The next morning, Anna secured her hair tightly for her first day working with Greta. All she wanted to do was train for summiting the mountain and keep working on the inscription, but preparing for winter must come first. Otherwise, she felt as though the guilt of remaining at home and being a burden would crush her. At least she’d taken control of the food problem by planning well and utilizing Greta’s knowledge.
That evening, she planned to look through their bookshelves at home to find her grandfather’s books on hiking. She could spend her evenings reading those and the weekends going for long walks in the woods to get her lungs in shape. Besides, there would be plenty of time for pondering the remaining clues while her hands were busy.
For the next three weeks, she weeded and thinned the sprouts in their garden with Greta, watering it morning and night since there hadn’t been any rain. They gathered berries, made soap, and dried the herbs that shot up in the garden. By the first week of September, they’d collected twenty buckets of wild blackberries and three buckets of the last of the raspberries. All over the house, berries hung from the ceiling to dry in mosquito nets; they planned to make jam next.
After dinner that night, Anna kissed her grandfather’s cheek as he sat in his chair by the fire. “Can you go to the store tomorrow and get two dozen two-quart mason jars, the ones with porcelain-lined lids? That should be three dollars. And as much sugar as we can reasonably afford.”
Her grandfather looked up from the wood he was carving—a new chair for the bookstore. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And you already brought up all the old jars from the cellar, right?” she asked.
He nodded, this time keeping his eyes on the wood.
Greta smiled brightly at Anna and got out her quilting pieces. “Levi, would you make sure we have enough wood? We’re going to burn the cookstove all day tomorrow.”
Levi nodded curtly and jumped to his feet. “I’ll go look.”
Greta returned to her quilting, humming softly. Anna watched her and felt a growing fondness for the older woman.
“Grandfather, would you mind ordering Crime and Punishment for me? I’ve still got twenty-five cents from last Christmas. If you’re right about the Raskolnikov reference, I’ll need it to solve one of the clues. I already looked around town, and no one has it in stock. I know we could use the money for more food or supplies, but—”
“Of course. And no, we won’t be using your Christmas money to buy food.”
“I wouldn’t mind, but I really need to get my hands on that book,” she said.
The next morning, she found Greta awake before sunrise, the fire in the stove blazing. After her grandfather returned with the promised jars and sugar, Greta handed him a basket of freshly-baked raspberry scones and blackberry muffins to sell. With a tender smile, he donned his felt hat and waved on his way back out the door.
Levi awoke soon after and stole a handful of berries from the kitchen work table before putting on his coat and hat. “I’m off to the mill. Ben and I are going out tonight. I’ll be back late.”
Greta stirred a large, bubbling pot of raspberries.
“We’ll still be right here.” She waved to Levi as he escaped from the heat of the kitchen. “Anna, I need you to wash and dry these new jars. It’s important they’re as dry as possible.”
They spent the entire day making jams, jellies, and syrups. Greta used the largest pot to seal the jars, immersing them then letting them boil. It was nine in the evening when they finished—the kitchen smelled heavenly, with glistening jars on every surface.
Anna kissed her grandfather on the cheek before collapsing into the cedar rocking chair near the fire. After he’d gotten home from work, he’d been put to work as well.
“We’ll have to be careful with all the jam.” Greta gave her husband a playful smile as she joined them. “Remember that stain from when you broke a jar of jam in the middle of the night?”
Anna shook her head, forehead scrunched in confusion. “That stain was from the accident.”
Her grandfather stood noisily, the woodwork in his hands falling to the floor. “Don’t ever bring that up again.”
The vein in his forehead was visible, and his jaw clenched. He stormed upstairs, leaving Greta staring after him.
Anna exchanged a confused look with her but said no more. She had only been nine when the Duwamish boy had broken into their house. It was before he’d married Greta, but Anna had assumed he’d told her about it. She couldn’t think of any reason he’d keep such a thing to himself, but then again, lately it seemed like there was a lot about her grandfather she didn’t understand.
The women rested for a few minutes by the fire, and Anna was about to head upstairs for bed when the front door burst open.
Levi stumbled in, his words slurring together. “It smellssso good in here.”
Ben laughed as Levi leaned against the wall trying to remove his boots.
Anna shot Greta a look. “I do believe Levi’s drunk.”
“At least he comes by it honestly,” Greta mumbled.
“I heard that, an’ I’m pretty sure you’re mistaken.” Levi sank to the floor.
Anna stood from her chair. “Will one of you fine fellas grab more wood from outside?”
Ben appeared much steadier on his feet. “Be happy to.”
She followed him to the door. “Are you not much for alcohol?”
“Not my particular weakness.” He tipped his hat meaningfully as he turned to the wood pile. He returned a moment later, arms full of firewood.
She put out her arms for him to fill. “I’m sure you need to get going. I can bring it in to the living room.”
He peered at her questioningly then shrugged. “As you wish.”
As he placed each log gently into her arms, one piece after another, her cheeks flushed at his nearness. She couldn’t read his expression, but she was definitely aware that they were out of sight from the others. He put the last log on top, then stood to his full height, slowly taking a step back. She was lightheaded from the light touches of his hands on her bare arms as he’d placed each piece.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you for your help.” Her eyes lingered on his until she made herself turn away.
“Goodnight then.” He lifted his hat slightly.
Anna was grateful to have wood to stack—a task to attend to—as she closed the door. She hoped Greta would think any flush in her cheeks was from the cold, but in reality, she just wasn’t sure what to make of Ben. He was handsome and charming, but her brother seemed adamant that she should keep her distance from him. He did have some inconsistencies. Did he think she was fragile and needing protection, or did he think she was strong and capable? The way he’d held her gaze after he’d stacked the wood in her arms made her cheeks warm. Was he attracted to her?