rounded belly, wiped away tears of laughter. Next to her, a tall, tanned woman practically doubled over as she laughed. Behind them strode a dark-skinned girl with sleek black curls and the long legs of a dancer.
And a guide dog.
“I love this house.” Dawn Anne ran her hand across the granite countertop. “I want to buy it.”
Still in awe of the easy banter, Emily shook her head. “You’d never leave Colorado.”
“Actually…” Dawn Anne smiled and nodded toward Sierra, kneeling on the floor beside Beacon. “It appears we will. If our rising star lets her mom and dad follow her to Julliard in the fall.”
Susan gasped. Sierra pumped the air with her fist. “I got a full scholarship and I can start a year earlier than I thought!”
Emily grabbed the edge of the counter to steady herself. Dawn Anne’s hand grasped her elbow. “You okay, Em?”
She felt the color seeping from her cheeks. “Scholarship? How? I thought…”
Sierra stood, one hand on Beacon’s head. “Crazy, isn’t it? I auditioned a month ago.” A wide grin accentuated high cheekbones. “I thought that dream was dead, but Mom found a dance instructor in Denver whose daughter is blind. She’s amazing. It’s hard, but I just needed to learn new tricks, like being really precise in my counts. It’s kind of a cool faith builder.” Joy lit unseeing eyes. “My instructor told us about a foundation that awards scholarships to handicapped dancers. Well, deaf and blind dancers. Pretty hard if you only have one leg.” She burst into giggles that spread to her mom and then Susan.
“A full…” Emily’s voice barely made it over the sound of sanding and men’s laughter from upstairs. She rubbed her hand along the granite countertop she leaned on for support. So all of this work was for—
“What say we go get some food for those hardworking hunky men upstairs? And us.” Susan patted her tummy. “This little guy demands feedings every three hours.” Her eyes darted to Emily.
Numbly, Emily nodded. “Why don’t you two go. Sierra and I can walk the dog.” Not that her legs were stable enough to cross the room at the moment.
Dawn Ann and Susan grabbed purses and left. Emily stared at Sierra. “Congratulations. I thought you were focusing on piano.” Her voice faded. “This is amazing. Dance has always been your first love.”
“Yeah. I used to think I couldn’t live without it. I found out I could, but how cool is it that I don’t have to?” She blinked several times. “God is so awesome.”
“Yeah.” Emily’s numb brain didn’t know where to take the conversation from there.
“Tell me more about your house.”
“Can you keep a secret?” The question blurted out. She hadn’t planned it.
“Better than anyone.”
“This house was a stop on the Underground Railroad.”
“Really?”
“There’s a room off the cellar and we found old letters that give proof it was used to hide slaves.”
“Why is it a secret?”
“I don’t want this place turning into a circus while we’re trying to finish the remodeling. I want this work done…soon.” Voicing it brought the truth home with breath-stopping force: none of her self-imposed deadlines mattered anymore.
“Show me the room.”
Emily hesitated. “Okay. It’s this way.” She touched Sierra’s arm.
“Tell me everything.”
“Run your fingers along the edge of the door. I’ve counted at least six different colors of paint.”
Sierra caressed the wood. “It’s like feeling history.”
Feeling history. “It is. There’s a built-in cupboard in the corner by the window. I stripped it and refinished it. It felt like going back through time, each layer of paint represented an era, or a season in someone’s life. I tried picturing women at the turn of the last century or in the forties or sixties. The cupboards are all new and I need to sand down all the trim, but I don’t want to do this door.”
“You should leave it. The lady who’s buying it might like the slice of history.”
“Maybe I will.” She opened the door. “Here, on this side of the door you can just barely make out a faded painting or stencil of a basket with a handle. The basket is full of apples and one apple is sitting beside it.”
“Does it look really old?”
“Yes. And the cool thing is, there’s an almost identical picture carved into the tombstone of the wife of the man who built this house.”
“Wow.” Sierra rubbed bare arms. “Goose-bumpy.”
“I know. Grab the railing. It’s rough. Be careful you don’t get splinters. I’ll go first and you can put your hand on my shoulder. There