Jackson promises his dying friend that he'll take care of his sister, Leah. Though he's never met her, he already adores the Leah he imagines from their grandmother's letters. While fulfilling that promise, he finds that his adoration was merely kindling. Perhaps they aren’t home. A little surge of hope shot through him. He turned away. The door opened behind him. His hopes dashed, he turned around and his breath caught in his throat. Stephen had been a handsome man. That knowledge should have provided him with forewarning. “Are you lost?” She asked. The voice of an angel. Jackson stared into the very same blue eyes of his friend. Black hair framed the most beautiful face he had ever seen. “Do I know you?” She asked, a small smile playing about her lips. Luscious pink lips. Jackson wavered. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to turn and walk away. “Leah,” he murmured. The smile faded from her lips and she glanced behind him. Saw the servant hovering behind him now. Stood her ground. “How do you know my name?” She asked, her eyes full of suspicion now. “I apologize,” Jackson said. “I don’t mean to frighten you.” “Who is it?” A woman called from the back of the house. “It’s alright, Grandma. Just someone looking for directions.” Leah stepped over the threshold and pulled the door behind her. “Who are you?” She asked. “You seem to have the advantage.” “I apologize. My name is Jackson Holcomb.” “Well, Private Jackson Holcomb, how may I assist you?”
Jackson shifted and her eyes lit on the haversack over his right shoulder. Stephen’s haversack. Her gaze lifted to his. Recognition merged with knowledge. Her expression questioned. There was nothing he could say. He shook his head slightly. She swayed. Then the most beautiful angel fainted into his arms. Before he knew what had happened, his arms were full of her. He cradled her close to him, putting his arms beneath her knees and picking her up. She was light as a feather. Nudging the door open, he carried her inside.