Oakbridge. The very word meant family and pleasant memories. It was odd, Carolina thought, how time away had caused her to set aside all of the bad memories and choose only the good ones. “There it is!” Brenton declared. “I see the white pillars.” He was right. Through the trees in the distance, Carolina could just make out the glittering white marble. How happy she was for the late and lengthy summer weather. The trees had not even begun to lose their leaves, and the ground was still richly carpeted in green. The plantation looked gloriously clothed, like an aristocratic lady in all of her elegant finery. Carolina felt her breath catch in her throat. Soon. Very soon she would be back in the embrace of her childhood home. Soon she would know the contentment of her little-girl imagery and memories that had fueled her through the lengthy trip from Greigsville. “It won’t be long now,” she told Miriam and the children. “Papa will have the carriage waiting for us just ahead.”
