Forevermore by Cathy Marie Hake

off to women who wanna do their baking.”
    Well, at least she knows to do her baking on Saturday. “That’s a fine plan. Annie, we’ll leave after breakfast.”
    Hope cleared the dishes and set bowls of sliced peaches before each of them, then took a pitcher from the icebox. She poured cream from it onto Emmy-Lou’s fruit. “The cream from your cows shore is rich and sweet. Anybody else want some cream on theirs?”
    Phineas and Annie did. Jakob noticed how Hope managed to coax his sister into nibbling a little more. It had to be his imagination, but in the few days since Hope had come, Annie didn’t look quite so thin and pale.
    They said their after-supper prayer; then Jakob and Phineas went back out to take advantage of the longer, lighter evenings. Whenever he happened to be within sight of the yard, he’d glance over. Hope started watering the other half of the garden. If the weather weren’t so hot, he’d worry that she would rot the roots. Surely, though, she hadn’t finished watering when he saw her by the clothesline. Dishcloths, small clothes, and handkerchiefs— but not the sheets. After those items, his bandanas waved in a checkerboard of red-blue-red-blue.
    Naomi always hung the reds together, then the blues.
    Jakob shook his head to dislodge that memory and forced himself to focus on the problem. Even if the housekeeper didn’t know Monday ought to be laundry day, it made no sense that she’d boil the water and do only a small portion of the job. And why in the evening? Things wouldn’t dry before she had to take them down.
    By the time he went back into the house for the night, Emmy-Lou had gone to bed. Annie sat at the table, sticking a threaded needle through string beans she pulled from a colander. She glanced up from her work. “The beans have come ripe.”
    He nodded. From his youngest days, he recalled his mother drying string beans this same way. Blanched, then strung up, the beans would dehydrate. The shriveled beans were nicknamed “leather pants.” All through the winter, they’d be added to stews and casseroles where they’d plump up again and be tender and flavorful. This chore didn’t take much effort, and tired as Annie looked, Jakob felt a flare of relief that Hope found something vital for his sister to do that wouldn’t strain her.
    “Where is Hope?”
    “I’m not sure. She went outside. Maybe the garden or the springhouse. Oh—maybe to visit her mule. She loves Hattie.” Annie set aside the beans and levered herself up. “Did you need something? I should have asked. I’m sorry—”
    “Sit, Annie.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Jakob regretted his sharp tone. He softened his voice. “You have nothing to apologize for. It is good—you making leather pants.”
    She twitched a poor excuse for a smile.
    “How are things going with the new housekeeper?”
    “Okay.”
    Jakob watched as his sister started to chew on her lower lip again. “Annie, I made a point of telling Hope that you’re the woman of my home, and she’ll stay only as long as you want or need her to. If there’s a problem, you only need to tell me so. I’ll take care of it.”
    Annie’s eyes grew huge. “She works hard. It puts me to shame, how little I do. She does all her work and most of mine, too.”
    The way the house looked, Annie was sorely mistaken, but Jakob didn’t dare disagree with her.
    Annie snatched up the needle and frantically started stabbing beans onto the thread. “I’ll try harder. I will. I’m sorry—”
    “Annie, no.” He reached to tilt her face toward him, but she flinched. That instinctive reflex cut him to the core, but he pretended nothing had happened. “Hope’s here to help you, Annie. I’m glad she’s a hard worker. Emmy-Lou sure has taken a shine to her.”
    Annie nodded. “Emmy-Lou loves and trusts as only a child can.”
    His sister’s comment held an unspeakable sadness. Jakob couldn’t reply without making the situation worse, so he