by Emma Miller
The llama bobbed its head up and down as if in answer.
“One of God’s creations,” Honor said. “I’ve never seen one this close up.” And then she turned toward him, her eyes shining in the light from the buggy.
“Beautiful,” he said, not thinking of the animal but of the woman standing in front of him.
She smiled at him. “We’d better make a dash for it. We don’t want to make anyone wait on us. And Heaven knows what mischief the children will get in.” She dusted the hay off her hands. “Maybe I will take the offer of that umbrella.”
He grabbed the umbrella out of the buggy and opened it.
“It’s a big umbrella,” she said. “Room for both of us.”
Together, they dashed through the rain to Hannah’s back door. Raindrops hit him in the face and pattered against his coat, but he barely noticed. His heart was too full of possibilities and a sense that all would come right between the two of them—and that the woman he loved would never fail to surprise him.
* * *
Hannah and Albert proved as welcoming and cheerful as Rebecca had promised they would. Honor already met Leah, Susanna and Anna previously, and tonight she became reacquainted with Hannah’s other daughters, Miriam and Ruth, as well as Grace, who was a Mennonite. Luke seemed to hit it off with Albert and his sons-in-law, and Tanner, Elijah and Justice quickly made new friends among Hannah’s grandchildren.
Even Anke seemed to feel at home among their new friends, laughing and clapping as she was passed from one woman to another. By the time supper was over, and it was time to let the children play and the adults have their coffee, Honor felt at ease enough in Hannah’s house to help Rebecca and Grace clear away the dishes and make fresh coffee.
“It’s rare we eat in the big parlor,” Rebecca explained, setting down a stack of dishes, “but Mam wanted to be certain there was room for everyone at the tables at one sitting.”
Several children, including Tanner, a boy his age and a little girl in a green dress and a student’s black kapp, dashed through the kitchen, apparently engaged in a game of tag.
“Amelia, J.J., slow down,” Rebecca called. “This is your grandmother’s house, not a racetrack.”
“No running in the house,” Honor admonished her son.
“Why don’t you all go upstairs to the playroom?” Grace suggested. “I’ll call you when Grossdaddi is ready to cut his cake. And if you see Koda, tell him that he’d better be a good boy, or else.” She smiled and grimaced. “My Dakota is the dark-haired one, and he’s a handful.”
“No worse than Amelia,” Rebecca said. “Winter’s always the hardest. Caleb says you can hardly blame the kids. They have all that energy and can’t get outside to run it off.”
A burst of children’s laughter came from the utility room, and the group trooped through again. This time, Honor counted five children, two of them hers. She wanted to tell them to go sit somewhere and find a quiet activity, but she didn’t want to embarrass them in front of their new friends.
“We’re a big family,” Grace chimed in. She was another auburn-haired Yoder girl, with blue eyes and lovely features. Her Mennonite prayer kapp was smaller and her blue dress bore a pattern of tiny flowers, but she wore the same white apron as her sisters. “Keeping us straight must be confusing to those who don’t know us well, but you’ll soon sort us out. I’m so pleased that Mam and Dat Albert invited you to join us this evening. And I wanted to congratulate you,” she said as she wiped down a kitchen counter. “I just heard the news.”
Honor stooped to clean spaghetti sauce off Elijah’s chin. Her boys had been surprisingly good at supper, so happy at being with a new group of children that she’d hardly heard a peep out of them from the long kids’ table during the meal. “What news?” She brushed a lock of hair out of her youngest son’s face and watched him dart off to find his brothers.
“Your courtship,” Grace said. “You and Luke. He seems a fine choice, and he’s so good with your kids.”
Honor straightened and forced herself not to show her impatience. “Luke and I aren’t courting,” she said quietly. “I don’t know where the rumor got started. He’s working for me, but Luke isn’t my beau and we have no arrangement.”
Grace’s bright eyes widened in surprise. “You aren’t?” She brought her fingers to her lips. “I’m sorry, I heard—” She glanced at Rebecca, who was dumping ground coffee into the commercial-sized coffeepot.
Rebecca grimaced. “My fault, Honor. Don’t blame Grace. I’m the one who told her. We saw you together at Byler’s twice, and someone told me...”
“It’s okay,” Honor intoned.
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Now I’m embarrassed. I heard that the two of you are attending church services together, and we assumed that you and Luke were... Sara told Mam that you and Luke were a perfect match, and I thought...” She shrugged. “I am sorry.”
“Ne, it’s fine,” Honor assured her. “I just wanted you both to know that it wasn’t true. People keep assuming that just because—” She glanced at them. “People just assume,” she repeated, feeling awkward that she was making such a fuss over the issue.
Grace chuckled. “That’s what happens in a small community. We get involved in each other’s lives, sometimes too involved. But, I promise, we mean well.” She and Rebecca gathered up dessert dishes. “Can you grab those forks, Honor? We’d better get back to the party before we miss something.”
“Dat Albert has a new Bible game that he wants to play before the cake,” Rebecca explained. “It’s something like bingo using Old Testament people and objects.”
“That sounds like fun.” Honor picked up the tray with the forks and spoons and followed them out of the kitchen.
Albert’s game was fun, especially when everyone began shouting out when they could fill a square on their card. No one else asked about her involvement with Luke, and she relaxed and enjoyed herself. Anke crawled up into her lap and nodded off to sleep, and Rebecca showed Honor a daybed in the adjoining room, where her own baby was sleeping.
“We’ll leave the door open,” Rebecca whispered. “That way, we’ll hear them if they make a single peep.”
Hannah’s daughter Susanna, and Anna’s oldest girl, Naomi, gathered the other children in the kitchen with crayons, colored paper, old magazines and paste so that they could fashion homemade birthday cards for Albert. That left Honor free to join the others in the next round of bingo.
The mantel clock had just struck eight thirty when Hannah suggested that it was time to cut the cake and get the little ones home to their beds. Honor was collecting bingo cards on her side of the table when there was a loud crash and a chorus of children’s shouts from the kitchen. Luke jumped to see what had happened, with Rebecca, Charley, Ruth and Hannah right behind him. Honor hurried around the table and through the kitchen hall.
“Atch,” Hannah exclaimed from the kitchen. Charley erupted with a belly laugh and moved aside to allow Honor to enter the room.
Honor froze and gasped, her hands flying to her head. The door to Hannah’s pantry stood open, the doorway filled with a tide of dry dog food. Buried to his knees in kibble was a wailing Elijah, and Justice was tugging frantically on his brother’s arm to pull him to his feet. J.J. and Amelia stood off to the side, giggling, and a smaller child hid, wide-eyed, behind Naomi. An olive-skinned little boy with dark eyes and black hair that stood up like wheat spikes had run to help Justice and was skating on the spilled kibble.
Honor stood frozen to the spot. Elijah was yelling too loudly to be hurt, and there was indignity rather than pain in his voice. Justice was obviously unharmed. The only one not present was Tanner. Heat flared under her skin. What had her children done now? Mortification mixed with her fear that Tanner might be hurt. She tore herself from inaction and started forward, but Luke was quicker.
He scooped up Elijah, judged him sound and
passed him, still protesting, to Honor. A glance at Justice sent him running out of the kitchen. “It’s not a big deal,” Luke said. “Just some spilled dog food. Hannah? Could I have a broom and dustpan? We’ll just scoop it up and put it back in the bin. What’s it got to be fifty, sixty pounds, maybe? We’ll have it cleaned up in a jiff.”
“Tanner?” Honor called, wondering where he had gotten to. She clutched Elijah against her and gently bounced him. “Hush now, Elijah. Hannah, I’m so sorry.”
Hannah laughed. “I told Albert it was silly to store that kibble in one big can. He got a good deal on broken bags at the store, and he insisted none of it go to waste. Someone’s always dropping strays at our farm. He makes certain they’re healthy and well mannered and then finds them homes. I think we’re feeding five dogs now.”
“Seven, Mam,” Rebecca corrected. “The one had two puppies this morning.” She nodded to Luke. “The cake is on the top shelf.” She pointed. “Do you think you could pass it to me?”
“No problem,” Luke said, wading through the kibble. He took the large cake off the top shelf and gingerly made his way back to the pantry doorway, where he passed it to Rebecca.
Just then, Tanner popped up from behind a table in the pantry and darted for the doorway, sending dog food flying.
Honor reached for him but he slipped past her and ran through the kitchen, toward the parlor.
“I’m so sorry,” Honor repeated to no one in particular. She put Elijah down, and he followed his brothers.
Ruth and Charley each returned with a broom and a dustpan. “I’ll help Luke with cleanup,” Charley said. “No need to worry.”
“Let’s leave them to it,” Hannah declared. “Capable hands.” She waved her family and guests back into the parlor. Ruth brought the coffeepot, and Rebecca, the cream and sugar.
“What was all the fuss about?” Albert asked when they all returned to the table.
Hannah laughed. “Kibble. Somehow, the bin of kibble tipped over. But your cake is fine.”
“A good thing I put it up high,” Ruth said.
They hadn’t finished the first cup of coffee when Luke and Charley joined them, Charley carrying the cake decorated with a hand-carved wooden llama and a circle of candles.
“If that thing looks more like a goat than a llama, don’t blame me,” Charley said.
Everyone laughed and admired the cake.
“Your pantry is restored,” Luke declared. “The dog food is all back in the bin with the lid on tight, and every piece accounted for.”
“Not every piece,” Charley teased. “I think Luke ate a couple.”
Luke laughed. “That was you, Charley.”
“Exactly what happened to my dog food?” Albert asked.
“Some of the children, who shall go unnamed—” Luke glanced at Honor and she mouthed a silent thank-you “—were admiring the cake from the top of the kibble can. The can tipped over and...” He spread his hands and chuckled. “The rest is history.”
Laughter rippled around the table. “If Charley wasn’t in here when the bin went over,” Ruth said, “I would have suspected him. His mother told me he once fell into a barrel of pickles.”
“He must have smelled like a dill pickle for weeks,” Anna’s husband, Samuel, said before topping all the stories with his tale of spilling a bucket of maple syrup in the middle of a church service at the bishop’s house.
Someone lit the birthday candles, and family and guests joined in to sing “Happy Birthday” to Albert. Cake was enjoyed by all, coats and hats were found, babies were bundled up and men went out into the night to hitch up the horses.
When Honor carried a sleeping Anke to the buggy and made certain Greta and the boys were safely inside, the worst of her embarrassment had passed. Hannah and her daughters hugged Honor and told her again how happy they were that she’d come, and Albert told her to come back anytime.
The rain had let up, and a sliver of a moon peeked out between the clouds as Luke guided the horse down the country road. With the children and Greta in back, Honor was all too conscious of the strong male presence beside her.
They were almost home before she finally spoke up. “It was wonderful, what you did for me tonight,” she said quietly. “For my children. Cleaning that mess up. Thank you.”
He chuckled. “It was a lot of dog food, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose Tanner was the culprit.”
“Possibly.” He looked down at her. “I think you’ll have to ask him that tomorrow.”
“The two oldest know better.”
Luke smiled in the darkness. “There was no harm done.”
“But they’re mischievous,” she said, feeling guilty again. “And I told them to be on their best behavior.” Would Hannah think she was a bad mother for not demanding answers on the spot? For not punishing them? For not even making them clean up the mess? Was she? She hadn’t known what to do. She still didn’t. But Luke had. Luke had come to her rescue. She sighed. “You are an amazing man, Luke Weaver,” she said.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you?” he replied.
And they laughed together.
Chapter Eleven
Honor glanced up from her sewing machine to the mantel clock. The morning had slipped away as quickly as most days did. She’d fed the children, cleaned up the breakfast dishes, washed and hung clothing on the line, baked biscuits, put a chicken in the oven to roast for the midday meal and had churned some fresh butter to spread on the bread.
She did make good butter, she had to admit that. Good butter making was a gift. Not every woman possessed it, but she wasn’t showing pride in acknowledging that hers was worthy of praise. Nothing that came from the store tasted as rich or as sweet. Luke had even said as much to Hannah at the birthday supper.
She’d had such a good time that evening. In spite of the mischief with the spilled dog food, she’d enjoyed herself. It was wonderful to be able to get out of the house and make new friends, but most of all, being with Luke—having him come to her rescue—had warmed her heart.
He seemed to know instinctively what to do with her boys. And, in doing so, he lifted a heavy weight off her shoulders. For the first time in her life, she felt that she wasn’t alone in the responsibility for her children. It was silly, of course. She and Luke had no commitment to each other. Hadn’t she told him that he was only here on her farm to work? She’d implied, if not said directly, that there was nothing between them and never would be again. The question was, did she believe that anymore? Had she been able to do what Sara had suggested? Was she letting go of the past and looking at the future?
She looked back at the half-stitched seam on Tanner’s new trousers. A few more minutes and she could finish. He was growing as fast as a pokeweed. Sometime this winter, her precious little son had sprouted into a long-legged colt. His wrists were shooting out of his sleeves, and his trousers were suddenly bursting at the seams, too short to wear in public.
All three boys were outside, watching Luke repair the windmill, and Anke was napping. Greta was setting the table for dinner and keeping a close eye on the chicken. The previous afternoon, the two of them had made applesauce with apples that were growing soft and prepared potato salad. Earlier, she’d sliced carrots and onions to roast with the chicken, so putting the noon meal together would be a snap. She knew that she should put up the sewing and summon Luke and the children to the table, but quiet was rare in this household. She’d always enjoyed sewing, and she savored her time alone to think while her hands were busy.
She felt as if she had to make a decision about Luke. The thought had been nudging her for days. Should she agree to allow him to court her, as Sara so obviously wanted? Or should she send him on his way, as Aunt Martha had urged her? She knew that she needed to make up her own mind. That was the problem. She didn’t know her own mind. Luke seemed to be the ans
wer to her prayers and to the empty place in her heart. But...
What if she couldn’t let go of the hurt he’d caused? Maybe the small voice in her head that urged her never to trust him again was the voice of reason. But sending him away now? Could she do that? Could she be certain that another man would fit into her family so easily? Would she ever feel the kind of connection she felt with him?
God forgive her for thinking ill of the dead, but she and Silas had not been compatible. He had been a good man, but from the beginning, they had rubbed on together like a mismatched team of oxen. No matter how she bowed to his position as head of the house and father of her children, her heart had secretly rebelled. And she had done him a disservice by never loving him fully, as she should have done. Would it have made a difference? In time, would her desire to have a good marriage have won out over her own willfulness? She didn’t know, and now she never would.
She pumped the pedal and carefully guided the material to finish the seam. She snipped off the thread and held up the blue trousers for inspection. She’d allowed for a wide hem, and that she could stitch up tonight after the youngest ones were in bed. She’d have the pants ready for Tanner to wear tomorrow. His best ones could go to Justice in the fall, and she had enough of the blue cloth left to make a second pair. Smiling, she turned the trousers right side out and had begun to fold them when her peace was shattered by a child’s scream. The kind that terrifies a mother.
By the time Honor reached the yard, Greta was already there and had added her wails to those of Elijah. Tanner’s face was white, and Justice stood with tears running down his cheeks. His mouth opened and shut but not a sound came out.
“What is it?” Honor demanded. She looked up at the windmill, but didn’t see Luke. “Is someone hurt?” she asked. The temperature had risen sharply since the wet night they’d gone to Hannah’s, and the ground was muddy. Water squished around Honor’s shoes and soaked her stockings. Bewildered, she looked from one to another, and then she reached Tanner and gripped his shoulder. “What happened?”
