Over the following week, Elijah kept himself busy by reading the Bible and praying continuously for Catherine, as well as for direction for his life. He had no idea how long he would stay at the cabin. He didn’t want to wear out his welcome even though he hadn’t seen the red-haired man again.
Rain had melted the snow, and with the yard mostly muddy, he was careful not to push Pickles too hard for fear the animal would stumble on the slippery soil and injure himself. But limiting the horse’s training meant Elijah had too much time on his hands. He’d replaced the missing slats in the barn siding and walked the fence line yesterday, inspecting it for needed repairs. Now, sitting inside the cabin, idly watching drizzly raindrops make rings in the puddles outside the window, his mind conjured up an image of Catherine smiling, and for a split second, he heard her laughter. Tears brimmed his lids, and he swiped them away. She’s gone.
Elijah shot up from the chair. This is crippling. He had to do something. He shoved on his boots, snatched his coat from the hook, and put it on as he walked to the equipment shed. Hard work had always been therapeutic. Who cared if it was raining.
After finding a hoe, rake, and wheelbarrow in the shed, he crossed the yard to a spot that had good sun and would make a good place for a garden. He swung the hoe with all his might, taking out his pent-up anger over missing Catherine on the soil. As he turned over the ground, rainwater mixed with tears spilled into the trenches. By the time exhaustion set in, he’d cleared a larger area than he originally intended. He hoped the cabin owner would be all right with what he’d done. He should have asked permission.
Elijah gathered the dead leaves and the weeds he’d pulled, and placed them in the wheelbarrow. As he emptied the last load on the compost pile, the sun had completely faded. Dirty, exhausted, and aching all over, he decided it was too late to make supper with the bishop’s family. He wasn’t hungry. Besides, he wouldn’t be much company anyway.
He washed up at the sink, then put the kettle on the stove for coffee. Maybe later he’d fry an egg or two if he felt hungry. He’d been blessed by the members in the district with quart-sized jars of milk and fresh eggs every day. The women had also spoiled him with pies and cookies.
When the coffee was ready, he poured a mug, then fished out a tasty treat from the cookie jar. The first bite of sweetness awakened his stomach; it growled for more. Elijah removed a frying pan from the cabinet, and as he tapped an egg against the countertop, someone knocked on the back door. Startled by the knock, he somehow crushed the egg. Yolk drippings went down the front of the cabinet and splattered on the floor.
He toweled his hands as he went to answer the door. With the visitor holding a lantern down at his side, it was difficult to make out who was standing on the stoop.
“Guder evening, Elijah.”
His jaw went slack. He recognized Zach’s voice before his eyes had a chance to adjust to the darkness.
Zach lifted the lantern higher in one hand while drawing his attention to the plate covered with foil in his other. “The bishop’s fraa wanted me to bring you this. She thought you might be hungry. You never made it to supper.”
“Jah, time got away with me—what are you doing here?”
“You gonna invite me in?”
Elijah opened the door wider. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be impolite. I wasn’t expecting—”
“Me. You weren’t expecting me.”
Zach’s controlled tone and probing stare caught Elijah off guard. It wasn’t until his friend gave the plate of food a deliberate thrust against his chest that Elijah sensed Zach’s wrath. Behind his friend’s tight-lipped smile, he was clenching his teeth.
“Have a seat. I’ll pour us some kaffi.” Elijah turned his back to him and placed the plate of food on the table. “When did you get into town?”
“A few hours ago.”
Elijah removed a mug from the cabinet. “I sent word to George that there hasn’t been any news about Catherine.”
“Your letter said nett to kumm until after spring. Something about waiting until after the river thawed.”
“Jah, that happened a while ago.” Needing something to occupy himself with as the coffee reheated, Elijah cleaned up the mess he’d made cracking the egg. Lord, Zach has traveled a long way for a reason. Please, give me the right words.
Julie still hadn’t seen Dr. Wellington—or the redheaded hired hand—and she’d been on the ranch for two days. Cynthia had hinted at Dr. Wellington’s aloofness as Julie washed down the breakfast table. “Don’t take it personally. This isn’t a good time of the year for Doc. He usually holes up in his office or takes long walks alone. We don’t bother him, and he usually snaps out of it in a few days.”
Does Amy know about his odd behavior? Her friend had called both of the days she’d been staying on the ranch, but Amy’s work schedule was such that she didn’t have a day off until Sunday, on which she promised to spend some time with her.
Julie filled the sink with hot water and swished her hand, causing dish detergent bubbles to foam on the surface. She didn’t have many dishes to wash; the day camp children had yet to arrive. Julie had learned from Cynthia how over the years the number of campers had dwindled. Between insurance hikes and the costly updates needed to stay in compliance with state regulations, tuition was increased to offset the operational costs. For some of the out-of-state groups, it was no longer feasible.
Julie scrubbed the plate with the dishrag. She was grateful for the job, but only a fool would not see that she wasn’t needed. Cynthia handled the meals with ease. The long-term employee was a hard worker and someone Julie wanted to model her work ethic after.
Cynthia fixed a plate of chicken casserole, green beans, and a roll, then covered it with foil. She’d done the same the night before, but the food had gone uneaten. She placed the plate in the refrigerator, then grabbed a clean dish towel from the drawer. “It’s been such a treat having you here.” She picked up a plate to dry.
“The pleasure is all mine. I can finish the dishes and sweep and mop the floor if you’d like to sit and rest. You’ve been on the go since daybreak.”
The older woman chuckled. “Sweet girl, I—I’m going to take you up on that.” She removed her well-worn apron and hung it on a hook inside the broom closet, then retrieved the covered dish she’d just put in the refrigerator. While waiting for the meal to heat in the microwave, she glanced over her shoulder at Julie. “You can leave any dishes that you’re not sure where they go on the counter, and I’ll put them away in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Cynthia grabbed a set of silverware from the drawer, poured a glass of milk, then left the kitchen.
Julie finished the dishes and did her best to find where everything went. She scrubbed the stove, washed down the countertops and sink, then swept the floor. She had already mopped the floor twice today. Once after the children finished their lunch and shortly again after the hired hands had come in from the barn. Boots had left a trail of mud from the kitchen back door to the table. No wonder Cynthia hated the rainy season. Julie wanted to make a good impression, so she filled the bucket with soapy water and scrubbed the floor on her hands and knees with a stiff brush.
Cleaning the floor and baseboards, Julie worked up a sweat. She took a short break to inspect her work, and without getting off her knees, she straightened her posture and pressed her hand against her lower back.
Dr. Wellington rounded the corner of the kitchen and stopped abruptly, and the milk glass he’d been balancing on his plate fell and shattered into tiny pieces. His forehead furrowed with deep-set lines. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there. I hope you didn’t get hit with flying glass.”
“No, I wasn’t hit.” She rose to her feet. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s my fault entirely. I wasn’t paying attention.” He set the plate and silverware in the basin, then crossed the room as she was removing the broom from the closet. “Please, allow me.”
Cynthia had stressed more than once to Julie that the doctor wanted to be alone at this particular time of the year. Julie didn’t want her new boss upset with her. “I don’t mind, Dr. Wellington. Really.”
He held out his hand and smiled. “I insist on cleaning up my own mess.”
She released the broom but held on to the dustpan.
He swept the floor. “Everyone calls me Doc.”
“I’m Julie . . . Amy’s friend.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “I apologize for not greeting you when you first arrived. I had completely forgotten what day you were supposed to start. I think Cynthia, bless her heart, screens my visitors or, in your case, new hires.”
“I understand.”
He resumed sweeping. “How is everything going so far?”
“Very well, thank you. You have a beautiful place.”
“Thank you. Has anyone shown you around the farm?” He gathered the glass into a pile.
“Not yet.” She bent down and angled the dustpan. “Cynthia’s been busy training me on inside chores.”
He nodded. “Cynthia’s allergic to hay. She avoids the barns, even going outside on a windy day. Can’t say that I blame her. Once she starts sneezing and her eyes start itching and watering, she’s miserable for days. Antihistamines don’t seem to work for her either.”
“That sounds miserable.” Am I allergic to anything? She couldn’t even be certain she’d ever been in a barn. Julie emptied the glass in the trash can, then put the broom and dustpan away.
“After breakfast tomorrow, I’ll show you around myself.”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother you. Cynthia said you—” She clamped her mouth closed, noticing his face pinch. She didn’t know him well enough to know if the expression meant he’d been struck with sadness or if he was trying to hide being upset.
He sighed heavily. “I’ve known Cynthia for a number of years, and let’s just say she can be a little overly protective.”
She hadn’t learned everything about the ranch operations, but it was obvious that Cynthia cared a great deal about her employer.
“Please don’t take that wrong,” he said. “Cynthia is the one person I trust to keep this place running with or without me. Lord knows I would be lost without her.” He paused, then shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I’ll show you around the barns after we eat breakfast in the morning. If there’s anything you need, please let me or Cynthia know.”
“Yes, I will. And thank you again for allowing me to stay here.”
“Wish I could pay you more.” He ambled toward the kitchen entrance and stopped. “One more thing. I’m glad you’re here. I hope you feel at home. Good night.”
“Good night . . . Doc.” She crossed the room. “You don’t have to pay me. A place to stay is all I need.”
He smiled warmly. “We’ll talk about it another time. Sleep well.”
Julie waited until he left the room before inspecting the floor a final time for stray pieces of glass. She didn’t want one of the children accidentally getting cut. She swept the floor, then washed, dried, and put away the dishes he’d left in the sink. Standing at the light switch, she glanced around the room, smiling with approval. Tidy and ready for tomorrow—a new day.
For the first time since she had woken up in the hospital without an identity, she wasn’t afraid to face tomorrow. Thank You, Jesus, for providing me a place to stay—a place to call home.