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Neither was Eryn. She was not goodness and light and forgiveness and gentle harp music like the essence of some angelic being. She was bitter and angry and dark. Heavy metal music was a better representation.

She tucked the journal in the stack beneath her underwear in the rickety dresser drawer, fell back on the bed, and stared at the angled plank ceiling.

How could she still be so angry with her twin two years later? What caused that?

Eryn stifled a snort. Everything had caused it. Nothing she’d ever done had been as good as when Amelia did it. Eryn had had a slower start, in and out of hospitals a lot in the first couple of years, giving her sister a head start.

Amelia got better grades without even trying… but turned down her scholarship. Yeah, she said she hated small towns, but she’d hated hard work even more, and college would have required effort.

Amelia had snapped up every job she’d ever applied for but seemed bored after a while and drifted on to something else.

Eryn had started busing tables in high school and had worked her way up at the same diner until this move had forced her hand. Had her stick-to-it-iveness done her any good? Not likely.

Maxwell was giving her an opportunity to shift gears, not just locations. She didn’t have any of the skills required for running a gift shop. She should just tell him no, that she was happy in the kitchen.

But she wasn’t happy there… not that she knew for sure, since she wouldn’t even start until tomorrow. However, the person who’d been in charge of the gift shop hadn’t had the skills, either, by the looks of things. Eryn couldn’t do worse.

Or… maybe she could. Maybe she’d put herself forward and then fall flat on her face with the entire staff of Sweet River Ranch watching.

With Maxwell watching.

Grr. Why did she care what he thought? He’d been on Amelia’s radar, which should make him dead to Eryn, not by sister-code, but by default. She’d had so little that was hers alone, and here she was, a thousand miles and two years from her last interaction with her sister, and the only man who’d caught her attention had also caught Amelia’s.

If her twin were here now, Maxwell would be flashing those dimples at Amelia, not Eryn. His opening line at the reunion had been sympathy for Amelia’s passing, not, “Hey, how have you been, Eryn?”

Even here at the ranch, she wasn’t free from Amelia. It was partly her own fault, though, since she kept reading her sister’s old journals. She should start a bonfire and toss them in. Was there any point in rubbing salt in old wounds?

The sting reminded her that she was second best. Even Dad kept saying things like, “Amelia would have loved it here.”

No, she wouldn’t. She hated farms. Hated smelly animals. Hated hicks.

But she’d had a crush on Maxwell Sullivan, so maybe she would have approved of the move.

“Eryn?” Dad called from the main floor. “I’m headed for bed now. I’ll be up early to feed cattle with Joseph. Will you be okay?”

I’m 28 years old, Dad. It’s not my first day of kindergarten. Of course, I’ll be okay.

She forced a lilt into her voice. “Have fun! I’m working from nine to one. Maybe I’ll see you in the dining hall at lunch.”

“I think you’ll like working for Nadine. She seems nice.”

Eryn rolled her eyes, thankful Dad couldn’t see. “Yes, she does. See you tomorrow, Dad.”

“Good night.” His bedroom door closed.

She should turn out her light and try to sleep, too, but her brain was bouncing all over the place. Her gaze brushed over her Bible on the nightstand. She hadn’t been reading regularly since before the reunion.

Eryn winced. Since way before the reunion.

God felt so distant.

What was the saying? That God hadn’t moved. She had. If she turned around, He’d be right there, close by, like He’d always been. But… had He ever truly been there?

She could scarcely have grown up in Gilead and attended the Bible college’s passion play every year since childhood without recognizing and accepting Jesus’ sacrifice on her behalf.

Eryn believed it. She did. But God still felt distant.

She picked up her Bible and paged through it. Where had she even been reading when she’d trailed off last time? Ugh. It had been that long.