Page 3 of Hank and Elsie
Torin raised an eyebrow. “You mean a ladyaccompaniedby her family or chaperone?”
With a sheepish grin, Hank shrugged. “Living so isolated as we do, guess I’ve forgotten some of the niceties.”
Torin chuckled. “Best remember them if you’re going courting.” His expression sobered. “I’ll keep Jewel close to home on Sunday.”
“You must think I’m a fast worker.”
“Iknowyou’re a fast worker.” Torin kept his tone mild. “You set your mind on something and plow dead ahead. Stubborn that way.”
Hank chuckled. He sat for a moment, pondering Torin’s observations, and, somewhat to his chagrin, decided his neighbor was right. He’d always taken pride in singlehandedly achieving his goals.
Frowning, he realized Torin’s words made him sound too much like his grandfather for comfort. From what he remembered of his grandmother, who died of diphtheria when he was ten, she’d always seemed unhappy in her marriage.I will be a far better husband, he vowed to his future bride.
“Well…tomorrow is too early to go into town, so you two can frolic around the lake to your heart’s content.”
Torin let out one of his rare laughs, his blue eyes alight. “Frolic, eh?”
Hank couldn’t help but grin at his friends. “Yep.”
The bread jar empty, the swans lingered for a moment, and then drifted off the way they’d come.
Jewel waved and called out, “Ba-ba, before waddling back to Hank.
“All gone.” She handed him the jar. “Thann you.”
“Yep.” Hank ran the back of his index finger across her soft cheek.
“More?” she asked.
“Not for a while, hon.” His baking left much to be desired. The loaves turned out too heavy and sometimes scorched, which left plenty of scraps for the swans. But since he was heading to town, he would stop by the Muellers’ bakery for a couple of loaves and a dozen cookies. He’d eat almost every bite, leaving only a crust or two for the swans.
Jewel climbed onto her father’s lap.
With a grunt at his daughter’s weight, Torin wrapped his arms around her. “Soon she’ll be too big for my lap.”
Hank hid a stab of sadness with a smile. When Jewel was born, the doctors predicted a short life for the Mongoloid baby, lasting only a few years. Each birthday was a miracle. However heavy the child grew—God willing to adulthood—he knew without a doubt, Jewel’s father would let his daughter cuddle on his lap.
“Rock.” Jewel pointed.
Torin bent to see his daughter’s face. “You want to go climb your rocks?” he asked, referring to a cluster of low, round boulders near their house that Jewel had appropriated as her playground.
She put a forefinger to her lips and stared off. “Tea pa.”
“We can have a tea party.”
Hank hid a smile lest Jewel see and rope him into joining them.Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last.Wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for the child. But he had chores a-waitin’, a cabin to get spic and span, and a rocking chair to build, just in case, as his neighbor predicted, he’d soon have special visitors.
Torin kissed Jewel’s cheek and set her on her feet.
“Ba, Han.” She waved. “Tea pa.”
“Enjoy your tea party with your papa.” Hank blew her a good-bye kiss.
Rising, Torin took Jewel’s hand. He sent a smile Hank’s way and guided his daughter down the steps and in the direction of their home.
With a fond smile, Hank watched their retreating backs.I hope my future bride will like our neighbors.
Concern made the smile fall away from his face.How will a potential wife react to Jewel?
