Of all the Sundays for Dat and Mamm to be gone all afternoon, she thought as she turned to look out the kitchen window. And knowing how long it could take her grandfather to complete his tasks at the Bontrager farm, she asked the Lord to help her do the right things for Sol.

She walked back into the spare room, glad to see he was still awake as she came around to the left side of the bed.

“Will ya stay with me now?” he asked, sounding distressed, so unlike him.

She nodded. “Are ya ready for me to test your hurt ear?”

“Jah.”

Looking down into his swollen face, Ellie felt both sadness and compassion. She leaned closer and whispered, “Dawdi says you’re gonna be just fine.” She suddenly felt shy, being so near to him.

“Only muted sounds.” His expression was glum. “Try again, a little louder this time.”

Bending over, she said this time in a normal voice, “I’m awful sorry you’re hurt.” She straightened up again.

“I could tell you were talkin’, but I couldn’t make out what you were sayin’.”

“Well, you must’ve heard something—which is gut. So you’re not completely deaf in that ear.” She sighed, so worried for him as she walked around the bed. She picked up the Bible, and to be sure he could hear her, she moved to the right side of the bed and sat in the chair. “Do ya have a favorite psalm?”

“The first one,” he said almost inaudibly. “I think of the tree in verse three as one from the orchard.”

Turning to Psalms, she read, “‘Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.’”

She paused to look at Sol, and his eyes were shut again. Glancing where his feet were beneath the covers, she wondered if she should poke one, like he’d said to. She was about to do it when Sol’s foot moved, so she assumed he was still awake.

Again, she began to read, a little louder than before. “‘And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.’” She stopped reading, because Sol’s breathing had slowed, his eyes were still closed, and both his feet were motionless.

“Sol?” she said. “Can ya hear me?”

His eyelids lifted to half-mast. “So tired.”

Don’t fall asleep. She closed the Bible and rose to stand. “You need to stay awake, remember?” she said, feeling like she was repeating herself. But what else could she do?