“What’s this?” A chill chased up Nessa’s spine. Was Flynn having the same kind of emotional turmoil as their grandmother? “The playboy isn’t on the prowl anymore? Do give us details.”

“Like I said, it’s a conversation for another day, maybe never if we don’t become friends.” Flynn’s tone left no doubt that there was a story hidden deep in his heart—or maybe his soul.

“Did you find a picture of Jesus in your morning toast and decide to turn your life around?” Nessa asked.

Flynn turned toward her and gave her a dirty look. “Uncle Isaac would disown you for a comment like that.”

Nessa ran her hand over the first few squares in the quilt. “I doubt that. He would love to find a picture of his Lord and Savior in a pancake or in his morning oatmeal. That would make him famous.” A heavy, tense feeling hovered in the shed as they all stared at the quilt again. “I loved coming out here with Nanny Lucy and watching her quilt. She had the neatest little stitches, so even and uniform.” Not even the good memory eased the tension.

“I was practically raised in this shed.” April sighed. “I spent hours under the frame when I’d done something bad, like remind her of my mother. I learned to stay down by the waterfall as much as possible just to stay out of her way. When Nanny Lucy put me under the quilt, I got tired of listening to them singing hymns and talking about the healing properties of the Spirit of God and patterns for making future quilts. I often wondered if God had quilting frames in heaven, and if He didn’t, would Nanny Lucy be happy there? I always felt like her quilting business, the ladies from the church, and her garden club women came before me. I was just the burden from my mother’s death.”

“I wanted to live here when”—Flynn hesitated for a second—“my mother passed away. Nanny Lucy told me that she couldn’t raise another kid, and maybe if my father had to take care of me, it would straighten him out, but she was wrong. Nothing could ever straighten Matthew O’Riley out.”

“You might have been luckier than you realize.” April whipped around and glared at Flynn, bringing even more tension into the shed. “Nanny Lucy was over fifty when I was born and thought she was done with raising kids. She told me that on a daily basis. When my mother died, she said that God told her she had to raise me.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “But enough of that depressing old story. Let’s get out of this place.”