Geneva: Garden of Joy (Brides of Grace Hill Book 1) Read online

  Geneva

  By Lisa M. Prysock

  Volume 1. Garden of Joy

  Brides of Grace Hill Series

  Other Titles by Lisa M. Prysock

  To Find a Duchess, an Inspirational Regency Romance

  The Christian Victorian Heritage Series:

  Hannah’s Garden: a Turn of the Century Love Story

  Abigail’s Melody

  The Lydia Collection

  The Redemption of Lady Georgiana

  Protecting Miss Jenna

  Persecution & Providence

  Arise Princess Warrior, a 30 Day Devotional Challenge

  The Shoemaker, an Old-Fashioned Regency Christmas

  Story

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means- electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the author.

  Copyright © 2017 by Lisa M. Prysock

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design formatting by Lisa M. Prysock; front cover image contributed by woofie_2015 I SelfPubBookCovers.com. Clip art and illustrations used are public domain and illustrations by the author if any noted by initials LP or by Lisa Prysock, if any.

  For information or to contact the publisher or author:

  Lisa Prysock, 7318 Autumn Bent Way, Crestwood, Kentucky 40014, USA

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  This work is cataloged in the Library of Congress.

  Unless paraphrased, otherwise noted or indicated, all Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Copyright © 2017 by Lisa M. Prysock

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13: 978-1976254734

  ISBN-10: 1976254736

  Dedication

  In loving memory of Mama,

  Sharon Joy

  Forward

  Dear Reader,

  I began writing this book in February of 2017, but it became clear my mother had entered the final stages of her battle with cancer and the book had to be shelved. I decided to believe for a miracle up to the very end; a decision I don’t regret from the advice of others who have fought this alongside their own loved ones. It did make my grief harder, but it was something I had to do for Mama and to keep my own hope alive, though somewhere along the way the Lord called her home. Perhaps she had become too tired to keep fighting. In any case, I believe her work here on the earth was done and she was ready to go to her eternal home to be with our Lord.

  From February to May, life became a chaotic pace with homeschool, writing, caring for my own family, preparing our middle son to graduate, and giving our best care to Mom in every spare moment. The whole family, including nieces and sisters stepped up to help in the latter months of Mom’s life.

  An evangelist friend of mine prayed the Lord’s perfect will be accomplished as we became increasingly drained from the pace of caring for a loved one on top of an already full schedule. We placed the situation into the Lord’s capable and loving hands. Around the beginning of April, Mom had called in Hospice and a sister came to the rescue. She was able to give Mom full time care around the clock during her final two months. Together, we decided Mom should be transferred from Kentucky to Ohio where she could have time with the other children and grandchildren in the family. By June, she was gone.

  I was so thankful the Lord brought Mom to Kentucky for her final years to be with family. I was also thankful she had been given time with others in the family in Ohio. It was the hand of the Lord at work, preparing each of us for her passing. I was ultra-thankful she had minimal suffering. In all of this, the Lord was gracious, merciful, and compassionate to my mother and each member of the family. We had a blessed time with Mom in her final years enjoying shopping, holidays, birthdays, travel, sharing meals, and many pleasant days of being together. I am comforted knowing He can take better care of her than we ever could! I take great comfort knowing she is in a place where there is no more pain or sorrow. She is in perfect peace and joy with our Savior. How often the Lord has comforted me with these thoughts and reminders.

  My last day with Mom on earth was just a few days after her birthday. We had a three hour tea party complete with chicken salad on crackers and fancy tea cups with saucers. I played all of her favorite songs on my iPhone for her. We talked, we laughed, and we didn’t cry. I knew she might live another ten years, or she might not. We might yet have our trip to Ireland, England, France, and Israel together. I had plastered her walls with healing Scriptures from the Word and the names of the places we planned to visit. There were moments when I thought we might lose her before she had much needed time with other members of the family. I watched the Lord truly work miracles on her body giving her less pain, more comfort, and the addition of months to her life so additional family members could have time with her. The last weeks I had with her were amazing. We knew no matter the outcome, we would see each other again in eternity because of our faith in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.

  Can you have grief and joy at the same time? Yes, you can. Truth is what brings you out of the grief and places your focus back on what is truly important. I can’t really describe the grief when you lay your beloved mother to rest, the one the Lord chose to give life and nurture you. There is a place inside that really just breaks. As one dear writer friend said to me, does one ever recover from losing a parent? No, you learn to go on and be strong because you must. There are others looking to you and work to be done for the Kingdom of God. Besides, you have the well of salvation from which to drink. This joy of the Lord is truly our strength.

  During this time, I sometimes wondered if I could still write and not pour grief onto the pages of a story supposed to be about one of the fruits of the Spirit: joy! For a brief time on and off, losing Mom made it hard to write. There was the illness to cope with, then the loss, planning a memorial service, and finding closure to the grief. Every now and again, it still hits me out of nowhere, but sorrow is fleeting. How sweet the Lord makes each of my days. It is the deep down joy keeping me going and the joy of knowing Him! Each day is a new wonder filled with purpose and the Father’s good, gracious gifts.

  So, a few things about the book you may want to know… Geneva is Book 1 of a generational historical romance series beginning in the year 1857 of the Antebellum Era, leading to Book 4, a contemporary romance. Each book in the series has a focus on cultivating, discovering, and maintaining fruits of the Holy Spirit. The series aims to examine four of the nine fruits: joy, hope, faith, and love. I wrote Geneva with an appreciation for the joy of the Lord we carry within our hearts as Christians, a deep love for history, for all things English, with my love for Kentucky in mind, and for this particular era. Who doesn’t love a romance built around the days of beautiful plantation houses, fine southern gentlemen for heroes, and southern belles with strength of character?

  On these pages, you’ll meet Geneva and Ridge. Geneva is temperamental, strong, youthful, determined, and vivacious; but she also has a tempered and mature side beyond her years. She has complexities. Ridge is from a Virginia slave owning family, but not all of his story will unfold in book 1. He is the strong and silent type, has a complex background, handsome, observant, in his thirties, and mysterious. His story unfolds a little at a time, not only to Geneva, but to readers.

  The Civil War hasn�
��t happened yet. It’s brewing! Folks aren’t pleased at all by the new laws in affect giving slave owners more rights and penalizing those who aid slaves escaping to freedom. Also, as a side note, readers may appreciate knowing many of the rooms and areas capitalized in the Kentucky scenes indicate they have a formal title as they are part of the Grace Hill plantation and manor house. Slave catchers, slave owners, and abolitionists lived in Kentucky during the Antebellum Era making it a time of great tension. Slave auctions occurred in both Louisville and Lexington. The Ohio River was considered the Jordan River of freedom for a great many slaves if they succeeded in crossing it without being tracked all the way to Canada.

  I was truly thankful for the joy the Lord kept giving me through the writing of this novel even while facing a difficult moment in my life. Truly, our joy comes from Him and serving Him! Real, lasting joy and happiness are not based on our external circumstances. Like the New Testament Paul writes, we learn to be content in all circumstances. Part of our joy is a choice, part of it is the deep down joy we experience at salvation, and much of it is from cultivating this fruit in our lives by spending time with the Lord in prayer, worship, and in the Word. I cannot fail to mention I find one of my truest sources of joy in simply serving the Lord in paths He opens for me and loving others in any possible avenue and capacity open to me. So often, my serving is in the little everyday things like making dinner for my family and folding the laundry. Yet, this is an avenue to express my love and yields great joy in my heart.

  I wanted the novel tone to be somewhat on the humorous, light hearted, comical side. Certainly, there are some of these aspects in the story, but I thank you in advance for being forgiving when you read it. I really enjoyed researching many things about the Welsh people as the book begins in Wales where the heroine is facing a difficult situation. I hope you will not only enjoy the book, but find it an encouraging demonstration of how to weather the storms of life and sustain a deep abiding sense of joy in every circumstance. May the Lord richly bless, encourage, and inspire you with Geneva.

  Warmest Regards,

  Lisa

  Contents

  By Lisa M. Prysock

  Other Titles by Lisa M. Prysock

  Dedication

  Forward

  Contents

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  Chapter 13.

  Chapter 14.

  Chapter 15.

  Chapter 16.

  Chapter 17.

  Chapter 18.

  Power Verses

  Author Biography

  NOTES

  Chapter 1.

  The Little Welsh Princess

  Serve the Lord with gladness: come before His presence with singing. Psalm 100:2

  1857, a blustery, early January day

  Cardiff, Wales

  Mama stepped in the bedroom as she looked over her list for the day’s activities, mentally ticking off each of the items she had accomplished. “The stew is simmering and I’ve got an apple pie in the oven. How about a cup of tea before you leave for the mission?”

  “That sounds wonderful…” Geneva’s muffled voice returned.

  Mama looked up from her list. She couldn’t see her daughter anywhere. “Where are you?” She spotted Geneva’s low-heeled boots and the edges of her petticoat peeking out from the bed skirting. “What are you doing under the bed? You’ll rumple your dress under there!”

  “I’m trying to get Peaches,” came a muffled reply. The fiercely independent Rosemont daughter began pushing herself out from under the bed.

  “Since when do we keep peaches under your bed?”

  Geneva finally emerged, a pile of navy blue and forest-green, plaid skirts. She clutched a tiny calico kitten as she rolled over and managed to sit up. “Not those kind of peaches, Mama!”

  Mrs. Rachel Rosemont gulped when she spied the kitten in her daughter’s arms, but couldn’t hide a smile broadening a moment later. Her daughters were always one wonder after another, especially Geneva. “You know Papa is allergic to cats…”

  “Peaches, meet Mama.” Ignoring Mother’s initial reaction to the furry ball of love clinging to one of her hands as she stood up, she allowed her skirts to fall to the ground and shook the hooped petticoat out with her other hand. She thrust the kitten into her mother’s arms and glanced in the mirror to inspect the damages to her white blouse. No, she needn’t change her garments. Thankfully, only two curls needed tucked in place. A few specks of dust begged to be flecked from one sleeve.

  “Where did you find this adorable creature?” Mama said gently as the kitten purred and licked her fingers affectionately.

  “Polly asked me to keep an eye on her today as she intends to visit family and didn’t want to leave her alone,” Geneva explained.

  “Well, you’ll have to keep Peaches in your room this evening or Papa will have a coughing and sneezing fit.” Mama continued to hold the kitten close. “Let’s have that tea. Peaches can come, too. We’ll give her some warm milk.”

  Geneva Elaine Rosemont was peculiarly different from most other Welsh girls. She felt the difference sharply inside and did not quite know what to make of it, let alone how to embrace and fully accept these differences… or what to do with them. She instinctively knew she had a unique destiny mapped out for her by Providence Himself. By the time she reached the age of twenty and to the lament of her parents, especially Mama, Geneva had given up trying to fit into what society thought she should do; how she should behave; and what they thought she should become. She had her mind set on one thing: putting her talents to good use for the Kingdom.

  She couldn’t shake the calling no matter how hard she tried. Most days she felt like a misfit. Bravely, she forced herself to continue on, though other girls of her age were settling down into marriages and raising children. On good days, she could almost embrace the way she saw herself in stark contrast to her friends and family. Her vibrant personality seemed to shine brighter on those days. She wrapped her mind around all she could barely contain in her heart for the excitement and joy of her hopes and dreams as they blossomed, bursting beneath the surface of her spirit. Where had her desire to work in schools and in writing come from? She could barely put her finger upon it, but most of the time she knew it was the good Lord setting her apart and placing these dreams within her.

  Geneva’s dark mane of locks framed sparkling blue eyes filled with joy at each new adventure, glistening on even the cloudiest of days. Beneath the bonnet tied under her chin, curls edged a heart- shaped face, rosy cheeks, and naturally, ruby-red lips curved in a cheerful smile to the world. Mama’s words echoed through her mind as Geneva barely paid any attention to the familiar sight of Cardiff Castle. The castle appeared in the distance along her right as she continued walking on Castle Street, stepping around mounds of snow carefully, replaying her mother’s instruction--:

  “You need to settle down, stop turning away perfectly good marriage offers, and marry a good Welshman like your sister!”

  She pushed the echo away from her thoughts and continued her daily journey of crossing the city from the cottage vicarage on the northwestern edge. The cottage was pleasantly situated in a pleasant neighborhood not far from where Papa preached compelling sermons in St. John’s Baptist Church near the square and market place. The church wasn’t a cathedral, but with the bell tower looming up to the sky, it nearly resembled a grand cathedral. Her thoughts soon returned to the conversations about her duty to find a husband and settle down into having a family. Clearly, she found herself torn between her “duty” and the pursuit of teaching and writing. For now, teaching and writing won the pull of her heart. According to Mama, the vast majority of potential husbands would never consider all
owing a wife to pursue such notions, even though a queen ruled the nation.

  “There aren’t any good Welshmen left in this city, Mama!” Geneva had responded at tea.

  “Your father is a good Welshman,” Mama replied.

  “Of course, Papa is a good Welshman, Mama… from Scotland!” she laughed. In a more serious tone she added, “But he is already married to the most beautiful woman in Wales!”

  Mama had blushed, pretending to ignore the complement. “Frank is a good Welshman!”

  “Yes, Mama, but Lillian already married him and most men don’t understand women who always have their nose in a book!”

  “’Tis true, men wouldnaw understand you…” Mama had said in her Welsh accent. Then she shook her head, returning her attention to the sewing hoop in her hands, muttering under her breath as she threaded the needle. When conversations of such a nature ended, Geneva was usually left to continue playing the piano, scribble words in one of her notebooks from the parlor writing desk, or read a book on the wooden sofa bench beside the fireplace.

  Today, as she had prepared to leave for the mission, Mama interrupted her thoughts with, “I thought you liked that Bryn fellow.”