The journey felt very different this time, as the roots we had previously left behind in Rushton were no longer there. Our maternal anchor wasn"t waiting at the red brick house for our return. The fields and houses rushed past the window of the train just as they had before. My mind wandered as I watched the scenes of green and blue pass the window like an impressionist"s painting.
I started to understand Gabe"s need to continue our search so soon, to fill his mind with other things. But I still didn"t understand his sometimes thinly-veneered distrust of Miranda and Fletcher. I liked them both; Fletcher with his gentle hesitation and quiet ways always seeming to be thinking deeply about things; Miranda, spontaneous and dynamic with strong views and confident ideas.
I knew Miranda had a s
