the youngsters to make sure they didn’t entangle themselves in the thicket, but both knew how to pluck the low berries without encountering too many thorns.
“Enough?” asked Isaiah, over Catherine’s shoulder.
She started, not realizing he’d come up behind her. “Jah, more than enough. I had no idea the Grabers owned this goldmine.”
He plucked one firm berry and inspected it carefully before pressing it to her lips. Without thinking, she chomped down like a fish taking a baited hook. “Danki,” she murmured, hoping Laura wasn’t watching. But the child worked diligently as Isaiah fed Catherine berry after berry as though she were incapable of eating on her own. She felt a rush of exhilaration as she plucked a ripe fruit for him. She should discourage his boldness, yet she couldn’t seem to muster the energy. When she fed him a second berry, he bit lightly down on her fingertip. He laughed while she flushed with embarrassment.
“Stop that,” she hissed under her breath. “Load your bucket, and then we’d better head back.” Before Daniel notices we’re gone. They picked for another ten minutes, swatting at mosquitoes and wiping the back of their necks. Then Isaiah took Laura’s hand. “Come,” he instructed and lifted both children over the fence. He climbed over effortlessly and made a motion for Catherine to follow.
“Come where?” she asked, her brows knitting together above her nose.
Isaiah strode toward the scrub pines, holding his bucket and Jake’s hand. Laura ran ahead, spilling berries as she swung her pail like a pendulum.
“Where are you all going?” She hollered to no avail. “There are still plenty more here to pick.” But because Isaiah couldn’t hear her and the kinner didn’t appear to want to, she had no choice but to climb over the fence too. It was neither a graceful nor ladylike maneuver. By the time she caught up with them, she was perspiring and had a horde of gnats swarming around her head.
“Where are you going?” she asked, catching Isaiah’s sleeve.
He stopped abruptly to face her, holding up his index finger as she had done this morning to signal patience. Then he flicked the tip of her nose and resumed hiking.
After a quick glance over her shoulder, Catherine grabbed Laura’s hand and followed. Curiosity had gotten the better of her. They walked not in the direction of Isaiah’s cabin but toward the neighboring property. A fast-moving stream separated the two farms, more or less creating the property line. Tall sycamores and cottonwoods lined the riverbank, while the namesake white fluff floated on the breeze as they drew close. On the western side, catching plenty of sun while being sheltered from the strong burning rays, stood another stand of briars. Although smaller than the first patch, its location along the river provided optimum conditions. The berries were the largest she’d ever seen.
Catherine began picking as though part of some race or competition. Soon they had all filled their buckets to overflowing. When she glanced over at Isaiah, he was watching her. He pressed his finger to his lips and said, “Ssshhhh.”
She didn’t have to ask him what he meant. This patch of blackberry bushes would be their secret. He wouldn’t bring anyone else here and neither should she. She nodded eagerly, loving that she shared a secret with him. She’d become his trusted confidante. And judging by the way he walked at her side on the way home, she’d also become his friend. Although he attempted no conversation, his sparkling eyes told plenty.
Back in the Graber yard, Catherine took everyone’s berries to the porch to be washed and sorted later. The ripest would be eaten tonight with sugar and cream, and then the remaining would be baked into pies or canned. When she came back to find Laura and Jake, they were taking turns on the swing. Isaiah pushed one, then the other on the oak slat hanging from the tree. Patient and careful were his efforts so that Jake didn’t fall off or Laura swing too high.
Catherine watched them from the shade, wishing she didn’t have to start cooking or get the two children washed up for supper. Truthfully, she wished this idyllic summer day would never end. But before she could curtail their playtime, Isaiah sent them inside the house in his special nonverbal manner. Neither child argued but headed toward the porch hand in hand.
She scrambled to her feet, planning to thank him for the afternoon.
“Cat,” he voiced and pointed at the swing.
“Oh, no. I’d better go inside