setting."
With that she turned and disappeared inside the house Forcing his attention back to Sarah, Matthew carefully studied the drawings she had been working on, amused at the images Sarah picked out of the jumbled mass of lines and squiggles.
"Careful, Daddy, don't tear the paper."
"I'll be careful.” An old quilt had been spread out on the porch and he followed her when she plopped back down. “When did you learn to draw?"
"Livvy showed me,” she explained, returning her attention to her artwork.
He gave her a gentle pat on the back, struck by the pride and affection in her voice.
Livvy.
* * * *
Somehow Olivia had survived dinner seated across from Matthew, painfully aware of his eyes on her and wondering if he questioned her motives for caring for the child.
Tonight Sarah had not cried to go home with him, but she pleaded with her father not to leave.
"I can't stay here,” he tried to explain. “I have to take care of the animals and work in the field."
The explanation mollified her enough to prompt a good-night kiss without further protest.
Olivia helped her into the lacy nightgown that fell to her feet and brushed her hair. Once Sarah was settled in the tiny trundle bed beside her own, Olivia readied herself for bed but doubted she would sleep a wink that night.
She lay in the darkness, listening to the rain pattering against the windowpane, and found herself thinking of all the plans she'd made, waiting for Matthew's return. She begged him not to speak to her father, knowing the man would find some way to ruin everything, until the war was over and they could marry right away. After all, they were going to whip the Yankees in six weeks, and that wasn't such a long time to wait.
Pushing the painful memories aside, Olivia drew the sheet up to her chin and thought of all she had to do the next day. Finding a nurse would be difficult, especially without having everyone in the county know what she was about.
The arrangement wouldn't be permanent, and finding an older, experienced woman willing to uproot herself without a guarantee of longtime employment would be difficult. There was no other choice but to seek an older, mature woman if she was to live in Matthew's house for any length of time. A younger woman might get ideas about making the situation permanent, one way or another.
Indeed, Matthew was still considered quite the catch by postwar standards. He still had land and a home, and any scars he carried from the war were not visible. Many men had returned home to find their wives and sweethearts unable to accept the ghastly results of cannon fire and shrapnel.
Lightning flashed in the night sky and thunder boomed loud enough to rattle the windowpanes. Olivia turned away from the window and tried to go to sleep.
"Livvy?” Sarah's tiny voice came out of the darkness.
"Yes?"
"Can I sleep with you?"
She understood the little girls qualms only too well, and she threw back the covers and helped the child climb into her bed.
Sarah snuggled close and Olivia awkwardly gathered the little girl in her arms. “When I was a little girl I was so afraid of thunderstorms."
"Real ‘fraid?” Sarah asked in a hesitant whisper.
"Terrified. Sometimes I would hide under the bed.” Another clap of thunder rumbled, nearer than the last, and Sarah huddled closer to Olivia. “But we don't have to be afraid tonight."
"We don't?"
"No, we don't,” Olivia assured her. “You see, I learned that the thunder and lightning couldn't really hurt me as long as I was inside."
They lay silent for many moments, listening as the storm gained momentum and the rain pounded furiously at the window.
"Livvy?” Sarah whispered. “Did you have a mama?"
The question startled her, and she swallowed hard before answering, “Yes, I did."
"Did she go to heaven?"
"When I was twelve years old."
"My mama went to heaven,” Sarah told her, as if it was some terrible secret. “She won't ever come back."
"People can't come
With that she turned and disappeared inside the house Forcing his attention back to Sarah, Matthew carefully studied the drawings she had been working on, amused at the images Sarah picked out of the jumbled mass of lines and squiggles.
"Careful, Daddy, don't tear the paper."
"I'll be careful.” An old quilt had been spread out on the porch and he followed her when she plopped back down. “When did you learn to draw?"
"Livvy showed me,” she explained, returning her attention to her artwork.
He gave her a gentle pat on the back, struck by the pride and affection in her voice.
Livvy.
* * * *
Somehow Olivia had survived dinner seated across from Matthew, painfully aware of his eyes on her and wondering if he questioned her motives for caring for the child.
Tonight Sarah had not cried to go home with him, but she pleaded with her father not to leave.
"I can't stay here,” he tried to explain. “I have to take care of the animals and work in the field."
The explanation mollified her enough to prompt a good-night kiss without further protest.
Olivia helped her into the lacy nightgown that fell to her feet and brushed her hair. Once Sarah was settled in the tiny trundle bed beside her own, Olivia readied herself for bed but doubted she would sleep a wink that night.
She lay in the darkness, listening to the rain pattering against the windowpane, and found herself thinking of all the plans she'd made, waiting for Matthew's return. She begged him not to speak to her father, knowing the man would find some way to ruin everything, until the war was over and they could marry right away. After all, they were going to whip the Yankees in six weeks, and that wasn't such a long time to wait.
Pushing the painful memories aside, Olivia drew the sheet up to her chin and thought of all she had to do the next day. Finding a nurse would be difficult, especially without having everyone in the county know what she was about.
The arrangement wouldn't be permanent, and finding an older, experienced woman willing to uproot herself without a guarantee of longtime employment would be difficult. There was no other choice but to seek an older, mature woman if she was to live in Matthew's house for any length of time. A younger woman might get ideas about making the situation permanent, one way or another.
Indeed, Matthew was still considered quite the catch by postwar standards. He still had land and a home, and any scars he carried from the war were not visible. Many men had returned home to find their wives and sweethearts unable to accept the ghastly results of cannon fire and shrapnel.
Lightning flashed in the night sky and thunder boomed loud enough to rattle the windowpanes. Olivia turned away from the window and tried to go to sleep.
"Livvy?” Sarah's tiny voice came out of the darkness.
"Yes?"
"Can I sleep with you?"
She understood the little girls qualms only too well, and she threw back the covers and helped the child climb into her bed.
Sarah snuggled close and Olivia awkwardly gathered the little girl in her arms. “When I was a little girl I was so afraid of thunderstorms."
"Real ‘fraid?” Sarah asked in a hesitant whisper.
"Terrified. Sometimes I would hide under the bed.” Another clap of thunder rumbled, nearer than the last, and Sarah huddled closer to Olivia. “But we don't have to be afraid tonight."
"We don't?"
"No, we don't,” Olivia assured her. “You see, I learned that the thunder and lightning couldn't really hurt me as long as I was inside."
They lay silent for many moments, listening as the storm gained momentum and the rain pounded furiously at the window.
"Livvy?” Sarah whispered. “Did you have a mama?"
The question startled her, and she swallowed hard before answering, “Yes, I did."
"Did she go to heaven?"
"When I was twelve years old."
"My mama went to heaven,” Sarah told her, as if it was some terrible secret. “She won't ever come back."
"People can't come
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