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Midafternoon on Wednesday, while Avawas shelling peas for supper, someone knocked on the door. Papa was still at the post office and Mama was napping, so she quickly shifted the bowl from her lap and went to the door. One of the Schneider boys—Donnie, maybe?—stood on the porch.
Ava opened the screen door and smiled at him. “Goot nomeddach.May I help you?”
“Good afternoon.” The boy dug his bare toe against the porch board. “Ma sent me over. She is supposed to take a meal to Mr. Willems and Mr. Baty this evening, but the cows got out and trampled her garden, and she took to her bed with a sick headache.”
“My goodness,” Ava said, hoping she sounded concerned rather than amused. The situation itself wasn’t funny—women’s gardens kept their families fed—but the boy’s somber recital had painted comical pictures in her imagination. “What of you and your brothers and sisters? Will you get supper tonight?”
“My sisters are fixing something, but Ma said she couldn’t send any to Mr. Willems and Mr. Baty.” He crinkled his face. “My sisters don’t cook very good yet.”
Ava suddenly wondered why Mrs. Schneider had sent theboy to her house. “Did your mother say what she wanted me to do?” If he’d been sent here because people in town presumed she was Gil’s caretaker, she might—
“She remembered on the calendar how your ma took all the Saturdays, but she didn’t know who else took what days. So she sent me here.”
Relief flooded Ava. The explanation made sense and eased her worry.
“She said if your ma could take supper to them tonight,” the boy went on, “she’ll trade her for Saturday.”
On Wednesdays, because she and her folks went to the Bible meeting at church, she generally prepared something simple, much less elaborate than a meal meant for company. It was too late to change the menu now, but she could stretch the creamed peas, boiled potatoes, and fried ham enough to feed two more. “Please tell your mother that’s fine. And I hope she feels better soon.”
“Dank,” he said, and darted off.
Ava closed the door and turned. Mama stood in the hallway. Their voices must have wakened her. “Did you hear?”
“That Rosella is trading nights? Jo.” She yawned. “If you’re cooking for two more, you’ll need some help. What can I do?”
Ava let Mama shell the peas while she peeled and cut up potatoes. Mama hummed while she worked, and Ava couldn’t help smiling. It was nice having company. The preparations went faster with four hands instead of two, and the food was ready before four o’clock. Ava filled two plates, covered them with inverted cake pans, and put them on her cookie tray. “I’ll take these over to Roald now. Then they can eat when Gil gets back from his route.”
“Make sure his stove has heat so the food stays warm.” Mama’s practical advice followed Ava out the door.
She reached Roald’s house, and to her consternation, Gil pulled up in the delivery wagon at the same time and gave her a cheerful wave. She inwardly groaned. She’d hoped to be gone before he returned from the route. Joseph’s comment about the townsfolk presuming she was doing kindnesses to gain Gil’s attention rolled in the back of her mind. She didn’t want to give people more fuel for gossip. Now that he’d seen her, she had no choice but to address him. But she would keep the exchange short.
He jumped down and strode across the yard to her, his hands reaching. “Here, let me take that.”
She relinquished the tray. “Thank you. It’s your supper.” She turned toward her house.
“Hmm.” His puzzled tone prompted her to reverse direction. “I thought Mrs. Schneider was on the calendar for this evening.”
“She was.” Ava briefly explained the conflict. “She’ll come on Saturday instead.”
“I see,” he said. Then his expression turned mischievous. “When your father brings over supper, he stays and eats with Roald and me. Then he has a trumpet lesson. Do you want to come eat with us and then play some notes?”
Oh! His dancing eyes and twitching grin…so beguiling. She bit the tip of her tongue to keep from giggling. She shook her head.
“You’ll get to see the kittens.” His tone turned wheedling, and mischief continued to sparkle in his dark brown eyes. “The calico cat had five babies on Monday. One is pure white, and Roald said it will probably have blue eyes. Like the cat you had when you were younger.”
He remembered her childhood cat? How she’d adored Princess, her snow-white kitty with the crystal blue eyes and a purrthat vibrated her mattress like the train’s wheels vibrated the ground. She’d cried for days when the kitty died. Papa buried her beneath a pink peony bush, and to this day, when she passed the bush, she thought about her beloved pet.
Gil waggled his eyebrows. “Come on, Ava. I know you like kittens.”
Temptation tugged hard. But so many duties awaited her at home. She needed to set the table, fry more ham for Mama, Papa, and her, and then change her clothes for service. She didn’t have time to peek at kittens. Besides, hadn’t she told herself she needed to avoid contact with him? If someone saw her entering Roald’s house with Gil, the tongues would wag.
“If you’re worried about impropriety, don’t be. Roald and Timmy are here. So we won’t be alone.”
Timmy? She grimaced. “I didn’t realize Timmy was here. I only prepared two plates.”
Gil shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll share with him.” He took a sideways step toward the house, raising one eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to peek at the kittens?”
She really should go home. But she heard herself say, “All right.”
