The Letters by Suzanne Woods Fisher Page B

out to join Delia on the porch step. On the western horizon, the sun was a crimson orb, sinking into the treetops.
    “The big one is Mrs. Eagle,” she said to Delia. “The smaller one is the mister.”
    Delia had smiled at that and Rose felt pleased. Just as pleased that Delia had agreed to come for dinner, though she didn’t say much and she didn’t eat much—she just nibbled at her food.
    “What kind of eagles are they?”

    “See their white heads? That’s how you know they’re bald eagles. They’re a threatened species in Pennsylvania. Thankfully, they’re no longer an endangered species. It’s a wonderful comeback story. Things can get good again.”
    Rose smiled and Delia gave her a curious look.
    “Someday, I hope to get a porch swing out here,” Rose said. “Seems like porch swings are just as good for grown-ups as they are for children.”
    Rose and Delia watched the eagles dip and dart above the row of pines that lined one edge of the driveway. A whole dancing flock of birds disappeared, dark little dots against the sky.
    “I hope you don’t mind me saying that your mother-in-law is a ball of fire,” Delia said.
    Rose burst out laughing. “I don’t mind at all. You’re right. And she hasn’t been well lately. It’s made her an even hotter ball of fire.”
    “Your eldest daughter is very patient with her. Goodness, she reminds me of an Egyptian servant girl, all but fanning your mother-in-law with palm fronds.”
    Rose smiled. This, to Rose, was Bethany’s greatest gift—her patience and kindheartedness to Vera. Bethany was always showing care to Vera in special ways: giving her shampoos, rubbing lotion into her crepe-papery arms and legs, asking her questions about her life as a little girl. No wonder Vera adored her.
    Delia brushed off her trousers. “Didn’t you go to church today?”
    “It was an off Sunday,” Rose said. “We have church every two weeks. A good day for a big goose dinner.” She looked over at Delia. “I saw your car leave this morning. Did you go to church in town?”

    “I did.”
    That was all she had to say and Rose didn’t want to push her.
    Delia stood up to leave. “Thank you for including me today.”
    “I’m glad you came. We can be a noisy crowd.”
    “Yes, but you’re a noisy crowd of love,” Delia answered.
    To Rose’s surprise, she suddenly felt Galen listening to their conversation. Not just watching, but listening. When she turned her head and saw his eyes, she thought she caught a glint of something—amusement? Pity? She couldn’t tell.

    It had to be admitted that Rose Schrock set a fine table. Naomi had been the one to accept the supper invitation of those two little rapscallions who came flying through the hedge to rap on the door. Galen wouldn’t ordinarily have done it, but then his life was no longer ordinary.
    He barely walked in from feeding the stock when Naomi met him at the door with a fresh shirt and told him to clean up, because the neighbors were expecting them. He knew she was enamored by the Schrock girls, especially the eldest one, Bethany. Galen didn’t see the need for friends, but he understood that Naomi had a different point of view. “Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she said, bossing him around like he was a child and she was the parent.
    Next thing he knew, they were on their way to the Schrocks’. No sooner had they arrived, and Naomi and Bethany had put their heads together and twittered like little chickens.
    Galen was relieved to see Jimmy Fisher, his new apprentice, at the house. Jimmy talked such a blue streak that Galen hoped he wouldn’t be expected to say much.

    A month or so ago, Deacon Abraham had dropped by to ask Galen if he might consider taking Jimmy under his wing.
    “And why would I do that?” Galen had asked him. He knew Jimmy Fisher, had known him for years. He was known as a fellow with a fondness for the ladies.
    “I’m worried about the boy,” Abraham had explained. “He’s at a