Love’s Journey Home by Kelly Irvin Page A

a grassfire fueled by
     kerosene. “Answer me when I speak to you.” He forced himself to tap down the flames.
     “Turn around and look at me.”
    Daniel turned, then stood with the deliberate air of appeasement. He gripped a pencil
     in one hand, his long fingers white at the knuckles, and a sheaf of paper in the other.
    “We’ve chores to do and repairs to make.” Gabriel managed to keep his tone even. “We
     need to earn our keep around here. Help out in exchange for such generous hospitality.”
    “I know.” Daniel ducked his head, his dark, shaggy hair falling into his walnut-colored
     eyes. He needed a haircut. Laura would’ve cut it for him. “I’m on my way.”
    “Doesn’t look like it. What are you doing?”
    Daniel stuffed the papers under his pillow and tugged in a jerky motion at the green
     and blue quilt until it covered the white pillowcase. “Writing a letter.”
    “To Phoebe. You’ve heard from her, then?”
    “Jah. A letter came yesterday.”
    Gabriel shifted his feet. He lifted his hat and settled it back on his head. They’d
     talked about this back in Dahlburg. They’d talked some more on the long drive to Kansas
     and Bliss Creek. The family needed to stay together. Phoebe’s parents didn’t wish
     her to leave home. Not at such a young age. If they were meant to be together, two
     more years wouldn’t hurt. Separation would make their relationship stronger. It would
     make Daniel stronger. He had a softer, more sensitive nature than his brothers. At
     least that’s what Laura had always said. Give him room to be himself, she’d said.
     He wasn’t Isaac and Samuel. No, because Isaac and Samuel were like Gabriel, and Daniel
     more like his mother. “She’ll be happy to hear how well things are going here.”
    “She misses me. She stays home all the time.”
    “I know this is hard, son, but you will see Phoebe again.”
    Daniel’s head came up. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Jah.”
    “We best get out to the corral. The storm knocked down some of the fence and damaged
     the barn roof. It looks like some shingles are missing from the house’s roof too.
     There’s work to be done.”
    His face still glum, Daniel nodded. He grabbed his hat from the hook on the wall and
     strode past Gabriel without looking at him. He’d grown two or three inches in the
     last few months, such that he was taller than Gabriel now, but he had the scrawny
     arms and legs of a boy whose body couldn’t keep up with the growth spurt. He kept
     his gaze glued to the floor. Gabriel started to pat his shoulder, but thought better
     of it. His son was a man now, not one needing comfort from his father. His hand hung
     in the air for a second, then he let it drop to his side. Daniel wouldn’t appreciate
     being treated like a child. Even though Gabriel could still see him rolling around
     on the back of the hay wagon, so short the hay bales towered over him. A little helper,
     he’d been. The first to whistle, the last to whine.
    Daniel studied the staircase banister. “You coming?”
    “Coming.”
    Outside, without speaking, Daniel veered toward the barn, and Gabriel trudged to the
     corral where Isaac replaced a frayed harness so he could hitch the wagon. Gabriel
     inhaled the cool, slightly damp morning air, reminding himself to count this blessing.
     Once the sun came up, the heat would blister his skin and lungs. The rain of the previous
     evening had increased in fury throughout the night, bringing with it high winds and
     hail. It had cleared the air of the stifling humidity, but left behind downed branches,
     debris, and muck. Shingles scattered on the gravel road in front of Thomas’s house
     suggested his roof had not fared well in the onslaught of rain and hail. Even if they
     couldn’t get into the fields to harvest the wheat—if there was anything left to harvest—they
     would still have plenty of work to do.
    “Daed, I want to go into town later this morning. I need to take a look