I could still answer Grace’s question. “Yes.” I nodded. “I do love it, and I hope to keep going as long as it makes sense.”
“Perhaps,” Mama said as Julia’s children pounded on the floors above our heads, “someday, you’ll get married and want to leave it all behind to have a family of your own.”
I glanced at the ceiling, then gave her a look. “Perhaps. I don’t think I’ll have six children, though.”
Mama and Grace smiled, and then Mama came to the table and placed her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “I’m sure your other mother, Maggie, has already told you this, but no matter what Lydia decides or what God has planned for her, it will work out. It doesn’t mean it will be easy or that it won’t be painful, but it does mean that God will faithfully walk the road with her and with you. I can’t imagine all the wonderful things she’ll do with her unique life.”
“I take comfort in that truth.” Grace patted Mama’s hand. “God has been faithful to walk beside me, as well.”
Mama looked up at me, her eyes soft and tender. “And the same goes for you, Ally. No matter what you face, the choices you must make, or the hardships you must endure, know that God loves you and will be with you through it all. It might not always feel thatway, but that’s why He gave us His Word, so that even when our feelings fail us, His promises never do.”
I nodded, thankful I had Mama and Grace and others who had walked this time-crossing journey before me and alongside me.
“How are things going in 1849?” Mama asked.
I was happy to finally tell her about my trip to the goldfield. “They’re good. We left the Sacramento River and are now on mules making our way to the South Yuba River.”
“And how is Sam?” Grace asked, concern wedging between her brows.
“I learned the truth about his past,” I replied.
“Oh?” Mama crossed her arms.
“Bess is the one who killed her husband, and Sam took the blame for it.” I quickly explained to them what had happened, and by the time I was done, both had the same look of sadness on their faces.
“Why do some people have to suffer so much?” I asked.
“I don’t know, Ally.” Mama sighed. “Some questions are harder than others, and that’s one of the toughest of them all. If there was an easy answer, humanity wouldn’t wrestle with that one, would they?”
“The Bible tells us that suffering produces endurance,” Grace said, “and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope never puts us to shame. We were made to be resilient, and when we’ve come through whatever trouble we’re in, we’re stronger, wiser, and better than when we started—but only if we allow ourselves to grow. Therein lies the difference.”
“Two people could endure the same thing,” Mama agreed, “but their attitude and outlook on it, and the purpose behind it, will determine who they are at the end.”
I wasn’t sure what kind of man Sam had been before everything happened, but he was good and kind and sacrificial now. Had his trials and sufferings produced that in him?
“Sam loved Bess very much.” I took another pea pod. “And love gives us the power to overcome a lot.”
“Was he still in love with Bess when you met them?” Grace asked.
“I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “He told me they had become family, but I think any romantic love he had for her was in the past.”
I didn’t tell them what Sam had said about true love. Or how it had made me feel.
The entire family was seated, waiting for Papa to say the mealtime blessing when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” I said as I rose from the table to answer the door.
Spencer stood at the door, dressed in a nice suit with his hair combed into a pompadour. Even though we spent every day together, it still made my heart skip a beat to see him standing on my front porch unexpected.
He grinned, his eyes shining. “Hello, Ally. Your mother said I had an open invitation. I hope I’m not intruding. Gee, it smells amazing. Is that roast beef?”
“Of course you’re not intruding. I’m happy you came.” I opened the door wider and put out my hand for his hat.
“Have you made a decision?” he asked, handing me his fedora.
I let out a breath. He’d asked me the same question every day since we’d met with Mr. Mayer.
“No, and you need to be quiet,” I whispered.
