Tomorrow's Sun (Lost Sanctuary) - By Becky Melby Page 0,67

done, but it came close. Lexi dipped half a chicken strip into barbeque sauce and plunged it into his cup.

“Yum. Thanks.” Without even blinking, Adam pulled it out, dripping with strawberry shake, and popped it into his mouth. “Like I was saying,” he garbled, “we need to take crayons and paper.”

“You want to color pretty pictures at the cemetery?” Her voice was angrier than she wanted it to be.

Adam did the slow head-shake thing that said he was way smarter than her.

“For rubbings, right?” Jake asked. Her uncle never intentionally made her feel dumb. Sometimes it just happened.

Adam swirled the barbeque sauce with his straw. “Right.” The top of his shake turned brownish pink. He slurped it off.

“I’m not going.” She didn’t need a reason for not wanting to walk over places where people were buried.

“Why?” Her brother and her uncle asked at the same time.

“It’s creepy.”

Adam pointed an onion ring at her. “It’s history. I looked it up. There are tombstones there from the 1840s. I love finding kids who died when they were like our age and trying to guess what killed them.”

“Ewww.” This time Jake said the same thing she did. She grabbed the onion pointed at her and took a massive bite. “That’s disgusting.”

“No it isn’t. It makes you glad to be living in the twenty-first century. Imagine not having all the medical breakthroughs we have now. A hundred and fifty years ago if you’d had an asthma attack you wouldn’t have—”

“Adam. Eat.” Jake sounded tough but he was smiling. Men.

“You guys are both disgusting.”

Adam pointed to her shake. “Theobromine in chocolate can help relax your bronchial tubes, so you’d have been okay if you lived near a cacao—”

“Adam. Eat.” Jake laid his hand on her arm. “I understand your not wanting to go.”

It took her a second to figure it out. Jake thought she wouldn’t want to go because it would make her think of Mom. Good. She’d play that up. “Thank you. It would be difficult.”

“I know. You don’t—”

“Wait.” Adam shook his head. “That’s not why, is it? You don’t want to go ‘cause Em—” Adam made a face like he’d just bit into a lemon.

Jake’s eyebrows scrunched together. “What is it with you and Emily?”

Lexi wadded her catsup-smeared napkin and threw it at Adam’s face. He was supposed to be the person she could trust with secrets. “Nothing.”

“Emily said you had fun yesterday.”

Lexi shrugged. She’d had fun. But that was yesterday. Before Emily changed her mind about wanting a prince.

Her uncle studied her like she was some newly discovered bug species. And then he pulled his hand away and picked up two French fries. As he swished them in catsup, he said, “Emily’s moving to California as soon as her house sells. Did you know that?”

She’d heard it, but she didn’t know it. Hearing him say it made it seem like it would really happen. Jake wasn’t planning on keeping Emily here. So maybe he’d still build the dream house. In that case, she could stand a couple of hours of walking on dead people. She wiped her hands on her napkin. “I have crayons.”

October 13, 1852

The shop was empty. The coals glowed white as he pumped the bellows then blazed red when he stopped. Liam worked alone today but didn’t know why. Just before ten this morning, Big Jim had jiggled his cot with an urgency that jolted him upright. “Sorry to wake you, boy. I need to talk with someone about getting a delivery from Spring Prairie.”

Liam held his questions. Too many spaces between the wall boards. Too many ears. “I’ll go.”

“Not this time. Going to take some money changing hands to get this one on its way. Are you free tonight?”

“Always.”

The man smiled wryly and nodded. “If there is a God, may He shine on you for it.”

“What’ll you have me do while you’re away?” He wasn’t skilled enough to handle a big job on his own.

“Make nails. Tell the busybodies I’m delivering a harrow to Spring Prairie should they ask, and they will. Act like you slept last night.”

Now, four hours later, the sun was high and sweat ran from his brow. His pile of square nails had grown to two inches and he’d made two hooks the length of his hand for Hannah, adding a fancy twist in one that would impress Jim.

His thoughts danced on the tune played by his hammer as he tickled the anvil with extra strikes between blows to a nail rod. Another year