The winter days passed with slow regularity that Anker welcomed. For the most part, they lived a life of routine—he doing the outside chores; she cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry. They shared evenings around the warm stove. Anker told her many stories about growing up in a large family. She offered little and when he prodded her, she said she had no stories. Her life had been mostly work and enduring. But occasionally, she remembered something like the spelling bee she had won when she had been allowed to attend school. There had been no prize apart from her sense of accomplishment.

February provided a short diversion when Charlie had his second birthday.

Upon hearing it was Charlie’s birthday, Anker immediately fashioned a crown from stiff paper and placed it on the boy’s head. “You are king for the day.”

Lena snorted. “Another Norwegian tradition?”

“Another Hansen tradition. Grandfar said every child should be so honored. As long as it’s reasonable, Charlie’s every wish is our command today.” He turned to the boy. “What do you want?”

“Play animals with me.”

Anker grinned at Lena.

She rolled her eyes. “Big surprise there. That’s what he wants every day. And every day you play with him.”

“I enjoy it.”

“So it seems.”

Her expression changed so swiftly he couldn’t be certain if the idea pleased her, before she turned inscrutable and practical. “Well, go play with him while I clean up the breakfast things.”

In the passing weeks, as spring approached, he often found her staring out the window, or taking Charlie and walking to the end of the lane where she would cross her arms and look across the prairie.

“What are you looking at?” he asked several times.

“What is there to look at?” she said, then retraced her steps to the house.

He ached to be able to reach her, but she seemed to have disappeared behind invisible walls.

One day in late March, when the wind was soft and warm and the snow had disappeared except on the north-facing slopes, she announced at the breakfast table, “Today is my birthday. I am twenty-one years old.”

“Then I must make you a crown.” He hurried to fashion one despite her protests and fit it to her head. “You are queen for the day. Your wish is my command.” He executed what he hoped passed as a royal bow. “What is your wish?”

She studied him, a cautious, hoping expression on her face. “Anything?”

“Anything. As long as it’s possible.”

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know if it is.”

“Tell me and let me decide.”

She looked so sad and determined he squeezed her shoulder, silently promising he would give her anything she requested if he had the power to do so.

“I would like an hour or two alone at my farm.”

His heart sank like he’d weighted it with lead. He swallowed hard and did his best to hide his reaction even though the shock waves of disappointment trembled through him. Finally, he gathered his thoughts and nodded. “I think that’s possible. I need to go to town and pick up the mail. We’ll go by your place and leave you. I’ll take Charlie with me.”

Her face filled with excitement, and while dread twisted his insides, she scurried to get ready.

She hadn’t changed her mind about returning to the farm or ending their marriage. He’d allowed unfounded hope to build. Father God, I ask You to work in her life. Let her realize she can trust You. And provide strength for me to face the day she leaves.

* * *

Anker helped Lena down from the wagon.

“Thank you,” she said, promising herself she would reveal none of her excitement at being on her own land, nor any of the turmoil as she wondered how she would manage. She didn’t know if she meant managing the farm, or walking away from Anker’s care. She had to do both. It was the only way she knew how to keep her heart safe.

He flashed her a bright smile as if trying to convince them both this wasn’t painful for him. “I’ll see you later.” He flicked the reins and with a big wave, drove away.

Lena stepped back and waited while he drove down the road, Charlie perched proudly on his knee. She meant thanks for much more than the ride and the chance to be alone as she explored her farm. She meant his kindness, his love for Charlie, and the way he had honored his promise to her, but she couldn’t find words to say it. Besides, she feared they would be so inadequate they might offend him. Or worse, she’d end up asking if she could stay at his place. And she wouldn’t risk that. Her caution and fear had caused her to say very little to him in the past few weeks.

When he was far enough away she no longer worried he might read her confused emotions, she slowly turned full circle. It was the first time she’d been back since the fire. This was her place. Her very own place. She belonged here.

A wave of warm remembrances washed over her. Here she’d worked side by side with Johnson and here she’d borne their son. They’d shingled the barn and filled the loft with hay. They’d watched as Bossy delivered her first calf. Both Bossy and her calf now lived in Anker’s barn. Anker would keep last year’s calf in return for giving Lena, Charlie, and her stock a home for the winter, and she would bring Bossy back. The cow would freshen soon and the milk would help her feed Charlie.

Her memories turned bittersweet, and her chest felt weighted.

Johnson was gone. Her house was gone. Their dream was gone.

No. She corrected herself. The dream lived on. She still had the farm. And she still had Charlie. She could keep the farm and make a life for him here. Only now she would have to do it on her own.

She went to the rubble that had been her house. She’d expected nothing more than a pile of ashes, but the stove squatted amidst the debris. Perhaps she could polish it up and use it in her new home.

She hurried closer, eager to discover if anything of value remained, and stepped over what had been the threshold. The twisted, rusty frame of her bed stood as a silent reminder of a life now gone. She swallowed back tears and turned away.

Where her kitchen cupboard had once been there was only rubble, the objects unrecognizable except for the rusted Dutch oven lying on its side stuffed with straw and bits of fabric indicating it had been a winter home for mice.

She kicked the blackened mess, raising an acrid odor.

A bit of white china caught her eye and she bent to pick it up.

Her mind went to a different time. A different place.

It was shortly after they’d completed the house and barn. They had gone to town for supplies. Lena spotted this cup and saucer on a shelf—delicate white with a circle of yellow flowers on both the cup and saucer.

She’d picked it up and caressed it, so struck by its beauty she could barely breathe.

“What’s the matter?” Johnson had asked.

Her throat too thick to speak at first, she shook her head and continued to clutch the cup and saucer.

Johnson watched her, waiting.

Finally she was able to force the words out. “It’s just so beautiful.” Reluctantly, she set it back on the shelf.

It wasn’t until they had returned home that Johnson handed her the cup and saucer. “You’ve earned it after all your hard work. And I bought myself a book for my reward.”

She’d taken it, uncertain why it tugged at her mind so much.

She poked through the ashes, damp with melting snow, hoping for more, but this fragment was all that remained of the beautiful cup and saucer she’d owned. She stroked the bit of china and wondered again why that particular cup and saucer had meant so much. Every time she looked at it she felt a burst of joy. She could almost feel someone—

She tucked the fragment in her pocket.

A memory hovered so close she could almost grasp it.

She waited, wanting to remember.

It came like a clap of thunder, and her eyes stung with tears. Her chest tightened.

She must have been four.

Her mother and father had been seated at the table having tea, laughing and talking together, when she stepped into the room. Her mother had looked up and said, “Come, love, and join us.”

And Lena had sat on a chair between them as her mother set before her a cup and saucer and poured her tea, diluting it with milk.

The cup and saucer had been white china with a ring of yellow flowers, like the one she’d found in the store.

Her mother had kissed her cheek and offered her a cookie.

Her father had called her his little princess.

Their love had surrounded her.

And then they were gone, her mother first and then her father, leaving her to face a lonely existence.

Tears clogged her nose and she took several deep breaths to stop the quivering that began deep inside.

She stared at the bright sky, promising herself she would never love again. It hurt too much. It wasn’t worth the risk. Even if the offer of love came with no strings attached, like the love Anker offered. Oh, he’d never said he loved her in so many words, but he showed it in his actions, his gentle, kind words, and his looks. She read the unspoken confession when he said they didn’t need to dissolve the marriage when spring came.

Realization shot through her and she grasped the stove for support.

She loved Anker.

But she didn’t want to. She wouldn’t allow herself to do so. Loving made her vulnerable. Made her open to bitter disappointment. She wanted only to have her life defined by work and freedom from indebtedness.

She would not love him.

As she straightened, something rolled under her foot. She bent to pick up an amber and green ball of molten glass. She had no idea what it had been originally. Light flashed through the glass as she turned it around and round in her hand. Its shape was uneven, yet it contained no sharp edges. She held it to the light and saw an amber star shape embedded in the center. She dropped it in her pocket along with the bit of china.

Deciding she had seen enough of the shattered remains of her home, she stepped over the puddles and hurried to the barn. She thought of setting up a household here until she could rebuild. But why not rebuild immediately? She had the skills after helping Johnson. She snorted. What she lacked was the means. She had no supplies. No money.

She walked the edges of the fields. She had no horse to pull the plow so she could plant the crop, but perhaps she could hire it done on shares.

She had to manage. She had to end this temporary marriage to Anker as quickly as possible. While she could walk away from him without weakening. If she stayed now after admitting to herself that she loved him . . . She wrapped her arms around her stomach and pressed hard . . . She could not let him guess how she felt. Nor allow anything to give away her feelings.

The sound of a wagon approaching warned her Anker had returned. She steeled herself to hide her feelings toward him. The effort made her insides twang with a combination of fear, alarm, and sweet acknowledgement.

“Mama,” Charlie called, as Anker pulled the wagon to her side.

Anker’s blue eyes revealed concern and lots more besides—happiness to see her again, and hope. Always she saw his endless hope, only now it caused a swift response in her heart that she struggled to contain.

She smiled, letting none of her feelings reveal themselves in her gaze.

Anker jumped down and helped her to the seat. Charlie chattered away like an excited bird. She understood little of what he said but welcomed the diversion. Finally, he quieted.

“How was your afternoon?” Anker asked.

She told him how she had toured her farm. “I can salvage the stove.” Sucking in a huge, courage-giving breath of spring air, she announced, “I made a few plans. I intend to rebuild.”

She felt his shock and disappointment. But he only nodded. “How do you plan to do that?”

“I haven’t worked out the details yet.” Apart from having decided to return, she had worked out nothing more.

Over the next few days, she sketched out plans for a tiny house. Even smaller than the one she and Johnson had built. But then, she and Johnson had big plans for a family and expansion. Now she only wanted her own place and shelter as she ran her farm. She carefully counted out the board feet she would need, the area of shingles. She would also need supplies. Thankfully, she had seed in the barn and equipment. Though no horse.

She tapped the pencil on the paper and considered her options.

Anker sat in the living room. Whenever she pulled out the papers to work on her plans, he left the kitchen. He spent more and more time outdoors but with the warmer weather, she understood that. He had fences to repair, rocks to pick, and his farm equipment to get in order. She often saw him going to his herd of horses and walking amongst them.

The sooner she got back to her farm, the sooner she could get to work. And the easier it would be to put aside this uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach every time he came in the house. She had learned to sidestep when he reached for her. Not because she didn’t want him to pull her to his side, but because of how much she wanted it. She realized it would take very little to lose her resolve and offer to stay.

The mere thought of it filled her with a whirlwind of confusion. She did not trust life—or was it God? To love was to invite more pain, more owing, more losing, more aching. Her insides quivered at the thought.

Better to stick to her plans.

She picked up the list she’d created and reluctantly went to Anker’s side. “Can I ask you a favor?”

He lowered his paper and looked at her with wariness.

She faltered only a heartbeat. She didn’t want to hurt him, but there seemed no other way she could handle this. “When are you going to town again?”

“I agreed to go see a man about some mares. I thought to do that soon. Why?”

“I need lumber to rebuild.” Did he plan to ride his horse? If so she couldn’t ask him to take her. “I’m going to ask Mr. Lowe for a loan.” The request coming from a woman would be unusual, but perhaps he would find it in his heart to allow it. “I need a ride to town.”

“I see.” His tone indicated disapproval. “Very well. I’ll take you tomorrow and see about those horses at the same time.”

“Thank you.” Her finger traced the rough edges of the bit of china in her pocket. She pulled it out.

“What’s that?” Anker asked.

“Something I found in the ashes of my house.” She showed it to him. “It’s all that’s left of a cup and saucer I had.”

Neither spoke for several heartbeats.

“I’m sorry it’s gone.”

“Everything I ever cared about has been taken away.” Thinking of Charlie, she shuddered. “I almost lost Charlie too, when I was cutting hay. I could never love again.” She couldn’t go on for the tightness in her throat.

For a long while, neither spoke then Anker began, his voice low and calm. “Lena, I am sorry about your losses. It seems you have had more than most, and I understand why you are afraid to love again. I am most sorry for that.” He paused. “But this one thing I know, and you can count on it too. In spite of all this, God loves you. I know no matter what happens, He will always love you. No matter what, I believe in God’s love. I believe in His promises. He says, ‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.’“

Lena wished she could believe as easily as he did.

They again fell into silence.

“Perhaps God uses circumstances to shape us for His good purposes.”

Angry words rushed to her mind. “How could something good come of losing my loved ones or being Mrs. Miller’s servant?”

“Are matters of the heart any more difficult for God who rules the universe to handle than asking Him for rain in season? Do not fear the hand of the Lord, for at His hand are pleasures forevermore.”

Her anger died, replaced by a deep hunger. She curled her hands tightly, enclosing the bit of broken china. She wished it was otherwise, but she was afraid to trust God in this matter. She could trust Him for other things, but not for the courage to love again.“If God really cares for me, He will let me get back to my farm and start over.” She did not want to hurt him, but she could see no other way out of this predicament she had landed in.

“Unless He is trying to do something new and better for you.” His voice conveyed both gentleness and a touch of hardness. She understood that he thought she was being stubborn.

When she didn’t answer, he pushed to his feet and strode out the door without a backward look.