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Lou’s lips twitched. “Ah, it’s going to be like that, is it?” Maggie, feigning absorption in the bank statements currently swimming before her eyes, didn’t reply. “All right.” Lou relaxed further into her chair. “Well, Sarah was very soft. Kind. She and Teddy were well-matched in that way, although of course Mother said that Ted needed to be firmer. If he was harder, she’d want him to be softer. It’s unwinnable.” Her smile looked pained. “Sarah knew my parents liked her, so she would always try to be a little more boisterous when she was around them to draw attention away.”

“She sounds very thoughtful.” Maggie suspected going down this line of conversation would awaken something ugly inside of her, something jealous and sharp, but she meant what she had said. Sarah sounded kind, and she was glad that Theo had experienced that kindness.

“She was. She was—” Lou cut herself off, looking up from her sewing and staring hard at the wall. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m remembering her right. It’s hard, when someone is gone, to not canonize them in your mind. She wasn’t perfect. I need to remind myself that she wasn’t perfect.”

“She hasn’t been gone for very long. Maybe it’s all right to think of her as perfect for a little while longer.”

Lou dropped her eyes to meet Maggie’s, letting a tentative smile appear on her face. “Maybe. Anyway, she was fun. And smart. She’d wanted to be a teacher before she met Theo, so she always had her nose in a book. She did sometimes take to lecturing us about whatever topic had last grabbed her attention. I suppose that could be trying, at times.” She looked pleased at having thought up one imperfect trait.

“Why didn’t she become a teacher?” Maggie gave up her charade and closed the accounting notebook before scooting her chair back to look at Lou.

“Theo didn’t want her to.” Lou laughed at Maggie’s face. “Don’t look like that. He wanted to take care of her so she wouldn’t have to worry about anything. It isn’t unusual.”

“It doesn’t sound like him.” Maggie immediately flushed, embarrassed at presuming to know him better than his own sister. “I mean, I don’t think.”

“Sarah’s family was … not rich, but they were well off. Better than us, certainly. They weren’t very supportive of the marriage when it happened, and he wanted to prove to them, I suppose, that she would never want for anything.”

“Except to attain her own goals.” Men were so predictable. Even Theo.

“He talked about it,” Lou said quietly, “after she died. How he felt like he’d failed her. She didn’t have long on this Earth, and he had deprived her of some happiness.”

“It sounds like he gave her quite a bit, as well.”

“He did. And she knew that.” Lou sighed. “I doubt I’ll ever marry, but being so close with them gave me some insight into it. And it’s hard, Maggie. David and Laura make it look easy but it’s hard.”

Bridgers’ voice echoed: It isn’t easy. “That’s what I understand.” She paused. Lou had never been this open before, and she didn’t want to make her clam up. “Why did your parents want to take Emmy away? You don’t have to answer,” she said quickly when her friend’s mouth twisted. “It really isn’t my concern. I’m just … Theo is so wonderful with her. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to separate them.”

Lou’s face tightened. “I can forgive them for most of the things they’ve done. They thought they were doing the best thing, pushing us to be better and to work harder. They wanted the best for us, even me. But when Sarah died, Theo was…” She blew out a breath. “It was so unexpected. She was so happy her entire confinement. She was glowing. You hear that, sometimes, about expectant mothers, but she really was glowing. She was excited to be a mother, and Theo doted on her. He made up the nursery, spoke to every doctor and midwife he could find about what to do when the time came, waited on her hand and foot.” She swallowed. “She lost too much blood. We don’t know what went wrong. She was perfectly well in the afternoon and by the evening, she was gone. Emmy surviving was a miracle, I think. And Theo didn’t … He didn’t handle it well.”

“So you said,” Maggie murmured. The visions were pouring in without invitation: Theo pale and panicking; Lou distraught; a small, wrinkled Emmy wailing. She pushed them out.

“He withdrew. He was in bed for weeks.” Lou tipped her chin up, ready for battle, and Maggie just raised her eyebrows.

“I imagine so,” she said. “Having just lost his wife and all.”

“Hmm.” Lou lowered her head, tapping her cheek thoughtfully. “Mother and Father came down to help, a little. But they were very hard on Theo. As soon as he was able to work again, to function and take over with Emmy, they made sure he knew how disappointed they were in how he handled himself.”

The anger flared up frighteningly quick, a flame of rage licking up Maggie’s front before settling in her chest. “Disappointed.”

“They told him if he didn’t shape up, they would take Emmy away. They wouldn’t have, really,” Lou added. “Jake would never have let them. He nearly squared up with my father when he said that.” She smiled. “We distanced ourselves more afterward. Visits are rare, which is why this one was such a surprise.” Her smile faded. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.” She went back to her sewing, the subject clearly closed.

Maggie had a vague idea about the dynamics of the Barrow siblings from her interactions with them, from David’s general protectiveness to the exasperated affection between Theo and Jake and the wary snappishness of Lou, but now she saw it clearly: four hurt people, banding together to protect one another.

Maggie knew the feeling well. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Lou glanced up, pausing, fixing Maggie with a stern, long look. She gave a slight nod. “You’re welcome.”

The village, while small, was the largest near St. Cloud, and the orphanage housed all the children from the surrounding towns. The number was thankfully low, but the need for an entire orphanage still pulled at Maggie’s chest. The Methodist church owned the building and left the day-to-day running of it to volunteers, directed by whoever lorded over the area’s pastors. Maggie was surprised by how sprawling the interior was when she arrived to drop off the requested clothing. It had been a simple order, as small people required small shirts and dresses, and since she had never once volunteered to help with these parentless children she had given Sam a significant discount. She carried the armful of garments through the corridor, silently following the chattering woman leading the way. A Mrs. Broadshear, who was married to the pastor of the neighboring village, Lancaster, was one of the full-time volunteers at the orphanage. She was a loud, vivacious woman who clearly adored her charges, although she made a remarkable number of tutting sounds when she saw one doing something they oughtn’t.

“And how many children are here, exactly, Mrs. Broadshear?” Maggie asked as she passed through yet another doorway before plopping the clothes into the bin her guide indicated.

“Call me Agatha, please. And twenty-two currently.” Agatha beamed even brighter, as if nothing could delight her more than children surrounding her. “We had fifty-three at one point, but many of them found families.”

“That’s wonderful,” Maggie said, and it was.

The lady’s smile softened. “God is good.”

“So I hear.” Maggie put her hands on her hips and let out a breath. “Well, Agatha, thank you for the, er, tour. Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do in the future.”