LITMIR.BIZ

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orange-gold sphere easing its way behind the trees and putting the farm in a majestic glow as it dipped. She took a few steps out of the barn into the open air, turned her head toward the direction where she knew the sun was setting and imagined seeing it again. The vision was beautiful; she knew that. And that should be enough. She shouldn’t have to see it to know.

      She merely had to remember.

      But memories of sunsets brought back memories of Landon Cutter. How many sunsets had they viewed together growing up? And how many times had she felt a little hint that there might have been more between them than friendship? Why hadn’t she acted on that? And why had he waited until that day in the church to tell her that he did feel something? And, more important than any other question, why hadn’t she simply told him how she felt instead of running away?

      She heard a horse nicker in the distance, and it didn’t seem to come from the fields, so she tilted her head and listened again.

      “Mom, don’t you wanna come in and get ready to go to town?” Abi called, causing all of Georgiana’s attention to turn toward the house, where the sound of her daughter’s feet grew louder as she quickly progressed across the yard.

      If Georgiana hadn’t run away from Landon at the church back then, she wouldn’t have her daughter. And even if that meant she was now blind, she wouldn’t take anything for the extraordinary little girl that held her heart. “Hey, sweetie. I wanted to wait until the sun set. Then I’ll come in and get ready.”

      Abi bounded into her mother, her arms wrapping around Georgiana’s waist in a bear hug. “Okay, I’ll watch it with you,” she said happily. “Then we’ll go to town.”

      Georgiana smiled, squatted down to Abi’s level. She ran her palm along her daughter’s soft curls, the ones that were supposedly the exact same shade as Georgiana’s. How she’d love to see her little girl’s red hair, or her smile—Pete’s wide dashing smile, she’d been told—or her eyes, which were apparently hazel like Georgiana’s.

      “It doesn’t take too long to set, does it?” Abi asked. “’Cause I’m ready to go find you a new dress for my recital. It’s in three weeks. That’s what Mrs. Camp said.”

      The other children had been practicing for the recital all summer, while Abi had stayed with Pete. She would be the newest student with Mrs. Camp, but Georgiana’s gung ho little girl didn’t want to wait for the winter recital to show off her new skills. And she expected her mom to be at her first recital, naturally. Abi had taken lessons in Tampa, but they were given at a school that didn’t do recitals for beginner students. Here, where Mrs. Camp gave all lessons in her home, a recital occurred for all levels every quarter. It was a pretty big deal for the kids.

      Georgiana remembered how excited she’d always been to show her parents what she’d learned at each of her recitals. Mrs. Camp would make cookies and have punch for the kids, coffee and tea for the adults. And everyone dressed up for the event. Mrs. Camp had apparently described how the process worked to Abi, and now Georgiana’s little angel had decided that all three of them, Abi, her grandma and her mother, needed new dresses for the big event. Abi and Eden had already purchased their outfits for the occasion, and tonight they planned to get one for Georgiana too.

      “Three weeks is plenty of time to find a dress for me,” Georgiana said. “We could wait till another night if you want.” She had no desire to leave the farm, not tonight—or ever—but she had to for Abi, somehow.

      “No, Mom, you promised we’d go tonight. And you said you’d let me pick it out. Remember? And we’re going to get some candy at that candy store Grandma told us about too, remember?”

      “I remember.” The Sweet Stop. The old-fashioned candy shop had been Georgiana’s favorite store on the square growing up. Well, that and the Tiny Tots Treasure Box, the local toy store. She did want to take her daughter there, but she wished that there wasn’t such a drastic possibility of her running into half of Claremont when they went to the square. On a late summer night this cool, this comfortable, everyone would want to enjoy the beauty of town.

      God, let the place be uncommonly deserted.

      “So, does it take long for the sun to set?” Abi continued. “I’m really ready to go to town.”

      “No, it doesn’t. In fact, it should be heading behind the trees now, if Fallon’s timing is still spot-on.” Resolved that there was no way she could get out of going to the square, Georgiana slid her hand into Abi’s and stood. “Is that where the sun is, going behind the trees?”

      “Yep, that’s where it is,” Abi said. “Well, almost. It sure does take its time, huh?”

      “Yes,” Georgiana said, gently squeezing Abi’s hand, “it does.” Then she heard the horse in the distance again. “Abi, do you hear...”

      “Hey!” Abi yelled. “Mom, there’s a guy on a horse up there. He’s waving.”

      Georgiana’s arm jerked as Abi apparently used her other hand to wave back. “A guy on a horse?”

      “Yep, and I think he’s coming to see us. Yep, yep, he is.”

      “What does he look like, Abi?” A guy on a horse? If Abi was waving in the direction that it seemed, then the guy was on the ridge, probably coming from the direction of the Cutter farm. Georgiana’s mother had said John Cutter was running the farm now and that he’d been in charge ever since their mother died after Landon joined the army. And John was supposedly raising their younger brother, Casey. So this guy on the horse could be John or Casey. “Is he older, Abi? A man? Or is he a boy, you know, like a teenager?”

      “He’s a man,” Abi said. “A cowboy, with a real cowboy hat and everything. And a pretty horse. Not as pretty as Fallon, but a pretty brown horse. A lot like Fallon though, except Fallon is gold and white, and this one is brown and black.”

      A pretty brown-and-black horse. “Sam?”

      “What?” Abi asked.

      “Nothing, honey. So the man is coming this way?” She knew he was. She could hear the horse’s hooves clopping against the earth as the “cowboy” evidently came off the mountain and crossed the field. He moved slowly, judging from the sound of the horse’s gait, and Georgiana used his slow arrival to gain her composure.

      God, I asked You to help me not run into anyone I know tonight when I go to town. Did I need to ask that I not run into anyone before we go to town? Is this John? Or little Casey? Last time I saw Casey he’d been ten. He’d be eighteen now. Goodness, he’s a man too, isn’t he? And God, if it is either of them, please keep them from telling Landon that I’m blind.

      Georgiana cleared her throat. There had been a few instances over the past few years where she was able to fool people into thinking she could see. Her eyes didn’t look any different than normal according to her doctors. She simply had to concentrate on where to direct her attention or find a way to avoid eye contact. She could pull that off until John or Casey was gone, surely.

      Stay with me, Lord.

      “Hey!” Abi said again. “I like your horse.”

      “Thanks,” the deep baritone answered. A familiar baritone that sent a ripple of awareness over Georgiana’s entire body. “Her name’s Sam.”

      “That’s a funny name for a girl,” Abi said, while Georgiana focused on keeping her balance. Her knees suddenly felt weak. Head started to swim. And if she really wanted to, she could totally throw up. Her stomach pitched enough, for sure.

      “Yeah, well, it’s short for Samantha,” he said, a light chuckle in his words. The chuckle that used to make Georgiana laugh automatically in response. He didn’t say anything for a second then said, “Hello, Georgiana.” He paused. “Georgie.”

      Landon. Not John. Not Casey. But Landon. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. And hearing him call her by the nickname that’d been his alone sent a tremor down her spine.

      “Mom?”

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