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singing with them, though,” Rebecca said.
    â€œSo did I.”
    â€œWill we have to leave tomorrow?”
    â€œNo, not tomorrow.”
    â€œI wish we could stay here forever.”
    Pauline leaned forward and kissed her daughter. “No more worries tonight. All right? Nothing but good thoughts and sweet dreams.”
    Rebecca took hold of her mother’s arm, unwilling to let her go just yet. “I thought the donkeys might bite.”
    â€œDon’t insult them.”
    Rebecca was heartened to see her mother tease. “I liked hearing about them.”
    â€œI did, too. I never knew that boy donkeys are called Jack and girls called Jenny.”
    â€œMe neither. I’m going to help feed them tomorrow.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œThis is a pretty room.”
    Pauline nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
    â€œKind of old-fashioned,” Rebecca whispered.
    Pauline looked around and then grinned. “Kind of,” she whispered back.
    â€œBut I like it,” Rebecca stated.
    â€œMe too.”
    â€œDo you think you should sleep in here with us tonight?”
    â€œI’ll be right next door, and I’ll leave the doors open. Unless you want me to sleep with you.”
    Rebecca thought about it. “It’s fine if you sleep next door.”
    â€œAll right.”
    â€œI still feel like we’re riding in the train. Don’t you?”
    â€œA little bit.” Pauline glanced at Jake, who was asleep already.
    â€œMama?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œYou think we’ll stay around here?”
    â€œI hope so. I really do hope so.”
    â€œMe too.”
    â€œClose your eyes and go to sleep now.”
    â€œDo you think—”
    â€œSshh,” Pauline said, gently smoothing back Rebecca’s hair. “No more worries tonight.”
    Rebecca closed her eyes. “Don’t go yet.”
    â€œNo, I won’t. I’ll stay right here until you fall asleep,” Pauline said in a hushed voice.
    â€œWill you hum the song?”
    Rather than answer, Pauline began humming Rebecca’s favorite tune. Pauline didn’t know where she’d heard it, nor did she know the name of it. She’d hummed it often because it was Rebecca’s favorite and because humming was quiet. Singing had irritated Ethan, so she’d learned not to do it. Not that everything hadn’t annoyed Ethan. Her breathing annoyed him. Her being annoyed him.
    As Rebecca’s breathing evened out, a breeze wafted in the window, making the curtains flutter. Rebecca turned on her side, asleep, but barely. Pauline stroked her daughter’s hair and began the song over.
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    Cessie and April May were in the parlor, Cessie knitting, her needles clicking softly one against the other. April May’s feet were propped on an upholstered footstool with fringe, her hands folded on her stomach. “George Mason was a wife beater,” she remarked. “Remember that?”
    â€œYes, I do. And you remember what became of Millie Mason.”
    â€œSon of a bitch killed her deader than a nit.”
    Cessie’s needles stopped moving as she looked up at her sister. “You know good and well that was never proved,” she rejoined, “but I will say this much. He stole her spirit long before he took her life.”
    April May murmured agreement. Millie had been a normal girl, but George turned her into a whipped dog.
    Cessie drew breath to say something, but refrained when Pauline came into the room. “The children asleep?” she asked instead.
    Pauline nodded. “Yes. I don’t know how to thank you both for your kindness.”
    â€œYou said that already,” April May reminded her.
    She had, but she needed to say more. Although they thought nothing of it, it wasn’t nothing—it was everything. “You’ve given me renewed strength to go on.”
    â€œOh, honey,” Cessie said, setting her knitting down.