wouldn’t be tempted. “They’re nicer than Dan and Shirl.”
“Anyone would be nicer than them,” Jemima said. They’d only lasted at Dan and Shirl Miller’s house for five weeks. Jemima personally had thought they’d been there five weeks too long. Dan and Shirl had seemed nice enough when the social worker was there, but when she was gone, Dan’s and Shirl’s smiles disappeared. They’d given Jemima and her little brother lots of chores, yelled at Roy every time he forgot that he wasn’t supposed to suck his thumb, and weren’t even very nice at Thanksgiving dinner. Shirl had gotten really mad at Jemima when she’d revealed that she wasn’t thankful to be at the Millers’ house on Thanksgiving Day.
So mad that Jemima had been sent to her room without any food . . . and when Roy had started crying and sucking his thumb, he’d been sent from the table, too. He’d thrown himself on the twin bed next to her and bawled. Figuring he had every right to cry, she’d curled up on her own bed in a ball and tried to pretend she was anywhere else.
Yes, it had been a really bad night. But even though her stomach had been rumbling with hunger, she hadn’t regretted her honesty.
After all, how could she have uttered such a bold lie? She wasn’t thankful to be at the Miller house. Wasn’t thankful to be there at all. She missed her own parents and her old house and the turkey that her father had always hunted and their mother had always complained about plucking. She missed her own room and their life in the woods and the way that their mamm and daed did things.
She had not been grateful to have to share a room with Roy. She was not grateful to always be yelled at. She really hadn’t been grateful when she’d eyed the watery-looking chicken, boxed mashed potatoes, and canned green beans that had been their Thanksgiving supper.
When Melanie, their social worker, stopped by the next morning, Jemima had told her everything. Melanie had hugged her tight and asked her to hold on just a little bit longer, because she was working hard to find them someplace better.
It had taken another three weeks, but now here they were at the Kurtzes’ house. She was very thankful for the move, but she’d learned over the last couple of months not to expect too much . . . or to wish for things that probably would never happen.
All that did was make her feel worse.
“Are you going to call Elizabeth Anne E.A. or Mrs. Kurtz?” Roy asked, bringing her back to the present.
“I’m going to call her Mrs. Kurtz.”
Roy’s eyes got big. “Really?”
“I didn’t like having to call Mr. and Mrs. Miller Dan and Shirl. They had friendly names, but they weren’t friendly people.”
“They were mean.”
“All they cared about were the checks they got for watching us.” She lowered her voice. “Plus, Shirl told me that she was going to put us with a babysitter on Christmas Day because they’d gotten invited to Dan’s brother’s house. That wasn’t nice.”
“But E.A. and Will don’t seem like that.”
“We don’t really know them yet, Roy. They could act different in the morning. Some people do.”
His thin shoulders slumped. “Jah. I guess you’re right.”
“I know I am,” she replied. “It won’t do us any good to get attached to E.—I mean, Mrs. and Mr. Kurtz. They might not even keep us until New Year’s Day.”
Roy’s expression turned even more troubled. “I miss Mamm and Daed. How come they had to die?”
“Everyone said that Got wanted them early.” She shrugged. The explanation didn’t sound very comforting, but she guessed it was something they were supposed to be happy about. But even if the Lord had wanted their parents to go to heaven early, Jemima didn’t think being hit by a big truck was a very nice way to die. No one wanted to hear her say that, though.
“Roy?” E.A.’s voice sounded worried. “Roy, where are . . . oh. There you are,” she said as she peeked into Jemima’s bedroom. “Is everything all right?”
Roy scrambled to his feet. “Jah. I’m sorry I got out of bed. I won’t do it again.”
E.A.’s expression softened. “Oh, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. You know, I didn’t even ask if you two were used to sharing a room. Are you scared?”
Jemima spoke up before her brother could say a word. “We like having our own rooms. We’re used to that.”
“Jah,” Roy replied, scooting toward the door. “I like my own bedroom. Danke.” He darted out of her room as if he was afraid E.A. was going to change her mind.
Jemima felt her stomach twist into knots as E.A. turned to watch Roy walk down the hall. “He usually listens and stays in bed.”
E.A. turned back to her. “I’m not upset, Jemima. I had a feeling that your first night here might be difficult. That’s why I came upstairs to check on you.”
“Oh.”
“Are you all right? Do you need anything?”
“Nee. I am fine.” She sank against her pillows and pulled the flannel sheet up higher on her chest. “I’m going to go to sleep soon.”
“Ah. Well, I’ll be on my way, then. Sweet dreams, Jemima.”
“You too. I mean, gut naucht, Mrs. Kurtz.”
Some of E.A.’s smile dimmed. “Gut naucht to you as well, Jemima. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jemima sat perfectly still as she listened to her new foster mother walk down the hall, pause for a moment, then slowly descend the staircase. Only then did Jemima scoot farther into bed.
After turning off her bedside flashlight, Jemima closed her eyes and tried not to worry.
But, like always, attempting not to worry was as hard as wishing for sleep to come. At least she’d given up wishing for things that could never be, though.
Now she was rarely disappointed with how things turned out.
Chapter 2
“Is everything all right?” Will asked the moment E.A. walked inside their bedroom. “Are they scared? Do they need anything?”
E.A. carefully closed the door behind her before tossing her robe on the floor and crawling back into bed. “I don’t know.” And that was the truth. She had no idea how Jemima and Roy were feeling.
Looking even more concerned, Will sat up and faced her. “Well, what happened? You were in there for a while.”
“I found Roy in Jemima’s room. He was sitting on the edge of her bed and they were whispering. But the moment I showed up, he jumped to his feet and promised he wouldn’t get out of bed again. Next thing I knew, he was scurrying back to his room.” Hating how scared he’d looked—and how resigned Jemima had been—E.A. released a ragged sigh. “I think that boy actually thought I was going to get mad at him. Can you believe it? He thought I was going to get mad at him for talking to his sister. It makes me want to cry.”
“They’ve been through a lot, E.A. You’re still a stranger, remember?”
“I haven’t forgotten. I believe Melanie said that we’re the sixth foster family they’ve been with since their parents died three years ago.”
“She also said that the couple they were with before wasn’t a good fit and that the kinner had been especially unhappy there.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything, I feel worse—like we should have filled out the paperwork months ago.”
“You can’t think that way. Their rough time of it isn’t our fault, darling. You can’t take on all their burdens, and most especially not their past.”