Sophie sat propped up by pillows all hours of the day and night now. It was the only way she could breathe. Her ankles and feet had swollen to three times their normal size, but the quilt covered them from view, protecting her fragile hold on dignity. The foxglove plant did not work as well anymore. And if Sophie took more, she felt nauseous and didn’t eat. So Riel’s aunt had decided to continue her original foxglove regimen. The alternative would only hasten her death.Right now, Sophie’s eyes flickered open and she appeared to be listening. This encouraged Lucinda to read on. When she paused to turn the page, Lucinda heard the front door close, and then the butler’s voice in the hall. Then the rumble of a deep, accented voice.Lucinda bolted to her feet. Riel!She ran out of the room, Bible still in hand. Riel. In the flesh, talking to George, the butler. Lucinda went very still and her eyes drank him in. Joy and relief washed through her. He stood larger than life. As always, bigger than she remembered.
