“Shh,” Lilly whispered in Copper’s ear. “Nursey?”

“Yes, nursey.”

They watched as the doe nibbled delicately on a patch of clover while the twins took turns with her milk, knocking heads in their impatience. Suddenly, the doe’s ears perked. She froze for an instant before turning to leap into the darkness of the forest, her twins close behind, white tails bobbing. Their crashing run reverberated across the meadow.

Copper was sorry for disturbing the mother deer. But the beauty of the place could not be ignored; the forest creatures would have to share with her and Lilly Gray.

The sun hitched higher in the morning sky and graced a line of pear trees with its light. A breeze kicked up, and a drift of fragrant white blossoms showered Copper and her baby.

Untying the sling, Copper slid Lilly from her back and let her dance in the midst of their sudden good fortune. Lilly grabbed handfuls of the silky petals and flung them in the air.

“Looks like snow, doesn’t it, Lilly? You were just a baby last winter when we made snowmen with Auntie Alice and cousin Dodie.” Another thing I’ve probably done wrong, taking Lilly Gray from her family.

Help me know I made the right decision in coming back, Lord, she prayed. Please help me.

Copper picked up Lilly, then settled her on her skinny hip. “Let’s go find the waterfall.” As they traversed the field, she took note of the small orchard, just a line of a couple dozen or so trees actually, as if someone had intended to farm this patch of land and then left for one reason or another. She and Lilly would come back to check on the fruit. Pear butter was good on biscuits.

They entered the forest gloom and popped out again before a sparkling waterfall revealed itself. It tumbled from a high rock outcropping and was as pretty as a gemstone.

Oh, Copper wished she’d brought a bar of soap and a towel, but no matter, she and Lilly Gray would bathe anyway; her linen petticoat would serve to dry them. Lilly shivered in the needlelike spray. Copper could have stood there all day. The sluicing water, the moss-covered rock, the sycamore tree bent forward over the brook … peace, that’s what it was. Peace as strong as communion and also sacred. It seemed God had designed this place and this moment just for her. An answer to spoken prayer.

Back in the meadow, Copper picked a bright patch of sunlight and sat with Lilly to dry her hair. She’d rest just a moment before starting home, although there was so much to do she couldn’t afford the time. Eggs needed gathering, the milk from the morning needed straining, and she needed to see what she could salvage from the garden. How could she get everything done alone? Of course there was her neighbor John Pelfrey. John had been so good already, planting the garden and bringing her a cow and some chickens, but Copper didn’t want to rely on that goodness. John had his own work to do, and the last thing she wanted was to be beholden.