15

Early Friday morning, just as the sun peeked over the horizon and chased the pink from the sky, Tim poured a bowl of cereal, sat at the kitchen bar, and ate. In silence. His gaze roved to the living room and the smashed spot on the carpet where Adrianna, Parker, and Bekah had sat to play their game. Their voices, their laughter had brought life into the house again. No doubt that was what had compelled him to make his ridiculous agreement with Mrs. Knackstedt. He chomped down on a spoonful of Shredded Wheat, the crunch loud in his ears. Just how much help would two children be? He’d probably end up babysitting them and paying them for the privilege.

He tried to summon up indignation, but none rose. Using his spoon, he submerged a ragged square of cereal and watched it bob back to the surface of the milk. Truth was, deep down, he looked forward to the company. He just hoped the kids’ presence wouldn’t prove to be more hindrance than help. He had more than enough work without going behind and cleaning up mistakes. Even so, having company, somebody to talk to while he worked—that’d be nice.

And that Parker . . . A grin tugged at Tim’s cheek. No doubt about it, Tim liked Parker. The boy’s open heart and ever-seeking expression reminded Tim of Charlie. Not the bad memories—the painful loss—but the good ones: the hugs, the smiles, the innocence. Tim scooped the last two bites of cereal, then lifted the bowl two-handed and drank the milk. Lowering the empty bowl, he gave himself a stern warning about not transferring his feelings for his dead son to this Mennonite boy. It wouldn’t be healthy for him or for Parker. But time with Parker, teaching him, watching him view the world through ingenuous eyes might ease some of the sting of missing Charlie.

A person could hope, anyway.

Tim dropped the cereal bowl and spoon in the sink with his coffee cup, then snatched his billed cap from the peg by the front door. The beehives were due to arrive midmorning—he needed to stay within shouting distance of the house until the county extension officer showed up with the colorful boxes of buzzing insects. But he had plenty of work in the barn to keep him busy until then. He strode out into the sunbathed morning.

“But I wanna go to Mr. Roper’s house, too!”

Bekah resisted pushing her fingers into her ears to block her little sister’s whiny voice, which rose higher with every word. But then Adri would just holler louder. So she shrugged and assumed a reasonable tone. “I’m going to be working, not playing over there. It won’t be any fun for you at all.”

Adri’s lower lip poked out. “I can work, too.”

Bekah snorted. Adri might think she worked when it came time for household chores, but Bekah knew better. Somebody usually had to redo whatever she did. Five-year-olds could be such an annoyance. Bekah lifted her mesh cap and slipped it over her heavy bun, tucking stray wisps of hair beneath the cap’s brim. Adri stood beside the dresser, watching, her face set in a fierce scowl. The little girl would beg until she got her way if Bekah didn’t come up with a good argument.

Propping her hands on her knees, she looked directly into Adri’s snapping eyes. “With Parker and me away, Mom’ll be here all alone. What if she needs a cup of water or wants somebody to run out to the mailbox and get the letters? Who’ll do that if all three of us are gone?”

Adri nibbled her lower lip, her brow puckered with indecision. Bekah held her breath. Would her ploy work? Suddenly Adri stomped her foot and pointed at Bekah. “You’re tricking me! Momma won’t let me walk to the mailbox all by myself. You’re mean, Bekah!” She raced out of the room. Her bare feet pounded on the stairs, and her voice drifted back to Bekah’s ears. “Momma! Bekah’s being mean!”

Bekah sighed and finished securing her cap. She’d learned long ago she needed at least four pins if she was going to be out in the wind. She gave the cap a tug, then, satisfied it would hold, sank down onto the edge of the bed and wriggled her tennis shoes over her bare feet. Mom didn’t like her going sockless, but as soon as she and Parker got over to Mr. Roper’s she intended to take her shoes off and go barefooted. It was too hot to keep her feet locked up in the sneakers. She whisked a quick look out the window. Maybe if the sky would rain, things would cool down a bit. But all through May and the start of June, the sky had remained the same—cloudless. Just like today. As Daddy used to say, it’d be another scorcher.

With her shoes in place, she bounced up and headed for the door. Before she could leave the room, though, Mom stepped into the doorway. Bekah could tell from the look on Mom’s face she was going to get a lecture. She braced herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Honey, would you mind letting Adrianna go with you this one time?” Mom held up her hand, staving off Bekah’s argument. She lowered her voice. “You and I both know she’ll quickly grow bored if all you’re doing is housecleaning. After today, she’ll probably never ask again. But if you leave her here, she’ll pester you each time you go to Mr. Roper’s.”

Bekah blew out a breath. As much as she hated to admit it, Mom was probably right. She hated caving in to Adri—it seemed like her little sister always got her way—but she could put up with her one time if it meant never having to argue with her about going to Mr. Roper’s again. “All right. I’ll take her.”

Mom smiled, her shoulders slumping in relief. “Thank you.” Her gaze roved over Bekah’s dress, and she nodded in approval. “Good. You chose a work dress rather than one of your nicer ones. Be sure to grab an apron or two from the clean ones in the pantry.”

Bekah had already planned to take aprons, cleaning rags, a bucket, and sponges just in case Mr. Roper didn’t have cleaning supplies available for her use, but she stayed silent and let Mom do her mom-thing and give directions.

“Remember, ‘And whatsoever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus—’ ”

Bekah knew Colossians 3:17 by heart, so she finished reciting it with her mother. “—‘giving thanks to God and the Father by him.’” She nodded rapidly, her ribbons tickling her cheeks. “I know, Mom.”

Mom sighed, her expression turning tender. “It’s hard to imagine you being grown up enough to take on your first job. It seems like just yesterday you were Adrianna’s age. . . .”

Bekah swallowed. Sometimes she wished she could go backward in time—be little again and have a daddy who picked her up and bounced her in the air or held her on his lap when she was scared. But those days were so long ago, even the memories were fuzzy.

Mom went on. “But you’re a good worker, Bekah, and I know you’ll do your very best for Mr. Roper so God might be glorified through your efforts.”

Guilt stung the fringes of Bekah’s heart. If Mom knew why Bekah wanted to hang around Mr. Roper’s house, she’d be so disappointed. Before Mom could read the guilt in Bekah’s eyes, she lurched forward and captured her mother in a hug. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

Mom squeezed her tight and then set her aside. “I trust you. Now hurry down and eat your breakfast. Parker has already finished his toast and is raring to go.”

Bekah rushed through her breakfast, then led her brother and sister to the garage to retrieve their bicycles. She considered taking Mom’s so she could put Adri in the child seat, but given the short distance to Mr. Roper’s, she decided to let Adri ride her own little bike. The ride might tire her enough that she’d sit quietly and not be a pest while Bekah cleaned.

Wedging the bucket full of supplies into the basket attached to her handlebars, she gave Parker and Adri a stern look. “All right, now. Stay behind me.” She hopped on the bike and took off, trusting them to do as she said. Ten minutes after climbing onto their bikes—they had to go slow for Adri’s sake—they pulled into Mr. Roper’s long lane. “Park by the barn,” Bekah called over her shoulder, and both Parker and Adri followed her directions.

Adri let her bike drop onto its side in the dirt, but Parker painstakingly pushed down the kickstand with his hand, balanced his bicycle, then brushed his palms together. He smiled so big his whole face lit up. “Let’s go knock on the door and tell Mr. Roper we’re here.” He and Adri started for the house at a gallop, but a voice carried from the barn—“Hey! Kids! In here!” Adri spun with hardly a pause, but Parker had to stop himself, turn, and then break into his clumsy run again.

Adri raced past Bekah, but Bekah waited for Parker, and they entered the barn together. It was a lot darker inside the barn than out in the sunshine, and it took a minute or two before she spotted Mr. Roper. Then she waved, swinging her bucket. “Hi. We’re here to work.”

He wiped his hands on a grimy rag and tossed it aside. His gaze dropped to Adri, who stood grinning up at him with her hands locked behind her back and her round tummy poking out. “Just what kind of work do you do, madam?”

Adri giggled. “I’m not madam. I’m Adri.”

Mr. Roper snickered, then turned to Bekah. He pointed to her bucket. “I see you brought some supplies. That’s good. You’ll find all kinds of cleaning solutions under the sink in the kitchen. Help yourself. See how much you can get done, starting in the kitchen, then the bathroom, and then whatever you think needs doing—dusting and so forth—in the living room.” His brows pinched, and his tone changed slightly, losing its lightheartedness as he finished. “But don’t worry about the bedrooms. I’ve got those doors closed so you know you don’t need to go in there.”

Bekah tipped her head. “You don’t want me washing bed sheets or anything?”

He chuckled, but Bekah thought it sounded forced. “I figure you’ll have plenty else to do in the rest of the house. So no, don’t worry about sheets. Just the main part of the house is fine.” He swung his smile on Parker. “And how about you? Ready to work?”

Parker bobbed his head. “Yes, sir!”

Mr. Roper laughed—a more genuine laugh. “All right, then. Get hold of that wheelbarrow over there and we’ll get busy.” He flapped his hands at Bekah and Adri. “Well, go on, now—we men don’t need supervision.”

With a giggle, Adri grabbed Bekah’s hand and dragged her toward the house. Bekah felt a little uncomfortable opening Mr. Roper’s door and going in without him, but once inside she turned her attention to working. She kicked off her tennis shoes and left them by the front door. “Sit on the couch and be good,” she told Adri, then she set to work in the kitchen first, as Mr. Roper had instructed. She started by washing the few dishes in the sink and putting them away. Then she scrubbed all the countertops, organizing the containers of food stores and small appliances scattered across the tan counter.

Satisfied the top half of the kitchen was clean, she turned her attention to the floor. “Blech! I wonder how long it’s been since someone scrubbed this linoleum?” She hadn’t intended to speak aloud, but Adri dashed into the kitchen at her sister’s voice. Bekah pointed to the tall stools on the other side of the counter. “Climb up there and stay out of my way. I gotta find a broom and sweep before I can start scrubbing.” She’d make good use of her bucket and sponge.

Bekah looked around for a pantry—Mom kept her broom and dustpan in the pantry at home. But the funny folding door beside the fridge hid a water heater and a box of trash bags, no broom. Bekah closed the door again and moved to the main room. A short hallway on the left of the living room invited her entrance. She stepped into the paneled hall and counted four doors—two on each side. The closest one to the living room, on the right-hand side of the hall, stood open, revealing the bathroom. But the other doors were all closed. Were they all bedrooms, or was one of them a closet?

For a moment indecision niggled. Mr. Roper had told her not to open any doors. But how else would she find a broom? “I won’t go into the rooms,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll just open and peek so I can find a broom.” She moved to the single door closest to the bathroom and inched it open. Although the curtains were drawn, shrouding the room in shadows, Bekah glimpsed a twin-sized bed bearing a spread spattered all over with cars and trucks in primary colors. A shelf cluttered with toys stood next to the bed. A little boy’s bedroom.

Curiosity wiggled through Bekah’s middle. Mr. Roper had a son?

“Bekah?”

Bekah jolted and slammed the door closed, whirling to face Adri. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“But I found a broom.” Adri thrust a straw-bristled broom at Bekah. “It was stuck beside the ’frigerator.”

Bekah snatched the broom from her sister and gave Adri a little push toward the living room. “Go sit down, like I said. And no more snooping!” Although she aimed the warning at Adri, she knew she needed it even more than her sister did.

She swept the floor, making sure to chase every crumb and bit of fuzz from beneath the edges of the cabinets. The accumulation shocked her. Mr. Roper must have forgotten what a broom was for. Then she filled her bucket with warm, soapy water and set to work with the sponge. Her knees ached by the time she was finished, but the old linoleum looked much better. She pushed to her feet and pointed at Adri. “You stay put. I’m gonna clean the bathroom.”

Adri whined, “Can’t I get down?”

“No.” Bekah lifted the bucket with both hands. “You’ll just get in my way.” She waddled to the bathroom, careful not to splash the mucky water over the bucket’s rim. After emptying the bucket in the bathtub, she gave the bathroom a thorough cleaning from top to bottom. When every surface sparkled, she rinsed her bucket and sponge and returned to the kitchen to see if the floor had dried. To her surprise, she’d spent an hour and a half in the bathroom. The clock on the stove showed eleven o’clock—the morning was almost gone. And Adri was curled on the sofa, fast asleep.

Bekah had intended to dust and vacuum, but she got another idea. Judging by the dry bread crumbs all over the kitchen floor, Mr. Roper ate a lot of sandwiches. Maybe she could make up a big casserole. Wouldn’t he appreciate a hot lunch after working all morning? He had a microwave oven, so he could reheat portions and eat for several meals. Opening and closing doors carefully to avoid disturbing her sleeping sister, she explored cabinets and discovered a box of macaroni noodles, two small cans of tuna, canned peas, and a half-filled bag of rippled potato chips. A peek in the fridge revealed milk and butter, and she’d already found flour in a tall plastic canister. Mr. Roper had everything she needed to make a tuna-noodle casserole.

Humming to herself, Bekah filled a large pot with water and set it on the stove to heat. She preset the oven to three hundred fifty degrees, just as Mom had taught her, then opened all the cans, drained the contents, and set them aside. She melted butter in a skillet and stirred in some flour for thickening the sauce. The butter-flour mixture turned frothy. It was ready for the milk.

She retrieved the carton, then glanced at the big kettle of water. Steam rose, and with it an odd odor. Bekah carefully lifted the pan and checked the burner—had she neglected to clean off some food particles? But nothing seemed amiss. She set the pan back down and looked around the room, puzzled. The smell was getting stronger by the minute.

A wisp of gray crept from the edge of the oven door. Her heart pounding in alarm, Bekah cracked the door open. Smoke billowed, choking her. Fire! She slammed the door closed and raced around the counter. Grabbing Adri by the hand, she yanked the drowsing little girl from the sofa. “Wake up! We’ve gotta get out of here! Fire!”

Adri started to cry as Bekah dragged her out of the house. Bekah ran into the yard on her bare feet, pulling a wailing Adri beside her. She bellowed, “Mr. Roper! Mr. Roper! I set your house on fire!”