Chapter Thirteen
Amy stepped out into the hallway. It had been a long two weeks in bed, but now her strength was returning, and with it, a hunger for the life that bustled beyond her door.
“Amy, you’re up!” Priscilla yelled.
“Are you feeling better?” Ruby asked.
“Is it safe for us to be close to you?” Beatrice asked.
Amy couldn’t help but smile at the trio of worried faces before her. “Yes, I’m much better,” she declared, her voice still weak.
In an instant, their collective relief manifested in a whirlwind hug. She laughed, wrapping her arms around the three girls.
“Let’s go see what Brenda’s whipped up for lunch,” Amy suggested, her stomach reminding her of its neglected state.
“Look who’s finally graced us with her presence,” Brenda called over her shoulder, a teasing lilt to her words.
“Wouldn’t miss your cooking for the world,” Amy quipped, a playful jab at Brenda’s well-known distaste for culinary duties.
“Ha! You’ll eat anything after two weeks of invalid food,” Brenda retorted, but her smile was warm as she plated a generous portion for Amy and smaller ones for the children. “Was going to bring this to your room, but I think sitting up will do you some good.”
“Thank you, Brenda,” Amy said, taking her seat at the table.
“Slow down now,” Brenda chided gently, passing a basket of rolls. “No need to rush when you have all the time in the world to enjoy it.”
“Can’t help it,” Amy replied, savoring a forkful of tender carrots. “It’s just so nice to be here, with all of you.”
“Where else would you be?” Brenda teased.
Amy looked around at the eager faces that filled the small kitchen. This was home, and she was right where she belonged.
The clatter of boots on the wooden floor announced Tim and George’s arrival before they even crossed the threshold. Amy lifted her gaze from her plate, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the two as they strode into the kitchen.
“Amy!” George exclaimed with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He rushed over to Amy, his hands held out as if he still couldn’t believe she was there, sitting up and well.
Tim’s face broke into a warm smile, his relief obvious as he followed behind his son. “Well, look at you, Amy,” he said, his voice rich with affection. “Back at the heart of this house where you belong.”
“Feels like forever since I’ve seen you here,” George chimed in, pulling up a chair next to Amy. His eager eyes swept over the spread on the table, but he waited, his respect for Amy evident in his patient pause.
Amy chuckled softly, taking in the sight of them both. “It feels so good to be in the kitchen again,” she assured, her voice still weak but full of resolve. She looked around the room. “Not a single speck of dirt anywhere. You’ve kept the place just perfect.”
“Your sisters saved my sanity,” Tim said, his voice tinged with humor. He reached for a roll, his movements easy and unhurried.
“Once I’m up to it,” Amy continued, “I’ll have all my sisters over for a big meal. It’s been too long since we’ve all been together.”
“Easy there,” Tim cautioned gently. “You need to get your strength back first.”
“Of course,” Amy agreed with a nod. “But it’s something to look forward to.”
As Amy’s gaze wandered from the warm faces around her, it landed on the wooden structure outside the window, perched in the boughs of an old oak. “Is that the treehouse?” she asked. She felt like she’d missed years of her family’s lives and not just two weeks.
“Yes,” Brenda said from across the table, “the girls have been dying to show you their dresses too.”
“I can’t wait to see,” she said, though her body sagged slightly.
Brenda caught the subtle droop of Amy’s shoulders and clucked her tongue. “You aren’t strong enough yet! Give it time.”
From the corner of her eye, Amy noticed George. The boy was watching her intently. His concern touched her deeply, but before she could offer words of reassurance, Tim’s hearty laughter filled the room, drawing her attention.
