Chapter Eleven

W ith the dawn casting a warm glow over the vast Texan landscape, the men mounted their horses and herded the cattle toward Fort Worth.

“All right, let’s get to work,” Faith said, rolling up the sleeves of her simple cotton dress. Her eyes sparkled with purpose as she glanced at the dollhouse that sat on the wooden kitchen table.

“Imagine the stories these little rooms could tell,” Erna mused, handing her twin an assortment of colorful fabric scraps.

“Every good story needs a cozy home,” replied Faith, her nimble fingers already at work, crafting tiny, precise stitches.

Erna watched for a moment, admiring Faith’s dedication to her craft. Then, with a smile tugging at her lips, she turned her attention to carving miniature wooden chairs small enough to fit within the palm of her hand.

“Looks good, Faith,” Erna said after a while, her voice light as she inspected a minuscule quilt adorned with delicate patterns.

“Thanks, Erna. Your chairs will make the parlor just perfect.” Faith held up the quilt against the dollhouse, imagining the warmth it would bring to the tiny space.

The sisters worked side by side, exchanging casual banter and laughter as they lost themselves in the tasks at hand. With each stitch and whittle, the little house came alive, its rooms slowly filling with the evidence of their shared labor and love.

“Erna, pass me that blue ribbon, will you?” Faith asked, reaching out without looking up from her sewing.

“Here you go,” Erna said, placing the silky strip beside her sister. “Blue curtains will look lovely in the bedroom.”

“Nothing but the best for our dollhouse family,” Faith declared, her hands deftly creating pleats in the fabric.

“Joel’s going to be surprised with how much we’ve gotten done,” Erna commented with a hint of pride.

“Let’s hope he approves of our interior decorating skills,” Faith teased, winking at her sister.

Erna reached up plucking a ripe apple from one of the apple trees behind the house. The orchard around them was alive with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze, the distant laughter of Ruby and Priscilla as they played among the trees. Amy had sent them over after school to play and help with the harvest.

“Got another one!” Faith called out from a few rows over, her voice tinged with triumph.

“Add it to the basket,” Erna replied, smiling. “We’ll have enough for a whole battalion of pies at this rate.”

They worked all afternoon, moving methodically through the rows of trees. Apples of all shades, from blushing reds to sunny yellows, filled their baskets and the air with the sweet scent of harvest.

Later, in the kitchen, the sisters peeled and cored the apples, the steady rhythm of their knives a comforting backdrop to their chatter. They prepared apple sauce, the mix simmering on the stove, and rolled out dough for the pie fillings.

“Remember how Mrs. Jackson used to make her crusts?” Faith mused, pressing the tines of a fork along the edge of the dough.

“Like it was yesterday,” Erna said, her eyes distant but gleaming. “She’d say, The secret’s in the butter.“

“More like the love,” Faith countered, and they both chuckled.

As night fell, the sisters found themselves sharing a bed, the coolness of the October evening creeping in through the window. They lay side by side, a quilt pulled up to their chins, talking about everything and nothing at all. Their voices were soft but filled with laughter, each story and memory weaving them closer together.

“Feels like we’ve been here forever,” Erna whispered.

“Only since June,” Faith reminded her softly. “But it does feel longer, doesn’t it?”

“Time’s funny like that.” Erna turned to face her sister in the dim light. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“Where else would I be?” Faith replied, her voice laced with affection.

As the morning sun painted the Texas sky with hues of pink and orange, Erna and Faith bustled about the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the scent of baked apples. Erna reached for the jar of cinnamon, while Faith meticulously arranged the tiny quilts she had crafted for the dollhouse.

“Jane’s surely having the time of her life,” Faith said with a playful smirk, her nimble fingers smoothing out the miniature bedding. “She’s got cowboys lined up like cattle at auction, each one hoping to be her chosen.”

Erna chuckled, adding a dash of cinnamon to the apple filling. “And here we thought moving to Texas would calm her wild spirit. Seems she’s more a prima donna than usual.”

“She is!” Faith agreed, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “Susan says that she’s enjoying the courting games, making each suitor prove his worth. She’s living quite the merry life with Susan and David Dailey.”

“Good for her,” Erna said, her voice laced with genuine happiness for their sister. “Love should be a choice, not a chore.”

The days passed in a comfortable routine until the sound of horses’ hooves signaled the return of the men. Faith glanced out the window, excitement lighting up her face. “They’re back!”

Erna wiped her hands on her apron and followed Faith outside. The dust settled around the weary travelers as they dismounted, their faces etched with the fatigue of the journey but brightened by success.

“Joel!” Erna called out, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him.

“Erna,” Joel greeted, his voice gravelly but warm. He took her hands in his, the roughness of his work-worn skin a stark contrast to her softness. “It was a good drive. We got a fair price for the herd.”

“Thank the Lord,” Erna breathed out, relief washing over her. “I knew you’d do well.”

“Couldn’t have done it without thinking of coming home to you,” Joel confessed, his sharp eyes softening with affection.

With a knowing smile, Faith slipped away, leaving the couple to their quiet reunion.

The aroma of stewed beef and fresh-baked cornbread filled the kitchen as Erna set the last steaming dish on the worn wooden table. Joel, freshly scrubbed from the trail dust, sat down with a contented sigh.

“Smells like heaven, Erna,” he said, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.

“Wait till you taste it,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. They joined hands, and Erna offered a brief prayer of thanks before they began to eat.

Between mouthfuls, Erna chattered about the past few days. “Faith and I finished the curtains for the dollhouse living room,” she explained, gesturing toward the miniature abode on the sideboard. “And she’s made the tiniest quilts you ever saw.”

Joel listened, nodding as he chewed. His gaze wandered over to the dollhouse, admiring the tiny stitches and vibrant fabric of the curtains adorning the little windows. The care and detail spoke of Faith’s talent and Erna’s guiding hand.

“Sounds like y’all had a fine time,” Joel said, scooping up another forkful of potatoes.

“We did,” Erna agreed, laughter bubbling up. “We even made enough apple pie filling to last us through winter!”

As supper wound down, Joel rose and ambled over to inspect the dollhouse more closely. He tilted his head, taking in the miniature world that his wife and sister-in-law had brought to life. “You’ve got a knack for making things beautiful, Erna,” he remarked with genuine admiration.

Erna blushed at the praise. “Thank you, Joel. It keeps my hands busy and my heart light.”

Silence fell comfortably between them, the kind only shared by two people who understood each other without words. The day’s fatigue began to pull at their limbs, and they decided to retire early.

In the privacy of their small bedroom, tender kisses and gentle caresses rekindled the warmth of their connection. As they moved together in the quiet rhythm of love, Erna felt the certainty of her place in the world.

Lying beside him in the afterglow, she whispered into the darkness, “I was meant to be yours, Joel.”

“And I yours, Erna,” Joel murmured back, pulling her close. In the sanctuary of their embrace, they drifted off to sleep under the vast Texas stars, secure in their love and the simple joys of their life together.