Before anyone could respond, Becky cut in. “You don’t have to go back to the hospital anymore, right, Daadi? So we can get along like always.”
Zeb’s face tightened a little, and he glanced at Caleb as if expecting him to correct Becky for rudeness. But if Caleb caught the look, he ignored it. “I’ll have to go for just a few hours each week. It’s what they call physical therapy, when they help me do exercises to get my leg working right again.”
Becky’s lips drew down in a pout that reminded Jessie of her mother. “I thought you were done.”
“The therapy will help your daadi get rid of that heavy cast and out of the chair,” Daniel said, flicking her cheek with his finger. “You wouldn’t want him to skip that, ain’t so?”
Becky shrugged. “I guess not. But only for a little while, right?”
It wasn’t surprising that Becky wanted reassurance that her father would be home to stay. She’d certainly had enough upheaval in her young life.
“Don’t worry,” Caleb said. “We’ll soon be back to normal. I promise.”
Jessie rose to refill the bowl with pot pie. Caleb glanced her way at the movement, and his intent look was like a harsh word. She knew what he meant by normal. He meant without her.
* * *
By the time the uncomfortable meal was over, Jessie was glad to have the kitchen to herself while she washed the dishes, though a little surprised that Becky didn’t insist on taking over that job, too. The little girl certainly seemed determined to convince everyone that Jessie was unnecessary.
Jessie took her time over the cleaning up, half listening to the murmur of voices from the living room. It sounded as if Caleb was playing a board game with the young ones, and Daniel was helping Timothy keep up with his big sister. The play was punctuated now and then by laughter, and the sound warmed Jessie’s heart. Obviously everyone was as glad to have Caleb home as he was to be here.
She was just hanging up the dish towels to dry when Daniel and the children came back in the kitchen and started putting on jackets. “Going someplace?” she asked.
Daniel nodded. “These two like to tell the horses good-night. Timothy says it makes the horses sleep better.”
“It does,” Timothy declared. “Honest.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Jessie said. “Do you take them a treat?”
“Carrots,” he said, running to the bin in the pantry and coming back with a handful.
“Share with Becky,” Daniel prompted, and Timothy handed her a few, obviously trying to keep the lion’s share.
Jessie had to smile. “Your mammi used to do that when she was your age,” she said.
Timothy looked at her with a question in his eyes, but Caleb spoke from the doorway.
“Best get going. It’s almost time for bed.”
“Komm, schnell. You heard Daadi.” Daniel shooed them out, and the door closed behind them.
“Don’t talk about their mother to my children.” Caleb’s voice grated, and he turned the chair toward her with an abrupt shove from his strong hands that sent it surging across the wide floor boards.
For a moment Jessie could do nothing but stare at him. “I only said that—”
His face darkened. “I know what you said, but I don’t want her mentioned. I’m their father, and I will tell them what they need to know about her.”
Her thoughts were bursting with objections, but Jessie kept herself from voicing them. “I didn’t mean any harm, Caleb. Isn’t it better that they hear people speak about Alice naturally?”
The lines in his face deepened, and Jessie felt a pang of regret for the loss of the laughing, open person he’d once been.
“I won’t discuss it. You’ll have to do as I see fit during your visit.”
He’d managed to avoid speaking Alice’s name thus far, and that should have been a warning in itself. Arguing would do no good.
“Whatever you say. I’m just here to help in any way I can.”
Some of the tension seemed to drain out of Caleb, but not much. She suspected there was more to come, and suspected, too, that she wasn’t going to like it.
“Since you’re here, you may as well visit with the kinder for a few days.” Instead of looking at her, he focused on the National Parks calendar tacked to the kitchen wall. “I’ll arrange for you to take the bus back to Ohio on Friday.”
“Friday? You mean this Friday? Two days from now?” She hadn’t expected this to be easy, but she also hadn’t anticipated being turned away so quickly.
Caleb gave a short nod, still not meeting her eyes. He swung the chair away from her as if to dismiss her.
Without thinking, Jessie reached out to stop him, grabbing his arm. His muscles felt like ropes under her hand, and the heat of his skin seared through the cotton of his sleeve. She let go as if she’d touched a hot pan.
“Please, Caleb. I came to help out while you’re laid up. Obviously you need a woman here, and your uncle mentioned that the person who had been helping couldn’t any longer. Please let me fill in.”
A muscle twitched in Caleb’s jaw as if he fought to contain himself. “We’ll get along fine. We don’t need your help.”
He sounded like Becky. And arguing with him would do about as much good as arguing with a six-year-old.
Would it help or hurt if she showed him the letter Alice had written a few days before she died, asking Jessie to do what she could for the kinder? While she struggled for an answer, he swung away again and wheeled himself toward the door.
“Friday,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ll be on Friday’s bus.”
Jessie lingered in the kitchen until Daniel and the kinder returned. Becky and Timothy ran straight to the living room, as if they couldn’t bear to be parted from their daadi for more than a few minutes. Daniel, with what she thought might have been a sympathetic glance at her, followed them.
She stood, irresolute, watching the red glow in the western sky over the ridge. It turned slowly to pink, fading as dusk crept into the valley. She wasn’t used to being surrounded by hills this way. Her area of Ohio was fairly flat—good farmland. These enclosing ridges seemed to cut her off from everything she knew.
Caleb made good use of the land on the valley floor, and his dairy herd of forty head was apparently considered fairly large here. Where the ground started to slope upward toward the ridge, she’d spotted an orchard, with some of the trees already in blossom. Too bad she wouldn’t be here to see the fruit begin to form. Caleb would see to that.
She turned abruptly toward the living room. Best make what use she could of the little time he seemed willing to grant her with the kinder. As she entered, she heard Becky’s plaintive voice.
“But isn’t Daadi going to help us get ready for bed?” She stood in front of her father’s wheelchair, and her look of dismay was echoed by the one on Caleb’s face.
“Ach, Becky, you know Daadi won’t be able to go upstairs for a bit,” Zeb gently chided her. “That’s why we fixed up the room downstairs for him.”
“I’m sorry.” Caleb cupped his