Prologue

July 1st, 1879

“Mama, I’m scared.”

Sophia Clark lingered in the doorway of her son’s bedroom, looking at her little boy tucked in among the tattered quilts of his bed. Elijah, only three years old, met her gaze with a fearful one. His eyes were the size of saucers. Sophia walked over to him and kissed his forehead tenderly, thinking how lucky she was that God had brought her husband Elias, and her son into her life.

‘Don’t be afraid, Elijah,” she said, sitting beside him on the bed and gently stroking his hair. “Daddy will get better in a few days, you’ll see.”

All she could do was pray that it was true and that God would grant her the strength she needed for her son’s’ sake. Ten days ago, Elias had fallen from a horse after it had been spooked by a snake, leaving him bedbound, his femur broken so badly that the town doctor was not sure if he would ever walk without a limp again. And that was even if he recovered. For as long as she lived, Sophia knew that she would never forget the horror that had taken over her when she saw Elias lying on the makeshift stretcher of boards, moaning and incoherent with pain, his leg purpling and swelling to nearly three times its size. Fear had burrowed into her ever since

Elijah’s little hand found hers, fingers tentatively squeezing. She welcomed the touch; it reminded her that it wasn’t that terrible day again, that she was here, tucking in her son. Sophia then wrapped one of her arms around him. Elijah leaned his head into her side.

“Do you want me to tell you a story?” Sophia asked, then felt her son nod.

“Alright, then.” She turned to meet his eyes and although she smiled at him it wasn’t one that she quite felt was real. “Once there was a little turtle, and he was a very good turtle. He went to church every day, and loved God with all his heart. He was a helpful little soul, and whenever the other animals around him in the forest were suffering, he always found ways to be there for them. But… His helpfulness came at a price.”

“Whuh?” chirped Elijah.

Sophia shook her head sadly. “He was very, very lonely!”

Elijah pouted and sniffled but without any real sadness.

Sophia took this as a sign of encouragement and continued, “Every day, he prayed that a nice girl turtle would come into his life, so he could have a turtle family filled with little turtles just as sweet as you!”

She tickled him until he was squealing with delight. Sophia continued, grinning now, the story distracting them both from their worries about Elias. . “One day, while he was swimming in the stream, he noticed Miss Swan swimming with her cygnets—”

“What’s a cygnet, Mama?” His small voice struggled to say the new word.

Sophia smiled. “Baby swans, just like you would be.”

“And you’d be like Miss Swan?”

“Yes,” Sophia said softly, smiling. “Miss Swan was the loveliest swan Mr. Turtle had ever seen, but she didn’t seem to know it. Her thoughts were always far away, as she was wondering what she could do to take care of her little ones. Miss Swan’s sister, Sarah Swan, and her brother-in-law, Mr. Swan, had died several years ago, and she raised her little nieces and nephews as her own. Finally, one day, Mr. Turtle swam up to her and said, “Miss Swan, are you alright? Your face looks somewhat sad.’”

“I’m alright,” said Miss. Swan. “It’s just that… ever since my sister and her husband died, I’ve been so very lonely. If only my little nieces and nephews had a father that could lead them and show them how a good man should act. “An idea fluttered through Mr. Turtle’s head, but he didn’t think about it right then. How could they ever get married? He was a turtle, and she was a beautiful swan…”

Her words trailed off as the sound of a snore reached her ears. Elijah was lying back against the pillows, his eyes closed and his breaths slow and deep. His auburn hair—the perfect blend of Sophia’s carrot top and Elias chocolate brown hair—fell into his eyes. Sophia laughed quietly, kissed her son on the forehead once more, and then said in a whisper, “I’ll tell you the rest of it tomorrow night, okay, sweetheart?”

She tucked him back in, stood up, and walked to the door of Elijah’s bedroom. The moonlight spilled in through the dusty glass window, casting a pool of silver on the floor and illuminating his discarded toys and tattered children’s Bible his grandparents, Elias’s parents, had given him. Her in-laws hadn’t been very involved in Elijah’s life, and neither had her brother-in-law, Thomas. Even years before Sophia had Elias had married, Elias and Thomas had become estranged, having as little contact as they could manage. It was better that way—oil and water had nothing on Thomas and Elias. Sophia had never once heard Thomas take responsibility for his actions, and both she and Elias agreed that it would be best if Elijah was not exposed to him.

And Sophia herself had been a mail-order bride. She’d fallen in love with Elias through his penchant for beautiful words and a crafty way of winning her heart without ever setting eyes on her, and had left everything—her parents, her grandparents, her siblings and friends—behind to be with him. She didn’t regret a thing—she knew, somehow, that God had created Sophia and Elias Clark as perfect complements and companions, and she knew it down to her bones. But still, if something were to happen, Elijah’s maternal grandparents were in Boston, nearly two thousand miles away from their sleepy town of Belmont, Colorado.

If anything were to happen.

She shook her head slightly. Calm down, Sophia. Elias’ accident has you spooked, that’s all. Nothing’s going to happen. You’re perfectly safe.

Sophia crept down the hall to their bedroom. Elias was propped up in bed, his injured leg splinted and swaddled in thick cotton blankets. He smiled when he saw her, and Sophie felt her heart skip a beat—even after three and a half years of marriage, she still had the crush of a schoolgirl on him, and every day felt like they were still first courting.

Elias had hair the color of freshly overturned earth and eyes that held the same blue as one of the many lakes that dotted the mountains surrounding the town. He smiled when he saw her, and the smile took Sophia’s breath away for the millionth time.

“There you are, my beautiful wife.”

“There you are, my handsome husband,” Sophia purred in turn. She smiled, walked to the nightstand, pulled open a drawer, and changed into her nightclothes. She crossed the room to curl up beside him in bed, careful not to jostle his broken leg, and reached out and placed her hand on his arm, reveling in his warmth.

With his free hand, Elias reached across to gently stroke Sophia’s flame-red hair. “How’s Elijah?”

“He’s doing okay,” she answered, “I told him about Miss Swan and Mr. Turtle, and he loved that story. He’s growing up so fast. A wistful smile brightened on her face as she said the words. “He is worried about you, though.”

Elias turned his head and gave her his most winsome grin. “I‘ll tell him I’ll be fine tomorrow,” he said. “It takes more than being thrown from a horse to keep a fellow down.”

“I can’t blame him, though.” Sophia leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek. “You gave me quite a shock, darling.”

“My apologies, dearest. I’ll be sure to maintain a three-hundred-mile radius from any snakes that I see.”

Sophia, although smiling herself, poked him in the ribs. “Be serious.”

“I always am. Have you ever known me to tell a joke?”

“Yes. Every day, in fact.”

“I love you,” he said.

Sophia smiled, feeling like her heart was filled with champagne. “I love you more.”

***

Later that night, she woke up to a bitter acrid smell so thick it burned her throat.

Smoke.

Adrenaline shot through Sophia’s veins like lightning, so hard it hurt. She turned over in bed and shook Elias’ shoulder to wake him.

He didn’t answer her, only moaned in pain. There was no time to worry about his leg when she could smell smoke. His life was in danger.

“Elias,” Sophia said, panicked. She tried not to scream his name but smoke was already getting to her, and she coughed.

He awakened with a sleepy, “What is it?”

“Elias. There’s a fire.”

A hand on her cheek, and then Elias pressed his lips against hers. “Go get Elijah.”

“But you’re—”

He kissed her again. Wet tears ran in between their faces; Sophia couldn’t tell if they were Elias’s or hers. “Sophia. I love you,” he said once they parted, cupping her cheek tenderly. “Go save our son.”

Sophia shot out of bed and bolted to the door.

The door handle was hot, forcing her to grasp it with the edge of her nightgown skirt, and as Sophia opened it, thick, bitter smoke flooded into their bedroom, stinging her eyes and throat. As she looked upstairs, she could see a glimpse of red flame.

In spite of the scorching dry air around her, her blood ran cold. All she could do was pray. God, please let Elijah be safe. Please let Elijah be safe. Pulling her nightgown up so it covered her nose and mouth, she raced upstairs, coughing and spluttering on the thick smoke.

At the top, she saw her worst fears come to life. Tongues of flame billowed out, and the very air was so hot she felt that she would be cooked alive. I left the candle on. Lord in Heaven, forgive me, I left the candle on.

Elijah.

I have to get him.

Steeling herself, Sophia dashed through the smoke—it was so thick, now, that she almost couldn’t see the doorway to her son’s room, and had to grope her way to the door. Her lungs burning, eyes streaming with tears, she found the handle, turned it, and slammed the door behind her.

And then her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor, coughing and spluttering from the smoke that had scratched her lungs. Dimly, she saw Elijah stir in his bed. “Mama? What’s wrong?”

Sophia tried and failed to stop trembling. She ran to her son and picked him up, then turned and ran back to the door, Elijah squalling in her arms all the while. Sophia almost wanted to break down crying too. Her stomach twisted at the thought of Elias, still lying in bed, and she had to force herself not to vomit.

“Everything’s going to be alright, Elijah,” she said, trying to convince him as much as herself. “We just have to leave. There’s a little fire, but the firemen will come and put it out, you’ll see.”

Elijah wailed.

The flames outside crackled.

Forcing her voice not to shake, Sophia told Elijah, “Listen to Mama. We are going to hold our breaths for a little while, okay? We’re going to play pretend that we’re underwater with Mr. Turtle and Miss Swan. Put your face on my shoulder and hold your breath for as long as you can.”

And with that, she reached out and opened the door.

A wall of flames roared out from the hallway, their fiery tendrils threatening to burn her and her son alive. Sophia jumped back, her outstretched hand beginning to redden, her lungs screaming for air, and slammed the door as hard as she could.

Elijah coughed, sobbed, then said weakly, “Mama, it hurts.”

“I know, baby,” Sophia said around the smoke filling her throat. Her stomach twisted with dread. She was trapped.

Unless…

Her eyes flitted to the window.

I have to jump. It’s the only way.

Smoke crept into the room, burning her eyes and throat. Sophia knew that as bad as this was for her, it would be a thousand times worse for Elijah’s little body. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispered as she crossed the room to the bed and wrapped him in his quilts, blankets and pillows. It would be a pitiful protection against such a fall, she knew, but it was the only thing she could do.

“Where’s Papa?”

“He’ll be out in a second,” Sophia said, her stomach twisting at the lie. Elias. My Elias.

Please, God, protect the love of my life.

She looked at the window—and with a short, sharp motion, she picked up the lamp beside Elijah’s bedside, and hurled it, stiffly and onehanded, at the windowpane.

The lamp did its work. Both it and the window shattered with a spectacular crash, sending shards of glass all over the floor. Where the windowpane had been was a gaping hole that let in air—cool breathable air—the shimmering stars beckoning through the hole.

And surrounding her tiny escape hatch were rows of glass shards that loomed, like a shark’s teeth, around it.

Sophia swallowed hard, tightened her sweaty hands around Elijah—and raced to the window as fast as she could. The glass bit into her feet, but she hardly noticed the pain. Hardly breaking her stride, she half-climbed, half-jumped through the window.

And out into the twenty-foot drop below.

She hit the ground feet-first, and her left leg flared with pain, her ankle twisting unnaturally. Sophia gasped, stifling her scream. She fell to her knees and toppled forward, the sobbing Elijah pressed against her chest. Was he hurt? Worry made a wave of bile rise in her throat. Had she just injured her baby boy?

And what about Elias?

She set her son down and looked him in the eye. “Listen to Mama very carefully. We’re going to play a little waiting game. You go wait in those bushes, and see if there are any bugs for you to make friends with. Okay? It’s really, really, important. I need to go help Papa.”

Silent tears rolled down Elijah’s cheeks as he nodded, and then ran off to clutch the bushes. His face, ghostly in the moonlight, watched her; the loneliness in his eyes almost ripped her heart in two.

Sophia pushed herself up—and the pain in her ankle nearly caused her to black out. She crumpled to the ground, barely stifling her cry. Dimly, she could see Elijah running towards her to comfort her. “No!” Sophia shouted. “You have to stay there!”

There wasn’t time to check if he was following the instructions. Every second put Elijah’s life more at risk. I’ll crawl. If I can’t stand, I’ll crawl.

“’So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand,’” Sophia recited, finding none of her usual comfort in the words. On her hands and knees, she began the long crawl to the front of their house, barely noticing the way the pine needles pricked at her hands. Elias. Dear God, please save Elias.

As she crawled, she could see the progression of the fire—the window of Elijah’s bedroom was now an angry, roiling, red-orange wall of flame. They had escaped just in time.

She crawled, bit by painful bit, to the front door of her house. Cinders were shooting out of the roof now, and black smoke billowed, blotting out the moon. Flames danced above her as she pulled her battered body onto the porch of the house, and the burning wood of the awning gave an ominous creak. She reached for the doorknob—

“Sophia!”

She turned around to see Catherine Bennett, her best friend, racing down the driveway to her house. With her was her husband John, and Nathaniel Jenkins, a local ranch hand.

“Sophia!” Kate screamed. “Sophia, get out of there!”

“Elias!” Sophia heard her own voice sob. Talking felt like sandpaper was being shoved down her throat. “I have to save Elias!”

A second later, she felt a pair of strong arms picking her up and carrying her away from the porch. It was Catherine’s husband, John. Sophia kicked and screamed, heedless of the pain in her injured ankle, but John refused to let go.

All Sophia could do was watch helplessly as the burning overhang of the porch collapsed, blocking off their front door forever.

A second later, the roof of their house caved in with it.

She heard someone screaming.

It was her.

John set her down gently, but Sophia barely registered it at all. This is a dream, isn’t it? It has to be a dream. It’s got to be a dream. Kate ran up to her, her eyes wide, with Elijah in her arms. With a sad shocked sound in her throat, she passed Sophia her son, and Sophia pressed him close to her breast.

“Mama?” Elijah squeaked, and that one word opened some floodgate within her, for she broke down, her body shaking with silent sobs. “Mommy?” Elijah called again. “Where’s Daddy?”

Despite her own breaking heart, Sophia knew the truth. She heard her own voice say, “In Heaven.”

Chapter One

June 3rd, 1880

Sophia’s eyes snapped open. Adrenaline flooded through her body, scorching her nerves the way the fire had. Her breath came in tiny ragged gasps. She swore that the smell of smoke still clung to her. Elijah! I have to get to Elijah!

She bolted from the bed and raced down the hall blindly, panting, the hairs on her neck standing up. Where was Elijah? She had to get to him—

“Sophia!”

Kate’s voice. Still confused from sleep, Sophia spun around to see her friend calling to her at the end of the hall—

Wait. This wasn’t her old house. The portraits hanging on the wall were of Kate and her family, not of Sophia, Elias, and Elijah. The rug on the floor was pink and white, instead of beige. This wasn’t her house.

Footsteps pounded the floor, and a second later Sophia felt Kate’s warm arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. As if a dam had broken inside of her, Sophia’s fear turned to sorrow as everything came rushing back to her, as it did every morning, and she sobbed, loud and wailing, into her best friend’s arms.

Kate rubbed her back soothingly as the two women sank to the floor. “Shh,” Kate whispered. “You’re all right, Sophia. You’re with me. I was making breakfast, and it got a little burnt. I’m sorry.”

“Elias,” Sophie whispered in a broken sob.

“I know, Sophia. I know.”

“…Where’s Elijah?” Sophia gasped.

Kate stood up, held out a hand, and smiled. “Let’s go check on him, shall we?” Sophia took her outstretched hand and let her friend lead her down the hall. Some part of Sophia resented the way her friend had to lead her, as if she were a child, to her son’s room. I need to be stronger. For Elijah, for Elias’s memory, and for me.

They stopped at the room that Elijah shared with Kate’s two sons, Paul and James. Sophia pushed the door open, hesitantly, timidly. Even though her rational mind knew that Elijah was safe, she still felt that she would open up the door to see her little son wreathed in flames—

The three boys were peacefully asleep in the bed that they shared.

Sophia let out a shaky breath, tears of relief beading up in her eyes. Her son was safe.

As quietly as she could manage, Sophia crept to her son’s side and kissed him tenderly on his forehead. “Mama loves you, very, very much.”

His blanket had come down around him while he slept. Gently, Sophia tucked him back in. A gentle hand pressed into her back, and she turned and raised her head to find Kate standing beside her, gazing with soft eyes full of love at her two small boys.

“It’s hard being a mother, isn’t it?”

I shouldn’t have reacted like that. All Sophia could do was nod, cheeks burning with shame—and guilt.

If only she had awoken sooner. If she had awoken sooner, then Elias would be there, right now. Elijah would have his father back, and Sophia would have her husband back. Their house would be gone, but that hardly mattered—she’d rather be dirt poor and have her Elias in her arms once more, than live in a palace without him.

Sophia looked down once more at her sleeping son, her vision blurring with tears. Elijah, it’s my fault you don’t have a father anymore.

“Sophia.”

Sophia blinked away her tears and looked up at her friend.

“Sophia, it’s not your fault,” Kate urged.

It is, Sophia thought, but she didn’t speak the words. Kate had a stubborn streak a few miles wide, and she couldn’t resist cheering others up. If she told Kate that yes, it was her fault, Kate would argue with her, and plead with her to forgive herself, and Sophia couldn’t bear to have her friend try and convince her. Kate had taken her in and given her food and shelter, even though her own finances were tight. She had done so much for them in the past year.

“You’ll meet him in Heaven,” Kate said softly, trying to assure her. Her face was a picture of empathy, her brows pinched, and her mouth pulled down sadly.

I wish I was there with him, Sophia thought, and instantly hated herself for it. No matter how much she wanted to curl up and die, she had Elijah to look after. What kind of mother would abandon her son?

But what kind of wife would abandon her husband?

Kate held her, then kissed her on the cheek. “You’ll be alright. Time heals, you know that? You’ll be alright, and so will Elijah.”

“I don’t want to be alright,” Sophia murmured blankly. “Not without Elias.”

“I know.” Kate’s eyes were full of sorrow. “I know.”

Sophia walked to the point where she was nearly out of the boys’ room before saying, “I’m sorry, Kate. For putting you up to this.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Kate’s assurance was loving as she took Sophia’s hands in her own. “Come on. Let’s get breakfast, shall we? I’ll go get Eliza up, and John is already downstairs.”

Eliza was Kate and John’s third child, their three-year-old daughter. She was the same age as Elijah, and the two of them had become fast friends since they were barely old enough to crawl. Kate and Sophia both swore they’d get married, someday.

Sophia was just about to head back to her own room when she heard Elijah’s little voice say, “I love you, Mama.”

Sophia, still in the hallway, scampered back to her son’s side, picked him up, and held him close. “I love you too, my little turtle. Let’s go get some breakfast, shall we? Go downstairs with Auntie Kate. She made pancakes, doesn’t that sound good?” The smell that had turned her peaceful sleep into blinding fear was now making her mouth water. Sophia felt slightly ridiculous. I should have kept a better handle on my emotions…

But there were a lot of things she should have done, and they tormented her, every single night. I should have snuffed out the candle. I should have woken up earlier. I should have found a way to carry Elias to safety. I should have, should have, should have…

She set Elijah down. Loneliness and sorrow filled her heart as he ran down the stairs to the kitchen, loneliness and sorrow filling her heart.

Dear Lord, she silently prayed, once Elijah had descended the staircase, I still have my son. Help me to feel grateful that you have spared him for me, and help me to know that I will be with Elias in heaven. Help me to take strength in Your unfailing Light.

Her body feeling like that of a much older woman’s, Sophia turned, went back to her guest room, and dressed in her mourning dress. Eleven months of wearing black, and yet, she didn’t miss colorful clothes at all.

…I might as well go get some breakfast.