The brown flannel shirt Drew wore was too warm for early April in Washington, but he hadn’t seemed to notice. Surrounded by the stunning pale pink blossoms, the hard-bitten man Jo had once blamed for helping to ruin her life had startled her further by asking if she was okay these days.

“You’ve never married, Jo,” he’d said.

“I’m only thirty-three.” She’d laughed. “There’s still time.”

“I guess things are different now. Elijah’s never married, either, but I don’t think he ever expected to live this long. I’m not saying he has a death wish or anything. He’s just being practical.” Drew had paused, his face lined with deep wrinkles as much from a life spent mostly outdoors in the mountains he loved as from age. “We Camerons are a practical lot.”

Uncomfortable with his seriousness, Jo had gone for another lighthearted remark. “I don’t know that moving to Vermont in the middle of the Revolutionary War was all that practical. Then staying there. Your ancestors could have cleared out and joined the westward expansion.” She’d caught a falling cherry blossom in a palm and smiled at him. “Taken a flatboat to Ohio or something.”

“Harpers got to Vermont before any Camerons did.”

“Not all of us Harpers stayed,” she said.

“True. Jo, there are days…” He’d hesitated and gazed up at the cherry trees and the cloudless sky. It was one of those rare, glorious early-spring afternoons in the nation’s capital. Finally, he’d shifted back to Jo, with tears in his eyes. “I wake up on cold mornings and see the grandchildren you and Elijah should have had. They’re as clear to me as you are right now. They line up in front of my bed and look at me as if I did something wrong.”