Where the Heart Leads by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page B

load is easier with two backs instead of one.”
    He and Thomas carried all three tubs to the backyard, where Summer would do her scrubbing later in the morning. Thomas brushed his hands together, looking at the contents of the tubs. He shook his head. “What a task to wash all this!”
    Pa chuckled. “ Ja , and it is more with you here. We both are so big—our clothes are bigger, so a third tub she uses now.”
    Thomas glanced into the tub holding his father’s shirts and pants. He glimpsed his own clothes tangled up with Pa’s, and his heart gave a leap. He slapped his shirt where the breast pocket would be and sucked in a sharp breath.
    Pa stared at him in concern. “Son?”
    Thomas plunged his hands into the tub, digging out the shirt he’d worn yesterday. He grimaced when he located the letter from Daphne, still folded in the pocket, but now soggy from its overnight soak in the tub. Would it dry out and still be readable? He tried to unfold it but only managed to tear the paper.
    Pa stepped forward, his fingers pinching his beard. “This is something important?”
    Thomas nodded, but he didn’t elaborate. He pressed the square against his leg, absorbing some of the moisture with the fabric of his pants.
    Pa held out his hand, and Thomas plopped the paper onto his father’s palm. They both stood, staring at the crumpled wad. “Maybe . . .” Pa worked his jaw back and forth, squinting. “Maybe when it is dry, you can unfold it.”
    Thomas gritted his teeth. “Unfolding it won’t fix it. Look at it—it’s all stained and blotchy. The ink ran.” He looked into the tub again. “I hope the ink didn’t transfer to your clothes. If it did, I’ll replace everything.”
    “That is not needed,” Pa said, rotating his palm slightly to turn the paper to receive the sun’s rays. “Work clothes have stains—a few more will not matter.”
    “I suppose.”
    “So what is this important paper I hold?” Pa searched Thomas’s face.
    At last—his chance. Taking a deep breath of fortification, Thomas readied his thoughts.
    “Oh, good!” Summer’s cheerful voice cut in before Thomas could form a word. She stepped through the back door into the yard, her gaze drifting across the waiting tubs. “Thank you for getting those out of the way so I can fix breakfast.” She slipped beneath Pa’s arm and smiled up at him. “ Panküake this morning?”
    “Ach, what is better than pancakes for Saturday breakfast?” Pa asked.
    Summer looked between Pa and Thomas. “Have you told him about the mill?”
    Pa slapped his forehead. “ Nä! I almost forget. I go see my boss last night, and he says he can use you until all harvest grains are ground. It is only a short job, but still a job.” Pa bounced the ruined letter on his open palm, his grin broad.
    A wave of frustration filled Thomas’s chest. He took the letter from Pa and opened his mouth, ready to share about the job opportunity offered on the page.
    “Mama, Papa!” Gussie burst through the back door, her nightgown flapping. Her wide blue eyes matched her excited voice. “Little Lena tried to climb out of her crib and she fell! Komm flucks! ”
    Both Summer and Pa dashed after Gussie, and Thomas followed. Even though Lena’s injury was minor—a bruise on her forehead and scuffed skin on one palm—the fright from her tumble required a great deal of comfort. By the time the little girl had been calmed, Thomas’s sodden letter was forgotten, and he didn’t have the heart to bring it up again.
    By the morning of the Fourth of July, Thomas nearly fumed with frustration, and he didn’t feel much like celebrating freedom. He felt trapped by circumstances, and he wasn’t sure how to fix the situation. Was this God’s way of telling him to remain in Hillsboro? Would he be stuck in this small town forever?
    The morning passed quickly as Thomas helped Pa prepare the backyard to receive guests. With Abby, Gussie, and Lena darting between them and slowing their