Alex could see roiling dust in the air long before they reached Dawson’s fields. Dixon stopped at the top of a low rise to look down upon the scene. Combines churned in the fields like prehistoric monsters, chewing up the swaths of grain. Trucks lined the sides of the fields, ready to take their turns hauling the harvested grain away.

“That’s impressive,” Alex breathed.

“There are so many rigs here that they should have everything that’s ripe picked up tonight,” Dixon said. “Believe it or not, Jacob Olson is driving my rig. He never comes off that farm, but he’s comfortable in the cab of a tractor, so Clarence called me. He said that he was driving their machinery and Jacob wondered if he could drive for me. Watch, when we stop for supper, Jacob will disappear rather than eat with the rest of us. Then I’ll drive for the rest of the evening.”

“Emmy, are you going to haul grain?”

“No. There are plenty of trucks to keep up. I’ll probably help with the meal. And you,” she added, “can say the mealtime prayer.”

Feeling only slightly less useless than before, Alex nodded. Everything was like a well-choreographed dance. The combines were circling, trucks were dodging purposefully this way and that, and in one corner of the field the women had gathered. They’d put out a string of card tables covered with red-and-white–checked paper tablecloths. The tables were filled with coolers, slow cookers and plastic containers.

“It’s as if everyone knows exactly what to do.”

Dixon laughed. “Of course they do. Those women can whip up a feast in no time flat.” He parked the vehicle.

Emmy immediately saw someone she knew, and the two were hugging and chatting within seconds.

“I’ll never get her home once she starts gabbing,” Dixon said mournfully. “I can’t see why she won’t move back. I understand that she has a great job but…”

“And a boyfriend.”

“Yeah. I haven’t scoped that out yet. She’s had him for a while, but I’ve never met him. Maybe it’s more serious than she let’s on. Too bad.”

Too bad, indeed, Alex thought. Tragic, in fact. Hilltop would be an even more interesting place with Emmy Daniels in residence.

As they watched the activity, Alex’s cell phone rang. He picked it up to hear Natalie’s voice on the other end of the line.

“How are you? I’ve been waiting to hear from you forever.” Natalie sounded playful and happy, which reminded Alex of the good times they’d had together. “What are you doing?”

He explained in detail the threshing bee, the pristine afternoon and the portable banquet the church women had prepared.

“Just like a scene out of a television show I saw once on public television. Did Nancy bring any of her wonderful cookies?”

“Everything she makes is wonderful.”

“It’s a wonder you don’t weigh three hundred pounds, living out there. I’d better let you get back to what you’re doing.”

She was careful not to push, for which Alex was grateful.

At that moment Mattie Olsen trotted over carrying a 9x13 pan of chocolate cake. She held it out to Alex. “I know how you love chocolate. Would you like an appetizer before dinner?”

He slipped the phone into his pocket, took the napkin Mattie offered him and helped himself to cake. He took a bite and closed his eyes. Chocolate bliss. He made Mattie stand still so he could take a second piece when he finished the first.

At seven o’clock Nancy Jenkins laid on the horn of her car, signaling that it was time to stop working and start eating.

Field dust mixed with laughter and stories seasoned the meal. Alex was reminded of the loaves and fishes. The serving bowls never got empty even though everyone, stimulated by the fresh air, ate twice what they normally would. He guessed there would still be twelve baskets left over.

Emmy joined him and Dixon as they sat on the ground, leaning against the tires of Dixon’s pickup. “How does it taste?”

“Like ambrosia,” Alex said. “Best food I’ve ever tasted—and that’s saying a lot.”

“Oh, ambrosia,” Dixon said and got to his feet. “I think I saw some of that on the table somewhere. I’ll be right back.”

“You’d think he’d weigh four hundred pounds the way he eats,” Emmy said lightly. “I guess he works it off.”

“There’s an amazing work ethic out here.”

“I agree.” Emmy stirred a melting puddle of red gelatin and canned mixed fruit.

“Why don’t you move back?”

She frowned. Even a frown looked pretty on Emmy. “I do hate to see this place without a Doc Ambrose.”

“We’re working on it.” Sadly, the news so far was all bad. The committee members had already run into a half-dozen dead ends. They were now contacting medical schools about upcoming graduates. The only thing Alex was sure of was that this might be a long, tedious and perhaps doomed project.

She rose and held out her hand to Alex. “Come with me. You haven’t even seen the dessert table yet.”

Just as Alex took Emmy’s hand and rose to his feet, Lolly Roscoe appeared. She was carrying a huge tray of cupcakes decorated with chocolate frosting and candy corn. She tripped to a halt, nearly spilling cupcakes all over the ground. Alex reached out and steadied the tray.

“Careful, those look too good to waste.”

But Lolly wasn’t looking at Alex. She was staring at Emmy as if she’d seen a ghost. “You,” she whispered. Then she turned accusing eyes to Alex. He felt as if he’d been caught in the act of doing something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Hand in the cookie jar? Then it hit him. It was worse than that—his hand was in Emmy’s. That dart-filled gaze of Lolly’s was jealousy!

“Hi, Lolly, good to see you. These look great.” Emmy dropped his hand, took a cupcake off the tray and sauntered toward the food tables. Alex grabbed one as he hurried after her.

When he caught up to Emmy, she whistled softly. “Woo-hoo. If looks could kill I’d be on the ground. Lolly considers other women her competition. I saw how she looked at you. She’s got it bad where you’re concerned.”

“I haven’t encouraged her in any way. She just…likes me, that’s all.”

“You are as dense as my brother Dixon,” Emmy said brightly, “no offense.”

“None taken, but I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t have to do anything. You’re the right age, handsome, single, intelligent, articulate, athletic—just existing puts you on Lolly’s list. She’s a nice woman who hasn’t had much luck meeting a man. When you came to town I’ll bet she did cartwheels.”

Alex, feeling awkward at being at the center of Emmy’s appraisal, blushed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“That was jealousy in her eyes when she saw us together, Alex. Pure and simple.”

He knew she was right, and he had no idea what to do about it. He followed her as they assessed the dessert table piled with pies, cakes, bars and cookies. He’d never seen so much chocolate and coconut in one place, outside a bakery or a candy store.

“What should I do?” he asked as he trailed Emmy back to their spot. “About Lolly, I mean. I don’t want to encourage her. I’m not looking for a wife.”

“No?” Emmy gave him a gauging glance. “Never?”

His thoughts drifted to Natalie.

“Be kind,” Emily advised.

“I am kind. That doesn’t seem to be working very well.”

Emmy tipped her head back to look at him. “Then you’re on your own. Just don’t get your foot caught in any traps.”

“You’re a big help,” Alex groused.

“Who’s my sister helping?” Dixon asked. He was carrying a large pan with a cover.

“Not me,” Alex grumbled.

“I’m giving him advice on how not to become Lolly’s next boyfriend.”

Dixon shook his head. “I wish she would find someone—just not me—or Mark—or Alex.”

“What are you carrying?” Alex asked, hoping to change the subject. He was unaccustomed to having his date-ability assessed in such a frank manner.

“Food for Lila. She hasn’t been out of the hospital long. I thought I’d run over and check on her.”

“Come to think of it, Tilly Tanner isn’t here either.”

“I’ll get another container and we’ll come with you, Dixon,” Emmy said. “It won’t take long and I know both the ladies would love some of this wonderful food.”

In a few minutes, they were back in the pickup, heading toward Lila Mason’s place.

When they arrived, the house was locked up tight, but the porch light was burning. All the shades were pulled, but every light inside the house was on. Alex and Dixon exchanged a confused glance. They knocked on the door several times before a window shade fluttered slightly and through the sliver of an opening one eye peered. Lila.

Then, from the inside, they heard scurrying motions, and the door flew open. Lila, in a pair of men’s overalls and bedroom slippers, put her hands to her heart. “I’m so glad it’s you!”

“Who did you think it was?” Dixon stepped into the house and quickly surveyed the room. Alex and Emmy followed. Alex immediately glanced at the stove and counters for open food containers.

“I thought the burglar was back.”

More of Lila’s imaginings, thought Alex.

“I was in the basement—it’s not much of one, you know, more like a root cellar and a place for the furnace, but I was seeing what canned goods I had left down there, when I heard someone walking around upstairs. I quietly closed the trapdoor to the cellar. Fortunately, I had a flashlight with me. I just waited. The footsteps moved around for quite some time and then I began to hear things crashing to the floor. Oh! It was awful! Even after the footsteps stopped, I must have stayed in the root cellar nearly two hours. I didn’t know who it was or what he wanted. When I came upstairs I found this.”

Lila turned and gestured toward the rest of the house. Everything was overturned, tables, chairs and lamps. Drawers were open and their contents spilled out. Pictures were tipped on the walls and even flowerpots upended. The place had been ransacked.

This was obviously not of Lila’s doing. The place looked like the scene of a crime.

“Is anything missing?” Dixon asked.

“I was just going to check to see,” the little woman said. “I pulled the curtains and barricaded the doors because I was afraid he might come back.”

“This is one for the police, Lila. Let’s leave everything as it is until they get here.” Alex put his arm around the woman’s shoulders. They were quaking with nerves and fear. “We brought you supper. Why don’t you sit down and eat it.”

“In fact,” Dixon said when he got off his cell phone, “Emmy can make you a cup of tea and I’ll sit with you while we wait for the police. Then Alex and Emmy can deliver food to Tillie Tanner and come right back. How does that sound?”

Lila’s eyes brightened. She looked less befuddled than she had in a long while. “Very nice. Tillie isn’t doing very well. She needs a good meal.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Alex said. “Has she been ill?”

“She never admits feeling under the weather,” Lila said as she watched Dixon open the food they’d brought. “She thinks that makes her sound old.” Lila gave a snort. “She is old, of course, but she won’t admit it. We were in school together, but I have strict instructions not to say much about that.”

Alex hid a smile. “We’ll check on her while Dixon takes care of you and the police. We’ll be back soon.”

“Dixon told me how sick Lila made herself eating old food,” Emmy said as they drove the two and a half miles to Tillie’s place.

“I worry about these elderly people,” Alex admitted. “They are so proud, independent and determined to stay in their own homes. Unfortunately, no one is really in charge of checking on them. Dixon’s a saint as far as that’s concerned, but he shouldn’t have that responsibility on his shoulders alone. Besides Lila and Tillie, there’s Bessie Bruun to think of. Her sister Brunie worries about her a lot.”

“Maybe your church should have a nurse. Some do, you know.”

“Right. I wish we could, but we can’t. We’re glad just to cover expenses.”

They pulled into Tillie’s yard. It was a hodgepodge of brightly painted birdhouses, flags and pinwheel gadgets that moved with the wind. Colorful, like Tillie herself.

The door was open and they could hear a nearby radio station reporting on hog and cattle futures in the background, but Tillie didn’t appear. Finally, Emmy opened the screen door and walked inside.

As Alex glanced around the house, his chest tightened. Tillie’s dishes and pillows were also bright reds, greens and purples, and she’d cut vibrant multihued pictures out of magazines and put them in cheap frames. There were lots of plants and plastic flowers decorating the space, but the furniture had many years of hard use and chairs were arranged in an attempt to hide wear marks in the rug. Everything indicated one more elderly woman was barely making ends meet, yet doing her best to keep up appearances so that no one would pity her. These dear ladies made his heart swell with affection and an urgency to do something to make their lives easier.

“Alex, come here!” Emmy called from the back bedroom.

There he saw another distressing tableau. Tillie, pale as snow beneath her bright red hair, was lying crosswise on the bed as if she’d fallen there and couldn’t negotiate herself into a more comfortable position. Her lips were dry, but she was trying to speak. Alex couldn’t hear what she was saying until he bent so close that his ear was just over her mouth. She looked every bit her eighty years despite her incongruous red hair.

“Heart attack, I think… Help…”

“Call an ambulance. I’ll see what I can do to make her comfortable.” Again, Emmy slipped into nursing mode. Alex backed out of the room as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

Next, he called Doc Ambrose, but his answering machine picked up. “This is the Ambrose residence. We’re out of town for a couple of days. If you have a medical question, please call the Wheatland Clinic at…” Grimly, he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. Here was another taste of what it would be like when Doc left.

“Alex, she wants you.” Emmy was by the bed, holding Tillie’s hand. Emmy had managed to make her more comfortable and was daubing the woman’s parched lips with water.

Alex took Tillie’s hand. “Don’t strain yourself talking to me. We can visit when you get to the hospital.”

For someone so ill, she clung to his hand with remarkable strength. “Have to tell you…” The words were faint. “Want you to know I’m okay with Jesus.”

Tears sprang to the backs of Alex’s eyes. Here she was, practically on her deathbed and ministering to him! “He’s got you in His hands, Tillie. He loves you and He died for you.”

“I know.” A sweet smile spread over her features. She closed her eyes. They sat together for several minutes before she opened them again. “Pastor?”

“I’m here, Tillie.”

“I want to confess.”

He held her hand tighter. “Yes?”

“I’m really eighty, not sixty-five.”

Alex felt as though his heart had shattered and fallen about like shards of broken glass.

The ambulance arrived, this time to carry Tillie to the Wheatville hospital.

“I’m going to ride with her,” Emmy told him. “Pick Dixon up at Lila’s and tell him to get me at the hospital later. I want to see that she gets everything she needs.”

He watched helplessly as the ambulance sped away, growing smaller and smaller, until it disappeared.

“Lord,” he prayed aloud, “be with all these dear people. You are the Great Physician and You are able to give them all they need—strength, healing and peace. And let me know what You want me to do for them. Let me minister to them in the way You would have me do it.” Almost as an afterthought, Alex heard himself add, “Help.”