Feeling as if she were peering into the window of a woman’s soul, Lily couldn’t force her eyes away from that first entry. She read it several times and thought of Braden. Evidently, there had been single mothers trying to raise children on their own for a century and a half. She carefully closed the journal, put it back in the secretary, and lifted the flap back into place. She wanted to read more, but just reading that much made her feel guilty about peeking at someone’s intimate thoughts. Besides, tomorrow was Sunday, and that meant going to church, so she couldn’t stay up reading about Ophelia’s life half the night. She got dressed for bed, turned off the light, and slipped beneath the covers.

She closed her eyes, but the words from the journal still ran through her mind. Had Ophelia and William slept in a four-poster bed like this one? Had she soaked her pillow with tears for him every night that he was gone to the war, or did she have so much to do, trying to keep her children fed and clothed, that she had no time for tears?

Lily seldom ever dreamed, and when she did, she usually woke up with every detail still fresh in her mind. The next morning, she sat up in bed, and for a split second, she was Ophelia, and Braden and Holly were Matilda and Henry. She rubbed her eyes and looked around at the room. Then she remembered who and where she was. She turned the alarm off two minutes before it was set to ring and threw back the covers.

“That was one crazy dream.” She longed to read more of the journal that morning. She felt like a moth drawn to a flame, as if she should read it from the first to the last. Maybe by the time she’d read the rest of Ophelia’s story, she’d figure out who the woman was and why Lily’s mother had the journal. Maybe Ophelia just needed someone to sympathize with her even though more than 150 years had passed. But Lily had breakfast to cook, and then it would be time to get ready for church. The kids had been used to sleeping in on Sunday, so there was no doubt that there would be groaning and moaning.

She dressed in jeans and a baggy T-shirt, pulled on a pair of socks, and padded down the staircase. When she made it to the foyer, she could smell coffee, and she saw that the light was on in the kitchen.

“Good mornin’,” she said as she entered the room and headed for the coffeepot. “Are you an early riser, too?”

“I’ve been up for a couple of hours,” Mack told her. “Five o’clock is when I start my day. I’ve already fed the goats and chipped the layer of ice off their water tank. Do y’all go to church?” He beat her to the coffeepot, filled two mugs, and handed one to her.

“We do today.” She leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. “We haven’t been in more than a year. The kids didn’t want to go, and I let them make the decision. Do you go?”

“I’m the Sunday-school teacher for the twelve-to-fifteen-year-old group. Are y’all just going to church or to—” he started to ask.

She butted in. “We’ll be going to both. Sunday school still starts at ten, right?”

He nodded. “Then church right after at eleven.”

“Just like when I was a kid,” she said.

“Things don’t change too much in Comfort.” He grinned back at her.

“Thank God for that,” she sighed. “Have you eaten yet? I checked last night and found everything I need to make sausage and pancakes. I’ll replenish the grocery supplies tomorrow morning.”

“I haven’t had breakfast, and you’re welcome to use whatever is here whenever you want,” he told her.

“We need to talk about your rent, too.” She set her coffee on the counter and got the sausage out of the refrigerator. “I figure since we’re staying here, it’s not fair to charge you rent.”

Mack got the flour and other ingredients for pancakes from the pantry. “That’s pretty generous of you. How about I still pay all the utilities, and we split the cost of the groceries?”

“That’s more than fair.” She found her mother’s cast-iron skillets right where Vera always kept them and got out two—one for sausage and the other for pancakes.

“I like to cook, so I don’t mind sharing the workload,” he said. “I’ve got a roast thawed to put in the oven this morning. It should be ready when we get home from church.”

“Mama always made roast for Sunday dinner.” The memory put another smile on her face.

“My mother still does, and until they moved to be near Dad’s doctors, I ate with them on Sunday. It’ll be nice to have family around me again.” He reached into the cabinet for a bowl to stir up the batter for pancakes, and his arm brushed against Lily’s shoulder. Sparks flew, but Lily attributed them to the fact that she hadn’t been in a relationship in years. She’d be crazy not to be attracted to a good-looking man like Mack.

Lily had worried about how things would work with Mack in the house, but it looked like she’d fretted for nothing. He was agreeable to a really good financial arrangement, and he liked to cook. She couldn’t ask for anything more out of a roommate—unless he also liked to wake up grumpy and belligerent kids.

While the sausage cooked and Mack flipped pancakes, Lily set the table for four. She waited until breakfast was cooked before she went to get the kids. Dreading even talking to Holly, she decided to rap on Braden’s door first. He threw it open and sniffed the air.

“I smell food.” He ran down the stairs in a blur.

She crossed the hall and knocked on Holly’s door, but there was no answer. She cracked the door open and saw that her daughter’s bed had been slept in, but she was gone. Lily’s heart rose up in her throat, and her chest tightened.

“What are you doin’?” Holly asked right behind her. “Already inspecting my stuff to be sure I didn’t sneak any pot in with my things?”

Lily turned around. “No, smarty-pants, I came to call you to breakfast. We’ll be having three meals a day around the table from now on.”

Holly frowned and unwound the towel from her wet hair. “I haven’t even got my makeup on yet.”

“Breakfast first, then makeup and getting dressed for Sunday school and church.” Lily put her hands on Holly’s shoulders and turned her toward the stairs. “We’re having pancakes.”

Holly set her heels and shrugged off her mother’s hands. “I’ll bring mine up to my room after I get my makeup on, and I’m not going to church or Sunday school.”