I realize I’m holding my breath, and exhale. Whatever the letter says, I’ve done everything possible to defend myself. I offer a quick prayer for strength. “Mrs. Wilson, please, what does the letter say?”
“Nothing useful, as is typical for churchmen. They want you back in Edinburgh as soon as possible.” Mrs. Wilson gives me a short hug. “I’m sorry for your trouble.”
I feel elated and distraught at the same time. Elated that I’m not dismissed. Distraught because I haven’t prevailed. I put the letter in my pocket and walk outside. Flora and Catriona sit sewing in the sun. They wave at me. I burst into tears.
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