by Emma Miller
“Oh, just come sit for a moment, Honor,” Wilma insisted, adjusting her round wire-frame glasses. “You’re already here. Just long enough for coffee. We’re still only half-unpacked from the move, but I know you won’t judge me a poor housekeeper.” She led the way into a sunny kitchen. “My Zipporah, she’s so happy to make a new friend. And Katie tells me we will be worshipping together in the same church family.”
“Ya,” Honor agreed. “We will be so glad to have you.” Anke squirmed in her arms.
“Take off that baby’s coat,” Wilma urged. “A few minutes won’t hurt. Such a sweet little girl.” She smiled at Anke and then chattered on. “My husband was glad to find this farm, such good soil with no flooding. We were near a river before, and every spring, terrible floods.” She ushered them into a tidy parlor with upholstered furniture. A cheerful fire blazed on a brick hearth, thanks to a propane fireplace insert. “Now, you just sit yourself down and make yourself at home while I fetch that coffee.”
“She seems nice,” Honor said when Wilma left the room.
“She is,” Katie agreed, reaching to take Anke from her. “And she says her husband’s brother is anxious to move here. They were in Canada before, but Wilma has relatives in Apple Grove.” She took a seat on a worn green chair. “Sara’s Epiphany party was fun, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Honor agreed.
“I noticed you and Luke seemed to be having a good time together.” Katie smiled warmly and bounced Anke on her knee. “You make a nice couple. My Freeman says Luke is a good man. He likes him. Hardworking.”
“We aren’t a couple,” Honor hastened to correct her. “He just works for me.”
Katie grimaced. “Atch. I’m sorry. Martha said— Never mind. You don’t want to know.”
Honor’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me that Aunt Martha said we were dating?”
Katie chuckled. “Ne, she didn’t. Not exactly. But to me, it looked...” She shrugged. “Forgive me. Freeman says I am too careless of what I say.” She hesitated. “But I know what I know, and the way you and Luke Weaver were making eyes at each other...” She smiled. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who thought maybe where there was an understanding between you.”
“But we don’t,” Honor protested. “I mean, there isn’t. Luke and I... I knew him years ago, and...” She sighed. “It’s complicated, but ne, there definitely is not an understanding between us.”
Katie studied her, opened her mouth as if she was going to say something more, but then pressed her fingers to her lips and rolled her eyes. “There I go again, speaking without thinking. It’s your business, of course, but...” Her eyes twinkled. “If I were you, and I had such a respectable young man driving me and my children around on visiting Sundays, a candidate that Sara Yoder highly recommends, I’d give him some serious consideration.”
Chapter Nine
By the time Honor arrived back at the farm that afternoon, the light was already fading and the temperature was dropping. Both she and Greta had had a wonderful day with the Kings and had followed that visit with one to the Kemps.
Anke had been on her best behavior and had been bounced and fed and made much of at one house and then the other. Now Anke had given up and fallen asleep in Greta’s arms. It was too late for the baby to be napping, but there was no help for that now. She’d just have to stay up later tonight.
This had turned out to be such a nice week for Honor; for the first time in longer than she could remember, she actually felt like herself. First, there had been the Epiphany party, then her pleasant trip to Byler’s for groceries and now today’s visiting. She and Katie had known each other as teenagers and discovered they had much to talk about. Although Katie had no children of her own yet, she had toys for Anke to play with and seemed tickled to have a little one in her house. Honor liked Katie’s mother-in-law, Ivy, and Freeman’s uncle Jehu, who lived on the property. Since they all shared the same worship community, and services were to be at the mill the following week, Honor had even volunteered to come and help with food preparation the following Saturday. It had been too long since she’d done anything to contribute to lives outside her own family.
“You’ve been in mourning too long for one so young,” Ivy had pronounced with an affectionate hug. “It’s time you and your family took a more active role in the community.”
Uncle Jehu had agreed. “We’ve got some bass in this mill pond that need catching. When spring comes, you bring those boys over. I’ll teach them where the biggest fish hide. I’ve got a secret bait that never fails.”
“My boys would love that,” she’d agreed.
Her visits with Katie and with Zipporah’s mother had given her a lot to think about, Honor decided as she reined the horse up near the barn. Luke had given her such a treat by watching her sons so that she could have a day for herself.
“I just hope Luke has survived the boys,” Honor commented to Greta, who sat beside her in the buggy. “You know how they can be.” She looked around the farmyard and was relieved not to see anything out of place. Thank God they hadn’t burned the house down or dismantled the windmill while she was away. There were no chickens running loose in the yard, and for once, the donkey was quiet.
Greta nodded over the top of Anke’s bonnet. “Ya, they can be.”
Honor glanced at her. “Can be?”
The girl nibbled her bottom lip. “Trouble.”
“Mmm,” Honor agreed with a chuckle. “They are lively, that’s for certain. And I know they’ve given you a hard time.”
“But they aren’t bad,” Greta assured her. “Just...just full of themselves.”
Honor took a moment to consider what effect Greta’s coming so far from home and being thrown into an active household might mean to a girl who’d never been away from her family. “We’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t had time to turn around twice. But I want you to know, Greta, that I appreciate the help you’ve given me since you arrived. And I ask you to be patient with me. Too often, I’m quick to criticize you, instead of taking the time to show you what I want you to do.”
A faint smile played over the girl’s lips. “I’m glad I came,” she answered hesitantly. “I know I’m not a fast learner, and...sometimes I’m clumsy, but...”
Honor shook her head. “You aren’t clumsy. You’re still growing. It’s the way with all teenagers. And it’s better to be slow than to rush into things like I usually do. You don’t make nearly as many mistakes by taking things slowly.”
Greta blushed with pleasure at the compliment. “I thought you weren’t happy with me. That maybe you’d send me back.”
Honor gently tightened the reins, slowing the horse as they came up the driveway. “Do you want to go back home?”
Greta shook her head. “Ne. I like you and the baby. And now I have a new friend. Zipporah.”
“Ya, she seems like a nice girl. And in our church group. The two of you will be together often.” Honor smiled at Greta. “You know, I have a nice length of lavender cloth. I’m sure we can find time to cut and pin it tomorrow afternoon, and then I can get it sewed in time for next Sunday. You’re getting taller. It’s time you had a new dress and apron for church. And we’ll have to see about getting you some new shoes, as well.” Honor glanced down. “The toes of those are about worn out.”
“New? For me?” Greta beamed. “I never had a dress made new just for me before. Or new shoes. These are my sister Mary’s shoes, ones she outgrew. But they were Joan’s before that, so we got goot use out of them.”
Honor was struck with a pang of guilt. Lord, forgive me for not taking better care of this child who is in my keeping, she thought. Why hadn’t she noticed how shabby Greta’s best dress was before this? Had she been so wrapped up in her own struggles that she hadn’t thought about this girl’s needs? Greta’s parents might be hard put to keep all their growing girls in decent cl
othing, but she wasn’t. “You’ll have the dress this week, if I have anything to say about it,” she promised. “The lavender will be so pretty with your fair coloring. And we’ll look for some new shoes the next time we get in to Dover.”
“Thank you,” Greta murmured. The sparkle in her pale eyes and the red of her cheeks made her almost pretty, and Honor resolved to do more for her. The difference in their ages wasn’t all that great; she might be able to think of Greta as a younger sister, the sister she’d never had and always wanted.
Arriving in the barnyard, Honor climbed down from the buggy and walked around to take Anke from Greta. Anke sighed and made small smacking noises with her lips, but didn’t wake as Honor settled her against one shoulder. She was getting so heavy, growing every day. Soon, Honor thought, Anke wouldn’t be a baby any longer; she’d be a little girl.
Honor’s throat tightened. She’d loved all of her babies, but this one was especially dear to her because Anke was born after Silas had passed. All children were a gift from God, but her little girl had been a special blessing. She wondered if Anke would be her last and hoped not. There was something so precious about a baby. People thought it was difficult taking care of them, but compared to mischievous boys, babies were easy.
Greta slid down from the buggy seat. “Do you want me to unharness the horse?”
“Ne,” Honor replied. “It’s getting cold out. Best you take Anke inside, and I’ll do it.”
“Shall I put her upstairs in her crib?”
“Ne.” Honor shook her head. “Just put her in her play yard in the kitchen.”
Just then the barn door flew open, and Tanner ran out. “Mam, Mam, you’re back!” Behind him came Elijah. Both wore coats, hats and mittens. “We fed up the animals.”
“You did?” She nodded in approval.
“Me, too!” Elijah chimed in. “Fed the animalth.”
“Where’s Justice?” she asked.
“In the barn. With Luke. Luke helped feed up, too,” Tanner informed her proudly.
Honor chuckled. “He helped you, did he?”
“Not much,” Tanner bragged. “Mostly it was us.”
“Tanner puthed Juthtithe out of the loft,” Elijah said.
Tanner whipped around. “Did not.”
“Did.”
Luke appeared in the open barn doorway. Justice followed close on his heels. “You’re home.” Luke smiled at her. “I was wondering if you’d make it before dark. Let me take that horse for you.”
She nodded appreciatively. The wind was picking up and a few snowflakes were drifting down. She didn’t want the horse to stand in the traces long after the exercise of pulling the buggy home. The animal needed to be cared for immediately and the buggy put away in the carriage shed.
“Did you have a good visit?” Luke asked as he began to unhitch the horse. “Tanner, watch what I’m doing. You’re old enough to do this with a little practice.”
“We did,” she said and explained about her change of plans for the day. “Everything go all right here?”
Luke glanced back at her. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He hesitated. “But there was something. Maybe we could talk about it later without the little ears—” he raised a hand to cup his ear “—listening.”
Honor looked down at Tanner. “What happened?”
Tanner’s face reddened and he stared at his boots. “Justice fell out of the loft.”
“Not exactly,” Luke corrected. “Tanner and Justice were roughhousing and Tanner pushed him.”
“Were you roughhousing in the loft again?” Honor turned her attention to her two oldest sons. “Did he push you, Justice?”
Justice backed up and looked down at his boots.
Honor narrowed her gaze on her eldest. “Tanner, did you push your brother out of the loft?”
“He kicked me,” Tanner defended himself. “And he threw hay in my face.”
With a sigh, she looked at Luke. “I’m sorry. They do this all the time. I don’t approve of them fighting, but brothers—”
“Ne.” Luke shook his head. “Tanner should know better than to push a younger child when they are up in the loft. He also used a pitchfork to fork hay to the cow and left it lying on the barn floor, tines up.”
Honor’s eyes widened and she brought a hand to her mouth. “No one stepped on it?”
“Ne. By the grace of God. But Tanner is old enough to learn that being careless with tools can cause great harm. One of his brothers could have been seriously injured.” Taking hold of the horse by the bridle, Luke led it into the barn, leaving Honor with her boys.
“I didn’t,” Tanner protested. “He slipped and fell. I didn’t push him.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.
“Ya, you did,” Justice whined.
Uncertain what to say, Honor glanced from one to the other. “Go in the house, all of you. We’ll talk about this after supper.” She clapped her hands. “Go on, now. Scoot! You, too, Elijah.” She waited until they were all three inside and then followed Luke into the dimly lit barn. She’d had such a good day and now she felt terrible. “I’m sorry they were bad for you,” she said.
“It’s fine. They’re children. And they weren’t bad.” Again, he hesitated. “But we did have a couple of incidents and...they need guidance, Honor.”
“Ya, I agree. They do, and I try to give it to them. But Tanner isn’t seven yet, and he—”
“He’s old enough to know that a pitchfork can kill,” Luke interrupted. “And that a fall can break an arm or a neck.” He took a piece of burlap and wiped down the horse’s neck and chest with strong, easy strokes.
“I think you’re being too hard on him.”
“I may be. But I think you’re being too easy. A woman... A mother sometimes makes excuses for her child when he should be disciplined.”
“Disciplined?” Honor struggled to hold back the surge of emotion that rose in her chest. She was angry that he would interfere. But she also felt a pang of guilt. She knew that sometimes she was too easy on them, but their father had been so harsh. “What would you have me do?” she asked. “Take a switch to him? Send him to bed without supper? Tanner is a rambunctious boy. It’s only natural that he’d get himself into trouble once in a while.”
“Honor, listen to what you’re saying.” Luke’s voice was patient, but it had a thread of steel that she’d never heard before. “Do you think I’m the kind of man who would use physical force on a child? I didn’t say anything about punishing Tanner. What I’m saying is that you should talk to him. He’s a bright boy. He has to learn self-discipline. He’s older and bigger than Justice. He has to set an example for the other three.”
“So you don’t believe a child should be spanked?” she demanded. “Doesn’t the Bible tell us that—”
“I’m not a preacher or a deacon.” He stopped what he was doing and turned toward her. “I think you need to show a child what is right. And violence against anyone is never right.”
“Silas didn’t believe that. He thought that it was his duty to not to spare the rod.”
“I’m not Silas.” He pushed open the stall door. “I’m sorry, Honor. It’s not my place to tell you how to raise your children. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, especially since you’re doing it alone. I’m not criticizing you. I think you’re a wonderful mother. But what happened here today can’t keep happening. You need to make your son understand that his actions have consequences. I see how you love your children. Sometimes being a parent means delivering a tough message.”
She stared at him, and the anger she’d felt crumbled, bit by bit. She didn’t know why she’d tried to pick a fight with Luke over corporal punishment. She didn’t believe in it, either. Mostly because she didn’t think it worked. “Silas always said I was lenient with them.”
Luke shrugged. “There’s a
difference between causing mischief and putting someone in danger. That’s what you have to make them understand. I’m just saying this because...because I care about them and about you.” He met her gaze. “And because you know why I’m here. You know what I want. I want you. And I want us to be a family.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. Not knowing what to say, she turned around and walked toward the house.
Was Luke right? She couldn’t help wondering if it would be easier to be a good parent if they had a man in their lives, a father who would make things easier for all of them...not harder. What was the right thing to do? With the children? And, maybe even more important, with Luke?
* * *
For several days, Honor prayed for guidance and wrestled with her conflicting emotions concerning Luke. Finally, she could take it no longer. Leaving Greta to watch Tanner and Elijah, and Luke to work on patching the roof over the kitchen, she loaded Anke and Justice into the buggy and drove to Sara’s house. She hoped to find the matchmaker at home. If Sara was off somewhere, it would be a long ride for nothing, but Honor simply couldn’t ignore her concerns for another day.
To her relief, she found Sara and Ellie in Sara’s kitchen making a kettle of apple butter. Sara welcomed them in, poured hot chocolate with marshmallows for the little ones and whisked Honor off to her office.
“I don’t want to bother you,” Honor began, but she already felt better. Sara’s office was warm and cheerful with sunshine streaming in the windows, a thick braided rug under her feet and blessed quiet. The scent of apple butter cooking and almond scones just out of the oven didn’t hurt, either. Sara always seemed so capable and wise that Honor’s worries didn’t press quite so hard on her.
“No bother at all,” Sara said with a smile. She looked as tidy as a Carolina wren this morning in her dark green calf-length dress, matching apron and starched white kapp. Tendrils of curly dark hair framed a round face that was dominated by her strong mouth and dark eyes, which missed nothing.
Honor’s hands trembled, so she steadied the cup she was holding on her knee. “I need your advice,” she blurted out. “It’s about Luke. Weaver,” she clarified. Then she felt silly. What other Luke could she be talking about?