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BOOK EIGHT

The sorrow was almost unmanageable, but Abegail was doing what she could to smile through the suffering and give him that dreamy look of trust, love, and encouragement that she had practiced so many times. This was what she wanted—what she had hoped and schemed for. A bit of pain and a few months until she could finally reveal the scene with the Reverend Rolando, her father—a scene she had rehearsed in her mind endlessly—and then this man would take her away from here forever. She had envisioned this moment in vivid detail, imagining the joy and relief that would flood her heart as she left behind the endless monotony of this place.

Abegail dreamed of escaping the dreary, treeless expanse of Nolana, Kansas, a small town smack dab between nowhere and nothing. The landscape, flat and uninspiring, seemed to stretch on forever, a constant reminder of the limitations and stifling predictability of her current life. Her days were filled with the mundane routines of small-town existence, eac
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