fortunate he and Rebecca hadn’t been more than friends. He wouldn’t have wanted to let her down.
It wouldn’t have to be that way. The small voice of hope spoke in his head, but he squashed it. Maybe it didn’t have to be, but it was. After all, it had happened before. When Mamm left...
He’d been the closest to their mother of the three boys. So close he’d always thought he even knew what she was thinking. But he hadn’t. She must have been unhappy for a long time to run away to the Englisch world and leave them behind. And he’d never seen it. If he had, he might have made a difference.
Logic might say that a ten-year-old couldn’t influence what a grown woman did, but somehow Daniel didn’t believe in logic when he thought about running upstairs to Mammi’s bedroom to tell her about the good grade he’d got on his spelling test, only to discover that the room was empty of everything that belonged to her. Everything except the letter that lay on the pillow, addressed to Daad. Nothing for him, her favorite.
There had been times when he’d nearly run off to try to find her. And worse times when he didn’t know whether it was worth it to go on living. Daad, shattered himself, hadn’t been any help. They’d never have got through it without Onkel Zeb.
And then, just when Daniel had begun thinking that losing Mamm that way hadn’t tainted him forever, Aaron had left. Little Aaron, the baby brother he’d always looked after, taken care of, defended. He’d told himself taking care of Aaron was his job—maybe he’d even taken pride in how close they were.
But he’d failed Aaron, too. He hadn’t known that the forces of rebellion were growing so fiercely in Aaron that he’d pack up and leave. Like Mammi, except that Aaron hadn’t even left a note.
Daniel had understood then. He couldn’t be trusted not to fail the people he loved. So he certain sure couldn’t take the risk of letting a wife and children depend on him.
Onkel Zeb clattered back in with another armload. “You want to help me with the sawhorses?”
“Yah, sorry. I’ll get them.” Daniel shook off his mood. No sense reliving the past. This was now, and there was work to be done.
But when they pulled the last few things off the wagon, it was Onkel Zeb who paused, his thoughts clearly far away.
“You know something more about Rebecca,” Daniel said, knowing it was so. He waited. Was he going to hear what it was?
“I can’t tell you all of it,” his uncle said, continuing the conversation that was on both their minds. “Parts I don’t know, and parts Josiah most likely wouldn’t want repeated.” His solemn gaze met Daniel’s. “But I do know that Rebecca has seen more trouble than most folks twice her age. And right now, what she needs most is a friend.” He paused, and Daniel thought for a moment that he was praying. “You can be that friend she needs, Daniel. If you will.”
“Yah, for sure.” He didn’t need to know any details to promise that, but his heart was chilled, nonetheless. “I’ve always been Rebecca’s friend, and I always will be.”
* * *
By the next day, Rebecca had begun to feel that, aside from a few bumps in the road, Lige was doing better each day. And if he was, that meant she could be happier, as well. She and Leah were doing the breakfast dishes together after the younger children had left for school, and Leah’s sunny kitchen seemed to hold the echo of the kinder’s chatter and laughter.
“Come September, your Lige will be joining the other scholars on their way to school,” Leah commented. “He’ll like it, I’m sure. Teacher Esther is wonderful gut with the kinder.”
“It’s hard to believe my little one is that old. I’ll miss him.” Rebecca’s smile was tinged with a little regret. In a normal Amish family, Lige would have been joined by a couple of younger siblings by now.
“You won’t miss him as much as you think.” Leah’s tone was practical. “By then, your quilt shop will be thriving, and you’ll have plenty to keep you busy.”
“I hope so.” Rebecca breathed a silent prayer.
“I was thinking about the shop,” Leah said. “How would it be if I asked some of the other women to bring in quilts on consignment? I know several fine quilters who would like a regular store to sell their goods, instead of relying on mud sales and the like.”
Rebecca blinked. It seemed Leah was thinking ahead even more than she had. “That’s a grand idea, for sure. I’d love it. Do you really think they would? I’ve been away so long that they probably feel they hardly know me by now.”
“Ach, that doesn’t make a bit of difference. Folks remember you. You’d be doing a gut thing for them. And then there are some women like Martha Miller. She doesn’t get around much now, but she’d love to do more sewing for folks. You could get her some work by letting customers know that she does hand quilting.”
“Yah, I could.” Excitement began to bubble. “I could have a bulletin board, maybe, where I could post things like that for customers to see. Denke, Leah. You...” Her throat tightened. “I’m sehr glad Sam had enough sense to marry you. I couldn’t ask for a better sister.”
Leah clasped Rebecca’s hand with her soapy one. “Ach, it’s nothing. We’re wonderful glad you’ve come home.”
The back screen door closed softly, and Rebecca turned to smile at her son. It had to be Lige, because any of the others would have let the door bang.
“Mammi, can’t we go yet? Daniel is counting on me to help.”
“In a few minutes, Lige. I’ll be out as soon as I’m ready.”
He looked disappointed, but he didn’t argue. Sometimes she almost wished he would. Instead, he slipped quietly out again.
A silence fell between her and Leah, making her wonder if Leah was thinking the same thing.
“That Daniel,” Leah said. “The kinder are all crazy about him. It’s a shame he doesn’t have a passel of little ones of his own by this time.”
“I’ve thought that, too,” Rebecca admitted. “I kept expecting to hear he’d been married, but it didn’t happen.”
“No.” Leah shook her head. “I hope he wasn’t listening to that foolish talk that went around after Caleb’s first wife left him. Folks saying that history was repeating itself, and that the King men couldn’t find happiness in marriage.”
“That’s not just foolish, it’s downright wrong. Just because of their mother, and then Caleb’s wife...” Rebecca was too indignant to find the right words. “Anyway, with Caleb happily married now, surely that shows they were wrong.”
“Yah, you’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Leah dumped the dishwater and dried her hands. “But it’s hard to know what Daniel is thinking sometimes. He took it awful hard when Aaron jumped the fence.”
“He would,” Rebecca said, her heart aching for Daniel’s little brother, out there in the Englisch world somewhere. “Daniel always felt responsible for Aaron, especially after their mother left. He...”
Whatever she might have said was lost in the noise as a large truck came down the lane. Leah craned her neck to see out the window.
“It’s the moving truck,” she exclaimed. “Your things are here!”
Together they hurried outside, and Rebecca felt her heart beat a little faster. Her belongings—the furniture she’d wanted to bring, Lige’s toys, her collection of quilts—they were finally here. Now she could start to feel at home.
When they reached the rear of the truck, the driver was opening the door and letting down the ramp. Almost before he’d finished, the rest of the family had arrived—her mother and father from the grossdaadi house, Sam and the older boys from the barn and the eldest girl from the chicken coop. She even spotted Daniel hastening