“I don’t suppose . . .” Hannah let her question trail off.
She didn’t need to finish for Tillie to know what she was asking: whether she and Melvin had gotten married. “No.”
She didn’t have to say more, that since she and Melvin were not married, if he didn’t come back and marry her, they would be shunned, excommunicated. And that would defeat her whole purpose in returning. She might be able to live close—it was still a free country—but she wouldn’t be welcomed by the church, by the friends, neighbors, and family that she loved so much.
“So what now?” Gracie asked.
“You know we’re here to help and support,” Hannah explained.
“That’s right.” Gracie nodded, and Leah followed suit.
“I know,” Tillie replied. She knew that they would help her in any way possible. That’s what sisters did. And even if by birth Gracie was their cousin, she was like a sister to them all. “But that’s all I know.” She wished it were enough. Love and support would help her through, but they wouldn’t make the tough decisions she now faced.
“Let’s talk about something uplifting,” Leah suggested.
“Tell me more about Peter,” Tillie asked, grateful for the change in topic. “When did he start talking?”
When Jamie had first come down to Pontotoc to live, his nephew Peter was so traumatized by the fire that killed his mother, his father, and his baby sister that he didn’t speak a word. He too had suffered, with burns that left scars too big to hide and gave him a permanent limp. He had been understandably sullen and sad, but the little boy that Tillie had been reintroduced to this evening was a sight different than the one he had been when she had left.
“Let’s see,” Leah mused. “I guess it was right after Jamie and I got married.”
“Another thing you need to tell me all about,” Tillie demanded. She would much rather talk about her sisters’ triumphs and joys than her own heartache.
“Tuesday,” Leah promised. She looked around at them all. “Jamie wants to get Peter a new puppy for Christmas.” She went on to explain for Tillie’s benefit how Peter’s first dog had died in the fire that had killed his family. Peter himself had been injured trying to save his dog and her pups. Then, after they had moved to Pontotoc, Jamie had taken Peter into town. He and Brandon had found a stray, matted and dirty, outside Leah’s store. They had posted signs, and someone had claimed the pooch as their dog. But not before Peter had fallen completely in love. To help combat his obvious grief over losing yet another thing he had begun to care about, Jamie had taken Peter to the Randolph Animal Shelter. “And I promise you, he picked out the oldest dog in the place,” Leah said with a laugh. “But they bonded, and there wasn’t any changing Peter’s mind. But despite his age at adoption, Duke lived a good long while. He died this summer.”
“Did Peter take it hard?” Tillie asked. If he had, the loss seemed not to have set him back any. Which, as far as everyone was concerned, was a good thing.
“Hard enough. But he’s had time to grieve. Jamie thinks it’s a good time for another pet.”
“You’re not doing the whole Santa thing with him, are you?” Hannah asked.
Since Leah was a Mennonite, she celebrated Christmas a little differently than the rest of them, something Tillie hadn’t thought about until now.
“Do you have a Christmas tree?” she added before Leah could answer. She might be Amish, but she thought Christmas trees were about the prettiest thing she had ever seen. When she went into town as a child, she always had to be careful not to stare. If she lingered too long in front of some of the windows boasting the trees, she got a sharp reprimand from her father.
“No to Santa. Yes to a Christmas tree, though I’m not sure Jamie quite approves.”
“How does Peter feel about it?” Hannah asked.
Leah smiled. “He loves it.”
“You’re staying, right?” Gracie asked.
Tillie whipped her attention around to her cousin. “Staying?”
“At least through Christmas,” Hannah clarified.
“Jah,” Tillie said, doing her best not to sigh with relief. “Through Christmas.”
Chapter Four
Levi trudged back into the house from the barn, food bowl in one hand and Puddles at his heels. Judging from her size, she was going to whelp those pups any day now, and he would rather she be outside than in. But tonight it was going to be a little colder, and he couldn’t have them all freezing to death.
He let her into the house and led her to the kitchen. There was an old pillow there covered in an even older towel where she had been sleeping these last few cold nights. With any luck she would stay right there and have those pups if she happened to do so during the night . . . while she was inside the house. If luck was on his side . . .
Yet when had luck ever been with him?
“Dinner, then bed,” he told the dog. It was much easier to blame everything on luck—or the lack of it—than to try and figure out God’s plan.
He placed the filled food bowl next to her bed, then went back out to fetch her water. He had already filled the bowl and it was waiting by the outside spigot. Back in the house, he set it next to her food.
Puddles looked from the bowl to his face. She whined and thumped her tail against the floor.
“I’ll get something to eat later,” he promised her. Heaven knew he had enough in his icebox to last through the new year, but that was Mims and the rest of the church ladies at work. Someone was always coming in and out, though
