“It is all very strange,” Thomas said. “I noticed he kept leaving his shoes untied. I thought he was forgetting to tie them, so I remembered to remember my manners and did not say anything until he kept doing it every day. Finally, I asked him about it, but not in front of anybody because I did not want to embarrass him, and he said his feet were too swollen to tie them anymore.”
“Hold the lantern still, Thomas,” Joseph whispered.
Thomas stilled his hand that held the light. “At night, he has taken to soaking them in tubs of ice water, which does not seem like it would feel good. When I got that bad splinter, remember, Rebekah? I had to soak my foot in tubs of hot water with the salts in it until it came out?”
Rebekah nodded. “I remember. That was a terrible splinter.”
Thomas nodded. “It was. It felt like a whole board in there! Anyway, I asked Mamm why he would choose to soak his feet in ice water instead of hot water, and she said it was to help with the swelling.”
Rebekah’s brow furrowed. Before she could offer any sort of response, Thomas continued.
“He huffs and puffs now, and it seems like he cannot breathe and walk at the same time. Going up the stairs, he huffs and puffs. Going out to work, he huffs and puffs.” He shrugged. “I do not like the sound of him huffing and puffing. He must bend over and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath sometimes. And he looks…gray.”
She shuddered at the description of her beloved father.
Thomas dropped his voice low, as though he was telling a secret that he’d promised never to tell. “And yesterday, he took to coughing and could not get his breath. I ran and grabbed a hankey for him, and when he pulled it away from his mouth, it was covered in foam.”
“Foam?”
Thomas nodded. “Pink foam.”
“Oh my,” Rebekah started. Something deep inside her began to tremble. It was an odd feeling.
“He has not been sleeping well, I hear him get up to go to the outhouse two sometimes four times a night.” Thomas’s eyes rounded at the prospect of someone having to use the outhouse so many times a night. “Sometimes even more.”
A smile flickered across Rebekah’s lips.
“And today,” Thomas said, “he was too tired to even get out of bed to make his wagon wheel delivery. That is why Jeremiah and I went for him.”
“That was very kind of both of you.” She tried to ignore the niggling of fear that stirred deep in her gut.
“I would be tired, too, if I had to pee fifteen times a night.” Thomas stilled for a moment. “Oh, there’s something else. You had mail in Montgomery.”
Rebekah hiccupped. “I did?”
“No, Schwestie. Not you.” Thomas shook his head. “Joseph.” He reached into his overalls pocket and pulled out a stiff envelope. “I forgot to give this to you.”
Joseph stopped sanding. “Someone wrote a letter? To me?”
He accepted the letter from Thomas and studied the handwriting on the front. “Can you hold the lantern over here, Thomas?”
“Who is it from?” Rebekah asked.
Joseph, engrossed in his mysterious piece of mail, didn’t answer.
The lantern light wavered a bit as Thomas shifted his weight. At nine, he was tall, skinny, and lanky. Their mamm had poked a new hole in his gute belt a week earlier, and Rebekah had to add another just the day before. However, the taller he grew the thinner he became, and he was growing now. She smiled at her littlest bruder.
“Danki for bringing the mail. And for all the help,” she said in a quiet voice.
“You are welcome.” Thomas returned her smile. “It is my pleasure.”
Joseph gave a little cough and scratched his nose as a smile played at the corners of his lips. Illuminated in the lantern light, Rebekah was certain that her beloved mann was created by Gotte just for her. His handsome face was tanned from working hard for his family and his eyes, blue and sparkly like the river after a storm, always looked for the best in people. His smile was always ready to be given away to whomever may need it, and his lips always spoke the truth.
She let her gaze flicker around the warm, dusty barn. Sunlight was just beginning to reach through the windows and under the door in long, yellow fingers. Joseph’s various woodworking projects festooned the walls and gave the entire area an abstract feel. His current project, a new set of chairs for their dining room—two regular-sized for the pair of them and one smaller chair for Thomas—sat in the middle of the workspace with wood stacked all around. Tucked in the back amid stalls filled with hay, were their animals.
Buttermilk, the calf she’d saved from a barn fire, snoozed there along with their aptly named buggy horse, Smiley. Buttercup, the cantankerous rooster, and his flock of clucking hens could be found roosting sometimes in the dusty hay on the floor of the barn, sometimes in their coop Joseph had built for them. Either Joseph or Rebekah made it a point to make sure the chickens made it inside before night fell because fresh pawprints belonging to hungry foxes could always be found around the homestead.
However, every once in a while, a chicken might not make it into the coop. On those occasions, the morning egg searches were made more interesting for Thomas, who certainly didn’t complain. This morning, Buttercup strutted through the barn, with his sad crow in his throat, and his flock of oblivious chickens on his heel. Rebekah almost chuckled as she glanced back at Joseph, who still studied the letter in silence.
“What is it?” Rebekah asked again.
Joseph smiled but didn’t answer.
Rebekah waited patiently. Her stomach turned over. Buttercup crowed again.
“Joseph?”
He chuckled.
“Joseph?”
“Hmm?”
“What is the letter?”
Joseph didn’t look up. “Oh, it’s from Katie.”
“Katie.” Something inside Rebekah bristled, like a tomcat who found himself in the midst of a coyote pack.
