Chapter 1.
The winter wind howled around Wilma's kitchen windows with a ferocity that made the sturdy house shudder. Outside, snow had been falling lightly since dawn.
“I don't like the look of those clouds,” Wilma said, glancing at the gray sky while she packed a large basket with fresh bread and cookies. “But Gus Miller needs our help. He's been feeling poorly all week.”
Iris stood by the kitchen table, wrapping a pot of homemade soup in dish towels to keep it from spilling during the buggy ride. The community had organized a rotation system to care for Gus, an elderly widower who lived alone three miles down the winding back road. They would check on his health, and make sure his needs were met during the winter months.
“Ada is visiting today, isn't she?” Iris asked.
“She was planning to come with us, but I’d say her arthritis is acting up something fierce in this weather. She said she could barely get out of bed the other morning.” Wilma sighed, glancing toward the empty kitchen chair where Ada usually sat during her visits. “I miss having her around when the weather keeps her away.”
Matthew appeared in the kitchen doorway, shaking snow from his coat. He'd been outside feeding the horses and getting the horse and buggy ready for Wilma. Marriage to Grace had settled him in ways that were visible to everyone. He seemed content and settled.
“The buggy's ready,” he announced. “I loaded extra blankets and put a tarp over everything to keep it dry. Those roads are getting treacherous, though.”
Grace emerged from the front room where she'd been enjoying the warmth of the fire. “Maybe you should wait until tomorrow when the weather clears, Wilma?”
“Gus is expecting us today,” Wilma replied firmly. “Besides, his supplies might be running low, and at his age, missing meals is something he can’t do. Oh, Matthew, did you put firewood in the buggy like we discussed? You know he might not have any firewood that’s dry and, in this weather…”
“Yes, it’s all done. I should come with you. There’s no work to be done in the orchard for the next while. I can’t do anything in this weather.”
Iris felt her stomach tighten at the suggestion. Living in the same house with Matthew and Grace since their marriage two months ago had been more awkward than she'd anticipated. Not because of any remaining romantic feelings—those had been thoroughly resolved when he'd married someone else—but because she wasn't sure how to navigate the friendship, she genuinely wanted to maintain with both of them.
“You stay here, Matthew,” Wilma said briskly, pulling on her heavy winter coat. “Iris and I can handle this just fine. Besides, Grace needs you here to keep the fires going and make sure the animals are taken care of if that predicted storm comes.”
“Okay, but please come straight home if the weather gets worse.”
“We will,” Wilma assured him.
The journey to Gus Miller's place normally took about ten minutes, but today the wind and drifting snow made every mile feel longer. Iris guided the horse carefully along the narrow road, grateful for the animal's sure-footed navigation of the increasingly slippery conditions. Beside her, Wilma sat bundled in heavy quilts, occasionally calling out warnings about patches of ice or fallen branches.
“There's his place,” Wilma said finally, pointing through the swirling snow toward a small, neat house with smoke rising weakly from the chimney.
But as they drew closer, they noticed how bleak the house appeared. They got out and Iris carried the box of food.
“Gus?” Wilma called out as they approached the front porch, her voice carrying clearly in the muffled quiet of the snowfall. “It's Wilma with my granddaughter. We've brought some supplies.”
No answer came from inside the house, though they could hear the faint sound of coughing through the thin walls.
When their knocking produced only more coughing and a weak voice calling, “Come in,” they exchanged concerned glances before pushing open the unlocked door.
Inside, they found Gus huddled in his bed, wrapped in every quilt he owned but still shivering. His face was flushed with fever, his breathing labored, and when he tried to sit up to greet them, he immediately collapsed back against his pillows.
“Oh, Gus,” Wilma said softly, setting down her basket and moving immediately to his bedside. “How long have you been feeling this poorly?”
“Started Monday,” he managed between coughing fits. “Thought it was just a cold, but it keeps getting worse. Can't seem to get warm, no matter how many blankets I pile on.”
Iris looked around the small house with growing concern. The fire in the stove had nearly died out, explaining why the house felt so cold despite the weak smoke they'd seen from outside. Dirty dishes sat on the small table, and it was clear that Gus hadn't been able to keep up with even basic household tasks.
“We need to get you to a doctor,” Wilma said, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand. “You're burning up with fever.”
Gus shook his head weakly. “No money for doctors. Besides, Dr. Patterson doesn't make house calls anymore, not since he got too old to drive the back roads in weather like this.”
“What about Dr. Stevens in town?” Iris asked, already building up the fire and adding logs from the bundle beside the fire.
“He might come out for an emergency, but...” Gus trailed off, another coughing fit seizing him.
Iris looked over at Wilma. “Why don’t we move him to the living room, closer to the fire?”
“Good idea. Is that okay with you, Gus?”
He nodded. “If I can get there.”
They both helped him to the living room and onto the couch where it was much warmer. Iris got the fire blazing again while Wilma heated soup and prepared cool cloths for his fever. But as they worked, both women recognized that Gus needed more medical attention than they could provide.
“The problem is getting him to town in this weather,” Wilma murmured to Iris as they prepared a hot honey and lemon drink. “Or finding a doctor willing to make the trip out here.”
“We have ambulances for situations like this.”
“They do, but for someone like Gus who doesn't have insurance or much money, emergency medical care is complicated. And if the weather gets worse, they might not even be able to get through.”
As they continued caring for the elderly man, the morning passed slowly.
“Best you go home now. I’ll be fine,” Gus told them.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Iris asked.
“I’ll be fine. Someone will be here tomorrow.”
“Let me stay here to care for him until tomorrow,” Iris whispered.
Wilma thought about it for a while. “No. I’ll arrange for Matthew to come and stay here tonight, and I'll let the bishop know that he's not getting any better.”
