Marta Perry
With all lowliness and meekness, with longsuffering, forbearing one another in love; Endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
—Ephesians 4:2–3
This story is dedicated, as always,
to the love of my life, my husband, Brian.
Contents
Note to Readers
Bethany Esch looked at her husband’s black jackets, hanging from the wooden pegs on the bedroom wall, and her heart failed her. She took a hasty step backward, bumping into the large box her cousin Lydia was carrying, and fought the panic that filled her.
Lydia dropped the box onto the double bed, catching Bethany’s arm when she would have fled from the room, her lively face sobering when she saw Bethany’s expression.
“Beth?” Lydia shook her arm lightly. “Komm now. It’s time we got busy.”
“No, I can’t. It’s too soon.”
Lydia knew her so well. Why didn’t she see that Bethany couldn’t get rid of James’s clothes? Not yet.
“It’s been over a month.” Lydia hugged her as if to soften the words, but nothing could really ease them. James was gone.
“I know it’s hard, but you’ll feel better once it’s done, and James’s things will be a blessing to someone else.”
The tears that came so easily filled Beth’s eyes. “It doesn’t feel like a month. It feels like yesterday.”
She lived it again—the township police officer coming to the door late in the evening, his face somber, his voice halting as he described the accident: the Englisch driver going too fast on the narrow road, young and careless, unable to stop when he saw the buggy light.
“I know.” Lydia’s hand stroked her back in a comforting gesture. “The accident was such a shock. That makes it much worse. But...”
Beth wiped tears away with her fingers. Lydia was right, she supposed. James’s death would be easier to face once she didn’t have constant reminders. Easier for Benjy, too, and that was the force that strengthened her spine. At four, Benjy didn’t understand, but he was beginning to accept the fact that Daadi wouldn’t be coming home anymore.
She could hear him now, giggling at something her niece Janie had said. Fourteen and the child of Beth’s oldest brother, Janie had been a treasure over the past month, showing up often to watch Benjy or take him to play with her little brothers and sister.
“Yah, okay.” She straightened, trying to find a smile. “You’re right. I certain sure can’t let Benjamin see me falling apart.”
“Gut.” Lydia gave a brisk nod of approval. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’re done. You hand things to me, and I’ll fold and pack.”
Taking the first jacket from its hook was the hardest. This was the
