Page 1 of The Sisters of Sea View
1
GOD, pick up the pieces.
Put me back together again.
—Jeremiah 17:14
APRIL1819
Sarah Summers carefully lifted the family heirloom, a warm mantle of nostalgia settling over her. The porcelain plate rimmed in gold had been painted with a colorful image of three sisters in Chinese robes, clustered close as a fourth read to them. Papa had given it to their mother long ago.
Sarah ran a gentle finger over the figures, a lump forming in her throat. Spying a streak of dust, she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and began wiping the plate.
At that moment, two of her sisters burst into the room, as different in looks as in temperament.
“Sarah, tell Vi to give back my straw bonnet.”
Viola scowled. “It’s not even yours. It belonged to—”
Realizing Viola was about to say the forbidden name, Sarah’s heart lurched and her hand with it, and there went the prized plate, crashing to the floor.
Oh no.Sarah knelt and began to frantically gather the scattered shards, inwardly chastising herself.Clumsy fool....Sliding forward on bombazine-clad knees, she stretched to reach every last fragment.
Could the broken pieces ever be put back together?
Standing nearby, Emily berated her twin. “See what you did.”
Sarah murmured, “Not her fault. Mine.”
Emily huffed. “Right. Nothing is ever Viola’s fault. She can do as she pleases, and we are all to feel sorry for her.”
“That is quite enough. Ow!” Sarah raised a pricked finger to her lips, tasting blood. “Now, would you both go and do something useful while I clean this up?”
With another huff, Emily turned and strode from the room in a flutter of pale muslin, Viola in her wake.
Her younger sisters had laid aside mourning gowns late last year. Sarah, however, was mourning more than one loss. She had worn black for nearly two years, even though she had never been married, and their father had been gone for less than a year.
She carefully settled the pieces into a glove box, planning to try to arrange them back into place and glue them together. Most of the fragments were fairly large, except ...Oh no.Three pieces had all but crumbled.
Pain knifed through her at the melancholy sight—a grim reminder that her family would never be whole again.
Retrieving a broom, she swept up the remaining dust. Then she went to confess to her mother.
Sarah found her in her room as usual, lying in a canopied, French sofa bed, her back propped with bolsters. Today, she was fully dressed in black crepe.
“I am so sorry, Mamma. I’ve done something clumsy and stupid.”
“What is all this fuss about?”
“I broke your plate.”
“My plate? Which?”
“The china plate, with the four girls?”
Sarah lay the box on her lap. Her mother’s soft eyes misted as she regarded its contents. “Oh, that is a shame.” She gingerly picked up a fragment.
“Careful,” Sarah warned. “I cut myself on one of those.”
