by Emma Miller
When Greta had first arrived, she could hardly get the girl to eat enough to keep a sparrow alive, but now she ate like a blacksmith. It was a healthy thing to have a goot appetite. Maybe now Greta would put some meat on her bones. She suspected that meals were scanty at Greta’s parents because there were so many children to feed. Thank the Lord that had never been a problem under Honor’s roof.
Luke’s voice rumbled over those of Justice and Tanner, but Honor couldn’t make out the words. Whatever he was saying to them, it must have been the right thing because the fussing stopped. She sighed as she went to the refrigerator. She hated to admit it, but having Luke around did make her life easier. It was such a blessing to have another adult to lend a hand, and her boys trailed him around and pestered him instead of her. Plus, Luke had taken over milking and feeding the animals morning and night, leaving her free to do what needed doing in the house. Having an extra set of strong hands really helped on a farm.
Luke returned to the table with the two troublemakers. Both boys had apparently gotten over their disagreement because they were smiling as they climbed onto the bench and held up damp hands for inspection. Tanner’s were not as clean as Honor would have liked, but she wasn’t prepared to stall her meal any longer. She’d worked too hard to put it on the table.
Luke had also worked hard for the meal and he had to be starving. Since breakfast, he’d cleaned the horse and cow stalls, replaced a rotting windowsill in the front parlor, put weather stripping around the door so that wind and snow no longer blew into the hall and applied another coat of white paint in the bathroom.
“You know the old chicken house isn’t in such bad shape,” Luke said once Honor had taken her place at the table and grace was over. “The boys and I could clean it, make a few repairs and move the chickens out of the barn. All you’d need is wire and staples, and I saw two rolls of stock fence in the loft. It wouldn’t cost much, and the cow and horse would be a lot happier without the chickens dirtying their stalls.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Honor agreed. How many times had she had to wash down the buggy before she could be seen in public? Chickens were necessary, but they could make a mess. Like children, she thought and then smiled as she looked around the table at her little ones.
“I can definitely get a crew together to put a new roof on, but with the weather being unpredictable, it may have to wait until April or even May. I’ve got supplies being delivered to do a good patch job for the meantime.”
Honor noted that Luke’s mention of doing the roof in May indicated he thought he’d still be around in the spring. She decided not to make a comment on that. “Whatever you think is best to keep the buckets out of my kitchen,” she said.
“Honor... I was wondering,” Greta said.
“Yes?” Honor secured Anke’s plate to the table. The dish had a suction cup on the bottom, a useful device for keeping a toddler from throwing her entire dinner onto the floor. She handed her daughter a baby spoon. Cheerfully, Anke dropped the spoon, scooped up a handful of potatoes and stuffed them into her mouth.
“Spoon,” Honor said as she put it back into the little girl’s hand. “I’m sorry, Greta. What were you—” From the corner of her eye, she saw Justice slip a slice of sauerbraten off the platter and drop it on the floor. “Justice, stop feeding the dog from the table,” she admonished gently.
Justice stiffened and looked straight ahead. “I’m not.”
“Ith too.” Elijah pointed an accusing finger at his brother. “I thaw him.”
“Did not!” Justice shouted.
Honor put a finger to her lips. “Enough.”
Tanner elbowed Justice, who howled in outrage.
“Boys, please,” Honor said.
Baby Anke threw her spoon again. Luke’s hand shot out and he caught it in midair. He handed the spoon to Honor.
“Use your spoon like a big girl,” Honor said patiently as she gave it back to her daughter.
Just as Honor scooped some potatoes onto her own plate, Elijah turned over his glass of buttermilk. She jumped out of her chair to get a clean towel to clean it up, and Elijah started to cry. Justice took another piece of meat off the platter and dropped it under the table as Tanner neatly grabbed the slice of raisin bread that Greta had just finished buttering.
“Give that back,” Luke instructed, pointing at Tanner with his fork.
Tanner took a big bite and Greta tried to take the bread back. In an effort to play a game of keep-away, Tanner dropped the disputed raisin bread. Before anyone could retrieve it, the dog snatched the bread off the bench and ran to the far corner of the kitchen to eat it.
“Enough!” Honor threw up her hands in exasperation. So much for a peaceful, pleasant supper. “Any more nonsense, and you can leave the table. All of you.” She mopped up the spilled milk and refilled Elijah’s glass. He was still crying. “You’re fine,” she told him, softening her tone. “Accidents happen. Eat your supper.”
As Honor slipped back into her chair, Justice pushed Tanner and Tanner pushed him back. Justice reached across to take something off his brother’s plate and spilled his milk into his plate. The baby began dropping pieces of sweet potato onto the floor, and while Honor was trying to pick them up, Elijah dumped half the sugar bowl onto the table.
“I’m going for my wooden spoon!” Honor went to the cabinet drawer and came back with a big spoon. She rapped it on the table. Elijah giggled.
“Mam’s got the spoon,” Justice warned, looking down at his plate.
Tanner grinned.
“What does this mean?” Honor demanded as she tapped the spoon on the table. “It means be goot or else,” she threatened. “I will send you boys from this table without dessert.”
She hated to have to get the spoon. She’d never threatened her children with paddling or even a tap on the knuckles. Using physical force against a helpless child was just wrong. But the sight of the wooden spoon made them consider the possibility that they just might get a spanking one of these days.
“Boys, you should all be—” Luke bit off his words, put his head down and went back to his meal.
Honor removed Justice’s plate and got him another from the cabinet. “What were you going to say, Luke?”
“I’m not hungry,” Tanner said. “Can I have pudding?”
“Eat,” Honor told Tanner. “Otherwise, you’ll be hungry when you go to bed.”
“But I want rice pudding,” he whined. “With raisins.”
Honor grimaced. “I’m going to count to five and—”
“Flies!” Justice made a face. “You put flies in our pudding.”
“I don’t like flieth,” Elijah wailed.
Anke shrieked with laughter and threw her spoon to the floor.
“Visiting Sunday,” Greta announced. “On Sunday. Can I go?”
Flustered, Honor turned her attention to the girl. “I’m sorry. Can you what?”
“Go see Zipporah,” Greta answered. “On Sunday. That’s what I wanted to ask you. I could walk. You wouldn’t have to take me.”
“I don’t know.” Honor sat down yet again. She hadn’t yet taken more than a single bite and she was starving. She looked down at her plate. Some of the sugar Elijah had dumped had made it to her potatoes. She’d have to eat them that way. She couldn’t show the children that it was right to waste good food. “It’s too far to walk in this weather,” she told Greta.
“I think it would be nice if she went.” Luke helped himself to more green beans.
Tanner nudged Justice with his elbow again, and Justice punched him.
“Stop that!” Honor set her fork down sharply on the table. “Hitting is wrong. You shouldn’t hit your brother. Tanner, stop teasing him.” She glanced back at Greta.
“I promised Zipporah I’d come see her,” Greta said, staring at her plate.
“Surely y
ou can spare her on Sunday,” Luke suggested. “Greta deserves some fun.”
“Let me think about it.” Honor shook her head. “Three miles is a long way for a girl to walk alone.” As she pushed a forkful of potatoes into her mouth, she saw Justice slide under the table and out of sight. “Justice, back on the bench. You weren’t excused yet.”
“If I could borrow your buggy, I could drive her,” Luke offered.
“I don’t eat flies in pudding,” came a small, muffled voice. “Yuck.”
Luke glanced under the table. “Justice, did you hear your mother?”
There was a note of irritation in Luke’s voice, and Honor didn’t care for it one bit. “Not appropriate. Greta isn’t a child any longer,” she said. The baby was starting to fuss, so she got up and took her out of the high chair. She used the clean end of the towel to wipe off Anke’s face and hands and deposited her in the play yard.
“Maybe...maybe you could drive me, then,” Greta suggested, meeting Honor’s gaze. “Or I could take the buggy?”
“You told me you didn’t know how to drive a buggy.” Honor said. She shook her head when the girl’s face crumpled with disappointment. “I didn’t say you couldn’t go. But loading all of us up and driving you to the Kings’, it’s a lot for me to do, Greta.”
“How about this?” Luke offered, buttering a second piece of corn bread. “I’ll come on Sunday and watch the boys. You take the baby and drive Greta to her friend’s. You and Anke can visit with Katie at the mill or anywhere you want, and then stop for Greta when you’re ready to come home.”
Honor picked up her fork. “But it’s a visiting Sunday. You work here all week. On Sunday, you should be visiting someone.”
“I will be,” Luke answered with a wink at Tanner. “I’ll be visiting my favorite boys.”
Tanner threw his hands up and cheered. An echo came from under the table. Anke, imitating Tanner, clapped and shrieked with laughter.
Honor saw the joy on Greta’s face and couldn’t resist. “Ya, I suppose we could do that.” Her gaze strayed to Luke and she saw that he was watching her.
He smiled and she smiled back, and then she settled in to get at least a few bites of supper. Somehow, they got through the rest of the meal and things quieted down as everyone enjoyed their rice pudding.
Afterward, Luke offered to help with the dishes, but Honor refused. “You work hard enough around here,” she said. “You don’t need to do my work, as well. I have Greta to help me.”
“And Tanner,” he suggested. “He’s old enough to take some responsibility.”
She frowned. “He’ll be a man soon enough. I think a child should enjoy being a child as long as they can.”
Luke didn’t look convinced. She was sure he had something to add, but when she waited for him to argue with her, he simply shrugged and reached for his hat and coat. “I’ll be going,” he said. “Thank you for the meal. It was the best I’ve had since I can’t remember when. Best sauerbraten I’ve eaten, for certain.”
“Tomorrow I’ll make pies,” she promised, feeling her cheeks grow warm from his compliment. Suddenly all the planning to make the roast beef dish seemed worth it. “Sweet potato, I think. We’ve got a few baskets left in the root cellar, and they always turn out goot for me. You do like sweet potato pie, don’t you?”
“Love it,” Luke answered. “But then, there are few pies I don’t like.”
Tanner had come to stand beside her, leaning against her affectionately. “What kind don’t you like, Luke?” she asked.
Luke pulled on his hat and pulled a face. “Shoofly pie. Too sweet. And too many flies.”
Tanner giggled. “There’s no flies in shoofly pie.”
Luke glanced at the door, then at Honor. “Well, I guess I’ll be going. See you in the morning. Bright and early?”
“Bright and early? What’s bright and early to you?” she teased. “Justice is usually up by five.”
Luke grinned. “That’s a little early for me. At least, if I’m walking. It won’t be a problem soon, though.”
“You’ve found someone to transport your driving horses?”
“Ne, I decided to sell them. My cousin already arranged for a buyer. Charley Byler deals in horses here. He says he has a half Morgan, half standardbred mare that’s good for riding or driving. And she’s trained to a plow. I’m going to take a look at her on Saturday.” He opened the back door. “G’night, and thanks again for that wonderful supper.”
“’Night,” she called. When the back door closed, everyone scooted off, and Honor cleaned away the remainder of the supper, wiped down the table, and set it with clean dishes and silverware for breakfast. She’d wanted a few moments of peace and quiet, but her thoughts weren’t quiet. She kept thinking about Luke and how, even with the children’s mischief at supper, she had enjoyed the day. Usually, when it was time to put the kids to bed, she was exhausted, but not tonight. Tonight she felt restless, almost wishing she’d asked Luke to stay for a game of checkers and some popcorn.
She was just sweeping the last bit of dust into the dustpan when there was a quick rap at the back door and Luke stepped into the laundry room. “Honor?”
She paused, broom in hand. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” he said. “Quick. Put on your coat and come with me. There’s something I want you to see.”
“Outside? In the dark?” She looked around to see if any of the children were in sight. For once, the household was quiet. She could hear Greta upstairs, singing softly to the little one and her boys were playing a game in the front room.
“Trust me. Come on.” He flashed a smile that was infectious. “You’ll be glad you did.”
“All right,” she agreed, surprised by her own impulsiveness. She set the broom aside, shrugged into her coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck and followed him out into the night. The air was cold, but the moon was out, nearly full, illuminating the frosty landscape and making the icicles that draped from the trees and the eaves of the barn and house sparkle like the dust from angels’ wings.
“Watch your step,” he cautioned as she hurried down the porch steps. “Everything’s slippery.”
“I’m fine,” she answered. Her cheeks stung from the brisk air, but curiosity and excitement made her eager to see what all the fuss was about.
Together they crossed the icy yard, cut between the barn and windmill, and passed the two old apple trees, bare now of every leaf, limbs gnarled and twisted against the winter sky.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Shh.” He caught her hand as they moved over a low spot in the meadow just beyond the old chicken coop.
Surges of warmth shot up Honor’s wrist and arm as Luke’s fingers tightened around her hand. She would have protested his familiarity, but her right foot hit a patch of ice and she did almost lose her footing. Luke pulled her against him and then gently put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her to a crouching position. Before she could pull free, he released her and pointed to a rise in the field.
“Ahh,” she gasped. A cloud of condensation issued from her lips. Clearly visible above the winter grass, a fox—no, two of them—raced and leaped in the moonlight.
Luke smiled and put a finger to his lips.
Her eyes widened as she watched the foxes playfully chase each other back and forth over the crest of a small hill. In the moonlight, the beautiful and graceful animals were dark shadows against a silvery background. She couldn’t tell whether they were the native gray foxes or the smaller English reds, but it didn’t matter.
She and Luke remained there for long moments; how many, she couldn’t say. Her knees cramped and her fingers grew numb from the cold, but it didn’t matter. She’d been born and raised in the country, but she’d never seen such a sight. She might have remained until she suffered from frostbite if Luke hadn’t caught her elbow and
raised her to her feet.
“They may be at this all night,” he said softly. “You should probably get inside. It’s cold out.”
“I’m not cold,” she whispered.
The foxes must have heard their voices. One gave a sharp yip, and they halted, almost in midair, whirled and dashed away into the darkness. In an instant, the meadow was silent and as still as a painting on a January calendar page.
“Thank you,” she murmured, stamping her feet to bring back the feeling. “That was...magnificent.”
He chuckled. “Too good to watch alone. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“I did.” She glanced back in the direction of the house. “I guess I’d better get back.”
“Ya,” he agreed. “You should. And I should move along. I’ll see you safely to the door.”
She made a sound of impatience. “You think I can’t walk a few hundred yards to my own back door?”
“I’m sure you can,” he answered. “But just the same, I’ll walk you there. I’d not have you come to harm, Honor, not for all the wheat in Kansas.”
She laughed. “That’s a lot of wheat. You’re certain you wouldn’t consider it?”
He held her arm as they trekked back, following their own footprints in the light snow. “Woman, you would argue with a bishop, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe I would and maybe I wouldn’t,” she teased, refusing to look up at him, even though she wanted to. “But fortunately for me, you, Luke Weaver, are no bishop.”
* * *
Luke ended up getting his way about visiting Sunday. Honor left him with the three boys and drove Greta to her friend’s house. Zipporah was thrilled to see her, and Zipporah’s mother, Wilma, a jolly, round woman in a dark purple dress and apron, invited Honor and baby Anke to join them for the noonday meal. Honor refused, explaining that she’d be back around two for Greta. She was just turning to go when Freeman’s wife, Katie, appeared in the doorway behind Wilma.
“Honor! How nice to see you.” Katie stepped around Wilma and gave Honor a hug. “The girls seem to have hit it off. I’m so glad. Teenagers need friends their own age.”
