as miserable as hers had been. What kind of life could they have in the shoebox she lived in? What would she use to buy food and clothes and toys if she couldn’t work?
Sure there were handouts but she had lived like that with her mother. She remembered nights without dinner and days when her mother had drank until she slept for hours.
In the end, Annie admitted to herself what she’d been denying for nine months. She wasn’t about to take a chance with her baby’s future.
The cycle would stop with her, she had vowed. Her child would have something better. Jared thought it was easy for a mother to give up her child, but he didn’t know the nights she had spent crying herself to sleep.
It had taken a long time but Annie had finally stopped beating herself up about the decision she had made. At the time it had been the right one for her child.
Her mother had never taken Annie to church but she had found it on her own, and Sara had taken her many times. When she had been at her lowest and most desperate for guidance, for direction, she had found peace and a safe place to rest her weary heart.
Her faith had sustained her through the pregnancy and through the ordeal of giving up her son. Now that same faith filled her, and Annie felt it in her heart that God was giving her a second chance.
This time she had to get it right.
“Annie, wake up. We’re here.”
Jared almost hated waking her. She’d looked peaceful though a few times she had mumbled words he hadn’t been able to understand.
She came awake adjusting her seat. “Jared, it’s beautiful.”
He saw it every day of his life and still the beauty of this place and the scenery took his breath away, made him thank God.
They got out of the car and stood in the dusty driveway. The homestead wasn’t a mansion, just a place to call home. It was a solid structure of white weather-board and dark green trim. The veranda ran the entirety of the house. The house was nestled in a grove of native Australian trees, some of them still quite young, some a little more firmly rooted in the soil.
He wondered how Annie saw it. Would she be taken by the beautiful wattle tree with its prominent yellow blooms, the eucalyptus with their strong scent?
“Most people see the isolation before they see the beauty.”
“They must be blind.”
“Come on inside.”
“The children?”
“At my parents’ house.”
Part of her was grateful for the reprieve and part of her was anxious to see Toby.
As they walked to the house, Annie caught a movement out the corner of her eye. The dog was obviously old, and it didn’t move very well.
“That’s Murphy.”
She crouched down as the dog, not at all wary of her, approached. “What breed is he?”
“Good question…and one we’ve been asking since we found him curled in the shearing shed as a puppy. He looks like he’s got Australian kelpie in him.”
His deep black coat shone with health and his eyes were pale gray. He nuzzled the hand she held out and then moved a little closer to her and allowed her to pet him.
“How long have you had him?”
Jared crouched down beside her and Murphy instantly went to him, their body language speaking of a long, close friendship.
“Sara and I found him about thirteen years ago. She kept him when I went away to the city. He became the family pet when they got the kids.”
They walked toward the house, Murphy following them. “Any other animals I should try to win over?” she asked cheerfully.
They climbed the steps and Jared held the screen door open with his foot while he unlocked the front door. “We have numerous guinea pigs and rabbits out the back. We also claim one very irritable old cat and two young mousers we keep in the shed.”
Annie nodded. “The house is lovely.”
In the living room the furniture looked well-used but lovingly cared for, the floors a shiny wood. The kitchen was a sunny room with yellow-and-white spotted curtains and the same motif on everything—from the potholders to the water glass sitting on the sink.
“Sara liked sunflowers.”
Jared moved behind her. “Yeah.”
“They are such happy flowers, don’t you think?”
Jared shrugged. “I’ve never thought of a flower being happy but I guess they are.”
“You have a huge vegetable garden out there. And so many other flowers.”
If there was such a thing as heaven on earth, Annie was sure she’d found it. Back in the entryway, Annie noticed the family tree chronicled on the wall as she made her way slowly up the stairs.
It was a progression of photographs and portraits, some with an old sepia tone, some more modern black-and-whites and eventually color.
She took the stairs slowly, one at a time, meeting one generation after another. There were pictures of Sara in her youth—her smiling face and bright eyes, the blond hair and cheerful tilt to her head as she looked at the camera.
James, very tall, a little quieter looking and a serious teen. Pictures of them together, from high school graduation to weddings made a part of Annie both happy and sad.
Happy that they had found each other, sad because they had built the foundations of a good life and would not see any of the seeds they had planted grow to fruition.
“The family portraits are cute.” Jared came up behind her. “I often find myself looking at these here.”
Annie moved down the steps. Her heart clenched and her throat became tight as she looked at the portrait of them all together dated just one year ago.
Sara and James sat in the middle, Caroline beside her mother, hugging close. Anyone who didn’t know would take them for biological mother and daughter. Luke sat by his father, holding his hand and looking just a little shy. On Sara’s knee sat Toby, looking straight at the camera with eyes Annie would have known anywhere.
Her son was happy in this photograph, content. He was smiling and his life stretched before him was secure and full of promise.
“The world was lucky to have had your sister and her husband, if only for a little while.”
Jared remained silent and Annie understood. She made no more comments. She turned, leaving him to gaze at the photographs, caught up in his own memories.
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