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and inhales the minty aroma before taking a sip.
    â€œYeah.” Elizabeth is about to say more, but decides not to. She takes a sip of her own tea. “It’s a nice neighborhood,” she says finally.
    â€œI won’t say I told you so.” Her mom smiles. “Was anything open?”
    â€œSome stuff. I need to go back during the day. Maybe tomorrow.”
    â€œThat’s great,” her mother yawns. “I should go to bed. I have a patient coming in before eight.” She brings the mug to her lips a final time before setting it in the kitchen sink.
    Elizabeth shudders. Eight. A full three hours before she plans on even getting out of bed.
    â€œShut off all the lights before you come up, okay?”
    â€œSure, Mom. Night.” Elizabeth listens as her mother climbs the creaking stairs. Most of the house has been completely renovated by previous owners, but the staircase is part of the original house.
    Elizabeth waits until the noise stops. She goes back into the hall and grabs the book from her bag. The Soldier Doll. So weird , she thinks. She peels the lollipop off the back cover and marches to the trash, tossing the half-eaten candy in with relish. Leaning against the counter, she reaches for another pretzel and flips the book open to the poem. As she reads, she feels her heart speed up, thumping loudly against her chest.
    â€œCherubic face and eyes of blue/His boots are shined, his rifle new.” She reads it twice before carefully placing the book facedown on the counter to mark her place. She walks over to the fireplace. Could it be? she wonders. Evan said people have been searching for it. Elizabeth looks up at the little soldier. He stares back at her from his place on the mantle, serene and full of secrets. Could the little figure really be the soldier doll from the poem? But if it is, how on earth did he make his way to the yard sale? And, more importantly, where could he have been hiding all these years?

Chapter 3
    Devon, England
    1918
    â€œMeg! Megsy! Wait for me!”
    Meg paused and looked over her shoulder. Ned had almost slipped running along the grass, still slick with yesterday’s rain. “I shouldn’t think so!” she shouted. “You have to catch me!” Laughing, she lifted her skirts and continued her dash toward the river, long hair flying loose behind her like a kite’s streamers on a windy day, the kind that children flew at summer picnics. The sun was strong and warm though now and then a brisk breeze would rattle the trees, cooling the April air.
    Meg saw Ned groan and force himself along, out of breath from running. She sprawled out on the grass, lazily braiding her hair.
    â€œWhy so slow, lazy bones?” Meg’s green eyes twinkled as he approached. She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes. “My feet are sore from running so much quicker than you.” She grinned and looked out at the river. Spring was coming—there were signs of it all around—but the water would still be too cold for swimming or wading until perhaps June.
    Ned collapsed next to her. “You really must stop that, Meg.” He coughed, his shoulders shaking slightly. “It’s harder for me to keep up with you now.” He plucked a blade of grass and rubbed it between his fingers.
    â€œNonsense.” Meg looked away. “Don’t be silly. You’re well now. The doctor said it himself.” She found a stone and picked it up. With surprising force, she tossed it toward the river. It skipped once before sinking; they both watched it go down.
    Ned coughed again. “I am on the mend, but I’m out of practice. I’m not quite ready yet for running races to the water.” He gave her an apologetic look and a hopeful smile. He took the blade of grass and ran it behind her ear, tickling her skin.
    Meg brushed his hand away and stared at the ground. Ned had taken ill just past Christmas. She had been permitted to