Noelle’s hand flew to her chest. She was going to lose Dat too. Forcing her hand back to her lap, she exhaled. It wouldn’t do any good for Dat to see her alarmed.
The doctor said to pick up the medication at the pharmacy attached to the clinic, and then that she wanted to see Dat again in a month. “Call me if you have any questions.” She looked at Noelle. “Don’t hesitate to call 9-1-1, like you did before, if your Dat worsens.”
Dr. Morrison leaned toward Dat. “This is tough news. I know you’re brave, but are you doing all right?”
He nodded. “I lost my wife three months ago. I would like to stay around longer for Noelle—she’s my youngest daughter—but like I said, I am not afraid to die.” His gaze met Noelle’s. “And this should give me time to figure out things for her.”
The doctor nodded at Dat. “I admire your fortitude.” Then she smiled at Noelle. “And yours too.”
Noelle wanted to protest about hers, but she wouldn’t make things worse for Dat.
As they sat in the pharmacy waiting room, Dat, grasping his cane, leaned toward her and said, “I’m going to spend the day at LuAnne’s on Thursday. She came over while you were taking the wash off the line yesterday.”
“Why didn’t she talk to me?”
“I think she was afraid you wouldn’t approve, but I am fine with it. I enjoy being around the children. You can have Pamela drop me off when she takes you, to spare me from walking over.”
Noelle agreed.
He turned toward her, his pale eyes shining. “Let’s not tell the others about my condition until after Christmas. I will call and tell them then.” He smiled a little. “Let’s have one last Family Christmas, our first with your Mamm gone and perhaps our last before I go, with no extra sadness or fussing over me.”
Noelle inhaled and then swallowed hard, feeling as if she couldn’t speak. She stared down at her snow boots as she exhaled. “Salome doesn’t think we should have it this year.”
“Well, we should.” Dat tugged on his nearly white beard. “This is my family. I want us to be together.”
“But we don’t have anywhere to meet together. LuAnne and I both tried to figure something out and haven’t been able to.”
“Let’s both ask the Lord to provide a place, then. And wait and see what happens.”
Pray? Jah. But wait? Noelle wasn’t sure if that was the best thing to do anymore. Perhaps she’d waited long enough for too many things already. But she had no idea what else she could do.
Wednesday morning, when it was obvious Moriah wasn’t coming to help, Noelle walked over to Salome’s again. This time it was not to try to solve the Family Christmas dilemma—jah, she was praying and trying to figure out what she could do—but to beg Moriah one more time to help her.
This time Ted answered the door. Moriah sat at the table, a mug in her hand. Thankfully she was dressed. That seemed to be a good sign.
Noelle stomped the snow from her boots and asked Moriah again for assistance. “I can’t do this alone,” she said.
Moriah stared for a moment.
“Are you doing anything else today?” Noelle asked.
Her niece shook her head.
“I think I can do really well with sales, if I have enough product. And I can’t come home on Thursday and Friday and mix up enough to bake and then sell the next day. Mixing up the dough and fillings today will give me a good head start, so tomorrow all I will have to do is bake. I need help.”
Moriah wrinkled her nose.
Ted nodded. “Noelle is right. She’s bringing in the money, but we can’t expect her to do it all by herself.”
Noelle wasn’t sure he’d defend her if Salome was in the room, but she was thankful for him speaking up. “And the truth is, I’m lonely baking by myself. It isn’t nearly as enjoyable as it would be with you. I miss you.” Working in the Kicha alone paled in comparison to baking with someone she loved.
Moriah sighed and then finally said, “I’ll come over when I’m done with breakfast.”
Noelle thanked her and left. She’d confess her jealousy to Moriah as soon as she arrived. It had been a long time coming.
Even though Noelle had been determined to speak with Moriah, she found herself full of fear. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of the first batch of half-moon pies already baking, the savory scent of the crusts mixing with the sweetness of the apples. As Noelle continued to try to work up her courage, Moriah said, “Thank you for insisting I come over today. I feel better working with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been—depressed. Much worse than after Eugene died even. This first-year anniversary has hit me really hard.” Moriah dumped vanilla into the sugar and butter mixture in the bowl for the creamstick filling and then began to mix it with a wooden spoon.
Noelle’s heart skipped a beat. Moriah had been under a lot of stress, but Noelle hadn’t been empathetic. Not at all. She reached for her niece’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry.”
Moriah’s eyes misted over. “Denki. I hope I can shake this.”
Noelle wanted to say “You will,” but she couldn’t know. “Come over whenever you can. And I’ll check in with you more.”
As she rolled the dough for more half-moon pies, her grip tightened on the handles of the rolling pin that had been worn smooth by years of use by Mamm. Noelle cleared her throat. “I need to speak with you about something, to apologize.”
Moriah gave her a questioning look.
Noelle put the rolling pin down and wiped her hands on her apron. “After Jesse left, when you
