had them, but Kaaren said that the night before last a miracle happened at their house.”
“A miracle?” Penny tied Agnes’s horse to the hitching post and removed the bridle. Then while her aunt climbed down, Penny unhitched the horse and tied him again to one of the wagon wheels on a long line so he could graze. Together they carried in their baskets of food and quilting supplies. Back before they had a church and the group was smaller, they met in homes and the hostess made a pot of soup or stew, and the others brought the rest of the meal. Now they all brought sandwiches and a dessert of some kind.
“So, tell me about the miracle.”
“I’ll let Kaaren do that. After all, it’s her story.”
“Then why’d you bring it up? You know how much I hate waiting,” Penny said.
“Seems you’d be over that by now. The good Lord put you in the waiting room for training, I think.”
“Waiting for Hjelmer was different. And you have to admit, it paid off.” Penny began laying out the pieces of material she’d brought.
“Waiting is waiting.”
“Speaking of waiting, how’s Petar?”
“He’s not waiting, he’s pining. That little chit running off like that near to broke his heart.”
“I never did like Clara Johnson much, anyhow. She always thought she could get any boy if she shook her blond curls and twitched her—”
“Penny!”
“Nose.” The younger woman raised her eyebrows. “Why, Tante Agnes, what did you think I was going to say?” Her chuckle carried a bit of impishness in it. “Besides, I heard that things weren’t going quite so well for Miss Johnson. Like she’s still a ‘Miss,’ not a ‘Mrs.’ As you always said, she made her bed, now she has to lie in it.”
“That might be what I said, but I ain’t too sure that’s proper talk for church, and besides, that’s gossip.” Agnes sat down with a sigh.
Penny studied her aunt. Agnes used to be a full-figured woman, with a laugh that shook not only her bosom but a body as strong as a man’s. Now her feet seemed permanently swollen, as though the rest of her had seeped downward and pooled between her toes and her knees. While Agnes’s smile still came regular-like, Penny realized she hadn’t heard her aunt really laugh in a long while. Ever since her last baby was stillborn. And that was some time ago.
“Tante Agnes?” Penny knelt at her aunt’s knees. “Are you all right? Truly?”
“Why, a’course, child. What could be wrong? As you said, this is a day for everyone to be happy.”
Penny took her aunt’s gnarled hands in her own. “You would tell me . . . if . . . if something were indeed wrong? Wouldn’t you?”
“Ah, Penny, my eldest ‘daughter,’ you know I couldn’t love you more if you’d come from within me.”
Penny nodded. She saw Ingeborg standing in the doorway but didn’t let on when Ingeborg raised a finger to her lips. She looked up at her aunt.
Agnes had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she could see something the others didn’t.
The jingle of harness and other voices let Penny know they didn’t have much time. “That’s not what I asked you.”
“I know.” Agnes came back. “There’s something, but I ain’t sure what. I been asking of the Lord, but He ain’t seen fit to answer yet.”
“Do you hurt anywhere?”
“No more’n usual. I get tired more easily.” Agnes cupped her hands around Penny’s jaw. “The good Lord is just giving me a chance to thank Him for all things, even when I’m not too sure what they are. Or where they’re leading. You might just think once in a while to say an extra prayer for me.”
“I will.” Penny got to her feet as a group of women came chattering through the door. As soon as she had a chance, she cornered Ingeborg.
“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with Tante Agnes?” she asked without preamble.
Ingeborg shook her head. “Not for certain, but she’s never been the same since the stillborn baby. I was there with her. She
“A miracle?” Penny tied Agnes’s horse to the hitching post and removed the bridle. Then while her aunt climbed down, Penny unhitched the horse and tied him again to one of the wagon wheels on a long line so he could graze. Together they carried in their baskets of food and quilting supplies. Back before they had a church and the group was smaller, they met in homes and the hostess made a pot of soup or stew, and the others brought the rest of the meal. Now they all brought sandwiches and a dessert of some kind.
“So, tell me about the miracle.”
“I’ll let Kaaren do that. After all, it’s her story.”
“Then why’d you bring it up? You know how much I hate waiting,” Penny said.
“Seems you’d be over that by now. The good Lord put you in the waiting room for training, I think.”
“Waiting for Hjelmer was different. And you have to admit, it paid off.” Penny began laying out the pieces of material she’d brought.
“Waiting is waiting.”
“Speaking of waiting, how’s Petar?”
“He’s not waiting, he’s pining. That little chit running off like that near to broke his heart.”
“I never did like Clara Johnson much, anyhow. She always thought she could get any boy if she shook her blond curls and twitched her—”
“Penny!”
“Nose.” The younger woman raised her eyebrows. “Why, Tante Agnes, what did you think I was going to say?” Her chuckle carried a bit of impishness in it. “Besides, I heard that things weren’t going quite so well for Miss Johnson. Like she’s still a ‘Miss,’ not a ‘Mrs.’ As you always said, she made her bed, now she has to lie in it.”
“That might be what I said, but I ain’t too sure that’s proper talk for church, and besides, that’s gossip.” Agnes sat down with a sigh.
Penny studied her aunt. Agnes used to be a full-figured woman, with a laugh that shook not only her bosom but a body as strong as a man’s. Now her feet seemed permanently swollen, as though the rest of her had seeped downward and pooled between her toes and her knees. While Agnes’s smile still came regular-like, Penny realized she hadn’t heard her aunt really laugh in a long while. Ever since her last baby was stillborn. And that was some time ago.
“Tante Agnes?” Penny knelt at her aunt’s knees. “Are you all right? Truly?”
“Why, a’course, child. What could be wrong? As you said, this is a day for everyone to be happy.”
Penny took her aunt’s gnarled hands in her own. “You would tell me . . . if . . . if something were indeed wrong? Wouldn’t you?”
“Ah, Penny, my eldest ‘daughter,’ you know I couldn’t love you more if you’d come from within me.”
Penny nodded. She saw Ingeborg standing in the doorway but didn’t let on when Ingeborg raised a finger to her lips. She looked up at her aunt.
Agnes had a faraway look in her eyes, as if she could see something the others didn’t.
The jingle of harness and other voices let Penny know they didn’t have much time. “That’s not what I asked you.”
“I know.” Agnes came back. “There’s something, but I ain’t sure what. I been asking of the Lord, but He ain’t seen fit to answer yet.”
“Do you hurt anywhere?”
“No more’n usual. I get tired more easily.” Agnes cupped her hands around Penny’s jaw. “The good Lord is just giving me a chance to thank Him for all things, even when I’m not too sure what they are. Or where they’re leading. You might just think once in a while to say an extra prayer for me.”
“I will.” Penny got to her feet as a group of women came chattering through the door. As soon as she had a chance, she cornered Ingeborg.
“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with Tante Agnes?” she asked without preamble.
Ingeborg shook her head. “Not for certain, but she’s never been the same since the stillborn baby. I was there with her. She
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