Susie looked away, the lump in her throat growing. “Well, to tell ya the truth . . . that vest is part of the reason . . . Eli died,” she said, faltering.

“I . . . I don’t understand.” Britta’s voice was soft.

Breathing deeply, Susie began to relay what had happened that terrible evening. “I’d forgotten to bring my vest along for our walk home from Aendi’s, so Eli insisted that I wear his.” She choked down her tears. “If Eli had worn it, instead of me . . . he might still be alive today.”

Britta looked horrified. “Ach, you can’t know that, sister!”

“Don’t ya understand? The driver—Kathleen—could’ve only seen me, because of the safety vest I had on. Not Eli.” The lump in her throat returned. “He was walkin’ closer to the road, and I’d lagged behind, stopping to pick up a bird feather. There was only one vest between us.”

Britta fell silent, like she was trying to picture this. She sighed, staring at Susie. At last she said, “Eli was only lookin’ out for you, like a gut Bruder.” She reached for Susie’s hand. “He surely wouldn’t want ya thinkin’ this way, Susie. Not all these years later.”

It felt peculiar, the way their roles reversed in that moment.

“Maybe runnin’ from the truth—workin’ yourself to the bone like ya do—makes it impossible to stop long enough to face what really happened,” Britta said now.

“What truth?”

“That you didn’t cause Eli’s death.”

Susie fought to accept Britta’s words, but they could not erase the guilt she’d long felt.

Britta’s eyes watered as she reached to hug Susie, holding her tight.

A few moments later, several loud knocks came from upstairs, and a woman’s voice called to them from the back door. Quickly, Susie and Britta lifted their apron hems to wipe their eyes.

———

Susie hurried up the basement steps and through the kitchen and utility room. She opened the back door and found Mattie Beiler standing there with her mother, Ella Mae, beside her. Mattie was holding a prettily wrapped fruit basket. Despite the difference in height, the women looked identical in their black coats and black bandannas, except that Ella Mae’s neck scarf was bright red. Susie couldn’t help recalling how Ella Mae liked to inch past the boundaries at times. Though in the most gentle way.

“Willkumm.” Susie stepped back from the door to let them in, hoping her eyes weren’t puffy.

“We came to spread some Christmas cheer.” Mattie moved inside. “I can’t stay, but Mamma can, if that’s all right.”

“Of course,” Susie replied promptly.

Ella Mae smiled. “Yous are mighty special to us,” she said, and with how rarely Ella Mae left the house anymore, especially in this coldest season, Susie knew they were special indeed.