they turned out to be strangers to her? What if home wasn’t home any longer?
“Are you two still out here?” Faith held up a lamp as she opened the screen door. “Ah, yes. Room for one more?”
“Of course.” Connie put aside her regrets.
“Faith knows plenty herself,” Nancy said in a hushed tone.
Connie had not anticipated this, but it was as good a place to start as any. “I think we have a great deal to discuss, then, and we might as well get started. Clint said we’ll leave the day after tomorrow.”
“The night air is growing damp. Why don’t we go back inside? I’ll make some tea,” Nancy said, moving toward the door without waiting for their response.
“I’ll go get your presents.” Connie followed. “I keep forgetting to give them to you. I brought them from Washington, since I knew for sure I’d be seeing you. I’ll join you in the kitchen momentarily.”
She hurried to the room Nancy had given her and opened one of her trunks. Taking up her gifts, she made her way back to join Faith and Nancy. How strange that Nancy should know so much about her real reason for coming to Oregon. Connie couldn’t help but wonder what further insight her cousins might provide.
“This is for you, Faith.” She placed a paper-wrapped bundle in front of her cousin. “A wedding gift.”
Faith untied the string that held the package together. Once the paper was folded back, she gasped. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s Brussels lace—a tablecloth. I don’t know that you’ll have any use for it onboard a riverboat, but I thought it was exquisite.”
“It is,” Faith said, touching it. “I’ve never seen anything quite so lovely. Thank you. I’ll use it for very special occasions.”
Nancy came to the table to better see it. She ran her finger along the pattern. “It is beautiful.”
“This gift is for you, Nancy. A baby gift.”
Nancy took the offered package and opened it. Inside was an intricately fashioned baby quilt. She admired it for a moment, then looked up with a smile. “I love it. How beautiful. Did you make it?”
“Aunt Phinny and I did it together. When Mama wrote to say you were having a baby, I explained to Aunt Phinny how long you had waited for this and how it was a miracle from God. She said we needed to do something to commemorate the event, so we went to work creating this quilt. I went all over Washington, DC, to find just the right materials. You can see the blocks are all samples of various techniques. Aunt Phinny thought the basic colors of red, white, and blue would be patriotic and later make a good lap warmer when the baby grew to adulthood.”
“It’s perfect. I will cherish it always.” Nancy gave her a tight embrace. “Thank you.”
Faith got to her feet and joined in the hug. “Yes, thank you, Connie. It’s so good to have you home.”
Chapter 6
Home.
It was a concept that had taken on many forms over Connie’s lifetime. She had grown up on the reservation, and it was home. Then the government decided against continuing to allow her folks to be teachers and pastors for the reservation and gave the Catholic Church the job. That was when her family had purchased land just beyond the reservation boundaries, and that had become home. When she moved to Washington, DC, Uncle Dean’s house captured the role. Later, the little house in New York had been home when she’d attended college. Seven girls had shared the cottage, along with a house mother who had kept them all accountable. For most of the girls, this was their first time away from the only home they’d known, and they pined and mourned for the familiar.
Connie always felt that home was wherever she determined it to be. Her mother had taught her this. She wasn’t one of those people who longed for what had once been, but now, upon returning to the reservation, she felt disappointed.
The reservation wasn’t what she remembered. In her memories, she had recalled a lovely place with a pleasant river valley lined by trees. In and around it were hills to climb and open land to farm and log. Spirit Mountain rose like a lone sentinel. Now, however, the place she had once loved looked desolate. Worn down. Lonely.
The storm in January had felled a great many trees, many of which hadn’t yet been dealt with. The houses lacked paint and glass windows. Perhaps the latter had been blown out