Help children understand the sacrament of Baptism with this scrapbook record of the day they were welcomed into the Church. An introduction for elementary school children, along with pages for photographs, prayers, and memories, make this an excellent gift for your child and a helpful teaching tool.

After being brought up in poverty on the mountains above Winding Ridge, Patty is living an unaccustomed life of comfort and prosperity in Tuesday's suburban home, but she cannot completely relax, aware as she is of the looming menace of Jacob McCallister. Her haunting dreams foretell the fulfillment of his threat to hold Tuesday and her once again under his total control. The echo of his warning hangs over their everyday lives. The stress of living under the cloud of being taken back to the remote mountain cabin gives fodder to Patty's dreams, and her night screams keep Tuesday in constant dread. Patty's enjoyment of her time with Tuesday is short lived. On a quiet night, McCallister steals into their home and brings life as they know it to an end. Knowing that Detective Cliff Moran could lead the authorities straight to his mountain home, McCallister enlists Aunt Aggie as an accomplice and takes his little, unwilling family to a place called Broad Run, where Patty will meet her destiny. Neither Moran nor the authorities would associate Broad Run with McCallister, who keeps his women and children in a remote cabin nestled above the small town of Winding Ridge, while he has been spending most of his time living comfortably in a modern home, indulging himself with the large sums of money he has gleaned from the diabolical use of his family. As the story unfolds, Patty and Tuesday are reunited with Annabelle, Rose, Daisy, Joe, Sara, and Aunt Aggie-the much -loved characters who continue to keep the readers of The Cabin Series clamoring for the next exciting installment.

From C. J. Henderson, author of two previous books in the Cabin series--a new novel set in the hills of West Virginia, a story about men and women and the secrets they keep . . . (DAISY AND AGGIE) started up the mountain, each carrying a bag with Aggie's meager possessions, although these days she had more clothing than she'd ever had. Joe was more thoughtful of the women's needs than Jacob had ever been. Under Jacob's care she'd posesssed only a few feedsack dresses. Now she had a few storebought ones and shoes that fit properly, and Joe had bought her a hairbrush, hand mirror, and comb. The mirror was the only one the women had ever seen except for the old one Daisy had allways cherished. It was so old and faded it gave a distorted view, revealing only a hazy image. They opened the door--it had no lock on it when Booker had rentd it and it had none now. Daisy gasped. "Look at this." The cabin was spotlessly clean, and it looked more like a room pictured in a magazine than Aggie's cabin. "I've done died an' gone to heaven, so I have," Aggie said with her hand over her heart. "Tell me I'm not dreamin'." Daisy walked around the one-room cabin and touched everything, while Aggie stood and stared. The Bookers were apparently gone for good, as thier personal items were gone. Even though they had left the generator running, the best thing was they had left the lovely furniture behind--maybe because they had discarded the old homemade furniture Aggie had used all her life.

PATTY COULDN'T TELL WHETHER THERE WERE PEOPLE LIVING IN THE house or not, but it was definitely the house she was looking for and obviously still under construction. The newness and grandeur of the house itself seemed odd, as it had been restored over an old stone foundation and built on grounds that had been neglected for years. Ornate gothic gates, attached to a seven-foot, ancient wrought-iron fence surrounding the property, stood one at each end of a brick driveway with weeds that, sprouting along the entire expanse, made it evident that the fence and gates had been put up in the distant past and were rarely used now. The driveway met Route Seven at the beginning and at the end, forming a horseshoe. Each of the gates, wide enough to accommodate a car, was securely locked, but there was a third one, a narrow opening to an overgrown footpath near one end of the driveway, and it was invitingly ajar. Patty pulled to the side of the road and climbed from the car. As she stood there wondering what to do next, she realized that the scene around her was hauntingly familiar. The hair stood up on the back of her neck as she surveyed the abandoned road, aware that the wind was whipping up, causing dead leaves to swirl around her feet in little funnel clouds. Her breath caught in her throat. She was standing in her own nightmare.