throughout Shadow Creek—Laura and Ian Gaffney were expecting their first child.
Monday morning, as Karola walked from cabin to farmhouse, she paused halfway down the hillside to stare upward, watching the sky as it changed from darkness to light, from gray to blue. She listened to dozens—perhaps hundreds—of tiny finches chirping in nearby trees and saw the limbs bounce and sway as the birds hopped from branch to branch.
Overwhelming joy burst within her, and she smiled, threw out her arms, and spun around in circles.
“Thank you, God, for this day!”
Her mother had often told her there was no joy to compare with the joy of the Lord, the joy of a believer who trusted in Jesus. Karola hadn’t understood what she meant then, and she wasn’t sure she understood fully yet. All she knew was that she was different. Inside. In her heart.
And she wasn’t alone. For years she’d felt utterly alone, rejected, unwanted. But no more. Even in her solitary little cabin in this brand-new land, so far from her parents and the people she’d known all of her life, she’d discovered she wasn’t alone. The rejection, the shame, that she’d felt even just a few days before had been lifted from her heart by a divine hand.
Still smiling, she continued down the hillside. “I do not know how you did it, Father God, but I thank you for setting me free.”
One of Jakob’s dogs trotted over to meet her as she entered the barnyard. She paused a moment to lean down and stroke its head.
“Guten Morgen.” Her greeting was rewarded with a rapid wag of its tail.
Catching a whiff of frying bacon, she straightened and looked toward the house. Light fell through the kitchen window in a welcoming glow. But was she truly welcome there? She wondered if Jakob would rush out to do his chores the instant he saw her, the way he had the first morning.
When she entered the kitchen a few moments later, she found Jakob standing at the stove, clad in scuffed black boots and trousers that had been patched at the knees. His red plaid shirt was tucked into the waistband of his pants, but his suspenders hung down at his thighs, as if he’d forgotten to finish dressing in his haste to prepare something to eat. His hair was mussed, his jaw unshaven.
Looking at him, Karola felt the strangest fluttering in her belly.
Jakob cast a glance in her direction as the door closed behind her. “Morning. Care for a fried egg?”
She swallowed hard. “ Ja. Danke. But let me help you.”
“No need. Even I can fry bacon and eggs.” He motioned with his head. “Coffee’s done perking. Help yourself.”
“Danke,” she said again, then went to the cupboard, glad for a reason not to look at him and troubled that she needed one.
“Have you got everything you need up at the cabin?” Jakob spoke over his shoulder. “Staying warm enough at night?”
“Ja.” She took a large mug from the shelf. “It is quite cozy.”
He cracked an eggshell on the side of the skillet. Grease splattered and popped as the egg dropped into the pan. Raising his voice above the noise, he said, “I figured you’re going to need to buy some supplies. I know the pantry’s in poor shape, and those things the ladies sent out are near gone.”
Thank heaven she hadn’t had to point this out to him.
Jakob cracked three more eggs in succession. “I should have seen to it the day I brought you out from town, but I guess I had other things on my mind.” He reached for the saltshaker. “I’ll hitch up the wagon for you whenever you want to go.”
Using a dishtowel to protect her hand, she took the coffeepot from the stove. “Whenever it is best for you, Jakob.”
“Me? No, thanks. I’ve made way too many trips into town as it is lately.”
She turned to stare at him. “But, Jakob, I know nothing about horses and wagons. I would not know how to control the animals.”
His disbelief was plain. “You’ve never driven a wagon?”
“ Nein. Never.”
He muttered
Monday morning, as Karola walked from cabin to farmhouse, she paused halfway down the hillside to stare upward, watching the sky as it changed from darkness to light, from gray to blue. She listened to dozens—perhaps hundreds—of tiny finches chirping in nearby trees and saw the limbs bounce and sway as the birds hopped from branch to branch.
Overwhelming joy burst within her, and she smiled, threw out her arms, and spun around in circles.
“Thank you, God, for this day!”
Her mother had often told her there was no joy to compare with the joy of the Lord, the joy of a believer who trusted in Jesus. Karola hadn’t understood what she meant then, and she wasn’t sure she understood fully yet. All she knew was that she was different. Inside. In her heart.
And she wasn’t alone. For years she’d felt utterly alone, rejected, unwanted. But no more. Even in her solitary little cabin in this brand-new land, so far from her parents and the people she’d known all of her life, she’d discovered she wasn’t alone. The rejection, the shame, that she’d felt even just a few days before had been lifted from her heart by a divine hand.
Still smiling, she continued down the hillside. “I do not know how you did it, Father God, but I thank you for setting me free.”
One of Jakob’s dogs trotted over to meet her as she entered the barnyard. She paused a moment to lean down and stroke its head.
“Guten Morgen.” Her greeting was rewarded with a rapid wag of its tail.
Catching a whiff of frying bacon, she straightened and looked toward the house. Light fell through the kitchen window in a welcoming glow. But was she truly welcome there? She wondered if Jakob would rush out to do his chores the instant he saw her, the way he had the first morning.
When she entered the kitchen a few moments later, she found Jakob standing at the stove, clad in scuffed black boots and trousers that had been patched at the knees. His red plaid shirt was tucked into the waistband of his pants, but his suspenders hung down at his thighs, as if he’d forgotten to finish dressing in his haste to prepare something to eat. His hair was mussed, his jaw unshaven.
Looking at him, Karola felt the strangest fluttering in her belly.
Jakob cast a glance in her direction as the door closed behind her. “Morning. Care for a fried egg?”
She swallowed hard. “ Ja. Danke. But let me help you.”
“No need. Even I can fry bacon and eggs.” He motioned with his head. “Coffee’s done perking. Help yourself.”
“Danke,” she said again, then went to the cupboard, glad for a reason not to look at him and troubled that she needed one.
“Have you got everything you need up at the cabin?” Jakob spoke over his shoulder. “Staying warm enough at night?”
“Ja.” She took a large mug from the shelf. “It is quite cozy.”
He cracked an eggshell on the side of the skillet. Grease splattered and popped as the egg dropped into the pan. Raising his voice above the noise, he said, “I figured you’re going to need to buy some supplies. I know the pantry’s in poor shape, and those things the ladies sent out are near gone.”
Thank heaven she hadn’t had to point this out to him.
Jakob cracked three more eggs in succession. “I should have seen to it the day I brought you out from town, but I guess I had other things on my mind.” He reached for the saltshaker. “I’ll hitch up the wagon for you whenever you want to go.”
Using a dishtowel to protect her hand, she took the coffeepot from the stove. “Whenever it is best for you, Jakob.”
“Me? No, thanks. I’ve made way too many trips into town as it is lately.”
She turned to stare at him. “But, Jakob, I know nothing about horses and wagons. I would not know how to control the animals.”
His disbelief was plain. “You’ve never driven a wagon?”
“ Nein. Never.”
He muttered
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