29
The letter from his mother had been on William’s mind the entire weekend. No matter whether he hiked with Davy or preached this morning’s sermon, he couldn’t forget it. For whatever reason, he was afraid of his mother’s censure. Odd for someone his age. Blanche had nothing but respect for her. Perhaps his mother had changed. Blanche certainly had.
William sighed. He still had a month on the island. If the letter angered him, he’d have plenty of time to simmer down. Once back in Sydney, he’d be running from one appointment to the next with no time to think. No time for anything but preparation and presentation. This was the best time to deal with it.
He went into the spare bedroom, squatted, and hauled the suitcase out from under the bed. The suitcase stuck midway, as though it was as
