Thomas nodded. “Yah. That’s a good idea, actually.”
It was a solution that hadn’t occurred to him. Maybe it took a woman’s touch to get there. He glanced over at Patience and smiled. Did she know how much she did for him, just by being here at his side while he waded through the biggest challenge of his life?
“What’s a good idea?” Rue asked.
Had he said that in English? He hadn’t meant to, but there was no harm done.
“What if we made a very special quilt—that’s a blanket for your bed—out of your old clothes?” Thomas asked. “You see, you’re growing fast, and soon you won’t be able to even squeeze into those clothes. And in the winter, they’ll be too cold. But if you had a quilt, when it’s cold, you could wrap yourself up in it.”
“Ooh...” Rue smiled. “Yah, I like that.”
Yah. Had he heard that right? She’d answered like an Amish girl. He looked over Rue’s head to find Patience smiling, too, with a twinkle in her eye.
“Good, then,” he said, not wanting to draw attention to it. “We’ll see what we can do.”
The creek was set back from the road a little way, shaded by spreading trees. Patience could feel all tension seeping out of her at the tranquil scene—grass rippling in a warm breeze, lush trees, the babble of water that she couldn’t yet see, although she knew the land well enough to know that the line of trees would be along its banks. A swarm of sparrows flapped up like a sheet in the wind farther on down the stream, billowed, then settled again in the trees. Thomas tied up the horses with a long enough line to let them graze, and he carried the basket as well as a worn blanket down toward the water with Rue dancing along ahead of them.
Patience had been thinking about that tender moment between them at the lilac bushes all evening, and she’d prayed earnestly that God would simply take away whatever it was that seemed to be brewing between them. She prayed for God to provide for Thomas and Rue—to give them the mamm in their family that they needed. She knew that wouldn’t be her, and while the prayer did stick in her throat just a little, she prayed that Thomas’s wife would capture his heart and they’d love each other well.
It was the kind of prayer that a good woman prayed—at least, that’s what she thought. A good woman should be able to pray a thankful prayer for other people’s blessings, but she still found that it hurt to pray it. Maybe it was some selfish, sinful corner of her heart that wished he could stay single, too, and they’d remain close friends, and she wouldn’t have to watch him move on with another woman.
But out here by a babbling creek, the wind ruffling her dress and Rue laughing at the sheer freedom of the morning, she had to silently pray for strength. It would be too easy to fall for this man, and there would be no benefit in it. She wasn’t the wife for him.
“So you used to play here?” Patience said in English.
“Yah. My mamm would pack me and Noah a lunch and send us off on her floor-washing days. She always said we got in the way more than we helped, so we’d carry our lunch down here and we’d play for hours until our food was gone and we were good and hungry again. I used to use a rope and put it over a branch and we’d swing over the water.”
Patience could almost see them—two sun-browned boys whooping and playing.
“Were there only two of you in the family?” Patience asked. It was a noticeably small family for the Amish.
“Yah.” Thomas frowned. “I asked my mamm if she’d have more babies, and she always said that Gott was the one who gave kinner, and that I should take it up with Him. I never got more explanation than that.”
Patience could understand that kind of answer. She had a similar one, herself, except she wouldn’t have the pleasure of having even one child of her own. She often wondered why Gott had taken away this ability for her. There didn’t seem to be any benefit to anyone else by denying her the simple ability to be a mamm. She was born Amish, with one duty to a husband, and unable to provide it.
“So you wanted more siblings?” she asked.
“Yah, of course,” he said. “My friends all had big families and lots of little brothers and sisters to pester them, and I felt like I missed out a bit. I had Noah, but our home was a quiet one. I liked the mayhem.”
“I suppose you could make up for that with a houseful of kinner of your own,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound strained.
He shot her a grin. “I suppose I could.”
Was he imagining those kinner belonging to them? Because she was...even though she knew it wasn’t a possibility.
“Come on,” he said, putting down the basket. “Let’s find a spot for the blanket.”
Thomas unfolded the worn quilt and handed her one side of it. They shook it open, and then spread it down on the lush grass that lined the water.
“Can I go in?” Rue pleaded. “Can I go into the river?”
It wasn’t much of a river, and there hadn’t been much rain that spring, either, so it was only a few inches deep and rippled over the rocks in a merry babble.
“Yah, go ahead,” Thomas said, and he crossed his arms over his chest, watching Rue pull off her shoes and dip her toes into the water.
“It’s warm!” Rue said, and she lifted her dress up above her knees and stepped farther in. “Are there fish, Daddy?”
“There might be,” he said. “If you look really closely.”
Patience couldn’t help but smile, and she put the picnic basket on
