The Hand-Me-Down Family by Winnie Griggs

if a hand had reached inside her chest and was squeezing her heart. That Emma and Simon had lost both their parents at once was an unthinkable tragedy. To have also lost every jot and tittle of their former life, including mementos of those dear loved ones—it added a poignancy that absolutely broke one’s heart.
    All they had left from their old life was each other.
    And God’s love.
    Callie’s arms ached to gather Emma up and hug the child for all she was worth. But that would serve no purpose right now, other than drawing attention to the child’s heartache.
    â€œReady to see the rest of the rooms up here?” Jack seemed impatient to move on.
    Callie nodded, glad for the distraction.
    Keeping a tight hold on her doll, Annabeth skipped ahead of them to the room across the hall.
    â€œThis used to be my daddy’s room when he was a littleboy,” she said as Jack opened the door. “And you, too, Uncle Jack, wasn’t it?”
    â€œThat’s right, Little Bit.”
    Callie tried to picture Jack as young boy, spending time in here with his older brother. Perhaps this was what had taught Leland that deep patience Julia always spoke of.
    Annabeth bounced onto the closest bed. “Daddy was getting it ready for you, Aunt Callie. See the pretty vase and lamp he set here?” She fiddled with her doll’s dress, very carefully not looking up. “That’s when he thought you were going to be my mommy instead of my aunt.”
    â€œHe did a very nice job.” Callie tried to ignore the heat creeping into her cheeks. Jack had no doubt suspected that the marriage between her and Leland was supposed to be a platonic one. But having this stark evidence blatantly revealed was mortifying. And somehow, having it revealed to Jack himself made it more so.
    To his credit, Jack gave no clue that he noticed anything out of the ordinary. And he didn’t linger in this room, either. With only a cursory look around, he herded them down the hall.
    â€œThis was Mommy’s workroom,” Annabeth explained before Jack had so much as opened the door.
    As soon as Callie stepped inside and saw the nearly finished baby quilt, she stopped in her tracks. It was such a painful, unexpected reminder of her friend’s death. Julia had slipped and fallen just one month before the baby was to be born. The ensuing early labor had killed both her and the baby.
    â€œMomma was making this for my new baby brother or sister.” Annabeth was standing beside her.
    Callie rested a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Yes, I know.” She stepped forward and fingered the lovely bit of piecework.“I tell you what, sweetheart. Why don’t we take this beautiful quilt and put it somewhere safe? One day, when you’re old enough, perhaps you can finish it yourself. Would you like that?”
    Annabeth nodded vigorously.
    Callie decided the girls—not to mention she herself—needed something more cheerful to focus on. She looked around the room seeking inspiration and found it hanging among the rafters.
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    Jack drifted toward the window, listening to Callie and the girls chatter. They seemed to be making a game out of identifying all the varieties of flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling.
    Callie was probably trying to lighten the mood a bit. He’d sensed the tension in her earlier. Was it because she was picturing the life she would have had here had Lanny not died? A life that was lost to her now?
    Unbidden, the memory of that moment when he’d taken hold of her hands returned. He had felt the pulse jump in her wrist, had suddenly become aware of her as feminine, small and vulnerable, yet full of warmth and a woman’s strength. It had taken a full measure of resolve to push that unwelcome awareness aside and move forward with the point he’d wanted to make.
    A pair of girlish giggles from across the room broke into his thoughts. Callie’s doing, no