He wouldn't want you carrying all of this alone. I know, but he's already carrying so much himself, the farm, the children, everything. I can't add to that. Oh, sweetheart. Lena tucked a strand of hair behind Ruthie's ear.
You're not a burden to him. You're his daughter and daughters aren't supposed to sacrifice themselves to make things easier for everyone else. Ruthie wiped her eyes roughly. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this.
You're a guest and I shouldn't I'm glad you told me and for what it's worth, I think you're doing an incredible job. But you don't have to do it alone anymore, not while I'm here. Something cautiously hopeful flickered across Ruthie's face. How long will you be here? It was the same question Ruthie had asked last night and Lena still didn't have an answer.
She didn't know what came next, didn't know where she would go or what she would do. The future stretched ahead like unmapped territory. But looking at this girl, this brave, exhausted, fierce girl who'd opened up to her, Lena felt something shift inside her chest. I don't know, she admitted. But for as long as I am here, you can count on me, all right?
Ruthie nodded, sniffling. Then she straightened her shoulders, wiped her face one last time and returned to the washing. We should finish this before lunch. Pa and Samuel will be back soon and they'll be hungry. They worked in silence after that, but it was different now, easier, like something had been acknowledged and accepted between them.
By the time Jonas and Samuel returned, the washing was done and hanging on lines strung between trees. Lena had also managed to put together a simple lunch, leftover biscuits, cold ham, cheese, and fresh radishes from the garden that Maggie had harvested. Jonas surveyed the spread, then looked at Lena with raised eyebrows. You didn't have to do all this. I wanted to help.
You said so yourself. I said you were welcome to rest. I've had enough rest. It was true. After months of being shuffled between relatives, of being made to feel like an imposition in every house she entered, it felt good to be useful, to contribute, to matter.
The family gathered for lunch and Lena found herself relaxing into the rhythm of it. The teasing between siblings, the way Jonas mediated disputes with quiet authority, the little ones vying for attention. It was messy and loud and imperfect. It was wonderful. "Miss Crowell helped us write stories," Esther announced around a mouthful of biscuit.
"I wrote about a magic cat." "And I wrote about a hero dog," Jacob added. "Did you now?" Jonas looked at Lena with interest. "That's quite an accomplishment." "They did all the work," Lena demurred. "I just helped them see that they could." "She made learning fun," Ruthie said, "like Ma used to." A hush fell over the table. The children exchanged glances.
Jonas went very still. Ruthie's eyes widened. "I didn't mean I wasn't trying to say "It's all right." Jonas's voice was gentle. "It's good to remember your Ma. To remember how she did things.
That's not something to apologize for." He looked at Lena then, and there was something in his expression she couldn't quite name. Gratitude, maybe. Or recognition. "Thank you," he said simply, "for helping today." "It was my pleasure." After lunch, Jonas returned to his work, taking Samuel with him. The afternoon stretched ahead, filled with the endless small tasks that kept a household running.