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Jolene saw him in town with Donna Glick on his arm, a girl who’d been trying to outdo Jolene since they’d attended school together.
    It had crushed her all over again. When she had healed enough that she could take full breaths, her hurt turned to anger, and she wrestled with herself until she found peace with losing Van and watching him fall in love, marry, and welcome children. Or maybe she’d just found resignation. She only knew that what bothered her wasn’t so much that he’d left her and married someone else but howhe’d done it. That used to keep her up at night, but she had finally submitted to it and decided it was best to refuse to think about it. But the
how
had ruined every bit of friendship that could’ve been salvaged.
    Was anything on this earth more ugly or difficult to bear than true love turning into bitter disillusion?
    She studied the old clapboard house where she’d been born. Across the yards—the front, sides, and back—were six dogwood trees, one for each of Benny and Rosanna Keim’s children. Jolene had carefully nurtured each from a cutting of the original tree her Daed had given to her Mamm as a wedding gift. The original tree had died within a year of her parents’ passing.
    Thanks to Lester Fisher lowering the rent in exchange for Naomi and her cleaning his home, doing laundry, and cooking a few meals each week, they’d been able to stay in this house. At first Lester was gruff and difficult, but as time passed, they became good friends, and he’d made some really generous offers to help her and her family. As they grew closer, she began to confide in him. When she told him about her desire to paint and about the last gift her Daed had given her, Lester did something she never would have imagined possible. He gave her a way to free a piece of her soul. Although they didn’t live in the same church district, they did have the same bishop, and despite artwork being against the bishop’s edicts, Lester set up an art studio for her in his attic. At times that haven had seemed essential for her sanity. He’d put a padlock on the door to his attic, and he’d installed a warning bell that rang in the attic so that if she was up there painting when a visitor came by, she had time to scurry from the attic before anyone entered the house. It was a good system,because all these years later no one else knew their secret. This exacting, difficult man had a soft spot for her.
    She studied the house again. She’d been painting it when time allowed, but for the most part that only made it look worse—new rows of paint against weathered, peeling rows for months at a time. The home sat within easy walking distance of downtown Maple Shade, a small, now-thriving historic town at the heart of Winter Valley that had a clinic and a doctor. Wouldn’t her Mamm have loved to live long enough to see that?
    In addition to the pleasure of the Mother’s Day celebration, Jolene had much to be grateful for. One of the biggest blessings was that whenever challenges had arisen—lack, frustrations, arguments, and everything else—she and her siblings had faced them together. Of her five little chicks, as they called themselves, only two remained in the nest—eighteen-year-old Ray and fourteen-year-old Hope.
    Josiah, now twenty-six, Michael, now twenty-four, and Naomi, now twenty-two, were married. Michael had married last fall, and Naomi had married five months ago in December. Both had moved out, but they hadn’t gone far. Jolene still found it surprising how quiet the house seemed after two siblings moved out mere months apart.
    How different would her life look in another decade? She was twenty-nine now, only ten years younger than her mama was when she died.
    “Jolene?” The familiar voice washed over her, and she turned to see her oldest brother riding bareback toward her. What was he doing here this time of day on a Monday? He held up an index card. “Ruth wrote out the recipe last night for the