Within the Candle's Glow
Read Within the Candle's Glow Online
Authors: Karen Campbell Prough
by
Karen Campbell Prough
WITHIN THE CANDLE’S GLOW BY KAREN CAMPBELL PROUGH
Published by Firefly Southern Fiction
An Imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas
2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC, 27614
ISBN: 978-1-938499-64-7
Copyright © 2015 by Karen Campbell Prough
Cover design by Elaina Lee,
www.forthemusedesign.com
Interior design by Karthick Srinivasan
Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at:
www.lighthousepublishingofthecarolinas.com
For more information on this book and the author visit:
All rights reserved. Non-commercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line, “
Within the Candle’s Glow
by Karen Campbell Prough published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”
Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trade marks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.
Scripture quotations are taken from the HOLY BIBLE NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION r. NIVr Copyright c 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas: Eva Marie Everson, Jessica R. Everson, Carolyn Boyles, Shonda Savage, and Jennifer Leo.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Campbell Prough, Karen.
Within the Candle’s Glow / Karen Campbell Prough 1st ed.
Praise for W
ITHIN THE
C
ANDLE’S
G
LOW
A gifted storyteller, author Karen Campbell Prough draws you into the simple beauty yet complex pain of Ella Dessa’s world—a landscape of rich characters, smooth prose, and memorable moments that woo you with the promise of romance.
~Elaine Marie Cooper
Author of
Saratoga Letters
and
Fields of the Fatherless
Within The Candle’s Glow
is a well-written story with fascinating characters and a setting so real you can see it. A real page turner that’s hard to put down.
~Barbara Warren
Author of
Deception, Gathering Storm
, and
Dangerous Inheritance
I
cannot express how grateful I am for the special people in my life—the ones who have urged me to keep writing or have asked if there is a second book about Ella Dessa. What began as one book,
The Girl Called Ella Dessa
, now has a companion book.
Within the Candle’s Glow
can now be presented as the gift of romance in Ella Dessa’s life.
First and forever, it is God’s gift of the written word, which I must be thankful for, each and every day. God gave humans many ways to express themselves. Creating stories that teach or entertain is just one way, and I love writing.
I am thankful for a husband who supports my desire and urge to write. Ed stands by me in all my attempts to create a finished product—a story from the past. He goes the extra mile and recently bought me a small folding cart to transport my box of books into a book store.
My gratitude to Eva Marie Everson and Firefly Southern Fiction, an imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, is immeasurable. Without her wonderful abilities and initial encouragement, I could not have fulfilled my dream of seeing my books in print.
And to the readers, who pass the word along about my book, I cannot thank you enough. You seem to take such joy in telling others about it. It just amazes me! Thank you.
To the readers who keep asking me when the next book is being released: thank you for your excitement and support during the past year. It has meant so much to me.
Chapter 1
S
aturday, June 13, 1840
The impact robbed her of breath as the icy mountain stream swallowed her limp body. The swift running water seized her, twirled her in a semi-circle, and sucked her deeper. A burning pain on the left side of her neck and shoulder numbed her senses. Rough fingers gripped her upper arms. The hands snatched her air-starved body free of the watery tomb.
Her lips parted. Ella Dessa Huskey clawed at the heavy quilt tangled about her body, her lungs straining to suck in air. The darkness enhanced the nightmare’s grip. She caught her breath and cried out.
A hand patted her back.
“
Shh
, Ella Dessa! Wake up!”
Carrie Clanders’s concerned whispers rippled through Ella’s mind and coaxed her away from the suffocating fear—the same way a soft current beckons to a fallen leaf and swirls it into calmer waters.
“I’m awake.”
As her heartbeat slowed, she fingered the bumpy scars marring her left shoulder, lower neck, and collarbone. The disfigurement ended between her breasts.
Carrie sighed. “Was it the dream?”
“Yes. Why am I dreamin’ of the attack? It’s been years since it happened! I was ten.”
The younger girl tugged at Ella’s arm. “Lay down. I’ll hold you.”
#
“Ella Dessa, you best step out of the Georgia sunlight or fetch a bonnet.” A hand-painted board, advertising “Beckler’s General Store,” hung on the rear wall. It bounced as Jim McKnapp strode past with his purchase.
“I dislike bonnets.”
“I know, but you don’t want to get sunburned before Saturday’s picnic.” Jim stepped from the loading platform into the bed of a farm wagon.
“I won’t burn.” She stood on the dusty ground beside his team of horses and threaded her fingers through the dark sweaty mane of the nearest one. “The sun feels good. I’m tired of bein’ inside.” She didn’t mind lingering in the dazzling sunlight if it meant she’d be close to Jim.
“Your freckles will show up for the picnic.” Winking, he smiled in her direction and placed the sack on top of two larger bundles stashed between wooden barrels.
“Not goin’ to the picnic.” She wrinkled her nose. “Neither are my freckles.” She usually hated to have her freckles mentioned, but she found it hard to show any resentment at his comment. Jim’s wink erased any offense.
“Why will you miss the picnic?” He brushed dust off his hands.
“I think Mr. Beckler will keep the store open.”
“Naw.” His deep gray eyes widened. “Walter
wouldn’t
.”
“He might.”
Ask me to go with you.
“He’ll close the store. Everyone in Beckler’s Cove plans to be at the picnic. I heard the talk circulating this curved hollow.” He stretched, lifting his fists high above his head. “
Whew
. It’s too hot for June.” He dropped his arms with a weary sigh. His muslin shirt, damp with sweat, clung to his chest.
“Sure is.” She tried not to stare and switched her attention back to the horse. “Good thing there’s plenty of trees near the church—for shade and to prevent freckles.”
He chuckled. “But if we don’t get some rain, all the picnickers might jump in the stream to cool off.”
“If there’s water still flowin’ by then.” She fiddled with the leather harness, wishing to stall his departure. “I s’pose Samuel will be there?”
She raised her eyes and met his intent look.
“At the picnic?” He stepped from the end of the wagon to the shaded platform and frowned. “My brother wouldn’t miss it.”
“Because there’ll be food?” She watched him lift another sack.
A hint of a smile showed under his dark mustache. “You know my younger brother, always appearing where there’s food—especially pies. He’ll go the whole hog.”
“That’s the truth.”
“He takes after Papa and might outgrow me. He’s got wide shoulders.” He stepped back into the wagon. It rocked under his weight, and the horses turned their heads to investigate the movement. “He’s a big boy.”
“Samuel’s not a boy.”
“No, he isn’t. He’ll soon be a man.”
I’m no longer a little girl. Cain’t you see that?
His eyes reflected the granite boulders tucked into the upward thrust of the low mountain behind the store. There was a hint of russet brown in their clear depths. Dark strands of hair curled under the edges of his felt hat.
“You speak as if it troubles you—him growin’ up.” She shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun.
Jim shrugged. “That don’t bother me.” He crammed the sack in place. “Maybe I still see him as my younger brother.”
“He’ll always be
younger
.”
“
Hmm
, you’re right.” He grinned. A faint dimple showed in his right cheek. “Your cheeks are pink splotches. Step into the shade before I’m blamed for your sunburn.”