Her pillow captured her sobs and the tears. But it couldn’t contain the pain that pressed for release. One that went deep inside. One that had festered long before she’d met Jericho. One that had started after her ma had married Rusty. Even though Ma had done it to save the farm, Ivy had always resented her for the decision. Rusty had demanded Ma’s attention and affection all for himself, so she’d had none left for anyone else. Maybe Ma hadn’t meant to reject Ivy, but she’d done it anyway. She’d rejected Ivy for Rusty.

Her brothers hadn’t meant to push her to the sideline, but it had happened when they’d gotten busy with their own lives and families. Now Jericho had tossed her aside too. She’d offered herself and her future to him, but he’d thrown her love away without even a good-bye.

Her sobs into the pillow only swelled, but she hugged it tight to muffle the sound. Jericho hadn’t said good-bye. Even if her brothers had prevented him from it, he could’ve figured out a way to see her one last time.

What was wrong with her that everyone was always abandoning her? Why didn’t anyone ever love her enough to stay?

With despair settling into all the cracks of her broken heart, she finally drifted to sleep.

She only stayed at Brody’s for one more day before moving back to the bedroom she shared with Astrid at Wyatt’s. When Wyatt carried her up the stairs and deposited her on the bed, she climbed under the covers and decided she didn’t ever want to get up.

But a few days later when Greta went into labor while everyone else was gone, Ivy had no choice but to emerge and help her sister-in-law. By the time Astrid returned with the other three children from a ride out to the inn to check on the progress of the building project, Ivy was holding a newborn babe, a little girl.

After helping to bring the tiny bundle into the world, somehow Ivy felt as though she had a connection with baby Willa. Though her chest wouldn’t stop aching from the loss of Jericho, she found a measure of comfort in taking care of the newborn, holding and cuddling her every time Greta wasn’t feeding her.

By the time July turned into August, they were all aware Willa wasn’t thriving the way she should. The baby struggled to breathe, her skin remained a shade of blue, and she grew increasingly limp and lethargic. The doctor did everything he could to help the infant, but two weeks after her birth, Willa died.