Supper's almost ready. Hope you like stew. I Yes. Thank you. Lena hovered uncertainly.
Is there something I can do to help? Jonas looked at her for a long moment, something thoughtful in his expression. You know how to slice bread? Yes. Loaves are in that basket by the table.
Knives on the counter. We'll need enough for everyone. It was such a simple task, such a normal thing, but Lena felt something loosen in her chest as she moved to the counter. Her hands found the knife, the bread, the rhythm of slicing. Around her, the family continued their preparations, Jonas ladling stew into bowls, Ruthie pouring milk for the younger children, Samuel bringing in more firewood.
They moved like a dance they'd performed a thousand times, each person knowing their part, anticipating the needs of the others. Lena finished slicing the bread and brought it to the table. Jonas was already seating the children, youngest at one end where he could help them, oldest at the other where they could help each other. You can sit here, Jonas said, indicating a spot near the middle. Between Maggie and Esther.
Lena took her seat. Maggie, a serious-faced girl with her mother's dress and her father's dark hair, scooted over to make room. Esther, a tiny thing with wild curls and gaps in her teeth, stared at Lena with open curiosity. You're pretty. Esther announced.
Esther, Ruthie warned from across the table. Mind your manners. But she is. Esther looked to Jonas for support. Isn't she, Pa?
Jonas's lips twitched. She is. But Miss Crowell might not want to be stared at while she's trying to eat. Esther considered this, then turned her attention to her bowl with single-minded determination. Lena hid a smile.
The first real smile she'd managed in days. Jonas bowed his head, the children followed suit, even the baby in her high chair going still. Lord, Jonas said, his voice quiet but clear. We thank you for this food. For this home.
For each other. We thank you for keeping us safe on the trail today. And we ask your blessing on our guest, Miss Crowell, who's had a hard day and needs your comfort. Guide her path, whatever it may be. Amen.
Amen, the children echoed. Lena's throat tightened. She couldn't remember the last time someone had prayed for her, prayed for her comfort, her path, her well-being. The meal was simple, venison stew with carrots and potatoes, thick slices of bread, fresh milk. But it was warm and filling, and Lena ate until the hollow ache in her stomach finally eased.
Around her, the family talked. The boys discussed a fort they were building in the woods. Maggie complained about having to do extra chores because Samuel had shirked his. Ruthie quietly helped Rose eat without spilling. Jonas mediated disputes, answered questions, and somehow managed to eat his own supper in between.