Patience folded the wet towel and hung it up. “He’s been through a lot.”
“More than any of us know, I’m sure,” Hannah replied, then she batted her hand through the air. “But you go on, now. I can handle the rest. Thomas will be waiting on you.”
“Thank you, Hannah,” Patience replied. “I’ll make it up to you this evening.”
It was a cool morning, and as Patience walked down the drive, she could feel fall coming in the air. A couple of leaves had started to turn—only one or two—but it was a hint at things to come.
Trees lined the gravel drive, and their branches stretched overhead, leaves trembling in the morning breeze. Some magpies chattered from the top of one tree, and they were answered by a group of crows—some sort of bird standoff happening above her head. She waved at Samuel Kauffman as she walked past. He was bent over a shovel, harvesting the last of the potatoes from their garden just past the horse stable. There were three draft horses grazing in the pasture beyond, and the animals looked up at her in mild curiosity.
Ruben had owned a property similar to this one, and there had been a time when she’d imagined what it would be like to be his wife, to be mistress of that home, to be the mamm calling those kinner down to breakfast. She still felt a pang of regret at all she’d given up in a life with Ruben, but she knew it had been the right choice. She wouldn’t be able to give him what he truly wanted, and even if he left his offer of marriage on the table after he knew that she couldn’t give him babies, she knew he’d be settling. It wasn’t the kind of marriage a woman dreamed of, where a man had to lower his hopes in order to be with her.
In some ways, coming to a new community was a fresh start. She didn’t know these people, their histories or their families. But the farther one went from home, the more it all looked the same. Amish lives all revolved around the same ideals—marriage, children, farming... A plain life was not an easy life, nor was it excitingly different in another community. Her problems would not change, but at least here in Redemption, she’d have a meaningful job.
When Patience approached the Lapp house, she could hear Rue’s crying a good way up the drive. And when she arrived at the door, she knocked twice before it was flung open by a frazzled-looking Thomas. His hair was tousled and from inside she could hear the renewed wails of his young daughter.
“Patience!” he said, stepping back. “You’re here.”
“I am.” She met his gaze questioningly.
“Go!” He gestured inside. “Help me with this!”
Patience swept past him, and she heard the door thunk shut behind her as she headed into the kitchen. The other men seemed to be out doing their chores, because it was only Mammi in the kitchen with Rue, and she was standing at the sink, completely ignoring the meltdown going on in the center of the kitchen floor. She looked up with a mild smile on her face.
“Good morning, Patience,” she called, her voice hardly to be heard over the tantrum.
Rue lay there, drumming her heels against the floor, howling her heart out. Patience looked down at her for a moment, then pulled up a chair and sat down on it right next to Rue.
“What happened?” Patience asked.
“We told her that she was getting new clothes,” Thomas replied, shrugging helplessly. “And then...this!”
The child continued to wail and pushed herself away from the chair another couple of feet, but when she got no more attention than Patience’s watchful eye, her crying lowered in volume until she lay curled up in a ball, sobbing softly. It was then that Patience sat down on the floor next to her and held out her arms.
“Come for a hug, Rue,” Patience said softly, and Rue crawled into her lap and leaned her tear-streaked face against Patience’s shoulder, then let out a long, shuddering sigh.
“Now,” Patience said. “What is the problem, little one?”
“I don’t want a new dress,” Rue said, her voice trembling. “I don’t want it.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“I don’t want it...”
At this age, Rue wouldn’t even know why not, and it likely wouldn’t matter. What Rue didn’t want was this—a new home, a father she’d never known, a way of life utterly foreign to all the things that used to comfort her.
“We aren’t getting a new dress today,” Patience said simply.
Rue looked up, startled.
“But Daddy said—”
“We’re looking at fabric today. This is fabric—” She fingered Rue’s nightgown between her fingers. “It comes in huge rolls. You’ll see them.”
“But no dress?” Rue asked.
“No. We’re only getting fabric. I have to sew the dress myself. You can watch me. I’ll use a needle and thread. Have you ever seen that?”
“No.” Rue shook her head.
“It takes some time. But it’s fun. And you can see how it works. And you’ll be wearing your own clothes while I do it.”
“Oh...” Rue wiped her nose across her hand. “I like my clothes.”
“They are very nice,” Patience said. “Did your mamm buy them for you?”
Would mentioning her mamm only make this worse?
“Mommy got me this nightgown,” Rue said softly, holding it out to look at the picture on the front. “It’s a princess nightgown.”
“Very pretty...”
“And Mommy got me my unicorn shirt.” Rue was looking up earnestly into Patience’s face now,
