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Grace River Trilogy E-Book

Victor O. Katchi

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Herausgeber: Victor Onyebuchi Katchi
Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
Sprache: Englisch

Beschreibung

Three stories. One river. A journey of love, loss, and redemption.
Welcome to Grace River, a small town where every heart has a secret and every choice leaves ripples.
In this trilogy, you’ll follow unforgettable characters as they wrestle with faith, forgiveness, and the courage to begin again:

Book One: Coming Home to Grace River – A return that awakens buried memories and the chance for healing.
Book Two: Where the Ashes Bloom – Out of pain, beauty struggles to rise, testing the limits of love.
Book Three: The Light Was Always Coming – A final reckoning with the past, and the discovery of a grace that never left.

Tender, heartfelt, and steeped in hope, Grace River Trilogy is for readers who long for stories of redemption and the quiet miracle of starting over.
Step into Grace River. You may find your own heart coming home too.

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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

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Leseprobe

Coming Home to Grace River 1:A Wholesome, Faith-FilledSmall-TownSecond-ChanceRomance

By Victor O. Katchi

Copyright

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 prior written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations in reviews or articles.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

Published by Victor Onyebuchi Katchi

ISBN:

Cover design by

Dedication

This book is dedicated to God Almighty.For everyone who’s ever found their way back home — and discovered it was worth the journey.

Prologue

The river had always been there.

Long before Amara left Grace River, before the bitter goodbye and the years of silence, before she traded slow mornings for city shifts that swallowed the day — the river had wound its way through the heart of town, steady and sure.

She remembered sitting on its bank as a teenager, knees tucked to her chest, listening to Daniel talk about dreams that seemed too big for their little town. Back then, she’d thought the river was something you could escape, like the place itself.

But rivers have a way of finding their course. And sometimes, they carry you back to where you began.

Introduction

They say you can’t go home again. Amara Okafor believed that — right up until the call came from Grace River.

Her mother’s voice had been warm but tired. “I’ll be fine,” she’d said, “but the doctor says I shouldn’t be alone for a while.”

It had been ten years since Amara walked away from this town — and from Daniel. Ten years of building a career in the city, learning to keep moving so the past couldn’t catch up. But now, the past wasn’t chasing her. It was waiting.

She told herself she was only coming for the summer. Just long enough to help her mother recover, to keep her head down, to leave again before the old wounds could reopen.

What she didn’t expect was to hear Daniel’s name within the first twenty- four hours. Or to find the river looking exactly the same. Or to feel something stir — something she’d sworn she’d buried — before she’d even unpacked her bag.

Chapter1:TheReluctantHomecoming

Amara Okafor gripped the steering wheel as the faded Welcome to Grace River sign appeared through the morning haze. The paint was peeling, the lettering half-sunbleached — much like her memories of the town she’d once called home. She had promised herself she would never see that sign again.

The road narrowed into a stretch she knew by heart, flanked by jacaranda trees whose blossoms painted the ground in purple confetti. The sight should have been comforting. Instead, it pressed on her chest like the weight of an unwelcome memory.

Her phone, balanced precariously in the cup holder, buzzed with a message from her mother: Almost home? Soup is on the stove.

A wave of tenderness broke through her fatigue. Mama’s surgery had gone well, but the woman needed rest — not the worry of a daughter who was two hours later than planned.

After three years of twelve-hour shifts at St. Matthew’s Hospital, Amara was used to being late. Late to dinners. Late to birthdays. Late to her own life. Burnout had been whispering at her edges for months, but she hadn’t listened until her supervisor told her she looked like she’d “run out of road.”

Well, here she was. Out of road. Back in Grace River.

She turned down Riverside Lane, the tires crunching over familiar gravel. A few houses had fresh coats of paint; others bore the same weathered siding she remembered. She slowed as she passed Mrs. Ajayi’s porch, where the older woman was already out with her morning tea.

The woman’s face lit up in recognition. “Amara? Eh-heh! Is that you?” Amara rolled down her window, managing a smile. “Morning, ma.”

Mrs. Ajayi leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’ve missed a lot. Even Daniel’s taken up the Lord’s work now — youth pastor, imagine that!” Amara’s grip on the steering wheel tightened before she could think. Daniel.

The name landed like a pebble dropped into still water — small, but enough to ripple the surface of her composure.

She forced a polite nod. “I’ll come by and catch up soon.” The older woman beamed. “We’ll be expecting you.”

As Amara pulled into her mother’s driveway, she caught herself breathing shallow, as if the mention of Daniel Adeyemi could still unsettle her after all these years. She had returned to Grace River for one reason: to help Mama heal. That was it.

The rest — the whispers, the memories, the man whose name still stirred something she didn’t care to name — would have to stay in the past.

She killed the engine, stepped out into the soft summer air, and told herself this was temporary.

Only for the summer.

Only until Mama was well.

And then she would be gone again.

Chapter2:ATown ThatRemembers

Amara hadn’t even unpacked before her mother insisted they take a slow stroll to the corner shop.

“It’s good for me to walk,” Mama said, leaning lightly on her cane. “And it’s good for people to see you. They’ve been asking after you.”

Amara doubted that “asking after you” meant anything good. In Grace River, people’s questions often carried their own answers — and their own embellishments.

The air was warm with the smell of frying akara from the roadside stall. Mrs. Okeke called out from behind her counter, “Ah, our nurse returns! Welcome home, my dear.”

Amara smiled, adjusting her pace to match her mother’s. “Good to see you, ma.”

As they moved along the main street, heads turned. Some greetings were warm, others politely curious. The tailor across the way paused mid-stitch to wave. Mr. Adebayo, who used to fix her school shoes, leaned out of his shop door and gave her a long, appraising look.

At the grocery, she caught snippets of voices just a little too loud to be accidental.

“…left in such a hurry back then…” “…never told anyone the real reason…” “…you know she and Daniel—”

Amara’s cheeks heated. She pretended to study the rows of yam flour, willing her ears not to betray her.

Her mother, bless her, either didn’t notice or pretended not to. She was busy exchanging news with the shop owner about the latest church fundraiser.

It was the same Grace River she had left a decade ago — a place where the streets felt like home and the walls felt like paper. Where you could walk to the end of the block and find three people who thought they knew your business better than you did.

As they stepped back out into the sunlight, Amara caught sight of a hand- painted sign tacked to the church bulletin board:

YOUTH NIGHT – THIS FRIDAY – Guest Devotional by Pastor Daniel Adeyemi

Her stomach tightened.

She told herself she wasn’t going. She didn’t need to. She was only here for the summer. And the past was best left where it belonged.

Still, as they made their way home, she couldn’t shake the sensation that every glance, every whispered word, was pushing her toward a confrontation she wasn’t ready to face.

Chapter3:TheFirstGlimpse

Daniel Adeyemi had stopped at the grocery store for two things: a bag of rice for the youth group dinner and batteries for the microphone that had been cutting out mid-sermon.

He had not planned on seeing Amara Okafor.

He was halfway down the dry goods aisle when a flash of familiar movement caught his attention — the tilt of her head, the way she pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He froze, fingers curling around the shopping basket handle.

It was her.

Older, yes. A little more tired around the eyes. But still Amara.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Ten years had passed since she’d left Grace River — and him — without warning. He’d told himself that if he ever saw her again, he’d be over it. He’d forgiven her. Forgiveness was part of his calling now.

But forgiveness, he was realizing, didn’t erase memory.

She turned, scanning the shelves, and her eyes met his. A flicker of recognition. Then the smallest hesitation before she offered a polite smile.

“Daniel,” she said, her voice steady.

“Amara.” His own sounded neutral, though his pulse felt anything but.

“How have you been?” she asked, like they were old classmates meeting by chance, not two people with a history that had once rewritten their futures.

“I’ve been well. Busy with church work.” He paused, debating whether to mention the youth ministry. He decided not to — the town had probably told her already. “And you?”

“Working in the city. Nursing.” She shifted her weight, glanced toward the front of the store where her mother was chatting with Mrs. Okeke. “I’m just here to help Mama for the summer.”

The words carried an unspoken addendum: And then I’ll be gone.

“That’s… good,” he said finally, because anything more would open a door he wasn’t ready to walk through in the middle of the rice aisle.

An awkward silence stretched between them. She gave a small nod, like she was excusing herself from a conversation neither of them had truly begun.

“Good to see you, Daniel.”

“And you,” he replied, the words automatic.

He watched her walk toward the counter, her presence stirring memories he thought he’d put to rest — and questions he’d buried even deeper.

Forgiveness was one thing. Forgetting, it seemed, was another matter entirely.

Chapter4:TheClinicCrisis

The church’s conference room still smelled faintly of floor polish and instant coffee when Daniel walked in. Elder Nnamdi was already at the head of the table, flipping through a stack of papers. Two other elders sat with him, their expressions somewhere between frustration and fatigue.

“Pastor Adeyemi,” Elder Nnamdi greeted, motioning for him to sit. “We have some difficult news.”

Daniel pulled out a chair. “What’s happened?”

“It’s the Grace River Free Clinic,” Elder Musa said, his voice low. “Our main grant from the regional health board… it’s been cut. Effective immediately.”

Daniel blinked. “Cut? But the health fair—”

“Cancelled,” Nnamdi said, his tone heavy. “Without funding, we can’t cover the cost of medical supplies, staff, or the event permits. The clinic will operate at bare minimum, but the outreach we’ve been planning for months?

Gone.”

The words hit harder than Daniel expected. The clinic wasn’t just a building; it was a lifeline. It treated people who had nowhere else to go — single parents, farmers with no insurance, the elderly who couldn’t afford the trip to the city hospital.

“There has to be another option,” Daniel said. “We can’t just… let it go. ”

Elder Musa sighed. “Unless someone steps in to organize and fundraise, the fair is dead. And frankly, our hands are already full with the youth program expansion and the roof repairs.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. The clinic’s outreach had always been a bridge between the church and the wider community. Losing it now felt like closing a door God had opened.

“What if…” He hesitated. “What if I take point on this? We could rally volunteers, get local sponsors—”

“It would take someone with medical knowledge as well,” Elder Nnamdi said. “We can’t run screenings or health education without proper credentials.”

Daniel thought for a moment, then the name surfaced unbidden. Amara.

She was a trained nurse. She was here — at least for the summer. And despite everything between them, he knew she cared about helping people.

He kept his voice even. “I might know someone who could help.”

Nnamdi’s eyebrows lifted. “Then pray about it, Daniel. But pray quickly. If we don’t act within a week, the fair’s slot in the community calendar will be gone.”

Daniel nodded, but his mind was already racing ahead — not with prayers, but with the image of Amara in the grocery store, and the knowledge that asking her to work with him would open far more than just the clinic’s doors.

Chapter5:Mother’sPersuasion

Amara was slicing vegetables for dinner when her mother’s voice floated in from the living room.

“Amara, come and sit a moment.”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and stepped into the room. Mama sat in her favorite armchair, a light blanket over her lap, the evening sun casting soft light through the curtains.

“You’ve heard about the clinic?” Mama asked without preamble.

Amara shrugged. “The one by the old market? I think so. They used to run those summer health fairs.”

“They still do,” Mama said, “or rather, they did. But I heard from Sister Chinyere today — funding has been cut. They may have to cancel.”

Amara perched on the edge of the sofa. “That’s unfortunate, but… what can we do?”

Her mother gave her a look that was half innocent, half knowing. “They need help. The church is looking for someone to coordinate, and they also need a nurse. I told Sister Chinyere you were back in town.”

“Mama…” Amara’s voice held a warning note. “I’m only here for the summer. I came to help you, not take on projects.”

“I know,” Mama said gently. “But you could do both. You have the skills, Amara. And you’ve always cared about people. This is important for the town. For the church.”

Amara shook her head, trying to hide the unease curling in her stomach. “It’ s not that I don’t care. But I don’t want to get… involved. Not more than I have to.”

Mama’s gaze softened. “Is this about Daniel?”

The question landed like a pebble in still water, sending ripples through the air between them. Amara looked away. “No. It’s about keeping things simple. ”

Her mother reached out, her hand warm over Amara’s. “Sometimes God doesn’t bring us back to a place just for rest, my dear. Sometimes He brings us back to finish what we left undone.”

Amara hesitated, then sighed. She could feel the argument slipping from her grasp. Mama’s health was still fragile, and refusing would only make her worry.

“Alright,” she said finally. “I’ll help… for now. But only until the fair is over.”

Mama smiled, the kind of smile that said she had expected nothing less. “That ’s all I’m asking.”

As Amara went back to the kitchen, she tried to convince herself this was just another favor. Temporary. Harmless. But deep down, she knew that saying yes was like stepping onto a path she’d once vowed never to walk again.

Chapter6:ForcedPartnership

The fellowship hall smelled faintly of coffee and fresh floor polish. Folding tables had been pushed together, a scattering of notebooks, pens, and half- empty mugs marking each place.

Amara slipped in quietly, hoping to take a seat at the far end. She spotted Sister Chinyere waving her over. “Amara! Good, you’re here. Sit, sit.”

It was only when Amara reached the table that she saw him.

Daniel, pen in hand, his Bible open beside a neatly organized agenda. He glanced up, and for a moment his expression was unreadable.

“Amara,” he said with a small nod. “Daniel.” She returned it, equally measured.

Sister Chinyere clapped her hands. “Since you both have experience—Daniel with community work, Amara with healthcare—we’ve decided you’ll co-lead the clinic revival and the health fair planning.”

Amara’s stomach tightened. “Co-lead?”

“Yes,” Chinyere said cheerfully, oblivious to the tension crackling in the space between them. “You complement each other’s skills perfectly.”

Daniel

He’d suspected this might happen, but hearing it confirmed still set his pulse ticking faster. Co-leading meant late nights, shared responsibilities… and no avoiding the past.

Still, the clinic needed saving, and Amara was the best-qualified nurse in town. He kept his tone neutral. “We should start by reviewing the budget shortfall and prioritizing the essentials.”

Amara

She nodded, pulling her notepad closer. “Fine. But I’m only here until the fair is done.” She said it to the table, but really, she was saying it to him.

They spent the next hour outlining tasks—contacting local sponsors, recruiting volunteers, securing permits. Each exchange was polite but clipped, like two strangers learning to dance without stepping on each other’s toes.

When the meeting wrapped up, Daniel stacked his notes. “I’ll email you the draft schedule,” he said.

“I’ll review it tonight,” she replied.

For a heartbeat, their eyes met—civil, but shadowed by things neither dared put into words. Then they both turned away, retreating to the safety of their separate paths… paths that, for the next few weeks, would run uncomfortably close.

Chapter7:TheFirstSmallWin

The open-air market bustled with the hum of voices, the scent of roasted plantains drifting over from a nearby stall. Amara adjusted the portable blood pressure cuff on the folding table, her nurse’s kit neatly arranged beside her.

“Ready?” Daniel asked, unfolding a stack of flyers.

“As I’ll ever be,” she said, tugging on a fresh pair of gloves.

They’d agreed to start small—one morning of free blood pressure screenings to reintroduce the clinic to the community. The idea was Daniel’s, but the execution had been smooth between them. Too smooth, Amara thought, considering their history.

Daniel

He moved through the crowd easily, greeting people by name, drawing them toward the table. Amara worked quietly but efficiently, explaining readings with a calm authority that made people lean in and listen.

When one elderly man looked nervous, Daniel crouched beside him, telling a quick story about how the youth group had teased him for nearly fainting at his own check-up. The man laughed and relaxed.

They made a good team. Daniel didn’t want to admit it—not even to himself— but the old rhythm between them was still there, just buried under a decade of silence.

Amara

Every time she looked up, Daniel was there—handing her the next patient, fetching water, answering questions. It was… easy. Easier than she’d expected. She caught herself smiling once and quickly looked down at her notes.

By midday, they’d screened nearly fifty people. A few had high readings and promised to visit the clinic. The local radio host stopped by, snapping a photo and promising to mention it on air.

When they began packing up, Daniel brushed the dust from his hands. “That went well.”

“It did,” she admitted, and for a moment, the walls between them felt thinner.

As they loaded the last chair into the church van, Amara caught his eye. Neither spoke, but something passed between them—recognition, maybe, of how good it felt to accomplish something together.

It was a small win. But small wins, she knew, had a way of leading to bigger ones.

Chapter8:NightWalkandOldWounds

The market had gone quiet hours ago, but Amara still felt the echo of the day ’s chatter in her ears. She had stayed late at her mother’s, tidying up and setting out her evening medicine, and now the walk back to her small rented flat took her through streets bathed in soft lamplight.

Grace River at night was a different place — slower, gentler. The jacaranda blossoms on the sidewalk glowed faintly under the yellow streetlights.

Somewhere, a dog barked twice, then fell silent.

She should have been thinking about the success of the blood pressure screening, about the smiles and thank-yous and the way the radio mention might help the clinic. Instead, her mind kept circling back to Daniel — not just how naturally they had worked together today, but the look in his eyes when he ’d said, That went well.

It had been years since she’d seen that look. Years since she’d let herself think about the night everything fell apart.

She had been twenty-two then, full of plans that felt bigger than Grace River. Daniel had been steady, grounded, talking about building a life here. She’d loved him — fiercely, recklessly — but when the thing she’d feared most happened, shame had swallowed her whole.

The memory still had teeth. The late-night argument outside the church hall, her voice breaking as she told him she couldn’t stay. The way he’d called after her as she walked away, each step heavier than the last.

She had never told him the full truth — the mistake she believed would ruin him if it came to light. Better, she’d thought then, to vanish and let him hate her a little than to stay and risk destroying his future.

But shame had a way of outlasting even the best intentions. It followed her to the city, to the hospital wards, into every quiet moment when there was nothing left to distract her.

Tonight, as she turned onto her street, she realized the years hadn’t dulled it much. Being back here, working beside Daniel… it was like reopening a wound she’d only ever stitched shut on the surface.

She let herself into the flat, the key cool in her hand. The silence inside was a relief, but it didn’t stop the questions that trailed her into sleep:

How long could she keep the past buried?

And what would happen if it refused to stay there?

Chapter9:Daniel’sBurden

The parsonage was quiet when Daniel returned that night. He set his keys on the small table by the door and shrugged off his jacket, the faint scent of dust and roasted plantains still clinging to him from the market.

The success of the screening should have lifted his spirits — and in some ways, it had. People had come, they’d listened, and some had agreed to visit the clinic. Yet underneath the small victory was a heavier weight he couldn’t shake.

He stepped into the study, a narrow room lined with bookshelves, and sank into the worn leather chair by the desk. The lamplight pooled over his Bible, still open from his morning reading.

He bowed his head.

Lord, You’ve placed me here for a reason. I believe that. I love this town, these people. But I can’t shake the fear that we’re building on ground that could give way.

He thought of the clinic — the leaking roof, the empty supply shelves, the grant money that had evaporated overnight. They were trying to breathe life into something that might not survive the year. And if it failed, what then?

He had been offered positions in the city before, roles with more resources and less uncertainty. But each time he’d felt that quiet, unshakable nudge to stay in Grace River. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if staying meant sacrificing more than he realized.

And now, Amara.

Working with her again stirred things he thought were settled. He had forgiven her, yes. But forgiveness didn’t erase the memory of standing alone in the dark all those years ago, wondering why she had walked away without a word that made sense.

He rubbed his temples. Lord, if this is from You, help me to walk in it. And if it’s not… close the door before my heart gets ahead of Your will.

The words sat in the quiet, unanswered. But as he closed his Bible and prepared for bed, Daniel knew one thing for certain: whether the clinic

thrived or failed, the next few weeks would test more than just his leadership.

Chapter10:RumorsRekindled

Amara had just stepped out of the bakery with a warm loaf of bread when she heard her name.

“Amara! My goodness, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

It was Auntie Bisi — not her real aunt, but in Grace River, certain titles stuck whether you claimed them or not. She was in her usual market-day outfit, a bright wrapper and matching headscarf, the kind of cheerful armor she wore into every conversation.

Amara smiled politely. “Good afternoon, Auntie Bisi. How are you?”

“Oh, we thank God,” Bisi said, looping her arm through Amara’s before she could step away. “I was just telling Sister Nkechi how nice it is to see you back. So many people are talking, you know.”

Amara’s grip on the bread tightened. “Talking?”

Bisi’s eyes danced with the kind of mischief she claimed was harmless. “ About you and Pastor Daniel, of course. Some say this clinic project is the Lord’s way of bringing you back together. Others remember… well.” She lowered her voice. “They remember how things ended.”

Heat rose in Amara’s face. “People have good imaginations.”

“Hmm.” Bisi tilted her head. “But imagination usually has a seed of truth, doesn’t it? I always said the two of you were—”

“Auntie Bisi,” Amara cut in gently but firmly, “I’m here to help my mother and the clinic. That’s all.”

Bisi’s smile was all sympathy and curiosity. “Of course, my dear. I’m only saying, people remember. And they notice.”

As the older woman drifted off to greet another friend, Amara stood for a moment on the sidewalk, the bread cooling in her hands. She had known returning to Grace River would mean facing questions. But she hadn’t expected the past to be resurrected in casual conversations on a Wednesday afternoon.

She exhaled sharply and started home, her mind replaying Bisi’s words. They notice.

The thought unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.