By Liz Curtis Higgs
“A fantastic tale of redemption and recovery that may hot your middle through the Christmas season—or any time of year!”
—Francine Rivers, best-selling writer of Redeeming Love
Wrapped in a cloud of steam, the engine rolled to a cease, the screech of steel opposed to steel filling the frosty air. Snow blew around the railway platform and round Meg’s calfskin jogging boots. the elements certainly used to be no longer bettering.
She ordered tea with milk and sugar, eying the currant buns and candy mincemeat cakes displayed underneath a bell jar.
Later, maybe, whilst her urge for food lower back. in the intervening time her abdominal used to be twisted right into a knot.
“Anything else for you?” the cashier requested as she passed over the tea, steaming and fragrant.
Meg used to be shocked to discover her arms trembling whilst she lifted the cup. “All i would like is a secure trip home.”
“On an afternoon like this?” the round-faced girl exclaimed. “None however the Almighty can promise you that, lass.”
“A Wreath of Snow glows with heat, appeal, and beauty. an excellent read.”
—BJ HOFF, writer of The Riverhaven Years series
Christmas Eve 1894
All Margaret Campbell wishes for Christmas is a secure trip domestic. whilst her plans for a festive vacation together with her family members in Stirling disintegrate underneath the burden of her brother’s bitterness, the younger schoolteacher desires not anything greater than to come to the scholars she loves and town condominium she calls domestic.
Then an unforeseen detour areas her within the course of Gordon Shaw, a good-looking newspaperman from Glasgow, who struggles below a burden of regret and disgrace.
whilst the key in their shared historical past is published, will it go away them tangled in a knot of remorse? Or may their prior carry the threads that would bind their destiny together?
As hot as a woolen shawl on a chilly winter’s eve, A Wreath of Snow is a young tale of affection and forgiveness, wrapped in a party of all issues Scottish, all issues Victorian, and, specially, all issues Christmas.
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Extra info for A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella
Reuven asked. " "Who cares? Tell us already," Jake cried. "The goyische Bible," Reuven announced proudly. "Who knows where the goyim come up with all these other books we never heard of. ' Ha. " "It's Jericho's Bible," Jake said quietly, and Kitty shot him a disapproving look. Page 30 Jake had been waiting for a chance to go back and hear Jericho's preacher-voice floating in the air like smoke, so thick you could reach out and grab a handful of it. Then, finally, with everyone busy at their jobs, Jake was free from watchful eyes.
He wore his hat with the visor turned backwards, and he squinted through thick, wire-rimmed specs. His mouth was twisted. Jake guessed he had it pulled tight so he wouldn't say something he'd be sorry for later. Jake practiced that very trick sometimes, but it didn't usually work. Things blurted out of him all the time. It didn't work for Lank Beamus, either. The man took off his hat and stared into it as he said, "You got to give my boy a pass, Miss Leybe. " That made Jake wonder if God had actually spoken to Jericho.
Kitty sighed as she rocked the babies. The rebbitzen had put her in charge of Hannah and Judith and had relieved her of a lot of other responsibilities. Just bathing them took an hour, and feeding them from those tiny bottles still another hour. Now, when they smelled sweet and had full bellies, she held them and felt a twinge in her own belly, as though they'd come from her body. "Hadn't ought to live like that. " Lank drove a nail into the molding with two firm whacks that startled the babies, and when one cried, the other cried.