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birth date, explaining that since her sister was killed on their Daed’s birthday, her whole family had stopped celebrating those days.
    Emma’s death had shattered far more than their hearts. It had broken traditions and celebrations. It had stolen sleep and peace. What it didn’t steal, it buried under their shock and grief. Her family simply learned how to maneuver with missing limbs.
    Her eyes met Samuel’s, and sadness and guilt faded as love for him captured every thought. Her heart pounded.
    Samuel swiped the back of his thumb across his forehead. “Did you create a new recipe today?”
    She laughed. “Only if you count the ones that list what not to do.”
    He smiled. “Life needs those too, doesn’t it?”
    The conversation moved slowly as they ate. The ends of Samuel’s usually straight hair curled into ringlets as it dried from the melted snow. “It’s after ten, Rhoda. Once we eat and clean up, you need to call it a night, okay?”
    “It’s that late?”
    He nodded.
    She bit her bottom lip, hoping to tease him while keeping a straight face. “Then why didn’t you bring me dinner sooner?”
    “Because you messed up my plans. Gross dank .”
    “You’re very welcome. Anytime you need anything messed up, I’m your girl.”
    Amusement danced in his eyes. “How is it that I like the sound of that at the same time I don’t like the sound of that?”
    “Because you confuse easily.” She raised one eyebrow, aiming to look defiant.
    “Birthday girl or not, don’t give me any lip … uh, eyebrow. I had planned this celebration to be at the house, and I kept waiting on you to arrive, but you never came home.”
    The man was going to drive her crazy, making her feel so unworthy of his kindness, so she decided to do what she did best in these situations—push back. “That’s not true. As long as I’m on this farm, I am home.”
    He grinned, looking as if she’d given him a gift. “I apologize for lying.”
    “And well you should.” She waved her fork in the air. She noticed there was a lumpy blanket over one of the worktables. “Samuel King, have you done something else?”
    “Two things, actually.”
    She pointed at him. “Do not make me yell at you.”
    Samuel laughed. “But I’m so good at it.” His lopsided smile melted her heart. She giggled, nodding in agreement. Thankfully, when they argued, he neither caved because he loved her nor tried to bend her will to his because she was only a woman. He fought fair, and she appreciated it … eventually.
    She eyed the long workbench, noting that whatever was under the king-size blanket was quite bulky. “What is it?”
    “Go see if you must.”
    She crossed the room and removed the blanket. Was she looking at a new kind of apple butter stirrers … automatic ones?
    Samuel stayed seated. “They’re not really a birthday gift, but since they arrived yesterday, I thought I’d surprise you with them.”
    “Are they automated stirrers?”
    “Ya. It’ll take some time to set them up, but they’ll run off solar power, and you’ll be able to set a timer.”
    “Samuel, this had to cost a fortune.”
    “It’ll save you enough time and backbreaking work to be more than worth it. I would’ve gotten them in time for last year’s harvest, but they had to be specially made to fit our Old Order Amish harvest kitchen.”
    “Denki.”
    He nodded, and from seemingly nowhere Samuel slid a gift across the table. “It’s not much.”
    She returned to the table and eased it from him. “Samuel, what else have you done?”
    “Open it and find out.”
    She sat and turned it over, enjoying the beauty and smooth texture of the wrapping paper. It felt like a book of some kind. She wouldn’t blame him if it were a cookbook. She could hardly make anything other than recipes to can. At least those came out delicious and sold really well, shoring up her waning confidence when it came to the kitchen.
    As Rhoda opened the gift, she realized it was a