Since Everett had no children, he left his small farm to me. I sold it and gave half the money to Henry. I met Rayford when he came home with Henry after the war. They stayed a couple of months. Everett was kind to Rayford, and I thought folks would be like-minded toward me when I agreed to marry Rayford and go to Pennsylvania with him. I was wrong, but our marriage continues to survive in spite of the prejudices that still linger. My father fought for the Confederacy; his for the Union. The war has been over for years, but both sides still carry a huge grudge. I’ve adapted to the culture of the north, and my children, Jenny and Samuel, are my life. I’m expecting number three around Christmastime, and I’m hoping it’s another boy. Henry married a sweet girl, albeit a nervous woman who spends a lot of time either at the doctor’s or else lying abed. They have no children, and maybe that’s for the best with her constant illness. Looking back, I’m not sure that marrying Rayford was the smartest decision I ever made. He’s a good, hardworking man, but he has a wandering eye when it comes to women. Mama told me when I got on the stagecoach to come here that I’d have to sleep in the bed I’d made. I wonder if the time will ever come when a woman will have the same rights as men.

Oh, Matilda, Lily thought, the day did come, but human nature never changes. Her mama saw something in Wyatt that Lily’s blinded eyes couldn’t. Vera told her the same thing about sleeping in her bed on the day she got married. Her mother said that Wyatt would break her heart because he had a wandering eye, too, and she was right. But she got two beautiful children out of the marriage, so it wasn’t a complete failure.

Lily carefully closed the book and put it back. It was surreal how these women’s lives, women that she’d never met before, could have such an impact on her. She crawled beneath the covers and turned off the light. Moonlight filtered through the lace curtains, leaving abstract shadows on the walls and ceiling. Sleep was a long time coming, and when it did arrive, it was filled with dreams of a grown-up Holly moving miles away and never coming home to see Lily.

Chapter Seven

Mack was glad to finish the first day back after Christmas break on Wednesday. He’d taught long enough to know that it took a couple of days for the kids to settle down after being away from the classroom for two weeks. With a long sigh of relief, he locked up the vo-ag building, got into his truck, and headed home. He turned the radio to his favorite country music station and listened to Blake Shelton sing “Who Are You When I’m Not Looking.”

The lyrics made him wonder who Lily was when he wasn’t around. Was she the stable mother he’d kind of gotten to know the past few days? He was still thinking about that when he parked in front of the house. The first snowflakes of the season drifted down from the gray skies as he made his way across the yard and onto the porch. The aroma of hot yeast bread and warmth surrounded him when he walked in. Now this was the life—coming home to the smell of good food and a warm house, even if the place was more than a hundred years old, with no closets and plenty of problems with the plumbing.

He hung his jacket on the hall tree in the foyer and kicked off his good boots. “Braden, I’m going out to feed the goats if you want to go with me,” he yelled up the stairs.

The front door swung open behind him, and the kids rushed in. They dropped their backpacks on one of the ladder-back chairs in the foyer and hung their jackets beside his on the hall tree.

“I figured y’all would already be home,” Mack said.

“We get on the bus first thing in the morning and off last in the afternoon,” Holly sighed.

“I don’t mind ridin’ the bus all that time because I got all my homework done on the ride home,” Braden said. “Did I hear you talkin’ about feeding the goats?”

“I’m going to change into my work clothes and go out to take care of them. Want to go with me?” Mack asked.

“Sure thing, but only if I can wear Grandpa’s coat. I don’t even care if I look dorky in it. It’ll keep me warm.” Braden nodded. “I guess I’d better change, too, though. That old billy goat always wants me to pet him, and he stinks.”

“Might be a good idea,” Mack agreed. “Elvis is a big baby and loves attention. You want to go with us, Holly? You might like the new babies that were born a few days before y’all got here.”

“They are so cute,” Braden said as he ran up the stairs.

“No, thank you.” Holly snarled at the idea. “Where’s Mama?”

“I’m right here.” Lily came out from the kitchen. “How was your first day?”

Holly shrugged. “Fine.”

“Did anyone comment on your new earrings?” Lily asked.

“Rose and Ivy liked them, and . . .” Holly stopped before she finished and brushed past her mother. “And my history teacher says we have to write a paper on someone in our family. It can be on anyone, but it has to be fact, not fiction, so we can’t just make up a character and pretend we’re related to them. Rose tried to tell him that she was kin to Santa Anna, and he said she had to have documents to prove it.”

The family journal instantly came to Lily’s mind. “When is your paper due?”

“The last day before spring break,” Holly said. “But I don’t have any interesting people in my family, so what am I going to do?”

“I’ve got an idea. We’ll talk about it tonight after supper,” Lily told her.

“All right.” Holly shrugged. “I’m going to have cookies and milk. I didn’t like the cafeteria food today, so I only ate the dessert. What’s for supper?”

“Potato chowder and hot rolls. Got homework?” Lily followed her.

“Nope,” Holly answered. “But the sooner I can get on the history assignment, the better. I hate waiting until the last minute to do my projects.”

Mack went to his room, changed into faded work jeans and an old T-shirt, and was on his way across the foyer to the kitchen when someone rapped on the door. He started that way, but Adam pushed inside without waiting.

Like always, he was dressed in a suit, tie, and loafers. Other than a few crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes, he didn’t look a lot different than he did in high school. One twin is good-looking; one is plain. One twin doesn’t age; the other one looks every bit of his forty-one years, Mack thought. But if the truth were told, Mack would bet dollars to goat droppings that he was more comfortable in his own skin.