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must’ve noticed her father’s more reverent attitude, because she looked with wide eyes across at Rose, then up at her father. “We’re having stew, Daddy,” she announced.
    “Nice and thick,” Rose added, letting him know he could manage this meal pretty easily.
    “Smells great.” Brandon offered a rare smile. “So does the corn bread.” He touched his slice lightly with his left hand after Mattie Sue told him where it was on his plate. His right arm would still be in a cast for a few more weeks, according to yesterday’s doctor visit. Hen had given the family an update last evening.
    “Daddy’s getting along real gut, ” Mattie Sue told them, grinning at him. “Ain’t so?”
    Brandon colored slightly at the comment, then thanked Mammi Sylvia, who filled his bowl with the vegetable beef stew. It certainly was heartier than usual; Mammi must have had Brandon in mind when she made it.
    Mamm leaned forward slightly in her wheelchair. “Son, it’s so nice to have you join us for dinner,” she said softly, pausing before she added, “You’re welcome anytime.”
    “Denki, Mammi Emma,” said Mattie Sue.
    “My daughter and I appreciate it, Emma,” Brandon said, a small smile on his lips as he seemed to recognize Mattie Sue’s efforts on his behalf.
    A lull followed when the only sounds were the clinking of spoons against bowls and the soft thud of water tumblers on the table. Then Brandon surprised Rose by speaking again. “Emma,” he said, “I understand you’re scheduled to have back surgery next week.”
    “That’s right.”
    “I do hope it goes well.”
    “Denki, so kind of you, Brandon.”
    He paused, his spoon buried in the stew. “How have you managed the pain . . . all these years?” His words came cautiously.
    “Well, I have to say it hasn’t been easy.” Mamm breathed out in a little hiss, as if she was trying to keep herself in check, suffering right at that moment. “Think of taking a crumb from a piece of bread and nibbling it, one small piece each bite,” she replied. “Sometimes you just have to live an hour or so at a time, trusting the Lord will help you through. I don’t know any other way, really.”
    “My wife can’t tolerate pain medication,” Dat added, “which makes things even more difficult.”
    Mattie Sue piped up. “But Beth’s prayers—and her dream—helped Mammi Emma want to go to the doctor again. Ain’t so, Mammi?”
    “Now, Mattie Sue.” Brandon touched her arm.
    “No . . . no, it’s all right,” said Mamm quickly. “She’s quite right.” She explained how Beth Browning’s dream of her healing had spurred her to seek out professional help at long last. “The dear Lord used that girl’s dream—and prayerful spirit—to open my eyes.”
    Rose held her breath at Mamm’s words. Truth was, they were all praying for God to open Brandon’s eyes, as well. And not only his physical ones.
    “You’ve been so gracious in your suffering,” Brandon said. “Hen says you’ve never been anything else.”
    “The Lord helps Emma each and every day,” Dat stated. He patted Mamm’s hand.
    “Surely does,” Mammi Sylvia said, shaking her head.
    “Don’t see how she could’ve managed this long otherwise,” Dawdi Jeremiah added, holding his bowl out for seconds. Rose quickly reached for the ladle.
    “I don’t, either.” Brandon shook his head, as if in awe.
    Rose hadn’t expected this sort of response from Brandon at all. And for the rest of the meal, he seemed subdued. Several times, Mamm talked to him exclusively, attempting to draw him out.
    Rose smiled to herself, grateful for Brandon’s kindly responses to Mamm’s sweetness.
    Has Brandon’s heart begun to soften?

W hile she worked at Rachel’s Fabrics, Hen found herself recalling yesterday’s follow-up doctor visit. It had offered Brandon some encouragement, but not what he’d wanted to hear: Patience and rest were strongly emphasized. “Clearly more time is needed,” the