O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him? You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor. You made him ruler over the works of your hands; you put everything under his feet: O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

      —Psalms 8:1, 3–6, 9

      Many thanks to the Christian adults who gave

       their time and shared their faith with young people when I was growing up, most especially Wally and Rea Brown, the Russell Smiths, Russ and Betty Huff, Harvey Quenette and Uncle Don.

      Also with special love:

       Ewart and Prudy Harper Wyle. George, for years of encouragement and love and for cooking dinner at least twice a week. Ernest Spiekermann, for his Christian example and for sharing his knowledge of wildflowers of central Texas. Any mistakes are mine, not his. Jessica Alvarez, the kindest, most talented and patient editor ever.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Epilogue

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      Can’t go home again. Can’t go home again. The words repeated in the slap of the car’s worn tires against the highway as Kate Wallace headed west out of Burnet and into the heart of the Texas Hill Country.

      But here she was, doing exactly that. Going home. And not a bit happy about it.

      She took the curve on Highway 29 too fast. As the car leaned into the turn, Kate put her hand on the elderly buff cocker spaniel sleeping next to her to make sure the dog didn’t fall off the seat.

      Why was she in such a hurry? It wasn’t as if the town of Silver Lake would disappear if she dawdled.

      Slowing, she headed north on County Road 144A. Within a few minutes, she was speeding through rolling hills, past the thick groves of trees and the shimmering green grass that covered central Texas in the spring. Here and there, she spotted patches of bluebonnets, promises of the beauty to come.

      Twenty minutes later, she pulled off the highway at the top of the hill that overlooked Silver Lake and kept the engine running.

      Scratching her dog Coco’s ears, Kate breathed in the spicy scent of cedars as she studied the town spread out below her.

      “Kate Wallace,” she whispered. “You really are home again.” An emotion filled her, an odd mixture of hope and resignation, shame and excitement which made her want to grin and to cry and to flee from here as fast as her old car could take her.

      At twenty-one, she’d left Silver Lake with a brand-new degree in journalism and her entire future ahead. Without a backward glance, she’d shaken the dust of small-town Texas off her feet and headed to the big city.

      Twelve years later, here she was, back in Silver Lake without her youth and confidence and missing a few other things, as well.

      She closed her eyes, trying to replace the view of the small hill-country town with the towering buildings of New York and Houston and the pulsing rhythms of Miami, the cities she’d loved so much. When she opened her eyes the city limits sign—Silver Lake, Population 7,881—stared back at her and the leaves of post oaks rustled in the breeze.

      No doubt about it. She was in Mesa County, Texas.

      She glanced at her watch. Noon on Saturday. She could sneak into town. With everyone shopping in Austin or Granite Falls, the square would be deserted.

      Not that anyone would recognize her now. She was thirty-three and looked every day of it. Her silver-blond hair had darkened over the years and she’d chopped off her long curls six months ago.

      Coming home wasn’t her choice, but it was the only remaining option. After she’d testified against her boss—a well-known congressman she’d served as press secretary—few choices remained. When her sister Abby’s e-mail had arrived three weeks earlier asking Kate to come home and care for her after shoulder surgery, she’d grabbed the opportunity to escape.

      She shifted out of Park and stepped on the gas. Within minutes, she passed a new Dollar Merchandise store next to a new H-E-B grocery store.

      When a chatting group of people stepped off the curb, Kate returned to reality, slammed on the brakes and stopped inches short of them. Thank you, Lord, she whispered, a little surprised at how good that short prayer felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said one.

      On the sidewalk stood Sara Arroyo, her former best friend. She’d changed, but no one else in town had hair that dark and full and beautiful. Kate should jump from the car and apologize for dropping out of sight. She should tell Sara she was home and they had to get together. But she didn’t. Today she wanted to slink back into town. Besides, Sara held the hands of two children. Kate didn’t want to interrupt whatever they were doing, an explanation even she recognized as a terrible excuse.

      At Lloyd’s Auto Repair and Battery Services, she turned left onto Goliad Street. She followed the curve for another block as she drove between rows of towering live oak trees dripping in Spanish moss until she stopped in front of the three-story Victorian house that used to be home.

      The