“Just common sense around my kids. You’ve met my family’s worst—my brother.”

I held up my palm. “Not going there.”

“No need. He’s like Good Housekeeping.”

“What?”

“He has years of issues.”

I covered my mouth to suppress the humor. Didn’t work. “It’s been way too long since I’ve laughed. But I was serious about guidelines around your kids.”

“I know you are.” She sobered. “After you’ve rested tomorrow, we can talk. I’ll do all I can to help you succeed.” She patted my arm. “We women have to stick together.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”

“We have Jesus, and He’s done the hard work.”

How did one woman say all the right things? “How many people in the community are aware of me?”

“Sheriff Wendall, my brother, Randy, Amy-Jo, who owns the café, the parole officer, my kids, and Pastor Emory. No one else’s business. Wanted to tell you the pastor has signed a check for you to purchase jewelry-making supplies.”

I startled. “But he doesn’t know me.”

“Pastor Emory is a kindhearted man. He wants to make sure you have all you need to get started on the right path. I showed him some pics of your designs. He was impressed.”

A warm sensation curled through me. The chaplain had complimented me, but her role was encouragement. “I’m grateful, and I’ll pay him back. I don’t want to owe anyone or be viewed as a charity case. What a blessing.”

“You do what feels best, but he’s not expecting payment.”

“Would you keep the check for me? The jewelry supplies and stones are sold online, and I don’t have a credit card.”

“Sure. Put together the order, and I’ll handle it. Before I forget it, you have a neighbor who is a super nice guy. I’ve asked him to keep an eye out for you. The cabin is a bit remote.”

“What’s his name?”

“Denton McClure. He rented the cabin nearest you, about a quarter of a mile through the woods. He’s a widower.” Edie laughed. “The man would make friends with a fence post.”

“What’s his profession?”

“High school math teacher.”

“Anything I should be aware of?”

Edie waved away my concern. “Not at all. I trust him implicitly. He’s done a few repairs for me and given Timothy and Livy riding lessons. Told me he’d taken an extended leave from teaching to sort out what he should do next. Said he’d been widowed for over two years, and it was time to put the grief behind him.”

A pop rang out and the right front tire blew, sending the SUV left toward the shoulder. Edie slammed on the brakes, and the vehicle slid and swerved.

“Don’t brake!” Years ago a driver’s ed instructor pounded the warning into my brain. He followed up with videos depicting what happened to metal and people who had blowouts on wet, slippery roads.

Edie lifted her foot, fighting to keep the SUV under control. But the vehicle ignored her efforts and dove hood-first into a water-filled ditch.