Fern oohed and aahed over the hand-embroidered tablecloths and matching napkins, the quilt, the kitchen towels and potholders. Harry opened sets of coffee cups and a hand-painted teapot, feeling mildly uncomfortable. He should be providing all these things, not the neighbors. Then he opened his present from Fern, a brown-plaid wool shirt, heavy and sturdy and warm. Fern had made it at Addie’s. He hadn’t a present wrapped for her, but he took her hands in his, looked into her eyes, and promised a new room to be built onto the house in the spring. A room she could use for her sewing, or whatever, until it became a nursery. Fern wept a little, so Harry got up and put on the teapot. He didn’t like tears.

Now those hands that had fondled delicate lace only this morning were moving quickly over the small form on the sofa. Intense concentration deepened frown lines on her forehead. What was she feeling?

Tom and Mae Wilson had driven up shortly after noon, their little girl wrapped with blankets. Mae had been crying; her puffed face showed it. Tom’s face looked old and tight, as he carried their only child, born late in their lives, into the house.

With just a glance at them, Fern wordlessly swept the presents and wrappings onto the floor and helped Tom lay the girl on the sofa. She unwrapped the homespun blanket as Harry pulled up chairs for the parents to sit on, then poured them each a cup of tea, putting a little shot of brandy in Tom’s. Tom sipped, then winked at Harry with a weak but grateful smile.

Fern worked quickly and quietly as they watched. She looked older all of a sudden. These few months since Dave’s accident had put wisdom in Fern’s face. She’d gained a little weight, plumping up her breasts and thighs; she no longer looked like a skinny little kid—she looked like a young woman, blooming, with even a touch of rose in her cheeks. Harry thought she was gorgeous.

When Harry saw her working like this, he was proud. He felt like a rooster, wanting to strut in front of his friends and neighbors, the people who’d watched him as a child and put up with his boyhood pranks. Now he’d grown, and brought a healer home to Morgan, Illinois, and he wanted the whole community to respect them.