Maybe it was the fact that they were all together again—North women underneath one roof. Maybe it was seeing Joan’s drawing and the rush of love and protection that had welled up in her in that moment. Wanting Joan to always cherish her gift made her want to honor her own. August couldn’t rightly explain it herself, but she figured her mother would have been right proud. So, maybe she did it for her. How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
