Ambrose’s last words of love to her. Such a good man. A man ruled by love. Of the Lord. Of her. Of country. He’d given his life for that country.She could no longer deny the truth of that as she had tried to do for so long. He was buried on a plantation in the South. Carlyn would never plant flowers on his grave as a widow should. She held the locket up against her cheek and wet it with tears.The bell signaling the noon meal jerked Carlyn back to the present. She stared around at Elder Derron’s office as though seeing it for the first time. The tall windows. The desk with inkwell and pen waiting. The pegs on the railing circling the room. The chair hung on those pegs with the legs pointed toward the ceiling. Sister Edna must have hung her chair on its pegs before she left the room. Sister Edna. She would be waiting in the hallway, tapping her foot with impatience.Carlyn carefully folded the letters and secreted them in her pocket along with the locket. Whatever the rules, she would not part with Ambrose’s last missive to her.
