From it, she drew the envelope containing the check and a pen. On the outside, she wrote simply, “For Jonas. With my thanks.” She propped it against the candleholder, folded her trembling hands, and let her head fall. Even the rosy glow warming the planks at her feet couldn’t thaw the icy void inside. She raised her gaze to the envelope, wrinkled and rough around the edges, and swallowed a lump like jagged glass in her throat.

She wanted to snatch back that envelope—to stuff it in her bag and high tail to the hospital. She pictured Jonas alone in the waiting room, hunched in a too-small, plastic chair. This night wounded him deeply. He would need her.

Even more, she wanted to rage—to weep and shout and shred this room to pieces. This room, this chamber of secret dreams, that sheltered their love and allowed them both to heal. But no tears stung her eyes. Her spent body remained motionless. She knew in her heart she couldn’t do those things—shouldn’t do those things. Breath after breath filled her tender soul with quiet resolution. She had to leave.

But where were the keys to her van? She scanned the dresser and the nightstand. Nothing. She opened the single nightstand drawer. No keys, but something else. With a whisper-soft inhalation, she released the knob. Then she grabbed it again and tugged the drawer wide. Inside laid a collection of the most exquisite pencil drawings she had ever seen.

She brushed together her palms and grasped the pile lightly between thumb and fingers, easing it out. Hardly daring to breathe, she paged through the sketches. Most looked to have been made quickly in stolen moments amid hours of work: Rebecca and Pumpkin asleep under a tree, Nora rolling a piecrust in the kitchen, buggies in a line beside a snow-covered barn, and Elizabeth’s garden gate. At the very bottom of the pile, she found several detailed drawings of a woman with a round, generous face, dimpled cheeks, and kind eyes. Elizabeth. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her broken heart softened. I’m so very glad to meet you.

In one drawing, Jonas caught her pinning sheets to the wash line. Elizabeth glanced over a shoulder, fine hair escaping her cap at her temples and her lips parted in an expression mingling surprise and tenderness. Jonas’s wife had loved him. Tessa ran a finger over the delicate lines and sent up a prayer of thanks. She clearly brought Jonas joy, if only for a time.

Please let it be enough.