Debbie Kaufman - Journey of Hope

Marriage Is Not Her Mission

Escaping a society wedding, Annabelle Baldwin followed her heart to Liberia to pursue her calling as a missionary. But when an attempted kidnapping lands her under the protection of Stewart Hastings, Anna’s journey takes a new turn. The wounded war veteran needs a guide through the jungle. It’s a job the underfunded missionary can’t refuse, despite the feelings Stewart stirs in her guarded heart.

Stewart knows he won’t succeed without Anna’s expertise. And when danger puts her life at risk, he realizes he cannot live without Anna by his side. But what will it take for a man who has lost his faith to capture the heart of a woman who lives for hers?

“I find it hard to believe you wouldn’t have had a suitable proposal by now.”

“Many proposals, but none suitable. Ardent young men have made offers, some even impulsively after our first meeting. Once they realized I possessed strong ambitions, as well as a porcelain complexion, their ardor quickly cooled.”

He shook his head. “Hard to believe, Miss Baldwin.”

“If God wants otherwise, I trust he’ll send the right man into my life, one who will see my heart.”

Stewart’s voice took on an unexpected fervor. “Perhaps he did. Are you sure you’d recognize him even if he stood in front of you?”

Anna took a hard look at the man in front of her. She’d warned him about flirting with her on the ship, but this was a more serious tone. Had his flirting concealed something deeper? “Mr. Hastings, are you suggesting you’re the man God has sent for me to marry?”

DEBBIE KAUFMAN

As a child growing up in Kentucky, Debbie Kaufman never heeded her mother’s advice to get her nose out of a book—except when it was time to have adventures outside the written pages. Adventures like running a rural airport, working as a small-town journalist, teaching school and traveling to China to establish an adoption program, just to name a few. Of course, all these things were accomplished with a book in one hand.

While still searching for her next big adventure, Debbie enjoys creating action-packed historical romances on the written page for others to experience. Debbie currently lives in Georgia and enjoys spending time with her husband, their four children, three grandchildren and two dogs. She supplements her reading habit with the occasional crochet project, baking and visits to her favorite coffee shop, where she is often found writing her next book.

Journey of Hope

Debbie Kaufman

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

—Matthew 6:21

To Caroline, who put me on this missionary-writing path in the first place. Darling girl, your strength and beauty of spirit always leave me in awe.

To Dave, Dan and Emily, whose presence in my life is a constant blessing.

To my darling husband, who makes it all possible with his unconditional love.

To the Ladies of the Lake: Susan, Sandy, Sia and others. Your support is invaluable, your friendship a true treasure.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

Monrovia, Liberia

September 1920

When the annals of desperation were written, Stewart Hastings figured his name would have its own chapter. What was it going to take to acquire a competent guide into the Liberian jungle? Clearly his visit to this harborside tavern was another complete waste of time.

Six days to interview a promising list of a dozen names, and yet not a willing guide among them. The wages Stewart had offered the previous candidates should have been enough, but the joke was on him. Apparently he was the only man foolish enough to take big money for an expedition into cannibal territory.

He put his sterling on the wooden bar for the meal he’d just eaten, stepped outside and headed off to meet the final name on his list of potential guides. From his understanding of the street layout, his destination wasn’t far from the boardinghouse where he had rented a room.

The cool ocean breeze off the promontory invigorated him, providing momentary relief from the overheated barroom, whose smells of whiskey, palm oil and humanity had left him with a throb behind his right temple. The relief quickly faded as he walked the moonlit turf-covered streets. Whoever said tropical countries didn’t get cold had never been to Monrovia on a September night. After the daily rains let up, the temperature drop had him jamming his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders against the chill.

He couldn’t have come all the way to Africa only to lose his best hope of securing his and his ailing mother’s future. With little more than a day before his ship departed, the outlook was bleak. Exploring for minable geological deposits in a little-mapped jungle area was difficult enough, but add in cannibals and subtract a guide and the task became downright impossible.

His dead father’s drunken rants echoed in his memory. Maybe the son of a dockworker would never be more than a scholarship boy trying to shake off the stench of the slums. With no family name to propel him to success, failure was always a strong possibility. This time it wasn’t an option he could allow.

He had to persist. His mother’s heart doctor was right. Even without the results from that newfangled electrocardiograph machine, the signs were all there, no matter how she tried to hide them. She reached for her digitalis more frequently, became short of breath working in her garden. Spending her days scrubbing the floors of the rich was a ticket to an early grave. She needed the rest and diet the doctor prescribed. Stewart had promised her a better life the day they buried his father. Now that she was ill, he couldn’t fail in that promise.

He had to find a guide and meet his deadline. His hard-won degree from Harvard would mean nothing to his financial future if chaperoned by a reputation for failure.

He crossed Broad Street. Moonlight mocked the darkened light poles lining the avenue. Another confirmation of the government’s financial crisis, one his employer hoped would drive down prices for the Putu Mountains area mining concession they planned to make an offer on.

Clouds rolled across the moon, forcing him to temper his stride or risk a misstep. A figure came toward him in the dark. His hand reflexively moved to the knife at his side and then relaxed as the figure grew closer. A lone Liberian woman with a sleeping baby strapped to her back, hurrying along the otherwise deserted streets. A tiny prick hit his heart as he watched the child’s head gently bobbing with the mother’s swaying pace until the pair was out of sight. He’d always wanted a large family, but without a wife, that would never happen. Even if he was ever deluded enough to believe in love again, what woman would have him once she’d seen the scars the Great War had left?