Page 82 of Lightning in a Mason Jar

Thanks again to Phillip III, a piece of Winnie’s art would be displayed in the lobby of the completed shelter—a blown-glass creation of a mother and child nestled inside an oyster shell like a pearl.

Thea clapped her hands, in charge as their new de facto leader. “Don’t forget we’re having a pig picking over at the house tonight to celebrate. Howard has been out tending that pig in the roasting pit all night.”

Pushing Libby’s wheelchair, June cheered. “Party time. We’ll bring the Southern Comfort. Right, Libby?”

Libby smiled up from her chair wordlessly as they made their way toward the minivan.

Martin stepped forward, looking too handsome in his uniform. “Bailey Rae, I’ll get the heater running in the truck.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, squeezing her hand and whispering, “Great job here today.”

She stroked his bristly jaw. “Great group effort.”

They were all finding a niche. She’d already begun a soup kitchen from her shiny new food truck, a service that would expand upon the opening of Sanctuary House. June now offered GED prep classes, with Gia’s assistance. Thea, of course, was already keeping the books. Keith had even managed to hold down his new job and would be working on the construction crew contracted to build the shelter where the barn had once stood.

In a poignant twist, Libby had a contribution as well. For decades, she’d been hiding her skills as a pianist, and while words faded for her more and more each day, her fingers had rediscovered the keyboard. The shelter would be filled with music for both adults and children.

The playground had already been constructed by the high school’s carpentry class. Stepping stones that Winnie had made wound pathways through the equipment, a fanciful castle turret at one end and a row of swings at the other. Bailey Rae remembered well from her childhood the sensation of feeling safe under these very trees.

Taking one last instant to soak it all in, she traced the lettering on the rough-hewn sign proclaiming:Future Site of the Ballard-Davis Sanctuary House.

A tribute to Winnie, Russell, and Annette.

Their names said it all.

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