go help him?” Grace asked.
“Nope. Your dat ’s a smart guy. He can handle it.”
“So what about it? What about another boppli ?”
“Usually takes longer than that. Can’t say for sure, but I wouldn’t expect another right away.”
Grace thought about that a minute. Finally she nodded as if it made perfect sense. “I adore Rachel.”
“I know you do. You’re a gut schweschder .”
Grace folded her hands to say her prayers. As she was thanking God for her new drawing supplies, she remembered what else she was going to tell Miriam.
“Lydia’s cabins…” She yawned again, trying to keep her eyes open.“I’d like to go back and draw them. I tried to do it while we were riding home, but it was hard to catch the details, hard to remember.”
“I’m sure it’s difficult to draw while riding in a buggy.”
“Did you see the way the river wound behind the cabins?”
“I did.” Miriam leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“The light was just so…”
“It was.”
Grace fought to keep her eyes open. She wanted to talk more with Miriam, but things felt so warm and snuggly and right .
“Rest now, dear. If Gotte wants you to draw the cabins, He’ll make a way.”
Chapter 4
A aron thought he would toss and turn in the double bed he found in cabin four. He’d expected dust on the small table, sheets that hadn’t been washed, and a lumpy mattress. He’d thought the inside of the cabins would disappoint him as badly as the outside had.
He was pleasantly surprised.
All of the furnishings were certainly dated. The small table, four chairs, bed, a single nightstand, and one rocker all looked as if they were at least twenty years old.
Which didn’t matter at all because the workmanship was simple and excellent.
The bed was constructed from oak and Amish made. As he peered down and studied the way the headboard was fastened together, he was sure of it. Running his hand down the post, he appreciated the solid feel—no plastics, no fabricated wood.
Had his onkel Ervin made it? Had he made all the furniture in this room? Long ago, Ervin had worked with wood—before he’d left the family in Indiana and struck out on his own. His dad had told him some of the history.
Much of it Aaron hadn’t listened to very closely.
At the time he’d been in a hurry to be back in the fields. Hehadn’t had much time for remembering about the old days. Family stories were fine, but what use were they when a field needed planting or a horse was sick? The farm was what concerned him, not old stories about family members he could barely remember. He had been so sure his future lay outside the kitchen window, in the Indiana fields, and now he was here…
He was here and he was clueless.
Pulling out the chair, he dropped his provisions onto the table. Maybe it was his exhaustion, or maybe it was his low expectations. Whatever the reason, the clean room and Plain furnishings helped ease the tension from the day.
Lydia had been right about the food supplies in the office. Basics were there and nothing more. He’d found crackers on the shelves and a package of cheese and sausage in the gas-powered refrigerator. Interesting that the office had a phone but no electricity.
Did their bishop not allow it? Even for businesses?
Questions sifted through his mind as he sliced the cheese and sausage, placed them on the crackers, and ate until he was full. Chasing his dinner with cold water, he realized the food was exactly what he’d needed—simple but sufficient. Tomorrow he’d figure out a way to cook.
Would he need to cook? How long would he be staying? Was his job to sell the place or to clean it up?
Every time he sought to find an answer, he uncovered three more questions. So instead he pulled off his work boots, washed at the sink, and sank onto the bed, grateful for the firm mattress and soft pile of blankets.
The questions persisted, though.
Things he needed to know about the cabins, about his