worst that could happen—and terrify herself in the process.
How did she expect it was going to end? If life had taught Millie one thing, it was that the worst could indeed happen. Their crops were going to die. Millie was going to end up homeless again. Homeless and pregnant and alone. Millie pushed away from the table where she had been writing in her notebook. Moving to her bedroom, she pulled out her suitcase. Placed it on the bed. Opened her chest drawer and grabbed a handful of clothes.
Froze.
What was she doing? Packing? Running away?
Where would she go?
And, what would she end up leaving behind?
Still clutching the clothes in her hand, Millie sank down into her rocking chair. Buried her face into the cloth she was gripping for dear life. Sucked in a shaky breath and pressed against her eyes that suddenly felt like they were on fire.
She could feel the beat of her heart, pounding in her chest. She felt the sting of tears. The tightness of her throat.
Millie felt the distinct swell of her stomach. The movement of life inside, apparently unwilling to sit idly by as Millie panicked.
Hunched almost into a ball as she was, Millie also felt a hardness in her bundle of clothes. She felt through the balled-up material until she found the pouch of beads. She opened the pouch and poured several out onto her hand. Large. Wooden. Painted bright colors. Each one had a hole in the center, perfect for a small child to thread string or yarn through. When the family she’d been staying with after her husband died had learned that Millie was marrying into a family with a little girl, they’d given the beads to Millie. Something she could use as a game with her new daughter.
Caty. Could she really leave that sweet girl? And Genie? Would she be that woman? The one who hurt those children by abandoning them after working so hard to earn their affection and trust? And, what about her own heart? She, well, she loved those children. All of her fears that they would not accept her had been completely unfounded.
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