“I know how much it meant to me to give it,” she began, heat flushing her face. Her heart pounded, rattling her ribcage.

“Then you understand why it was just as important to me to give something back to you.”

All this time, he’d been working with such dedication at Hamilton House because he was reciprocating kindness for her quilt. All his attention to detail, taking his time to do things the right way, being nice to her, helping her with anything she asked, it had all been because of the quilt.

Her insides shredded into little bits as a mix of emotions hit her.

Please don’t cry, Sarah. Please don’t cry. Grasp onto how angry his having deceived you this way makes you feel, but don’t cry.

“I didn’t need your charity.”

“But I did need yours.”

Stunned at his soft confession, Sarah’s attempt at holding onto anger became more difficult and she stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

Still watching the road, Bodie winced. “Maybe going for a drive for this conversation wasn’t a good idea.”

“We can turn back,” she suggested, determined that they would have this conversation without any more delays.

Seeming to recognize where they were, he drove a little farther, turned into the city park, and pulled into a parking place. They were the only ones there.

Sarah refused to let thoughts of the night before, when they’d also been at the park, into her mind. She needed to keep clear-headed.

“Unfortunately,” Bodie said as he put the truck into park, “I can’t turn back time.”

“Not what I meant. But is that what you want? To turn back time?”

He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel but didn’t answer, just seemed to be considering his next words.

“What would you do different if you could turn back time?” she pressed, knowing that whatever was going on in his head was important, that as deceived as she felt, this conversation needed to take place. She couldn’t let him retreat without having told her everything.

“I’d have thanked you for my quilt and left Pine Hill immediately.”

Ouch. His answer stung. Because he’d rather not have gotten to know her?

“Actually, that’s not true,” he revised, raking his fingers through his short hair. “Hamilton House wouldn’t have been ready by Christmas if I hadn’t stayed.”

“If you believe that, you don’t know me as well as I would have thought. I’d have found a way,” she assured him. Even if it meant she had to watch online how-to videos and suffer through trial and error or beg the men and women at church to come help her, she’d have finished by Christmas Day to have her open house.

“My being here made it easier.”