her voice would allow her to defend herself, but there was something more. Miriam’s mind flashed back to the three times she’d caught students teasing the young girl. Each time it had only been little singsong names, and twice other children had rushed to Grace’s defense before Miriam had managed to intervene. What else had she seen?
A turtle! That was it.
She sat up in bed in the pitch-dark room, the connection so perfect that she wanted to clap her hands and wake Esther. She wanted to share it with someone.
Grace’s attitude each time had been that of a box turtle. Shoulders slumped, head down, body turned slightly—it was as if she’d thought she might be able to disappear, and then the others would leave her alone.
Yes, Miriam wanted to help Grace find her voice.
But in order to do that, she first needed to help Grace find her confidence.
Lying back down and turning over to her right side, she suddenly had two good ideas for how to accomplish both things. The question was whether Gabe would allow it.
Gabe rose well before daylight, which had been his custom in Indiana. The only thing that had changed since their move to Wisconsin was he had twice the work to accomplish each day.
Pulling his suspenders over his shoulders and then reaching for his coat, he trudged through the kitchen. He paused long enough to look longingly at the kaffi pot on the stove, but decided he didn’t have the time.
The forecast called for snow, possibly record amounts. He was hoping the repairs he’d done to the roof of the barn would hold, but it would depend on how much snow fell and how heavy it was.
Glowering at the dilapidated structure as he tramped toward it, he decided he’d like to meet the man who built it. He’d happily give him a free lesson in construction, especially construction for northern climates.
First off, the pitch was wrong. It was much too flat and couldn’t possibly stand the weight of a heavy snowfall. Apparently it hadn’t stood the weight in the past, which would account for the portion of the roof that had fallen in. Why it had never been repaired was another question.
The house had stood empty for nearly a year, according to the Realtor who sold it to him. Though it was dirty from misuse, it was fundamentally sound. The amount of damage in the barn could not have occurred in twelve months. Had the previous owner stopped farming before he’d moved? How long had the structure been abandoned? And why?
Gabe was late returning from the barn, which justified burning breakfast—again. At least it did in his mind, and Grace didn’t complain. She didn’t complain verbally. She did squirrel up her nose and leave half of the oatmeal in her bowl, but then again, maybe she wasn’t hungry.
Sometimes he interpreted her silence in his favor.
Today he’d give himself a break because the snow was still falling and the roof on his barn hadn’t fixed itself.
“Ready for school?”
Grace nodded and ran for her coat, pausing at the back door long enough to retrieve Miriam’s basket, which had held last night’s dinner.
It wasn’t until they were halfway down the lane that he noticed she’d put on a few pounds since breakfast—quite a few.
“What’s under the coat?”
She gave him her most innocent, wide-eyed look.
“That might work with someone who hasn’t known you all your life, Grace Ann, but it won’t work with your dat. What’s under the coat?”
As her luck would have it, Eli’s buggy pulled up at the end of the lane, and Grace tugged on his hand.
“I don’t want you to be late either,” Gabe agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with what you’re doing.”
He allowed her to pull him toward the horses and buggy. Because they were the farthest farm from the school, Grace was the first student picked up and the last one dropped off, other than Eli’s own kids. They sat at the windows, waving at his daughter as she hurried up the steps.
“Hold
A turtle! That was it.
She sat up in bed in the pitch-dark room, the connection so perfect that she wanted to clap her hands and wake Esther. She wanted to share it with someone.
Grace’s attitude each time had been that of a box turtle. Shoulders slumped, head down, body turned slightly—it was as if she’d thought she might be able to disappear, and then the others would leave her alone.
Yes, Miriam wanted to help Grace find her voice.
But in order to do that, she first needed to help Grace find her confidence.
Lying back down and turning over to her right side, she suddenly had two good ideas for how to accomplish both things. The question was whether Gabe would allow it.
Gabe rose well before daylight, which had been his custom in Indiana. The only thing that had changed since their move to Wisconsin was he had twice the work to accomplish each day.
Pulling his suspenders over his shoulders and then reaching for his coat, he trudged through the kitchen. He paused long enough to look longingly at the kaffi pot on the stove, but decided he didn’t have the time.
The forecast called for snow, possibly record amounts. He was hoping the repairs he’d done to the roof of the barn would hold, but it would depend on how much snow fell and how heavy it was.
Glowering at the dilapidated structure as he tramped toward it, he decided he’d like to meet the man who built it. He’d happily give him a free lesson in construction, especially construction for northern climates.
First off, the pitch was wrong. It was much too flat and couldn’t possibly stand the weight of a heavy snowfall. Apparently it hadn’t stood the weight in the past, which would account for the portion of the roof that had fallen in. Why it had never been repaired was another question.
The house had stood empty for nearly a year, according to the Realtor who sold it to him. Though it was dirty from misuse, it was fundamentally sound. The amount of damage in the barn could not have occurred in twelve months. Had the previous owner stopped farming before he’d moved? How long had the structure been abandoned? And why?
Gabe was late returning from the barn, which justified burning breakfast—again. At least it did in his mind, and Grace didn’t complain. She didn’t complain verbally. She did squirrel up her nose and leave half of the oatmeal in her bowl, but then again, maybe she wasn’t hungry.
Sometimes he interpreted her silence in his favor.
Today he’d give himself a break because the snow was still falling and the roof on his barn hadn’t fixed itself.
“Ready for school?”
Grace nodded and ran for her coat, pausing at the back door long enough to retrieve Miriam’s basket, which had held last night’s dinner.
It wasn’t until they were halfway down the lane that he noticed she’d put on a few pounds since breakfast—quite a few.
“What’s under the coat?”
She gave him her most innocent, wide-eyed look.
“That might work with someone who hasn’t known you all your life, Grace Ann, but it won’t work with your dat. What’s under the coat?”
As her luck would have it, Eli’s buggy pulled up at the end of the lane, and Grace tugged on his hand.
“I don’t want you to be late either,” Gabe agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with what you’re doing.”
He allowed her to pull him toward the horses and buggy. Because they were the farthest farm from the school, Grace was the first student picked up and the last one dropped off, other than Eli’s own kids. They sat at the windows, waving at his daughter as she hurried up the steps.
“Hold
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