reducing verbiage, even when she understood his ideas.
Isaiah downed his coffee in two swallows and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Jah. You, Cat, Lorr, and Jake pick.” He peered from under his dark lashes. His eyes could have drilled holes through her if she hadn’t broken the connection.
The way he looked at her…it is the look that passes between lovers, between those who are courting and will someday marry. Catherine shivered, even though no breeze stirred the wind chimes overhead. She held up an index finger, made a swishing motion over his empty plate and bowl, and then fled inside with cheeks ablaze. What was happening here? Wasn’t she supposed to be improving his communication skills? Bringing the man out of his reclusion to enjoy the camaraderie of family and friends? Daniel had long since left for his chores, yet nevertheless she kept glancing over her shoulder while she washed the breakfast dishes. She knew for certain he wouldn’t like the way Isaiah looked at her.
Drying her hands, Catherine dismissed the notion. No doubt she was imagining things. How many times had she misinterpreted a simple act of kindness or a sidelong glance during a preaching service that had been intended for another?
At twenty-three I might be older but no wiser, she thought. “Laura, Jake, where are you? Let’s go berry picking.”
The children bounded into the kitchen at speeds that belied their short legs. “Blackberries? Is it that time?” Laura jumped up and down. “Mamm always takes us to the back pasture fence. Then we make blackberry pie and blackberry pancakes. And she stirs some into our milk too.”
Catherine didn’t think she would appreciate anything floating in her milk, but Laura’s excitement knew no bounds. It only increased when she spotted Isaiah on the porch through the screen.
“Isaiah,” Laura shrieked and ran out the door, followed by her shadow, Jake. She threw her arms around his waist.
Catherine tucked stray hairs beneath her kapp and sprayed insect repellant on her neck instead of body mist. She slipped it into her apron pocket to use on the kinner.
“Hullo, Lorr,” said Isaiah, returning her hug shyly. He handed her a bucket.
“Ready, Cat?” he asked, meeting her eye. His words were low and guttural, yet recognizable. Considering he had never heard two barn cats howling at each other, she didn’t mind the nickname.
“Ready,” she said, picking up a pail. Catherine thought the walk to the berry patch would be a perfect opportunity to gauge Isaiah’s lip-reading abilities. She would ask short, direct questions without a companion action to see which words he recognized. Perhaps by day’s end she would have determined which vowel sounds were harder for him to discern.
Too bad Isaiah couldn’t read her mind. With his long strides and the kinner running beside him, she was soon left in the dust on the pasture lane. As Laura chattered away, oblivious to the fact no one was listening, Isaiah loped along, taking in the sights and smells of a summer day. He sniffed low-hanging dogwood branches and plucked buttercups growing along the fence line.
Catherine, however, marched as fast as she could without running. She had no wish to sweat heavily during the outing. When the threesome disappeared around a bend in the path, she grew annoyed. Am I not the nanny? Aren’t these children my responsibility to keep safe? Hadn’t Isaiah extended the invitation to include me?
She fumed until she rounded the bend and discovered her companions waiting in the shade. Each held a different colored nosegay of weeds—Jake’s were purple ajuga, Laura white yarrow, while Isaiah presented yellow buttercups he’d pulled up by the roots. With a blush, she accepted the gifts.
“Hurry, Aunt Catherine,” demanded Laura, “before the birds eat all the berries.”
Catherine held her skirt up with one hand to keep pace with the group. “Looks like we won’t have to worry about sharing,” she answered as they reached the pasture fence. Stretching for fifty yards, briar bushes hung over the split rails. “Oh, my,” she gushed. She’d never seen such a rich harvest. Honeybees buzzed in and out among the late flowers while the fruit glistened with the last of the morning dew. And not a single blue jay in sight!
Isaiah hooted as he handed Jake his pail. The four spread out and began picking. For the first twenty minutes, they ate as many as they gathered. When they had eaten their fill, they concentrated on filling the buckets with berries to take home. Abby kept an eye on