Sunday, just before one o’clock, Millie walked halfway down the porch steps, then turned and ran back up. In her rush to get out the door, she had forgotten the basket of ham-and-cheese sandwiches she and Willa had made to take to the Yoders’. “I’m coming!” she shouted. “Don’t leave without me!”
Beth stood at the bottom of the steps, leaning on the banister, a look of boredom on her face. “No fear of that, I should think. This may take a while.” She nodded in the direction of their other family members, all talking at once.
On the brick walk that led from the barnyard to the back porch, Eleanor, Jane, Willa and Cora had gathered around their father to try to convince him that there was no need to hitch up the wagon to go across the street. But for whatever reason, he wanted to take it and he wanted to drive. Each of the sisters there voiced their opinion on the matter while their father talked over them.
“Dat,” Cora said, waving her hand. “It will take us longer to catch the horse out in the field and hitch him to the wagon than to just walk across the road.”
“You don’t drive anymore, Dat,” Willa told him. “Remember? We’ve talked about this.”
“I’m not going to be bossed around by women!” their father argued stubbornly.
Eleanor’s voice could be heard above the din. “Dat, please be reasonable.”
The only reason Henry and Jane weren’t in on it was because Jane had one of her migraines and, even though she could certainly stay home alone, Henry had insisted she would remain behind with her. It was a perfect excuse for Henry, who didn’t like social events where there was no work to be done. She was fine with a barn raising or a threshing party, but she was the one sister who’d been relieved when they’d stopped making social calls as a family when their mother had become seriously ill.
Henry didn’t like social events involving Lavinia, a result of several encounters with the older woman before their bedridden mother had passed. Lavinia had come to the house with soup for the family but had insisted she see “her dear friend Aggie.” Their mother and Lavinia had not been close, but more importantly, their mother had made it clear that she did not want anyone but her immediate family with her in her last days. While friends and neighbors may not have agreed with Aggie Koffman’s choice, they had respected it.
Only Lavinia had come again and again, trying to wear the girls down. Henry, for whatever reason, had made it her personal responsibility to keep Lavinia out of the house and she and Lavinia had gone at it several times. In the end, Henry had won, but only because she was more stubborn than Lavinia. Lavinia had been the first visitor after their mother had died and had made a point of telling anyone who would listen that “she had been the first to see her dear neighbor after her passing.”
“I’ll be right back,” Millie repeated and hurried up the steps.
She was flustered because nothing seemed to be going right today, a day she’d been looking forward to all week. Maybe her whole life. It had all started that morning when they couldn’t find their father. Everyone had thought he was still sleeping because he often slept until someone woke him. It turned out he had risen before dawn and was in the cellar rearranging the canning jars of summer vegetables.
Then, when they all sat down for a breakfast of oatmeal, Millie had jumped up to get maple syrup and bumped into the table, knocking a pitcher of fresh cream over, sending a river of white across the table and into Eleanor’s lap.
After breakfast, Millie had gone to put on her blue dress, only to find it missing. After questioning one sister after the next, none of whom seemed interested in her clothing crisis, she had discovered that Jane was responsible for the lost dress. Trying to be helpful to Eleanor, who was always complaining about the mountains of laundry, Jane had taken the dress the day before, and washed it in a load of clothes, but forgotten to hang them out. Millie had found her favorite dress at the bottom of the washing machine wrinkled and still wet. Jane had apologized and insisted Millie’s dark green dress was just as nice but Millie had nearly burst into tears. She looked best in her blue dress and she wanted to wear it; she needed to wear it to Elden’s house the way a toddler needed her security blanket.
In the end Millie had hung it on the line and thankfully most of the wrinkles had come out and it had dried for the most part, though it was still a little damp at the arms. Which she realized now was making her chilly. Inside the house, she grabbed a sweater when she retrieved the basket of sandwiches, and when she came back outside, their father had relented and agreed to walk across the road rather than taking the horse and wagon.
By the time Millie came down the porch steps again, they were in the lane, headed toward Elden’s. She scurried to catch up with Beth, who was carrying a jug of apple cider, bringing up the rear. “How did they convince him?” Millie asked, out of breath.
“Eleanor reminded him that it was Sunday and even animals needed a day of rest.” Beth shrugged. “Then he just said oll recht and took off down the lane.” She indicated their father out front and Eleanor and the others hurrying to catch up with him.
Millie smiled. “That was smart of her.”
Beth shook her head as they followed their gravel lane toward the road. “Sometimes I think he argues with us just to argue. And to get Eleanor all worked up.” She flashed a sly smile. “Because you know our big sister can get worked up.”
Millie giggled, then realizing they were making fun of Eleanor, she sobered. It wasn’t nice to make fun of people, especially on the Sabbath when their hearts were supposed to be turned toward Gott. “We shouldn’t talk about Eleanor like this,” she told her sister. “She does so much for us. She keeps the household running and worries about the money so we don’t have to.”
“Eleanor doesn’t want us to know how worried she is about our finances,” Beth said, keeping her voice low. “With Dat the way he is, he’s not going to bring any income in anymore. His days of working as a mason are over. I overheard her telling Cora that we’re going to have to figure out how to make money. Farming, even if we could do it ourselves, doesn’t pay enough, not unless you’re our neighbor.” She indicated Elden’s place. They were nearly to the county road now and once they crossed, they’d be in his lane. “I guess they owned two farms back wherever they came from.”
“Wisconsin,” Millie told her. They had caught up with their father and sisters but hung back to continue their conversation.
“Jane said she overheard Lavinia at the apple folic bragging about how well off her husband had left her and Elden. And Elden being the only boy, this farm is his to do with as he pleases. He’s got plenty of irons in the fire. Apparently he’s selling Christmas trees this year.”
Millie hadn’t really thought about Elden’s financial situation, but, unlike most of the young men in Honeycomb who worked at a trade, he just worked his farm. She’d never really thought much about money because her parents had always provided for her. She felt bad that Eleanor was carrying that burden on her shoulders and hers alone.
At the end of the lane, Millie and Beth joined the others, and when it was safe, they crossed the road. As they walked toward the Yoders’ house, Millie took in how neat Elden kept his two-hundred-acre farm. The land to their left where he had grown field corn for his stock had already been turned over, and winter wheat, a ground cover, had recently been planted. To the right was a pasture with a tidy, well-maintained fence and great patches of clover that had obviously been planted to give his horses a nice place to graze. The lane had just been leveled and he’d spread gravel to fill any holes that would prevent buggies and wagons from getting bogged down in wet weather. Their own lane had potholes in it and she wondered if she and Henrietta could rett it up before the fall rains came.
Halfway up the lane, Eleanor dropped back to speak to Millie and Beth. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the others,” she said, looking a bit severe in her black church dress.
They weren’t required to wear their black dress and white cape and apron on Visiting Sundays, and were free to wear what they pleased as long as it was neat and clean. At least Eleanor hadn’t worn her white cape and apron, Millie thought. Eleanor was also wearing her black bonnet, which the rest of the girls had left home, opting for wool scarves tied over their organza kapps for warmth. Millie had chosen her dark blue scarf because she knew it looked nice with her dress.
“Each one of us will take a turn keeping an eye on Dat,” Eleanor continued. “If it seems likes he’s getting tired...”
As her sister went on, Millie’s gaze strayed to the farmhouse coming into view. She’d been in the house over the years, but not in the last two or three. Unlike most Amish homes in Honeycomb, it wasn’t an old-fashioned two-story farmhouse, but what her mother had said was called a Cape Cod. It looked sort of like a one-story house, only there were four big dormer windows and a sharply pitched roof. It had white vinyl siding and a huge front porch with two front doors, one in the center and one to the left in an addition. The center door led into a front hall and the other into a big mudroom and then the kitchen and pantry. When Elden’s parents had bought the property, there’d been no house on it because the ramshackle farmhouse had burned down. Elden’s father had built the Cape Cod with the help of neighbors he’d hired, including her father.
“Millie!” Eleanor grabbed Millie’s arm, startling her. “Are you listening to me?”
She blinked. “Ya. I’m listening now.”
“I said I don’t know how long we’ll be staying. You know how Dat is with strangers nowadays. He might feel uncomfortable.” She lowered her voice. “Even scared. So keep an eye on him and be sure he feels safe.”
The sound of a barking dog, Elden’s bulldog, caught Millie’s attention.
“Samson!” their father called, patting his pant leg. The dog that had been sitting on the front porch steps leaped down and raced as fast as he could toward the new arrivals.
Eleanor rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. She hadn’t been thrilled when Millie had let their father go with Elden earlier in the week, but after their father had talked nonstop about Samson for two days, she’d relented and admitted maybe it had been good for him to be in the company of other men sometimes.
“Afternoon!”
Millie heard Elden’s voice and turned to look for him. He was coming from the opposite direction of the house, waving. Behind him were three men, one Millie recognized as his uncle Gabriel, but the other two, who were closer to Elden in age, she didn’t. His cousins, maybe? He’d mentioned that one or two of Gabriel and Elsie’s children and their families might be there. There were also four little boys, the youngest maybe three, the oldest six or seven, dressed just like the men in dark pants, homemade denim coats and either a knit beanie or a black Sunday hat. Gabriel and Elsie’s grandchildren, Millie assumed.
As Elden approached them, Millie smiled at him, waiting for him to make eye contact.
But instead of looking and speaking to her first, he called, “Good to see you, Beth. Sorry the weather isn’t better.” He slid his hands into his pockets and looked up at the sky. “Supposed to be sunny all day. I don’t know where these clouds have all come from. Makes it chilly, doesn’t it?”
“Ya, no sun will make it chilly all right,” Beth replied. “Take this into the kitchen?” She raised the jug of apple cider.
“Ya. I was hoping we could eat outside. But Mam thinks it’s going to rain. She wouldn’t even let me set up the folding tables outside. We’ll be eating in the kitchen.” His gaze shifted to Cora and he nodded. “Cora.”
“Elden.” Cora smiled and headed toward the house.
Next he greeted Willa. “Glad you could make it. I heard JJ enjoyed your cookies last weekend.”
Elden smiled at Willa as if there was a private joke between them, which made Millie feel like a third wheel on a two-wheeled cart. Here she was, smiling foolishly at him and he hadn’t even looked at her.
“Elden!” their father called, clapping his hands to get the bulldog to leap and bark. “Tell these women that Samson and I are friends.”
Still not looking at Millie, Elden walked toward their father and Eleanor.
“Dat,” Eleanor said. “Please keep your voice down. No need to make a fuss. I just thought you might want to come inside and sit. It was a long walk here.”
“Oh, it was not,” he retorted. “And I’m not coming inside with the women.” He pointed at the fence where Gabriel Yoder and the two younger men were watching them with interest. “Men stand outside and we talk. Men stuff. Don’t we, Elden?”
“Felty can certainly join us,” Elden told Eleanor. “The women are inside putting together the meal.”
Eleanor, looking severe in her black bonnet and three-quarter-length cloak, looked up at Elden, seeming none too pleased. “I thought Dat might want to rest.”
“I’m not resting!” their father said, raising his voice again. The bulldog was standing at his feet, looking up at Eleanor as if pleading to let his friend stay out and play.
“Dat, it’s cold, and—”
Their vadder gave a wave of dismissal and walked away, headed toward the other men. The dog followed.
Millie watched Elden as he chewed on the corner of his mouth and then, his voice low, said, “We’re going to eat in twenty minutes or so, Eleanor. Then we’ll all come inside.” He met her gaze. “I’ll keep an eye on Felty. He’s fine.”
Eleanor took a deep breath, her face tight with indecision.
“Let him go with the men, schweschter,” Beth said impatiently as she walked past them. “How far can he go? Elden’s with him.”
Eleanor hesitated, then at last said, “Fine. But if it gets too cold out here before Lavinia calls you for dinner—”
“We’ll all come inside,” Elden promised.
Eleanor took another breath and nodded as if still trying to convince herself it would be all right. “Danki, Elden.” Then she followed the sisters toward the house.
Realizing she looked foolish standing there, Millie headed in the same direction. “Goot nummadag,” she said as she walked past Elden, her head down.
“Hey, Millie.” He looked away from her. “Nay, Samson.” He strode back toward the men. “No jumping, Samson. Off! Off! Felty, tell him to behave himself.”
Millie tried not to be upset that Elden had talked to Beth...and to Willa and Cora and Eleanor, and not to her. He was, after all, hosting. He didn’t have time to talk to everyone. Not with his uncle and cousins standing there watching them.
Millie’s feelings were hurt, though. The way he had spoken to her the day he invited them to come over, Millie had thought he was inviting the family because he wanted her to visit. Which, she realized, looking back, was ridiculous. He was just being a nice neighbor. And now that he was ready to start having folks over and making rounds on visiting days, it was only logical that he’d invite them first. A way of easing back into it.
It all made perfect sense. But Millie’s eyes still felt scratchy as she hung up her jacket in the mudroom and walked into the kitchen, a smile plastered on her face. “Goot nummadag, Lavinia,” she said brightly. “Everyone.”
The room was bustling with her sisters and the other women going this way and that with three little girls, dressed like the younger woman chattering in Deitsch as they folded paper napkins on a bench. Some of the women were setting the large farm table and the three plastic ones, all covered in tablecloths while others were removing lids and foil from various dishes lined along the long butcher-block counter that ran between the eight-burner gas stove with its two separate ovens and the large farmhouse-style sink. Because it was Sunday, the food had been prepared the day before. They really weren’t supposed to cook at all on the Sabbath, but heating soup on a burner or popping biscuits into the oven wasn’t really considered cooking.
“Goot nummadag,” Lavinia said, barely looking at Millie. “Oh, Elsie! The corn bread. In the oven,” she called from the far side of the kitchen.
Millie knew Elden’s aunt, Elsie, though not well.
“Not to worry,” Elsie, dressed as Lavinia and Eleanor both were, in black dresses, said. She grabbed a dish towel and opened one of the ovens.
“Not that one,” Lavinia fussed, flapping her hands. “The other one.”
Elsie said nothing, but obediently opened the other oven door and slid out a tray of corn muffins.
Millie stood in the doorway, her basket of sandwiches in her hand, not sure what to do. She’d be happy to help, of course, but was afraid to ask Lavinia what she needed because she was obviously already stressed. It was always better to make oneself busy and not pester their hostess, her mother had often said.
One of the two young women Millie didn’t know walked past her, carrying a baby on her hip. The woman who looked to be around Millie’s age stopped. “Hi, I’m Marybeth Kertz, Gabriel and Elsie’s daughter.” Petite with dark hair and rosy cheeks, she smiled up at Millie.
“Um, I’m Millie Koffman,” Millie said, noticing that not only did Marybeth have a boppli in her arms, but she was expecting another. “I live...we live across the road.”
“Ah, Elden’s friend. I’m so glad you could—” She looked over her shoulder in the direction of the little girls. “Sarey, please don’t tear up the napkins. Fold them nice. Your cousin Bernice will show you. Danki, Bernice.” Marybeth looked back at Millie. “Do you want me to take those?” Holding the baby in one arm, she pointed at the basket hanging on Millie’s elbow.
Millie looked down at the basket. “Nay, I can put them out. I just wasn’t sure...”
Marybeth leaned closer so that only Millie could hear her. “So Aunt Lavinia doesn’t fuss at you.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I know. She can be scary. Best way to handle it is to put whatever you’ve brought out without asking her.” She looked up with big brown eyes. “That’s how my sisters and sisters-in-law do it.”
Millie nodded, looking down at the baby in her arms. She was a sweet thing in a long white dress, a yellow pacifier in her mouth. She watched Millie with big brown eyes that looked like her mother’s.
“And who is this boppli?” Millie asked, smiling at the baby.
“This?” Marybeth bounced the baby that was maybe six months old on her hip. “This is our Lizzy. Aren’t you?” she crooned to the baby. “And Sarey is ours, mine and Jakob’s. And we have a little boy, Thomas. He’s outside with his dat. Likely chasing Aunt Lavinia’s chickens.” She shook her head. “The boy loves to chase chickens. I don’t know why.” She looked at Millie’s basket. “What did you bring?”
“Um...” Millie looked down, then at Marybeth and shook herself mentally. She was being silly about Elden not talking to her. Her expectations had been misguided by her own imagination. He hadn’t said anything to her to suggest he was interested in her as a potential girlfriend. Men like Elden Yoder didn’t date and certainly didn’t marry big girls like her.
Millie decided then and there not to give Elden another thought. For months she’d been wanting to go visiting the way they had when their mother was alive and she was here and she was going to enjoy herself. “Ham sandwiches,” she told Marybeth. “Little ones. On slider rolls. Have you seen them in the grocery store?”
Marybeth’s eyes widened with excitement. “I love those little rolls. We use them for hamburgers when Jakob makes them on our grill. I thought the small burgers would be better for the little ones.” She wrinkled her freckled nose. “But I like them, too. Just the right amount of bread to burger.”
Marybeth’s smile was infectious, and Millie’s mood lightened. Elden had done nothing wrong. She had no right to be upset with him. He had been neighborly, and she had somehow misinterpreted his meaning. Yes, he had said he wanted to spend time with her, but he obviously hadn’t meant it in the way she had hoped. And that was that.
Millie needed to enjoy the afternoon and not worry about Elden. Don’t fret over the things you can’t control. Let them go, her mother had always said. Trust in Gott and His ways.
And Millie decided to do just that.
Millie thoroughly enjoyed the communal meal, and was reminded again of how much she had missed Visiting Sundays. The Sundays where there was no worship was a time to relax and enjoy the friendship and fellowship of her Amish community. It was a reminder to be thankful for all Gott provided each day. As was often done in Amish households when there were multiple guests, the women sat separately from the men to eat. Lavinia presided over the two folding tables that had been set up for the women and children, while Elden, his uncle, the two younger men as well Millie’s father sat together at the oak farm table.
Millie didn’t mind not sitting with the men because if she had, she’d have spent the entire meal trying not to look at Elden. However, as she ate, talking to her sisters and her new friend Marybeth and Marybeth’s sister-in-law, she decided that if she ever married and had a home of her own, she would insist men and women sit together at a meal. Segregation made sense to her when men wanted to stand at a fence and talk crops and hoof infections and women wanted to talk babies and quilting. But that type of segregation came naturally. In this case, Lavinia had been adamant about the seating, not wanting her son to sit with so many attractive young women of marrying age, Millie suspected. So the women talked among themselves, as did the men.
Once the delicious meal of soups, sandwiches, salads and such was done, the men took their leave, going back outside while the women cleaned up the kitchen. Eleanor had briefly tried to get their father to stay in, but he refused and had quite merrily joined the other men. As Elden left the kitchen, he told Eleanor not to worry about her father because he’d be with him.
Once the kitchen was rett up, Lavinia suggested the women all move into the parlor to chat while Elsie’s daughter and daughter-in-law nursed their babies. As Millie sat, listening to the various conversations, she tried not to be disappointed in the day. Even though it hadn’t turned out as she had hoped, it had still been wonderful. It had felt good to be out of the house and she had made a new friend. She and Marybeth had hit it off so well that Marybeth had asked her to stop by one day in the coming week. Only a year older than her, Marybeth had insisted it was lonely at home all day with her little ones while her husband, a framer who worked for a construction company, was gone all day. She said he worked five days a week, and sometimes even Saturday when the Mennonite contractor he worked for was busy.
After Marybeth had fed her little Lizzy, she asked Millie if she’d like to hold her while she took her three-year-old to the bathroom. Cuddling the baby on her shoulder as she drifted off to sleep, Millie was surprised by the emotions that welled up inside her. She had never thought much about having babies of her own. Maybe because she had told herself no one would ever marry her. But holding Marybeth’s boppli, she felt almost a physical desire to have one of her own. Where had that come from, she wondered.
“Mildred?”
Millie looked up to see her father standing in the doorway to the parlor.
“Sorry to disturb,” he told the other women, holding up his hand.
“What do you need, Dat?” Eleanor rose from a chair near the woodstove that was providing just enough heat in the room to make it cozy but not hot. “Are you tired? Are you ready to go home?”
He looked at Eleanor. “Not going home yet.” He returned his gaze to Millie. “Walking down to the pond to see a dock. Elden built it. Want to come?”
Marybeth squeezed past him in the doorway, her daughter following behind. “I’ll take her,” she said to Millie, putting out her arms. “Danki. Oh my, she’s sound asleep, isn’t she?”
Millie carefully passed the baby back to its mother, wishing she could have held her a few minutes longer and breathe in her sweet, milky scent as Lizzy slept. But if she didn’t deal with their father, Eleanor was likely to march them all home, and Millie wasn’t ready to go yet.
“Come on, Mildred,” her fadder said, hooking his thumb in the general direction of the pond. “Taking Samson for a walk. Going to see the dock. I like a dock to fish on.”
“Dat, maybe you should sit down and rest a while,” Eleanor said.
Their father cut his eyes at his eldest daughter, giving her the look they had all known from their childhoods. Dat had always been easy to get along with. He’d been kind and set a good example in everything he said and did, but when he’d had enough of bad behavior or whatever earned his disapproval, he made his point with one look. The one he was directing toward Eleanor.
Eleanor sat back down.
“Ya or nay?” Felty asked Millie.
“Um...” Millie started across the parlor, glancing at Eleanor then back at their father. “Sure, Dat. I’ll go see the pond.”
“The dock,” he corrected, then turned around and walked back through the house the way he’d come.
Millie heard the back door close before she entered the mudroom to collect her coat and wool scarf. As she turned the corner, she nearly walked right into Elden. She gave a cry of surprise, then pressed her hand to her heart that was suddenly pounding. “Sorry.” Embarrassed, she kept her head down. “I didn’t realize you were here. My father—” She pointed to the door that led onto the porch. “He...he wanted me to walk down to the pond with him.”
“With us,” Elden said. “Which one is yours?” He turned to the women’s coats hanging on hooks.
“That one,” she said, pointing, thinking it had to be obvious. Hers was twice as big as anyone else’s.
Elden plucked it from the hook. “This your scarf?”
She nodded, not sure what was going on. Why was Elden here? Had he been waiting for her? It seemed like it.
Elden handed both to her and watched her slip on the coat, close it with the hook and eyes, and then tie her scarf carefully over her kapp. As Millie knotted the scarf under her chin she realized she should have been smart like Eleanor and worn her Sunday bonnet, which was made to fit over a starched prayer kapp.
“Temperature has dropped outside,” Elden said, watching her. “You bring a neck scarf?”
She shook her head. “I was warm enough when we walked over.”
“Ya, but days are getting shorter, aren’t they?” He moved along the row of hooks on the wall, looking for something. He stopped and grabbed a dark blue knitted scarf. “Here, wear this. It will be chilly out near the pond.”
He walked back to her and offered it.
“It’s oll recht, I don’t need—”
He lifted his brows and the look on his face made her fear he might try to tie it around her neck if she didn’t take it. “Danki,” she said softly, lowering her gaze as she accepted it. Then she quickly wrapped it around her neck. It was well made and the wool wasn’t in the least bit itchy. “Nice scarf,” she mumbled.
“Mam made it for me. She’s good with knitting needles.” He opened the back door and looked down at her. “Ready?”
Still not quite sure what was going on, Millie followed him out onto the porch. None of the other men or boys seemed to be around, but her father was already halfway across the barnyard. He was headed north toward the pond, the bulldog trotting happily beside him.
Elden walked down the steps and she followed him. “Gabriel and his son and son-in-law are out in the shed checking out my new brush hog,” he said.
She frowned. “I thought those kinds of big mowers were pulled behind a tractor. I don’t know about your bishop, but my uncle would never approve of a tractor.”
He smiled slyly at her. “Bishop Paul is a good man, but no, I can’t own a tractor.” He held up a finger. “I can drive one for an Englisher if it’s required for work I get paid for, but I can’t own one. Last spring when Mam and I went to Lancaster County to visit an elderly aunt, I saw a horse-drawn brush hog and decided I could use one here, what with all the land I still want to clear. Bought an old brush hog at auction and put a 15 horsepower engine on it. I hitch my cart to Clyde, my Clydesdale. I know, not an original name,” he said with a smirk, “and I pull the brush hog behind the cart. I’ve still got a couple of adjustments to make, but I think it’s going to work just fine.”
She smiled at him. “That’s clever. You figuring all that out.”
He shrugged. “I like a challenge.”
He looked at her when he said it, but then he kept eyeing her until she felt awkward and scanned ahead for her father. Her dat had stopped under an apple tree that was missing most of its leaves and he was making a little pile of sticks while the dog sat watching his every move. “What is he doing?” she wondered aloud.
Elden watched for a moment. “Ah, a jump.”
“A jump?”
“My fault. I showed Felty how I was teaching Samson to jump over sticks and such.” He shrugged. “Just for fun. And maybe to vex my mother.” He pointed in her father’s direction. “And now Felty’s trying to get Samson to jump over all sorts of things. Don’t worry. Samson won’t jump anything higher than a woolly bear.”
Millie laughed, trying to imagine the dog jumping over the thick, fuzzy black-and-orange caterpillars. “I can ask him to stop,” she said.
“It’s fine. Felty’s enjoying himself.” He looked at her again. “How about you? Having a good time?”
“Um, ya. I am. It’s nice to get out. And to spend time with neighbors. Friends.” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what was going on. Why her father had come for her. Why Elden had been waiting, but she couldn’t think how to phrase it, so she didn’t say anything.
“Me, too,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets as they walked. “I’m having a good time. A surprisingly good day.” He was quiet for a moment and then went on. “Sorry about sending your father in for you. I didn’t know how it would look, me walking into my mam’s parlor and asking you if you wanted to go for a walk. I figured this way was safer. And your dat really did want to see the dock I built.”
Millie felt her heart skip a beat. He had sent her father in for her? So she could go for a walk with him? This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. She felt a little out of breath, not because of the pace at which they were walking, but because the obvious conclusion was that...that Elden did like her. Why else would he want her to go for a walk with him?
Then she felt a sense of panic. Unless maybe he was interested in Beth and he wanted to ask Millie about her. Beth was the one he had spoken to first when they arrived.
“I wanted you to come walk with me—” Elden hesitated. “Because I wanted to ask you—”
Millie heard her father cry out and looked up to see him lying on the ground. “Dat!” She took off at a run.