Susie felt squeezed into a corner. “Well, it’s just that I never realized Mamma kept that vest all these years—the one I wore the night Eli died on the road.” Her voice broke. “She never mentioned to me that she’d saved it.”

The teakettle began to whistle, a welcome distraction.

Britta and Ella Mae said nothing as Susie poured the boiling water into a white teapot, then placed three tea bags inside to steep. She took a container of raw honey over to the table and, not forgetting about Ella Mae’s sweet tooth, gathered up a selection of cookies from the wax papers still on the counter—cranberry crunchies, sand tarts, snowballs, and peanut blossoms—and arranged them on a plate for the table.

“Time for our tea party.” She carried the teapot over, complete with its quilted tea cozy. Then, sitting, she waited for Ella Mae to signal the beginning of the silent blessing, like she always did over tea.

The Wise Woman smiled sweetly at each of them before bowing her head.

Afterward, Susie poured the steeped peppermint tea into the three cups and passed the plate of cookies. She hoped to goodness the conversation would not return to the discovery of Eli’s safety vest.

Thankfully, Ella Mae brought up something completely different, about life being like a cornfield maze with twists and turns and sometimes roadblocks in the way. “Each of us bumps into piled-up hay bales now an’ then, so we hafta go back a different way, and then we find yet another barricade, and on an’ on.” She paused, her pale blue eyes ever so solemn. “But our heavenly Father looks on us with arms outstretched. He sees our struggles as we try ’n’ move through the seemingly endless web of stops and starts to the glorious end. From the beginning to the end, His view is clear. And from His high vantage point, He alone knows how to get through. But He’s also patient, so He waits for us to ask directions.”

Susie had never thought of life quite like this.

Ella Mae continued, her eyes searching Susie’s. “And, dearie, I hope ya know you’re not at fault for wearin’ your brother’s vest that evening.”

Blinking with surprise, Susie wondered how she could have known.

“Your Mamma worried you might blame yourself for Eli’s death,” Ella Mae said in the most tender tone.

“She did?” Susie murmured.

Nodding slowly, Ella Mae held her cup in her small, gnarled hand. “She realized that Eli must’ve wanted you to wear the only vest you children took along.”

Susie swallowed hard. “Jah. Mamma was right ’bout that. And all this time, I thought I was the only one alive who knew.” She had to stop and cough as emotion overtook her.