CHAPTER 14
HER VIOLIN DAYS WERE over. That’s all there was to it. She’d never play again, not like she used to. Her mom had warned her before she moved to Orchard Grove. “You’ll grow rusty without your lessons and your symphony.”
Katrina hadn’t believed her and like a baby had blindly followed her husband to this desert wasteland, where even the apple trees knew better than to grow in the middle of such an ugly, miserable town. The summer heat was oppressive, worse than anything she had experienced in Long Beach. Of course, the parsonage didn’t have an air conditioner, but even if it did, Greg would have refused to touch it. Heaven forbid they rack up an extra ten bucks on the church’s utilities bill.
Then after a bleak autumn came an even bleaker winter. Katrina had been so excited to
