Her attention shot to the fireplace.
Had the same person who left the warning also doused her fire?
The chill grew into a tremor from her toes to her head.
She'd known warnings. Seen them back home in the mountains. And if folks in the flatlands kept to any sort of mountain rules, these warnings were never to be taken lightly.
Ever.
She slammed the door and bolted it shut.
What should she do?
Her first instinct was to take the gig to the Morgan house and tell Charles, but … well, he didn't want her to cause trouble with his mother. But surely, when it involved her and Charlie's safety, he'd make an exception?
Doubt crowded out the idea.
Her gaze lifted to the wooden ceiling, the tremble in her body taking on a voice. “Help me? I know I don't deserve it, but … please?”
She paused, thinking. Hoping. Praying, even though she doubted God listened to her. Her breaths pulsed shallow. How would her own mama advise her?
Tell somebody youtrust.
Joshua and Nella. They'd be closer.
No, she needed to tell the one person who was supposed to help her, because he'd know what to do.
She wrapped Charlie in a blanket, rushed for her coat, and ran out the back door toward the barn and her buggy.
And, hopefully, she wasn't riding into a bigger problem than the one she was leaving behind.
Chapter 5
THEMORGAN HOUSE STOOD INthe center of a field, trees lining the drive to the expansive white Victorian. A covered porch wrapped around the front, encompassing a rounded edge where a turret room rose above the rest of the roofing.
The first time Kizzie had walked up to the residence, over a year ago, she'd thought of castles and fair damsels and knighted men, like from the old ballads her mama and granny sang. And still, even now, as the buggy approached, the beauty of the place stirred her mind in a fanciful direction.
She'd only imagined a world like the one within those walls when she lived in her family's cabin in the mountains—dreamed of a place with fresh linen coverlets and delicate china plates of rosebud prints. Of silk gowns and slippers.
Of love.
She frowned as the memories crowded one over the other, reality creeping through the daydreams like a haint of the forest, stealing each sweet dream and twisting it into a type of nightmare.
She looked down at Charlie.
Except her babe. Her smile tempted release as one of her mama's phrases slipped into her heartache like a balm.
Somehow, even in the middle of broken dreams, God touches the raw, painful remnants with a teensy bit of stardust.
Could it be that despite Kizzie's wrong choices, here lay a reminder of how good could still find a way? That hope still persevered?
Her heart shivered beneath the idea, teasing her thoughts toward a revelation she didn't quite grasp yet. Or maybe one she couldn't truly believe.
She kissed the top of Charlie's fuzzy head and brought Daisy to a stop just within the tree line. The notion of parading her buggy all the way up to the front door, as if she were a welcome guest, didn't sit too well with her.
Charles probably wouldn't like it at all.
Drawing her shawl closer around her shoulders, Kizzie steeled herself against retreat and marched across the open space toward the house. The wind blew an icy wave against her face, perhaps in warning? She faltered at the base of the porch steps. Should she turn around and go to Nella instead?
