Hannah's Joy by Marta Perry

shut the door of the wagon that carried benches from house to house or barn to barn for worship every other Sunday. “Denke, William.”
    “G-gut to have it d-done, ja?” Most folks liked hosting worship, but felt relief at knowing their turn wouldn’t come around again for a year.
    “For sure,” Gideon said. “Maybe Rachel will stop her cleaning now. She even wanted to shine every window in the greenhouses.”
    “L-looks fine.” Rachel had started with one small greenhouse for her plants, but her business had gone well and now there were two.
    “I did that, Onkel Will.” Joseph, Rachel’s boy, had approached in time to hear what his stepfather had said. “I shined every window. Even the high ones.”
    “You’re g-getting so big you’ll soon d-do it without a ladder.”
    He smiled at the boy, but with a small pang in his heart. Joseph was almost nine now, and it seemed he looked more like his daad each year that passed. In his blue shirt and black vest, he was a replica of Ezra dressed for worship at that age.
    “You did a fine job, Joseph,” Gideon said, snatching off Joseph’s straw hat to ruffle his fine hair, and then plopping it back on again. “You made your mamm happy.”
    Joseph, who had a tender heart, looked gratified at that, and he leaned against Gideon for a moment.
    It was a fine thing, that Gideon was so close to his stepchildren. Fine, too, that he always made William feel he was still part of the family. Some men would not be so generous.
    “I’m going to check on my goats,” Joseph announced. “And Mammi said to tell you there’s more lemonade on the porch. You’ll see the goats before you go, Onkel Will, ja?”
    “For sure,” William said, turning to follow Gideon toward the house.
    “Stay and have supper after the rest of the folks leave,” Gideon urged. “The kinder want to spend time with you.”
    “D-denke.” They passed a small knot of men, Isaac included, still talking. “Y-y-you are g-g-gut to include m-me.” His tongue always seemed to get tangled when he tried to say what he felt. “D-denke.”
    Gideon seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “I love them,” he said simply. “How could I be jealous of someone who loves them, too?”
    “S-some would.”
    Gideon shook his head. “Then I’d feel sorry for them, to be so selfish.”
    Rachel came out on the porch, carrying the baby, and Gideon’s face lit up. He covered the distance in one long stride and tickled his son under the chin. Josiah chuckled, the sound surprisingly deep for a baby. Gideon looked at Rachel and a message seemed to pass between them, something that didn’t need words. He went on into the house, leaving William with Rachel.
    “Josiah, here is Onkel William.” Rachel bounced the boppli and then plopped him in William’s arms.
    He automatically tightened his grip on the fat little bundle. “Not r-really h-his onkel,” he said.
    “Don’t talk so foolish.” Rachel’s soft smile took any sting from the words. “You are my little bruder, just like always. You know that, don’t you?”
    His heart warmed. “Ja.”
    “Is something wrong?” A small line appeared between her eyes.
    He shrugged. Sitting on the porch rail, he bounced the boppli on his knee, and Josiah squealed. “Just b-busy.”
    Rachel nodded. “I heard Isaac’s been working you a lot lately. Is it causing trouble with Caleb?”
    “Caleb’s f-fine. I just w-wish . . .” He let that die away, because there was no point in it.
    “You’d like to be working full-time with Caleb, wouldn’t you? I know Caleb would like that, too. He’s always saying what gut work you do.” Rachel usually seemed able to guess what he was thinking. “Why don’t you tell Isaac that?”
    He shrugged again, not wanting to say anything that sounded like a criticism of his brother.
    “Isaac is a gut man,” Rachel said carefully. “I could never forget how he helped me when I needed it. But I would not let him decide what