“Oh, stop it, you two,” Delia said, smiling. “Go hitch up the buggy. I’m sure Ezekiel will be out soon. You don’t want to be late.” She gave Moses a serious look. “You, too. Off you go.”
There was a knock on the side door as the boys got their shoes on. It took a busy minute with the boys slamming their feet into running shoes before they negotiated the door—the boys going outside and Elias coming in.
Moses scowled at Elias, but he followed his brothers outside with a muttered, “Hi, Violet... Come on. Ezekiel’s taking forever in the bathroom.”
Elias looked out the window after the boys, watching them for a moment before he turned back to the kitchen.
“She’ll be fine with them,” Delia said.
He smiled sheepishly. “Sometimes I worry.”
Ezekiel came down the stairs then, and his gaze landed on Elias with a look of surprise.
“Right,” the teenager said, glancing toward Delia.
“Have a nice night, Ezekiel,” Delia said firmly. “Say hello to Beulah for me.”
“I will,” Ezekiel said, and he pressed his lips together. At least he wasn’t going to argue about it in front of Elias, and for that Delia was thankful. “We’ll see you later on.”
“Be home by eleven,” Delia reminded him.
“I know. ’Bye, Mamm.” He didn’t include Elias in his farewell as he headed out the side door. When Delia went to the window, she could see Aaron and Thomas almost finished hitching up the buggy, and Violet and Moses standing nearby watching them. Violet turned when Ezekiel came outside, and they exchanged a few words.
“That was nice of you to pay Thomas with suspenders,” Delia said, turning back to the kitchen again.
“Oh...it was nothing. I just saw that he was worried about fixing his, and I figured I had a solution,” Elias said.
“At least you made sure he worked for it,” Delia said.
“He wouldn’t have accepted them otherwise,” he replied. “It’s okay. I understand how boys think. A very long time ago, I was a boy that age.”
Delia smiled ruefully. “Not that long, Elias. We’re almost the same age. I’m forty-one and you’re...”
“Forty-four. And you’re right.”
“Thomas worries about money sometimes,” Delia said. “He shouldn’t. I would have gotten him new suspenders. But they try to take on the adult worries around the farm, no matter how hard I try to stop them.”
Delia headed for the kitchen and pulled down a couple of plates. “So how did it go with Violet last night?”
“Well...” Elias was silent a moment. “She’s being obstinately silent about it. How about you?”
“Mine are afraid of a few things. One, that you might be harsh and beat them. Two, that you might be after the farm and not my heart. And three, that you might be a liar and break my heart.”
Elias looked up at her, eyebrows raised. “Oh, wow. So that’s what’s worrying them. That’s really something that you were able to get all of that out of them.”
“I’m not sure how I did it, either,” she said, depositing the plates on the table.
“So they’re really worried about getting beaten?” he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Zeke and I were never the harsh punishment type of people. We did more long lectures or taking away something they liked or giving extra chores to keep those idle hands busy.”
“Wise parenting,” Elias said quietly.
“Are you the same?” she asked. And somehow, his answer mattered—even though it shouldn’t. It didn’t! This pretend courtship was not in any permanent way between them. But she stilled to hear what he’d say, all the same.
“Yah, my daet was a harsh disciplinarian, and I don’t think it did us much good. It made us angry, mostly. It didn’t change our hearts. We have a much different relationship now, but when I was young, I feared him more than I loved him. I don’t want that with my daughter.”
“What do you do to keep Violet on the right path?” she asked.
“Maybe not enough considering her current struggles,” he admitted. “But I talk to her about consequences that happen in real life. Like, the kind of world that is out there waiting for sweet Amish girls, and the kinds of people who might take advantage.”
That was a good answer that even her stubborn boys would have to appreciate. She passed her hand over the V she’d cut in the top of the pie crust. It was no longer steaming, but it still felt very hot.
“I think that’s all you can do, really,” Delia said. “Especially at this age. Besides extra chores, perhaps, or grounding her.”
“But when the reason why she’s leaning toward an Englisher life is her grief over losing her mamm, I’m not sure punishment is the way.”
Delia nodded. “I agree. It’s complicated, isn’t it? We don’t want to break their spirits or chase them out. We want to guide them in safe paths...and they want adventure.”
She turned to reach for a knife, and somehow, her other hand connected with the hot glass pie plate. It all happened so quickly that she wasn’t sure exactly how she’d done it. She let out a cry and the knife clattered to the floor.
She shook her hand, trying to cool it, and she shut her eyes against the burn.
“Delia!”
When she opened her eyes, Elias was at her side.
Elias bent down to pick up the knife and laid it on the counter, then put a hand over Delia’s. She was hurt—he’d seen her hand touch the hot pie plate and the red welt that sprang up. He had crossed the kitchen to reach her without a second thought. Delia pulled her hand out of his and looked down at the burn. She grimaced.
