“Not at all. The cows are all milked, and that new lamb will want his bottle right about now. Want to help me, Robbie?”
“Yeah!” He hopped up and down with excitement.
“Come in the house while I fix it.”
Eve followed Tom through the screened-in back porch, waiting while he stopped at the porch sink to wash his hands. The aromas of coffee and frying bacon drifted from the kitchen along with the smell of something wonderful baking in the oven. They stepped into the kitchen, where Mrs. Vandenberg stood at the cast-iron range, pans sizzling as she cooked breakfast. Tom’s father sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. The room was cozy and warm with blue-checked curtains and whitewashed wainscoting and a worn linoleum floor that groaned when you walked across it.
“Good morning,” Eve said. “I’m sorry we’re here so early. We heard there’s a new baby lamb to feed.”
Tom’s mother turned, spatula in hand. “Well, good morning, Audrey. I’m just fixing breakfast. You want some?” She was a sweet, white-haired woman who reminded Eve of Granny Maud. “The eggs are fresh. Gathered them myself this morning.”
“We don’t want to be a bother.”
“You two are never a bother,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Guess what, Grandma Van!” Robbie said. “I’m going to feed the lamb!” Mrs. Vandenberg had told Robbie to call her Grandma Van after he’d struggled to say her name.
“Come here and give me a hug, sweetie pie.” She bent down as Robbie hurtled toward her, then folded him into her arms. A wave of longing for Granny Maud’s soft arms washed over Eve. If she told the truth about who she was, all of this would be snatched away from her son. He had a family here in America. He was loved. Mrs. Vandenberg was a fine churchgoing woman who would be horrified to learn what a liar Eve was, how she’d deceived her and won her heart by pretending to be someone else. Facing Grandma Van’s disappointment would be like facing Granny Maud’s. Eve could never confess—to her or to Tom. She would have to find another way out of this dilemma.
“That’s wonderful, Robbie,” Grandma Van said, returning to her cooking. “We sure could use your help with that lamb. Get out two more plates, Audrey honey, and some silverware.” Eve was familiar enough with the farm kitchen to do what she’d asked. Tom poured a cup of coffee for himself and one for Eve, then dragged an extra chair to the table.
“You take cream, right, Audrey?” he asked, setting the pitcher near her plate. Eve was certain Tom could read her guilt. She nodded, then quickly turned away.
“What’s baking in the oven?” she asked. “It smells wonderful!”
“I made a batch of biscuits.” Mrs. Vandenberg gestured to a wire rack on the counter where plump white mounds, lightly browned on top, were cooling. “Try one,” she said, “then go ahead and put the rest in that basket.” They looked like coconut macaroons, but the bite Eve tasted wasn’t sweet at all. Instead, it was buttery and floury and seemed to melt in her mouth. Tom had explained once before that British “biscuits” were called “cookies” in America. What his mother made, he’d insisted, were real biscuits.
“You and Robbie sit down now,” Mrs. Vandenberg said. She carried the skillet to the table and dished scrambled eggs onto everyone’s plate. Guilt ripped through Eve’s heart when Tom’s father bowed his head and prayed aloud. God knew the truth about her. Granny Maud said He kept a record of her sins in His book. Her page must be full. Robbie folded his hands and closed his eyes, too, his little legs dangling, his chin level with the table. He loved it here. Loved Uncle Tom and Grandma Van as much as he loved Nana and Grandpa Barrett. And so did Eve. It didn’t seem fair that Robbie would be punished because of her lies.
Eve struggled to smile and act nonchalant while they ate, flinching inside each time someone called her Audrey. After breakfast, she helped wash the dishes while Tom and Robbie fixed a bottle for the lamb. Then the three of them walked out to the barn, Robbie skipping ahead with the bottle, the dog at his heels. Eve gazed up at the blue sky and white clouds and knew, deep down, that her secret would be found out. Audrey was here in America and she wasn’t going away. And Eve also knew that it was more noble to confess than to be caught in the act. But she simply couldn’t bring herself to confess—not to Tom or anyone else. Not yet. Not until she exhausted every other possible way out of this mess. And she would find a way out. She had to.