she lowered the dark green shades on the windows. She doubted Sammy would sleep late in the morning. Usually he was up with the sun.
She faced Joshua and saw he had gathered his work clothes. He picked them up from the blanket chest at the foot of the bed. His gaze slowly moved along her, and so many emotions flooded his eyes she wasn’t sure if he felt one or all at the same time. Realizing she was wringing her hands, she forced her arms to her sides.
It was the first time they’d been alone as man and wife. They stood in the room he’d shared with his first wife. She didn’t trust her voice to speak, even if she had the slightest idea what to say as she looked at the man who was now her husband. The weight on the first word she spoke was enormous. There were a lot of things she wanted to ask about the life they’d be sharing. She didn’t know how.
“Gut nacht,” he said into the strained silence. “I’ll be upstairs. Second door to the left. Don’t hesitate to knock if you or Samuel need anything. I know it’ll take you a while to get used to living in a new place.”
“Danki.”
He waited, but she couldn’t force her lips to form another word. Finally, with a nod, he began to edge past her. When she jumped back, fearful he was angry with her, he stared at her in astonishment.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded, though she was as far from okay as she could be. It was beginning again. The ever-present anxiety of saying or doing the wrong thing and being punished by her husband’s heavy hand.
“Are you sure?” His eyes searched her face, so she struggled to keep her expression calm as she nodded again.
He started to say something else, then seemed to think better of it. He bid her gut nacht again before he went out of the room.
She pressed her hands to her mouth to silence her soft sob as the tears she’d kept dammed for the whole day cascaded down her cheeks. She should be grateful Joshua had given her and Sammy this lovely room. And she was. But she also felt utterly alone and scared.
“What have I done?” she whispered to the silence.
She’d made, she feared, another huge mistake by doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.
Joshua’s first thought when he opened his eyes the next morning was, Where am I? The angle of the ceiling was wrong. There was a single window, and the walls were too close to the bed.
Memory rushed through his mind like a tempest, wild and flowing in every direction. Yesterday he’d married Rebekah, his best friend’s widow.
Throwing back the covers, he put his feet on the rug by the bed. His beloved Tildie had started making rugs for the bedrooms shortly after they were wed, and she’d replaced each one when it became too worn. As he looked down through the thick twilight before dawn, he saw rough edges on the one under his feet. Sorrow clutched his heart. His sweet wife would never make another rug for the kinder.
Rebekah was his wife now. For better or for worse, and for as long as they lived.
He drew in a deep breath, then let it sift past his taut lips. He’d honored Lloyd’s request, and he shouldn’t have any regrets. He didn’t. Just a question.
Where did he and Rebekah go from here?
Unable to answer that, because he was not ready to consider the question too closely, he pushed himself to his feet. He dressed and did his best to shave his upper lip without a mirror. As he pulled his black suspenders over his shoulders, he walked out of the bedroom.
Light trickled from beneath one door on the other side of the hall. He heard heavy footfalls beyond it. Timothy must already have gotten up, which was a surprise because most mornings Joshua had to wake his older son. Not hearing any voices, he guessed Levi was still asleep. Not even the cacophony of a thunderstorm could wake the boy. The other doorway was dark. He considered making sure Deborah was up so she wouldn’t be late for school, but decided to let her sleep. It had been late by the time the kinder had gone to bed last night.
As he went down the stairs, Joshua heard the rumble of a car engine and the crunch of tires on gravel. His neighbor must be heading into Philadelphia this morning. Brad always left before sunup when he wanted to catch the train into the city, because he had to drive a half hour east to reach the station.
It was the only normal thing today, because as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he smelled the enticing aromas of breakfast cooking. He glanced at the bedroom where he usually slept. The door was closed.
The propane lamp hissed in the kitchen as he walked in to see Rebekah at the stove. She wore a dark bandana over her glistening hair. Beneath her simple black dress and apron, her feet were bare.
“Sit down,” she said as if she’d made breakfast for him dozens of times. “Do you want milk in your kaffi?”
“No, I drink it black in the morning.”
“Are the others awake?”
“Only Timothy.” He was astounded how they spoke about such ordinary matters. There was nothing ordinary about Rebekah being in his kitchen before dawn.
“Gut. I assumed he’d get up early, too, so I made plenty of eggs and bacon.” Turning from the stove, she picked up a plate topped by biscuits. She took a single step toward the table, then halted as her gaze locked with his.
A whirlwind of emotions crisscrossed her face, and he knew he should say something to put her at ease. But what? Her fingers trembled on the plate. Before she could drop it, he reached for it. His knuckle brushed hers so lightly he wouldn’t have noticed the contact with anyone else. A heated shiver rippled across his hand and up his arm. He tightened his hold on the plate before he let it fall to the floor.
He put the biscuits on the table as she went back to the stove. Searching for something to say, he had no chance before Timothy entered the kitchen. His son walked to the table, his head down, not looking either right or left as he took his seat to the left of Joshua’s chair at the head of the table.
Rebekah came back. Setting the coffeepot on a trivet in the center of the table, she hesitated.
“Why don’t you sit here?” Joshua asked when he realized she was unsure which chair to use. He pointed to the one separated from his by the high chair he’d brought down from the attic before the wedding yesterday. He’d guessed she would want it for her son, but now discovered it created a no-man’s-land between them.
She nodded as she sat. Was that relief he saw on her face? Relief they were no longer alone in the kitchen? Relief the high chair erased any chance their elbows might inadvertently bump while they ate?
He pushed those thoughts aside as he bent his head to signal it was time for the silent grace before they ate. His prayers were more focused on his new marriage than food, and he hoped God wouldn’t mind. After all, God knew the truth about why he’d asked Rebekah to be his wife.
As soon as Joshua cleared his throat to end the prayer, Timothy reached for the bowl containing fluffy eggs. He served himself, then passed the bowl to Joshua. That was followed by biscuits and apple butter as well as bacon and sausage.
Each bite he took was more delicious. The biscuits were so light he wondered why they hadn’t floated up from the plate while they’d prayed. The kaffi had exactly the right bite for breakfast. He could not recall the last time he’d enjoyed a second cup at breakfast, because his own brew resembled sludge.
For the first time in months, Timothy was talkative. He had seconds and then thirds while chattering about a baseball game he’d heard about yesterday at the wedding, a game won by his beloved Phillies. It was as if the younger version of his son had returned, banishing the sulky teen he’d become. Even after they finished their breakfast with another silent prayer, Timothy was smiling as he left to do the barn chores he usually