the hospital.
Along one wall, an old quilt covered something about ten feet long. She yanked the quilt. Dust plumes danced in the shaft of gold sunlight straining through the west window. A church pew, dark-stained and shiny. Clusters of grapes with pointy leaves and curling tendrils decorated the back. On the end of the bench sat a Bible, the edges of the black cover ragged and curled. With the quilt at her feet, Emily sank to the bench.
On the wall directly across the room from her hung a three-foot-high black iron cross.
With it, she could break a window. But the thought of breaking the old glass seemed as sacrilegious as using a cross to do it.
Who had hung it here in this silent sanctuary? And who had made the decision to leave it?
She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, opened to her contacts list, and scrolled it. She knew two people in this town. Matt Rayburg and Jacob Braden.
Banishing the last shred of her pride, she decided to call the arrogant man who lived in the neighborhood. When she’d finished leaving a message, she sank back on the pew and stared at the cross. This would be a perfect place to pray.
She looked down at the faded quilt and began counting stitches.
September 2, 1852
“We need more.”
Hannah knelt in the stifling attic and dropped a buffalo robe onto the two quilts in Papa’s open arms. Only one blanket remained.
“Bertha Willett said we’ll find some in the buggy after church.”
“Bless that woman.” She put one high-laced shoe on the ladder step, straightened her skirt about her ankles, and climbed down. “She’ll be blessed in eternity, and we’ll get just the opposite for lying to her.”
Papa stood at the top of the stairs, petting his newly plastered wall as if it were a prized heifer. He shook his head. “When faced with two moral dilemmas, always choose the greater good. We’ve done no harm to Mrs. Willett by letting her believe she’s making quilts for orphans.”
Hannah shook the dust from her skirt and held out her arms for the blankets. “What was it that made a man with a spiritual answer for everything become a shopkeeper instead of a minister?”
A sad smile crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes. “A sweetheart who wanted to marry a man who would indulge her.”
Mirroring his smile, Hannah touched the wall in the same endearing fashion. “You did well for Mama.”
A long sigh echoed off the empty walls. “If only she could have seen the house finished.”
She refrained from saying We will not speak of what might have been. It was good for them to talk of Mama, to keep her memory alive. “She had three years to enjoy her stove and the cupboard…” She almost added before, but the word didn’t need to be spoken. “She was happy. You built her ‘the best new house in the best new state.’” She watched Mama’s phrase darken his eyes. Hard as it was, he needed to be reminded.
Papa walked into the room that would be Hannah’s as soon as the wallpaper arrived—a room with an actual closet with shelves on the bottom, and Liam’s hooks on all three sides—the closet she’d already covered with a gingham curtain to hide the bit of carpentry she’d done herself.
She took him by the arm and steered him away from her closet. “The pies should be cool by now.”
CHAPTER 3
Taste?” Jake held his cone out to Lexi. She licked it, a splotch of green ice cream landing on her chin, another on the picnic table. He handed her a napkin.
“Mine’s better. Taste?” Eyes gleaming, she proffered a heap of neon blue with colored bits.
“Not a chance. You gotta wonder how this came about. Some dude coughs a wad of gum into the custard mix and says, ‘Hey, let’s call it Batman Bubblegum!’”
“A stroke of genius.”
Jake shook his head. “There are names for people like you. Weird, for one.” He handed her a second napkin for the blue moustache sprouting on her upper lip. “You look like your mom when you smile like that.”
“Like this?” She punctuated a warped grin with a blue tongue.
The sassy face, meant to make him smile, felt like a curled fist pressed to his sternum. She’d inherited Abby’s comedic timing. “Yeah. Just like that.”
Lexi handed her cone to him. “Okay, be serious for a sec.” She pulled the band out of her ponytail and fluffed her hair over her shoulders. “Do I look