The Letters by Suzanne Woods Fisher

to do, but the truth was, everyone relaxed when they had tasks. Soon, there was cheerful conversation and banter going on. Rose was able to do that—to create that kind of atmosphere. Why couldn’t Mammi Vera see that?
    When Rose pulled the roasting geese out of the oven, Naomi breathed in the scent and thanked Jimmy Fisher for providing such a good dinner. It hadn’t occurred to Bethany to thank him. Sometimes, she wished the Lord would just knock her over with sweetness and goodness, because she didn’t seem to be getting the knack of it on her own.

    “You wash up good, boys,” Rose said to Luke and Sammy as they burst through the door. “I’m going to civilize you if it’s the last thing I do.”
    “Civilize them?” Mammi Vera said. “They need so much more than civilizing.”
    Rose ignored that remark and steered Delia to a chair at the table. As everyone found their seats, Galen moved to the head of the table.
    “That’s Dean’s place!” Mammi Vera said, her voice as shrill as a penny whistle. Galen froze, midair. He was the last to sit down; there were no other available chairs.
    “Galen, you just sit right down and don’t give it another thought,” Rose said, frowning at Mammi Vera.
    “She’s getting more and more like a dictator,” Mammi Vera muttered to no one in particular.
    “Yes, but a benevolent dictator,” Rose answered, tying napkins around the boys’ necks, for all the good it would do. After the silent prayer ended, a flurry of activity began. Rose began to carve the geese.
    Luke sniffed appreciatively. “Do I get a leg?”
    “Here you go. But save the wing for your brother.” Rose served him and passed the platter of goose meat as Bethany passed the gravy.
    “The gravy would be better if it had more substance,” Mammi Vera said, peering into the gravy bowl. “Next time, add a little more flour.”
    “The goose is cooked just right,” Jimmy Fisher said cheerfully.
    Mammi Vera sniffed. “It’s passable.”
    Bethany’s discomfort had taken a new turn. What must Jimmy Fisher think of them? The boys’ stomachs weregrumbling unpleasantly as they tore into their meal. They were practically inhaling their food; their stomachs were bottomless pits. Their plates began to look like graveyards of bones. Mammi Vera made caustic comments every chance she could, and Mim used a finger to capture the absolute last drop of honey that dripped off her biscuit. She reached out to kick Mim in the shin.
    “Ooph!” Galen, sitting next to Mim, grimaced in pain. Bethany had kicked the wrong person. She kept her eyes lowered, suddenly fascinated by what was on her plate.
    Mim, oblivious, looked up. “Does everyone know that honey is the world’s purest food?”
    Her sister was always spouting off odd facts. Bethany had heard enough details on the subject to have already forgotten more than most people ever know about the properties of honey. “Yes, we all know that, Mim,” she said, to cut short the talk of honey.
    “I didn’t,” Jimmy Fisher piped up.
    “Mammi, you have some food on your chin.” Bethany reached over to wipe her grandmother’s chin with her napkin.
    Luke reached out and grabbed a biscuit, then another.
    “Do not bolt your food, Luke,” Bethany whispered. “Teeth are quite useful for chewing.” He was half wild, was Luke. Boys were.
    Luke stuffed a biscuit in his mouth and talked around it. “Sammy and I are starting a business. Renting sheep. To make money.”
    Galen tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow a grin. “Now, tell me what exactly can a sheep be taught to do?”
    “Mow grass, for one,” Sammy said. “Warn you about snakes and coyotes and wolves.”

    “And they can add fertilizer while they’re working,” Jimmy said. “No extra charge.”
    Vera let out a cackle of a laugh, like the sound a hen might make if the hen were mad about something.
    Luke turned to Galen. “A good sheep can be trained. I could train one to bring your mail up to your