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Roald’s chair legs scraped the floor as he stood. He reached for his crutches. “I’m going to get dressed. If we hurry, we should be able to snag some of Mrs. Schenk’s apple fritters. If we wait, all that will be left is Mrs. Plett’s coffee cake.”
Gil sprang from his chair. He yanked the pot—which still hadn’t come to a boil—from the stove. “I’m right behind you, Roald.”
Joseph
Joseph adjusted Earl’scollar, then centered his string tie under his chin. He stepped back and examined his brother from his neatly combed head to the turned-in toes of his freshly polished boots. “You look very sharp, Earl.”
Earl’s face glowed. “Thank you. Ma was too busy getting Menno and Simon dressed to help me.” He smoothed his hands down the front of Joseph’s hand-me-down Sunday suit. “I wish we had our uniforms, though.”
The uniforms were still a sore spot with Joseph. The money and time spent on all those decorated coats could have been used elsewhere. “Jo, well, the band won’t sound any better just because you have uniforms on. People come to hear bands, not see them.”
Earl’s face fell.
Joseph inwardly kicked himself. He reached out and ruffled his fingers through Earl’s blond hair, making the thick tufts stand up like dried prairie grass. “But I’m sure you’ll be handsome in your uniform when it’s finally done.”
Earl grinned and smoothed his hair into place. “Thank you, Joseph.” He pulled in a breath that poked out his chest, then blew it out through pursed lips. “I hope I don’t forget any notes. There’s a lot to remember, especially when we’re marching. I start worrying about my feet and I”—he aimed a sheepish grimace at Joseph—“almost forget to play my horn.”
Protectiveness welled up. Joseph put his hand on Earl’s shoulder. “You don’t have to march if you don’t want to. It’s your choice, Earl. You know that, right?”
Earl nodded slowly. “I know. And I want to. The band needs my trumpet. Gil said so. He’s depending on me. The band’s depending on me.” He gulped and blinked several times. “Nobody’s ever counted on me before. I don’t want to let them down. I don’t want to letmedown. Do you understand?”
Suddenly Earl seemed less a little boy. A lump filled Joseph’s throat. He nodded. “I understand.”
A crooked smile creased Earl’s face. “Thanks, Joseph.”
“Come on. Let’s help Ma get the little ones into the wagon so we can leave for town.” Joseph cupped his hand around the back of his brother’s neck and herded him out the door of the summer kitchen.
Joseph wished he could stay behind. There was work to do in the shop. But Pa said no, they were all going to the community celebration. Joseph snorted under his breath. What did he care about pie-eating contests and parades and women exclaiming over each other’s stitched pillowcases? He clenched his jaw. He dreaded watching the parade. Dreaded watching Earl waddle while the other boys marched. Would people point and snicker under their breath?
His hands automatically curled into fists. If they did, Gil would pay the price.
Ava
“Well, don’t youlook pretty as a picture.”
Ava stopped in the middle of the parlor and twirled a circle for Papa, showing off the flare of her full green muslin skirt. She supposed she shouldn’t have spent time sewing a new dress when she had so many uniforms to embroider, but she’d worn the same spring dresses for the past five years. She was due a new outfit, Mama had said, and Ava decided not to argue.
She touched the lacy collar of the trim-fitting ivory blouse and beamed at Papa. “Is it too fancy for a town parade and party?”
“It’s perfect.” Papa took hold of her shoulders and delivered a kiss on her forehead. He pulled out his timepiece and peeked at it. “It’s almost half past eight. If your mama doesn’t hurry, we’ll—”
Mama entered the parlor, attired in one of her nicest dresses with her hair twisted in a knot high on her crown and a cameo pinned at her throat. She looked like the vibrant mother Ava remembered from when her brothers were still alive. Ava dashed across the floor and wrapped Mama in a hug. “Oh, you’re so lovely!”
Mama laughed and patted Ava’s back. “Jo, well, I am dressed. I can’t say I’ll last all day, but I refuse to miss the parade.”
Papa slid his watch into his vest pocket and held out both elbows. “Then let’s go.” Mama took his left and Ava took his right.
They walked three abreast until they reached Schenk’s Gristmill. Wagons cluttered the side street, forcing them to follow a maze-like path to Main Street. Ava moved behind her parents, and Papa curled his arm around Mama’s waist. They stepped free of the parked wagons into a teeming mass of people on the boardwalks.
Mama sighed. “We should have come sooner.”
Papa paused for a moment, scanning the area. Then he pointed ahead. “There’s Roald. He’s waving to me. He must have reserved a space for us in front of the post office. Let’s join him.”
Ava touched Papa’s arm. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up to you. I want to find Gil and wish him luck. He’s been nervous about the boys’ performance today.” How it warmed her to be trusted with his thoughts and worries and aspirations. Before he’d left for New York, his plans had always scared her. But this new openness between them endeared him to her even more.
“All right,” Papa said. “Tell him we are praying for his success.”
Ava kissed Papa and Mama goodbye, then darted across the street. She worked her way to the corner and down toward the livery, where the parade would start. The boys’ band was already lined up in the street with Gil in the midst of them. Ava stopped and observed, a smile growing on her face.
