A Hand to Hold by Kathleen Fuller Page B

working hard, but as Moses talked, he could see even more clearly why the man was overwhelmed. Knowing that his help was needed solidified that he’d done the right thing, even though the decision had been impulsive.
    They rounded the barn one last time, and the house came into view. Moses stopped and sighed. “Guess I better geh inside. Can’t avoid the company forever. Martha was the one that liked having people over. Me, I could take ’em or leave ’em. Right now I’d like to leave ’em.”
    As they approached the house, Stephen saw Deborah sitting on one of two white plastic chairs on the front porch. Deborah’s son was asleep in her lap, his head against her shoulder, his thumb dangling out of his mouth. When they neared, she turned her head toward her father before moving her gaze to him. She smiled shyly, but when he smiled back she glanced away. He stopped short of the porch steps. “Have you seen Elisabeth?”
    “She went inside for a minute. She should be right back out.”
    Moses was already near the door. “Are you coming in?”
    Stephen shook his head. “I should be getting back to work.”
    “All right. I’ll see you on Monday, then.”
    When Moses went inside, Deborah said, “What about Monday?”
    “I offered to come help your daed out with some of the work around here.”
    Deborah’s eyes filled with surprise. “You did?”
    He nodded.
    “That’s very kind of you. I hope you’re not going to too much trouble.”
    He noticed she had a soft voice, almost lyrical. “I don’t mind. I’m looking forward to it, actually. My grossvadder had a farm in Holmes County. We used to visit when I was growing up. I learned to break my first horse there.”
    “Is he still farming?”
    “ Nee . He retired, and now my uncle runs it. I don’t get back there much anymore, though. Too much to do here.”
    Will suddenly lifted his head, his eyes opening halfway, wisps of his hair matted against the side of his head that had rested on Deborah’s shoulder. He looked at Stephen, then buried his face in his mother’s dress.
    “He’s a little shy around strangers.” Deborah stroked his head. “He’ll come around once he gets to know you.”
    “I’m sure he will. I better get going. Tell your daed I’ll be here around five on Monday.”
    “I will.”
    Stephen turned around and started toward his buggy when he heard her call out his name. He faced her again. “Ya?”
    “We usually eat supper around that time. Is there anything special you like?”
    He almost laughed at her question. His appetite was legendary among his family, and they never failed to point out, not only how much he ate, but that he would eat almost anything his mother put in front of him. “Anything is fine. I’m not picky.”
    She nodded and Will looked up again. Stephen waved, then left. As he drove the buggy back to his daed’s shop, he remembered about the desks he and his father and brothers had promised to build to replace the ones Zach Bender had destroyed the other day. He’d have to put twice as much effort into making the desks in order to have the time to work for the Coblentz family. Yet he had a feeling that in the end, it would be worth it.

Chapter 8
    R uth looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and touched the small black-and-blue patch on her forehead. A little more than a week had passed since Zachariah had driven through the schoolhouse, and she was thankful the bruise was barely noticeable now, especially since she had a teachers’ meeting to attend in an hour. Every other month, a group of teachers from around the district gathered together to exchange ideas and give encouragement. This would be Ruth’s first meeting, and she had been looking forward to it for weeks.
    After making sure the bobby pins keeping her kapp in place were secure, she smoothed out the white apron she had just put over one of her newer dresses. She left the bathroom and went to the living room, expecting Stephen to be