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the table, reading a book. Another child, a girl a few years older, was setting out plates and silverware. "Ah, there he is!" Sarah said, turning from the stove with a smile. "Come in, Will. Sit down. This is Elijah"—she gestured to the boy at the table—"and this is Ruth." She nodded toward the girl. Elijah looked up from his book, and Will felt his stomach flutter with nervousness. Elijah was a serious-looking boy with dark skin, intelligent eyes, and a quiet, watchful demeanor. He studied Will for a long moment, then nodded in greeting. "Hello," he said simply. "Hi," Will replied, his voice barely above a whisper. Ruth, on the other hand, was all warmth and energy. She was perhaps ten or eleven, with a bright smile and lively eyes that sparkled with curiosity. "You're the boy Mama told us about!" she exclaimed. "The one who got lost! Don't worry, we're going to take good care of you." Will felt a blush creep up his cheeks. "Thank you," he mumbled. Sarah placed a plate of food in front of him — a mountain of biscuits smothered in creamy gravy, two fried eggs, and thick slices of bacon. It was more food than Will had seen in months. He stared at it, almost afraid to touch it. "Eat up," Sarah urged. "You need to put some meat on those bones." Will didn't need to be told twice. He picked up his fork and began to eat, trying to pace himself but failing miserably. The food was delicious — warm, savory, and filling. He ate until his stomach ached, and still he wanted more. "Slow down," Ruth said with a laugh. "The food's not going anywhere." Will forced himself to stop, placing his fork down with a guilty look. "Sorry," he said. "I'm just really hungry." "Nothing to be sorry about," Sarah said gently. "You eat as much as you want. There's plenty more." The door to the kitchen opened, and Reverend Thomas entered, his face bright with a morning smile. He was wearing his collar and a simple black suit, and he carried a leather-bound Bible under his arm. "Good morning, everyone," he said, his voice rich and warm. "And good morning to you, Will. I trust you slept well?" Will nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you." "Excellent, excellent." The Reverend took his seat at the head of the table, and Sarah placed a plate of food in front of him. "Now, before we eat, let's say grace." They all bowed their heads, and Reverend Thomas offered a prayer of thanks — for the food, for the warmth of their home, and for the new addition to their family. Will listened to the words, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over him. He had never been much for prayer, but there was something comforting about the ritual, something that made him feel like he was part of something bigger than himself. After breakfast, Ruth offered to show Will around the house. She took him from room to room, chattering excitedly about everything and nothing — the family's history, the town's gossip, the quirks of each room. Will listened more than he talked, absorbing the details of this new world he had been thrust into. The house on Sycamore Street was modest but comfortable. It had four bedrooms upstairs — one for Reverend Thomas and Sarah, one for Elijah, one for Ruth, and one that had been a guest room before Will arrived. There was also a small study where Reverend Thomas prepared his sermons, a parlor with a fireplace and