They said their good-byes and gathered the children to head home. Sofie had started to fall asleep on Forsythia’s shoulder and fussed when transferred to the wagon. Robbie, meanwhile, was not pleased at being removed from his new friends. Between the older two and a hungry baby, it made for a rather fractious ride home.
They had a simple cold dinner, since their main meal would be supper today, and then the children napped. By the time they piled back into the wagon to head for the Caldwells’, everyone seemed more chipper again.
The evening summer sun still shone when they pulled up at the Caldwells’ homestead a short ways out of town.
“A real frame house,” Lilac marveled, climbing out of the wagon. “Lark, think we’ll have one like this someday?”
“I hope so.”
Del and Forsythia collected the children, smoothing Sofie’s dress and straightening Robbie’s collar, then together they climbed the steps—real wooden steps. Forsythia admired the simple porch with a rocking chair and porch swing. How lovely it must be to sit out here on summer nights to catch a breeze or watch the stars.
Mrs. Caldwell opened the door before they even knocked, beckoning them in. “Welcome, welcome.”
Forsythia stepped inside, leading Robbie by the hand, and gazed with hungry eyes about her. Braided rugs, kerosene lamps, framed pictures on the walls, comfortable furniture. Scents savory and sweet wafting from the kitchen, and Mrs. Caldwell’s motherly voice. A home—that was what this was. An unexpected lump tightened Forsythia’s throat. It felt so long, compared to the actual time since they left home.
Robbie stared speechless at the spread when they all sat down at the supper table. Forsythia felt almost the same. Crisp fried chicken, new potatoes, tiny pole beans from the Caldwells’ garden. Even lettuce in a salad with sugar, vinegar, and cream dressing. They must have gotten their garden in early.
Mr. Caldwell prayed. “Father, we thank thee for this food from thy hand, and for new friends and a new life in this land. Bless this evening and our fellowship together. In the name of Jesus, amen.”
Forsythia blinked back tears before lifting her head. They hadn’t known a homey welcome like this since the Herrons. Heavenly Father, you knew how much we needed this.
“I hope our beans will produce before frost. We got them planted yesterday.” Lark speared a forkful reverently. “This looks heavenly.”
“Make sure you soak the ground and seeds really well,” Mrs. Caldwell counseled. “They’ll sprout faster that way.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Lark answered. “Thanks for the good advice. I’ll water it well tomorrow and keep it damp.”
Conversation flowed easily, as if they’d known the Caldwells for years. After supper, Forsythia sat in the sitting room—on an upholstered sofa, luxury of luxuries—to cradle a sleeping Mikael and watch Sofie and Robbie play.
“Rests the soul, doesn’t it?” Mrs. Caldwell entered and sat beside her. “Watching a sleeping baby.”
“Would you like to hold him?”
“You don’t mind?” Her eyes held an unexpected vulnerability.
Forsythia transferred Mikael’s sleepy weight to the other woman’s arms.
“I’ve always loved little ones.” Mrs. Caldwell brushed a gentle hand over Mikael’s growing hair. “We couldn’t have any of our own, you know.”
“I didn’t know.” One never knew the heartaches behind others’ smiling faces.
“I gave that dream to the Lord long ago. But now and then He gives me the gift of loving other people’s children.” Mrs. Caldwell looked up at Forsythia with eyes whose kindness reminded her more of Ma than anyone she’d met in years. “As it seems He has given you.”
“I sometimes feel very inadequate for it.” Forsythia folded her hands in her skirt.
“Well, that’s a good sign you’re not depending on your own strength, then.” Mrs. Caldwell rocked Mikael gently. “But perhaps you won’t always carry this burden alone? My Henry said something to me of his friend the doctor . . .”
“Oh.” Forsythia’s face warmed. “I don’t—that is, there is no understanding.”
“Would you like there to be?”
Their hostess could be direct as well as kind. “I—I might. But I don’t think he does, not anymore.”
Mrs. Caldwell sat silently a moment. “I’m sorry, dear one. But be sure of what he thinks before you assume. Sometimes things just need to be talked through a bit.”
Perhaps she was right. But it took two to be willing to talk.
A sudden eruption from the children claimed Forsythia’s attention as Robbie tugged a wooden train Jesse had carved away from Sofie. Sofie slapped him, then burst into tears.
Forsythia hurried to separate them, lifting the sobbing little girl to her hip. “What’s the matter with you today?”
Sofie coughed and rubbed her nose, eyes streaming.
“I’m afraid she might be coming down with a cold. We’d better get her home. I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for.” Mrs. Caldwell rose. “Let me tell the rest of your family for you.”
“Thank you. Robbie, pick up your train. It’s time to go.”
Sofie fell asleep on Forsythia’s lap on the drive home, but the heaviness of her breathing was worrying. The little girl barely woke when they got back to the homestead, undressed her, and tucked her under the covers.
“I don’t like the sound of her lungs,” Forsythia whispered to Lark, covering the little girl with a blanket. “And she feels feverish. This came on so suddenly. Or else I just haven’t been paying close enough attention.” Had she been so preoccupied with her own problems that she’d neglected this little one entrusted to her? Guilt smote hard.
“Things do come on suddenly in children. It’s not your fault, Sythia.” Lark squeezed her shoulder. “Get some sleep yourself. She’ll probably be better in the morning.”
Lark headed out to the wagon, where she still slept until they could add on to the soddy. Forsythia lay down next to Sofie so she would hear her in the night. She laid a hand on the small back, feeling the gentle rise and fall. Only a slight wheezing now. Hopefully Lark was right, and Sofie would just sleep off whatever this was. Please, Lord.
A barking cough woke Forsythia sometime later. She
