turned on the tap.
She got up and came to stand beside him. “That looks deep.”
“It’s not bad.”
Lavina poked in a kitchen cupboard and brought over a first aid kit. “You don’t want to risk infection.” She set it down on the kitchen counter beside the sink. “See that he takes care of it,” she told Mary Elizabeth. “I’m going to go change.”
“No need to fuss,” he told Mary Elizabeth. “I know to be careful. We get minor cuts on the construction job site all the time.”
She snapped open the lid on the kit. “It’s not fussing.”
He soaped the cut, wincing as it stung, then ran water over it until the suds ran down the sink and the cut stopped bleeding. She handed him a paper towel to dry his hand and then squirted a line of antibacterial ointment on the cut and wrapped it with gauze.
“There,” she said, taping the gauze to hold it in place. “But how are you going to keep it clean and dry out in the fields?” she asked, tilting her head to one side to study his hand. “Hmmm.”
Then her expression brightened. She reached into a cupboard and pulled out some plastic gloves. “Here, wear this over it while you’re working.”
He started to object but she was right—no point in cleaning and bandaging the cut and then going out and exposing it to more dirt and manure in the fields.
“Thanks,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
“Wilkumm.” She busied herself putting the gauze and ointment back into the first aid kit and snapped it shut.
The sound seemed loud in the quiet kitchen.
Sam stood there awkwardly. He’d returned home for Christmas and had had to tell her that it was temporary, that he wasn’t back to stay like David.
He’d never forget seeing the hurt he caused. Tears had welled up in her eyes, and she’d rushed from the room. He hadn’t seen her again until David asked for his help with the spring planting today.
And he’d walked into the kitchen and there she sat talking with Lavina. The hurt was still there in her eyes . . . Mary Elizabeth had always been more assertive, more outspoken than her schweschders. So he wasn’t surprised when she’d stayed after Lavina left the room to change, obviously giving them some time alone.
He turned to leave.
“Sam?”
“Ya?” He regarded her warily.
“I want to talk to you.”
He glanced out the window. David and John were still working in the fields, more quickly now. “Now’s not a gut time. We’re trying to finish before it rains.”
A rumble of thunder sounded overhead as if to confirm what he said. Her gaze shifted to the view out the kitchen window. Clouds scudded overhead.
“Allrecht,” she said. “After supper.”
It was a statement not a question. Ordinarily he might not have liked that but he figured he owed her that.
“After supper. I’ll give you a ride home.” He left and walked back to the fields. David agreed to give John a lift home when Sam explained he needed to talk to Mary Elizabeth.
Farming was hard work. He didn’t mind hard work, but it was difficult to be here doing what he loved when he now had to work in town. And working on a Saturday wasn’t his idea of fun. A guy liked to have a weekend off once in a while. During the week he worked construction building new homes, so he was tired and ready to relax by Saturday.
David hadn’t asked for his help. But Sam knew he needed the help and what were bruders for? He hadn’t looked forward to seeing his dat again even after David had said he’d changed a lot. He’d seen that he seemed different Christmas night but couldn’t help being cynical. Could any man change that much? And could it last?
He and his dat were wary of each other. They’d barely spoken since he started helping David when spring planting began. It helped that Amos still tired easily after he’d been told he was in remission. He often had to go into the house to rest so they didn’t have to spend too much time in the fields together. The two of them hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to talk.
Today, Amos hadn’t been out in the fields long and had done little more than supervise. And share his opinion about how things were being done.
Over and over.
David was taking it very well. He had a lot more patience with the old man than Sam did that was for schur.
Rain began falling an hour later. Resigned, they led the horses back to the barn, unhitched the plow, and fed and watered the stock.
The workday was shorter than usual, but Sam and his bruders had worked hard and the three of them headed in to supper, running when it began to pour. They pounded up the steps to the porch. John was the first.
“You old men can’t keep up!” he teased and laughed and elbowed them as they tried to enter the house at the same time.
“Here come the rowdy Stoltzfus bruders,” Lavina remarked dryly.
David grinned and advanced on her, shaking raindrops on her. She swatted at him with a kitchen towel, her cheeks reddening as she warned him to behave.
“Boys will be boys,” Waneta said, watching her sohns with a fond eye. “Go wash up.”
They jostled each other a bit more just for form, but after they washed up, they settled into their chairs at the table and were on their best behavior. It might be David’s haus now, but Amos had walked into the room and sat there at the table, watching Sam with what he felt was a critical eye. If he looked at John that way Sam didn’t notice, but John looked unconcerned.
As soon as the meal was blessed John busied himself filling his plate. He handed Sam the bowl of potato salad. Sam served himself several big spoons of it. As he passed the bowl to David he saw the pies sitting on the counter. Well, well . . . he was tired and sweaty and his muscles ached.
But there was pie for dessert.
Since there was a big bowl of ripe peaches sitting near them, he had a suspicion what kind his sister-in-law had made. And she had a fine hand with baking pies.
There was little conversation as the men of the family ate hungrily.
Sam polished off two helpings of the potato salad, a couple of rolls, and a piece of pie. Not to forget several glasses of iced tea that finally cooled him off.
Once or twice, he caught Mary Elizabeth watching him, her expression unreadable. But as much as she guarded her expression he’d guessed from the way she’d told him she wanted to speak to him that it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
So he had to admit to himself that he lingered over a second piece of pie and yet another glass of iced tea. He wasn’t in a hurry to talk to her.
“Gut pie,” Amos said, and Lavina beamed at him.
“Not
