The More the Merrier by Linda Byler

Author:Linda Byler
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781680994711
Publisher: Good Books
Published: 2019-09-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

AS SPRING TURNED INTO SUMMER, ANNIE’S workload doubled, at least. The sun’s rays increased, drawing the many seeds into sprouts, the sprouts into beanstalks, potato plants, pea vines, and more. She stood to survey the sheer size of her garden.

It was a dewy morning, after a few days of intermittent rain and drizzle, so the weeds had gathered in force, taking over the well-tilled and hoed soil until it looked like a sea of green. And it was wet. So wet. How would they ever restore the garden to its original manicured state? She would be ashamed to have the neighbors see this. But then she smiled to herself, remembering that everyone’s garden had been rained on, not just hers.

And it was a lovely morning. The dew was like jewels scattered across the yard, the lush green plants beaded with them, dripping off the perfect green leaves. The sun was a fiery ball of orange, already pulsating with the heat that left men leaning against a fence post, their hats tilted back as they swiped at rivulets of perspiration.

This was the time of homemade root beer, mint tea, and ginger water taken to the hayfields where the men forked loads of loose hay onto a wooden wagon drawn by faithful mules or Belgians. This was when every single vegetable from the garden was eaten or canned to put down cellar for the coming winter. For the hundredth time, Annie was grateful to have a kind and gentle husband, and the anxiety of providing for her family alone taken from her shoulders. She loved his strength, his way with the children, his patience and gentleness. How could it be that God had blessed her when she most certainly did not deserve all this?

She turned and went back into the house, only to find Joel and John, five and four, who were Dan’s youngest children, in a heated argument with five-year-old Lydia, who was her own.

Oh, she hated that she still thought of them as her children and his children, but how else was she to make sense of the constant bickering and rivalry? These children had gone through so much, losing their mother and father, struggling with grief and childish sorrow, before being thrown together to live in one house. Remembering this gave her the compassion she needed to deal with the daily struggle of peacekeeping and discipline.

Joel was nearly six now, dark haired and dark eyed, with a brilliant mind and the vocal cords of a little preacher. He ruled John, who was a gentle, passive child, happy to go along with whatever his older brother wanted. Five-year-old Lydia, on the other hand, had inherited all the spit and vigor of Annie’s own mother, including the loud voice and quick temper.

Joel and Lydia had both woken up in a foul mood, the heat upstairs causing them to sleep fitfully. Thirsty, unable to find their mother, they sat on the old davenport like uncomfortable little birds, eyeing each other, with sweet-natured John between them.

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