Page 18

E d slammed the metal tip of the shovel into the ground at the bottom of the ten-foot hole only to have it clank against a rock in the soil. The vibration jarred his arm clear to his shoulder.

He finally got a chance at making his dreams of building furniture for a living come true, then slam. Everything was halted by a poisoned well.

He clanged the shovel to the side of the rock.

He finally found someone who understood him, only to be hit with the realization it was Rebekah.

Clang. The shovel rang out as it hit the granite one more time.

He stopped to lean against the handle of the shovel, sweat trickling down his face and his back, soaking his shirt.

He’d been working on this off and on whenever he had a chance the last few days.

Today he’d planned to finish it. For at least part of the day, David had been available to hand the buckets of dirt up to him as he dug deeper, but it hadn’t been enough.

A rumbling protest rose from his stomach.

If he’d thought it’d take until evening to get this far, Ed would have stopped for lunch instead of just eating a leftover biscuit he’d stashed from breakfast. Not like the family noticed he’d skipped it anyway.

Proof he was no better off than he’d ever been.

He tugged at the gloves to slip them off, giving his hands a chance to cool.

The blisters screamed at him as frustration settled in his chest. If he’d hit water today, there’d be no need to be digging again tomorrow.

The deepening red of the horizon told him he’d be back in the morning after slipping over to tend to the Boutwell livestock.

A task he planned to accomplish before there’d be any chance of seeing Rebekah up and about.

How did he face her after she’d written those letters?

Worse yet, how did he tell her who she was really writing to?

He leaned his head against his hands atop the shovel handle.

For all intents and purposes, he might as well be invisible down here in this hole, trying to figure out what to do.

His brothers all had their own issues. Isaac seemed so lost in his grief that riding with the herd was all that suited him until he decided to open up to the family.

Nick wasn’t up to digging but had ridden out with Drew earlier to see about the animals at the Boutwells’ for him.

Nick’s dog Patch let out a bark. Ed stepped onto the ladder and climbed up to peer out of the hole, watching Patch rise from beneath the shade tree to amble his way.

Ed reached out a hand, but the dog picked up his pace, tail wagging, to trot right past the hole Ed stood in.

One look over the edge toward the house showed Kaitlyn headed his direction with a bundle of some sort in her hands.

Jo and Tillie trotted behind her, then veered off toward the clothesline with a basket between them.

Placing both his hands along the side of the hole, he pulled himself up, kicking off the end of the ladder with his feet to hoist himself over the edge. A dirty, sweaty mess of exhaustion. Exhaustion that seeped past his weary muscles all the way to his heart.

He landed at Kaitlyn’s feet, then rolled over to a sitting position.

“I figured you needed a hot meal. The family hasn’t seen much of you lately.”

They all knew where he was. Not that he’d felt sociable.

“I have to do this job.” He brushed his hands across the only clean spot on his shirt before turning to peek at the plate she’d uncovered.

“Ham, biscuit, corn on the cob.” Bending close, she handed him a damp cloth to clean his hands with, a reminder of her prim and proper ways. “And a glass of lemonade.”

Finished wiping his hands, he reached for the glass and downed it, then he set the glass upright in the grass and dug into the plate. Patch let out a whine as he flopped close by.

“Want to see me now that I’ve got food, eh?” Ed tossed the dog a piece of ham, then shoveled another forkful for himself.

Silence fell.

“Are you all right?” Kaitlyn stood where she could keep an eye on Jo and Tillie as they worked to take clothes off the line.

“The well.” There wasn’t time between bites to offer more explanation.

Ed kept chewing, not wanting to answer.

Kaitlyn sat on the ground near him. “I doubt Drew meant for you to push this hard. If he knew you were so worn out, he’d find another way.”

Drew would find another way. One that might see him staying up into the night to do it himself. But Ed just nodded, shoving in another bite of ham and licking the salty juice from his fingers.

“Unless something else is bothering you.”

Ed stopped chewing. “Nothing else.”

He thought of the unfinished work on the display case for the bakery. Between helping the family recover and now digging the well, his chances of completing it were slipping away.

He couldn’t even think about Rebekah.

“Did you and Rebekah have a fight? I thought you were getting along.” Kaitlyn ran her hand along Patch’s back as he sidled up to her.

The food turned to sawdust in his mouth as he imagined Rebekah sitting at her table, penning one of those letters. To Isaac.

He should have known she’d want to answer Isaac’s ad.

“Ed?”

“Naw.” His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. “Nothing happened.”

“I don’t believe you.”

If Kaitlyn hadn’t become a friend during the past months, he would’ve told her off. But he needed a friend right now.

“It’s Rebekah.”

“Rebekah?”

“The woman answering Isaac’s ad is Rebekah.”

“I don’t understand. You’d better start from the beginning.”

He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about how many letters had been exchanged. Kaitlyn’s brows rose higher and higher as his story unfolded.

“You fancy Rebekah?” She couldn’t keep the note of incredulity from her voice.

Ed ducked his head, pushing together the scraps on his plate.

She touched his arm. “If you and Rebekah are getting along better, isn’t that a good—oh.”

Kaitlyn seemed to have realized the crux of the problem. Rebekah was the woman meant for Isaac. And the woman who’d always wanted Isaac.

Ed stood and offered his scraps to Patch.

Kaitlyn joined him, shielding her eyes with her hand as she glanced at the girls again. Tillie had let a shirt fall in the grass, and Jo was scolding her.

She shifted her clear eyes back on him. “I’d say it’s perfect.”

“How? I was supposed to find a wife for Isaac. He’s the one she’s always wanted.”

“People change.”

Memories from their school days rushed back at him.

All those times Rebekah had walked out of her way on the way home from school, just so she could chance talking to Isaac.

Her hurried steps, trying to keep up with Isaac’s long, most certainly annoyed, strides.

Always hoping for a word from him. Others may not have noticed it, but Ed always had.

“Has she asked for a meeting? Didn’t you say before that the woman signed with only her first name?” Kaitlyn’s questions drew him out of his woolgathering. “If she hasn’t revealed herself but she knows, or thinks rather, that it’s Isaac, then she must not be sure.”

Rebekah’d been perturbed when Ed had placed that ad. But now that he’d put the pieces together, he realized that every time she’d received one of the letters, she’d lit up.

“Why are you giving up so easy?” Kaitlyn reached out to take his empty plate. “You’re tall, strong, handsome.”

Heat rose up his neck.

“You own your own property. Have a house on it.” Kaitlyn pushed on. “You’re loyal as the day is long.”

“I’m not Isaac.”

“Ma, I need help.” Tillie cried out where she stood with a too-big laundry basket in front of her.

“I’m coming.” The return cry rang in Ed’s ears before Kaitlyn turned her gaze back on him, her hand on his arm. “You don’t need to be Isaac. Be yourself. You’re deserving of love.”

Ed shook his head as Kaitlyn moved toward the clothesline, wrapping an encouraging arm around Tillie in her approach. She didn’t know Rebekah like he did.

Kaitlyn and the girls waved as they moved toward the house.

Ed looked at the hole. Then the setting sun.

He didn’t want to dig anymore. He might as well call it a night.

He began the walk home. Was it really his best chance to win Rebekah? He’d given up in school when she was twelve, writing about Isaac. Now she thought she was writing to Isaac.

Patch followed along beside him, head down, almost as if he were mirroring Ed’s mood. When Ed reached his place, he shooed a hand at Patch.

“Go on home now.”

With a push, he opened the door to his cabin.

A hint of light remained. Enough to light his lamp.

He carried it to the workbench. The cabinet was close to completion, but his deadline loomed even closer.

As he lifted an arm to sand the wood, his muscles screamed.

If Isaac were back here, he’d have another pair of arms for all this endless work.

But if Ed wooed Rebekah, the entire plan for Isaac would blow up in his face.

If he didn’t woo her, she might end up with Isaac.

What if that made her happy? What if it didn’t?

Her handshake of friendship that night at the homestead flashed through his thoughts.

How she’d grinned at his teasing on the way to Quade’s house, even opening up about her dreams.

His arm dropped to his side. There wasn’t a place in him to pull from to work on the display case tonight, and he had another day of backbreaking work waiting on him tomorrow.

What if he asked Rebekah to go courting?

He imagined her expression if he tried to tell her face-to-face.

Would she be happy to have him court her?

He wasn’t Isaac. Isaac had always been all charm, while Ed was…

Ed. Kaitlyn’s advice echoed in his mind.

But what if Rebekah turned him down? He’d be losing to Isaac all over again. Only worse.