The thought of going into the main house with her made me nervous. “I can wait until tomorrow. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble, and I have nothing else to do. Usually I’m so busy when the owners are home, but they won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”
“There is one thing. I neglected to bring a book.”
She fingered the small gold cross at her neck. “The Yoders have plenty of books, but perhaps not what you’re used to reading.”
“I like reading the classics and some contemporary books without violence or immorality.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Come around tomorrow when I’m not just about to prepare my supper, all right?”
“That’s very kind of you. If you think the owner won’t mind.”
“No, Glenn has a veritable library. And his wife, Rose, is generous too.”
I felt a drop of rain on my cheek.
“Looks as though clouds have moved in.” She angled her hefty torso toward the back porch. Was she afraid of melting like the witch in the Wizard of Oz? Not that I wanted to get drenched either.
I heard a rumble of thunder in the distance. “Good night, then,” I said, but she’d already spun away. She ascended the porch steps and plunged through the back door, a black cat at her heels.
Beatrice called Minnie’s name, but then she slammed the door shut when the dog didn’t respond.
FIVE
Seconds later I found myself standing in a deluge of rain. I dashed to the cabin and was glad to find it still unlocked. Cold and clammy air encompassed me. I lit the lamp next to the recliner and patted my face with a hand towel. I set about hanging up my dresses in the first closet I’d ever had. I used the pegs on the wall for my aprons.
I glanced in the mirror above the bureau. Ach, my cap was drenched and flattened. I wondered how long I’d looked disheveled. In the dim light, my face appeared creased like that of a woman twice my age. Crow’s-feet at the corners of my eyes, crevices on my forehead. Vanity was a sin, I told myself, but my ghastly image made my throat shrink with sadness. If Jake ever came home for good and wasn’t married, he might turn away with distaste. Yet Beatrice had landed herself a husband. No doubt at a young age, when her skin was blemish-free and her temperament charming for his sake.
I pulled out my hairpins and tossed my dripping kapp on the showerhead in the bathroom. With a towel I blotted my soggy hair—a pitiful, tousled mess. Next, I removed the straight pins from my black apron’s waist, set them on the bureau on a small tray, and then hung up the apron and dress. I slipped on my nightgown, nestled into my fuzzy bathrobe, and found my slippers, glad I’d thought to bring them along.
I extracted my toothbrush from the suitcase. I hadn’t put away most of my belongings, but I shut the suitcase and set it against the wall. Fatigue enshrouded me, but I dug through the cardboard boxes. I found a battery-powered clock I didn’t recognize. Perhaps Marta had dropped one of hers in there for me—an unexpected act of kindness.
Raindrops pattering on the roof turned into a torrent of splatting. I hoped the roof was waterproof. A flash of blue-white light filled the room, followed by a blast of thunder. I was used to storms, but I recoiled, feeling exposed and frightened. I could do nothing about it except start a fire in the hearth, see what Mamm had prepared for me to eat, and enjoy my supper—alone.
Split wood, kindling, and crumpled newspaper sat on the hearth, and a box of matches perched on the mantel. Someone had been thoughtful. In no time, my fire sprang to life, hungry flames licking the kindling. The fire’s crackling sound brought me a feeling of safety and peace until I heard a scratching at the front door. What in the world?
I cracked open the door to find the owners’ scruffy terrier, her coat drenched, looking up at me with hopeful eyes.
“Shoo. Go home. What in the world do you want? Certainly not to come in and dirty the floor.” But her wagging tail and whining tugged at my sense of pity.
I closed the door, hurried to the kitchen counter, and returned with a few paper towels. When I opened the door, I hoped the pooch had retreated to the main house, but she was still there.
“How could Beatrice leave you outside on such a miserable night?”
Blobs of rain bounced off the earth. Lightning shattered the sky. A deafening strike hit a tree close by, and the dog bolted into my cabin.
“Hey, hund, wait a minute.” I blotted the animal’s fur and paws. I dropped a cloth towel on the floor. “You sit on this,” I told her, and I was surprised when she obeyed. What had Beatrice called her? Minnie? I supposed that was an appropriate name.
“What would your owner say if she knew you were left out in the rain?” The pup gazed up at me as if she understood how off-kilter I felt.
Minutes later, I munched on a meat loaf sandwich on wheat bread as only Mamm could prepare. I plopped down on the small couch. Minnie sat at my feet sniffing the air, her ears pricked. I knew I shouldn’t be suckered in, but I broke off a corner and tossed it to her. She snagged the treat out of the air before it hit the floor.
As I glanced out the window, another flash of lightning slashed the sky, followed by bellowing thunder. The dog dropped to her stomach. Shivering, she nestled at my feet.
“I’m not letting you on this couch with me, so don’t get any ideas.”
The wind gained velocity, blasting against the cabin, making the windowpanes rattle and the timbers creak. I heard
