Hope in the Land by Olivia Newport

Author:Olivia Newport [Newport, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-63409-657-7
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2016-09-09T04:00:00+00:00

Yost grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table.

“If Thomas comes,” he said to Polly, “tell him I’ll be right back.”

“Thomas is coming?” The needle between Polly’s fingers stilled above the mending.

“We both promised our mothers fish, so we’d better go catch it.”

“What about the tomatoes?” It was the middle of the afternoon.

“Sylvia is back to full steam, and I’ve never seen a faster picker than Rose. We’ll be fine.”

Thomas and Yost would never catch enough fish in one afternoon to feed both their households. They’d been promising their mothers since they were little boys. Everyone knew the ruse. But Polly did not begrudge her brother a few hours away from the fields. He worked hard all day and was an attentive husband and father. The back door swung closed behind Yost.

The thought of Thomas’s impending arrival prodded Polly to select a different garment to mend—a man’s. She had mended enough of her father’s shirts that she was certain she could construct one. Thomas might like the reassurance.

Thomas knocked on the back doorframe a few minutes later.

Polly looked up from the white fabric spread across her lap. “Come in. Yost will be here in a minute.”

“I can wait out here,” Thomas said.

“Don’t be silly. I’m only mending.”

Thomas stepped into the kitchen. Would he have entered with more enthusiasm if it had been Lena sitting there sewing?

“I hope you catch a lot of fish,” she said.

“Our mothers might have to share one fish.” Thomas gave a crooked smile. “I’m not much better at fishing than I am at … other things.”

“You’re wonderful at everything you put your hand to,” Polly said.

“Not everything,” he muttered.

“Perhaps a cheese pie would help to stretch the one-fish meal. I’ll make one while you’re fishing.” Polly didn’t regret the sentiment, but the promise was ill-advised.

“I do like a good cheese pie.” Another crooked smile.

“Then you shall have one.” She met his smile with one of her own.

Yost stuck his head in the back door. “Come on. Let’s go before something else comes up.”

The two men bounded down the back steps like little boys escaping the reach of a mother’s voice. Her daed’s shirt would have to wait. Polly folded the fabric and fastened the mending basket closed before limping to the bins to scoop out flour, salt, and sugar. Cold butter was on a plate in the icebox. Before she mixed everything, she lit the oven.

Polly measured enough for two crusts and cut the butter into the dry ingredients with a fork the way her mother had shown her dozens of times. She tossed extra flour onto the counter, divided the dough, and attacked half with a rolling pin. Not too much pressure. She’d made that mistake too many times. She rolled evenly, first in one direction then another, looking for the perfect round to emerge from her movements.

Instead, dough stuck to the rolling pin. What stayed on the counter did not resemble the shape of a pie tin. Polly dragged a chair against the counter and rested one knee on it.

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