© Copyright 2002 by Elizabeth Delayne: the first installment of the Lawton Springs Trilogy! See The Light of the Moon for the next installment.

The town of Lawton Springs sat on a hill. Down the hill, the river Okalloe flowed bringing fresh fish and irrigation to the surrounding farms.

Joannie Finch stood at the window of the Wallace Boarding house and watched the rainfall. She could not see the river, but she knew it was there. If you walked out about 10 yards and looked down the hill you could see it.

Was it flowing faster as the men at the noon meal had said? Was it really over flowing it’s banks … banks that until now had seemed very low?

She turned around and looked at the kitchen, clean from her labor, ready for her to prepare dinner. She cleaned and cooked for people she knew so little about, in a boarding house owned by other people. The Wallace sisters, two unmarried women who owned the place, gave her little time off.

Not long ago she had envisioned herself married, a helpmate to her mother-in-law, living in a small house near to the one she had spent five years of her life living in. She had desired to pay back the family who had given so much.

Now things had changed. Father, God…what do you want of me?

The familiar call of “woe” and the sound of a strong horse’s whine brought a smile to Joannie’s lips. She hurried and opened the door.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she said as her friend Beth Reid hastened up the porch steps, her coat lifted over her head blocking the rain as she struggled with her skirts. Her brother Joseph sat in the surrey, his brimmed hat casting a shadow over his eyes. Rain poured around him.

He was a tall man, strong because he worked hard with his farm and with his horses. He was at every barn raising and leant a hand when others needed it in their fields. Under the shadow of his hat were dark, intelligent eyes. He read books, lots of them.

I would have made you a good wife, her eyes pleaded with him. He didn't acknoledge her.

She looked up at the sky and fought against the urge to cry as he clucked the horses to move on down the street. The sky was dark with rain clouds. Raindrops splashed into puddles—much like the tears of her heart splashed into the pools of dreams that were slowly flowing away.

“Joseph wanted to come in to a town meeting. He said I needed to get out of the house today,” Beth said as Joannie shut the door and turned around to look at her friend. “He wasn’t sure that I would be able to make it later in the week.”

“Was the path that bad?” Joannie asked, casting a weary glance out the window.

“The bridge. The river’s risen to high for the horses to simply plod across. He doesn’t know how long the bridge will hold up.”

Her blond hair, usually pulled back into a neat twist, had loosened and tresses were wet against her face. Beth tugged off her coat, a coat that had at one time been her father's.

"We stopped by to see Cara and Ben on the way in. Their horse spooked on Sunday, landed on Ben's foot--that's why they weren't at church. They had their own services at home."

Joannie rolled her eyes and smiled, dispite the hurt she was feeling. "Living with Cara, one wouldn't doubt it would be one large fiasco."

"I think it's beautiful that they found each other. They were both so sad when Cara's brother died. I don't know what I would do if something happened to any of my brothers. Especially Joseph."

Joseph was the oldest Reid. He worked and lived in the farm his father had first built just under two decades ago. Beth was three years his junior, more than a year older than Joannie, and helped raise their three younger siblings. Their mother, Margaret Reid had passed away three months ago.

It left a hole in Joannie’s heart. She had lived with the Reid's for over five years; a friend to Beth and an extra hand with the children. Mrs. Reid had taken Joannie in when her family, her mother and father and her two brothers had fallen ill to influenza.

When Mrs. Reid died the elders of the church had strongly suggested that it was wrong for an unmarried woman such as Joannie to stay in a house with an unmarried man like Joseph.

If she hadn’t of loved him anyway, if she hadn’t of cared, it would not of hurt so much when he helped her pack her things in the surrey and move into town. He'd said very little. He made no promises, offered her no hope.

“If I had known you were going to brood when I came over, I would have stayed home and missed getting drenched.”

“What?” Joannie asked and focused on her friend. Then she blushed. “Sorry.”

“He’ll come around, Joannie,” Beth said, putting a hand to Joannie’s arm. “Joseph’s never been the type to express his feelings. He’s slow and he plods along and you could take brooding lessons from him. He can’t tell you he loves you because he rarely says more than one word at a time—and I love you takes three.”

He had not been as silent as he was now, Joannie remembered. Before his father’s death, ten years ago now, Joannie had been the quiet one compared to him. Maybe Beth was right, he had never been one to share his feelings, but he talked when something was important to him, and his schooling had been very important. Since his mother’s death, he’d seemed to become more reserved, quieter then ever before.

Maybe it was just because he would look at her before, and his looks would speak for him.

Joannie took Beth’s coat and laid it over the bench. She thought of Sunday, when she had been able to go to church for the first time in weeks. The Wallace sisters rarely gave her the time off. He had not spoken to her, acknowledged her in the least.

“He was talking to Leah Parker after Sunday services.”

Beth laughed. “He was nodding. Leah Parker isn’t quiet enough to let someone else get another word in. He has been brooding since you left.”

“Does he do anything but that?”

“You wouldn’t love him if he didn’t,” Beth said. “Be patient.”



Beth kneaded the dough for the next night’s bread as Joannie sliced the vegetables for the night’s stew. In the first weeks of moving to the boarding house, Joannie had argued with her friend coming to help, but soon her need for friendship outweighed the guilt. She did not have a day to herself, unless the boarding house was running few patrons … and even then, only if it had been cleaned from the third floor rooms to the first floor lobby, kitchen and dining room. That included Sundays.

Her only other option was marriage and since Joseph had not asked, her only option was Sam Mueller, with his five kids and his Saturday night drinking. He came by regularly on Wednesday mornings to call on her for a few minutes.

Things were not so bad at the boarding house. She had a small room to the back, without a window, large enough for a child-size bed. Despite the size, it was the first time she had ever had a room of her own. Only two rooms made up her parents house—the living area with kitchen and her mother and father’s bedroom. With the Reid’s, she had shared a bed and room with Beth.

She really missed talking to Beth late at night, whispering so that they wouldn't wake Mary.

“Did you know Pastor Bryan would be over?” Joannie asked given that is was the first time she had been able to talk to her friend since he had visited on Saturday.

“I hoped he would. When he asked about you were the Sunday before last, I voiced my concern that you were expected to do your chores,” Beth said. “I think he noted that the Wallace sisters attended services. Do you know what he said?”

Joannie nodded careful with the knife as she sliced the potatoes. “He asked for me to come into the room for the prayer and he gently reminded the sisters that it was their responsibility to watch after my church attendance as I was living in their home.”

Beth giggled. “Good Pastor Bryan. He always knows what to say.”

Joannie dumped the vegetables into the pot and wiped her hands. She looked out the window, to the gray clouds and the continual shower, “I feel like it’s been raining inside me for months. His sermon on Sunday helped. To say that Noah had lost so much—how alone must have felt—maybe relief, as he said, but maybe loneliness. There is comfort when things are the same and for Noah nothing was the same.”

“I have a feeling we will be hearing another sermon on Noah for a third week if Pastor Bryan can’t find some other place of inspiration,” Beth said, nodding toward the window.

Joannie chuckled. “I wonder how long your brother will be. The men that are staying here went to the town meeting as well, and most of them are visitors.”

“It’s there lives as well as ours.”

“How about your home?”

“Joseph worries about the crops, but our home on the top of a slow incline,” Beth said, lifting the dough into the bowl. “He pointed it out to me on the way over today. It’s why you can see the house for miles. The water is streaming down hill from where we live.”

“We have prayed so long for rain. I don’t want to pray for it to stop if we will not have it again for as long of time.”

The sound of Joseph’s horse and his call drew both pairs of eyes to the door.

“Joseph’s early,” Beth murmured, reaching for a towel to wipe off her hands.

The door opened and Joseph stepped in, his hand remaining on the door, water dripping from his coat and hat, “Beth, we need to leave now.”

“Why?”

“The river is picking up speed. Word came by the telegraph that they have flooding in Newport City north of here.”

“Flooding?” Beth glanced at Joannie.

“Now Beth—we don’t have much time. We need to be there for Jacob, Mary and Zach.”

At the mention of her younger siblings, Beth moved. Joannie stood there and watched. She was suddenly cold. She looked at Joseph, needing his assurance.

If it’s dangerous, won’t you take me with you?

He finally looked at her as Beth slipped on her coat. His eyes sharpened and he frowned, “You’ll be fine, Joannie. The river won’t reach this house.”

She nodded and glanced away from his eyes, feeling enormously sad as if rain was falling over her heart. At his feet was a puddle of water, created by the drips from his clothes.

He ran a toe through the water, “Sorry. Joannie--”

She looked back at him, waited. He only swallowed and shook his head. "Don't worry. You'll be fine."

Beth hugged her goodbye and they promised to pray for each other. Joseph nearly pulled Beth out the door. It closed behind them, leaving Joannie alone in the silence.

She got down on her knees and moped up the puddle Joseph had left behind, blinking back the tears she wanted to shed.



“Dinner was superb, Miss. Finch,” John Hawkins said as she came from the kitchen a loaded trey for the Wallace sister’s mother. His blond hair nearly hid the Indian roots he brought through his mother. His eyes were brown, his skin a dark tan. “I don’t think I’ve had such wonderful stew in a long time.”

Joannie nodded her thanks, reassured because he seemed calm, despite the rumors and fears and panic voiced around the table. He was clean-cut at times, rough and ready for a tumble in buckskins at other, but always handsome. He was a favorite of the Wallace sisters anytime he came through town. It seemed fromt things people said about him that he did business with the bank, the sheriff, the U.S. military and the Indians, spending a good part of his time while in town at the saloon and never entering the church.

“I didn’t realize you had come into town.”

“You shouldn’t be surprised. Lawton Springs is the highest point of any place in this territory.”

“You’re not afraid then?”

“Why spend time worrying?” he said with a shrug to his shoulders. “I know that you pray to God—what else could be done?”

He was laughing at her, but she expected no less. “You could pray, too, Mr. Hawkins.”

“No, that’s for you.”

Joannie nodded and shifted the trey in her arms. “I’m grad you enjoyed the stew, Mr. Hawkins.”

They had talked of religion, among other things, on the few times he had been in the parlor when she had gone in to dust. Normally he used it to prod at her, but never to make fun of her. She was never quite sure if he was asking to learn more or if he just needed to talk.

When she reached the third floor she walked to the back of the hallway and pushed open the last door. “Mrs. Wallace?” she whispered, “I have your dinner if you’re ready.”

“You don’t have to whisper child, I am awake,” the old woman’s voice answered, raspy with old age. “Light me a lamp to I can see you better.”

Joannie laughed. She always thought of the Little Red Riding Hood fable that she had read in school when Mrs. Wallace spoke to her like that.

“Are you warm enough?” Joannie asked, sitting the trey down on the edge of the bed and reaching for the nearby lamp. She worked with the wick, longer then usual in the damp air, until the flame brightened and she covered it with the glass casing.

“Blasted rain keeps falling. It aches my bones.”

Joannie smiled and helped the old woman into a sitting position, putting pillows at her back. As Mrs. Wallace spooned the stew, Joannie worked to straighten the bed covers around her. “Would you like another blanket?”

“Only if you want me to roast to death in this oven.”

“Who would I have to fuss at me if I did that?”

“I think my two daughters would do enough of that without me. Stew’s much better since you came to live here.”

“Thank you,” Joannie said and sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Mrs. Wallace eat. She was still feisty enough to want to feed herself, though it pained her, and her hand shook each time she lifted the spoon to her mouth. She was a grumpy woman, unpleasant most of the time, but never mean and hateful. She lived with her daughters only because they gave her a place to stay and left her alone. The sisters had little to do with their mother, and less kind words to say.

She would talk of the Lawton Springs as she remembered it best, in it's infancy. Her husband had opened the first mercantile, then a hotel. Other times she talked to Joannie about Joannie. It helped to have a confidence.

“Saw that boy of yours come visitin’ today. You didn’t keep him around long. Brought his sister with him to yammer at you.”

“Joseph didn’t come to see me,” Joannie explained.

“He’d spend more time if you would cook a meal for him. Fatten him up. It’ll keep him around. Those young hussies I gave birth to wouldn’t miss the food. They’re to busy flitting around,”

“Maybe next time.”

“He’ll be good to you. He’s got strong hands, strong eyes. Not like my husband.”

“But you miss him,” Joannie said softly, knowing that she could get the woman to talk if she prodded her enough. She had loved her husband, and had lost him early.

“You get used to havin’ them around. Then they’re gone too quickly.”



Dreams chased Joannie as she slept. She was running from the boarders who shouted words of destruction. She was wet and cold. She saw the church lift up off the ground and float away. She saw Noah and his ark and all the animals panicking as she was, and jumping from the safety.

She awoke as she was thrust to the ground. She landed with a thump and she rolled, disoriented, splashing in a puddle of water.

She hit the wall and held her hands out to keep the bed in place—off balance and uncertain as to why she would feel as if the house was tilting, why she was in water. It was dark, still night, the moonlight covered by the clouds. She heard the creaking of wood and the crack of timbers breaking.

Someone screamed and she recognized it as her own voice. It was then she heard the cries of alarm from upstairs and outside.

It felt as if the room was moving. She held her breath, her hands braced to the wall. She closed her eyes and prayed.

“God, keep me safe and Beth and Joseph, Mike and Sarah … help--” she cried, as the house jerked again. She felt the sharp pain to her head and she couldn’t stop things from going black.



Joannie could still hear voices when she came to. She didn’t think she had been out for long. The house was still again—tilted slightly, but no longer moving.

She stood, her night gown dripping, inches of water at her feet. Her knees were shaking as she reached to the hook for her dress. It didn’t take long to change from her gown, but her shoes were harder to lace because she was trembling.

She exited her room, following the sound of voices and shrieks, feeling her way through the house by the walls. The water at her feet soaked through her shoes. She heard Mr. Hawkins and moved to the porch.

There were lanterns glowing and men working frantically at the top of the hill where the boarding house had been. How close were they to the river?

She looked around, saw the youngest of the Wallace sisters grab onto a rope that circled her waist. One of the boarders went with her, holding on to her and the rope as someone high on the hill pulled her up. Three other men waited on the porch.

Mr. Hawkins turned and she noted the mud splattered on his hastily donned clothes. He seemed relieved when he spotted her, “Joannie—you’re all right?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“Mudslide,” he looked up the hill. “No one thought—the houses weren’t right at the hill.”

Joannie swallowed against the tight ball in her throat. “Mrs. Wallace?”

“The sisters? They are both up the hill now.”

“No—not the sisters, their mother.”

His brow creased and he glanced up the hill toward where the Wallace sisters were now safe, “I wasn’t aware they had a mother—Joannie! Where are you going?”

“She can’t make it down the stairs on her own,” Joannie called out, already at the stairs, pulling herself up using the banister. The house was sloping. Water was coming in through the large gapes now in between the boards. She could hear the river now. It was rushing in.

Her hands were wet and she couldn’t grab on. She cried out as her foot slipped and she nearly tumbled back down the stairs.

“God please, help me.”

At each step she prayed, her heart quaking, her legs shaking. Finally she reached the third floor and she could hear Mrs. Wallace crying out for help.

The house tilted. She tumbled against the wall. She screamed.

“Joannie!” she heard Mr. Hawkins voice, then felt his hands at her waist, pulling her up, helping her to stand. “Get downstairs, Joannie. I’ll get the woman. Where is she?”

Joannie felt the wall against the palms of her hands. The house was trembling. “The end of the hall, on the left.”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm to knot of fear in her stomach. She was going to be sick. How many times had she cried because she kept loosing things; her parents, Mrs. Reid, each home she had come to know.

She had wanted so many things … now even this home was passing away.

God, what are you asking of me?

Trust me.

“What?” she cried out, having heard the words as if they were spoken to her.

“Go, Joannie,” Hawkins cried, suddenly back with Mrs. Wallace drapped over his back. She could hear the elderly woman’s shouts of panic. Joannie cast worried eyes on her, frozen in place. Hawkins put an hand to her arm. “Now!”

Joannie turned and had to fight against the tug of gravity that wanted to fling her down the stairs. The house was still shifting. It groaned under the pressure.

They made it down, but it took precious time. Their speed had slowed as they lowered to their bottoms and scooted down, holding onto the rails. Mrs. Wallace cried out in fear.

Finally, they made it to the porch. It was pouring again. It was harder to make out the shapes on the hill. “Go—“ Hawk said again.

Trust me.

There were the words again. When she felt her world falling apart, she felt the peace of Christ surround her. With more courage than she had ever imagined, she shook her head.

“Mrs. Wallace first!” she shouted over the rain. The old woman was quivering. “She’s too old and already to wet. You’ll have to hold onto her. Get her some place warm”

“Joannie--” Mrs. Wallace was standing by Hawkins now, holding onto him with weak arms. There were tears in the woman’s eyes. Her gown was drenched in water. She looked older, smaller, weaker than Joannie had ever seen her.

“Go on—I’ll make it,” she grabbed onto the porch post and held on as the house shifted. Someone called her name from up above, and she looked up, unable to make out the faces through the rain.

When the rope flew down, weighted with a horseshoe, Joannie watched Hawkins grab it. He looked at her and she nodded, swallowed and fought to be brave. He wrapped himself in it and secured Mrs. Wallace. “Hold onto the house. We’ve already lost several who tried to climb up. He fell into the river—it’s moving to fast, the slope too slick. You won’t make it, going that way.”

He looked her over one last time. “I’ll come back down for you myself. You pray—you promise me you’ll pray,” he tugged on the rope signaling that he was ready.

Joannie prayed as she wiped at her eyes and tried to watch Hawkins move up the hill. Her breath caught as the house shifted, and she prayed, afraid and alone. She felt the house jerk, heard the crash and grabbed onto the post with both arms, holding. She felt the house began to slide as the boards groaned.

She held on, her eyes closed. “God, please--”

She felt the water at her feet and herself sliding. The post gave way and she slid in. The water was like ice; it’s strength knocked her feet from under her. She screamed again as she tumbled in.

A hand grabbed at her, caught her hand, and pulled at her, keeping her head above water.

“Hold onto me.”

It was Joseph. She looked up through the rain and tried to focus on his eyes. It was hard to see, but there in the shadows she could make them out, strong, determined and fighting fear. His hand was strong, his body braced.

“Joannie, hold on,” he said again. She managed to turn her hand and clasp his wrist. He pulled her until she was in his arms, fighting not to slide with the mud. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his chest. “Joseph--”

“I’ve got you,” he said, before whispering what sounded like a soft prayer as his lips pressed to the crown of her head. He pulled the rope, signaling that he had her. They worked together to begin the difficult accent.

“A step at a time,” he ordered, taking the steps first and leaving her places for her to put her smaller feet. “Careful.”

“Cold.” She didn’t even recognize her own voice, or feel her lips move.

“Don’t look,” he commanded when she heard the house finally crash. “Focus on where we’re going. We’ll get you something warm. Something hot to drink to help you warm up.”



“You’re a heroine, Miss. Finch,” Pastor Bryan’s wife said as she tucked Joannie into bed. She felt knumb and extremely tired, but slowly thawing out thanks to the soup and coffee the Pastor’s wife had provided. “Mrs. Wallace could not stop going on and on about you.”

“How is she?”

“As ornery as she ever was,” Mrs. Bryan sat down on the bed beside her and held her hand, rubbing it between her own. Mrs. Bryan’s hand seemed so warm. She still felt the house trembling beneath her feet.

“Beth?”

“I believe Joseph took her home before coming back into town.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did he come back into town?”

Mrs. Bryan smiled. “Because he wanted to make sure you were safe. He came by here and paced our floor, saying nothing more then what was asked of him, but it was clear he could never be that far from you with so much uncertainty in the area. You are very special to him. I hope you realize that.”

“He doesn’t think of me that way.”

“Well, maybe not, but that would be up to him to decide,” Mrs. Bryan said and smoothed Joannie's hair with a gentle hand. “Have I answered all your questions?”

Joannie shook her head, “Mr. Hawkins? He’s doing well?”

“He sprained his wrist. The doctor is looking at him now.”

Joannie smiled, “Mr. Hawkins has never been around a preacher before. He says he doesn’t like them to much.”

“We’ll he’s around one now, and he won’t get away without talking to this one.”

Mrs. Bryan smiled and leaned down to kiss Joannie’s brow. “I have a feeling you’ll have someone who wants to see you in the morning. Sleep well, child. You deserve good dreams.”



When Joannie awoke the next morning, after a night of dreams, she longed to see Joseph. “Was Mrs. Bryan right, God? Am I very special to Joseph?”

She remembered the way he had looked at her when his hand clasped hers and he drew her from the water. There was such strength inside of him—such strong emotion. Could her dreams really come true?

Or was she just putting hope in something else as temporary as the houses she’d lived in? All she knew now was that in the midst of the fear, and her world literally crashing down around her, God had been with her. She’d felt the peace. He’d kept her safe.

He’d kept Joseph safe.

“Ah, your awake,” Mrs. Bryan said as she came into the room. “I thought you might sleep clear until the afternoon. How do you feel?” she asked, putting a hand to Joannie’s forehead, seeking to find a fever.

“Sore,” she said as she shifted in the bed. “Numb … I really need to relieve myself.”

“We’ll take care of that and get you dressed. You would like some lunch?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good, and you have a visitor. So we need to hurry.”



Joseph looked up as Joannie came into the room wearing borrowed clothing that she had to lift from the floor. He stood, his hat in his hands. He swallowed, “Joannie,” he said, then fell silent.

She ran to him, unable to do anything else. She threw her arms around him. For whatever reason, he had saved her, risking his own life. And maybe, just maybe, she was very special to him. His arms came around her.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m alive,” she said, telling herself she should not bury into him even as she did. His arms were warm and secure. You’re here, she wanted to say.

“I stopped by and saw Mrs. Wallace,” he said after a long moment of peace, stepping away, but keeping his hands on her arms. “She wanted to say thanks. She says she has a gift to give you. Hawk will take care of it.”

“Hawk?” Joannie repeated, shaking her head. “Oh, you mean, Mr. Hawkins. He’s alright then?”

“Just a bit soar. Glad to know you made it out,” Joseph shook his head. “Why’d you have to go an make yourself a hero? You took ten years off my life.”

“Everything happened so fast. I don’t even remember it all, but if I had gone first, and the house collapsed with both of them on it…. I don’t know if he, if Mr. Hawkins … well, everything came out fine,” Joannie said gently, and saw the ray of sunshine coming through the windows. “It’s stopped raining.”

Joseph turned and looked for himself. He smiled, “Yes it did. About the time Mrs. Bryan came out and said you were asleep.”

“Can we talk outside? I have a need to see the sunshine.”

“The sunshine,” Joseph repeated, his brow worried, then he nodded, “It’s not like it’s cold out there. It’s hot and steamy.”

“But it’s not raining,” Joannie said. She needed to see the sunshine. Her heart needed to dry out it’s tears.

He led her out to the porch and watched her take a deep breath. He ran a hand over her hair, “I was afraid I would never see that smile again.”

Joannie turned and looked at him, and tried to see what she had seen in him last night. Instead all she saw was the brooding Joseph she was used to.

“You left me and took Beth to safety. I would have gone if you had told me to go. I would have found a place to stay,” she turned and tried to find joy from the sunshine. She remembered the clutching fear from the night and she did not want to be afraid anymore. The boarding house was gone and she was out of prospects. If all she had left was to marry Sam Mueller, then she knew the town elders would force her into that position.

Joseph paced the porch as Joannie fought tears. He stopped on the other side of the other post and braced himself on the railing.

“If I would have known that the mud would turn so slick, that the buildings so far from the hill would ... I would have taken you out with Beth. Forget the town elders.”

She looked over at him, surprised at the roughness of his voice.

“When Hawk reached the top and you weren’t with him—then as I was coming for you and the house collapsed. I couldn’t see you—find you. I was afraid … and then you were there and …”

He took a deep breath, struggling with the words. In his eyes was the open look she had seen last night; enduring and strong, like fire. “I love you, Joannie Finch.”

Joannie trembled and looked at him, wanting to remember this very moment. There he was, her strong, silent man that she loved very much. “I need you to be sure, Joseph Reid, and not turn back into the silent brooding man you’ve been for the last few months.”

“I’m sure,” he said and crossed the porch to stand before her. His eyes implored her, seeking her answer. “I don’t always have the words to say what I’m feeling. Books are easy, words you have to express … I don’t know how to tell you what I feel always, even now, but I promise to try. You’re the most beautiful thing I have in my life. You’re joy, your laughter … it’s such a gift.”

“One you didn’t want?”

“One I didn’t know how to take for my own.”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she threw her arms around him. She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. “I love you,” she said as her voice cracked. “I really love you.”

And his kissed her, his mouth strong and sure, and anchor for her wondering heart. The sunshine radiated on her face, as strong as his love. And the tears in her heart slowly began to seep into the past.

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