about her. But—there always seemed to be a but in her life—she couldn’t start something and then walk away from it in a few months. It wouldn’t be fair to him, and it would break her heart, too.
He turned around and headed the short distance to his bedroom, and she went on up the steps, taking them one at a time, and wishing the whole time that she could go back and follow him into his bedroom. Her breath was still coming in short bursts when she reached her bedroom and got the journal out of the secretary. She started toward Holly’s room with it, only to meet her in the hallway.
“Can we read some more?” Holly asked. “I’ve got thirty minutes before bedtime, and I’d like to work on my project.”
“Great minds think alike.” Lily turned around and led the way back to her room.
“Oh, yeah.” Holly grinned and crawled up in the middle of Lily’s bed. “It seems strange, Mama, to read about these women that were kin to us, and the time from one chapter to the next being so far apart. It seems even weirder that we’ve been here in Comfort as long as we have, and it only seems like a day or two.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Lily thought of her and Mack. They were adults living in the same house, but it could so easily turn into more than that, given time. Would she ever write in the journal that she’d gotten married a second time? Would it be Mack, or was he just showing her that there were still a few good men out there in the world?
“Are you going to read or not?” Holly asked impatiently.
Lily glanced down at the book and read:
Jenny Medford O’Riley, May 1917:
Holly let out a long sigh of relief. “I’m glad that she’s still alive. I like her.”
Lily went on:
All we’ve heard for three years is war, war, and more war. The newspapers are full of it. Rather than crops and cattle, our men talk about it constantly. I can’t believe they were so happy when the United States declared war. It’s like they’re little boys in a candy store. I swear if my Danny wasn’t too old, he would rush down into town and enlist. Two of my sons have already joined the army, and two more are about to join. I know now how Grandmother Ophelia must have felt when her husband went to war. Rachel says that if they’d take women, she’d join up tomorrow. I can’t ever imagine a day when women will be in the military. Right now Rachel is working for women’s rights. Although they aren’t accepted so well in a man’s world, we do now have women lawyers and doctors, so we’ve come a long way—and some states are allowing women to vote. My stepfather died last year, and with Samuel gone and Lily moved off to Savannah, Mama was all alone, so she’s come to live with us. I love having her here, and she really enjoys having her great-grandchildren around her. She’s seventy-one years old now, but she’s still in good health.
Lily closed the book and looked straight at Holly. “Are you going to vote when you’re eighteen?”
“Of course I am. Faith and I take our lunch to the library most days and do research. Tomorrow I’m going to look up World War I and women’s voting so I can write a little about it in my journal.” Holly slung her legs off the bed. She didn’t hug Lily that night, but she did stop at the door and say, “Thanks, Mama, for sharing this with me. I’m glad that our Matilda is living with Jenny now. That’s where she belongs, since she’s old.”
“Me, too.” A sudden cloud of guilt floated down to surround Lily like a thick fog. When her father died, she should have insisted that her mother live with her in Austin. They’d had plenty of room in the house she and Wyatt had lived in, so there was no reason Vera couldn’t have stayed with them. Lord only knew, she would have loved to cook for the family, and it would have given her something to live for.
“I could never leave your father’s memory, not even for a week,” her mother had said when Lily asked her about moving to Austin. “Besides, this is where we’ve always had the holidays, and I’ve already got the decorations up.”
That’s what she had said, but now Lily