As Luke crawled out of bed on Thanksgiving morning, a wave of nausea hit him with the force of a speeding horse. He groaned and clutched his stomach. They were supposed to have dinner at his brother Henry’s home, but the thought of eating all that Thanksgiving food made him feel even worse.
Another wave of nausea came, and Luke dashed into the bathroom just in time to empty his stomach. When he stepped out several minutes later, his stomach lurched again at the smoky odor of bacon coming from the kitchen. He felt light-headed, and his legs trembled so badly he could barely stand. He inched his way down the hall to the kitchen. “Have you got a bucket I can use?” he asked his mother, who was at the stove.
“What do you need a bucket for?” she asked over her shoulder. “I’m grank, and I don’t think my shaky legs will keep taking me to the bathroom.”
Mom whirled around. “Ach, Luke, you must be sick. Why, your face is paler than a bucket of goat’s milk!” She quickly pulled out a chair at the table. “You’d better sit down.”
He grasped the back of the chair and shook his head. “I—I just need a bucket so I can go back to my room.”
“I’ll get one right away.” Mom opened the door to the utility closet and handed Luke the bucket she used for mopping floors. “Do you think you’ve got the flu?”
Luke grimaced. “Sure looks like it. Either that or I’ve got a bad case of food poisoning. Even the thought of food makes my stomach churn.”
“I don’t think it could be food poisoning,” Mom said. “You ate the same thing your daed and I ate for supper last night, and neither of us feels sick.”
“John and I had lunch in town yesterday,” Luke said. “It could have been something I ate there.”
Mom slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Guess you won’t be up to going with us to Henry’s this afternoon.”
“No, I just want to go back to bed.” Another wave of dizziness hit Luke, and he closed his eyes.
“Your daed’s out in the barn right now.” Mom slipped her arm around Luke’s waist. “I’d better help you back to your room.”
Luke didn’t argue. He felt too weak to resist. Clinging to the bucket with one hand and holding onto Mom’s arm with the other, he made his way upstairs. There would be no turkey and pumpkin pie for him today. All he wanted to do was crawl back in bed and sleep until he felt better.
“If everything looks as good as it smells, I think we’re in for a real treat,” Ken said as everyone gathered around Grace and Cleon’s table.
“I’m glad you and Sharon could join us,” Grace said with a smile. “It’s always nice when family can be together for a special holiday.” She glanced over at Cleon. “I wish your folks could have joined us today, too, but by the time I invited them, your mamm had already planned a big Thanksgiving dinner and invited your brothers and sisters to join them.”
Cleon nodded. “I think she would have liked it if we could have been there, too, but we’d already made plans to have your family here.”
Grace knew Cleon wasn’t trying to make her feel guilty. He was just stating facts. She looked down the long table to where Abe sat with his children and smiled. Having them here would make the day go easier for Ruth. Last Thanksgiving, Martin had still been alive. Despite the fact that Ruth would soon be marrying Abe, Grace figured her widowed sister was probably feeling some sorrow and regret today.
“Now that everyone’s seated, let us bow for silent prayer,” Dad said.
All heads bowed, and Grace offered her private prayer. Heavenly Father, bless our family this day, bless the food we’re about to eat, and help us to remember to trust You as we face each new day. Amen.
Dear Lord, Martha silently prayed, bless this food, bless my family, and help me find out who’s responsible for the attacks that have been made against my family.
When she ended her prayer and looked at the faces around the table, a lump formed in her throat. If only things could be as peaceful and joyous every day as they are today. If only we no longer had to worry about being under attack.
“Martha, would you please get the potatoes going?” Mom asked when everyone had opened their eyes.
“Jah, sure.” Martha reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes and passed it to Sharon, who sat to her right.
“Danki.”
Martha’s mouth dropped open. “I’m impressed. You’ve only been here a couple of days, and already you know how we say thank you.”
“Rosemary taught us a few simple words on the drive here from Idaho,” Sharon explained.
“I’m surprised she remembered any German-Dutch,” Dad spoke up from his seat at the head of the table. “It’s been so long since she spoke our language.”
Aunt Rosemary’s cheeks turned pink. “I may not be able to speak it as fluently as I did when I was a girl, but the language of my youth has never left me.”
Martha shifted uneasily in her chair. Was Dad trying to embarrass Aunt Rosemary? If so, it made no sense; the two of them had made their peace several months ago.
As if sensing her discomfort, Dad leaned closer to Rosemary and said, “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you, sister. I was just surprised, that’s all.”
She smiled and patted his arm. “Pleasantly, I hope.”
He nodded. “You never cease to surprise me.”
Martha breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad things were still okay between Dad and Aunt Rosemary.
“Gemaeschde grummbiere.” Ruth said when Sharon handed the bowl of potatoes to her.
Sharon tipped her head. “What was that?”
Ruth pointed to the potatoes. “Gemaeschde grummbiere—mashed potatoes.”
Abe’s youngest daughter, Molly, who sat beside Ruth in a high chair, bobbed her head up and down. “Es bescht.”
Ruth nodded. “Jah, mashed potatoes are the best.”
Abe, sitting on the other side of Molly, spoke up. “If there’s one thing my little girl likes, it’s potatoes.”
“I like ‘em, too, Papa,” nine-year-old Esta said. “So does Owen and Josh.” She looked over at her older brother, Gideon, and frowned. “I ain’t so sure ‘bout him, though. Gideon don’t like much of anything these days.”
“It’s ‘I’m not’ not ‘I ain’t,’ Esta,” Abe said. “And let’s not get anything started between you and your bruder right now.”
“Argumentative kids—that’s one of the reasons my wife and I have decided not to have any children,” Ken said with a shake of his head. “I don’t think either of us has the patience for it.”
“Raising children isn’t just about dealing with arguments,” Mom said. “It’s a joy to watch your children grow up.” She patted Martha’s hand. “I wouldn’t trade being a mother for anything.”
A lump formed in Ruth’s throat. She had wanted to be a mother for such a long time, but the tragic accident that had claimed Martin’s life and left her unable to have any children of her own had ended those hopes. She glanced at Abe out of the corner of her eye and realized he was smiling at her. Thank You, Lord, for bringing this kind man into my life. Thank You for giving me the chance to be a mudder to Abe’s special kinner.
As the family continued to eat their Thanksgiving meal, they talked about the beautiful fall weather they’d been having, Martha’s dog venture, Cleon’s bee business, Dad’s woodworking shop, and Ruth’s upcoming wedding.
Finally, pushing his empty plate away from him, Dad announced, “Now that we’ve eaten such a good meal, I think we should take turns saying what we’re thankful for. I’ll get things started by going first.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m thankful we’re all in good health and able to be together today. God has walked by our side this past year, and I think our faith has been strengthened, despite the attacks against us.” He nodded at Mom. “Judith, why don’t you go next?”
Mom smiled and had just opened her mouth to speak, when—ka-boom!—an earth-shattering noise from outside rattled the windows.
Everyone jumped up and rushed out the door.
As they started down the driveway, Ruth saw smoke and flames shooting into the air.
“It’s my shop!” Dad hollered. “It’s been blown to bits!”