HARVEST HOUSE PUBLISHERS
EUGENE, OREGON
Verses marked NIV are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright©1973, 1978, 1984 by the International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
Verses marked NASB are taken from the New American Standard Bible®, © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. (www.Lockman.org)
Verses marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ©1996, 2004. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, IL 60189 USA. All rights reserved.
Verses marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright ©1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Cover by Koechel Peterson & Associates, Inc., Minneapolis, Minnesota
Cover photos © wikimedia; Giorgio Gruizza, Andres Rodriguez / Fotolia; Photos.com / Greg Page
BJ Hoff: Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Agency, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, CA 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.biz.
Previously published as the American Anthem trilogy: Prelude, Cadence, and Jubilee.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
AMERICAN ANTHEM
Copyright © 2002/2003/2004 by BJ Hoff
Published by Harvest House Publishers
Eugene, Oregon 97402
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
American anthem / B.J. Hoff.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-7369-2646-1 (pbk.)
1. Italian Americans—Fiction. 2. Immigrants—Fiction. 3. Singers—Fiction. 4. Blind musicians—Fiction. 5. Opera—Fiction. 6. New York (N.Y.)—Fiction. I. Hoff, B. J., 1940- Prelude. II. Hoff, B. J., 1940- Cadence. III. Hoff, B. J., 1940- Julbilee. IV. Title.
PS3558.034395A82 2009
813'.54—dc22
2008040734
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, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
My warmest thanks and appreciation to Harvest House Publishers for their interest in publishing this new, single-volume work of the three novels that made up the original series (The American Anthem). And as always, my deepest gratitude for their prayerful and ongoing support and encouragement.
BJ HOFF
Contents
American Anthem Characters
Book One: Prelude
Prologue: Catch the Distant Music
1. Susanna: Beginnings and Endings
2. Harbor of Hope
3. Up the Hudson
4. Bantry Hill
5. Welcome Home, Dr. Carmichael
6. Michael Emmanuel
7. A Soul Alone
8. Questions
9. After the Fire
10. Surprises, Small and Not So Small
11. Conn MacGovern and the Busker Girl
12. Vangie
13. The Promise of His Presence
14. The Watch
15. The Parting
16. A Man and His Music
17. Physicians in the City
18. Revival in Brooklyn
19. Dark Remembrance
20. A Long Night
21. Rain on the River
22. Faith in the Face of Fear
23. Just One Touch
24. Renny Magee’s Wonderful Secret
25. A Matter of Trust
26. The Doctors Are In
27. Among Friends
28. Lingering Shadows
29. An Unveiled Truth
30. In the Eye of the Storm
31. A Story Told
32. At the Crossroads
Epilogue: A Time for Singing
Book Two: Cadence
Prologue: The Troubadour’s Question
1. A Stirring in the Heart
2. A Love Bruised by Pain
3. Toward Home
4. Something of Genius, Something of God
5. Black Beast of Beauty
6. Meeting Maylee
7. Afternoon Encounter
8. A Dream and a Prayer
9. When Hope and Fear Collide
10. Night Music
11. A Risk Too Precious
12. An Unlikely Guardian Angel
13. Who Sees the Heart
14. Rescue the Perishing
15. To Step Aside is Human
16. A Sorrow Shared
17. Surprises in the Morning
18. To Go Against the Giant
19. Light and Shadow
20. Susanna’s Surprise
21. A Ride in the Park
22. No More Secrets
23. When the Thunderbolt Strikes
24. Questions of the Heart
25. A Punishing Silence
26. Acts of Forgiveness
27. A Step Toward Trust
28. Through the Eyes of a Child
29. A Necessary Flaw
30. Between Greatness and Grace
31. A New Song
Epilogue: The Gift, the Giver, and the Glory
Book Three: Jubilee
Prologue: To Hold a Promise
1. Reunion
2. A Man Without Remorse
3. An Exciting Morning at Bantry Hill
4. An Uneven Measure
5. Making Maylee Smile
6. A Deceptive Contentment
7. At the Edge of the Storm
8. The Fading Cry
9. Vale of Shadows
10. Where Secrets Dwell
11. The Journals
12. Secrets of a Good Man
13. Old Knife, New Pain
14. Dinner for Two
15. With the World Shut Out
16. With Concern for the Good
17. A Time to Fight
18. Decisions for Renny
19. A Mother’s Love
20. An Unexpected Summons
21. A Healing Truth
22. A Job for Nell Grace
23. Choices
24. An Uneasy Search
25. Dread Remembrance
26. Undone by a Fallen Woman
27. The Many Faces of Strength
28. Keeping the Peace
29. Letters
30. When God Happens
31. Beyond These Walls
32. Homecoming
Epilogue: Happy Birthday, America!
Discussion Questions
About the Author
About the Publisher
AMERICAN ANTHEM CHARACTERS
MICHAEL EMMANUEL
Blind conductor-composer. Formerly an internationally acclaimed tenor.
SUSANNA FALLON
Sister of Michael Emmanuel’s deceased wife. Michael’s fiancée.
CATERINA EMMANUEL
Michael Emmanuel’s daughter.
PAUL SANTI
Michael Emmanuel’s cousin, assistant, and concertmaster of the orchestra.
LIAM AND MOIRA DEMPSEY
Husband and wife. Caretaker and housekeeper at the estate of Michael Emmanuel.
ROSA NAVARO
Renowned opera diva. Friend and neighbor of Michael Emmanuel.
CONN AND VANGIE MACGOVERN
Husband and wife. Irish immigrants employed by Michael Emmanuel.
THE MACGOVERN CHILDREN
Aidan, Nell G
race, twins James (Seamus) and John (Sean), Emma, Baby William.
RENNY MAGEE
Orphaned street busker who emigrates from Ireland with the MacGoverns.
ANDREW CARMICHAEL
Physician from Scotland who devotes most of his medical practice to the impoverished of New York City.
BETHANY COLE
One of the first woman physicians in America. Andrew Carmichael’s associate and fiancée.
FRANK DONOVAN
Irish police sergeant and close friend to Andrew Carmichael.
MAYLEE
Abandoned child afflicted with premature aging disease.
MARY LAMBERT
Single mother of three children and recovering opium addict.
ROBERT WARBURTON
Prominent clergyman and lecturer. Andrew Carmichael’s nemesis.
EDWARD FITCH
Son-in-law of Natalie Guthrie. Friend of Andrew Carmichael.
NATALIE GUTHRIE
Elderly mother-in-law of Edward Fitch. Patient of Andrew Carmichael.
BY MENTION OR BRIEF APPEARANCE:
FANNY J. CROSBY
Hymn writer and poet.
D. L. MOODY
Evangelist.
IRA SANKEY
Singer, songwriter, and partner of D. L. Moody.
BOOK ONE
PRELUDE
ANTHEM
Give my heart a voice
to tell the world about my Savior—
Give my soul a song that will ring out across the years,
A song that sings your boundless love
in sunshine or in shadow,
A psalm of praise for all my days,
through happiness or tears.
Make my life a melody
in tune with all creation—
Help me live in harmony
with every living thing.
Let my whole existence
be an anthem of rejoicing,
A prelude to eternal life
with you, my Lord and King.
—BJ HOFF
Prologue
CATCH THE DISTANT MUSIC
Blessed day when pure devotions
Rise to God on wings of love;
When we catch the distant music
Of the angel choirs above.
FANNY CROSBY
New York Harbor, 1846
Michael Emmanuel was eight years old when first he heard the Music.
It was an overcast day in mid-September. He was standing at the railing of the ship that would soon be taking him and his family home from their visit to America. Any moment now, the Star Horizon would cast off, leaving New York and the United States behind, and Michael wanted to store up all the memories he possibly could.
His parents stood a short distance away, talking with an elderly Italian gentleman they had met in the harbor. Michael turned back to watch the crush of people on the docks. Everyone seemed to be weeping or praying or shouting, all at the same time. Some stood with tears streaming down their cheeks, arms outstretched and hands extended, as if pleading to come along with those on board. Farther up the docks, a small band was playing, while just across the deck a priest led a small group of nuns in prayer.
The odor of tobacco smoke and ladies’ lavender water mingled with the stench of floating garbage and the brackish smell of salt water. A hot, bitter taste filled Michael’s mouth. As he stood on deck beneath a sky heavy with darkening clouds, he felt none of the same excitement that had rippled through him upon their arrival six weeks ago. Instead, a hollow ache wrung his heart at the thought of leaving this busy, boisterous land, where almost everything seemed big and noisy and new.
He had taken to America right from the beginning. Just this morning, before leaving their hotel, he had declared to his parents that one day he would return to live here. He already had two homes, after all, so why not three?
For as long as he could remember, they had spent most of the year in Italy, his father’s land, staying in Ireland, his mother’s country, for brief stints during the summer months. Michael liked both places, although Italy was his favorite “home.” He liked the way the Tuscan sky glistened as the burning ball of the sun disappeared behind the mountains every evening. In Italy, there was always music playing and dogs barking in the streets and mothers leaning out of windows to call their children inside. In Ireland, everything—the towns, the people, the music—seemed overshadowed by a cloud. Even the wind seemed sad.
Suddenly, Michael realized that the ship had begun moving. They were putting out to sea, leaving America. As he watched, the harbor began to recede. Gradually, the people on the docks grew smaller, less distinct.
At that moment, something very strange occurred: there came to him the sound of music, a music unlike anything he had ever heard before. At first it was so quiet, so unexpected, that it might have been merely a sigh of the breeze or the lapping of the water beneath the ship. Or was the band in the harbor still playing?
Then, without warning, it began to hum and swell, growing louder, then louder still, until it seemed to leap across the water, heading directly toward him. Michael couldn’t see where it was coming from. At some point, the wind had risen, and now it swept the deck, whistling through the rigging, whipping through the ropes and sails, diving in and out among the passengers at the rail.
The Music was everywhere now, falling out of the sky and marching across the water, like a vast army on the move or a great and majestic orchestra rising up from the ocean floor. Even the wind itself seemed to be singing!
As the sound built and surged, Michael could almost imagine that the doors to eternity had opened to let a band of angels come streaming through, singing and making thunderous music on a thousand instruments. And yet this music wasn’t made of instruments or voices. It was neither—yet it was both. Just as it was both sweet and sad, brave and bold.
And beautiful. So beautiful.
It was everything Michael had ever imagined or felt or yearned for, but it was impossibly beyond his reach. It filled his ears, his head, his heart—filled him with such elation that he almost cried out in sheer delight.
One last mighty explosion of sound shook him from head to foot.
And then it was gone.
In a moment—even less, in a heartbeat—the Music died. And with it went the unutterable joy, leaving in its wake the most awful, sorrowful silence Michael had ever known.
At that instant, the sky really did open, not to release a chorus of angels, but instead to pour out a sudden, drenching rain. But Michael scarcely noticed. He was too intent on recapturing the Music that only seconds before had filled him to overflowing.
He turned and stumbled toward his parents, the rain pelting his face and stinging his skin. The other passengers also had begun to move in an effort to escape the downpour, and Michael found himself squeezed and pushed out of the way.
He was crying now, weeping as if he had lost his dearest treasure, and he could taste the salt from the spray of the ocean as it mingled with his tears. He shuddered, clutching his head with his hands as he tried to make his way through the crowd to his parents.
They saw him then and hurried to meet him, his father’s arms encircling him protectively. “What is this, mio figlio? What has happened? Are you hurt?”
His mother stooped down and removed Michael’s cap. She smoothed his hair and examined him as if searching for possible injuries.
The ship’s whistle blasted, sending a white-hot knife of pain shooting through Michael’s head. He cried aloud, tugging at his mother’s sleeve. “Did you hear it, Mama? Papa? Did you hear the Music?” But he could tell by the way they were both staring at him that they had heard nothing.
His mother searched his face, then turned to look up at Papa.
“What music, Michael?” asked his father. “What music are you talking about?”
With the rain driving into his eyes and mouth, he tried to explain, to tell his parents what he had heard. He sobbed and stammered in his fr
ustration. “I tried to catch it, don’t you see, to keep it! I didn’t want it to stop, not ever, but now it’s gone!”
But he couldn’t make them understand, and finally, exhausted, he let them lead him along the deck to their stateroom.
Much later, after his mother had brought him a light supper, Michael feigned sleep while his parents stood talking softly outside the door.
“What happened to him, Riccardo?” he heard his mama say. “What does it mean, this talk of ‘catching the music’?”
Michael rubbed his eyes, fighting the sleep crowding in on him.
“Who can say?” His father’s voice was very soft. “Perhaps God has given the boy a gift. A vision.”
“A vision? But he is only a child, Riccardo!”
His father said nothing for a moment. When he finally answered, he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Mama. “In God’s eyes, we are all children, are we not? And Michael—ah, Saraid, it seems to me that our son already soars closer to heaven than many grown men. Is it so unlikely that God would gift him in ways we cannot understand, allow him to hear something we cannot hear?”
“I don’t understand this, Riccardo.”
Mama sounded frightened, and Michael almost called out to her not to be afraid. The Music had been a wonderful thing, not something to fear. His pain had come from the glory of it, the inexpressible beauty and majesty of it.
And the loss of it.
“Music is the thing he loves best,” Papa went on. “If God has indeed allowed Michael to hear a special music—perhaps even a heavenly music—”
He broke off, but Michael’s mother prompted him. “What, Riccardo?”
“Then perhaps—” His voice faltered, then gained strength. “Perhaps our Michael has been chosen to be God’s trovatore.”
For the first time in hours, Michael felt the sadness lift and the ache in his head begin to drain away. His eyes were grainy from weeping and heavy with the need for sleep, but he heard his father’s words, words he resolved to always remember:
“Perhaps our Michael has been chosen to be God’s trovatore.”
He felt as if he were floating, lulled into a distant world by the rhythmic rocking of the ship. His parents went on talking, their voices growing faint and far away. But the echo of that one truth continued to ring in his head and in his heart as he drifted off to sleep.