Breath of Spring (22 page)

“It might be best if we talk to the kids about your hair tonight,” Bishop Tom said as the rig rolled down the road toward his farm. “While ya look real
gut,
all things considered, they’re gonna ask about why you’re tyin’ your
kapp
strings. It’s better to tell them straight-out while I’m around, rather than you gettin’ caught short by their curious questions, ain’t so?”

Annie Mae sighed. She had
so
hoped to give this matter a rest for a while. “All right. I suppose that might be best,” she murmured. “Josh and Joey aren’t ones to miss my
kapp
fittin’ different than it used to, now that ya mention it.”

“They’ve been helpin’ me fetch the cows’ water and feed, so I’ll steer them out to the barn first thing,” he agreed. “That’ll give ya time to answer Jerusalem and Naz’s questions, too. Those two were fit to be tied when they heard the squeal of Yonnie’s tires and saw him takin’ out down the road with ya.”

Annie Mae felt like a target that everybody in Willow Ridge would be aiming at over the next few days . . . but at least they would all rally behind her, too. Wasn’t that why she’d insisted on joining the church, after all?

The bishop’s rig wasn’t but halfway to the barn before the back door of his house flew open. Nellie and the kids raced outside, clamoring her name, while Jerusalem and Nazareth hurried toward her at a more sedate pace. Their concern for her had etched their wrinkles deeper this afternoon, it seemed, and as the kids threw open the buggy door, their little voices told the tale.

“Annie Mae! Annie Mae!” little Timmy and Sara cried as they clambered into her lap.

“Did ya go to Dat’s house?” Joey asked as he stepped up beside her.

“Was that nasty Delilah there?” his twin demanded as he stood on her other side.

Nellie hung back a few feet, her eyes riveted to the bow beneath Annie Mae’s chin. “We um, prayed real long and hard for ya,” she murmured.

“Oh, but it’s
gut
to see your sweet face!” Nazareth gushed, while Jerusalem studied her closely. “We surely did wonder what might be happenin’—”

While everyone was talking at once, Bishop Tom came around to the passenger side of the buggy and held up his hand for silence. “Your sister’s had a rough afternoon, kids,” he began. “But thanks to Adam and the sheriff—and that nice Officer McClatchey who came when you twins had your sleigh wreck—and thanks to your prayers,” he added with a smile for Nellie and the two older women, “Annie Mae came through her time of trial. But your
dat
and Delilah cut off her hair, so we need to be extra nice to—”

“He
what?
” Nazareth and Jerusalem chorused. Nellie’s hand flew to her mouth. The boys and little Sara got very quiet. Their faces grew somber.

Annie Mae closed her eyes to keep from crying again. But wasn’t it better that everyone heard this story at once, so they could work it through their systems—and so she, too, could move beyond today’s traumatic events?

“Lemme see!” Timmy blurted as he grabbed for her
kapp
strings.

“Timmy, you leave your sister’s
kapp
alone!” Nazareth said as she rushed forward to grab him. “Boys are
not
to meddle with girls’ prayer coverings—”

“It’s all right,” Annie Mae murmured as she closed her hands around her little brother’s inquisitive fingers. “Let me out of the rig, so this’ll be easier.”

Nellie steered the twins backward while Nazareth took Sara and Bishop Tom hoisted Timmy to his shoulder. Annie Mae stepped to the ground, turned her back to everyone, and then slowly removed her
kapp
. “Rebecca showed me how to pin my hair,” she explained in the strongest voice she could muster. “And—and she found a place to donate my braid, so a kid with cancer can have a wig made from it, so I—”

Nazareth clutched her shoulder. “My stars, I never dreamed I’d see the day when your
dat
got so out of hand that he—”

“Do ya want to say what-all happened?” Jerusalem asked quietly. “Or would ya rather let sleepin’ dogs lie?”

Everyone behind her got quiet—gawking at the pin curls clinging to her head, no doubt. Annie Mae couldn’t help but notice how subdued Jerusalem sounded . . . and as she heard Nellie quietly crying, it seemed best to reveal all the details. Much as she hated to consider it, her
dat
might make these women his next victims because they were taking care of
her
. They should know exactly how low Hiram Knepp would stoop . . . how reprehensible he had become.

Annie Mae gazed into Bishop Tom’s eyes for strength. “Yonnie knew all along how Dat intended to . . . humiliate me,” she recounted. “Soon as he shoved me into the kitchen, Dat started in with his list of ways I’d sinned against him. I started hollerin’ when Dat said he’d take me down a peg or two by cuttin’ off my hair—broke away from Yonnie and then grabbed a saltshaker and threw it at him, hopin’ to run off—but he ducked. So it crashed through the window. And he grabbed me again.”

Annie Mae took a deep breath to still her racing heartbeat. While that window glass had broken, just as her heart and soul had shattered at that terrifying moment . . . she had endured and survived. She had been spared. And she now stood among the folks she loved best, safe again. This realization gave her the strength to go on.

“While Yonnie held my arms down, Dat snatched off my
kapp
so Delilah could unpin my braid. I . . . I fought them as best I could—”

“Ya didn’t stand a chance with all
those
heathens workin’ against ya,” Jerusalem muttered.

“—but Dat flipped open a straight razor—”

Nellie’s whimper made Annie Mae wonder if she should stop, but Tom nodded his encouragement. “When did Adam come in? And the police?” he asked gently. “You’re doin’ fine, Annie Mae. We’re all in this with ya.”

She recalled the fierce outrage on Adam’s face when he’d burst through the door. “Adam, bless his soul, came rushin’ in with the sheriff and Officer McClatchey behind him, or . . . well, we can’t worry about what might’ve happened if you folks hadn’t called them—and if ya hadn’t been prayin’ so hard for me,” Annie Mae added quickly. “When Delilah held up my braid, Dat whacked it off before the police or Adam could stop him. It was Adam who saved my braid, though . . . and who got me out of there and took me to Ben and Miriam’s.”

She left out the motorcycle, as that was Adam’s story to tell. And she didn’t want to repeat the part where Dat had disowned her and said she was no longer a child of God, either. Not in front of Nellie and the kids.

Tom squeezed her shoulder. “While I’m supposed to say God’s will is bein’ carried out, and that we’re to forgive your
dat
for what he’s done,” the bishop addressed them quietly, “I’ve never seen the likes of such dangerous hatred. The best we can do is pray on it now, askin’ God to keep us all safe and to shine His light on our darkness—and to shine on Hiram’s darkness, as well.” Tom bowed his head, leading the rest of them.

After a few moments, with only the breeze riffling the trees and the shuffling of the cows in the milking barn to break their silence, everyone opened their eyes. Annie Mae tied her
kapp
on again and turned to face the others. “It’s
gut
to be here—”

“I don’t
never
want to go to Dat’s house again!” Joey blurted as he grabbed her around the waist.

“Didn’t I tell ya how mean Delilah was?” Josh bleated as he clutched Annie Mae from the other side.

Their remarks cut her deeply. Five-year-olds shouldn’t say such things about their father or the . . . young woman he had chosen to be their keeper. But it was a reminder to Annie Mae that she wasn’t the only Knepp child who had suffered. Didn’t Sara and Timmy still have faded scars from the switchings Delilah had given them? Didn’t Nellie still cry herself to sleep now and again?

“We six kids have each other,” Annie Mae murmured as she hugged the boys close. “And we’re blessed to be livin’ with Naz and Jerusalem and Bishop Tom, here in Willow Ridge where folks consider us
family.
So don’t you worry about a thing, because God’s brought us this far and He’s not gonna leave us in the lurch. Do ya believe that?”

As each of her siblings met her gaze and nodded solemnly, Annie Mae drank in their earnest expressions . . . their dear, sweet innocence . . . their love and trust. And because she knew how they depended upon her to be strong, she would find a way to protect them. To nurture them. To set aside her own anguish and put these kids first in her life.

There was simply no other way for her to go on.

Saturday morning, Adam stood in Ben Hooley’s barn trying not to grin like an idiot. Trent Searcy, the English fellow Officer McClatchey had mentioned, kept circling the motorcycle, saying what fabulous condition it was in as he ran his fingers over the leather and chrome and studded saddlebags. “This Indian Chief dates back to the early forties!” he exclaimed as he shook his head incredulously. “Do you have
any idea
what this bike’s worth?”

Adam knew a loaded question when he heard one, from a man who probably assumed Amish folks were clueless about real-world matters. Searcy was dressed in jeans and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, with a silver-spangled beard and shoulder-length ponytail. “
Jah,
I do,” he replied. “I could sell it on eBay for about thirty thousand. Since all the money’s going as a charitable donation, though, I’m hoping for more than that.”

When Searcy stopped circling to look at him straight-on, Adam wondered if he’d inflated the price too much, trying to help Annie Mae. He hadn’t told anything but the truth, however: thanks to Rebecca’s research, he had stated a fair market value—his bottom line—and had left this fellow some wiggle room. He really, really didn’t want to bother Rebecca with an eBay transaction, but—

“What sort of a charity are we talking about?”

Again Adam hoped not to overstate his case. “We’ve got a young, single girl in town who’s been left to raise her five brothers and sisters,” he explained. “The bike’s been sitting under a tarp in my barn, not doing me one bit of
gut,
but this sort of cash will help keep her family fed and together. She’s not one to accept handouts, but working full-time at the Sweet Seasons across the road won’t pay their bills, either. Especially if any of them gets sick.”

“Ate an awesome breakfast over there this morning,” Searcy remarked as he rubbed his stomach. “Randy McClatchey told me not to miss it.”

“Chances are this gal was your waitress. But I want to keep this between you and me, and keep her name out of it, understand,” Adam insisted. “If she knew what I was doing, she’d refuse my help. She’s stubborn that way.”

Searcy’s laughter made Ben’s horses look up from the hay they were munching. “I like her already! Will you take a check? Or shall I go to the bank in New Haven and get you the cash?”

Somehow Adam kept from whooping and jumping up and down, even though no amount had been mentioned. Trent Searcy had the air of being well-off, but a check for thirty thousand dollars—
thirty thousand dollars!
—could bounce mighty high if it wasn’t any good. He wanted to be cautious without seeming not to trust this English guy. “I have my accounts there, too, so why don’t we both go?” Adam reasoned aloud. “It’ll save me the trip to make the deposit. And if I put the money directly into her account, she can’t argue with me, can she?”

Trent extended his hand. “I like the way you operate, Adam. Let’s go to the bank, and then swing by home for my trailer.”

During the short ride, Adam answered Trent’s questions about Willow Ridge and his remodeling business. When they got to the bank, he remained in the lobby while Trent handled the transaction with the teller. She was a lady he often made his remodeling deposits with, and after a few moments she called him over to the window. “Is this money being deposited into your business account, Adam?” she asked. “We can transfer it electronically, if you’d like.”

“Not my account, no. I don’t have a number with me, but . . .” Adam paused. He hadn’t mentioned Annie Mae’s name previously, thinking to protect her privacy if Officer McClatchey had told his friend about Hiram Knepp’s misdeeds. But then . . . if Trent’s check was good, surely his intentions were, too. “Move it into Annie Mae Knepp’s account.”

“Certainly. What a sweet, hardworking girl,” she remarked as she tapped on her keyboard. Then she slid a form across the counter. “If you’ll sign here, beneath Mr. Searcy’s signature, we’ll be all set. I’ll have your deposit slip momentarily.”

Adam picked up a pen on the counter. He skimmed the document, saw the amount—and then stared at Trent. “That . . . that’s
very
generous of you, sir,” he rasped. “Thanks a
lot
.”

Searcy winked. “That addition to your donation helps me justify my vintage motorcycle hobby,” he said. “I admire the way you Amish watch out for each other. And if you’ve got any business cards, Adam, I’d like to throw some work your way when the opportunities arise. Family-owned businesses are the backbone of this region, and it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep them profitable.”

Adam couldn’t argue with that. And when all was said and done, and Trent Searcy was rolling down the county blacktop with the black motorcycle on the trailer behind his Navigator, Adam couldn’t dispute the deposit slip in his hand, either.

Thirty-five thousand dollars!

It would be a challenge not to share this news with Rebecca or Ben or Miriam or Bishop Tom—but Adam didn’t want to take the slightest chance that Annie Mae would hear about his deposit secondhand. And now that the deed was done, the biggest challenge was getting her to accept his gift in the spirit with which he’d given it.

He needed to find the perfect time and place to tell her....

At the end of the church service, Ben watched their deacon, Reuben Riehl, stand to give some announcements. On this springtime Sunday, with the windows open and a gentle cross breeze keeping the crowd comfortable, he was again pleased to be hosting church in the home he’d built for Miriam . . . happy about how the placement of the windows and the house’s position on a ridge provided welcome circulation of fresh air in their home as the weather got warmer.

“It’s my pleasure to announce the upcoming wedding of Bishop Vernon Gingerich to Jerusalem Hooley,” Reuben said in a voice that carried over the large crowd. “They’ve set Thursday, April seventeenth, as their date.”

Ben elbowed Vernon, who sat beside him with a boyish grin on his face. “Marryin’ on her birthday, eh?” he whispered.

“I’ll never forget our anniversary that way,” the white-bearded bishop admitted as they rose for Bishop Tom’s benediction. “Two celebrations, two gifts—and a day I’ve vowed to devote to my wife each year when it rolls around. Life’s meant to be celebrated.”

After Tom had pronounced his final words of the church service, he called for a brief Members’ Meeting. “While this isn’t something that requires a vote, I feel it’s a matter all of us need to be aware of,” he said. His serious tone immediately had folks focusing more intently on him.

Tom glanced toward the women’s side. “There’s no easy way to say this and spare Annie Mae’s feelings,” he began, “but she’s agreed to let me tell ya that Yonnie Stoltzfus abducted her last Thursday. And when he took her to Higher Ground, Hiram . . . her father cut off her hair.”

The women sucked in their breath and turned to gaze at Annie Mae, seated in their midst. The men sat taller, outrage evident on their faces.

“She’s handlin’ it real well,” Tom went on, “but this incident should make us all more aware of the trouble that might come to her and Nellie and the kids—or to any of us here in Willow Ridge. I’m askin’ ya to be more vigilant,” he continued in a more insistent voice. “We called the local law officers, but that didn’t keep this sacrilege from happenin’—and it only made Hiram that much madder. Your prayers and consideration’ll be greatly appreciated. Enough said. Let’s enjoy our common meal.”

Everyone rose then, and chatter about Hiram’s latest affront filled the large room. As the women clustered around Annie Mae, Nellie, and little Sara, their expressions bespoke their dismay—and their support. Ben strolled toward Adam Wagler, who’d spent the morning with Joey and Josh Knepp on either side of him, while Timmy had been perched in his lap. “And how’re you fellas on this fine day?” Ben asked the boys.

“We’re
gut,
” came the unanimous, if subdued, reply.

“Ready for dinner and some runnin’ around outside, most likely,” Ben remarked as he winked at Adam.

“I wanna play
now,
” Timmy crowed as Adam set him on the floor.

“Take some of the bigger boys, then,” Ben advised. “Maybe Levi and Cyrus Zook—”

“And Brett!” one of the twins piped up. Gazing between the men who were setting up tables, he beckoned eagerly to Andy Leitner’s boy.

“But we’ve gotta stay out of the mud and the poop,” his look-alike declared, “or Annie Mae’ll have our hides. She just made us these new church clothes.”

“And ya look mighty fine in them, too,” Ben replied as he noted their black pants and the vests they wore over crisp white shirts. “Go out and have your fun for about fifteen minutes—but if somebody pulls into the lane, I want ya to skedaddle back in here, all right?”

The boys nodded and shot out the door.

Ben sighed, glancing at Adam. “Never thought I’d see the day when I had to warn our youngsters about folks who might snatch them while they’re playin,” he said. “Especially when it’s a parent we’re talkin’ about.”

“I hate scaring them about their
dat,
too,” Adam replied as he looked across the room. “Annie Mae seems to be holding up pretty well. Doesn’t want to upset the younger ones by showing her own fear, most likely.”

A movement caught his eye, and Ben turned to see Miriam scurrying along the edge of the crowded room toward the
dawdi haus
wing. And why would she be going into Rebecca’s rooms while the rest of the women were in the kitchen unwrapping the food they’d brought? Ben smiled . . . saw an opportunity to spend a few moments alone with his beautiful bride. “Excuse me a minute,” he murmured as he slipped away from Adam.

When he passed through the door Miriam had closed, Ben had
not
expected to hear a miserable gurgling coming from the bathroom—nor was he prepared to see his wife doubled over the toilet. He joined her, steadying her as she finished vomiting. “Honey-girl, I had no idea ya were feelin’ poorly—”

“Me neither,” Miriam rasped as she righted herself. “Sure hope I’ve not caught a flu bug. Or maybe those eggs in the breakfast casserole were bad.”

Ben considered this as she rinsed her mouth and splashed cool water on her flushed face. He’d devoured a second serving of that same casserole, and
his
stomach was rumbling because it was time for dinner. . . .

His heart skipped into a quicker rhythm as he handed her a towel. “Is there somethin’ you’d like to tell me, perty girl?”

Miriam blotted her face. “What’re
you
thinkin’?”

Barely able to control his grin, Ben gently grasped her shoulders. “Well, we
have
been havin’ our share of fun before we go to sleep at night,” he hinted.

Miriam’s jaw dropped even as she shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think I could possibly be—not after all those years when Jesse and I couldn’t—”

“I’m not Jesse.” Ben pulled her close, so excited he could barely breathe. “Could it be that
you
weren’t the reason no more Lantz kids came along?”

Her grip tightened as an “ooohhhh” escaped her. When Miriam gazed up at him, her dear face was turning three shades of pink. She was trying not to cry—or was she laughing? It was one of the sweetest things Ben had ever seen, and he knew he’d remember this moment forever.

“You keep this under your hat, Mister Benjamin Hooley!” she insisted. “We don’t know for sure what’s goin’ on, and I don’t want a false alarm gettin’ everybody all stirred up for nothin’.”

Ben hugged her close again. “Whatever you say, Missus Benjamin Hooley,” he teased. Then he kissed her temple . . . kissed her slowly on the lips. “I love ya more than life itself,” he whispered. “And every day I spend with ya, Miriam, I can’t wait to see what happens next. Now you’ve
really
got me wonderin’. But your secret’s safe with me.”

Miriam swatted his backside and turned him toward the door. “Get back out there before folks think we’re foolin’ around in here. A gal’s gotta use the bathroom once in a while, after all. That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.”

Ben did as he was told, valiantly trying to keep a telltale grin from his face. This being the end of March, some quick nine-finger math suggested they might be having a blessed event in the Hooley household right around Christmastime. Now
there
was a gift that would keep on giving—and after the unfortunate incident with Annie Mae this week, it put him in a much happier frame of mind, too.

“Everything all right?” Matthias Wagler asked as Ben helped him and Adam scoot a long table into place.

“Never better,” Ben replied breezily. “Sometimes, just the look on a woman’s face can change
everything,
ain’t so?”

Annie Mae ate her cold sliced ham and salads even though she wasn’t hungry, for if she appeared upset, the women would only cluck over her more. While it was a blessing that everyone had expressed their regrets about what Dat had done, she’d
had
it with folks patting the back of her
kapp
where her bun used to be.

But that’s the worst of it
—
and the pity and the head-shakin’ are behind ya now.
It was such a lovely day, Annie Mae was ready to step outside with the kids while the other women cleared the tables and put away the leftover food—until a warm hand on her shoulder made her turn around.

“Adam! How are ya?” she asked. Even if his Sunday clothes needed pressing, his smile seemed especially . . . meaningful today. “
Denki
for lettin’ the boys sit with ya again this morning. The twins think they’re too big to be over on the girls’ side with Nellie and me now.”

“Happy to have them. While they’re perfectly quiet,” he said with a chuckle, “they wiggle around enough to keep me awake during the sermons. Not a bad thing, that.”

“If they get too antsy, be sure to tell me—”

“I’m not a bit concerned about that,” Adam said as he stepped closer. “What I
am
interested in is a walk on this fine spring day. Join me?”

Annie Mae sensed something was on Adam’s mind, but she didn’t want to anticipate too much. The pity party folks had thrown this morning had taken its toll and she was hoping to relax this afternoon. “I was thinkin’ to watch the kids—”

“Rhoda and Katie Zook are already out there,” he replied smoothly. “Shall we stroll?”

“You go along now, Annie Mae,” Miriam said with a flick of her dish towel. “All work and no play, well—it’s not a
gut
way to let our lives go by. The other young people are already out by the barn, settin’ up the volleyball net.”

Annie Mae blinked. She didn’t feel so much like “young people” now that she’d taken in her siblings—and at twenty-two, Adam was beyond joining their games, as well.

“Shall we head across the road, down the lane at the Lantz place?” Adam asked as they stepped outside. “What with the apple trees blooming, the orchard might be a pretty place for a stroll.”

“I suppose now that Rachel and her Micah live there, it’s really the Brenneman place,” Annie Mae remarked, “even if it goes past Ben Hooley’s smithy. Lots of changes in this town these past few months, if ya think about it.”

Yet when Adam wove his fingers between hers, Annie Mae wasn’t sure
what
to think. She was contented to look down the long rows of Rachel’s garden, where the peas, lettuce, radishes, and onions were off to a fine start. Bright red and yellow tulips swayed in the breeze on either side of the front steps, and the white porch swing moved as though an invisible someone might be sitting in it, enjoying this fine day.

“I’m thinking to make a few changes myself,” Adam said.

Annie Mae’s eyes widened. His tone seemed a bit mysterious, although he also sounded confident that whatever new path he was considering was the right one—and wasn’t
that
interesting? As they started across the orchard between the blooming apple trees, she decided to explore his statement a bit. “And what sort of changes are we talkin’ about? Are ya ready to sell your motorcycle? Or are ya—”

“Sold it Saturday,” Adam replied. “Officer McClatchey told a friend of his about it, and . . . and he didn’t bat an eye about payin’ the price I asked for.”

As she thought back to Rebecca’s research on what his cycle was worth, Annie Mae let out a low whistle. “Glad to hear that. But mostly I’m happy ya found a way to move forward, instead of clingin’ to those bad memories about your
mamm
’s wreck.”

“I’ve got
you
to thank for that, Annie Mae.” Adam’s pitch had risen a bit, as though he might be nervous. “The way you listened when I was talking about Mamm’s death helped a lot, come time to tell Preacher Ben and Bishop Tom about it. Both of them understood what I’d been going through at sixteen. Said the whole matter was behind me now, and that I’d made the only confession I needed to—especially since I was sellin’ the bike.”

“See?” she chirped. “Didn’t I tell ya it was mostly
fear
keepin’ ya from that little chat?”

They were passing across the back of Dan and Leah Kanagy’s property, where Leah’s stacked, white hives buzzed with her bees. Adam stopped just inside the windbreak of spruce trees that flanked the next road. When he turned to face her, Annie Mae sensed he had planned this route to give them some privacy. She—and a lot of other girls—had been known to linger behind these dense evergreens with a boy after Singings, before going home.

“I’m changing the way I think about my future,” Adam went on. He held her gaze as he grasped both of her hands. “And I was wondering—”

The loud rumble of a muffler drowned out his next words. Even though Annie Mae understood that Adam was preparing to say something very important, the commotion across the road had her looking over his shoulder instead of into his eyes.

Then Annie Mae frowned. “Now why’s that big truck pullin’ up into our lane?” she muttered. Still clasping one of Adam’s hands, she shifted so she could see between the tall evergreens. “And this bein’ Sunday, why would anybody . . . that’s a
ramp
the driver and another fella just lowered out of the back.”

Adam turned to gaze between the trees with her. Now that the truck’s engine was shut down, the clank and clatter of the metal ramp sent an ominous chill up her spine.

“Something tells me this is your
dat
’s doing,” he said in a low voice.

As they stepped between the trees for a better look, Annie Mae wished she hadn’t. “Is that big wooden sign at the road a—”

“
FOR SALE
sign,” Adam confirmed as he gripped her hand harder.

A little cry escaped her. “Why didn’t ya tell me about this before we walked—”

“I had no idea, honey-girl,” he rasped. “This must’ve happened while we were in church. The sign’s from that Hammond fellow’s real estate company.”

“So . . . so Dat’s sellin’ the home place.” Annie Mae struggled to draw a breath. “Emptyin’ out all the—”

She pivoted, unable to watch as the two men wheeled her
mamm
’s china hutch into the truck. Had they even taken out the dishes? Were they going to remove every piece of furniture she’d grown up with? A truck that size would hold a lot of—

Annie Mae heard a keening sound before she realized it was coming from her own throat. When Adam took her in his arms, she was too stunned—too numb—to protest. She curled herself around him so her head found his sturdy shoulder, unable to suppress the tears that now spotted his black vest. “I suppose it’s wrong to think any of Mamm’s pieces would’ve come to Nellie or me, after the way we walked out,” she whimpered. “After all, we’ve been livin’ without that furniture for months now, and—and it’s only
stuff
—”