Chapter 1.
Wilma woke up and put her hand out, reaching for Levi. Her fingers felt the empty space on the cold sheets. Even though he had gone home to Gott eight weeks ago, she still couldn’t get used to the emptiness.
She turned over, away from Levi’s side of the bed. Closing her eyes tightly, she longed for one more day with him. No, not one day. Just one minute. One minute to put her arms around him and have him hold her. One minute to tell him all he meant to her—all he meant to her family. One minute to say nothing at all. Simply to have one minute with him in silence would be enough.
Her hand reached out of the warm bedding to wipe away a tear. She was surprised she had any tears left to shed.
As much as she felt selfish for wallowing in self-pity, she couldn’t help but feel a crushing weight of sadness. Nothing could replace the emptiness that Levi had left. The strange thing was, sometimes it seemed like he’d never been there at all.
She listened now to see if anyone else in the household was awake.
Nothing could be heard except for the distant chirping of birds.
Wilma did what she always did before getting out of bed; she focused on the good in her life.
At least she wasn’t alone in the house. She had Debbie, Levi’s niece, and Debbie’s young son living with her, along with Krystal, a friend of her daughters. They were close like family now.
Wilma moved her legs over the side and sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t lie in bed all day; people relied on her. It would be another day of putting on a brave front and going through the motions, something she was becoming an expert at.
She quickly changed out of her nightgown so she wouldn’t be tempted to fall back into bed and stay there the whole day. Once she was fully dressed, she headed downstairs to the kitchen. Wilma had learned long ago that the best way to take her mind off her problems was to focus on helping others.
Debbie and Krystal were in the kitchen, looking like they’d been awake for hours. Debbie was cooking breakfast while Krystal sat at the table, drinking her morning coffee. She always had at least two cups before leaving for the quilt store.
“Good morning, everyone,” Wilma said cheerily, covering up how she felt.
“Aunt Wilma!” Jared ran at her, nearly knocking her over as he wrapped his arms around her legs. She crouched down and cuddled him. He hugged her tightly, and she closed her eyes and thanked Gott that there was still a child living in her house. Wilma smoothed down his thick mop of dark hair. “Good morning, Jared.”
“Morning, Wilma,” Krystal said.
“Let Aunt Wilma get up,” Debbie told Jared.
Jared did what his mother said and returned to eating his toast at the small children’s table in the corner.
“He’s okay,” Wilma said as she stood. His cuddle had sparked something inside her, and the tears flowed unexpectedly. She sat at the table, hoping no one would notice.
Krystal saw what was happening, jumped up, and hurried to her side. “What’s the matter?”
Wilma sniffed, and before she could speak, Debbie was there with her arm around her. “It’s just that all my daughters have gone now. Levi’s gone. My daughters have gone,” she repeated.
“You’re not alone, Wilma. You have children, step-children, and many grandchildren still living close,” Krystal said. “We’re here too, and we’re not going anywhere.”
“And you have so many friends,” Debbie added.
“Oh, yes, a ton of friends,” Krystal said. “Um, would you like me to stay home with you today? Or you could come to the store with me.”
“You could come to the markets with me. You don’t have to be alone.”
“Denke, both of you. You’ve been such a comfort to me. No, I’ll stay here. Ada will be here soon. I’m sorry. I do try not to cry.”
Krystal sat back down. “There’s nothing wrong with crying. You’ve got to let it out. If you don’t let out your emotions, you can get sick. It’s true!”
“I think I’ve done enough crying. I won’t get sick.”
“Would you like eggs this morning, Wilma?” Debbie asked.
“Maybe a piece of toast. Denke.”
“Coming up.” Debbie walked over to slice the bread.
“Thank you, dear,” Wilma called after her.
“You’ll be okay,” Krystal told Wilma.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m certain,” Krystal said. “I know I’m not as close to you as Ada and your daughters, but I’m here for you, always. So is Debbie.”
“Denke,” Wilma said. “I am so glad you’re both here. I wouldn’t know what to do without the two of you. Not that you have to stay for my benefit. I’m just saying, it’s nice for now.”
Krystal glanced at the clock on the wall. “I should go. You can come to the store with me any time you want. The days go fast with so many customers coming and going.”
“I might one day, but not today.”
“Okay.” Krystal put her mug in the sink, and after giving Wilma a hug and Jared a kiss on the top of his head, she left for work.
Debbie placed two pieces of toast in front of Wilma along with apple jam and butter. Then she sat down beside her. “Jared and I milked the goat and the cow. I thought you might need a break this morning.”
Wilma picked up a piece of toast. “Thank you for that. I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” The truth was, she’d hardly slept at all.
“I feel like I need to do something for you,” Debbie said. “I’m not sure what.”
Wilma gazed at Debbie with an intense look, but then her face softened. “I love you.” Wilma was determined to enjoy every moment with Debbie before some young man wanted her as his wife.
“I love you, too,” Debbie said, fighting back the tears. She was well aware that Wilma was never affectionate like this. In all the years Debbie had lived there, she’d never heard Wilma say she loved anyone.
Jared walked over to Wilma and put the blocks he’d been playing with in front of her. He looked into her face. “You can have my blocks.”
Wilma sniffed. “You’re a kind boy.”
“Onkel Levi is with Gott in Heaven. Isn’t he, Mamm?” Jared looked over at Debbie.
“He is.”
Wilma smiled. “I know. Thank you for reminding me, Jared.”
“Eat more toast, Jared. We have to leave soon,” Debbie said.
Jared sat back down, leaving his blocks with Wilma.
Wilma took a few more deep breaths, embarrassed that she’d been crying in front of them.
