Bittersweet by Cathy Marie Hake Page B

three stalks of a purplish-pink flower. “Wouldn’t you know they’re dusty?” She rinsed them, then stripped the flower petals into one of her smaller mixing bowls. After adding a small splash of water, she crushed the petals with a wooden spoon and mixed them to form a paste.
    “Boss, I left yore ax out thar.”
    “Colin will see to it.” Galen glanced at Colin, who nodded and left.
    “Ma,” Dale called down from the loft where he’d gone so he could see better, “whatcha gonna do with that?”
    “I’m making a paste.”
    Dale giggled. “You’re going to paste him back together?”
    “ ’Tisn’t funny when someone’s hurting.” Galen gave his littlest brother a stern look.
    “Don’t mean to be quarrelsome, Boss, but I was a-thankin’ the selfsame thang.”
    “Loosestrife stops bleeding and has healing properties.” Ma took the towel off Ishmael’s forehead and started smoothing the paste on him.
    “Ain’t niver wore posies afore. My smeller ain’t good with my nose messed up, so I cain’t tell if ’n these got much of a scent, but they’re shore puttin’ a halt to the burnin’.”
    About ten minutes later, Ma fussed over Ishmael as she gently cleaned off the paste. “It’s going to be sore for a few days, I’m afraid. I hope it won’t scar.”
    “Do you think Doc would want to stitch him together?” Sean asked, leaning over the loft railing.
    “He wouldn’t,” Ma said with great authority. “’Tis wide and shallow, and you only stitch when a wound goes deep. Galen, his shirt’s a rare mess.”
    Galen silently crossed the cabin and got one of his father’s shirts. Lord, you knew this need before the accident even happened. Thank you for preparing the boys—and especially Colin—this morn .
    “Much obliged for the doctorin’, Miz O’Sullivan. I’m beholden to you.”
    “Nonsense. It’s thankful I am that you’ll be just fine. Your head’ll ache a day or two, so I’ll get you some willow bark. But don’t drink any willow bark until tomorrow. If you have it tonight, that wound might start bleeding again.”
    “No need for any, ma’am. Sis got some on account of Pa’s rheumatiz sometimes kicks up.”
    Galen stood next to Ishmael. “As soon as Ishmael changes, I’ll be sure he gets back to his family.”
    Ma took the hint. “Good. I’m needing something from the springhouse. Ishmael, if you need anything, send your sister here.”
    “Won’t be any call for that, ma’am.”
    “Oh—and on Monday, I’d like to finish putting up pear butter. Will you please ask your sister if she could help?”
    “I’m shore she’d be tickled, ma’am.” Ma left, and Ishmael changed into one of Da’s shirts. “I’m steady as a hunnert-year-old rock, Boss. Don’t have no need to be watched home like a boy on his first trip home from the schoolhouse.”
    “Your wits are addled if you think I’d let you saunter off.”
    Galen and Ishmael started back toward the south corner of the farm. Ishmael waited until they were halfway to his place, then stopped.
    “What’s wrong?” Galen asked.
    “Cain’t rightly say as I know. That’s why I’m a-stoppin’ here. I ain’t a fine gentleman, but I niver stooped to bein’ raw-mouthed. Pa cusses, and I’d druther he didn’t—specially when Sis is around. But you got yore hackles up and I cain’t figger out why. All I said was dad burn it.”
    “I understand you didn’t mean to curse.” I was wrong, Lord. I expected a man who knows nothing about you to act like a Christian . “I’m sure you must not have known what that saying really means.”
    “It meant I done sommat stupid and got myself into a fix.”
    “You got hurt; it was an accident. There’s not a man alive who hasn’t had a log shift as his ax was arcing down. But your words—they have a meaning you didn’t know. Dad is slang for God. Remember how I said He’s my heavenly Father?”
    “Yup. So you thunk I was a-wantin’ your God to burn my