Nobody had seen him enter.
He held a revolver.
People screamed.
Cyrus fired into the ceiling.
“Sit down!”
Dust drifted from the rafters.
Owen jumped toward him.
“Father—”
“Shut up.”
Cyrus looked almost calm.
That terrified Caleb more than shouting would have.
His gaze found Mae.
“You foolish little girl.”
Caleb moved slightly.
Cyrus pointed the gun at him.
“Not another step.”
Mae stood beside the altar.
“You killed my father.”
A whisper moved through the congregation.
Cyrus smiled.
“No.”
“You stole his land.”
“No.”
“You forced me to marry Owen for it.”
This time Cyrus laughed.
And something about that laugh made Owen turn toward him.
“What?”
Cyrus ignored his son.
Mae continued.
“My father died two weeks before you offered to settle his debts.”
“You know nothing about your father.”
“I know he hated you.”
“You know what your mother told you.”
Mae froze.
Cyrus’s smile changed.
Caleb felt something approaching.
Something none of them understood yet.
Mae whispered, “My mother died when I was seven.”
“No.”
The word struck the church like another gunshot.
Mae stared.
Cyrus said, “Ruth Larkin did not die.”
Owen stepped toward him.
“Father, stop.”
Cyrus glanced at him.
And suddenly Owen looked frightened too.
“What are you saying?” Mae asked.
Cyrus looked toward the rear doors.
“Ask her.”
A woman stood there.
Nobody had noticed her enter.
She wore a brown servant’s dress.
A dark shawl covered her hair.
The left side of her face was twisted with old burn scars.
Mae stopped breathing.
“Hester?”
Caleb knew the woman.
Everyone did.
Hester Vale.
The silent housekeeper who had worked for the Draytons for nearly fifteen years.
She had rarely entered town.
Rarely spoke.
People said her husband burned her face before dying in a barn fire.
Hester walked slowly down the aisle.
Cyrus pointed the revolver at her.
“You should have stayed in the kitchen.”
Hester’s scarred mouth lifted.
“And you should have killed me properly.”
Caleb felt the world tilt.
Hester reached beneath her shawl.
She pulled out a silver locket.
Caleb’s heart stopped.
No.
He knew that locket.
His father had made it.
Two tiny initials were scratched into the back.
C.R.
Caleb could not breathe.
Hester looked at him.
And for the first time, he noticed her eyes.
Gray.
Exactly like his mother’s.
Exactly like his own.
“Caleb.”
His knees nearly failed.
“No.”
Tears filled Hester’s eyes.
“Little brother.”
The church vanished around him.
Sixteen years disappeared.
He heard summer grass.
His sister laughing.
Her voice calling him little brother whenever she wanted to irritate him.
Caleb whispered, “Clara?”
A sound escaped her.
Half sob.
Half laugh.
He crossed the church before Cyrus could stop him.
Clara met him halfway.
Caleb grabbed her.
She buried her face against his chest.
Sixteen years of grief broke out of him in one strangled cry.
“My God.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You were alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
He held her harder.
“You were alive.”
Across the room, Mae had covered her mouth.
Owen looked as though he were seeing a ghost.
Perhaps he was.
Because Clara finally stepped away from Caleb and looked directly at him.
