A bounty of weeds fought vegetables in the garden for space, and a scraggly rosebush by the porch wouldn’t last another week if someone didn’t water it. Hope Ladley reckoned this was the right place to stop. God had a habit of sending her where folks needed a helping hand, and this farm practically shouted her name.“Whoa.” She didn’t bother to pull back on the reins, for her mule never stepped lively enough to require more than a simple command. Hope jumped down from her two-wheel cart, gave Hattie an appreciative pat, and called out, “Anybody home?” She grabbed a sizable stack of envelopes and headed toward the house.An obviously pregnant woman stepped out onto the front porch and shut the screen door with one hand while rubbing her lower back with the other. “You be a good girl,” she said to a child on the other side. “I’m going to talk to someone for a minute.”Hope tucked the envelopes into the pocket of her apron and murmured, “Lord, I do my best to serve you, but you gotta remember the onliest things I ever helped with a birthing had four legs.”The woman shuffled out from under the porch awning and lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the blazing sun.
