A Hope Remembered by Stacy Henrie Page B

she could carve out a life for herself in this valley.
    A full and vibrant life? Like the one you had before losing Tom, and Mother and Father? The question pricked her heart.
    “A contented one, at least,” she firmly told herself. It wasn’t safe or realistic to expect more than that.
    Jack stopped to point at a cottage similar in structure to Nora’s. “We live there.” She spied sheep and cattle grazing in separate fields and flowers at the cottage windows.
    Leaving the trail behind, Jack began climbing down the mountain. Nora struck out after him. They reached the field and climbed the ladder over the wall. Nora paused to catch her breath, while Jack removed his cap and wiped at his forehead with his sleeve.
    “Can you teach me how to shear the sheep?” she asked, studying the thick gray coat of one of the nearby ewes.
    “No need to worry about that. I’ll see to your sheep, same as ours.”
    A flash of irritation tightened her lips. “I wouldn’t feel right about that. I need to learn. It’s my livelihood now.”
    Jack’s frown mirrored her own. “Don’t know what the other chaps will think of you being in the way, but we’ll see.” With that, he stalked toward the field gate.
    Nora forced a steadying breath through her nose. She wouldn’t push the point with him anymore this evening, but she was an independent woman who had to rely on her own two hands for her support. And she wouldn’t let anyone, including Jack, bully her out of her rightful place here.
    She picked up her pace and trailed him out the gate and into the cottage. They entered through the back door onto a scene of complete chaos. Bess stood at the stove, stirring something, and calling out commands in a loud voice. Twin girls worked to set the long farm table as they talked. Their older sister brushed the coppery hair of the smallest girl, who sobbed in protest. A teenage boy, also with reddish hair, added wood to the fire, and another boy rode a wooden horse around the room, whooping.
    Nora shrank back against the door. Her recollections of visiting the Campbell home, even with Tom and his six siblings, hadn’t felt quite so frenzied.
    Bess glanced up as Jack approached her at the stove. “Oh, you’re both here,” she exclaimed.
    The noise and movement stopped as if on signal. Eight pairs of eyes stared at Nora. She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat, almost wishing for the loud madness instead. She didn’t like feeling like a specimen to be examined.
    Bess came over and looped her arm through Nora’s. “Welcome, love.” The older woman gently tugged her toward the center of the room, oblivious to her reticence. “You’ve already met our Jack here. So we just need to be introducing you to the rest of the Tuttles.” She motioned with her free hand to the oldest daughter. “That there’s Mary. She’s the one what works up at Elmthwaite. Jon is next. Then there’s the twins, Margaret and Martha. Joseph comes after them, and finally our little Ellie.”
    What if she couldn’t remember all their names? “It’s nice to meet you,” Nora said with a tentative smile.
    “Come sit down.” Bess shooed her toward one of the benches drawn up next to the table.
    Nora took a seat. The children crowded across from and beside her. Bess sat long enough to offer a blessing on the food, then lumbered to her feet again to ladle stew into bowls the twins passed around.
    Before Nora could spoon some of the savory-smelling broth into her mouth, Mary asked, “What it’s like living in America, with all them automobiles and big houses?”
    Nora gave a self-conscious shrug. “A lot like living here, I suppose. My family had a good-sized farm, but we didn’t own a car.”
    Mary’s eyes clouded with momentary disappointment. “What about American fashion?” She leaned forward as she added, “I want to cut my hair and wear shorter skirts, but Mum won’t let me.”
    “I heard that,” Bess scolded. She brought a bowl of stew