Norman spoke. “Now, what was that.”

Leah raised eyes hooded down like a turtle. “Seems to me she has a point. Those things are cheap. Simple too. Something a man handy could take on I spect. Hot water takes forever. You’d be surprised the difference. That lye soap raises up a nice sud.”

“I recall bathing in hot water one or two times. You want something for the house then speak up. I’ll not deny you, it’s not too dear. But what has her to a boil?”

Leah ran her hand over the open page, her hand flat as if smoothing the thin paper. Then said, “You’re thick in the head, Norman. The woman wants to wash herself and dress up. Likely not for you or me, either.”

Norman was quiet a moment. Then said, “What’re you reading in?”

“Job.”

“Now that was a rare bugger.”

“Nothing more than the rest of us.”

“I can’t see that.”

“I always took it to be the point.”

“That right there is the definition of faith.”

She leveled her eyes now on him. “No. It’s not. I don’t know what is.”

“That’s fair. Tell you what. You find out, let me know.”

She looked long on him. Through the kitchen door they heard the splash of water and small sighs of pleasure. Even with the door closed they could smell the scent of soap and rosewater on the steam runneling through the house. Leah said, “I don’t spect it in this life anymore than you. You know that.”

Connie came into the room, her face flushed with scrubbing, dressed fine and already wrapped for the outside. “We’re going to skate on the river,” she said, “I just hope my christly ankles hold up. Skating, they always fall out on me. Always landing on my bum. It’s not the fall I mind, it’s the being helped up.”

It was the eldest Clifford boy came to claim her. Came in fast with a swept-back sleigh drawn by a fancy pair of black light trotting horses, each with a fine white blaze. Norman was amused and did his best to not be, feeling the smile tic the corners of his mouth. The boy—now young man—whose father owned the livery with teams and single horses to let, along with conveyances. Also a cartage business. The same boy then who five years before drove Norman’s mother and sister away from the farm. Now come calling. Or rather to take the girl skating. Norman wondering how many years his sister had fired in Glen’s mind. How many long Sundays over the fall and winter it had taken him to reach this point. Glen took his hand firm and called Norman sir which pleased him and then went on to lament his being too young to do his part with the late war which Norman was gracious enough to only nod away. Glen promising Connie home not too much after dark, adding the dangerous explanation of a bonfire. Snuggle up to it was what Norman was thinking but only said, “You watch out that team. There’s ice where the road’s packed.” And turned to grin at his sister, not caring if the boy saw this. And Connie then came forward and leaned up tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Glen taking his hand again and then nodding with a great and real gravity to Leah and speaking to her for the first time in taking leave. “Ma’am.” The word ripened like sun-gorged berries with respect.