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them.”
    Second-grader Martha and first-grader Ada adamantly shook their heads when Mattie glanced at them for confirmation.
    “They were going to,” Viola proclaimed.
    “Okay—this is enough.” Mattie was tired of the conversation. “Your attitude is bad. When you get spanked, you don’t make faces at other people. It’s not their fault. It’s your own fault. And don’t be changing your story.”
    “I didn’t,” Viola insisted. “They just want to see me spanked again.”
    “No, we don’t,” Martha and Ada said together.
    “Yes, they do,” Viola quickly added. “They don’t like me.”
    Mattie was already moving, taking Viola along by the arm, ignoring her remark.
    Preparing warm water in the sink, Rebecca squeezed a few drops of Ivory liquid soap in and shut off the faucet. “Use this water,” she told her sisters. They already knew how it was done, but conversation was needed at the moment. Normal conversation on normal things to give one the hope that things would again be normal.
    The front door opened as Martha and Ada were wiping the table down. Rebecca was doing a quick check on the cinnamon rolls in the oven, when Matthew walked in. “Awful quiet in here,” he commented, standing in the kitchen door opening.
    “Viola’s getting spanked,” Martha said soberly.
    “Two times,” Ada echoed.
    “A tough cookie,” Matthew said.
    “Maybe this one will be enough,” Rebecca told them comfortingly, sincerely hoping that it was.
    “Two times.” Matthew whistled under his breath. “Who likes whoopings that much?”
    “We learn different,” Rebecca said, venturing a guess.
    “But that’s a hard way,” Matthew replied, a bit puzzled. Still thinking about it, he glanced toward the bedroom door where the sounds of discipline were subsiding.
    “You learn hard in some things too,” Rebecca reminded him.
    Lost in his own world, Matthew’s face brightened. “It’s because she’s a girl,” he pronounced. “ Girls learn hard.”
    Rebecca glared at him. “You have your hard spots too.”
    He ignored her.
    “He turned red today,” Martha whispered quietly in Rebecca’s direction, just loud enough for Matthew to hear, though he pretended not to.
    “As she walked by him, his ears turned pink,” Martha added, chuckling at the memory.
    Matthew still was pretending not to hear, his ears still red.
    “He’s just growing up,” Rebecca whispered back to Martha, making sure it was loud enough to carry to Matthew.
    “It’s not my fault. Like a whooping,” he finally protested, anger flashing in his face.
    “Maybe it’s not totally Viola’s fault either,” Rebecca said, raising her eyebrows in his direction.
    He was still pondering that when Mattie returned with Viola, the tears dried this time.
    “Tell them,” Mattie said simply, her words at a minimum. The afternoon was slipping away and supper was still not done.
    “Sorry for the face,” Viola said, her eyes on the floor.
    “Okay—that’s better,” Mattie sighed. “Now let’s get busy with supper. Rebecca, you and Matthew need to start chores, don’t you?”
    Rebecca glanced at the clock and nodded.
    “I’ll get changed,” Matthew said, leaving for the upstairs and carefully shutting the door behind him. Viola took a seat at the kitchen table, catching her breath as the others went about their work. Slowly she came back into their world, and the minutes went by without further comment on the incident.

C HAPTER E IGHT

     
    T hrough the kitchen window, Rachel could see Luke open and shut the barn door and begin the chores for the evening. There was no sign of Reuben yet, but she had no doubt he would be returning soon from town, hopefully with the correct part for his broken water main.
    God, she prayed, don’t let Emma destroy our lives. Luke deserves better than this. Remember my child. Please. Even if You don’t remember me.
    Rachel’s salad bowl was on the table. The teakettle whistled loudly, its steam pushing