“He might thank you later, then,” Thomas said.
“I hope so,” she replied. “He’s a good man, and another woman will be happy to snap him up.”
Yes, there would be women less beautiful than Patience waiting for a chance. And he looked at her quizzically. She wasn’t what he expected.
“I’m grateful you’re here to help me with my daughter,” he said. “All the same.”
Patience took a step down the stairs, then looked back at him over her shoulder. “It will all work out for good, Thomas.”
Was she talking about her situation, or his? Yes, that was what their faith told them, that all things worked together for good for those who loved Gott. But sometimes the working out took some time to get to. Hearts broke... And while Gott brought comfort, it wasn’t immediate. It was more like spring growth.
“Good night, Patience,” he said.
Patience smiled, and then turned and continued walking up the drive. His gaze lingered on her retreating figure for a couple of beats, and then he turned and pulled open the screen door once more. He went inside, past the washing-up sink in the mudroom and into the kitchen.
Noah stood with his hands in his pockets and he met Thomas’s gaze with a helpless look of his own.
“She’ll be back in the morning,” Thomas said. It would be a big help.
“Yah, that’s good.” Noah looked toward the kitchen sink. “I’ll do the dishes.”
The older Mammi got, the more like bachelors they all lived—cleaning up after themselves. Mammi was elderly, and she couldn’t do it alone.
“No, no,” Mammi said, as she always did. “That’s women’s work.”
“That child needs a woman tonight, Mammi,” Noah replied. “I can wash up the dishes.”
Rue sat at the table next to Amos, a half-finished cinnamon bun in front of her. Her eyes were drooping, and her little shoulders sagged as if under a heavy burden.
“I’ve got a nightgown for her,” Mammi said. “It’s a bit big. Looking at her, I could probably wrap her in it twice.”
“We might need to let her wear her own clothes,” Thomas said, looking toward the suitcase in the corner. “Until we can sort out something more appropriate.”
“Yah...” Mammi said with a sigh. “We might need to.”
He could hear the regret in her voice—those Englisher clothes were jarringly different from their Amish garb, and for him they were a reminder of those years he’d spent away from their community.
“I’ll carry the suitcase upstairs for you, Mammi,” Amos said, rising to his feet.
Rue looked up as Amos stood, then she turned tear-filled eyes onto Thomas. “I want my mommy.”
Thomas sank down on his haunches next to her. “I know, Rue.”
“But she’s dead,” she whispered.
“Yes...” Thomas felt his throat thicken with emotion. “Did your mommy tell you about Heaven?”
“Yes...” Rue’s chin trembled.
“Then you know that God is taking care of you,” Thomas said quietly. “And He’s taking care of her, too.”
The girl looked at him in silence. Did it mean anything to her right now? He wasn’t even sure. She was very young, and he didn’t know how much faith Tina had raised her with. Tina hadn’t been a strong believer when he’d known her... And he hadn’t been much of an example of a Christian man’s behavior, either. That was something he wouldn’t forgive himself for, and a mistake he’d never make again. He’d keep himself under control, and he’d find an appropriately Amish wife.
“It is time for bed now,” Thomas said.
“No.”
Thomas looked down at her, uncertain if he’d heard the girl right. “Come, Rue. Mammi will help you get your pajamas and she’ll show you your bed.”
“No.” Rue hadn’t raised her voice, but she did tip her chin up just a little bit.
Amish children didn’t say no at bedtime. At least he didn’t think so. He didn’t have any other children to compare this with, and he looked over at Mammi uncertainly.
“Come, Rue,” Mammi said, smiling. “We’ll get you dressed for bed.”
“No!” Rue shook her head and leaned back into the chair. “I don’t want to!”
Mammi’s eyes widened, and Noah laughed softly from where he stood at the kitchen sink, filling it with sudsy water.
“You don’t want to go to bed,” Thomas said.
“I don’t want to.”
“What if...” Thomas rose to his feet and rubbed a hand over his rough chin. “What if you got your pajamas on, then you came back downstairs and I told you a story?”
Rue eyed him uncertainly. “I want TV.”
“But without a TV, a story might be nice,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you think? I know all sorts of good ones.”
Mammi made a disapproving sound in the back of her throat, and Thomas realized he was likely digging himself into a hole with this little girl, but she couldn’t be blamed for not knowing their ways, or even for resenting them just a little bit. She’d lost her mother, after all. What was the harm in a story or two to put her to sleep on this first night in a strange home with no TV?
“She must learn to obey,” Mammi said in German.
“But first she must learn to like it here,” Thomas replied, then a smile tickled at his lips. “And we have no TV. That is a serious problem for an Englisher child.”
Mammi wasn’t amused, but Thomas was the daet, so she held out her hand to Rue.
“Come, Rue,” she said in English. “You’ll get your pajamas on, and then come back down to your daet. Okay?”
Rue slid off her chair, casting a tiny little smile in Thomas’s direction before she took Mammi’s hand and followed her up the staircase.
Noah stood at the sink washing the dishes, the water turning on for a moment as
