Remembered (Fountain Creek Chronicles Book #3) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Tamera Alexander

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224 pages

English

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The threat of war--and a final request--send Véronique Girard from France to a distant and uninviting country. In the Colorado Territory, she searches for the man who has held her heart since childhood--her father. Pierre Girard left Paris for the Americas to seek his fortune in fur trading, vowing to send for his wife and daughter. But twenty-five years have passed and his vow remains unfulfilled. Sifting through shards of broken promises, Véronique embarks on a dangerous search for a man she scarcely remembers. His grief finally healed, Jack Brennan is moving on with life. After years of guiding families west, he is now working as a freighter to the mining towns surrounding Willow Springs. What he doesn't count on is an unexpected traveling companion on his trips up into the mountains, and how one woman's search will cause havoc with his plans . . . and his life.

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 juin 2007
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781585588909
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0259€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Praise for the F OUNTAIN C REEK C HRONICLES
Alexander has written a charming historical romance that features well-drawn characters and smooth, compelling storytelling that will have readers anxiously awaiting the second installment of the F OUNTAIN C REEK C HRONICLES . Highly recommended. . . .
- Tamara Butler , Library Journal (Starred Review)
It s a pleasure to read this debut book. Rich prose, a realistic setting and characters, and a compassionate story of love will keep you turning the pages long into the night. . . .
- Romantic Times TOP PICK (4 stars)
[A] tenderhearted story of redemption . . . Rarely does a debut novel combine such a masterful blend of captivating story and technical excellence. Alexander has introduced a delightful cast of winsome characters, and there s a promise of more stories yet to be told.
- Kristine Wilson , Aspiring Retail
Book two in the F OUNTAIN C REEK C HRONICLES is a winner. Alexander deftly portrays the heroine s wounded soul and her struggles with regret while being careful not to reveal anything too soon.
- Bev Houston , Romantic Times
This second book in the F OUNTAIN C REEK C HRONICLES reveals the power of love and forgiveness. All of the characters in the story are interesting and complex, even if they play minor roles. A warmhearted inspirational story.
- Nan Curnutt , Historical Novels Review
Tamera Alexander s characters are real, fallible, and a marvelous reflection of God s truth and grace. Her stories unfold layer-by-layer, drawing you in deeper with every page.
- Sheryl Root , Armchair Interviews
Rekindled has been named to Library Journal s Best Books of 2006 list and is a nominee for Romantic Times s Best Inspirational Novel of 2006.
Books by
Tamera Alexander
FROM BETHANY HOUSE PUBLISHERS

F OUNTAIN C REEK C HRONICLES
Rekindled
Revealed
Remembered
Fountain Creek Chronicles (3 in 1) T IMBER R IDGE R EFLECTIONS
From a Distance
Beyond This Moment
Within My Heart
T AMERA A LEXANDER
FOUNTAIN CREEK CHRONICLES | BOOK THREE
REMEMBERED
Remembered Copyright 2007 Tamera Alexander
Cover design by Studio Gearbox Cover photograph by Steve Gardner, PixelWorks Studios, Inc.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise-without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers 11400 Hampshire Avenue South Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Alexander, Tamera. Remembered / Tamera Alexander. p. cm. - (Fountain Creek chronicles ; bk. 3) ISBN-13: 978-0-7642-0110-3 (pbk.) ISBN-10: 0-7642-0110-7 (pbk.) 1. Young women-Fiction. 2. French-Colorado-Fiction. 3. Frontier and pioneer life-Colorado-Fiction. 4. Mining camps-Fiction. 5. Birthfathers-Identification- Fiction. 6. Fathers and daughters-Fiction. I. Title.
PS3601.L3563R46 2007 813 .6-dc22
2007007116
DEDICATION
To Joe, with love Thank you for Paris .
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.
ISAIAH 55:8-9
Content
PROLOGUE
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
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
Cimeti re de Montmartre, Paris, France July 17, 1870
V ÉRONIQUE E VELINE G IRARD laid a single white rose on her mother s grave, and bent low to whisper into the afterlife. If somehow my words can reach you, Maman . . . Her hand trembled on the cool marble. Know that I cannot do as you have asked. Your request comes at too great-
An unaccustomed chill traced an icy finger up her spine. Sensing she was no longer alone, V ronique rose and slowly turned.
Cimeti re Montmartre s weather-darkened sepulchers rose and fell in varying heights along the familiar cobbled walkway. Rows of senescent, discolored tombs clustered and leaned along meandering paths. Canted summer sunlight, persistent in having its way, shimmered through the leaves overhead and cast muted shadows on the white and gray marble stones.
Movement at the corner of her eye drew her focus.
There, peeking from behind a centuries-old headstone, sat a cat whose coat shared the color of ashes in a hearth.
V ronique sighed, smiling. So I am not alone after all. You are the racaille skulking about.
The cat made no move to leave. It only stared at her, its tail flickering in the cadence of a mildly interested feline. Cats were common in Paris these days, and they were welcome. They helped to discourage the overrunning of rodents.
He is not the only racaille skulking about, mademoiselle .
V ronique jumped at the voice close behind her, instantly recognizing its deep timbre. Christophe Charvet . . . Secretly grateful for his company, she mustered a scolding look as she turned, knowing he would be disappointed if she didn t. Why do you still insist on sneaking up on me here? She huffed a breath. We are far from being children anymore, you and I.
Contrition shadowed his eyes, as did a glint of mischief. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Mademoiselle Girard, be most assured that it has been many years since I have looked upon you as a child. Playful formality laced his tone even as his expression took on a more intimate look-one V ronique remembered but considered long ago put behind them. With the slightest sign of encouragement from you, mademoiselle-
Christophe . . . She eyed him, anticipating what was coming and wishing to avoid it.
Gentle determination lined Christophe s face. With the slightest sign of encouragement I would, mademoiselle, for the final time, attempt to capture the heart of the woman before me as easily as I once won the heart of the young girl she once was.
She stared up at him, not completely surprised that he was broaching this subject again-especially now, after her mother s passing. What caught her off guard was how deeply she wished there were reason to encourage his hopes.
She d known Christophe since the age of five, when they d tromped naked together through the fountain of Lord Marchand s front courtyard. Remembering how severe the punishment for that offense had been for them both, she curbed the desire to smooth a hand over the bustle of her skirt. Those escapades had extended into their youth, when after hurrying through their duties, they had raced here to explore the endless hiding places amidst this silent city of sepulchers.
She d adored Christophe then. Of course it wasn t until later in life that he had noticed her in that way, but by then those feelings for him had long passed and showed no sign of being resurrected.
She repeated his name again-this time more gently. You know you are my dearest friend . . .
A dark brow shot up. Dearest friend . . . He grimaced. Words every man hopes to hear from a woman he adores.
His sarcasm tempted her to grin. But she was certain whatever rejection he felt would be short-lived. After all, he had said a woman, not the woman.
He gave an acknowledging tilt of his head. You can t blame a man for trying, V ronique-especially when such a prize is at stake. Resignation softened his smile. In light of this, I hereby renew my solemn vow made to you in our twenty-sixth year as we-
Twenty-fifth year. V ronique raised a single brow, remembering that particular afternoon five years ago when he d made the promise as they strolled the grassy expanse of the Champs-Elys es.
Pardon, ma ch rie . Our twenty-fifth year. His eyes narrowed briefly, a familiar gleam lighting his dark pupils. I stand corrected, and will henceforth extinguish the fleeting hope that my dearest friend -wit punctuated the words- will finally succumb to my charm and consider altering her affections.
With a serious sideways glance, she attempted to match his humor. You will not regret your restraint, Christophe, for you would not be pleased with me. On that I give you my vow. She shrugged and gave herself a dismissive gesture, secretly hoping her mother could somehow hear their exchange. Maman had always enjoyed their bantering, and had loved Christophe dearly. I am like wine left too long in the cellar. I fear I have lost my sweetness and grown bitter with time s fermenting.
He tugged playfully at her hand, and a familiar quirk lifted his brow. Ah, but I have learned something in my thirty years that you apparently have not, Mademoiselle Girard. His smile turned conspiratorial.
And what would that be, Monsieur Charvet?
Truth tempered the humor in his eyes. That the finest French Bordeaux, full-bodied and rich in bouquet, does not yield from the youngest vintage, ma ch rie , but from the more mature.
Unable to think of a witty reply, V ronique chose silence instead. Christophe s handsome looks and gentle strength had long drawn the attention of females. Why he still h