friends wouldn’t allow that to happen. The money Josiah will earn at the shop will help cover the cost of running the farm, that’s all. I don’t want to be a burden to the others.”
Catherine’s face crumpled, showing emotion for the first time in a long time. Emma reached for her hand, but her sister quickly withdrew it. “The farm’s losing money?”
“The price of wheat is down.” Luke’s expression said he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “All our costs are up.”
The screen door slammed. A second later, Thomas rushed into the room. “Beg pardon for the interruption.” His gaze caught Emma’s, and his face turned red as a radish. He ducked his head. “We need to get the rest of your wheat in. The storm is close. An Englisch man from near Pottersville stopped by the produce stand. He said it’s been raining up there since yesterday.”
“Josiah, Mark, let’s go.” Luke stood. “Bring supper to the field this evening, Leah. We’ll stay out until we’re done or it storms—whichever comes first.”
His gaze traveled around the table, stopping at Emma. “Everything is fine.”
Emma forced herself to nod.
The men tromped from the room. Josiah trailed after them, his head down.
Fine was indeed a relative term.
Chapter 9
E mma hefted the cooler into the backseat of the buggy, then added the baskets. The men were having roast beef sandwiches for supper, along with fried potatoes, pickled cabbage, and thick oatmeal raisin cookies, her favorite. She and Leah had made enough to feed half the district since their uncles and cousins were helping bring in the wheat in hopes of beating the storm. A fat, wet drop of rain plopped on her face, telling her their efforts might be in vain. After Leah’s dire words at the dinner table, the thought made Emma’s heart beat faster. They needed this harvest.
Please, God, hold off the storm a little longer
.
She glanced up. A sky that had been partly cloudy only a few hours earlier when she hung sheets on the line had turned dark and threatening. The sheets made a
flap-flap
sound as a hot wind filled them like sails that billowed in white patches against a black horizon. She should’ve brought them in before she loaded the supper. Now they would have to wait. The men had been toiling in the field all afternoon. They needed to nourish their hungry, tired bodies.
She should let Leah or Catherine or Annie take the meal so she could finish the task she’d started. That would be the right thing to do. Still, she climbed into the buggy. Hanging clothes on the line only reminded her of her conversation with Carl. She didn’t want tothink about Carl and his wish to return to something long lost. Those thoughts only filled her with uncertainty.
Besides, Leah looked tired. And Annie was playing games with the twins and Leah’s boys, keeping them from being underfoot. Emma should deliver the food. Maybe she would see Thomas.
Stop being silly
. She hated that Annie had planted that seed. Thomas hadn’t spoken two consecutive words to her since the day Luke moved his family into the house. If Carl suffered from an endless medley of words, Thomas practiced frugality with his. Not that one had anything to do with the other.
The image of Thomas’s long, tanned fingers shoving his straw hat back to reveal a sunburned face in the kitchen earlier in the day popped into Emma’s head. Despite herself, she let the image linger. His big, callused hands were gentle every time he lifted his daughter into their buggy after prayer service. Emma had seen his hands at work hundreds of times. Why did the thought of those hands send a shiver through her now?
“Giddyup, come on, Carmel, let’s go.” Irritated with her own thoughts, Emma shook the reins. Silliness. Pure silliness. Thomas was still Thomas. Nine years older and a lifetime wiser. The horse snorted and took off at a brisk trot. Emma vowed to deliver the food and make a speedy exit. Plenty of work waited for
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