Page 128 of My Heart Will Find You

She glanced back to Max. He was still sound asleep, so Etta allowed herself to look through the windshield at the church.

Where once had been a rustic, thrown-together structure, there was now a magnificent building. She knew enough about architecture to know it was Romanesque, simple, elegant, timelessly beautiful. Like Henry’s house.

It was all brick. The center had a peaked roof, a round window in the apex, and an enormous, welcoming door. It was flanked by two towers with arched windows, a clock in each one, and topped by two very tall, pointed roofs. It was glorious. Stunning, really.

As Etta leaned on the steering wheel, she felt enormous pride. She knew Cornelia—her friend—had designed this.

The door was slightly open, and she wanted to see the inside. Opening the car door didn’t so much as make Max stir, so she went up the stairs.

Inside, the church was long and narrow. At the far end was a domed ceiling that had been painted with angels.Henry did that, she thought.

There was a brochure on a table by the door. She put a twenty in the box, stuck the leaflet into her pocket, and walked down the aisle. There was an embroidered cloth near the pulpit. It was old and yellowed but exquisite. In the lower corner were the initials ALA. Alice Lawton Adams.

Etta turned back to look at the interior of the church, admiring its majesty as well as its beauty.

On the walls were plaques with names and dates. She walked along to read them, down one side, then up again. They were dedicated in memory of loved ones. World War I, World War II, the Korean War. Vietnam. One was to“a loving mother and the best cook in the world.”Etta paused at a large plaque.For John Kecklin, whose generosity built this church.

“Well, Mr. Kecklin,” she said, “looks like you got the remembrance you wanted so much.” There was a small, rather insignificant plaque nearby.Our eternal gratitude goes to Cornelia Kecklin Lloyd, who designed this church.

Smiling, Etta kissed her fingertips and placed them on the bronze plate. Cornelia had used her talent in a way that benefited everyone.

When Etta reached the front, she saw a short red curtain on the wall. She wondered what was behind it and pulled the cord.

At the sight, she stepped backward.

On the wall was a big gray metal slab. It had the profiles of a man and woman on it, facing each other.

The portraits were of her and Max.

It said the church was dedicated to Henrietta and Maxwell Lawton. Below, in smaller letters, it said,Max died saving others, and his beloved wife died minutes later. They leave behind many people who will love them forever.

Etta staggered back as though she’d been hit. Turning, she ran down the long aisle, then out the door. Seeing that tribute made what happened too real. Until now, she’d been able to block it out, but the truth was finally hitting her.

She didn’t know what would have happened if Max hadn’t stepped out of the car. She didn’t want him to see her in a state of panic, or in any deep emotion. Nor did she want to have to explain why she was near collapse.

Max was stretching and looking around at the town. “Cute,” he said.

She didn’t know if that was a compliment or a disparagement. She stepped away from the church and went down the stairs.

As he was opening the back of the car, he looked up at the church. “Nowthatis magnificent. Wonder why it was built in some two-bit cow town?”

“So the town and the people would be remembered forever,” she said. “They succeeded.” He was pulling out his camera equipment. “Do you mind doing that later?” she asked. “It’s past lunch time, and I know a great picnic area.”

Anything to give me a break from here, she thought.

He slid the case back into the car. “Great idea. Want me to drive?”

“I couldn’t tell you how to get there. I’ll just pretend this is a real bronco and follow its lead.”

He looked at her in surprise, then said, “I like that idea.”

She had no problem finding the stream, the place that had so many memories. But they were thoughts of peace and love, while the church held reminders of the end of life.

“This is great,” he said as he got out. “Is that a sod house?”

Etta turned toward it. When she’d been there with Zack, the house had fallen in, but now it had been restored. Outside there were signs with pictures describing how it had been made. “Yes, it is.”

“Dad will want photos of that!”

---