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    Shaking hands with Mike Cooper had almost been Kelly’s undoing. When Mike released her hand, she was trembling and had to clench her fists at her sides in order to keep him from seeing how much his touch affected her.
    Mike opened his mouth as if to say something, but he was cut off by a woman’s shrill voice.
    “Yoo-hoo! Mr. Cooper, I need you!”
    Kelly and Mike both turned. Betsy Nelson, the local preacher’s daughter, was heading their way, her long, green skirt swishing this way and that.
    Kelly cringed, remembering how overbearing Betsy could be. She didn’t simply share the Good News, the way Reverend Nelson did. No, Betsy tried to cram it down folks’ throats by insisting they come to Sunday school at the little church in Walnutport, where her father served as pastor.
    One time, when Kelly was about seven years old, Betsy had actually told Kelly and her sister, Sarah, that they were going to the devil if they didn’t come to Sunday school and learn about Jesus. Papa overheard the conversation and blew up, telling sixteen-year-old Betsy what he thought of her pushy ways. He’d sent her home in tears and told Kelly and Sarah there was no need for either of them to go to church. He said he’d gotten along fine all these years without God, so he didn’t think his daughters needed religion.
    Mama thought otherwise, and while the girls were young, she often read them a Bible story before going to bed. When Kelly turned twelve, Mama gave her an old Bible that had belonged to Grandma Minnotti, who’d died and gone to heaven. It was during the reading of the Bible story about Jesus’ death on the cross that Kelly had confessed her sins in the quiet of her room one night. She’d felt a sense of hope, realizing Jesus was her personal Savior and would walk with her wherever she went—even up and down the dirty towpath.
    What had happened to her childlike faith since then? Had she become discouraged after Sarah ran away with Sam, leaving her with the responsibility of leading the mules? Or had her faith in God slipped because Papa was so mean and wouldn’t give Kelly any money for the hard work she did every day?
    Kelly’s thoughts came to a halt when Betsy Nelson stepped between her and Mike and announced, “I need to buy material for some new kitchen curtains I plan to make.”
    “Go on up to the store and choose what you want. I’ll be there in a minute,” Mike answered with a nod.
    Betsy stood grounded to her spot, and Mike motioned toward Kelly. “Betsy, in case you didn’t recognize her, this is Kelly McGregor, all grown up.”
    Kelly felt her face flame, and she opened her mouth to offer a greeting, but Betsy interrupted.
    “Sure, I remember you—the skinny little girl in pigtails who refused to go to Sunday school.”
    Kelly knew that wasn’t entirely true, as it had been Papa’s decision, not hers. She figured it would be best not to say anything, however.
    Betsy squinted her gray blue eyes and reached up to pat the tight bun she wore at the back of her head. Kelly wondered if the young woman ever allowed her dingy blond hair to hang down her back. Or did the prim and proper preacher’s daughter even sleep with her hair pulled back so tightly her cheeks looked drawn?
    “I was hoping you would help me choose the material,” Betsy said, offering Mike a pinched-looking smile.
    Mike fingered his mustache and rocked back on his heels. Kelly thought he looked uncomfortable. “I’m kind of busy right now,” he said, nodding at Kelly.
    “It’s all right,” she was quick to say. “Papa’s about ready to go, and I think we’ve finished with our business.”
    “But you haven’t given me any pictures,” Mike reminded her.
    “Oh ... oh, you’re right.” Kelly’s voice wavered when she spoke. She was feeling more flustered by the minute.
    “Kelly, you got them mules ready yet?” Papa shouted from the bow of the boat.
    Kelly turned to her father and called, “In a minute, Papa.”