“I hope not.” Tillie soaped and scrubbed.
“So do I. He’s always been an active andenergetic man. Crutches would slow him down.” Walt shifted in hisseat. He picked a piece of gingerbread to crumbs in his plate, butdidn’t eat it. “He is a God-fearing and faithful man who alwaysaccepts that whatever tests the Lord sends him, they are for hisgood. I must say, I’ve never seen him discouraged in his faith. Iwish I was more like him….” He drummed his fingers on thetable.
She tried to ignore the drumming and wash thedishes. Something bothered him. Should she ask the cause? No. If hewanted to tell her, he would. She smiled and turned to him. “Iguess I’m so new in my own faith I haven’t experienceddiscouragement.” As soon as the words left her lips, she regrettedthem.
Walt rose from his seat. He gave her a long,sad look. “You will.” He threw the crumbs away. “Rest time is over.I should get back to work.” He turned his back on her and left thekitchen.
Mouth agape Tillie stared after him as theteakettle began to whistle.
* * * *
On a cool, crisp day, about a week after MissColvill’s arrival, Tillie answered a knock at the front door. Awoman around Mother’s age stood on the doorstep, a valise in onehand and a piece of paper in the other.
“Good morning. May I help you?” Tillie prayedshe didn’t want accommodations. They had so little room left.
The woman’s kind features arranged in aworried frown. Beneath her bonnet, gray hair framed herheart-shaped face with friendly, yet apprehensive, blue eyes. Deepcrow’s feet revealed a woman who smiled and laughed often. Rightnow, though, her face registered surprise, as though she neverexpected a warm reception.
“Yes.” Her eyes darted past Tillie into thehouse. “My name is Abigail Greenly. Is this the Pierceresidence?”
“Yes. I’m Tillie Pierce. How can I helpyou?”
“I’ve come from the railroad depot. I came toGettysburg to be near my son at Camp Letterman. I went to everyhotel, but they say there’s no room at the inn, so to speak. Noneof the rooming houses have any vacancies either. I returned to thestation because I didn’t know what to do. I prayed for help, and aman came over and gave me this piece of paper with your name andaddress. He said you might have room for me. The man who wrote thisnote, Mr.”—she consulted the sheet then looked back at Tillie—“Mr.McCurdy said I might find a room here.”
“Uncle Robert!” Tillie stepped aside to lether in. “Please come in. My mother is upstairs. If you’ll excuseme, I’ll go and get her.” She took Mrs. Greenly’s cloak and hung itup, then excused herself and jogged up the stairs. Moments laterMother came down, with Tillie at her heels.
“Mrs. Greenly.” Mother held out a hand ingreeting. “I’m Mrs. Pierce. How do you do?”
“Mrs. Pierce.” Mrs. Greenly took Mother’shand. “I was told I might find accommodation with you.” She showedMother the slip of paper and explained her predicament and how shecame by their address. “I won’t be much trouble. I promise youthat. Every waking moment I intend to spend at my son’s bedside. Ijust need a place to lay my head at night.” She drew in a deepbreath and crinkled the paper in her palm.
Mother gave a soft smile and squeezed thewoman’s hands. “Of course you may stay with us. My brother did theright thing in sending you. No need to fret.” She led her into theparlor. “You must be tired. Tillie will take your things upstairsto Miss Colvill’s room.” She sat on one end of the sofa and Mrs.Greenly on the other. “We have other guests, but there’s plenty ofroom for one more.”
Tillie took Mrs. Greenly’s bag and ascendedthe stairs. Did Mother plan to take in any more strangers? How werethey to accommodate one more? Where were they going to get thefood? She did a mental check of all the people under their roof.First, Sam returned the Monday after Ginny’s funeral, Miss Colvill,the colonel, Private Bevans, Walt, Maggie, Mother, Father, herself,and now Mrs. Greenly. Too many people to feed. Tillie needed tospeak with Father. Maybe he’d stop Mother from taking in any morestrays.
* * * *
Tillie stood in the kitchen doorway peeringacross the yard. Father worked in the butcher shop after supper.Darkness approached early now, and he and Sam sharpened knives andcleaned the shop under lighted lamps. They spent most of their timeout there nowadays. Lifting her chin, she crossed to the shop andrapped an anxious tap on the door. “Father, may I have a word withyou?”
He smiled at her. “Tillie, what are you doingin here? I thought you hated this place.”
“I’m used to butchery.” She grinned. Instantheat infused her face at the wry note in her voice. She grewserious. “Can I speak to you—alone?”
He wiped his brow with his forearm. “Ofcourse. Sam, we’re pretty much finished, and I believe Mrs. Pierceset out more lessons for you.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam sighed, lowered his head, andshuffled off toward the house.
When he disappeared, she stepped inside.“Father, shouldn’t you speak to Mother about allowing anotherboarder? We don’t have enough to feed everyone and now Mrs.Greenly. I don’t know how we’re going to manage. Shouldn’t you saysomething? Ask Mrs. Greenly to leave?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Tilliesensed trouble headed straight for her. She shrank within herselfand waited for the storm of Father’s wrath to break over her head.Instead, he shook his head and gazed at her with sad eyes. “TheLord still needs to work on that selfish streak of yours,daughter.”
“I’m not being selfish, Father. I’m trying tostretch our resources so we can all eat.”
“It is selfishness, but I won’t debate you.”He sat at his bench and held his arms out to her. Withouthesitation she went to him and perched herself on his lap. Heclosed his arms around her with a quick squeeze.
“I’m
