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Missouri and, Riley, I just couldn’t bear that.”
    “So you decided how I would react before you gave me a chance to have any say in the matter?” Riley questioned.
    “Well, you can be rather stubborn,” Zandy said with a weak smile.
    “Me? Take a look in the mirror, Mrs. Dawson, and let’s discuss stubborn streaks.”
    “All right. I’ve admitted I was wrong.”
    “Yes, you were,” Riley said firmly.
    Zandy eased into his arms and snuggled against his neck. “But you forgive me, right?”
    Riley laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “I forgive you, but please promise me you’ll give me a chance next time. This is some kind of news and, if you’d only told me, I could have made arrangements for you to have an easier trip out here.”
    “I promise to trust you in the future,” Zandy answered, feeling contentment replace her guilt.
    “Good,” Riley replied. “Now, when is my son due to arrive?”

Four
    T he weeks moved slowly, one into the other, without Pamela so much as realizing that the harsh cold of winter was passing into a colorful display of mountain spring. The gardens outside the Dawson mansion had been carefully cultivated by Ruth Stewart and, in spite of the fact that Molly did her best to pick everything in sight, there grew an enchanting array of flowers and vegetation.
    Pamela was bored, however. Bored and miserable. The snowcapped mountains surrounding Dawson did little to lift her spirits. She continued to pine for Bradley and spent most of every waking hour concentrating on her memories of their time in Kansas City.
    Zandy and Ruth laughed and talked about the baby to come. At one point, they went into town to shop, and Pamela tagged along, wishing that she might find something to interest herself. It was hope ill-spent, as far as Pamela was concerned. She couldn’t achieve the same spirit of light-heartedness as Zandy and Ruth. They were content to pick out material and plan baby clothes, while Pamela had nothing but her broken dreams.
    Catching sight of a newly placed photography studio, Pamela talked Zandy into allowing her to sit for a photograph. Pamela wanted very much to mail the picture to Bradley, hoping that it would remind him of how much she loved him. Zandy reluctantly agreed to the picture and promised she’d think about whether or not it would be wise to mail the photo to Bradley.
    “Pamela, Proverbs 17:22 is just the verse for you,” Zandy said one evening while sewing a tiny blanket. “I found it just the other day while I was having my devotions.”
    Pamela stared curiously but said nothing.
    “Anyway,” Zandy continued, “It says, ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.’ ”
    “I have nothing to be merry about, Zandy.” The words were given mat ter-of-factly, and Pamela offered nothing more on the matter.
    Zandy put aside her blanket and reached across the small table to where Pamela’s hands were folded in idle frustration. “We don’t always understand why God allows certain things to happen in our lives. I know I couldn’t understand why I had to meet up with the likes of Riley Dawson when he first came to this town. But God sees the bigger picture, and we have to trust Him with it.”
    “But it is so hard,” Pamela said with a heaviness that threatened to break into sobs.
    “I know,” Zandy said and gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “But just remember this, when Moses’ mother put him into the basket and had his sister set him afloat in the Nile, God was already sending Pharaoh’s daughter to the river bank.”
    “I don’t think I understand,” Pamela admitted.
    “God was already planning ahead. He wants us in our living and desires to seek His will and way for our lives. Often, however, we choose another path, and God realizes, as a loving Father, that giving us our own way would be harmful. He gives us the freedom to choose, but He also intervenes to redirect because He knows we are only