back into a knot under a snowy kapp. She had on a dark green dress with an apron to match that made her hazel eyes look green. The woman wasn’t one of the neighbors or someone from the church. It was Jessie Miller, cousin of the wife who’d left him, and the last person he wanted to find in his kitchen.
For a long moment they stared at each other. Jessie’s oval face might have been a bit paler than normal, but if she was uncomfortable, she was trying not to show it. Caleb’s jaw hardened until it felt it might break. Jessie had offered her assistance once before, just after Alice left, and he’d turned her down in no uncertain terms. What made her think she could expect a wilkom now?
“Caleb.” Jessie nodded gravely. “I’m sehr glad to see you home again.”
He could hardly say that he was happy to see her, but a warning look from Onkel Zeb reminded him that the kinder were looking on. “Yah, it’s wonderful gut to be here.” Becky pressed close to the chair, and he put his arm around her. “What are you...how did you get here?” And why have you komm?
“Jessie took the bus and got a ride out from town.” Zeb sounded determined to fill up the silence with words, probably because he was afraid of what Caleb might say. “It’ll be wonderful nice for the kinder to get to know Cousin Jessie, ain’t so?”
Caleb frowned at his uncle, unable to agree. He supposed, if he were being fair, that Alice’s family deserved some chance to get to know her children, but not now, not like this.
Before he could speak, Zeb had seized the handles of the chair. “I’ll show you the room we fixed up for you so you could be on this floor. Becky, you and Timothy give Cousin Jessie a hand with setting the table for supper. Daadi must be hungry, and Onkel Daniel will be in soon.”
Becky let go of Caleb reluctantly and went to the drawer for silverware. Timothy raced to get there first, yanking so hard the drawer would have fallen out if Jessie hadn’t grabbed it.
“Ach, you’re a strong boy,” she said, a bit of laughter in the words. “Best let Becky hand you the things, ain’t so?” She smiled at Becky, but his daughter just set her lips together and proceeded with the job. Even at her young age, Becky had a mind of her own.
Zeb pushed Caleb’s chair to the back room that had been intended as a sewing room for Alice. The hospital bed looked out of place, but Caleb knew it would be easier to get into and out of than a regular bed.
Once they were inside, Caleb reached back to pull the door closed so no one could overhear. He swung to face his uncle.
“What is she doing here?” he demanded.
Onkel Zeb shrugged, spreading his hands wide. “She just showed up. Seems like word got to Ohio about your getting hurt, and Jessie said she thought she was needed.”
“Well, she’s not.” Caleb clamped down on the words. “We’ll do fine without her, so she can just take tomorrow’s bus right back again.”
“Ach, Caleb, you can’t do that.” His uncle’s lean, weathered face grew serious. “Stop and think. What would folks think if you turned your wife’s kin out of the house? What would the bishop and ministers say?”
“I don’t want her here.” He spun the chair to stare, unseeing, out the window. “I don’t need any reminders of what Alice did.”
“What Alice did, not Jessie,” Zeb reminded him. “It’s not Jessie’s fault. She wants only to help, maybe thinking she can make up a little for what her cousin did.”
“She can’t.” He bit out the words. It was easy telling himself that he had to forgive Alice. It wasn’t easy to do it.
“Even so, you’ll have to agree to let her stay for a short visit, at least.” His uncle pulled the chair back around to give Caleb the look that said he meant business. “I’ll not have you hurting the woman for someone else’s wrongdoing.”
Onkel Zeb hadn’t often given orders to Caleb and his brothers, even though he’d shared the raising of them. But when he did, they listened.
Caleb clenched his jaw, but he nodded. “All right. A short visit—that’s all. Then Jessie has to go.”
* * *
With Caleb out of the room, Jessie discovered that she could breathe again. She hadn’t realized how hard this would be.
Caleb had changed over the years, just as she had. She’d first seen him on the day he’d met her cousin, and a lot of years had passed since then. His hair and beard were still the color of a russet apple, and his cheeks were ruddy despite his time in the hospital.
But the blue eyes that had once been wide and enthusiastic seemed frosty now, and lines etched their way across his face. Lines of pain, probably, but maybe also of grief and bitterness. Who could wonder at that, after what Alice had put him through?
Guilt grabbed her at the thought of the cousin who had been like her own little sister. She’d been meant to take care of Alice, but she’d failed.
A clatter of plates brought her back to the present with a jolt, and she hurried to the kinder. “Let me give you a hand with those,” she said, reaching for the precarious stack Becky was balancing.
“I can do it myself.” Becky jerked the plates away so quickly they almost slid onto the floor. She managed to get them to the round pine table and plopped them down with a clank. “I don’t need help.” She shot Jessie an unfriendly look.
Had Becky picked up her father’s attitude already? Or maybe she saw herself as the mother of the little family now that Alice was gone. Either way, Jessie supposed she’d best take care what she said.
“We can all use a bit of help now and then,” she said easily. “I’m not sure where there’s a bowl for the chicken pot pie. Can you help me with that?”
Timothy ran to one of the lower cabinets and pulled the door open. “This one,” he announced, pointing to a big earthenware bowl. “That’s the one for chicken pot pie. Ain’t so, Becky?”
He looked for approval to his big sister, and when she nodded, he gave Jessie an engaging grin. “See?”
“I do see. That’s just right, Timothy. Do you like chicken pot pie?”
Still smiling, he nodded vigorously. “And cherry pie, too.” He glanced toward the pie she’d left cooling on the counter.
Jessie took the bowl, smiling in return at the irresistible little face. Timothy, at least, was friendly. Probably he wasn’t old enough to remember much about his mother, so her leaving and her death hadn’t affected him as much as Becky.
She began ladling out the fragrant mix of chicken and homemade noodles. The men would doubtless be back and hungry before long. Even as she thought it, Jessie heard the door of Caleb’s room open and the murmur of voices.
“Let’s get those hands washed for supper,” she told Timothy. “I hear Daadi coming.” She reached out to turn on the water in the sink, but Becky pushed her way between Jessie and her brother.
“I’ll do it.” She frowned at Jessie. “He’s my little bruder.”
Jessie opened her mouth, found herself with nothing
