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Alice had been too young, maybe. Not ready to settle down. She’d thought marriage and the move to Lost Creek, Pennsylvania, would bring excitement. But when life had settled into a normal routine, she hadn’t been satisfied.
Jessie had seen her growing unhappiness in her letters. Maybe she’d been impatient with her young cousin, thinking it was time Alice grew up. If she’d been more comforting...
But it was too late for those thoughts. Jessie bent over the sink to help Timothy brush his teeth, but Becky wedged her little body between them to help him instead. Fair enough, Jessie told herself. A big sister was expected to look after the younger ones. Maybe if she ignored Becky’s animosity, it would fade.
A line from Alice’s last letter slid into her mind. “You were right. I never should have come back here to die. Please, if you love me, try to repair the harm I’ve done to these precious little ones.”
Jessie’s throat tightened. She had begged Alice to stay with her for those final months instead of returning to Caleb. But Alice had been determined, and Jessie hadn’t been able to stop questioning her own motives. Whose interests had she had at heart?
Pushing the thought away, she reached over their heads to turn off the water. “All ready? Let’s go down and say good-night.”
Bare feet slapping on the plank floor, the kinder rushed down the stairs. Following more sedately, she saw them throw themselves at Caleb, and she winced at the kicks his cast took. But he didn’t seem to notice.
Caleb cuddled each of them, apparently as reluctant to send them to bed as they were to go. It must have seemed like forever to him since his life had been normal, but she knew him well enough to understand he’d never regret risking injury to help a neighbor. That’s who he was, and she admired him even when she was resenting the cool stare he turned on her.
“Go on up to bed now.” Caleb helped Timothy slide down from his lap. “Sleep tight.”
Smiling, Jessie held out her hands. Once again, Timothy took hers easily, rubbing his eyes with his other hand. But Becky pushed past her to grab Daniel’s hand.
“I want Onkel Daniel to tuck me in,” she announced.
“Sounds gut,” he said, getting up and stretching. “Cousin Jessie and I will see you’re all tucked in nice and snug. Ain’t so, Cousin Jessie?”
She smiled, grateful that he’d included her. “That we will.”
“Let’s see how fast we can get upstairs.” Daniel snatched up Becky and galloped toward the steps.
“Me, me,” Timothy squealed, holding his arms up to Jessie.
Lifting him and hugging him close, she raced up the stairs, and they collapsed on Timothy’s bed in a giggling heap. Timothy snuggled against her, seeming eager for a hug, and her heart swelled. If circumstances had been different, he might have been her child.
The unruly thought stuck to her mind like a burr. She remembered so clearly the day she’d met Caleb. He’d come from Pennsylvania for the wedding of a distant cousin, and she’d been asked to show him around. They’d hit it off at once in a way she’d given up expecting to happen to her.
And he’d felt the same. She was sure of it. That afternoon was surrounded by a golden haze in her memory—the beginning of something lovely. A perfect time—right up to the moment when they’d gone in to supper and Caleb had his first look at Alice. She’d turned from the stove, her cheeks rosy from the heat, strands of cornsilk-yellow hair escaping her kapp to curl around her face, her blue eyes sparkling and full of fun.
Jessie wrenched her thoughts away from that long-ago time. No sense at all in thinking about what might have been. They could only live today, trusting in God’s grace, and do their best to make up for past mistakes.
* * *
Caleb expected Onkel Zeb to chide him again about Becky’s behavior once the others had gone upstairs. His defenses went up at the thought. Becky was his child. It was his responsibility how she behaved.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t a very comforting thought. He’d let his own reactions to Jessie’s presence influence his daughter’s behavior. Besides, Onkel Zeb was as close as a father to him...closer, in some ways, than his own daad had been. It had seemed, after Mamm left, that all the heart had gone out of his father. Onkel Zeb had been the one to step up and fill the role of both parents for him and his brothers.
The unfortunate King men, folks said. Mamm had left Daad, and then Alice had left him. Onkel Zeb’s young bride had died within a year of their marriage. Daniel was definitely not looking for a wife, and as for Aaron—well, who knew what he was doing out in the Englisch world?
He darted a look at his uncle. Onkel Zeb was studying him...patient, just waiting for him to realize himself what should be done.
“Yah, you’re right. I’ll try to do better with Becky.”
“And with Cousin Jessie,” Onkel Zeb pointed out. “She is not to blame for Alice’s wrongs.”
“And Cousin Jessie.” He repeated the words dutifully. “At least she’s nothing at all like Alice was. She’s plain, not pretty and flirty.”
“To the Leit, plain is gut, remember?” Zeb’s lips twitched. “I’d say Jessie has a face that shows who she is...calm, kind, peaceable. Funny that she’s never married. It wonders me what the men out in Ohio were thinking to let her get away.”
Truth to tell, Caleb wondered, too. If anyone seemed meant to marry and have a flock of kinder to care for, it had been Jessie. His mind flickered briefly to the day they’d met and winced away again. He had no desire to remember that day.
But Onkel Zeb’s thoughts had clearly moved on, and he was talking about how things had gone while Caleb was in the hospital.
“...working out fine, that’s certain sure. Sam just can’t do enough for us, though I keep telling him we’re all right. Guess he feels like he wants to repay you, seeing it was his barn where you got hurt.”
“That’s foolishness, and I’ll tell him so myself. As if any of us wouldn’t do the same for a neighbor. Sam’s got plenty with his own farm to run. They’d best be getting his new barn up soon, ain’t so?”
“Barn raising is set for Saturday.” Onkel Zeb grinned. “The buggies have been in and out of Sam and Leah’s lane all week with the women helping to clean and get the food ready. Nothing like a barn raising to stir folks up.”
Caleb was glad Sam’s barn would soon be replaced, but Zeb’s words had reminded him of something else. “Maybe Leah would know of someone I can hire to help out with the kinder. What do you think?”
Onkel Zeb shrugged. “Not sure why you want to go looking for someone else when you have family right here eager to do it.”
Frustration with his uncle had him clenching his hands on the chair. Before he could frame a response, he heard Daniel and Jessie coming back down the stairs. They seemed to be chuckling together over something, and Caleb felt himself tensing. Irrational or not, he wanted his uncle and brother to share his own feelings about Jessie’s arrival.
They came in smiling, which just added to his annoyance. Onkel Zeb glanced at them.
“What funny thing did young Timothy say now?” he asked.
“Ach, it wasn’t Timmy at all.” Daniel grinned. “Cousin Jessie just didn’t agree with my version of the story of the three bears.”
Jessie shook her head in mock disapproval. “Even Timothy knew there wasn’t a wolf in the story of the three bears. That was the three little pigs.”
“Maybe you’d best stick to telling them stories about when you and their daadi were small,” Zeb suggested. “And not be confusing the kinder. Or better yet, let Jessie tell the bedtime story.”
Caleb could feel his face freeze. Zeb made it sound as if Jessie would be around more than a few nights to tell them stories. She wouldn’t.
Jessie seemed to sense the awkwardness of the moment. She turned toward the kitchen. “What about some coffee and another piece of pie?”
“Sounds wonderful gut about now.” Onkel Zeb seemed to be answering for all of them.
Caleb almost said he didn’t want any. But he caught Jessie’s gaze and realized how childish that would sound. So he nodded instead. Jessie’s guarded expression relaxed in a smile, and for an instant she looked like the girl he’d spent an afternoon with all those years ago.
It was disconcerting. If he hadn’t gone to that wedding, if he hadn’t met Jessie and through her met her cousin Alice...what would his life have been then?
* * *
Jessie cleared up the plates and cups after their dessert, satisfied that her pie, at least, had met with universal approval. She’d have to take any little encouragement she could get.
Zeb and Daniel had gone to the bedroom to set up a few assistance devices the hospital had sent, leaving her and Caleb alone in the kitchen for the moment. She sent a covert glance toward him.
Caleb had his wheelchair pulled up to the kitchen table, and at the moment he was staring at the cup he still held. She suspected that he didn’t even see it. His lean face seemed stripped down to the bone, drawn with fatigue and pain. Today had been a difficult transition for him, but he wouldn’t want her to express sympathy.
No man wanted to admit to pain or weakness—she knew that well enough from being raised with six brothers. And clearly Caleb would resent it even more coming from her. The hurt she felt for him, the longing to do something to ease his pain...it would have to stay, unspoken, in her heart.
But the silence was stretching out awkwardly between them. “Becky is...” she began. But the words slipped away when Caleb focused on her.
“What about Becky?” He nearly snapped the words.
That didn’t bother her. When folks were hurting, they snapped, like an injured dog would snarl even when you were trying to help it.
“She seems so grown-up for her age. Very helpful, especially with her little bruder.”
The words of praise seemed to disarm him. “Yah, she is gut with Timothy. Always has been, especially since...” His lips shut tight then.
Especially since Alice left when he was just an infant. Those were the words he didn’t want to say. She could hardly blame him. But if only they could speak plainly about Alice, it might do everyone some good.
“I know how Becky feels. I always felt responsible for Alice after her mamm passed.”
Caleb’s strong jaw hardened. “I don’t want to talk about her. Not now. Not ever. I thought I made that clear.”
She wanted to tell him that she understood, but that hiding the pain didn’t make it go away. It just let it fester. But she couldn’t, because he wouldn’t listen. If she had more time...
“I’m sorry. I promise I won’t say anything about Alice.” Until the day you’re willing to talk. “But please, think twice about sending me away. The kinder are my own blood, like it or not. I want to care for them, and they need me. You need me.”
But she could read the answer in his face already. He spun the wheelchair away, knocking against the table leg in his haste. Impulsively she reached out to catch his arm.
“Please...”
The anger in Caleb’s eyes was so fierce she could feel the heat of it. He grabbed her wrist in a hard grip and shoved her hand away from him.
“No.” Just one word, but it was enough to send her back a step. “We don’t need you. I can take care of my kinder on my own. You’ll go on the bus on Friday.”
Jessie looked after him, biting her lip. She should have known better than to start her plea by referring to Alice. She’d been trying to show that she understood how Becky felt, but she’d approached him all wrong.
Resolutely she turned to the sink and began washing the plates and cups. If a tear or two dropped in the sudsy water, no one would know.
Caleb might not want to hear it, but she did feel responsible for Alice, just as Becky felt responsible for Timothy. She could only hope and pray Becky never went through what she had.
“You’re the older one,” her mother had always said. “You’re responsible for little Alice.”
Most of the time she’d managed that fairly well. But when she’d grown older, she’d sometimes become impatient with Alice always tagging along behind her. She’d been about eleven when it happened, so Alice had been only eight. She’d tagged along as always when Jessie and her friends had been walking home from school.
They’d been giggling, sharing secrets, the way girls did when they were just starting to notice boys. And Alice, always there, always impatient when she wasn’t the center of attention, had tried to burst into the conversation. She’d stamped her feet, angry at being rejected, and declared she was going to run away.
Jessie’s shame flared, as always, when she thought of her response. “Go ahead,” she’d said. “I won’t come after you.”
She hadn’t meant it. Everyone knew that. But Alice had run off into the woods that lined the path.
“She’ll come back,” the other girls had said. And Jessie had agreed. Alice was afraid of the woods. She wouldn’t go far. She’d trail along, staying out of sight until they were nearly home, and then jump out at them.
But it hadn’t worked out that way. Alice hadn’t reappeared. Jessie searched for her, at first annoyed, then angry, then panic-stricken. Alice had vanished.
Jessie still cringed at the memory of telling her parents. They’d formed a search party, neighbors pitching in, combing the woods on either side of the path.
Jessie had followed, weeping, unwilling to stay at the house and yet terrified of what the adults might find. She didn’t think she’d been quite so terrified since.
It had been nearly dark when the call went up that Alice had been found. Alice wasn’t hurt. They’d found her curled up under a tree, sound asleep.
Alice had clung to Jessie more than ever after that experience. And Jessie hadn’t dared let herself grow impatient—not once she’d learned what the cost of that could be. She was responsible for Alice, no matter what.
Jessie tried to wipe away a tear and only succeeded in getting soapsuds in her eye. Blinking, she wiped it with a dish towel. She heard a step behind her.
“Ach, Jessie, don’t let my nephew upset you.”
She turned, managing to produce a slight smile for Zeb.
Zeb moved a little closer, his weathered face troubled. “You think it would be better to talk more openly about Alice, ain’t so?”
She evaded his keen gaze. “Caleb doesn’t agree, and they are his kinder.”
Zeb didn’t speak for a moment. Then he sighed. “Do you know why I was so glad to see you today?”
“Because you are a kind person,” she said. “Even Alice...” She stopped. She’d promised not to mention Alice.
“Even Alice liked me, ain’t so?” His smile was tinged with sorrow. “This business of not talking about her—Caleb is making a mistake, I think. You can’t forgive if you can’t be open.”
“Some things are harder to forgive than others.”
“All the more important to forgive, ain’t so?” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Don’t give up. Promise me you won’t.”
She didn’t know how she’d manage it, but she was confident in her answer. “I didn’t come this far just to turn around and go back home again.”
Renewed determination swept through her. It seemed she had one person on her side, at least. And she wasn’t going to give up.
Chapter Three (#ud5a6ba60-31e2-5d82-b6c9-f7fb80ab7ec0)
Caleb woke early, disoriented for a moment at not hearing the clatter of carts and trays. He wasn’t in the hospital any longer. He was home. Thankfulness swept through him, replaced by frustration the instant he moved and felt the weight of the cast dragging him down.
He was home, and those were the familiar sounds of going out to do the milking. He heard the rumble of Onkel Zeb’s and Daniel’s voices, and then the thud of the back door closing.
The source of the sound switched, coming through the back window now. Thomas Schutz must have arrived—he was calling a greeting to the others, sounding cheerful despite having walked across the fields in the dark.
Onkel Zeb was right about the lad. They should keep him on, even after Caleb was well enough to take on his own work. That would free Daniel to spend more time with his carpentry business instead of being tied to so many farm chores.
Caleb sat up and leaned to peer out the window. Still dark, of course, but the flashlight one of them carried sent a circle of light dancing ahead of them. Caleb’s hand clenched. He should be out there with them, not lying here in bed, helpless.
Stop thinking that way, he ordered himself. He might not be up to doing the milking or going upstairs to put the kinder to bed, but for sure there were things he could do. The sooner the better.
Using his hands to move the cast, Caleb swung his legs out of bed and sat there for a moment, eyeing the wheelchair with dislike. He didn’t have a choice about using it, so he’d have to figure out how to do things with it.
First things first. If he got up and dressed by himself, he’d feel more like a man and less like an invalid. His clothes were not far away, draped on the chair where Onkel Zeb had put them the previous night. That clamp-like gripper on a long handle was obviously intended for just such a situation. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the nurse who’d explained it to him.
