"Will you worry if it doesn‘t rain?" asked Caleb.
"Yes, but we‘ll get along," said Papa. "We always get along."
"Imagine having to leave," said Sarah.
Papa took off his jacket.
"We‘d never leave, Sarah," he said. "We were born here. Our names are written in this land."
When Papa and Sarah went inside, Caleb looked at me. I knew what he was going to say, and I didn‘t want to hear it. - P6
"Sarah wasn‘t born here," he said.
I picked up the pail of grain for the chickens.
"I know that, Caleb," I said crossly. "Papa knows it, too."
Caleb took a stick and bent down in the dirt. I watched him write SARA. He lookedup at me.
"I‘m writing Sarah‘s name in the land," he said.
"You can‘t even spell, Caleb," I said. "You can‘t."
I walked away. When I turned to look at Caleb, he was staring at me. I wanted to say I was sorry for being cross with him. But I didn‘t. - P7
"You fell in love with us," said Caleb in the doorway.
"I did that," she said. "First your letters. Then you."
"Did you fall in love with Papa‘s letters, too? Before you knew him?" asked Caleb.
I sat on the bed and watched Sarah‘s faceas as she remembered.
"Yes, I loved your Papa‘s letters," said Sarah softly. "I loved what was between the lines most."
"What was between the lines?" Caleb asked.
Sarah looked at me when she answered. - P12
"His life," she said simply. "That was what was between the lines."
"Papa‘s not always good with words," I said.
"Sometimes, yes," said Sarah, laughing. "But when I read your Papa‘s letters, I could see this farm, and the animals and the sky. And you. Sometimes, what people choose to write down on paper is more important than what they say."
Caleb didn‘t know what Sarah meant. But I knew. I wrote in my journal every night. And when I read what I had written, I could see myself there, clearer than when I looked in the mirror. I could see all of us: Papa, who couldn‘t always say the things he felt; Caleb, who said everything, and Sarah, who didn‘t know that she had changed us all. - P13
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