Rachel's Garden by Marta Perry Page A

of subject. He could see her scrambling to come up with an answer.
    “I ... I was thinking that maybe it doesn’t make so much sense to start the greenhouse right now. I mean, the frost danger will be over in another month, and I probably wouldn’t get much use from it for a while. If you have other projects to do first—”
    He kept a rein on his temper. Rachel had been a pliant girl, and she’d always seemed eager to do as Ezra wanted. Now it seemed she didn’t want to be told what to do, and he wouldn’t fall into the same mistake that Isaac made in dealing with her.
    “Now is the perfect time to get on with the greenhouse. My leg’s not up to the high work on windmills yet, but I can certainly handle a greenhouse.”
    He wasn’t going to tell her the rest of it—his sense that if only he could start doing something for her and her kinder, he’d ease the weight of responsibility that he felt each time he thought of Ezra.
    Her face had tightened with the reminder of his injury, but she gave a jerky nod. “Makes sense, I guess. It’s getting chilly. Komm inside. We can work there.”
    Success, of a sort, he supposed. He followed her into the haus, and Mary trailed after them, crooning a soft lullaby to her imaginary infant.
    Obeying Rachel’s gesture, he spread the plan out on the table, smoothing it down, while she poured coffee from the ever-present pot on the stove. She carried two mugs to the table, handing one to him, and stood for a moment staring down at the simple plan.
    “You’re right,” she said. “I’ve hesitated about this long enough. If this is a gut time for you, let’s go ahead already.”
    “Fine.” He kept it matter-of-fact and leaned over, tracing the shape with his finger. “Here’s the area we talked about adding along the side. It’ll make the greenhouse a bit bigger than the original plan, but it’ll give you more light, especially early in the spring. ”
    She bent over the plan next to him, studying it. “I didn’t think about it being bigger—will we need more materials, then?”
    He heard a trace of anxiety in her voice, making him wonder if the cost was an issue. “I don’t think so.”
    And if they did, he’d take care of that himself. She need never know.
    “That’s gut.” Her fingertips glided over the outline almost lovingly. “I was just thinking that—” She hesitated, as if reluctant to voice the thought.
    “What?”
    “Well, it could be a little extra income for me, ain’t so? Growing the plants and selling them. If I had more, I could maybe go to all the spring Mud Sales, even the farmer’s market, ferleicht.”
    “No ‘perhaps’ about it. You could do that.”
    Now it was his turn to hesitate. Had Ezra not left her provided for? He’d always assumed this was a prosperous farm, but Rachel sounded as if finances were a worry.
    He had been Ezra’s closest friend. He had the responsibility to ask. “Is the money a problem? I thought the dairy herd brought in a gut income.”
    Rachel sighed, a little catch of breath that brushed his heart. With her eyes fixed on the plan she wasn’t looking at him, and his gaze traced the clear line of her profile. She stood very close, and the air around them was so still it seemed even the room held its breath.
    “I never had to worry about it when Ezra was taking care of things.” She stopped, shaking her head. “But with Isaac and William doing all the work for the dairy herd, it’s only fair that they share the money from the milk.”
    His own breath seemed to be strangling him. Fair? Well, they deserved something for their work, but—
    “How big a share?”
    She didn’t have to answer, but he hoped she would.
    “We go halves.” She glanced at him then, troubled. “That’s only right.”
    “Does Isaac also pay half the expenses—the feed, the taxes?” Because it would be Isaac who expected the payment. He felt sure that young William was doing this because he had a gut heart and because