How he automatically gave Ruthie an extra because she never took enough for herself. This was a man who knew his children, who paid attention. Lena ate slowly, savoring each bite. Around her, breakfast continued in its chaotic rhythm. Samuel reminded his father about the fence that needed mending in the north pasture.
Ruthie mentioned they were running low on flour and sugar. The twins argued about whose turn it was to collect eggs until Jonas settled it with the patience of Solomon. After breakfast, Jonas announced, raising his voice to be heard over the din, Samuel and I will work on the fence. Ruthie, you're in charge of the little ones. Maggie, I need you to weed the vegetable garden.
Twins, you're on firewood duty, and I mean actual work, not building elaborate forts in the woodpile. But Pa Daniel started. No forts. Not today. We need that wood stacked properly before the next rain.
The boys subsided into grumbling, but didn't argue further. Jonas's gaze landed on Lena. Miss Crowell, you're welcome to rest today. Get your bearings. Or if you'd rather keep busy, I'm sure Ruthie could use an extra pair of hands with the children.
I'd like to help. Lena said immediately. The thought of sitting alone in that small room with nothing to do but think about her situation was unbearable. Whatever you need. Something approving flickered in Jonas's eyes.
Ruthie? The girl looked up from cutting Rose's flapjacks into small bites. The washing needs doing, and Rose needs a bath. She got into the mud yesterday, and someone should probably check on the chickens because I heard them making a fuss earlier. I can do all of that, Lena offered.
Ruthie's expression was carefully neutral, but Lena saw the relief underneath. This girl carried too much, too young. After breakfast, the family scattered to their various tasks. Jonas and Samuel headed out with tools and determined expressions. The twins trudged toward the woodpile with exaggerated reluctance.
Maggie gathered her gardening supplies, and Ruthie herded the younger children, Esther, Jacob, Rose, and baby Eliza, into something resembling order. The wash tub is out back, Ruthie told Lena. I already drew water this morning, but it'll need heating. And Rose She turned to the 3-year-old who was already trying to escape toward the door. You need a bath, little miss.
No arguments. Rose's lower lip jutted out. Don't want a bath. You're covered in mud from yesterday. You need a bath.
No. Lena knelt down to Rose's level, remembering the tricks she'd learned with her nieces and nephews during those awkward years of being passed between relatives. What if we make it fun? We could use that nice soap that smells like flowers. And afterward, you can help me feed the chickens.
Rose considered this, her small face serious. The chickens are scary. They're only scary if you're scared of them, but if you're brave, they're actually quite nice. I'm brave, Rose declared, puffing out her chest. Then a brave girl shouldn't be afraid of a little bath, should she?