She carried his things to her room and pulled a portmanteau from beneath her bed. The leather case had been a gift from her grandparents for her last birthday. At the time the gift was given, Lucy had wondered if they wished she would use it to come visit them more often, or if they hoped she would experience memorable adventures.
Regardless of the reason, she was grateful for the gift and the finely crafted case. She set Theo’s things inside it, then packed her clothes, comb, and hairpins into it. She added her Bible and the jewelry tools she kept in her desk—in case any repairs were needed while she was at the farm—along with her journal.
“Did you get everything?” Theo asked as he skipped into her room, his bird whistle in hand, although he hadn’t yet added water to it.
“I did, Theo. Remember, Papa said to leave your whistle here,” she said, tapping him on his freckled nose.
“I remember,” he said, then shuffled across the hall to his room and set his whistle on the small table by his bed that held an assortment of his special treasures.
“Come on,” Lucy said, holding out a hand to him. “Grandpapa will surely arrive soon.”
They returned downstairs, and Lucy had just tucked her design journal into her bag when their grandfather arrived.
He came not to the front door of the shop, but the back, quietly tapping on the open door.
“Father!” Cleta exclaimed, clearly pleased to see him. She gave him a hug while tugging him inside the already-warm kitchen.
Theo nearly danced a circle around them, eager to greet their grandfather.
Even though his hair was thinning and turning white, Lucy thought the man with a tall, straight bearing appeared in good health and good spirits as he hugged Cleta again, then swung Theo up into the air as though he weighed no more than a little babe.
“Hi, Grandpapa!” Theo wrapped his arms around John Danvers and gave him a tight hug.
“You’re growing like a sapling on a riverbank, Theodore. It’s grand to set eyes on you,” their grandfather said as he set Theoon his feet, then turned to Lucy. “Lucy, love, you get prettier every time I see you. Is your father having to run off the young men with threats of grave harm?”
Lucy laughed and hugged her grandfather. “Not at all, sir. Your words are most kind, and much appreciated, even if your opinion of me may be overly polished.”
Her grandfather chuckled. “Nonsense.”
“Come, Father,” Cleta said, pulling out a chair at the table. “Sit and have something to eat before you go. Will you stay for dinner?”
“I don’t see why not. We’ll have to leave right after the meal, though. I can wait to eat, but I would sure appreciate a drink to wash away the dust from the road.”
Three hours later, they were on their way to the farm, located a few miles outside of Philadelphia.
Although it wasn’t a far journey, it wasn’t one Lucy’s family often made. The shop kept them busy, and her grandparents had their own work to attend to. Once a month during the summer season, John Danvers loaded his big wagon with produce from their huge garden and brought it into town to sell to a stall at the market that purchased goods from various people in the area. They paid a fair price for the produce, and her grandfather said it was better to let them sell it at a higher profit than him having to sit in the heat and peddle his vegetables all day.
Theo hadn’t stopped talking since they had climbed into the wagon, asking questions and making comments as he sat between Lucy and their grandfather on the high wooden seat.
When John looked over at Lucy and winked, she knew he found as much pleasure in Theo’s endless chatter as she did. The little boy was so excited to spend time at the farm, he could hardly contain his enthusiasm.
Lucy watched her grandmother hurry outside the white two-story house where Cleta had been raised. She could envision hermother with her brother, David, racing to the house after a day outside helping in the fields, full of teasing and laughter. Lucy’s uncle David had died five years ago in a tragic wagon accident in town. His wife and children had died the following winter when they had come down with smallpox. They were all so very much missed.
Unwilling to let grief steal her joy, Lucy set the thoughts aside. Today was about enjoying life and the living.
“Grandmama!” Theo shouted, waving his hand in greeting as they neared the house.
The moment the wagon rolled to a stop, Lucy swung down and gave her grandmother a hug, breathing in the lavender scent she always associated with the woman.
“Oh, gracious! I’m so glad you’re here. Both of you,” Katherine said, stepping back just enough to include Theo in their hug. She removed his hat, ruffled his hair, then kissed his forehead. “You’ve grown so much I hardly recognize you, Theodore. Did the fairies bring you an elixir for growth?”
Theo giggled and shook his head. “No, Grandmama. Papa says sunshine, hard work, and good food are all anyone needs to grow.”
“I agree, only I would add in a dash of faith, a spoonful of hope, and a bucket of prayer.” Katherine cupped Theo’s chin and smiled at him, then slipped an arm around Lucy’s waist. “Come inside. I want to hear all the news from town. Your mother’s last letter mentioned a young man coming around the shop, but she didn’t share his name or any details. I would love to hear more.”
Annoyed her mother had shared anything about Branch with her grandmother, Lucy decided to save that topic of conversation for later. “Mother said you’ve painted inside, Grandmama. I can’t wait to see everything. Did you choose gray, tan, or cream for the hall?”
While Lucy accompanied her grandmother inside, Theo ran back to the wagon and took the basket of treats their mother had sent along while their grandfather retrieved Lucy’s portmanteau.
