Matthew turned off the shower, feeling sore, but with more energy than he’d had in a really long time. The ache for David was nonstop, but he was able to grieve and keep moving. That was a welcome improvement. He and Luke had two weeks of hard work ahead of them getting the old buildings torn down. He dreaded facing that, seeing in his mind’s eye the day of the fire, the day David died, over and over again as they worked, but it had to be done. They’d begin tomorrow. Today was a church Sunday, and he hoped it’d bring him strength to face the next two weeks.

An aroma of coffee hung in the air as he finished shaving. By the time he slid into his Sunday suit, the smell of scrapple and cinnamon rolls filtered through the upstairs. He stepped into the hallway, almost bumping into his mother as she staggered out of her bedroom.

“Mamm, aren’t ya goin’ to church today?”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Ich kann net.”

“Mamm, you can.” He kissed her forehead. “We need you. Daed’s lonely for you. Right now it’s like he’s lost a son and a wife. Peter still needs his Mamm. He’s just a kid, but growing up so fast. And Kathryn shouldn’t be tryin’ to run the house while helping me rebuild the business.”

“I wish I’d been a better Mamm for my sweet David.” She brushed tears off her face. “I want another chance.”

Guilt. That hopeless, life-choking guilt.

He hated it.

“Kumm.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Please.”

She barely nodded, and he escorted her downstairs.

Closing the oven, Kathryn turned. Her gentle eyes surrounded his mother with understanding, but when she looked at Matthew, something else sparked in them. Or maybe he was just hoping he saw something more for him. His Daed thudded through the back door, and Peter slammed the front door as he entered.

“The horses have come inside, ya?” Kathryn looked at his Daed.

He gave a sheepish look, half smiling. “Sorry, I tripped over the feed bucket.”

“In the house?” Kathryn looked at Peter.

“So that’s what I did with that thing. Sorry.”

“You know, I don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.” She winked at Mamm and poured her a cup of coffee.

When Kathryn returned to the stove and set the coffeepot on the eye, Matthew sidled up to her. “Mamm’s guilt is getting worse, not better.” He grabbed the plate of scrapple.

Kathryn looked up at him.

He shrugged. “I was hoping you knew something to say.”

Kathryn lifted the pan of cooling cinnamon buns off the back of the stove. “I…I have no idea what to say, or I’d have said it already.”

“We gotta try something.”

She nodded, and they both moved to the table and set the items in place.

Kathryn passed out the cloth napkins and took a seat.

“Mamm, you know Kathryn’s dealt with a rough patch of grief too.”

Mamm stirred her coffee. “Yes, I know.”

Kathryn took a sip of coffee and eased the cup back to the table. “When my brother died, it seemed there was nowhere to put the affection I had just for him. It’s like it banked inside me, and I ached to do something for him again. Then I began to constantly relive all the times I fought with him.”

Mamm nodded. “Ya, I can see feeling that way.”

Daed took a seat and poured himself some coffee. “I’m not short on feeling like I failed him. Over the last few years, I’ve spent weeks at a time away from home, traveling with the Amish carpenters.” His eyes rimmed with tears. “I miss the days when most Amish could make a living farming.”

The room was silent, much as it had been since David died, but this time a vapor of hope seemed to swirl, like the unseen aromas of coffee and cinnamon buns.

Peter squirmed in his chair, making it screech against the floor. “I promised him I’d help that day in the shop. If I’d been there, I’d have smelled that gasoline before it could catch fire.”

Mamm gasped and grabbed Peter, knocking her coffee over. “No. If you’d been there, I could have lost you too. You have no sense of smell, child. What are you thinking?”

Peter burst into tears mixed with laughter. Kathryn mopped up the spilled coffee. Matthew didn’t miss the nod Daed gave Kathryn—a slight movement that carried the weight of his full approval.

When Kathryn took a seat, Matthew slipped his arm around the back of her chair, and she whispered, “Real love—it’s the best, most painful thing God ever did for us.”

“So really a person should say, ‘I’m in pain with you.’” He kept his voice low and tried to hide his laughter.

“Only when they’re dealing with you, Matthew Esh.”

He laughed out loud, and his Mamm looked at him. He pointed at Kathryn. “It’s her fault.”

His Mamm’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Kathryn to him. He leaned the chair back on two legs so Kathryn couldn’t see him as he placed his index finger over his lips and nodded at his mother, answering all the questions she’d never dare to ask. Then he winked at his Mamm.