be mischievous. And those three are still little.”
Freeman laughed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Honor glanced out the window to where her three red-cheeked boys were playing in the snow. Justice had climbed up on the gate, and Tanner was pushing it open and shut while Elijah threw snowballs at them both.
At least, she guessed he was attempting to throw snowballs. His aim was good, but he hadn’t quite mastered the art of forming fresh snow into a ball. It was probably for the best, she thought, because no one was crying yet. Even Greta, who was in the barnyard, tossing shelled corn to the chickens and ducks, seemed to be having a good time.
Honor was glad. It wasn’t often that she saw Greta enjoying herself. The girl had been so homesick when she first arrived that Honor had seriously considered sending her home. However, Silas’s sister had made it clear that she had a lot of mouths to feed and the wages Honor paid Greta were a blessing to the family. There were nine children still at home, and the father was disabled, his only income coming from what he earned fixing clocks. And as inexperienced as Greta seemed to be with most chores, she was better than no help at all for Honor.
“Have you got time to help me for a couple of minutes?” Luke asked, interrupting Honor’s thoughts. “This would go faster if you could hold that end of the board.”
She glanced at him standing at a window, a freshly cut board in his hand. She tried not to smile. She still didn’t want him here, but she was astonished at the amount of work he’d gotten done in only three days. And it was amazing how easily he seemed to be easing into the household. The children were already trailing after him as if they had known him their whole lives. That rankled most of all. “Of course,” she said as she put Anke in her play yard.
Honor wondered why she hadn’t found someone to do this carpentry work sooner. But she knew why. It was her own fear of spending all her savings, leaving nothing to live on, as Silas had warned she would. Silas had made all the financial decisions in their marriage. He’d even given her an allowance for groceries and household items. And now that she was free to make her own decisions, it had taken some time begin to trust her own judgment.
“Just hold this end,” Luke instructed, indicating a length of wood. “The kitchen will feel a lot snugger once these leaks around the window are patched. Just some decent framing and some caulk is all you needed here.”
It already felt a lot warmer. The first thing that Luke did every morning when he arrived was to chop wood and fill the wood box. She could cut wood, and she was capable of carrying it. But it was hard work. Luke made it seem easy. Of course, she had propane heat to fall back on, but firewood from her own property was free.
Honor grabbed her end of the board and held it in place.
“Something smells wonderful,” he said between the strikes of his hammer. The nails went in true and straight. “Downright delicious,” he persisted.
She sighed. “I’m making a rice pudding. I put it in the oven while you were rehanging the gate.”
He glanced out the window to where all three of the children were now swinging on the gate. “It looks like those hinges are getting a thorough quality-control inspection.”
Honor laughed. “That’s a nice way of putting it. Most people aren’t quite so charitable.”
“They ought to be. They’re fine youngsters.”
“Danke.” She thought so, even if they were full of mischief. But that was natural, wasn’t it? Boys were mischief makers. It was their nature.
Luke pushed another piece of trim into her hands. “Line the bottom of that up with the horizontal board.”
“Like this?”
“Just a little higher. There. That’s perfect.” He quickly drove several finishing nails into place. “A little paint and this window will give you another ten years of service.”
“I can do the painting,” she offered. “At least in here.” She wanted the trim and ceiling white. The walls were a pale green, lighter than celery. She liked green, and the white trim would set it off and make the room look fresh.
“You’re welcome to it, if you can find the time. Painting isn’t one of my favorite tasks. I can do it if I have to, but I’m happier with the woodworking.” He motioned to the corner of the room where he’d pulled up a section of cracked and worn linoleum. “The original floor is under here. White pine, I think. Wide boards. If we took up all the linoleum and refinished the floor, it would be a lot cheaper than putting down another floor covering.” He met her gaze. “What do you think?”
She considered. “A saving when there was so much money to go out would be a blessing, but...” She frowned, trying to think how to word her thought delicately, then just said what was on her mind. “You think the children will ruin it?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “But more than one family of children has lived in this kitchen over the last two hundred years, so I doubt it. The hardwood would come up beautiful.”
“And plain?”
“As plain as pine.” He chuckled and she found herself smiling with him. “Plain enough to suit a bishop.”
“And we want to do that, don’t we?” she replied.
Staying within the community rules was a necessary part of Amish life, one that she’d never felt restricted her. Rather, it made her feel safe. The elders of the church, the preachers and the bishop, told the congregation what God expected of them. All she had to do was follow their teaching, and someday, when she passed out of this earthly existence, she would be welcomed into Heaven. It was a comforting certainty, one that she had dedicated her life to living.
Anke pulled herself to her feet and tossed a rag doll out of her play yard onto the floor. Luke scooped it up and handed it back to her. She promptly threw it a second time, giggling when he retrieved it yet again.
“It’s a game,” Honor said. “She’d keep it up all day if you’d let her.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Look at the time. I’d best get the dumplings rolled for dinner.”
Luke handed the doll to Anke again, then tickled her belly through the mesh side of the play yard. The baby giggled. “She was born after her father passed, wasn’t she?” he mused.
Honor nodded. “She was.”
“It must have been terribly difficult for you, not having him with you. And after, when Anke was an infant.”
Honor thought carefully before she responded. She wasn’t going to lie to make her late husband out to be someone he wasn’t, but she wouldn’t disrespect him, either. “Silas was a good man, but he believed that small children were the responsibility of the mother. He said he would take them in hand when they were older.”
How old, she wasn’t certain. Tanner hadn’t been old enough to command his father’s attention beyond Silas’s insistence that their little boy hold his tongue at the table, in church and whenever adults were present. As for Justice and Elijah, she couldn’t recall Silas ever holding one of them in his arms or taking them on his lap. Not to read to them. Certainly not to snuggle with them. Looking back, she could see that her decision to marry Silas had been impulsive, she’d agreed without really thinking through her options. If she was honest with herself, the truth was, she married Silas because he was the first man to ask. After Luke.
“I’m so sorry that you had to—”
“Don’t be sorry for me, Luke,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “We all have trials to live through. They say that God never gives anyone more than they can bear.”
His green eyes filled with