Disappointment blanketed me, but I knew it would be prideful and plain old silly to not accept her generosity. “Thank you for your kind offer.”
NINE
Several hours later, the rain increased and the wind gained velocity. It looked as though I would spend another lonely evening. I missed my parents, but I knew they had their hands full. I’d assured them I was a grown woman and would be fine by myself. But I wasn’t. I was so lonely that I wished Beatrice had invited me to the big house for dinner.
Another electrical storm lumbered up the valley.
I filled the kettle with water to make a soothing cup of tea, set it on the stovetop, and ignited the flame. The kettle seemed to take forever to shrill. I rushed over to turn off the stove and brought down a cup and a tea bag. As I poured water over the bag, a clap of thunder sounding as loud as a stick of dynamite exploding hit a tree or building nearby. The floor shook. My hand jerked, spilling most of the hot liquid onto the counter. I wondered if the main house had been zapped and if the owner had a lightning rod, unlike Dat, who maintained God was in control.
I went to the window and saw the electric lights still beaming in the nursery. Beatrice came flying out the back door and beckoned me to come to her. She was waving her arms and yelling in what I thought was Italian. The last thing I wanted to do was brave the downpour as the droplets of rain bounced off the ground. I knew I must respect my elders, but this woman was making it hard for me to be polite.
Well, I was glad I’d bought the new shoes for tomorrow.
I put on my rain jacket, rubber boots, and a scarf, and then I sprinted over to the back porch and mounted the steps.
Beatrice’s words came out staggered. “The maple tree—out front—got struck. What if it falls and hits the house?”
I was at a loss for words. I’d always lived at home where my dat took care of everything.
She wrung her hands. “If the tree dies, Glenn will be crushed. He told me it was one of the reasons he bought this place.”
I saw headlights entering the parking lot and recognized Stephen’s pickup. He pulled up alongside the house and jumped out. He wore a plastic rain jacket and boots. “I thought I’d better come over and check things out.” He glanced my way. “I live just down the road.”
Beatrice told him about the tree, and Stephen brought out a flashlight. “I’ll go have a look-see. Beatrice, would you turn on the front porch light?”
I followed them into the house and to the front door, through a plush, modern kitchen with a gas stove and the latest electrical cooking devices. Beatrice flipped a switch, illuminating the porch.
Stephen swung open the door, trotted down the steps, and stood out in the clipped grass yard, shining his flashlight beam on the tree’s mighty trunk. “The maple was hit. It’s not smashed or missing limbs, but I can see a gash down the side.” He shone the beam up and down the tree’s lengthy torso. “Nothing to be done about it tonight, and it sounds as though the storm is moving on.”
“It’s an ill omen.” Beatrice turned to glare at me. “Un cattivo presagio.”
Stephen flicked his flashlight on and off. “Now, now, Beatrice, we have electrical storms every so often. The weatherman predicted this one.”
“Well, we’ve had two since Eva arrived. And now Glenn’s beautiful maple tree…”
I felt compelled to defend myself. “My dat has lost many trees during storms.” But I’d never seen damage like this.
“It looks as though a giant hand ripped off a strip of bark and tossed it across the yard,” Beatrice said.
“I’m glad I wasn’t standing near it.” Stephen stroked his jawline “It’s been a long day, and I’d better get home.” He turned to leave.
“Wait.” I moved further out onto the porch. “What happened with the Amish couple and the buggy?”
“I drove the driver and the damaged wheel to a repair shop. The owner gave him a loaner until he fixes the wheel. Then I returned the man and the extra wheel and dropped him off. He assured me he was fine and didn’t need additional help. Several of his Amish neighbors had waited and would assist him. One brought him a fresh horse. I have to give it to the Amish. They take care of each other.”
“That they do,” Beatrice said. “They obey the Bible as we all should. ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.’ ”
“Indeed.” Stephen sent her a smile, but his eyes remained sapped of energy. “See you in the morning.” He trotted down the steps and into his pickup. Moments later, his vehicle exited the parking lot.
“I hope this has taught you a lesson.” Beatrice ushered me into the house and secured the front door. “Stephen is a fine man, but he’s not one of you. What would your parents think? You should never have accepted a ride from him. And then you return in a patrol car?”
“He’s my boss until Glenn returns.”
She scowled. “Don’t you wish to find a good Amish husband?”
I lowered my chin and resisted answering. Then a thought occurred to me. “Since I’m here, may I take the soup stock with me?”
“I suppose, if you promise not to drop it.”
“I’ll guard it with my life.”
Her face bunched up as though she’d eaten a slice of lemon. It was unlikely she believed anything I said.
TEN
The next morning sunlight streamed into the cabin, sneaking past the crack between the window and the roller shades. A wren’s melodic trilling from outside my bedside window announced it was time to rise. Good. I hadn’t overslept. Plus, I
