Revealed by Tamera Alexander

herself before saying Matthew’s name. No need to give Patrick an open door to bring up the subject of him again. ‘‘Over . . . many people because we’d seen who we really are without Jesus. And until someone does that, they can’t be near as grateful as they should be. Or as kind to others.’’ Her laugh came out clipped. ‘‘I guess that should make me one of the most grateful people around, huh? And one of the kindest, to boot?’’
    ‘‘And that’s exactly what you are,’’ he said gently.
    Surprised at his response, she savored it.
    He guided their wagon down a side street, and her focus was drawn to a hunched-over figure not too far up ahead. ‘‘Patrick, would you mind stopping for a second. Please?’’ When he brought the wagon to a standstill, she climbed down using the wheel hub for a foothold.
    The old peddler Kathryn Jennings had introduced her to pulled his rickety cart behind him on the side of the street, speaking to those he passed, whether they acknowledged him or not. When Annabelle caught his attention, a smile creased the sun-furrowed lines of Callum Roberts’ bearded face.
    He plunked down his old cart. ‘‘Miss Grayson, why I’ll be. Don’t you look mighty pretty today.’’
    Annabelle didn’t bother correcting him, on either point, and gently touched the tarnished brooch she’d pinned on her shawl that morning as an afterthought, so glad now that she’d worn it. Callum Roberts’ eyes lit when he saw it. The brooch was a purchase she’d made from Mr. Roberts when she and Kathryn Jennings had been in town together one day last spring. The jewelry served to remind her not only of the ancient hawker but of a lesson in kindness she’d learned from Kathryn.
    She and Kathryn had been talking at the time, and Annabelle would’ve passed by the old peddler without notice. But not Kathryn.
    Kathryn stopped and talked to him, looking him in the eye, fawning over his wares, and purchasing two items Annabelle knew she had no need of. Then Kathryn had hugged the man—actually hugged him! Despite his smell. A tear had trickled down the old man’s cheek, making Annabelle wonder how long it had been since someone had touched him, much less shown him such affection.
    She leaned over and peered into the man’s cart. ‘‘What sorts of things do you have today, Mr. Roberts?’’ She assumed that this collection of odds and ends contained many of the same items Kathryn had sorted through a year ago.
    ‘‘Well, what are you hopin’ to find?’’
    ‘‘Oh, no telling what might strike my fancy. How has business been?’’ He looked as though he might not have eaten a good meal in several days. Or weeks.
    Knowing the temptation might be there for him, she studied his face for signs of being into the bottle. But his eyes were clear and bright, no tremors in his hands. No smell on his breath either, other than staleness and rotten teeth.
    ‘‘Not too bad. Seems like more and more people are wantin’ to go to that fancy store down the way there. Don’t know why they would though, when I got what they need right here. For a bargain,’’ he added, leaning down to rub his right leg.
    Annabelle thought she’d noticed him favoring that same leg when she first spotted him walking down the street. ‘‘I couldn’t agree with you more, Mr. Roberts.’’ She finally settled on a worn, thinning volume no larger than the palm of her hand. The tiny book appeared to still contain all of its pages, but from the stains browning the edges, she wondered if the verses within would even be legible. The author’s name on the cover wasn’t familiar to her, but the title was captivating enough — The Tell-Tale Heart .
    She also picked up a handheld mirror that must have been painted gold several lifetimes ago. The mirror’s face was cracked in two places, and the ornate handle was marred by three hollow indentions that might once have boasted pieces of colored cut glass. Annabelle held it up to