Wren has tried to shelter her only son from the tumult of the world. Now she's about to find sanctuary . . . in the last place she ever expected.

In tiny Cottage Cover, on the coast of Maine, Wren Evans is raising her gifted son, Charlie. A single mom, she's fought hard to give Charlie a stable, secure home life. When a prestigious music academy in Boston expresses interest in Charlie's talent, Wren is willing to move them again to make his dreams come true.

But Wren doesn't know that Charlie has been praying for her. And the answer to her son's prayers will change both of their lives. As Wren plans their move to Boston, life in Maine begins to fall apart. Her job is threatened with budget cuts, and Wren's grandmother, Ruth, arrives unannounced, with an outlandish request.

Ruth wants the family gathered together one last time, at the summer home where, years before, an accident shattered Wren's peaceful childhood. In the tumult, Wren finds a friend in a handsome, kind-hearted local, Paul Callahan.

When the family gathers in Cottage Cover, old wounds will be healed, new love will blossom, and the innocent prayers of a child will be answered in a most unexpected way.

1

The morning was already off to a difficult start

when Wren found the flyer tucked inside her ten-year-old son's

backpack. Sandwich making and mental planning for her meet-

ing with the library director came to a halt.

Where had the paper come from? Charlie's music teacher

must have given it to him. She couldn't think of any other

possibilities.

If not for the location given on the paper, Wren would have

dismissed it completely. But the touch of cold in the late sum-

mer morning, winter's gentle whisper, spoke to the deepest part

of her mothering instinct. Wren felt a chill down her back, and

she carried the flyer as she closed the kitchen window, reading

the words for the third time.

Summer Music in Malta

"Play with the masters where the masters played."

June 15­ August 1st

Applications due November 1st

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Charlie's father lived on the Mediterranean island of Malta,

or he had the last she'd heard any news about him. Charlie didn't

know this. He only knew his dad lived in Europe somewhere, and

that they hadn't heard from him since Charlie was a toddler. The

absent father was their norm and thus seemed no absence at all.

Wren wanted to wake Charlie and ask him about the flyer, but

instead she took a deep breath to calm herself. Anything that hinted

of her ex-husband sent her into a momentary panic. He'd aban-

doned them to pursue his dreams in Europe, and after ten years,

Wren had become warily comfortable that he wouldn't return.

She'd been packing Charlie's lunch and putting a quote for the

day into his backpack when she'd found the paper. The quote she'd

written was taken from Peter Pan: "All the world is made of faith,

and trust, and pixie dust."

The words took on new meaning now, and seemed more for her

than for Charlie. She wrote "Love, Mom" with a heart at the bot-

tom and slid the card into the zippered compartment. She kept the

flyer on the counter to ask him about it and made coffee.

On mornings like this, Wren wished for Anne Shirley from her

favorite childhood series Anne of Green Gables, or Jane Austen or

another of her friends from literature, to discuss life over coffee--

or perhaps tea would be more appropriate. Their blend of sense

and sensibility and bosom friendship would surely bring clarity to

the worries that kept disrupting Wren's sleep. Even Scarlett O'Hara

could offer brittle but sound Southern advice. Wren hadn't been

sleeping well, as if unwanted change tapped at her subconscious

and this flyer was the catalyst.

The women would sympathize with her past mistakes--falling

in love and marrying spontaneously without reason or logic, which

now meant raising a son without that all-essential male influence.

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She hoped they'd encourage her in the life Wren lived now--safe

and controlled, organized and meaningful.

"Mom," a voice sounded at the edge of Wren's thoughts.

Jane, what would you tell me to do with my life? And how much

therapy will Charlie need when he grows up?

Wren imagined Scarlett taking her by the shoulders and

declaring, "Fiddle-dee-dee--if I can fight the Union and save my

plantation, then you can keep it together!"

"Mom. Mom. Mom."

Wren turned from where she'd been staring into the open

refrigerator. "I didn't hear you."

"What book were you living in?" Charlie, still wearing his paja-

mas, rubbed his eyes with his head tilted to one side.

"It's Women in Literature month at the library." She smiled,

trying to brush away the lingering pessimism. Charlie nodded as if

this were the most normal thing in the world.

"Do your book characters know if there's any milk for my cereal?"

That's what she had been doing in the refrigerator. Wren

reached in for the gallon of milk, holding it up to see if any was left.

Charlie was notorious for leaving empty milk or juice cartons in

the refrigerator.

"Didn't we just buy this milk?" Wren asked as Charlie opened

the pantry to search for his cereal. She considered asking him about

the music flyer, but decided to wait until he was a little more awake.

"I've been drinking three glasses a day so I'll grow taller. I'm

the shortest kid in fifth grade."

"I remember your grandpa said he grew so much one sum-

mer that his classmates didn't recognize him when he went back

to school."

"That would be so cool. I wish that would happen to me."

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"Here, I think we have enough for your cereal." Wren set the

milk on the tile countertop next to his cereal bowl as Charlie

hopped onto the barstool with a box of Cheerios in his hand.

Wren returned to search the refrigerator, hoping to find a

hidden coffee creamer tucked behind the leftover lasagna, some

take-out cartons, the yogurt, and orange juice. She always bought

more than one creamer to avoid being caught without any.

The day will not be ruined because you don't have cream for your

coffee, she told herself.

"Mom, is everything okay?" Charlie asked as if he were an adult

stuck inside a ten-year-old body.

Wren glanced at him as she closed the refrigerator without

finding creamer. Perhaps this was the moment to ask him about

the flyer. He watched her with that morning sleepy look she found

adorable, and Wren decided to wait until he'd had a few more min-

utes to wake up.

"Everything is great. Not too much sugar this time. Cheerios

don't need sugar."

"Oh yes they do."

"Sugar stunts your growth."

"Funny. Now don't be avoiding my questions. Are you running

from the law or something?"

Wren raised an eyebrow and tucked a loose strand of her bru-

nette hair behind her ear. "I do need to pay a parking ticket."

Charlie poured his cereal, then flooded the bowl with the last

of the milk. He dropped in two spoonfuls of sugar and nearly a

third but stopped at Wren's warning expression.

"Maybe you're a double agent, and the gig is up."

"Double agent? Since I speak only English and a little Français,

I wouldn't make a good double agent."

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"Or so she says," Charlie said, giving her a scrutinizing look

before stuffing a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

"You can interrogate me further in one minute. I need to see if

the dryer got the wrinkles out of my blouse. Less than ten minutes

till takeoff--we're running a little late already."

"Don't spies know how to iron?"

"Not this spy," Wren said and opened the back door.

"I knew it," Wren heard Charlie say as she stepped onto the

cold stone walkway in her bare feet, making her wish for her slip-

pers. She shivered in the morning chill and spotted a single gold

leaf resting on the green back lawn. In the distance came the faint

rhythm of the waves on the rocks below the property.

Wren tiptoed across the damp lawn and picked up the leaf.

Summer was making its final exit, and before long the harsh Maine

winter would bind them inside or keep them wrapped up whenever

they opened the door, shoveling snow from the walkway and scrap-

ing their car windows every morning.

Sometimes Wren almost missed the Chicago winters when

at least the roads were cleared and the electricity didn't regularly

shut off. Wren and Charlie had survived one winter in the care-

taker's house on the property of her family's old vacation home,

but she'd planned for them to move on before facing another

one. Now they'd need to stock up on firewood and prepare the

house and themselves for winter's fury. More than that, the lon-

ger they remained on this property, the longer she felt they were

cheating fate.

This land could become a trap, holding them captive and steal-

ing their future as it had stolen so much of her family's life since

childhood. Wren wasn't willing for it to take Charlie's dreams and

future as well.

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When he was three months old, after his father left them,

Wren had held Charlie up to watch their first sunrise, just the two

of them. She'd promised that she'd take care of him, give him the

greatest life possible, and do everything she could to provide him

with the very best.

Wren had a plan, and if the pieces came together today, she'd

be much closer to fulfilling her promise to her son. Today might

be one of those turning-point days. The outcome of her meeting

with the library director would mean either proceeding forward,

or else--Wren wasn't quite sure and didn't want to consider it. The

morning interruption with the flyer and its reminder of her ex-

husband was a mere distraction, she decided. She needed to press

forward and keep ominous thoughts far away.

Wren tucked the leaf into her robe pocket and hurried into

the laundry area in the woodshed beside the house. As she opened

the dryer, the heat warmed her face. But it was too much heat. She

looked at the knob; it was pointed at hot.

"No, no, not this shirt."

Wren returned to the house, holding the shrunken vintage

blouse before her. Charlie nearly spit out a mouthful of Cheerios,

trying to hide his laughter.

"Poor Mom. Another shirt eaten by the dryer monster."

"I need to learn how to iron," Wren muttered to herself as she

sped down the hall to finish getting ready. This had been one of her

favorite blouses. She quickly tossed clothing from her closet until

she found a poor substitute in a plain blue dress shirt. She buttoned

it up, smoothing it over her black cigar pants.

"Charlie, are you ready?" Wren called when she heard him

using his drumsticks on various objects around his bedroom.

"I'm ready, Mom," Charlie called back, and she heard final taps

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on the elaborate chimes he'd created from various metal and glass

objects from around the house, including a metal sculpture she'd

made in college, some tin roofing from the shed, and several of

their drinking glasses. He burst into her bedroom and whistled

when he saw the clothing piled on her bed.

"I know why this is happening," Charlie said in a sing-song

voice.

"Why what is happening?" Wren tucked one last bobby pin

into her hastily twisted French bun and took a last look in the mir-

ror at her light makeup.

"All of our bad mornings this week."

"You can tell me in the car. I have an important meeting with

Dr. James right after I take you to school. We can't be late." Wren

should have been preparing for that meeting.

Charlie followed her down the hall. "Does the word important

come from the word import? Maybe it comes from people import-

ing ants. Get it? Import-ant?"

"How do you know a word like import?"

"Franklin's dad is in the import business. So what import-ant

meeting do you have?"

Wren noticed the tag on the back of Charlie's shirt. "If you get

your shirt turned right side out and get those teeth cleaned before they

turn green, then I'll tell you about my meeting tonight over tacos."

"Deal." He stuck out his hand, and Wren shook it quickly.

"Now go. Teeth."

Charlie turned back down the hall, and Wren dashed to the

kitchen where she gathered up her bag--checking to be sure the

book she was reading was tucked inside for her lunch hour--along

with Charlie's lunchbox and a cup of cream-less coffee.

"Charlie, let's go," she called.

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Wren saw the flyer as she heard his quick footsteps coming

toward the kitchen. Late or not, she had to ask. "I found this paper

in your backpack."

Charlie rushed into the room, ending in an abrupt skid as he saw

what she was holding. His face displayed his telltale guilty expression.

Before either could speak, the doorbell rang.

"Who's that?" Charlie asked, turning toward the door.

"Let me get it," Wren said, setting everything down on the

counter. Who could it be? They were too far out for many visitors,

especially for a Wednesday morning. Before Wren could reach the

door, it creaked opened and a face peered inside.

"Oh, lovely, you're home! I was afraid you'd already gone for

the day."

Grandma Ruth bustled into the entryway.

"Nana!" Charlie yelled, rushing past Wren and diving into

Ruth's arms. "Look, Mom, Nana's here."

Wren stared at her grandmother, unable to process the sudden

arrival.

"Are you staying with us?" Charlie asked.

"That I am Charles, that I am."

Through the front window, Wren saw a taxi turn around in the

driveway.

"Grandma." Wren embraced her petite grandmother. "What a

surprise."

"Not so much of a surprise. God sent me." Ruth produced a

sweet Betty White smile.

"Really? I knew it!" Charlie said. "Woohoo! I knew God was

listening."

What is going on? Wren tried to muster a sincere smile. "Did

you try calling? I didn't know you were coming."

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"Of course you didn't."

"Oh." Wren could think of nothing else to say. She wondered if

this had something to do with Charlie's suspicious behavior or the

flyer about Malta.

Charlie picked up one of Ruth's suitcases outside the open door

and carried it awkwardly into the living room. "Nana already said

it was God who sent her. Because I prayed, remember I prayed,

Mom? That's why all these things are happening."

Charlie and Wren had been praying more regularly at bed-

time. While she struggled to bring God into her daily life and the

little worries of the day, Charlie's faith seemed to encompass him

wholly. But Charlie's recent prayer had shaken her considerably.

"Yes, I remember, but I'm sorry, Grandma, we're late." She

looked at Ruth. "I could . . . take the day off?"

"Oh no, no, no, darling. I'll be just fine. It was a bit of a journey,

as you can imagine. I took the train up and then the taxi--it's been

a long night and morning. I'll enjoy resting up. Maybe I'll start

dinner?"

Wren raised an eyebrow. Ruth was notorious for her lack of

cooking skill.

"It's Taco Wednesday--you can come with us," Charlie said.

Wren carried in Ruth's second suitcase, surprised at how heavy

it was, then she grabbed Charlie's violin case beside the door. "I'm

really sorry to leave with you just arriving. Are you sure you'll be

okay?"

"I take care of myself every day, don't worry. If I need some-

thing, I have your cell phone and you have mine."

"Okay, and please take my bedroom, though it's quite messy

right now. I couldn't find anything to wear this morning. How

about . . . how about I come home for lunch?"

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Ruth folded her hands and smiled. "That would be lovely. I'll

make tea."

"Charlie, I have your violin case, you go get in the car . . . right

now," Wren said, emphasizing now as her growing tension leaked

into her tone. She smiled at Charlie's quizzical expression. "We

need to go, little man."

"Let me get my backpack." He raced back toward the kitchen.

"Sorry again to run, but love you, Grandma." Wren kissed

her grandmother's cheek and caught the scent of White Shoulders

perfume.

"See you at lunch," Ruth said. "I have a surprise to tell you

both."

"A surprise? You know I'm not big on surprises," Wren said with

a frown. She had rarely seen anything good come from a surprise.

"Then a little teaser. You're going to throw me a party!"

"Bye, Nana," Charlie called as he raced through the middle of

them, ran down the drive, and jumped up toward the overhanging

wisteria vine that grew over the front walkway.

"Yes! Nana's here," Charlie shouted as he opened the car.

"A party?" Wren asked, trying not to grimace.

"Well, not just you, but you, your sister, and brother."

"What?" Wren hadn't seen her siblings in years and only rarely

spoke to them. They'd gone their separate ways and for good rea-

sons, all stemming from their childhood here on this very land.

Ruth patted Wren's arm. "I'll tell you more at lunch. Stop wor-

rying, dear. Now off to work."

As Wren scurried to the car, she wondered what her grand-

mother was up to. And how in one morning had Wren and Charlie's

well-protected life started to seem so fragile and frayed?

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R eading Group Guide

1. A child's prayer and then a knock on the door start an

avalanche of change for Wren. What surprises have

shaped your life and forced you to grow?

2. When Charlie's father contacts Wren, she feels an

immediate panic and begins imagining all kinds of sce-

narios. Do your imagination and worries ever roll out of

control? What do you do to combat them?

3. Charlie's friendship with Franklin brings parenting

challenges to Wren that also strain her friendship with

Franklin's mother. Have you dealt with any similar situa-

tions? What lessons have your learned from them?

4. Wren struggles to bring her spiritual life, prayer, and rela-

tionship with God into her day-to-day living. Have you

experienced such a challenge? When have you felt God

being the most evident in your "normal" life?

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5. When contemplating the direction of her and Charlie's

future and going back and forth about the pros and cons,

Wren wishes she'd get all the right answers delivered in

a letter to her. Have you felt like this, and how has God

guided you through it? When has God's guidance been

clear?

6. Ruth tells Wren to "Seek and seek some more. Seek and

you will find. It's a promise." She also says that God

sometimes allows our lives to be messy, but that He's with

us in the mess. Have you felt God in the mess of your

life? Do you seek God and seek Him some more during

these times? When have you been sure that you've "found

God" or His promises?

7. Have you experienced a shift in perspective as an adult

that let you see a childhood situation with new eyes? Did

that shift help you to heal, forgive, or move beyond some-

thing in your past?

8. Through the story, Wren's life is changed by the past and

all its painful and healing truths. Have you experienced

anything similar to Wren's journey?

9. What does it mean to really find shelter in the promises

of God? Do you feel there are any situations where you

couldn't find shelter in God and what His Word promises?

10. Not all areas of our lives have happy or resolved end-

ings. Where is God in the midst of our tragedies and in

the areas that will never be resolved? Do you believe that

as "his eye is on the sparrow" that He is also there in the

intricacies of life for you? How do your beliefs shape how

you live?

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