A Promise to Love by Serena B. Miller

Author:Serena B. Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042040, FIC027050
ISBN: 9781441239709
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

15

The two-day rain brought wildflowers—armloads of them seemed to spring up around their farm overnight.

“Ma always liked flowers,” Agnes said, her nose pressed against the window.

“Maybe you take her some,” Ingrid suggested.

“What do you mean?” Agnes asked.

“Go put flowers on mother’s grave.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Joshua asked.

“No. Why I mind?” Ingrid said. “Go.” She made a shooing motion. “Take flowers for mother.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I pack picnic. You stay long time. Talk with children about mother,” Ingrid suggested. “Remember together.”

“Thank you, Ingrid. That’s very thoughtful of you,” Joshua said. “I think that would be a good idea.”

Although he looked at her a little suspiciously when she said “stay long time” and handed him a basket of sandwiches, he accepted the basket and headed out with the girls.

“Pick many flowers for mother,” Ingrid called as they left.

She knew that Diantha’s grave was in a family plot on top of a rise behind Virgie and Richard’s house. With any luck, the walk, the picnic, the picking of flowers, the remembering would keep them away for an hour or two.

Ingrid hoped they would stay gone as long as possible. It would give her a chance to do something she had been itching to do—search the house over for that key.

“You and my mother will be all right alone here with Bertie?” Joshua asked.

“We fine.” Ingrid fought back frustration with his slowness to leave. “Go. Have good time.”

The minute the girls and he had left, she placed Bertie in his cradle and scooted it over near the rocking chair where Mary sat basting a new baby dress for him out of the navy blue material Joshua had brought from George’s yesterday—in spite of having to make the trip in the rain. Joshua must really not want Bertie to wear the pink calico.

“You watch baby?” Ingrid asked.

“Of course.” Mary peered at her over her glasses. “You’re going to go looking for that key, aren’t you?”

“Ja.” Ingrid was impressed. Mary seemed to be getting more alert each day. “How you know?”

“What woman wouldn’t want to know what a man’s first wife was keeping locked away in a chest?” Mary said. “Diantha was always cordial to me, but she was a secretive little thing. Where are you going to look?”

“Upstairs in girls’ loft?”

“No.” Mary shook her head. “I already checked out all the hiding places up there.”

“You do that?” Ingrid was even further impressed.

“I had to sacrifice to send that fabric each Christmas,” Mary said. “Plus, Barb resented it. It bothers me that Diantha evidently never touched it. I’d like to see it put to use for what I intended it—clothing for the children.”

“Where I look then?”

“I’d look in the bedroom—where it would be handy and where she could close the door so the girls couldn’t see where she was hiding it.”

“That make sense.” Ingrid headed toward the bedroom.

“Except that Diantha was an outdoorsy woman. It could be in the barn or one of the sheds. Or even in a tree somewhere for all I know.”

“I never find key!”

“Well, I would look in the bedroom first.

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