Sage hummed a favorite melody, pausing to listen to the meadowlarks call for a moment before turning the eggs in the skillet. She couldn’t seem to keep from smiling, for the events of the night before—the moments spent with Reb in the firelight of the parlor—kept floating through her mind. It seemed as though the pain she had cried for the day before was somewhere off in the distant past. All she could think of now was the fact Reb had waited for hours and hours to apologize to her. She smiled as a robin suddenly alighted on the windowsill of the open window. “Did you smell the bacon too?” she asked it. “I can’t believe Miss Rosie is still asleep. Bacon usually wakes her the moment it hits the skillet.” “I think Reb’s herd is here!” Eugenia said, rushing into the kitchen and to the open window, causing the robin to take flight. “Listen, Sage.” Sage paused and tried to hear something above the sizzle of bacon cooking.
