It was his own fault for coming without calling first, and she wasn’t remotely embarrassed at his seeing her that way. Was she?
When she’d finally gotten to sleep it must have been nearly dawn. Odd that she couldn’t even remember the dreams from which she’d awakened shaking. She’d just had a sense of running, stumbling, sensing something chasing her, something terrible that was growing closer with every step.
Lainey turned away from the dresser and smoothed the handmade quilt over the bed, comforted at the touch. It was the same quilt that had been on her bed when she was ten. Sunshine and Shadows, the pattern was called, and Aunt Rebecca had said it was hers—that she’d made it for her.
Mom had insisted she leave it behind when she’d picked up Lainey to cart her off to another fresh start. They didn’t have room for it, she’d said.
But Aunt Rebecca had kept it where it belonged. Lainey remembered kneeling beside it, the hooked rug knobby under her skinny knees, saying prayers with Aunt Rebecca, and her great-aunt’s hands tucking her into bed.
She’d declared from the superior height of ten years that she was too old to be read to when Aunt Rebecca made the offer.
“You can read to me, then, ain’t so?” Rebecca had replied. She’d sat next to her, a book between them, listening while Lainey read aloud, showing every sign of pleasure in hearing the story. They’d read their way through three of the Little House books that summer. She glanced at the row of books on the bookshelf under the window.
Lainey’s hand lingered on the quilt. She’d felt so safe, going to sleep in this room to the soft sound of Aunt Rebecca’s and Uncle Isaac’s voices drifting up the stairs from the living room. No quarrels, no crying or shouting, just soft-voiced conversation in the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect Lainey hadn’t understood. Maybe you didn’t need to understand a language to hear love in it.
Pulling herself out of the memories, Lainey headed down the stairs. Then, moved by an impulse she couldn’t explain, she went back and took out the first of the Little House books. Silly, maybe, but if she read to Aunt Rebecca, perhaps at some level she would hear and be comforted.
What would Jake think of her, carting a children’s book to Rebecca’s bedside? He’d never know, and she didn’t care what he thought, anyway.
She went downstairs. Her tapestry bag hung from a hook in the back hallway, and she tucked the book inside. She probably should make a list and stop by the grocery store on her way back from the hospital. And maybe pick up some flowers on her way there...
List-making fled from her mind when movement in the driveway along the side of the house caught her eye. An Amish buggy rolled to a halt at the hitching rail by the back porch. Her stomach clenched when she saw the man who held the reins. Zeb Stoltzfus looked as stern and unbending as he had yesterday at the hospital.
She smoothed her palms down the flaring print skirt, glad he hadn’t been the one to come to the door before she was dressed. If he was here to renew his argument, he might as well just leave. Nobody was going to force her into a decision she wasn’t ready to make.
Zeb approached the door, followed by two other dark-garbed figures. Pushing away the thought that they were ganging up on her, Lainey went to greet them.
“Good morning.” She stood holding the door, not at all sure she wanted to welcome him inside if he’d come to argue.
Zeb gave a curt nod, his graying beard looking a bit unkempt in the breeze. “I have brought two of my grandchildren to meet you. Ella has a basket for you.”
The young woman behind him stepped toward the door, smiling shyly, and held out a covered basket. “Just some beef stew for your supper. And a shoofly pie. My mamm thought you wouldn’t have time to cook, running back and forth to the hospital so much, ain’t so?”
The smile and the gesture disarmed Lainey. “How kind of her, and of you.” She swung the door wide. “Please, come in.”
The girl...Ella, he’d said, went straight to the kitchen and set the basket on the counter as if this were familiar territory. Zeb followed her, and the third member of the little party trailed in his wake. The boy must be about fourteen or fifteen, lanky as boys that age often were. He darted what seemed a wary glance at her and then lowered his gaze to his shoes.
Lainey hesitated, not sure whether to hold out her hand to him or not. She settled for a friendly smile. “I’m Lainey. What’s your name?”
The boy’s blue eyes held a hint of panic, and he glanced toward his grandfather.
“Answer your cousin,” Zeb said sharply.
“Thomas,” he muttered, a flush mounting to his straw-colored hair. Even the tips of his ears turned red. “I’m Thomas.”
She shouldn’t have singled him out, obviously, so she just nodded and turned to the counter, lifting the tea towel from it to reveal the crumbly top of the shoofly pie perched on a covered casserole dish.
“It looks wonderful. Thank you.”
Ella had removed her black bonnet and sweater, revealing a pert round face and a pair of sparkling blue eyes. She, at least, didn’t seem intimidated by her grandfather.
“Ach, we know what it’s like when someone’s in the hospital. You don’t want to be eating that cafeteria food, ain’t so?” Ella seemed to be taking it for granted that she’d spend the day at the hospital. “Mamm and I stopped by to see Aunt Rebecca yesterday, but it was after you’d left.”
“Sorry I wasn’t there to speak to you.” She felt obscurely guilty. “I was so tired after the flight and then driving from Pittsburgh that I went to bed early.”
“Ach, it’s a long trip. I went to a wedding last year out in Indiana, and I thought we’d never get there.” Her cheerful face lit with the reminder. “I met lots of new cousins out there.”
Ella was probably a couple of years older than her brother, so she wouldn’t have been born yet the summer Lainey spent here. The fact made her feel old.
Aunt Rebecca had never let anyone come in her house without offering food and drink, but Lainey had finished the coffee Jake made earlier.
“Would you like to have a piece of the shoofly pie? I could make a pot of coffee.” At least she hoped she could.
Ella looked about to agree, but Zeb got in first. “No. Denke,” he added. “You will need to leave for the hospital. I chust wanted to stop.” He paused, and she imagined that there was a struggle going on behind the thin, leathery face. “I spoke too hasty yesterday. Rebecca picked you. She must have had a reason.” He sounded as if he couldn’t imagine what that reason might be.
She tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound antagonistic. “It might have been a good idea for Aunt Rebecca to talk it over with me first.”
“Ja.” He seized on that idea. “Then you could have explained that it would be too hard with you living in St. Louis and all.”
He was jumping to the conclusion that she’d have turned down the power of attorney if she’d known, and that wasn’t really what she’d meant. Still, at least he wasn’t glaring at her today, and she had to admit that was a step in the right direction.
“In any event, she did choose me, so I’ll have to go from there.” She kept her tone pleasant but, she hoped, firm.
Zeb stiffened. “You mean you are going ahead with this? Even knowing nothing at all about Rebecca’s way of living and her property?”
“She must have thought I knew enough.” If people would stop pushing