stepped into the parlor. Mary, the eldest child at twelve, kept the younger ones occupied on a quilt set up in the corner. The two boys, Seth and Georgie, stacked small wooden blocks, then howled with laughter when they knocked the tower down, only to start the process again.
“Libby! Libby!” a sweet voice trilled.
Livy held out her arms as Mary’s little sister, Grace, toddled to her. “Hello, sweetheart.”
The toddler patted her cheeks. “Libby’s home! Libby’s home!”
Livy nuzzled the child’s neck, inhaling her sweet baby scent. Grace giggled.
“Yes, Libby’s home.” Livy glanced at Mary and the other children. “It’s almost time for supper. Go wash up now.”
Against her better judgment, Livy’s mind conjured up flashing green eyes as she wiped Grace’s face and hands. Would Jake Russell call on her? Why would such a thought even occur to her? What man who could have his pick of women would call on a girl who lived in an orphanage, a girl who came from a questionable background and didn’t have a penny to her name?
And one who’d sprawled all over him like a strumpet.
Mercy! What if Miss Maisie or Miss Janie, the Huff sisters, had witnessed such an unladylike display? Her reputation would be in tatters. Not that she’d brought much of a reputation with her to Chestnut, but Mrs. Brooks had insisted she could start over here. There was no need to air her past like a stained quilt on a sunny day.
Maybe she wouldn’t see Jake again. Or maybe she would. Chestnut wasn’t that big.
More importantly, did she want to see him?
She didn’t have any interest in courting, falling in love, and certainly no interest in marriage and childbirth. She knew firsthand where that could lead. Rescuing children from the streets fulfilled her desire for a family, and she’d do well to remember that.
Georgie shoved ahead of Seth. Livy snagged the child and tucked him back in line. “Don’t push. You’ll have your turn.”
When all hands were clean, Livy led the way to the kitchen. A scramble ensued as the children jockeyed for position at the long trestle table.
Mrs. Brooks clapped her hands. “All right, everyone, it’s time to say the blessing.” Her firm but gentle voice calmed the chaos, and the children settled down. “Thank You, Lord, for the food we are about to partake. Bless each one at this table, and keep us safe from harm. Amen.”
The children dug in with relish, and Livy took Grace from Mary’s arms. “Here; I’ll feed her. Enjoy your supper.”
Livy mashed a small helping of vegetables in a saucer and let them cool.
“Grace do it,” the child demanded.
“All right, but be careful.” Livy concentrated on helping the child feed herself without making too much of a mess.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
Livy jumped as loud knocking reverberated throughout the house.
“I wonder who that could be?” Mrs. Brooks folded her napkin.
“I’ll get it.” Livy stepped into the foyer. Resting her hand on the knob, she called out, “Who’s there?”
“Sheriff Carter, ma’am.”
Livy’s hands grew damp, but she resisted the urge to bolt. The sheriff didn’t have reason to question her or to haul her off to jail. Jesus had washed away her sins and made her a new creature. She wasn’t the person she’d been two years ago. She prayed every day she wouldn’t let Him down.
Some days were harder than others.
She took a deep breath and opened the door, a smile plastered on her face. “Good evening, Sheriff. May I help you?”
The aged sheriff touched his fingers to his hat. “Evening, ma’am. Sorry to bother you, but we’ve got a problem.”
“Yes?”
The sheriff glanced toward the street, and for the first time, Livy noticed a wagon and the silhouettes of several people.
Mrs. Brooks appeared behind her. “What is it, Livy?”
Sheriff Carter spoke up. “There’s been a wagon accident. A family passing through on the outskirts of town. Their horses bolted. I’m sad to say the driver—a man—was killed, leaving three children.”
Livy peered into the darkness, her heart going out to the little ones. “Are the children out there? Are they hurt?”
“They’re fine. Nary a scratch as far as we can tell. We thought the orphanage might take them.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Brooks took charge. “Bring them in out of the cold. Livy, go fetch some blankets. The poor dears are probably frozen with cold and fear.”
Livy ran, her mind flying as fast as her feet. Less than an hour before, they’d prayed for help to feed the children already in their care. How could they manage three more?