Rebekah turned her soggy, aching face upward.
Joseph’s silhouette stood illuminated against the mid-morning sun. His face wore a dimpled grin as he extended a hand to her.
She accepted it and stood up. “At his situation?”
He arched his black eyebrows and nodded toward the cocky rooster. As the fowl stalked around, the apron strings managed to get caught between his claws. The white fabric trailed behind him like a bad decision. When Rebekah looked at him, he made a little jump, faced the fabric, and called out an irritated bock-ca.
The sight was too much. With her hands on her knees, Rebekah gave in to another laughing fit. After a moment, Joseph joined in.
When the mood passed and the throbbing in her sides had gone, she wiped the sweat and tears from her face with the burgundy sleeve of her dusty dress.
“Here, you have a smear.” He wiped his thumb across her cheek and left a sizzle in its wake.
Rebekah stood, frozen.
I could live off this moment forever.
Joseph bent to pick a blade of grass.
She blew out the breath she’d been holding in a huff. “Now that’s taken care of, time to get busy,” she muttered.
“What do we do first?” A freshly-plucked sprig jutted out of his mouth as he waited.
“We?” Rebekah tried to hide the incredulous tone to her words. “I don’t know about we, but I have to clean a rooster mess out of the sitting room before starting on lunch and dinner. Then there’s laundry, and tending the calf, and—”
Joseph held up his hands in defeat.
She gave him a smug glance and whirled to enter the house.
I hope he follows me.
“I’ll get your apron from Tom.”
Rebekah stood on the steps and leaned against the banister. “This I must see.”
Mirroring her smug glance, Joseph turned and started toward the feisty rooster.
Tom stood still and clucked soft clucks. Gently, Joseph picked him up and disentangled his feet from the strings.
Rebekah’s mouth hung open freely.
Joseph strode toward her, apron extended. “Catchin’ flies?”
She accepted it, her mouth still agape.
“How did you—” she began. “No, why didn’t the old rooster—”
“If you want to catch a rooster, think like a rooster.” Joseph tapped his head.
Rebekah sighed.
He tucked his thumbs under his arms and flapped his makeshift wings. “Bock-ca.”
She fought back a smile and shook her head. “Oh, before I forget, when you go home, would you mind asking your ma to stop by when she can? It seems Ma’s labor is trying to start.”
“When I go home? Who said I was leaving?”
Joseph’s stark words gave her pause. She stared into his eyes, which were the same hue as the early spring sky.
Is he joking?
The same gentle smoldering flamed to life in her chest about the time the familiar tingles sparked deep in her stomach.
***
“Now that the mess is cleaned up, how about some lunch?”
Rebekah brushed her hands on her dress. “Okay, what would you like me to make us?”
Joseph followed her into the kitchen. He reached to the bent nail beside the doorframe and plucked a fresh apron free. After donning it expertly, he held his arms out for her approval. “How does it look?”
Close your mouth, Rebekah, before you really do catch a fly.
“Um, yes. You…um, well, Joseph, you look…you look…handsome.”
Handsome in an apron? Rebekah, sheesh!
He retrieved a skillet from under the dry sink. “Well, I meant do I look ready to make lunch. But handsome works, too.”
