“I’ll gather some fresh eggs to go with those,” Loretta chimed in.
“We’ll be downstairs as soon as we’ve changed out of our church clothes,” Rosalyn said, gazing intently at their father.
After a moment Dat took the hint and left so the older girls could get dressed. Rosalyn and Loretta carefully hung up their best dresses and grabbed the clothes they’d worn before the wedding, intent on keeping their father pacified.
“Hoo-boy, he’s wound up about those babies,” Loretta whispered.
“If Dat thinks Will’s such a bad apple, why does he insist on taking the twins back to him?” Rosalyn asked with a shake of her head. “I know you’ve gotten yourself—and the rest of us—into a bit of a bind here, Edith, but I’d have done the same thing as you. It’s not the babies’ fault that they need care neither one of those men can give them.”
Edith flashed her eldest sister a grateful smile and went downstairs to start supper. Neither Loretta nor Rosalyn ate much, and Edith was too lost in her swirling thoughts to do more than pick at her meal. Dat, however, took his time over two platefuls of scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, and bread with butter. Then, after offering them some, he polished off the two slices of cherry pie and the large slab of wedding cake her sisters had brought home.
“I’ve been thinking about a suggestion Nora Hooley made,” he said as he pushed back from the table. “She wants to display some of my clocks in her store. It’s a sure thing that potential buyers would see them better there than in my workshop.”
Loretta snatched at this thread of conversation like a hen snagging a worm. “Simple Gifts is such a wonderful shop,” she replied. “When I was in there last week, Nora was hoping Edith would take in some of her baskets—”
“And your rugs would be just the thing to consign there, too, Loretta!” Rosalyn put in. “Nora sells so many pretty linens and household things. I was thinking to buy a few to use here in the kitchen and—”
“The rugs and curtains your mother made are just fine.” Dat focused intently on Rosalyn. “You know how it goes, Daughter. Once you start shopping at Nora’s, a lot of money will slip through your fingers before you realize it.”
Rosalyn’s crestfallen expression tugged at Edith’s heartstrings. The cotton curtains were faded from the sun, and the woven rag rugs were patched on the back, so threadbare the girls avoided standing on them when they were washing dishes or cooking at the stove. When they’d moved to Willow Ridge, she and her sisters had hoped Dat might be able to part with some of the items their mother had made, but he seemed determined to keep Mamm’s memory alive by clinging to every little thing associated with her—even though those items were falling apart.
The kitchen fell silent, so stuffy Edith longed to open a window—except Dat had always insisted that no one else rise from the table until he did. He didn’t like to feel rushed by women clearing away the dishes and removing leftover food.
Finally, he stood up. “After this afternoon’s work, I realize how short on replacement parts I am, so I’ll be leaving early tomorrow,” he remarked. “I like it that the trip to Kansas City is a lot shorter from here than it was from Roseville.”
Edith and her sisters nodded mutely.
“Make something substantial for breakfast so I won’t have to buy lunch along the way,” Dat continued. “I’ll let my new driver find his own meal while I’m at the clock-repair store. Every little bit helps when it comes to economizing. Your mother stretched a dollar farther than anyone I’ve ever known.”
When he left the kitchen, Edith and her sisters sprang from their chairs. Rosalyn ran dishwater while Loretta scraped plates and Edith gathered the silverware and glasses. “I need to buy another canister of formula powder,” she murmured. “Dat will raise a ruckus if he sees the price sticker on the can Will left, so I’ll pay for it out of our stash. Please don’t tell him I’m buying it, or he’ll think we intend to defy him and keep the babies longer. But what else can I do? We don’t have enough to feed them through tomorrow.”
Rosalyn glanced out the kitchen window. “Folks are still over at the Grill N Skillet for the wedding, so Zook’s Market’s not open, most likely.”
“Jah, the stores are all closed for the day,” Loretta reminded Edith. “The Witmers have closed the Grill N Skillet for its supper shift so folks can stay at the wedding party as long as they want to. Lydia and Katie Zook plan to help with the cleanup, too.”
“Hmm.” Edith stood between her sisters, assessing the wedding guests who sat clustered in lawn chairs behind the café. “Maybe if I ask Preacher Henry nicely, he’ll let me into his store just long enough to . . . or maybe I’ll have to go when they first open in the morning.”
“Go now, while Dat’s downstairs working,” Loretta suggested in a low voice.
“We’ll keep the babies quiet for you,” Rosalyn chimed in under her breath. “I haven’t gotten a gut look at them yet.”
“Me neither. What’re their names?”
Edith gratefully grasped her sisters’ shoulders. “Denki so much—I won’t be long,” she promised. “Leroy and Louisa are such sweet little things. You can’t help but love them.”
Before any more time slipped away, Edith grabbed a couple of twenty-dollar bills from the plastic coffee canister where they kept the money from selling their cage-free eggs to the Hooleys’ mill store—a sideline Dat’s cousin Reuben had left behind when he’d returned to Roseville. Her pulse pounded as she hurried across the lot behind their house and then strode past the Brennemans’ cabinetmaking shop, toward the back door of the café.
As she’d hoped, Lydia Zook was helping in the kitchen and was sympathetic to Edith’s need for formula. As the storekeeper’s wife walked her down the road to the white market with the blue metal roof, Edith answered her questions about the babies with what little information she had. It seemed Asa Detweiler was all the talk among the curious wedding guests, but Luke Hooley and his aunts had learned very few details about the man they’d rescued from the roadside.
Once inside the store, Lydia showed Edith to the baby supplies. Plain women didn’t use a lot of formula mix, so Edith chose one of the three cans on the shelf and quickly paid for it. “Denki so much for helping me out,” she said as they left the market.
“Come back tomorrow afternoon,” Mrs. Zook suggested. “I’ll ask the local gals to bring whatever baby things they can spare to the store for you. You’re a saint for taking on a dead mother’s twins.”
“That would be such a help,” Edith murmured. “I can’t thank you enough.”
As she headed down the road with her sack, Edith felt a surge of gratitude for the folks in this town. Tomorrow was Friday and Dat was going to Kansas City—he’d be gone until evening—so she hoped she’d be caring for the babies at least another day . . . and maybe this outpouring of sentiment and assistance from the neighbors would soften her father’s heart. Or maybe, if they heard he was returning the twins to a home where they wouldn’t be properly cared for, Lydia and the other women would express their disapproval and change Dat’s mind. There had to be a way. . . .
Edith blinked. She’d been so lost in thought that she’d headed the wrong way down the county road—toward Nora and Luke’s house on the hill instead of her own home.
Your feet knew where your heart wanted to go. But you can’t stay long. Folks will talk—and your sisters are babysitting.
Before she lost her nerve, Edith hurried up the driveway toward the attractive two-story house where she’d heard Asa was staying.
* * *
After taking a hot shower to soothe his aching body, Asa put on one of Luke Hooley’s plain green shirts and then pulled on a pair of his trousers. He and Luke were nearly the same size, and Asa was grateful that his host had loaned him some clean clothes. Despite a killer headache, he chuckled at the assortment of bold prints hanging in the closet—and at the fact that some of Luke’s shirts and Nora’s dresses matched. Not every Mennonite husband would be
pleased that his woman had sewn such striking garments for him, but Asa suspected Hooley was too enamored of his attractive redheaded wife to fuss about it.
Nice people, these Hooleys. Luke offered me a room, and Nora brought me food from the wedding.
Asa gathered his grass-stained clothes from the bathroom floor. He eased down the wooden stairs in his bare feet, aware of every aching muscle and joint in his body. Andy Leitner had told him he was awfully lucky he’d landed in tall grass rather than on gravel, and that he hadn’t hit his head on a nearby tree. Even so, Asa chafed at the local nurse’s order to lie low for a few days until they could assess how bad his concussion was—and until his horse was checked out by a vet. He had an entire set of antique bedroom furniture waiting to be restored in his shop—not to mention his mission of finding some Gingerich guy . . . whose first name had escaped him.
Asa shuffled carefully between the tightly arranged pew benches that filled the main level of the house, in awe of how many guests must have attended the wedding this morning. When he got to the kitchen, he lifted the foil from a glass casserole pan sitting on the counter. He inhaled the rich aroma of sauced pulled pork, several pieces of grilled chicken, and a huge mound of mashed potatoes that had been hollowed out to hold enough baked beans for three men. Next to the casserole pan sat a plate with two pieces of peach pie and a big wedge of wedding cake.
These people know how to put on a party. Asa tossed his dirty clothes aside and then opened drawers until he found a fork. He closed his eyes over a mouthful of the pork and let out a blissful sigh. It was an effort not to wolf down the food as a dog would, hungry as he suddenly was. He didn’t bother finding a plate or taking his meal to the table. As he bit into a chicken leg, he didn’t even care that juice dribbled down his chin—
“Anybody home?”
Asa stiffened, the chicken leg suspended in front of his mouth. Had someone called to him through the screened front door, or was he hearing voices as a symptom of his concussion? Maybe someone had come looking for Nora or—
“Asa? Are you in there?”
He held his breath, desperately trying to match that pleasant feminine voice with a face. He wasn’t really in the mood for a visitor, but curiosity got the best of him. “Yeah? Who wants to know?” he called out as he walked toward the front room. He kicked his clothes out of the way so he wouldn’t trip over them.
Melodious laughter tickled his ears, and, when he saw a female face, he ached to put a name to it. She’s distorted by the screen, Asa reassured himself, but he hoped she spoke first so he wouldn’t have to admit that he’d forgotten such a lovely young woman’s name . . . if indeed he’d ever met her.
“It’s Edith—the Edith Riehl who’s taking care of the twins.”
Twins? “Uh—sure, come on in,” Asa hedged, gesturing with the chicken leg. “Pardon my bad manners. Nora brought me some food from the wedding dinner—”
“It smells wonderful,” his visitor said as she stepped inside. Her eyes widened as she took in the room filled with benches.
“—and I’m hungrier than a bear coming out of hibernation, it seems.”
“Jah, I bet you are.”
Oh, honey, you don’t know the half of it. Asa knew he was staring but he couldn’t help himself. This Edith Riehl seemed achingly familiar, just beyond the reach of his recognition as a smile lit her pretty face and her expressive dark brows rose above sparkling brown eyes. When she stopped and nervously pressed her lips together, Asa realized how wolfish he must seem.
“Sorry. That tumble I took is messing with my head. So . . . how are the twins?” he asked, grasping at her conversational straws.
“Sleeping like little angels when I left. Lydia Zook opened the market so I could buy some more formula,” she explained, holding up her paper sack. “My two sisters are looking after Leroy and Louisa.”
Fleeting images of two tiny, wailing babies and the backseat of a rig passed through his mind. Asa smiled, hoping this young lady didn’t think he was as lame-brained as he felt. “Guess they’re not very old then,” he remarked, wishing for a graceful way to get rid of the chicken bone he was holding.
“Born six months ago, Will told me,” Edith replied with a shake of her head. “I can’t imagine what his family’s going through, what with his wife’s dying so young from cancer.”
Asa sensed he should feel outraged about something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it—nor did he want to spoil a nice moment with this lovely young woman. “May I offer you some pie or wedding cake?” he asked hopefully. “Nora brought enough to feed—”
“I really should get home,” Edith said as she glanced at the door. “If I’m gone too long—well, I just wanted to check on you. I’m so glad you’re up and around, Asa. Are—are those your clothes? How about if I take them home and wash them?”
Before Asa could protest, Edith rushed toward him and grabbed up his shirt and pants. “I promise I won’t mix them in with the dirty diapers,” she teased.
Asa felt vaguely embarrassed when Edith rolled his pants and shirt together and stuffed them into her grocery sack. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s okay, really,” she insisted. She gazed up at him from just a few feet away, her smile lighting the whole front room. “We’re doing laundry tomorrow anyway.”
Before he could beg her to stay, Edith hurried toward the door. When she wiggled her fingers at him, something snapped into place in his mind. “Hey, there’s money in my pants pocket. Take whatever you need to cover that baby stuff.”
Edith’s smile rivaled a sunrise. “That’s very generous of you, Asa. Take care, and I’ll see you when I can.”
When the door banged, the front room suddenly felt very empty. Asa went to the door and watched Edith break into a jog as she headed down the blacktop road. Had he said something offensive? Upset her enough that she was running away from him? Or was his face messed up from landing so hard after Midnight threw him?
Asa wandered into the half bath tucked under the Hooleys’ stairway and looked in the mirror. One side of his face sported a huge purple bruise, and he was supposed to put ointment and a Band-Aid on his red forehead wound. He hadn’t combed his hair after his shower, and his five-o’clock shadow bristled along his jawline. Luke’s apple-green shirt was hanging lopsided at the collar because Asa had buttoned it wrong. And where had that grease spot come from?
Asa sighed. He should probably phone home to say he’d be detained in Willow Ridge for a while, yet he suddenly lacked the energy to make the call. “You’re a mess, Detweiler,” he muttered as he ambled back to the kitchen.
And that was true before Miss Riehl came calling and made you realize how many pieces are missing from this puzzling situation.
* * *
When Edith entered the back kitchen door, voices in the front room told her they had company. She stashed the sack with the formula and Asa’s clothes in the pantry, hoping her absence hadn’t become too noticeable. Putting on a bright smile, she went to greet their guests.
What a sight it was to see Bishop Tom and Vernon Gingerich, the white-haired bishop from Cedar Creek, standing on either side of Dat near the fireplace while their wives, Nazareth and Jerusalem, sat on the couch holding the babies. Loretta and Rosalyn gazed at Edith as though to ask what had taken her so long, while Dat appeared as edgy as a cat trapped between two curious—but well-intentioned—dogs.
“Bless her, Lydia Zook let me into the market so we’d have enough formula for tomorrow,” Edith said as she went to stand behind the sofa. “And she’s asking ladies from around town to bring any baby things they can spare for us, as well. What a relief that is!”
“Jah, I can imagine it’s been a scramble, figuring out how to care for these precious wee ones,” Nazareth said as she lifted pink-shirted Louisa to her shoulder.
“And it’s an act of true Christian charity, taking them in without a moment’s notice, too,” Bishop Tom remarked.
When Leroy began to
fuss, Jerusalem stood up to walk with him. “What with our little goats living next door, giving such gut milk—”
“Why, we could provide all the food you’ll need for these little angels!” Nazareth chimed in as she stood up to sway with the baby she held. “At six months, they’re old enough to tolerate goat milk, and it’s so much better for them than formula.”
Vernon’s blue eyes twinkled as he considered this. “I can recall several babies in our family who thrived on fresh goat milk when their mamms couldn’t feed them,” he said as he smiled at Dat. “Seems God knew exactly where to bring these little souls who’re so dependent upon the charity of strangers. It’s a blessed mission you’ve taken on, Deacon Cornelius. You’re an inspiration to us all.”
Edith and her sisters bit back grins. With two bishops declaring Dat the epitome of unconditional love, there was no way he could take the babies back to Roseville now—or at least not until they had a stable home to go to.
Dat murmured something about Edith and her sisters being the ones who’d taken charge of the twins. Then he gazed intently at Vernon. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to be related to the Will Gingerich who brought us these angels, would you?” he asked. “He lives just outside of Roseville—and is apparently caught up in a rather unsavory situation, because as his wife was dying she named another man as the babies’ father.”
Nazareth and Jerusalem sucked in their breath as Vernon’s eyes widened. “Oh my, that complicates things,” he murmured. “That branch of the family tree severed itself from the rest of us a couple of generations ago—over some silly feud I can’t even recall. But jah, Will is my great-nephew. Clearly, I need to venture over that way to visit with him and his troubled family. Sooner rather than later.”
“While you’re there, I’m sure you’ll find a gut, stable home these babies can grow up in,” Dat said purposefully. “We’re happy to help Will in his time of need, but every child should be raised by its own kin.”
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