Prologue
Philadelphia, PA
It is important to remember that your gifts will be used to change the lives of those who cannot do so for themselves.
Their numbers are high, especially since the war has left a great many women widowed and children orphaned.
Remember, no matter your donation, it will be a blessing,” the speaker declared to thunderous applause.
Judith Ashton Stanford was among those in the approving audience. She clapped and rose to her feet. The long, hot afternoon of lectures had come to an end, and she was frankly rather anxious to return home.
“I was quite impressed with the speakers,” the bearded man standing next to her said, as if they’d been in previous conversation. He was a handsome man with a hint of mischief in his smile. His dark eyes searched her face as if for answers to some unspoken question. “I’m Dr. Roman Turner.”
“Judith Stanford.” She extended her gloved hand. “I agree, the speakers were wonderful. I’ve long desired to help the poor in whatever ways possible.”
Her passion for widows and orphans had come about partly due to her own situation.
She and her husband, Alden Stanford, had married June third in 1862, and the next day Judith had watched and waved with the other wives and daughters as their men marched off to fight for the North.
She had never seen him again. He perished in the war during the Battle of Gettysburg in July 1863.
At twenty-two, Judith had been na?ve about the risks. Now twenty-six, she felt as though she’d gained far more knowledge than she ever wanted. Losing her husband had only been the start—her mother and father had died the very next year. Her entire life had been altered.
Had it not been for her charity work and taking over her father’s steamboat service, Judith might have despaired. Other women certainly had. Every day she learned of widows who had given up, sinking deeper into their loneliness and seemingly impossible circumstances.
“There’s so much to be done. In my own town, we are dealing with a growing number of widows and orphans,” Dr. Turner said.
“We have so many due to the war that it has become the focus of many charities.”
“I can well imagine. I served on the battlefield as a surgeon and saw many a good man breath his last.”
Judith had seen so many families devastated by the loss of their men.
Sorrow alone was enough to cause hopelessness but add poverty to this and they were helpless to fight back.
Rarely did a woman have any means of supporting herself.
Losing their men to fight left an immediate financial void that was difficult, if not impossible, to overcome.
Families did what they could to watch out for one another, and good men sent home money from their pay.
But as the fighting dragged on and battlefront postal services became less available, the needs of those women and their children mounted.
Judith and her mother had gotten involved in helping as a means of healing from their own personal losses.
There were multiple agencies striving to create assistance for the widows and orphans of war.
Judith and her mother had also seen the need to help those whose husbands and fathers were still living, still fighting.
They had created a charity to provide food and clothes for these families.
Even after her mother died, Judith continued the good work, urging local churches to care for their own as a service unto God.
“I find that helping those less fortunate has done much to bless me.” Judith’s necklace seemed to tighten as the heat grew more unbearable.
“Women are at a great disadvantage to earn their own living, even more so while taking care of a family. If we do not show compassion on them, I feel they will never be able to make their way to thriving, rather than merely surviving.”
“You speak quite eloquently. We have some wonderful folks in Minneapolis but could certainly use someone with your beauty and grace to stir their hearts to action.”
“We need women like Judith to stir the hearts of people everywhere, Dr. Turner.” This came from an older woman Judith had known for many years.
Harriet Silverman was a formidable fund raiser with all sorts of creative ideas for bettering the plight of the poor.
“I am doing what I can to convince her to take on larger, more important roles in our various charities. She has impressed me with her attention to detail.”
“You are too, kind.” Judith smiled at the older woman. Mrs. Silverman had been working quite feverishly to entice her to join a committee overseeing housing for widows with children.
“Mrs. Silverman, I was encouraged by your speech. Thank you for inviting me. There is a definite need to better the living conditions of the poor. Getting the animals off the streets alone will greatly improve health conditions amongst the people,” Dr. Turner said.
“I’ve said as much for years, Dr. Turner. And I will continue to advocate cleanliness. However, it is difficult to choose soap over soup when your child is hungry.”
It was true. Hunger was a nagging need.
The older woman tapped Judith on the arm. “If you’ll excuse me.” Mrs. Silverman was distracted by a couple of wealthy looking men and left Judith and Roman to continue their conversation.
“You mentioned Minneapolis. Is that where you’re from?” Judith asked, wishing the temperatures would abate.
“For the last few years, yes. Prior to that, my family was in Maryland.”
“And the war sent you west?” She drew her fan and began to use it.
“Not at all. My father inherited property in Minnesota. I remained in Baltimore to finish my education and training, but before I could return to my family, the war broke out and doctors were very much needed in the army.”
“I can well imagine. The numbers of wounded must have been difficult to deal with. My own husband was lost at Gettysburg.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His expression changed to one of concern. “I thought I heard it mentioned that you had lost your parents recently.”
She continued to wave the fan. “Two years ago. My father owned a steamboat service on the river, transporting goods and people. They were on a trip, and the boiler blew up. Their cabin was just above, and they were killed instantly.”
“Was it sabotage?”
“No. At least, those who investigated said there were no indications of such. My father had expressed concerns about the boiler days before the accident. He thought he’d dealt with the problem, but obviously he was mistaken.
” She reattached the fan’s cord to a button on her waistband.
The lacy piece hadn’t helped cool her at all, and in fact, she thought it might be possible that waving it about had only served to make her hotter.
“Your losses have been great. My father also passed away during the war.”
“In battle?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It’s a long story, but he died in Minnesota.” Dr. Turner glanced past her into the crowd behind them. “It was one of those senseless and unnecessary things.”
“I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t help but notice something about his expression that suggested his grief was still strong, but she didn’t feel the situation warranted the intimacy of her questioning him.
“I realize it’s quite forward of me, but I wonder if you might consider having dinner with me tonight? Mrs. Silverman has known me for years and can vouch for my character.”
The idea of attending supper with the dashing stranger enticed Judith. In normal circumstances, she would probably not even consider it. However, before she could answer, Mrs. Silverman put an end to any romantic notions.
“Judith! Judith!” Mrs. Silverman called.
Judith glanced up and noticed the woman motioning her to come. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’m needed elsewhere. It was a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Turner.”
“For me as well, and if you come to Minneapolis, please be certain to look me up.”
She nodded and gave him a smile. “I’d like that.”
Roman watched the young woman move through the throng of people.
She was as graceful as a swan swimming among the reeds.
He found himself mesmerized for a long while.
She was beautiful, there was certainly no doubt about that.
Her voluminous brown hair had been carefully pinned into place, held by ebony lacquered combs.
Her gown, although trimmed in black, was not that of mourning.
The dark green suited her complexion, and the lightweight material was sensible for an extremely warm day.
But there was something more to her—something that attracted him in a way he’d not felt before. Judith Stanford had a heart for the very things he did. She cared about those around her who were suffering and in need, and she put others first.
His mother and sister were always after him to find a wife and settle down, but until this moment, he’d never met a woman with whom he could imagine himself married.
Judith Stanford, however, was easily a match for the bride he had imagined.
She was soft-spoken, yet firm in her opinions and confident in doing the right thing.
Just the fact that she was here spending her free time listening to lectures on helping the destitute spoke volumes about her character.
But even as he thought these things, Roman chided himself. He didn’t really know anything about Judith Stanford. Certainly not enough to think favorably toward a lifetime together. No doubt it was just the heat.
Sweat trickled down the side of his neck.
The temperatures were almost unbearable, and Roman felt he’d had more than enough of crowds and lectures.
He made his way toward the back of the room where the exit doors would lead him outside into the hopefully night air.
As he drew near to where Judith stood listening to Mrs. Silverman, he sensed there might be a problem.
Judith seemed strangely silent, almost distracted.
As he came abreast of her and the others, Judith turned. The look on her face was one he’d seen on the battlefield just before men lost consciousness. Reaching out, he caught her just as she fainted.
“Oh dear! Oh my!” Mrs. Silverman waved her gloved hands in exclamation. “What has happened!”
“I believe the heat has overcome the poor woman,” one of the men declared.
Roman lifted Judith into his arms. “Let’s get her outside. The open air will be better. Mrs. Silverman, please find us a way through the crowd.
Outside the air was cooler, but heavy with humidity. Roman stood holding Judith in his arms and wondering what he should do next.
“I believe there is a marble bench to the side, just over there.” Mrs. Silverman pointed.
Roman caught sight of the bench and nodded.
He crossed the portico and wondered whether to seat Judith on the bench or continue holding her.
She was light enough he could have held her forever, or so he told himself, but propriety was important.
He gently lowered her to bench and, while still holding on to her, grabbed the fan attached to her waistband.
He didn’t see how it was fastened and gave a hard yank.
The button holding it danced across the stone floor.
Roman opened the fan while balancing Judith and began to use it quite vigorously. “If someone could get her a glass of water, that would help,” he said, not even bothering to look up.
She started to rally as he continued to fan her face. When she opened her eyes and met his gaze, she smiled. For a moment, Roman was certain she had no idea of where she was. He smiled back.
Then at once, his nearness seemed to alarm her. She jerked and sat up straight, pulling herself out of Roman’s arms with surprising strength.
“Oh goodness. What happened?”
“You fainted, my dear,” Mrs. Silverman announced. “The heat was positively abominable. Thank God for Dr. Turner. He just happened to be passing by and caught you as you fell.”
Judith looked into Roman’s eyes. For a moment, he lost the ability to reason. He had never met a woman who so completely captured his thoughts. He’d long prayed for a wife, but could it really be this easy? Could she be the one?
“Thank you for helping me, Dr. Turner.” She reached over and took the fan.
“I’m afraid I pulled rather hard and send a button flying across the way.” He motioned with his head but refused to look away from the glance that kept him spellbound.
She smiled. “It’s of no concern, given the service you rendered me.” She fanned herself a few times. “It’s usually not so hot in the evening, but the room seemed quite confining.”
“Yes, there were simply too many people in one small space,” Mrs. Silverman agreed. “I will call for my carriage and see you safely home.”
Roman thought to offer that himself but knew it would be inappropriate. However, accompanying them would be completely fitting.
“I could go with you,” he offered.
“Nonsense. I have my driver and two footmen. We’ll be just fine, Dr. Turner. Please return to the fund raiser. I know it was important for you to meet with several of our larger donors.”
The wonder of the moment ended with that. He straightened and stood. “I hope you’ll be feeling better soon, Mrs. Stanford.”
“Again, thank you for your help.” She drew in a deep breath. “I am much revived and quite myself again.”
Roman smiled and gave a bow. He certainly wasn’t exactly himself. The encounter had left him more than a little shaken. Something important had happened, but exactly what, he couldn’t say.