front room floor with pastoral seriousness. Mrs. Turner laid an encouraging hand on Holly’s arm and smiled her agreement. Still, the Reverend pondered Holly’s proposition for what seemed like a century. Finally, he turned back to the women. “Well...” he said, eyes narrowed and face so unreadable it made Holly want to burst.
“Well what?” Holly nearly yelled. She’d left her patience and good manners back in the teacherage. The moment she knocked on the Reverend’s door, some bit of her heart resolved she would not leave without his consent. This was to be and it was hers to make it so.
“Well, I think I ought to thank God for answering my prayer through you. I don’t know if it can be arranged, but if God wills it, I think these children should find homes in Evans Grove.”
“He does!” Holly proclaimed, grabbing the Reverend’s arm.
“So quick to presume the Lord’s perfect intent, are you?” His words were scolding, but his eyes twinkled in amusement.
“I believe He does,” Holly corrected. “Truly. I tell you I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” All the strain and sorrow of yesterday had evaporated in the brilliant light of this idea. It seemed no surprise at all that the sun was peeking out through the gray clouds as she pulled open the Reverend’s door. “I’ll go tell Rebecca—Miss Sterling—right away. Surely she knows what needs to happen in order for the children to stay here.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Reverend Turner said. “I’ll go talk to Mayor Evans and Miss Ward. They’ll need to be in on this if it’s to be successful. Why don’t you talk further with Miss Sterling and we’ll meet back at eleven? We’ll see how it goes from there.”
Holly stepped out into the brightening morning and dashed down the block to the schoolhouse. She didn’t bother to step around puddles or even care about whether her wrap stayed straight.
She didn’t bother to look around at all. This was why she went to Newfield. This was why yesterday’s horrors could be laid at God’s feet. This was why Stuart Arlington could rest in peace. Holly didn’t have to see “how it would go from here.” She already knew.
* * *
Mason was just stepping off the green onto Second Street when Holly Sanders slammed into him. “Whoa, there!” Short as she was, it surprised him she could muster enough force to knock him off balance. Had he not looked up the moment he did, they both would have found themselves smack in a mud puddle. As it was, he had to grab her and hang on for dear life to keep the pair of them upright.
“Oh, my!” She was nearly giddy, and he found he couldn’t quite summon the impulse to release her tiny waist. “I’d have surely fallen. Oh, my.” Her fluster amused him too much to be sour at the jolt. “Good morning!” She looked up at him with doe eyes.
“Morning,” he managed, still a bit stunned. He’d had a terrible night, filled with dark dreams when he wasn’t kept awake by the incessant complaining of his wounded prisoners. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to make his eyes as wide and glowing as hers currently were. Here the sun was just barely creeping into the sky, and Holly Sanders looked as if someone had just handed her a birthday cake. “What’s gotten into you?” He didn’t mean it to sound gruff, but he wasn’t in the habit of recovering from such early morning assaults—not the ones that wore bonnets and smelled like vanilla, anyway. He instructed his hands to let go of her.
She got a determined look on her face, one of those “anyway” looks he saw on her during tiring town meetings. A pouting set of her chin that said “I will do this or that anyway, no matter how you object or complain.” He waited for her hands to plant on her hips in exasperation—what she usually did in meetings—but they flew to her chest.
“The most wonderful, perfect idea. That’s what’s gotten into me.”
Now he was even more curious. “And what is that?”
“I believe God wants the orphans to stay here.”
She said it like fact. An indisputable truth like Tuesday follows Monday or two plus two equals four.
“God wants the orphans to stay here.” Mason repeated slowly, thinking it sounded more like two plus two equals seventeen.
“Yes, I truly believe that.” She straightened her shawl. “They need us, and we need them.”
Mason scratched his chin. Now he really needed more coffee. “Not too many folks around here would argue for more mouths to feed. Some folks don’t even have a roof over their head to host their own kin, much less take in an orphan.”
“And some folks have lost far too much and have buried too many of their own kin. Before yesterday, all I could see when I looked at my class was the empty seats. They weren’t even my own blood, but their loss...” Her voice caught on the word. He’d never realized how much care she had for her students. “Well, it was all I could see. All the loss, everywhere.” She gestured to the town square behind him. “Didn’t you see what happened last night? How people behaved? The way they acted like...like the world was starting to turn the right way again?” She started walking toward the schoolhouse with swift, purposeful steps. For a tiny thing, that woman could move fast. “They’re supposed to be here. They’re God’s gift to us.”
Chapter Five
“I hardly think these urchins are a gift from God.” Beatrice Ward’s scowl had started with Miss Sanders’s first word and hadn’t let up for the entire meeting. “They’re a burden.” The old woman mopped her brow with a handkerchief as if the eight children made her physically ill. “Evans Grove has borne enough burdens already; why on earth would we add more?”
“God calls us to bear each other’s burdens, Miss Ward,” said Reverend Turner. Mason had wondered how long it would take before the pastor regretted including Beatrice. Still, Mason recognized what the Reverend already surrendered to; The only thing worse than Beatrice Ward in a meeting was her vengeance for being left out of one.
“I must say I agree with Holly.” Pauline Evans steepled her hands as they sat around the reverend’s dining table. “I can’t ignore how this town looked and acted last night. We pulled together.”
“We’ve been pulling together for weeks. Some of us don’t even have a roof over our head.” Beatrice mopped her brow again. That bitter old biddy never, ever missed a chance to point out that her home had been damaged beyond occupancy. It wouldn’t surprise Mason if Beatrice didn’t think her loss was as bad or worse than Pauline’s, who had lost the love of her life to the flood’s raging waters.
He’d had enough of her raining all over Miss Sanders’s optimism and couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Mayor Evans is right. Things felt like the old Evans Grove last night. Considering the day we’d just had, that ought to count for something.”
“What I’m counting,” Beatrice said as she tucked her handkerchief back into her pocket and narrowed her eyes at Mason, “is how many criminals we have housed in our jail at the moment.”
Oh, no you don’t. Mason went right on as if he hadn’t heard her, addressing his point to the Reverend and mayor, instead. “If Miss Sterling is agreeable to it—”
“And she is,” cut in Holly. “She most definitely is. She said all we need is a selection committee to place the orphans with families, and I’m sure I can get folks to serve on that.”
A committee. He knew enough to steer clear of committees. He’d see Miss Sanders’s idea safely launched and keep out of the way. She needed something to do, to heal, and this seemed like a good fit that thankfully wouldn’t include him. “Then I can’t see what harm would come of asking the good people of Evans Grove if they’ve a mind to take these youngsters in. Miss Sterling and I are wiring New York about the late Mr. Arlington as soon as I’m done here.”
“Oh, that’s just so sad,” Pauline Evans said quietly. “I’ll