“Yeah, but he’s so pretty.” Sally fanned herself with her hand.

“I had a pretty man, and look where it got me,” Lily said. “I don’t know that I could ever trust another of that kind.”

“Me, either, darlin’,” Sally said, “but I believe that Mack is really trustworthy.”

“Then why haven’t you asked him out?” Lily asked.

“No sparks,” Sally said. “If I can’t have electricity and chemistry, I’ll stay single. I had the ho-hum marriage, and it just didn’t work for me.”

Looking back, Lily could say that her marriage hadn’t been ho-hum, at least not at first, but in all honesty, she had to admit that the romance had died several years before Wyatt said he’d found another woman.

Lily could hardly wait that evening to get up to her room and dive into the journal again. The pages were so old that they felt as if they could crumble in her hands, so she turned them carefully. The ink had faded in some places more than others, and she had to get the bedside lampshade adjusted just right to see the words clearly.

Matilda Smith Bedford, June 1870

Lily glanced back over the last pages she’d read and realized that she’d turned two pages at once. She read those before she went on to what Matilda had written.

This entry was dated May 1, 1865:

This is my first time to write in this journal. I feel like I should continue Mama’s path, but there’s so much to write that I don’t quite know where to begin. I found this journal among Mama’s possessions, and it broke my heart to read what she’d written, but I was glad to know those things since she didn’t talk about the past. My stepfather, Everett, and my mama, Ophelia, died last month. I felt like life had given me a second chance when Mama married Everett, and we finally got to move away from Uncle Walter. That was the most miserable year of my entire life. I felt so sorry for Mama, working her fingers to the bone sewing every day, and then having to give her money to Walter. Everett was a good, kind man who loved my mother, and she had good years with him before they passed from the fever. I got the news by telegram, and Henry and I traveled to Georgia with my two young children to take care of their affairs. I wept for days because Mama had never gotten to lay eyes on her grandchildren, and Jenny, with her pale blue eyes and dark hair, looks so much like her.

Lily’s first tear fell on the page and blurred the ink on the last word. She grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped her wet cheeks as she mourned for Ophelia, who had died before she met her grandchildren. Lily regretted not bringing the kids to see their grandparents more often than she did. They only lived a couple of hours away, but somehow every weekend had been filled with events. Those were excuses, not reasons, especially in the summertime, she reminded herself as she went on reading.

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.