She appeared in front of the door leading to the porch.

“He carved our initials into a stone. He showed me. Initials inside a heart in the stone. He put it into the wall, so it would last forever, and no one would know but the two of us.”

“What was his name?” Hope asked.

“He’s Billy. My Billy. I was riding, and went past where I was permitted, alone. Down to the stream, and he was there, fishing on a Sunday afternoon. He should not have been, and I should not have been. A brisk March afternoon, and the water in the stream pushing through the thawing ice.”

Lizzy closed her eyes as if looking back. “I could smell spring trying to break through winter, yet snow still lay in the shadows. The sky was winter gray, and the wind still bitter.”

Opening her eyes, she smiled. “But he was there, and it was no longer cold. I should never have spoken to him, nor he to me. But we knew as if we had always known. A look, a word, and hearts opened. Like in the novels Cathy would read me, and I would laugh at love at first sight.”

Hope wanted to speak, to interrupt. His name, just his name. But didn’t have the heart.

“We met when I could get away, and loved the rest of that cold March, into the blooming spring and to the lushness of summer.”

She held out a hand toward Hope. “You know. All of you know what it is to feel so strongly for someone. He worked with his hands, not with wood, as your loves do, but stone. This alone would make him unworthy in my father’s eyes. We knew it.”

“Did your father find out?” Hope asked.

“He would never believe or suspect I would defy him in such a way. He chose a husband for me, and I refused when I had never refused him. At first, it was as if I hadn’t spoken. He simply continued with his plans for the marriage. I continued to refuse, but, in truth, I would have had no choice. And the war …”

She turned to Clare. “You understand what war does to those who fight it, and to those who are left behind to wait and fear. He said he must fight, must go, or have no honor. I begged, but in this he would not be swayed. We would leave together, marry, and I would stay with his family until he came back for me.”

“Where was his family?” Avery prompted.

“Here?” Lizzy’s fingers worked at the high collar of her dress as she looked around. “Near? It fades. His face is clear, his voice, his touch. Hard hands. Hard and strong. Ryder.”

“Yes,” Hope murmured. “Strong, hard hands. You eloped with Billy?”

“I could not. That very night my father signed my marriage contract. I should have remained silent, but I shouted at him, I raged. I thought of Billy going to war, and I raged at my father. I would never marry but for love. He could beat me, lock me away, throw me away, and still I would not do what he demanded of me. So he did lock me away, in my room. He struck me.”

As if that memory remained all too fresh, Lizzy touched her cheek. “My mother took to her bed, and he struck me again, and dragged me to my room, locked me in. I could not get out, could not get away. Three days and nights, my father kept me locked in my room with only bread and water. I did what I should have done before. I told him I would obey. I asked his forgiveness. I lied and lied, and I waited for my chance. I left that house and my family, my sister whom I loved, so much, in the dead of night with what I could carry. I took the train to Philadelphia. So afraid, so excited. Going to Billy. I traveled by coach. So hot. Such a hot summer. I was ill. I wrote … to his mother. I think. It fades. I wrote, and I came here. He was here.”

“Billy came here?” Hope asked her.

“Near. He was coming. I could hear the cannon fire, but I was so ill. He was coming. He promised. I’m waiting.”

“Eliza, I need his name. His full formal name.” Hope got to her feet. “He was William.”

“No. He was Billy, but Joseph William. He would build us a house, with his own hands. Will your Ryder build you a house?”

“He has a house. Eliza—”

“And a dog. We would have dogs. I left my dogs and my home and my family. But we would have dogs and a home and make a family. I think I was with child.”

“Oh God,” Avery murmured.

“I think … Women know. Is that true?” she asked Clare.

“I think it is.”

“I never told him. I only began to know when I came here. Then the heat, and the sickness. And it fades. It’s too long.” She held out a hand they could see through. “It all fades.”

“Oh, don’t—” Hope began, but Lizzy faded away like her hand.

“Pregnant and alone and sick, while the man she loved went off to war.” Avery rose to crouch by Clare’s chair, lean her cheek on Clare’s hand.

“It wasn’t like that for me. I was never alone. I had family who loved me. But yes, I can understand how frightened she must have been, and God, how determined. To leave everything with only what she could carry, to come to a strange place—and to realize she was carrying a child.”

“Then to lie in bed, sick and dying, listening to cannon fire. He fought at Antietam,” Hope said. “I’m sure of it. He was near, and he was a soldier.”

“His family was near, too,” Avery reminded her. “And we’re not looking for a William, but a Joseph William. Maybe Williams? Would they have called him Billy?”

“I don’t know, but having a potential first and middle name, or a potential first and last, is going to help.”

“The longer she talked, or tried to, the less she was here. She was less and less defined as she talked to us.”

Hope nodded at Clare. “That happened before. It must have something to do with energy. Who the hell knows? I could start researching paranormal activities, hauntings, and so on, but that would take time away from trying to find Billy. That’s the priority.”

“I’ll let Owen know, and he’ll dive in, too. But she talked to us.” Avery took Clare’s hand as she straightened, reached for Hope’s. “She talked to all of us. She hasn’t had anyone she could tell her story to, all this time. All she wanted was Billy, a home, a family, a damn dog. I wish her father would make an appearance. I don’t know if you can punch a ghost, but I’d like to try.”

“For now, this is her home.” Hope sighed. “And we’re her family.”

“Beckett brought her out. I really believe that,” Avery said to Clare. “Something about him let her reach out. Maybe he reminded her of Billy. Maybe they all do—Owen and Ryder, too. She trusts them, cares about them. There’s a connection there, and maybe it’s more than how they rebuilt this place.”

“Yeah.” Hope frowned. “You’re right. There’s something—” She broke off when she heard the door open downstairs, and voices carry up. “Cleaning crew.”

“I need to get back to the store.” Clare levered herself up. “We should write all this down. I can do that. Maybe if it’s all written down, we’ll see something we missed in the telling.”

“I’ll start the search for Joseph William—or Williams—as soon as I can.” Hope led the way down.

“We should have a meeting. The six of us—and Justine if she wants.”

“I’m open tomorrow night. Can you get a sitter?”

“I’ll take care of it,” she told Hope. “Can we get together here? It may jump-start something.”

They stopped in The Lobby, chatted with the cleaning crew. When the phone rang, Hope waved her friends off.

With plans for the meeting working through her head, she braved the heat to go outside and weed. She thought better if her hands stayed busy.

They’d had a breakthrough, she was certain of it. Momentum would carry them the rest of the way.

And what then? she wondered. When they found Billy—discovered where he’d lived and died, how he’d died and when—what would that mean to Lizzy?

She’d never had a chance, Hope thought, not really. And just as she’d believed her life would begin, it had ended. Yet her spirit remained faithful, compassionate, had humor and affection.

And love, she thought. The love just shone in her.

They’d have had a good life together, she mused. That stone house, that family, those dogs. However young she’d been, however tragic, she’d known what she wanted, and she’d grabbed for it.

And what do you want? Hope asked herself.

Her hands stilled as her own question surprised her. She had what she wanted. Didn’t she?

A job she loved, friends she treasured, family she could count on whenever she needed it. A lover she cared for and enjoyed.

It was enough, just as she’d told Ryder. It was more than enough.

Yet something niggled at her, something inside her that wanted to stretch for more.

Don’t spoil it, she warned herself. Don’t start piling on expectations. Take it all as it comes, and be happy now.

She stepped back as Carolee pulled in, and went through the arch to meet her at her car.

“I’m loaded!” Carolee announced.

“And I’m here to help.”

“So’s she.” Carolee gestured as Justine pulled in. “She’s been behind me the last mile and a half. Good timing,” Carolee called out. “Grab a bag and haul it in.”

Justine, wearing sandals with rainbows for straps and sugary pink sunglasses, flexed her biceps. “I’ve got the power. Jesus please us, it’s freaking hot.”

“I’d hoped that storm last night would cool things off.” Carolee reached in, pulled out a skid of toilet paper. “No such luck.”

“Took down a branch as big and wide as Willy B and dropped it across my lane. I had to get the damn chain saw.”

“You ran a chain saw.” Hope gaped at her.

“Honey, I can run a chain saw, a wood splitter, and whatever else you toss at me. If I have to. One of the boys would’ve done it, but I wasn’t calling them away from work when I could do it myself.”

“I can run a Weedwacker.” Carolee laughed as they hauled supplies inside. “But I’ve lived in town for decades and Justine in the woods. Remember how Mama thought Tommy was all but taking you to a foreign country when he bought up that land?”