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“Hannah, who had been waiting in the wings for her cue, rushed onto the stage.

She struck a dramatic pose and declared, ‘Fear not, fair maiden, for I shall save thee from showing thy bloomers to the world!’ And with that, she whipped off her own cloak and draped it over my upturned skirts, covering my bloomers with a flourish.

The audience roared with laughter and applause as Hannah helped me to my feet.

We took a bow together, grinning from ear to ear.

And then, one by one, the other girls joined us on stage.

Brenda belted out a verse of ‘Amazing Grace,’ while Amy unfurled her mural like a banner. We linked arms and took a final bow.

“It was a moment I’ll never forget,” Jane said, her eyes misty with nostalgia. “We may have been orphans, but we had each other. And that was all that mattered.”

They walked a little further in silence, listening to the sounds coming from the river.

“Did you hear about the calf that escaped from McCoy’s last Tuesday?” Jack asked.

“Can’t say I have,” Jane replied.

“It ended up in the pastor’s vegetable garden. Ate almost all of his lettuce before they found it.”

“I have a feeling Hannah was not amused!”

They laughed heartily, their joy echoing along the riverbank. As they reached the water’s edge, they sat on a patch of lush grass, watching ripples dance across the surface.

“Jane,” Jack began softly, “I think there’s something special in moments like this.”

Her heart fluttered with hopeful anticipation. He leaned in, offering her a tender kiss filled with promises of a sweet future together.

As they walked back toward Susan and David’s house later that day, Jack paused and invited Jane to Brenda’s Christmas party. Her heart swelled with nerves and excitement as she accepted.

The following afternoon at Cassandra’s, Jane requested help making a dress for the upcoming party—something really special.

“Thank you,” Jane whispered, a sincere smile gracing her lips. Each stitch and seam melded dreams with fabric, anticipation growing for the enchanting evening ahead.

Jane and her sisters gathered in the living room. Brenda, Amy, and Hannah, all visibly pregnant, were engaged in familial conversation accompanied by the scent of fresh-baked bread and tea.

“Tim has been working as hard as he can to get the firewood we need for the winter.” Amy laughed while patting her belly. “Which is good news. This little one seems to always make me cold.”

Hannah smiled as she crocheted. “Maybe your chill is nature’s reminder to slow down and savor the moment.”

Jane observed her sisters with amusement before asking, “Have any of you considered names yet?”

“Johnathan if it’s a boy,” Brenda replied. “And Grace if it’s a girl.”

“We’re torn between Samuel and Benjamin,” Amy added.

Hannah set aside her crochet. “Names carry such weight—a single word defining so much of who we are.”

After a moment, the talk of names died down. “I know!” Jane said. “You should all name all of your daughters Jane, and tell them it’s because I’m their favorite aunt.”

Jane wasn’t surprised when Brenda hit her in the face with a pillow as they all laughed at the idea.

Jane’s gaze lingered on the curve of Brenda’s abdomen. The summer breeze carried distant sounds from David’s stables and rustling leaves of the ancient oak near their house.

“Isn’t it a marvel?” Jane whispered, imagining the connection between mother and child.

“Jane?” Brenda asked.

“I can’t help but feel envious,” Jane confessed, voicing her hidden longing.

Brenda offered a reassuring look. “You’ll have your time, little sister.”

“But isn’t it terrifying, Brenda?” Jane asked softly, seeking reassurance behind Brenda’s strength. “The responsibility and sacrifices?”

Brenda grabbed Jane’s hand. “Of course it’s terrifying. But those fears mix with hope and excitement. You learn to embrace it all.”

Brenda gave Jane’s hand a final pat before releasing it.

“You’ve seen me, all swollen and complaining about my aching back, haven’t you?

” she asked, smoothing her skirt over her knees.

“And yet, here I am, eager for this baby and all the babies to follow. The love and joy a child brings, they’re worth every sleepless night and every stretch mark. ”

“Really?” Jane’s skepticism was evident, but Brenda’s nod was confident.

“Truly,” Brenda affirmed.

Jane mulled over Brenda’s words as she followed the savory aroma that wafted from the kitchen. Amy stood at the stove, her apron dusted with flour, stirring something in a large pot with the same care she might cradle a newborn. She glanced up, her smile warm as the oven’s glow.

“Come here, Jane. Let me show you how to make Tim’s favorite stew.” Amy beckoned her closer, handing her a wooden spoon. “It’s all about patience and knowing just when to add each ingredient.”

As Jane took the spoon, she felt a kinship with the process—the gradual building of flavors, the nurturing of warmth. Amy guided her hand as they added carrots, then potatoes, timing each addition as if composing a symphony of tastes.

“Seems like there’s a knack to this,” Jane observed, watching the ingredients meld together under her careful stir.

“Like most things worth doing,” Amy agreed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, her movements fluid and assured. “It takes practice, and there’ll be mistakes. But in time, you learn the rhythms, the signs of when something needs a little more time or a bit less heat.”

A thoughtful silence fell between them, punctuated only by the bubbling of the stew and the rhythmic chopping of vegetables on the cutting board. In the simple act of cooking, Jane found an unexpected peace, a sense of what it might be to tend to a family with the same devotion.

“Thank you,” Jane said after a while, the gratitude in her voice extending far beyond the culinary lesson. “For showing me.”

“Anytime, sister.” Amy smiled at Jane. “There’s plenty more where that came from. And you know I’ve always enjoyed teaching you to cook new things.”

And with that, the seeds of confidence were sown in the fertile soil of Jane’s heart, watered by the nurturing wisdom of her sisters.

Jane carefully followed Amy’s instructions as she kneaded bread dough.

“You’re a natural, Jane,” Amy smiled. “Your little ones will never know hunger with you in the kitchen.”

Jane blushed, envisioning a table surrounded by family and filled with warmth. But as nightfall approached, doubt crept into her heart.

Later, Jane found Hannah crocheting intricate patterns in the living room. “Mind if I sit?” she asked, her voice heavy.

“Of course not,” Hannah replied calmly.

“Hannah,” Jane hesitated. “Do you ever fear... losing yourself? When you become a mother?”

Hannah paused and looked up at Jane. “It’s a fair concern. Motherhood demands much and can change you.”

“Change how?” Jane sought clarity.

“Priorities shift,” Hannah explained evenly. “Your needs often come second to those of your child.”

“But is it worth it?” Jane searched Hannah’s eyes for reassurance.

“Many say it is,” Hannah said, returning to her work. “But each woman’s journey is her own. I think I will be the happiest woman alive when I hold my child in my arms.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” Jane whispered gratefully.

“Motherhood isn’t the only path to fulfillment, Jane,” Hannah said, her fingers never ceasing their dance with the yarn. “Just as each stitch here serves a purpose, so too does every choice we make for ourselves.”

Later, Jane paced on the porch, her boots creaking on the wooden boards. The twilight deepened and the Texas sky filled with stars reflecting her inner turmoil.

“Lord,” she murmured, “I know You’ve heard my pondering all day. Maybe it’s time I listened for Your answer.”

Eyes closed, Jane inhaled the scents of earth and growth that surrounded her. A warmth blossomed within, mirroring a yearning for a child born from love rather than societal expectations.

“Goodness gracious,” she whispered, laughter bubbling forth. “This ain’t about what others think I oughta do. This is about the home and family I want to build.”

Imagining tiny feet pattering in a small house and a sweet voice calling her ‘Mama,’ her heart swelled.

“All right, then,” Jane said resolutely, eyes seeking the heavens as if to gain their blessing. “I may not know the first thing about being a mother, but I’ve got a heart full of love and two hands ready to work.

“Let it be, Lord,” she declared with newfound determination. “For every sacrifice, there’ll be joy tenfold.”

With her decision made, Jane stepped off the porch, ready to not only marry but to embrace motherhood with courage and immense love.