that’s when the wasp decided to frost the cake.” Her eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth.
“Are you laughing at my misfortune, Aunt Iris?”
“Jah, I suppose I am. Mir leid.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’ll laugh at myself too once this pain goes away.”
She clucked her tongue. “I’ll get you some dry clothes. There’s a folded pile on the steps, waiting to be taken upstairs.”
By the time she returned, the throbbing in his neck had begun to subside. “Danki,” he said, sitting down at the table.
“You’re welcome.” Iris ladled beef soup into two bowls. The broth smelled deliciously of onions and celery, but he spotted little meat among the carrots and potatoes.
“Is there no beef left in the freezer?” he asked, feeling guilty. It was one thing to ask her to cook meals and quite another to ask her to spin gold out of straw.
“Not too much, so I’m trying to stretch it until you’re ready to take a cow to the meat processor. I know you need all your milking heifers.”
“I’ll bring you a chicken for supper.” He ladled up vegetables and broth.
She leveled her gaze over the kerosene lamp. “Don’t you need your laying hens for eggs? I can sell extra eggs to your English neighbors to bring in a little money.”
Shame rose up this throat like acid indigestion. “We need to eat, Aunt Iris. Man…and woman…cannot live by potatoes and carrots alone.” He took a long drink of water. At least spring water is still free.
“I’ll send a note to my son to bring over a beef quarter. He took one of his steers to the packinghouse last month, besides the male spring calves. The freezer in his cellar is full.”
Nathan sopped up broth with half a slice of bread. “All right, but I’ll reimburse my cousin for the meat. I’m not taking handouts. Folks in the district have already done enough by taking care of a large chunk of the hospital bill. I intend to pay my own way in this world.”
Iris buttered a piece of bread. “In that case, you can go to town and buy more baby formula. I need both the powdered kind and the pre-mixed to take along when we leave for the day.”
“More formula already? We just bought fifty dollars’ worth.” Nathan didn’t begrudge food for his son, but the cost of English baby products was ridiculous.
“That boy has a healthy appetite. I can’t very well feed him chicken and dumplings yet.”
With the mention of solid food, Abraham started crying in the other room. Before Nathan had a chance to enjoy his bowl of canned peaches, Iris retrieved the noisy child and foisted him into his father’s arms.
“I’m still eating, Aunt Iris,” Nathan complained, positioning the child into the crook of his elbow. But Abraham didn’t stop crying.
“So am I,” she said. “Try your best while I finish, and then I’ll feed him his lunch.” She smiled sweetly and returned to her soup.
“He doesn’t like being held by his daed.” Nathan set down his spoon and began bouncing the child on his knee.
“Only because he’s not used to you.” She spooned up one piece of carrot. At this pace, she wouldn’t finish lunch until Christmas. “The more time you hold him, Nathan, the more he’ll grow accustomed to you. Then he won’t cry so much.”
“I can’t very well strap a boppli onto my back like a papoose while I work the fields. Bopplin are a woman’s business, not a man’s.”
“All my sons take pride in their kinner. All have spent time walking the floor with colicky babies and when teething makes for plenty of sleepless nights. The Lord provides two parents for a reason.”
“Your sons never had to bury a wife. They don’t know what that’s like, and God willing, they’ll never have to find out.”
Just then, Abraham stopped fussing for a short while and gazed at his father. But Nathan didn’t notice his son. He met the gaze of his aunt instead.
Iris picked up her bowl and drank the broth. Then she speared the remaining carrots with her fork. “True enough, but your son needs a father, not just his old gefunden.”
The sound of crunching gravel beyond the kitchen window broke the stalemate between the two. “A car has pulled up to the house. I’d better go see who it is. Maybe that English social worker has come back to check for diaper rash again.” He passed the baby to Iris. Upon the exchange, the boy began to wail as though he’d been pinched.