Home to Stay

Those had been the first words she’d spoken to him, the day they met. “No. Well, yes. But only until you are both inside.” And I can be sure Dan will hold his temper.

Frannie leaned toward him, nearly throwing Willa off balance. “Max,” the baby said, arms flapping, “Max!”

“No, no, Frannie,” Willa said, “we need to go home, get you changed, and let Max do the same.” She met his eyes, shook a finger under his nose. “It’s fifty degrees, and you’re soaked to the skin. So go home.”

Her big eyes shone with kindness. If that was her idea of issuing a stern order, she needed a lot more practice.

The baby yawned and snuggled into the crook of her mother’s neck.

“Looks like your little girl could use a nap.”

“You’re right.” Willa started walking, and after a few steps, stopped and faced him. “Did you have a chance to eat at the festival?”

“No.” Between umpiring the ball game and pulling Frannie out of the pond, there hadn’t been time.

“Neither did we. Go home. Change. And come to the Hofmans’. I’ll fix us soup and sandwiches.” She guided Frannie’s hand. “Say bye-bye to Max!”

“B-bye, Max,” the baby said.

He was smiling when Willa turned away from him. “We need to think of something really nice to do for Max,” he heard her say, “to show him how grateful we are that he saved you.”

She’d just turned up the Hofmans’ drive when the wind kicked up, driving a shiver up his back.

Shaking his head, he started the short walk home, slowing when his house came into view. Four single-pane windows flanked the front door. Two more, gleaming from the second story, overlooked the porch roof. During reconstruction, neighbors often asked how he managed, driving an hour or more after eight-hour days on various jobsites, then working until dark on the once-dilapidated cabin. “Would have been easier to bulldoze the eyesore and start over,” Dan once said. A time or two, as Max had dangled from the rafters or teetered on the rooftop, he’d agreed. He’d built all the cabinets, most of the furniture, installed electricity throughout and indoor plumbing in the kitchen, bathroom, and cellar. Now that the place was, for the most part, complete, it took concentrated self-control not to bask in the pride of all he’d accomplished, single-handedly. Better to bask, he thought, climbing the front steps, than wallow in self-pity. In Max’s eyes, both emotions required confession, and there were few things he disliked more than admitting his failings to the ever-critical bishop, Micah Fisher.

Rising before dawn had long been a habit, one that guaranteed ample time to cook up a hearty breakfast and iron the wrinkles out of clothes he’d washed the night before. Now, he traded his white shirt for the blue one he’d pressed yesterday, and after swapping waterlogged boots for dry ones, clipped the spare suspenders to the waistband of his jeans. Since his hair was mostly dry, he only needed to run a comb through it. Max leaned into the mirror, frowning as his palm rasped over the day’s growth of whiskers. He considered shaving, but remembering how Frannie giggled when his chin tickled her palm, decided against it.

When he arrived at the Hofmans’, Willa looked so lovely, standing in the open door, wearing a pale green dress and a smile so sweet that he almost didn’t notice when she stepped aside to invite him inside.

Max removed his hat, held it against his thigh, and followed her to the kitchen table. “Where is everyone?”

“Frannie’s taking a nap, Anki’s in her room, and only God knows where Dan is.”

Her monotone made it clear the situation wasn’t new to her.

What was new, he noticed, were the blinds, rolled up at the top of each window. Somehow, she’d taken down the rollers and covered the vinyl with pale blue fabric. The gray and white linoleum underfoot glistened, and every globe of the wrought-iron fixture above the table sparkled. Each shiny cup and plate on the hutch had been artfully arranged, and on the sideboard sat a basket of fruit that reminded him of a framed still life he’d once seen in the window of an Oakland art gallery. The faint scent of pine oil mingled with the waning sunshine, telling him she’d recently polished the wood cabinets, the grandfather clock, and the table and chairs. He’d been here dozens of times and didn’t remember things looking tidier. Or more welcoming. This was Willa’s work, he knew, not Anki’s.

“Join me for some lemonade?” she said, standing in front of the round-edged refrigerator. “Or, the water’s hot. I can brew us some tea.”

“Lemonade sounds good.”

She pulled out a chair. “Take a load off, Aye-mish, while I set the table.”

Aye-mish. Was that what she called Dan, too? Or had she reserved the nickname for Max?

Grinning, he stepped up to the sink. “I will do it.” He began washing his hands. “It is the least I can do, since you are feeding me.”

“I’ve never been one to turn down a little help.” She turned up the flame under the stewpot, and pointed at the hutch. “You’ll find everything you need on the shelves and in the drawers.”

Max dried his hands and replaced the blue-and-white-checkered towel on the hook beside the sink just as he’d found it: folded three times, longways.

Frannie’s voice floated through the heat grate, and Willa hurried for the stairs. “Make yourself at home. I won’t be long.”

His grandmother had spent hours teaching him and his siblings how to set a proper table. “We must do our best in all things big and small,” she’d said, “to show our heavenly Father that we appreciate the many blessings He has bestowed upon us.”

Max took his time, distributing blue-flowered bowls, and short, heavy-bottomed tumblers. After placing spoons and butter knives atop each cotton napkin, he slid Frannie’s high chair close to the table, then draped a thick terry-cloth bib across the wooden tray. He took inventory: Salt and pepper shakers. Potholder for under the kettle. Butter dish. Nothing missing now, he thought, except the Hofmans, Willa, and Frannie.

A big ladle hung above the stove, and after lifting the pot’s lid, he used it to give the stew a quick stir. Max had just bent to turn down the heat when Willa appeared in the doorway, holding Frannie on her right hip.

“Will you just look at this,” she said.

Max smiled. “Would you like me to pour the lemonade?”

“I have a better idea. How ’bout while I slice the bread, you round up the lady and gentleman of the house?”

“Happy to.”

And he was. For one of the first times since losing his family, Max looked forward to a meal. Now if only he could coax Dan into a cooperative mood. And talk Anki into drying her eyes long enough to eat.

He found the door to Anki’s room open. She sat near the window, staring out at the lawn below. Doubling up his forefinger, he rapped on the doorframe.

“Anki . . .”

Except for a half-hearted nod, she didn’t move. He entered and stopped several feet from the window seat.

“. . . supper’s almost ready.”

“I am not hungry.”

“No one asked whether or not you are hungry.”

They both jumped a bit at the suddenness of Dan’s voice.

“The food is ready and you will eat it.” Arms crossed, he lifted his chin. “You know how I feel about waste.” Almost as an afterthought, he tacked on, “And self-pity.”

Shoulders slumped, she exhaled a weary sigh. “All right. Just as soon as I tidy my braid.”

Dan growled under his breath and started for the stairs. “Are you coming?” he asked Max.

“After a quick trip to the bathroom.” First, Max wanted to speak with Anki. Perhaps he could help her understand that, despite his rough ways, her husband loved her.

* * *

He waited until Dan was out of sight, then turned the desk chair around and sat down. Arms resting on the chair’s top rail, he said, “He cares about you, you know.”

She met his eyes. “He told you that?”

“Not in so many words, but I work alongside him for hours at a time. I can tell that he is worried about you.”

“Work beside him!” Anki shook her head. “You are on the road half the time, drumming up business in Oakland, in Martinsburg, in Cumberland.”

She had him dead to rights, but Max couldn’t let her change the subject.

“The man has a rough exterior—I will give you that. But he cares about you.”

“Has he told you the reason for my . . .” She snorted. “. . . for my depression?”

This didn’t seem to be the time to mention how long they’d tried—and failed—to have children.

“I know he wanted a son . . .” she went on. “That he would have settled for a daughter if he had to. It saddens me that I have disappointed him.”

“I’m sure you haven’t—”

“I cannot give him a family.”

“But Anki, you are Dan’s family.”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I am praying, day and night, asking for forgiveness.”

“For what!”

“My disobedience.” Hands clenched in her lap, she sighed again. “It should not be this hard to accept God’s will.”

Max had stayed behind to tell her that Dan cared about her; if he could convince her that others believed that, too, perhaps it would be enough to shake her free of her ever-present sadness. If he’d had any idea things would go this far afield ...

Should have learned by now what happens when you speak before you think.

He got to his feet. “Willa’s stew smells delicious. We should eat now, before it gets cold.”

“Yes.” She stood, too. “Yes, you are right. And ... and Dan would not be pleased if we missed the prayer time.”

When they entered the kitchen, Willa avoided eye contact. He didn’t know her well ... just well enough to know that wasn’t like her.

Dan, in place at the head of the table, waited for the rest of them to sit.

Frannie slapped both palms on her highchair tray. “Dan eat?”

Much to Max’s surprise, his partner winked, leaned closer to the baby, and said, “Yes, sweet girl. Dan will eat. And so will Mama, and Max, and Anki . . .” He tapped the tip of her nose. “. . . and Frannie!”

Her giggles filled the room, and not even Anki could keep from smiling.

“We should pray,” Dan said.

All eyes closed; all heads bowed. Peeking through the narrow slit between his lids, Max saw Frannie’s lashes fluttering as she struggled to emulate the adults. She was an easy child to like, he thought. Very easy.

In the moment that passed as each silently prayed, Max wondered what kind of father would let go of a child so sweet? And what sort of man could let a woman like Willa slip away from him? If the Almighty ever saw fit to bless him with a wife and child, he hoped they’d be like Willa and Frannie.

The steady tick-tick of the grandfather clock kept time with his heartbeats, and then Dan cleared his throat. Willa looked up, as did Anki. And Frannie? Frannie’s exuberant “E-e-eat!” inspired a round of laughter.

He looked at Anki, expecting to find her smiling, too. Instead, the woman balanced a slice of bread on one palm, using the other hand to wield the butter knife.

Max shook pepper onto his stew. “I will drive to Johnstown in the morning,” he told Dan. “God willing, we will have a contract for a small housing development by this time tomorrow.”

“Is our license renewed for Pennsylvania?”

“It is.”

“How long a drive?”

“Hour and a half, if we leave early enough to miss rush hour traffic.”

Dan bit off a corner of buttered bread. “A whole development, eh?” he said around it.

“Only ten or fifteen houses, if the developer can sell every lot.”

“We will need the whole crew.”

“If no one gets sick, I believe we can get by with four. Leave the other four to finish up projects closer to home.”

“Where do you stand with the Bakers’ addition?”

Max nodded. “Only a bit of trim to paint. Phillip said if we are pressed for time, he and Gabe will do it.”

Dan harrumphed. “Have I ever not finished a job?”

“No, but . . .”

If the man paid half as much attention to his wife’s well-being, Max thought, she wouldn’t spend her days moping around the house. But then ... Dan wouldn’t have hired Willa to help her....

Anki took advantage of the lull in the conversation to say, “I saw you talking with Emily Baker today, Willa. Are you all right?”

Automatically, she blanketed the woman’s hand with her own. “Yes, of course, and so is Frannie. Emily just stopped by to ask if I’d do her a favor.”

Dan snorted. “What sort of favor?”

If Willa detected his disbelieving attitude, she gave no sign of it. Admirable, Max thought. He’d been on the receiving end of that caustic sarcasm and knew only too well that it wasn’t easy to ignore.

“She needs some help with the bookkeeping, the appointments schedule, tidying up around the place ... you know, things like that. Best of all, I can bring Frannie with me. She can play with little Rafe. That’s short for Raphael. Just five more sons and they’ll have all seven angels of God!”

Anki shrank back, no doubt asking herself why He’d blessed the Bakers with two sons, while she and Dan had none. For a second or two, no one spoke. Were Dan and Willa wondering the same thing?

“Don’t worry, Anki, working for Emily won’t interfere with my responsibilities around here. I promise.”

Taking her seat again, Anki said, “I am glad, because I . . .” She looked at her husband. “We need you, don’t we, Dan.”

Wiping the butter from Frannie’s bread from his face, he forced a stern expression. “I have no complaints about your work.” He cleared his throat. “I would not object if you stayed.” Now, he focused on Willa. “But it is more than a mile from here to the clinic. How will you get there?”

Willa sat up straighter. “I have two perfectly healthy legs, and . . . and comfortable shoes. I’ll walk!”

Dan didn’t look convinced. “Carrying Frannie?”

At the mention of her name, the baby said, “Dan!”

His features relaxed and he softened his tone as she wrapped chubby fingers around his thumb. “That might be fine when the weather is good. What will you do when it rains? When the snows come? You have not been here during the winter. It can get brutal, let me tell you!”

She hadn’t considered that. Max could see it on her face, in her posture. And then he had an idea....

“Do you have a driver’s license?”

She gave him a look that said, Sure.

“Good, good. And can you operate a vehicle with manual transmission?”

“Hmpf. I’ll have you know that my mom taught me to drive in an adorable little red pickup truck—”

Her hand floated in the air, mimicking the positions of the gearshift. If Max was a betting man, he would have wagered that under the table, her booted foot was pressing an imaginary clutch to the floor, too.

“That was a long time ago, though. . . .” Eyes narrowed, she asked, “Why?”

“I have an old truck out back. It is small, but reliable. I can give you a few lessons, if you like, to help you remember how to—”

“I appreciate the offer, Max, really I do. But I can’t afford a vehicle right now.”

“Never said I want to sell it.”

Her brow furrowed with a confused frown. “I can’t afford to rent it, either.”

“It is not good for a motor to sit, unused that way. You would be doing me a favor, driving it to and from work.”

If Willa accepted, he’d have to give the vehicle a thorough going-over, checking belts and hoses, topping off fluids, testing the tires’ air pressure and the flexibility of the windshield wipers. He’d make sure the battery terminals weren’t corroded, and because it had sat covered in the shed for months, it would need a good cleaning, inside and out.

She was considering the offer. Max could tell by the way she sat, alternately nodding and shaking her head, biting her lower lip. He searched his mind for the words that would convince her, because he wanted to help her, any way he could.

“Dan is right,” he said. “Walking all that way with Frannie in tow will be difficult, especially when the road is covered by feet of snow.”

“That much, huh? Well, I lived in Philly. And Baltimore. Chicago before that, so—”

“So you know all about below-zero temperatures, and mountain winds strong enough to overturn wagons . . .”

“Well, no, but . . .”

“I can hardly wait to hear what follows this but,” Dan put in, chuckling.

To her credit, Willa didn’t allow the comment to sidetrack her. Max didn’t know how she’d respond to it, but he hadn’t expected her to say, “What’s in it for you, Maximillian Lambright?”

“I, ah, well . . .”

“Life has taught me that if something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. So . . . what’s in it for you?”

He reminded himself that she’d been on her own for years, that she’d fled an abusive beau. Max could only imagine what she thought he’d demand of her if she said yes.

“I suppose you will just have to take me at my word: I expect nothing except . . .” Grinning, he winked. “Except that you drive the speed limit.”

That inspired soft laughter. “Yeah, right. Like I could speed, even if I wanted to, in Pleasant Valley.”

Now that he thought of it, the warning did sound a bit comical. The community’s main road was paved, but hardly qualified as a raceway. “It’s true that the truck is not registered. Has no license plates. No insurance. But that isn’t the main reason I—”

“Now I get it,” she interrupted. “If a cop stops me, you’re in for a big fat fine.”

“Goeie genade, Willa. You could at least pretend to feel grateful.”

“Dan is right,” Anki agreed. “Max makes a very generous offer.”

Frannie, pounding on the high chair’s tray, demanded a slice of bread, and Willa accommodated her. Now, with fingers and lips butter-shiny, she said, “Yum!”

When Dan laughed, she extended her arm. “Dan eat?”

He surprised them all when he leaned closer and allowed her to hold the bread to his mouth. After pretending to take a bite, he said, “Yum!”

But Frannie wasn’t fooled. “Dan eat!” she scolded.

He took a bite, and in the ensuing quiet, Max focused on Willa. “So what do you say? Will you help me out and drive the truck for a while?”

It took a moment for her to say, “I suppose it makes sense. But let’s get one thing straight.” She scooted her chair closer to his, so close that their knees touched under the table. “First of all, I’ll pay for the gas and oil.”

She was close enough to kiss. If Dan and Anki hadn’t been here, would he? As if she’d read his mind, Willa licked her lips. “And second?” he asked.

“When I think of a way to repay you, that’s exactly what I intend to do. And you won’t be allowed to object.” She sat back and, arms crossed, looked at Anki, at Dan. “You two are my witnesses.”

Smirking, Dan said, “Oh, this is gonna be an interesting couple of months. Real interesting.”

And Anki laughed, surprising them all.