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gift, the last tangible reminder of our love.
    My cheeks flamed, then my heart swam in my stomach. Losing Davy with four children to raise had been bad enough. But another child on the way? How would she manage alone?
    Dread settled on my shoulders. My throat tightened.
    Please, Lula, can’t you come and stay?
    A vise squeezed my heart. I wanted to oblige. I did. But if I went—if I quit school—I’d forfeit too much. My scholarship. My education. My employment. Daddy’s hope that one of his children would get a PhD. If I left here, I’d be Fruity Lu once again, giving up before I reached the end, getting distracted by other things. Couldn’t Jewel of all people see that?
    I blew out a hard breath, but it didn’t relieve the pinch in my chest. I’d have to find a way to send Jewel money. My brothers and sisters might still think me a child, but I’d been taking care of myself for years. I could sacrifice my own comfort for Jewel and her children.
    I rose, determined to stow the letter in my trunk upstairs and get on with finding a new, cheaper place to live.
    â€œEverything all right?” Mrs. McInnish opened the front door to let in the evening air.
    â€œYes, Mrs. McInnish. Just fine.”
    â€œYour sister, then? She’s well?” Concern laced the words, threatening to break my resolve.
    â€œFine. However, I—” If I said the words out loud, committed myself to my plan, then the roiling guilt inside would calm, right? “I’ll be looking for a new place to live. Less expensive, so I can help my sister’s family.”
    Her eyes saddened. “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Bowman. You’re a good boarder. You’ll have any reference you need from me. But are you certain . . .”
    I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m certain. My sister has four children to support.” I sat hard on the sofa. Five, now.
    Mrs. McInnish plopped down beside me. “What’s the matter, dear?”
    â€œShe’s—she’s going to have another baby. In March. She . . . she needs—”
    Mrs. McInnish’s hand closed around mine. “She’s going to need more than money, I fear. She’ll need someone to stay with her.”
    Her words haunted me through the commotion of supper and in the quiet of my bedroom. I paced the narrow space beside my iron bedstead, Jewel’s letter crumpled in my hand. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t. If I did, I’d remain Fruity Lu for the rest of my days. The child who nearly caught the house on fire after leaving a lamp burning in the kitchen, who contaminated the well with a shovelful of manure. The girl with half-finished paintings littering the attic, scads of piano music disintegrating in a box in the cellar, a string of broken hearts behind her. The girl who threw away the prestigious Donally Award.
    The bedsprings creaked as I lowered onto the edge of the mattress, head hanging. Mrs. McInnish was right. Someone needed to be with Jewel, and it seemed God was calling me.
    My hands shook. I clenched them still.
    â€œ You and Jewel help each other,” Mama had told me just before she passed away. Jewel had heartily obeyed, helping me through my last year of high school and my college applications. To go would be to honor Mama and repay Jewel. To stay here would be to please Daddy and to take a stand for every woman who desired to further her education. My heart pulled and stretched, breath-prayers rising to heaven in desperation.

    The next morning, I sought out Professor Clayton, told him everything. I expected him to jump into the silence when Istopped, remind me of my commitments, urge me to stay. But he didn’t speak. I bit my lower lip as his chin tilted toward his shoulder and his gaze slipped from mine.
    â€œWhat?” I whispered. But my heart already knew.
    â€œWhen I lost Elvira, it was my one regret. Putting this life”—he