were tucked under an ancient oak near the edge of the cemetery.
Strange how he missed the comfort of her presence.
As the mourners disbanded, many of them paused to offer condolences. Among them were Enoch Lawrence and his daughter, Hortense. Enoch’s voice was overly loud and gruff as he assured Ward he would hold him in his prayers. The man’s hearing loss seemed to be getting worse by the day and he compensated by raising the volume of his own voice.
Then Hortense, or Tensy as she preferred to be called, spoke up, her eyes moist with emotion. “It was a lovely service,” she said. “Just the sort your sister would have wanted.”
Tensy was closer in age to him than his sister, so the words were probably mere platitudes, but he appreciated the thought. “Thank you, I believe she would have as well.”
“Please, if there is anything at all I can do for you over the coming weeks, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Thank you.” He’d received many such offers today. While he was certain they were all sincerely meant, he didn’t intend to take anyone up on them.
After all, what could anyone do to ease his guilt?
Hazel helped Meg hop up on the sturdy but worn bench. Meg had been remarkably well behaved during the service, fidgeting much less than Hazel had anticipated, but by the end it had been clear she needed something to distract her.
It warmed Hazel’s heart to see so many folks gathered for the service. Did Ward realize they were all there to support him?
The soft strains of “What a Friend We Have In Jesus,” Bethany’s favorite hymn, had added an air of reverent sweetness to the gathering. Had Ward felt it too?
But she could tell that he’d withdrawn into himself. There was an air of rigid control about him, as if he were trying to hold back some unwanted emotion. It was his way, of course. But she couldn’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t have done some good for him to mourn outwardly as well.
What was he feeling? Grief, of course—but there was more to it than that. Guilt? Sorrow for what could have been? A touch of relief that his sister was at peace now? Probably a combination of all of them. She knew because she felt some of that as well.
Meg swung her legs and chattered away to her doll, pointing out a squirrel scampering up a tree, a butterfly flittering around and any number of other things that caught her eye.
Earlier, when the three of them had walked through town, Hazel had imagined that they must look the very picture of a happy family. Oh, how she wished that were true.
But she had to stop thinking like that. She looked around and realized she and Meg were on the receiving end of a number of curious glances but thankfully no one approached them. She had no answers to give them where Meg was concerned.
The questions she had about just who Meg was and what the future had in store for the little girl were growing. Could Ward really find Meg’s brother if the youth didn’t want to be found?
Hazel had briefly considered questioning the little girl herself earlier but that just hadn’t felt right. So far Meg seemed to be adjusting to the situation remarkably well, but there was no sense in needlessly stirring up potentially painful memories.
She’d have no such compunction with Ward, though. As soon as she could get him cornered, he would definitely have some explaining to do.
Then she glanced his way and her resolve faltered. He looked so weary, so weighted down. Maybe she wouldn’t press him today.
Tomorrow would be soon enough.
* * *
When the last of the townsfolk had left, Ward turned to see Hazel and Meg already heading his way. The two of them made a sweet picture together, a welcome contrast to the dreariness of his thoughts.
“Have you had anything to eat today?” Hazel asked as they reached him.
Ward’s lips turned up slightly. She was bound to be near-to-bursting with questions about Meg, but leave it to her to focus on more immediate needs.
“We had breakfast before we boarded the train this morning,” he answered.
She shook her head with pursed lips. “That’s what I thought—you skipped lunch. Come along, let’s get you something to eat.”
He shot her a questioning look. “Come along where?” Hazel herself was the first to admit she wasn’t the world’s best cook. When the church held the annual picnic hamper auction fund-raiser, hers was usually one of the last baskets bid on.
“Daisy’s restaurant. I haven’t had time to do any cooking of my own.”
“All right. But I’m buying.”
She raised a brow, as if that was a given. “Of course.”
“And then we’ll talk.” Though he wasn’t certain how he would give her the full explanation with Meg listening to the conversation.
“Yes, we most certainly will.”
Then she smiled down at Meg. “You should know, this restaurant we’re going to is very special.”
“It is?”
Hazel nodded solemnly. “Do you know what a library is?”
The little girl shook her head.
“Well, a library is a place that’s full of books, all kinds of books—” her tone changed as if revealing a great secret “—including picture books.”
“I like books with pictures,” Meg said hopefully.
“Well then, you’re going to really like the library. It’s located inside the restaurant. I’m sure Miss Abigail, the lady who runs it, will be happy to let you borrow one.”
Ward was impressed. It seemed Hazel had thought far enough ahead to find the child a distraction while they chatted.
Once in the restaurant, Hazel asked Abigail to show Meg the picture books. As soon as they were out of earshot, Hazel rounded on him. “Are you up for a discussion, or would you rather wait until you’ve had time to rest up a bit?”
He was surprised she was giving him a choice. “Ask your questions and I’ll answer them as best I can.”
“What do you know about Meg other than her name, and what are your plans to see that she’s cared for?”
Ward quickly and succinctly explained what had happened up to the point where he decided to step off the train with Meg in Kittering to search for Freddie.
When he paused, Hazel, who’d been making sympathetic and amazed noises by turns during his recitation, finally spoke up. “But this is awful. That poor little lamb. Did you learn what happened to Freddie?”
Ward
