in Leah’s kitchen was a lively time, with the long table surrounded by cheerful faces—Leah, Sam, their children, her mamm and daad, and now her and Lige. Lige, sitting next to her, had been engrossed in looking from one to another during the meal, his small face gradually relaxing as he realized all the chatter was normal and accepted.
It had been normal when she was growing up, as well. It never would have occurred to any of her siblings that their contributions wouldn’t be welcome. But life with James, especially after his accident, had been another story entirely.
At least Lige was beginning to lose the tension that told her so clearly he was waiting for an explosion. He actually laughed at something one of his cousins said, and she breathed a silent prayer of thanks.
With the last crumb of apple crisp consumed and the silent prayer at the end of the meal said, the boys began getting up from the table to do their chores. Sam, who’d been saying something to Daad, glanced up as they headed out the door.
“Joshua.” He raised his voice to call his eldest back.
And Lige cringed, wincing back in his chair, his face strained and fearful.
No one moved. Rebecca could hear their indrawn breaths, could see the comprehension dawning on the faces of the adults. Rebecca bent over Lige, speaking softly.
“Hush now. It’s all right. Onkel Sam just wants to tell Joshua something.”
Leah seemed to get a grip on herself first. “Yah, he wants to tell Joshua to take Lige out with him and let him help. Ain’t so, Sam?”
“For sure,” Sam said.
Kindhearted Joshua came and squatted down by Lige’s seat. “Want to komm help me feed the buggy horses? You can measure the oats, yah?” He spoke softly, holding out his hand to Lige.
Lige looked up at her, as if asking for guidance.
“You’ll like that,” she said, flashing a glance of thanks to her nephew. “Go along with Joshua and the other boys now.”
Lige slid off his chair, probably glad to get out of the kitchen. He took Joshua’s hand, and they went off together.
At a look from Leah, Sam and Daad went out, too.
“You girls make a start on the dishes now,” she said. “I want to show your aunt Rebecca some of my quilts.”
“Yah, you go on,” Mamm added. “I’ll look after things here.”
Mamm was obviously trying hard to erase the shock from her face. Maybe she needed time as much as Rebecca did just now.
Leah ushered Rebecca into the sewing room and opened a trunk to reveal the quilts inside. “You don’t have to look at these now,” she said. “I just thought you might want a reason to be by yourself for a minute.”
“Denke,” she murmured, feeling the blood mounting to her cheeks. “It must wonder you why...”
Leah touched her hand. “You don’t need to explain anything. But when you do want to talk, I’m here and ready to listen.” Leah put her arms around her for a quick, strong embrace. “I’m your sister now, ain’t so?” she murmured.
It was a struggle to hold back tears. Maybe it would be a relief to talk, but not now, not when the emotions were still raw, even after months.
“I’ll check on the girls,” Leah said, seeming to understand. “You take as long as you want.” She slipped out quickly.
Alone, Rebecca slid down on the floor next to the trunk, her hand resting on the Sunshine and Shadows quilt that lay on top. Sunshine and Shadows, she repeated silently. There had been mostly shadows for so long. She longed to believe the sunshine was coming back to their lives.
As for talking about it...how could she tell anyone? Mamm and Daadi hadn’t wanted her to marry James so quickly, to go so far away with someone they barely knew. But she’d been captivated by James’s charm and his lively, daring personality.
She didn’t know then about the quick temper that seemed to be a part of him. It had flared rarely in the first years of their marriage, and each time it did, she’d made excuses for him.
And then had come the accident. James’s daring had led him a little too far, determined to climb to the top of the windmill to repair it, unwilling to wait for someone to come help him. And annoyed with her when she tried to stop him.
So she’d stood, watching, wondering what made him so eager to take risks. Then... Her memory winced away from the image of him falling, falling...
Everyone, even the doctors, said he was fortunate to be alive. That his injuries would heal, and he’d be himself again.
But he wasn’t. After the injury to his head, James seemed to lose all control. His rages were terrifying. If she dared try to calm him, he’d turn on her. Lige had become a little mouse, always afraid, trying so hard not to do anything to bring on the anger. And she hadn’t been much better.
Until the day he’d almost struck Lige with his fist. Then she had found the courage to fight back. When his family seemed unable to help, she’d dared to go to the bishop.
Bishop Paul had been everything that was kind. He’d insisted that James go for treatment, making all the arrangements himself. For a time, the treatment helped. The rages became a thing of the past, and it had seemed a blessing to be able to hope again.
Then it had all fallen apart. James had lost his temper with a half-trained horse, determined to force it to obey. The animal had reared, striking out, and in a moment, James was gone.
Rebecca pressed her fingers to her eyes, willing the images away. James was gone, but the damage he’d done lived on after him, it seemed.
No. She forced herself to stand, to wipe the tears from her face. That was the past. It was over and done with. She and Lige had a new start here, and they would make the best of it. But she would never again make the mistake of trusting a man with their lives.
When Daniel turned into the lane and drew the horse to a halt at the back door of Rebecca’s new house, the troubling thoughts about her returned in full force. Onkel Zeb, sitting next to him on the wagon seat, started to get down and then looked at him.
“Was ist letz? Is something wrong?”
“No, no.” He secured the lines and scolded himself for daydreaming. “It’s nothing. I can unload myself, if you have something else to do.” He’d appreciated the company on the trip to the hardware store and lumberyard for the materials he’d need for Rebecca’s job, but he didn’t want to keep his uncle working all day.
Onkel Zeb, as lean and tough as he always was, hopped down nimbly. “Nothing as interesting as this,” he said, heading for the back of the wagon. “I want to see what you and Rebecca are going to do to this place. Mason Evans let it go those last few years, that’s certain sure.”
“He didn’t seem to have much energy for
