. Once she overcame her overall mistrust of my acceptance of her, we readily engaged in book conversations and mutual dreaming. In fact, when I shared the plans Oliver and I had for a bookshop, she offered to