I recalled my bookshelf at home. “Why didn’t I bring something to read?”
Minnie cocked her head. I was asking a dog for advice? That was a first. I looked out the front window to see the porch light flicker off. The nursery lights and the streetlamps on the main road were snuffed like candles. I could see a dim light on the third floor of the main house. Beatrice must have had a battery-powered light fixture or a lantern.
I scanned the room and saw a Bible sitting on a shelf in the nightstand. It wasn’t the kind of reading I had in mind, but it might calm my racing thoughts. I’d never get to sleep with this raging storm even if my stomach was full. And what should I do with the dog? I guessed she would have to stay inside.
I shuffled into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. Again, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and winced at my pathetic reflection. Illuminated by the battery-operated lamp, my hair looked drab and my features elongated. I’d shower in the morning and spend extra time combing and parting my hair. Thankfully, I’d brought several clean and pressed kapps.
I draped my Lone Star quilt from home over the bed. A perfect fit. Then I pulled back the sheet and blanket and snuggled inside my chilly cocoon. The mattress felt soft and squishy. I imagined the previous resident, Edna, had weighed quite a bit more than I did. She’d broken the springs in and left a few lumps. I propped the pillow against the headboard, all the while listening to the rain beating against the windows. A lightning strike shattered the air. Poor Beatrice. Should I go check on her? No. If she was on the third floor, she probably wouldn’t hear my knocking.
With the lantern on my nightstand, I opened the worn Bible somewhere in the middle and found it written in English. Our family Bible was in German. Not knowing where to start, I opened at the bookmark and read Psalm 4:8 aloud. “I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, LORD, only makest me dwell in safety.”
I’d never been a good sleeper, and, apparently, Edna suffered from insomnia too. But I felt my lids droop. I’d endured a long day.
Knuckles rapping on the door made me jerk. Had I thought to lock it? Minnie leaped to her feet and growled. She sniffed under the doorjamb and then barked.
“Who’s there?” My voice wobbled.
“Stephen Troyer. Are you okay? Is Minnie in there with you?”
Hating to leave the comfort of the bed, I jammed my feet into my slippers, plopped a scarf atop my head, and dove into my black coat. I cracked the door open.
“Sorry to bother you.” Stephen stepped inside and shut the door behind him as the wind whooshed into the small space. Minnie jumped on his leg. “There you are, you scamp. Beatrice was worried sick you’d run away.”
I was tempted to tell him the woman left the poor animal out in the pouring rain, but I held in my words.
“I bet you want your supper, don’t you, girl?” Stephen bent down to fluff Minnie’s furry head. “Although it looks like you’ve made yourself at home.”
I clutched the front of my coat together and buttoned it. “The poor little dog was frightened and wet. Next time I’ll leave her outside.”
“She’s a consummate beggar.”
“I gave her a little something.”
He scanned the cabin’s interior. “I knew you’d be all set here, but did you see that the main house and nursery have lost electrical power?”
“Yah, I’m used to living without electricity. But what about the café tomorrow?”
“The café alone has a generator that switches on the moment electricity goes off, so no worries in the morning. And a gas stove. I should have told you.”
“What about the tropical plants in the greenhouses?”
“We’ll light propane heaters if needed. Who knows? The electricity might come right back on tonight. But I doubt it.” He glanced out the window and sucked on his lower lip. “Beatrice called me from the house to warn me.”
I peered outside, but I couldn’t detect much. Just the silhouette of a woman standing in a third-floor window watching this cabin. Watching me entertain a man. Which she would no doubt report to whoever would listen.
“Is Beatrice all right?” I asked. “Should we check on her?” Not that I wanted to. Here I was with a man and the door shut, just what I told her I’d never do.
“I don’t think that’s necessary. She’s a tough old gal. Although in the past she was used to having a husband take care of her.” He grasped the doorknob. “Come on, Minnie. Let’s get you home.”
The dog flattened herself against the couch in front of the hearth.
“I don’t mind keeping her for the night if that’s okay.” I didn’t look forward to spending the night in solitude, but I’d never imagined myself wanting the company of a dog.
“Sure. She’s nice and dry, and the walk back to the house is muddy.”
When he opened the door, Minnie scrambled to her feet, darted outside, leaped off the porch, and raced to the main house.
Stephen chuckled. “She must still be hungry.” He took hold of the doorknob again as he stepped out into the darkness. “You should lock this door at night” were his parting words.
SIX
I awoke to the sound of a bird trilling. The sky was bright, the room illuminated by the sun’s brilliance. I glanced at my clock and was surprised to see it was already seven. After a fitful night of troublesome thoughts assaulting my brain, how had I managed
