She read two pages and laid the book aside. The hero in the story already reminded her of Elijah and caused her to think of the comfort she felt when he drew her close to him that morning. She closed her eyes and got a vision of him as he led her away from Dynamite’s body and the girls. Then she touched her lips and thought about the electricity his kiss had stirred up. Even though he wasn’t really a cowboy like the hero in the book, he did wear cowboy boots most of the time and lived on a small farm—or was it a ranch? She’d never really understood the difference between the two.

“A cowboy isn’t necessarily a person, anyway, it’s more like an attitude.” Her mind flashed back to what her grandfather had said when she once asked him what made a real cowboy. “A man can dress up in a hat, fancy boots, and a pearl-snap shirt and go out dancin’ on Saturday night. That doesn’t make him a real cowboy.”

“Then what does?” Jayden had asked.

“It’s respecting women, having a kind heart, working hard, loving the land—all those kinds of things make a cowboy, not a fancy hat and boots,” he had answered.

“Elijah is all those things,” she said as she laid the book back on her nightstand beside her Bible. She hadn’t opened the Bible in years, not since her mother had gotten sick. As far as she was concerned, God had failed her. His word said that if she prayed with her whole heart and believed, then He would answer her prayers. He had not, and her mother had died, so why should she trust anything He had left on record in the Bible?

The black, zippered book seemed to be calling her name, but she ignored it. She had only tucked it into her suitcase because she thought since Skyler had been a counselor at the camp, it’d be the kind of place to have a devotional study every day. Antsy and jittery, she got up and paced around the room several times, then sat on the edge of her bed.

Finally, she reached for the Bible. When she undid the zipper around three sides of its leather binding, a letter fell out onto the floor and slid under her bed. Her brow wrinkled, and she narrowed her eyes so tightly that a pain shot through her head. She couldn’t remember ever tucking a letter into her Bible. Bookmarks, yes, but never a letter. She laid the Bible aside and noticed that it had fallen open to Psalm 23, which was one of her mother’s favorite passages. Then she got down on her knees and retrieved the envelope.

Still sitting on the floor, she leaned back against the bed and removed the pages from the envelope with her name on it. It was written on lined paper with a ragged edge where it had been ripped from a spiral notebook. “Oh. My. God,” she whispered, afraid to blink for fear her mother’s handwriting would disappear before she could read what was written.

Just looking at the first line put a lump in Jayden’s throat and tears welled up behind her eyes. “My dearest daughter,” she whispered, and then began to read silently:

I know you have stopped reading and praying because you think God has failed to make me all better, but after my funeral, you will seek solace and eventually get back in church. That’s why I’m tucking this away in your Bible instead of giving it to the lawyer with Skyler’s. I want you to read this after a little time has passed and you are through being angry at God.

First of all, I’ve always had a sixth sense about things, and I knew something was wrong with me that couldn’t be fixed before I went to the doctor yesterday. The doctor confirmed my suspicions, and I’m choosing not to tell you about the bubble in my brain. It will burst, probably sooner than later, but it’s not something that can be treated or cured. I’m choosing to live each day I have to the fullest and not think about it until the very end.

However, I have made some decisions that will affect you and Skyler. Since your father and I divorced, I admit that I’ve been closer to you. You’ve been here with me, and together we’ve faced a lot of emotional upheavals. I cannot burden you with choosing the right time to take me off life support if it comes to that, so Skyler will have to do it. You would always hold out for one more day to see if I got better. I can’t bear knowing that each day would just bring you more pain. Skyler will take care of it so that you don’t have to. Also, I do not want a big, lavish funeral. I want a simple graveside service with only you girls attending. You would never let that happen, so I’m leaving that to Skyler, also. It’s her turn to shoulder some of the responsibility that you’ve taken on all these years while she’s been off at college or working in the summers at her camps.

I’m leaving her the house because you need to move on with your life and not live in the past, which you will do if you have the homeplace to move into. It needs to be sold, and the profits split between you girls. It’s just a house and should never be a shrine to me or your grandfather. Please, forgive me for keeping things from you and understand that I’ve loved you from the day the nurse at the hospital laid you in my arms. You were so much easier to raise than Skyler, but that was my fault. I thought she was the only child I’d ever have so I let her have her way with everything from the beginning. Once it started, it snowballed, and your father didn’t help matters.

Don’t blame Skyler. She’s only done what I’ve asked her to do in the letter that I’ve left in the lawyer’s hands for her. I’m ready to go. When you are reading this, I will have finished my race here on earth. Don’t mourn for me, but rather remember all the good times we’ve had.

It was signed, Love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, Mama.

Jayden read through it three times, and every time tears fell on the paper, leaving water marks and blurring part of the words. She finally held it to her heart and remembered that her mother had said that thing about bushels and pecks many, many times when she was just a little girl.

When she finally got her emotions under control enough to talk, she picked up the phone and called Skyler. She didn’t care if her sister was mad at her—she wanted to hear about the letter her mother wrote to her.

“Hello!” Skyler’s voice sounded downright chipper.

“Where are you?” Jayden asked.

“I’m in my apartment looking at bridal magazines. Have you changed your mind about giving me the money for my wedding?” Skyler asked.

“No, I have not,” Jayden answered. “Why didn’t you tell me that Mama left letters for us?”

“I figured that the lawyer gave yours to you like he did mine. What did yours say?” Skyler asked. “Did it tell you to be nice to me when I need money?”

“What did your letter say?” Jayden asked.

“Lord, I don’t remember. That was years ago. She mainly said that we were to sell the house and split the profits. I kept a bigger portion because I was the one who did all the work when it came to selling it, and I had to make the decision to pull the plug on life support. I deserved more of the house money. Oh, and that she loved me.” Skyler sighed. “Now, about my wedding?”

“The answer is still no,” Jayden said.

“You’re a sorry excuse for a sister,” Skyler said and then the line went dead.

Jayden was too restless to sleep. The guilt surrounding her for not confronting her sister back when things were happening seemed to smother her. She finally pulled on a pair of shorts because her nightshirt barely covered her underpants and went outside to look at the stars. Going from a nice cool house into the hot night air almost sent her right back inside, but she sat down in a chair and let out a long sigh.