“Do you know why your pops went away all those times, dear?” She watched Lizzie’s frown reappear. After a moment’s contemplation, she shook her head.

  “I think I do and it has nothing to do with you.”

  Lizzie stared at her in disbelief. “How do you know that?”

  “When Jack lived in Sunshine, way back when I knew him,” she added with a smile. “He loved to do one thing. Can you guess what it was?”

  “I dunno. He likes taking pictures,” Lizzie said uncertainly.

  “No. He loves taking pictures.” Grace chuckled. “I’d forgotten that until we started talking about camp and I remembered that’s where Jack first learned about photography. After we came home from camp, he wanted a camera so badly that he agreed to work for his dad in the church so he could get enough money to buy one.”

  “He did? But my dad tole me Pops an’ his daddy had bad fights,” Lizzie asserted, nose scrunched up in disbelief.

  “They did,” Grace agreed. “Maybe because Jack didn’t understand what his father was trying to teach him about God. I think that’s why he likes taking pictures. I think they help him see things differently.”

  “Sometimes I don’t understand ’bout God,” Lizzie mumbled.

  “Neither do I sometimes, dear,” she explained before Lizzie could ask. “But we can understand that we are His children and that He loves us and will take care of us, always.”

  “You mean God loved me even when He made my mommy an’ daddy die?” Lizzie’s stark question floored Grace, but it demanded an answer.

  “I don’t believe God made them die,” she said carefully. “But I do believe that God loves you and is always working to make things better for you. God’s love never changes. He will always love us, no matter what.”

  “Huh.” Lizzie watched the fire for a while, puzzling it through until her stomach rumbled.

  “I think we’d better cook our supper now.” Grace tickled her. “Before your stomach gets louder. It sounds angry,” she teased.

  “It is ’cause I didn’t eat all my lunch today,” Lizzie admitted while Grace helped her thread a smoked sausage onto one of the metal forks that were tucked in a nearby storage box.

  “Why didn’t you?” Grace wondered.

  “This kid, Marcus. He said his mom was at work an’ his dad was asleep an’ nobody made him lunch, an’ then the bus came an’—” Lizzie shrugged. “So anyway, I shared mine.”

  “That was very kind of you.” Grace squeezed her shoulder. “Exactly the kind of thing God wants His children to do, share with one another.”

  “No biggie.” Lizzie shared some details of her life pre-Sunshine that gave Grace a clearer picture of the child’s troubling insecurities.

  Lizzie didn’t feel she fit anywhere anymore. Perhaps having her and Jack stay at the Double H wasn’t a good idea because eventually, Lizzie would have another home, another place to fit into. Grace encouraged the child to talk some more, but it wasn’t long before Lizzie grew more interested in the trunk of toys than talking. Then they played games.

  As late afternoon turned into evening and shadows began to fall, Grace reluctantly packed up their things. She showed Lizzie how to flatten the few coals that were left, place the cover on top and check that everything was stored ready for the next user. Then they started home.

  “Do you think Pops will be there?” Lizzie’s hopeful tone hurt to hear.

  “I doubt it, dear. Ben said he’d be late.” An idea hit. “Lizzie, just because your pops isn’t always nearby, and because he gets caught up taking pictures, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. Your pops does love you very much. He’s not going to leave you.”

  “He might,” Lizzie whispered as they climbed the last hill. “He might get sick and die. God might want that.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s possible.” Grace agreed very softly. She stopped where she was and smoothed a hand over Lizzie’s dark hair. “But I don’t believe God wants that at all. I think God made sure your grandfather was there when you really needed him and that He’ll keep him with you so you won’t be alone. Because God loves you very much, Lizzie, dear.”

  While Lizzie prepared for bed, Grace stored their used items from the cooler and hung the backpack in the closet, praying silently for knowledge to help this troubled child. When nothing came to mind, she picked up the storybook she always read to Lizzie before bed and wondered which Biblical tale would be most suitable for tonight.

  “I like that book.” Lizzie stood in the doorway, her scrubbed face aglow in the light. “If we’re reading from it again, I wanna hear the story about the boy who looked after sheep an’ God made him king.”

  “David,” Grace said automatically. She patted the seat beside her and waited until Lizzie was curled up there. “Why that story?”

  “’Cause it makes me think about him not having his daddy or mommy to help him when he had to run away from the other king, an’ how he did okay.” Lizzie picked at a loose thread on the cushion she hugged against herself. “I want to be like him, but I miss my mommy and daddy,” she whispered.

  “I know you do, dear.” Grace’s heart ached for this sweet child and all she’d lost. “I’m sure you did lots of fun things with them, didn’t you?”

  “Yes!” She lifted her chin and met Grace’s gaze with a sad face. “But I can’t ’member everything. Sometimes I can’t even ’member their faces.” She burst into tears.

  That’s why you keep looking at your tablet.

  Grace knew it was true. She also knew she had to do something. Lizzie was hurting. Since Jack wasn’t here, it was up to her to fix things. But how? She eased the book out of the way so she could fold Lizzie into an embrace and that’s when the second idea came.

  “Listen to me now, child.” She tenderly brushed away the tears and smiled into that small sorrowful face. “You haven’t really forgotten your parents. Their faces are just tucked away for now, because there’s too much to remember all at once.”

  “But I want to remember everything!” Lizzie wailed.

  “I know.” Grace squeezed her hand. “I might have an idea how to do that. Do you want to hear it?”

  “Y-yes.” The child sniffed so loudly that it was impossible to begin without first handing her a tissue to blow her nose.

  “I think you need to have a special book,” she said gently. “Some of the Calhoun children who lived in Africa and had to leave their home made one and it helped them.”

  “How can a book—”

  “Books can do a lot of things, Lizzie. I should know. I was a librarian for many years and I’ve watched lots of people find the help they need in books.” Grace smiled at the inquisitive face and realized she truly enjoyed the moments of sharing with this child.

  “We gotta read a book to ’member Mommy and Daddy better?” Lizzie frowned. “O-okay, but where do I get a book about my mommy and daddy?”

  “I meant you should make a book.” She watched the idea percolate through the girl’s mind.

  “I dunno how to make books!” Lizzie exclaimed.

  “It’s quite easy. Every time you think of a fun time you and your parents shared, you either paint or draw a picture in your book to remind you. I’m sure your pops has pictures of your parents—”

  “Yup, he does. An’ if he gives me some, I could put ’em in the book. Like the time we went on a sleigh ride into the woods to get our Christmas tree!” Lizzie’s excitement created a huge smile that engaged her entire face. “An’ like the first day I went to school.”

  “And perhaps when you learned to ride your horse?” She strove to sound matter-of-fact. Riding had apparently been important to Lizzie at one time. “I heard you had white boots. I’d love to see a picture of those.” Grace recalled when she’d first learned to ride right here on the Double H, just a few years ago. “I used to have red boots.”

  “I don’t want to make no pictures about riding,” Lizzie said with a firm shake of her head. “But I c’n make other pictures. Maybe that kind of a book would make me not so lonely,” she whispered to herself.

  The child had isolated herself for so long that she probably now found it more difficult to interact with anyone but her Pops. School was helping, but Lizzie needed more.

  “Are you lonely a lot, dear?” Grace asked in a very gentle tone.

  “Sometimes I am. That’s when I go to my room.” She glanced over one shoulder, as if to ensure no one could overhear. Her voice dropped. “Pops doesn’t know it, but I look on my tablet at the newspaper story ’bout them when I need to ’member their faces.”

  The story about her parents’ deaths? Appalled, Grace tucked her forefinger under that determined chin and forced Lizzie’s amber eyes to meet hers.

  “Tomorrow you must show me, dear. Then we’ll get rid of those sad pictures and put happy ones in their place. And we’ll start your book. Maybe we can use some pictures your pops took.” She frowned. “It’s not healthy to look at sad things all the time, Lizzie.”

  “’Cause it makes you more sadder.” Lizzie nodded. “I know. When can we get a book for me to put my pictures in?”

  “We can drive to town on Saturday morning. Your pops will come with us,” Grace said firmly. She pressed her lips together and shook her head when Lizzie suggested he might have other plans. “No, dear,” she said firmly, “I’m very sure your pops wants to spend Saturday with you, doing fun things.”

  “Sure?” Lizzie asked hesitantly.

  “Positive.” Don’t you even think about arguing with me, Jack Prinz, she warned mentally. “Then you’ll be able to draw a picture of our happy times for your book, too. We’ll get a huge book with lots of pages and lovely colored pencils or crayons, whichever you like.”

  “What if it gets full?” the little girl wondered.

  “Full of happy memories?” Grace laughed. “Why then we’ll get another one and fill it up, too.” She touched the hunched shoulder. “And when you can’t remember your mom and dad or the fun times you had together, we’ll take out your books and look at them and they will remind you of such happy times.”

  “Okay.” Lizzie smiled to herself at the thought of it. “Can we have the story about that boy now?” she asked after a huge yawn.

  “Yes, we surely can, dear.”

  Grace read with great expression, reminding herself that this was no different than the many occasions she’d read for preschoolers and school groups during story time at the library. But tonight, she took extra care to make the story as lifelike as possible for the little girl. She sometimes forgot Lizzie was not quite six because she always seemed old for her years. Perhaps grief and being alone so much had caused her to grow up quickly. Well, tonight she was going to go to bed with happy dreams about a boy who became a king.

  She took her time tucking Lizzie into bed, ensuring she was no longer sad, and that a tiny nightlight burned lest she become frightened in the night.

  “Sweet dreams, Lizzie,” she murmured tenderly, brushing a kiss against her velvety cheek. “Dream about all the happy things we’ll do together.”

  “Us and Pops,” Lizzie agreed, her eyelids drooping. “Night, Miss P.”

  Never had Grace’s longing to be called an endearment risen so strong. But that wasn’t happening so she’d just have to make do by showering her love on Lizzie. And that meant involving her grandfather.

  “There is no way that child is going to spend another moment alone in her room, staring at an ugly newspaper report just so she can remind herself of her parents’ faces,” Grace promised herself as she stepped onto the deck to enjoy the night air and the first star’s appearance. “Not on my watch.”

  She purposely didn’t turn on a light. Sometimes the gloom of anonymity was needed to aid in organizing thoughts. She got lost thinking about Jack and wondering what things had happened to him to turn him into who he was, which was why she was still sitting there when the chuck wagon appeared and the driver let “Pops” off at the main house. Jack limped toward the door, paused and turned to glance at the log cabin.

  Come over here, her mind begged. Come check on your granddaughter. She needs to see you. So do I, Jack. Talk to me. See me as more than Lizzie’s caregiver. I need to be more to you than a handy convenience. I need so much more from you. Please, think about me.

  But Jack mustn’t have heard or sensed her pleas, because after a moment’s scrutiny, he shrugged, turned and entered the main house.

  Grace straightened her shoulders.

  All right then. If he couldn’t see it for himself, she’d have to show him that neither she nor Lizzie was going to be cast aside. It was time Jack learned about real partnership, the kind needed if a marriage was to happen, though right now Grace was highly doubtful he could be the partner she needed. God would have to work wonders on both of them.

  “Have a good sleep, Jack, because things are going to change in your world. They’re going to change a lot come Saturday.”

  * * *

  Jack’s aching leg meant he usually slept fitfully, waking often, as if there was something he’d forgotten to do. Friday night, after finally taking a second pain pill, oblivion came in the wee hours.

  And was abruptly shattered Saturday morning when someone frantically pounded on his door at the crack of dawn.

  “Yeah,” he managed, dragging his head from the pillow.

  “Sorry to wake you, Jack, but Grace Partridge just called. She asked me to tell you she’ll pick you up in twenty minutes,” Ben explained.

  Why couldn’t he get his bleary vision to clear? And why would Grace be calling him at this time of day?

  “Emergency?” he grunted, struggling upright. “Lizzie?”

  “She said they’re fine,” Ben reassured him.

  “Oh.” He flopped back onto his pillow. “It’s Saturday, isn’t it? Why does she need to pick me up?” What was the woman up to now?

  “No clue. Guess you could call her and find out,” Ben suggested half-heartedly. “But if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t. Grace doesn’t take kindly to folks not falling in with her plans. She clearly has some for today and apparently they include you.” He waited a minute then urged, “Better get up now.”

  Jack couldn’t quite smother his groan. He dearly wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but that wasn’t going to happen. For one thing, he was now wide awake. For another, Ben was right; Grace wouldn’t allow it. He forced himself to rise and prepare for the day. He managed to grab his camera and get to the kitchen one minute before his almost fiancée pushed through the back door. Just enough time to pour himself a cup of Bonnie’s delicious black coffee.

  “Good morning, Jack. You won’t need that,” Grace said cheerfully.

  “Believe me, I do,” he grumped, inhaling the dark aroma as if he was in the desert.

  “You can have all the coffee you want at the restaurant,” she chided as she lifted the mug from his hand and emptied it down the drain.

  “Hey, I wanted—What restaurant?” he demanded with a frown.

  “The one you’re taking us to for breakfast. Come on, Jack. Lizzie’s waiting in the car. We have a full day planned.”

  “We do? Great.” He infused as much enthusiasm into the words as he was capable of, which wasn’t much. Since Grace didn’t move from in front of the coffee pot, he was forced to step past her out the door. He got in the car, despite his misgivings about this trip.

  “Hi, Pops.” Lizzie sounded happy. That was good. Grace was good for her. Way better than he was.

  “Hey, Sweet Pea.” He swallowed his irritation with Grace as he folded himself into the seat, right after he’d spied a new ding on her car’s bumper. Thank goodness she hadn’t asked to take his vehicle wherever they were going!

  “Don’t you dare blame that mark on my driving,” Grace chided as she slipped into the driver’s seat. “Mordecai Miller backed into me at the post office. Honestly, that man is so cheap. He refuses to buy himself new glasses, though he’s needed them for at least two years.”

  “Uh-huh.” Given the glower from her pansy eyes, Jack skipped commenting and focused on his granddaughter. “How are you, darlin’?”

  “I’m okay.” Lizzie’s smile faded. “You didn’t come and say good-night to me for lotsa nights, Pops.”

  “No, sorry. I’ve been getting back pretty late. All the lights were off at your place so I didn’t want to bother you.” It was a shabby excuse and he knew it, but the shots he’d taken after dark, of the starlit sky with no human lights to impede, were going to be glorious. He changed the subject. “We’re going out for breakfast, huh? Good. You can tell me what you’ve been up to.”

  “Me an’ Miss P. have been really busy. We’re gonna make a book today. Well, I’m makin’ it and she’s helpin’,” Lizzie corrected. “An’ you’re helpin’ us, too, Pops.”

  “I am? Making a book?” Jack gaped at Grace. “You’re the librarian. I know nothing about making books.”

  “So you’ll learn.” She half smiled. “I’ll teach you. But for now, let’s think about what we’re going to enjoy for breakfast.” Grace briskly turned the corner onto the highway, cutting it a bit short so they spit gravel.

  Jack, leg throbbing, tightened his grip on his seat belt.

  “I believe I’ll have waffles with fresh strawberries and whipped cream,” she continued as if nothing was amiss. “Lizzie, what would you like?”

  “Pancakes and blueberry syrup,” his granddaughter asserted. “What are you havin’, Pops?”

  “Cackleberries, overland trout, some wasp nest, maybe.” He smothered a grin at Grace’s wide-eyed glance.

  “Don’tcha want any hash browns?” Lizzie asked. “You always have hash browns, Pops.”

  “Not that hungry today,” Jack explained, and then added rather smugly, “That’s eggs, bacon and bread, preferably sourdough, to you, Gracie.”