When the road home becomes daunting—sometimes a very capable girl on a bicycle can help find the way.   “Charming, surprising, familiar, and just downright wonderful.” —Allie Pleiter, author of Yukon Wedding and Bluegrass Blessings   When principal ballerina Sasha Davis suffers a career-ending injury at age thirty-eight, she leaves her Boston-based dance company and retreats to the home of her youth in Minnesota. But Sasha’s injuries limit her as much as her mother’s recent death haunts her. Concluding she can’t recover alone, Sasha reluctantly hires a temporary live-in aide.   Enter the über capable Evelyn Burt. As large-boned as Sasha is delicate, Evelyn is her employer’s opposite in every way. Small town to Sasha’s urban chic, outgoing to Sasha’s iciness, and undaunted where Sasha is hopeless, nineteen-year-old Evelyn is newly engaged and sees the world as one big, shiny opportunity.   Evelyn soon discovers Sasha needs to heal more than bones. Slowly, as the wounds begin to mend and the tables tilt, the two women form an unlikely alliance and discover the astounding power of even the smallest act done in the name of love. Finding Our Way Home is a story of second chances and lavish grace. Praise for Finding Our Way Home “Fans of Jan Karon will adore Charlene Baumbich’s warmth, wisdom, and inspiration.” —Susan Elizabeth Phillips, New York Times best-selling author of Call Me Irresistible “An endearing read of gifts…unlikely friendships, perseverance of will, enduring love, and without pause, the ever present gift of grace…all discovered amidst life’s most untimely hardships.” —Tresa Mott, The Next Chapter Book & Gift Boutique and Tresa Mott’s School of Dance “Descriptive passages of this story immerse one in a tender tale of hope and love. This touching story is a reminder to all of us that even the dark moments of our lives can be transformed through our own power and through true friendship.” —Kenneth von Heidecke, world-renowned choreographer “The book is an enthralling read that made me both laugh and cry. I literally couldn’t put it down. I suspect you will feel the same way.” —Midwest Book Review Bookwatch, reviewer Alma Bond “A heartwarming story of how life’s dance should always be done with partners—even when those partners are surprising ones. Charlene’s true-to-life characters find their way into your heart and stay there for a long time after the final chapter is done. You know them, love them, root for their happiness, and smile for hours when it comes. Charming, surprising, familiar, and just downright wonderful.” —Allie Pleiter, author of Yukon Wedding and Bluegrass Blessings “Charlene Baumbich does it again. She’s written an unusual, charming, and touching story. Two unusual heroines—an awkward teenager and a wounded ballerina—find the true meaning of loving and being loved. I devoured this book. Loved every unique word!” —Lyn Cote, author of La Belle Christiane Charlene Ann Baumbich is the author of the Dearest Dorothy series, Stray Affections , and Divine Appointments , as well as several nonfiction books of humor and inspiration. She is also a popular speaker, an award-winning journalist, and lives with her husband in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. Sasha readjusted the multicolored shawl until it was high and tight around her neck. As she secured it in place with her palm, the tip of her long, slim index finger landed on one of the dozens of glass pearlescent beads hand-worked into the elegant crocheted gar­ment, complete with satin trim. She repeatedly tapped the bead with her fingernail. The sound, very close to her ear, reminded her of the familiar tick of a metronome. No, it sounds more like the ticking of clock, counting down to death by regret. She shook her head to dismiss the dark thought and stared at the snowglobe on her side table, on which she set her ever-present cup of hot tea. It didn’t matter if the outdoor temperature was twenty-five or ninety-five: “Hot tea, please. That will do.” On this midsummer Saturday in Wanonishaw, Minnesota, even though it was a humid eighty-seven degrees outdoors, Sasha did not turn on the air condi­tioning, and still she felt a slight chill.    Pinning her eyes on the ballerina in the snowglobe, she slowly rolled the bead between her thumb and index finger, as if fine-tuning a memory on a radio dial. She rocked back and forth in the rocking chair, the only chair in the house that, for the most part, didn’t hurt her back. She nearly lived in it since she’d moved back in. It had been her mom’s favorite chair, the one she used to rock in while nursing Sasha. Her mom loved to tell the story about how Sasha often fell asleep while she fed her, how she had to tap the arch of her tiny bare foot to wake her. Sasha could hear her mother’s gravelly voice, see the spark in her Paul Newman–blue eyes. “You were such a tiny little bird, yet from the get-go, you were so uncommonly strong.” On the rare occasions