do.â
âOh,â Eve said, âIâm not doing it for him. Iâm doing it for Abra. Sheââ
âShani.â Lila stood in the doorway of the kitchen, the empty box in her hands. âOh, sorry to interrupt.â
âNo problem,â Shani answered. âAre you done with the towels?â
Lila shook her head. âWe ran out of room in the cupboard.â
âStack them on the counter in the bathroom for now,â Shani said. Rose wiggled her way into the kitchen too. If she sent them to put the books on the shelves in the living room next, they might wake the baby. And she didnât want them in the way of the boys. âWhen youâre done you two can help unwrap the dishes,â she said. âThen weâll put them in the cupboard.â
Shani didnât want to ask any more questions about Abra when the girls would be right back. She opened the cupboard on the other side of the sink. âWow, someone put down new shelf paper.â When Eve blushed, Shani knew it had to have been her. âDid Dad ask you to clean up this place?â
Eve nodded.
âThank you.â She couldnât figure Eve out. She seemed so capable yet reserved. Humble but complex too. âYou must have seen the quilt in the downstairs bedroom, then.â
Eve nodded.
âI donât remember it from the last time I was here. Iâm guessing my grandmother must have bought it before she died. I canât imagine Grandpa buying it.â
Eve blushed.
âWhat?â Shani asked.
âIâll tell you about the quilt later,â Eve said, unwrapping another glass and placing it in the cupboard.
Shani raised her eyebrows but decided sheâd just have to wait until Eve was ready. Obviously the quilt had come from her.
âSo where are you and Joel from, originally?â Eve asked.
âI grew up near Seattle, and Joelâs from Wisconsin. We met my first year of college through a mutual friend. Joel was stationed at Fort Lewis.â Shani picked up several plates. âWe married when I was nineteen and he was twenty-two. My dad about blew a gasket.â She smiled at the memory as she put the plates in the cupboard.Joel had been so certain of his love for her from the beginning. Not in a scary sort of way, but in a steady, strong way.
âWhat did Joelâs parents think?â
âThey didnât come to the wedding. We donât see them much . . .â It was hard to explain. Joelâs little brother, Johnny, had died at the age of twelve, when Joel was seventeen. It seemed his parents blamed him. Heâd left home the next year, right after he graduated. Try as she might she couldnât get him to talk about it through the years. And now after he almost died in Iraq, it was the last thing sheâd bring up.
Eve stared at her. âAre you okay?â
âFine.â Shani picked up a stack of dessert plates.
âWell,â Eve said, âfamily relationships can be tricky.â She glanced toward Rose and Lila coming through the door and lowered her voice. âI think everyone has something difficult theyâre dealing with.â
 10Â
A fter a few terse directions from Tim, Charlie turned on the road to the lumberyard. He flipped the truck visor down against the early afternoon sun. Fields of silage gave way to a wooded area. Maple trees, their orange leaves fiery against the cloudless blue sky, stood interspersed with evergreens.
âTurn right,â Tim said.
Charlie pressed on both the clutch and the brake, downshifted, and swung the truck wide. He bounced down a driveway.
âWhat kind of horsepower does this have? Three hundred forty-five?â Tim held onto his hat.
âYeah, thatâs right,â Charlie answered.
âI usually only have one,â Tim said. âAlthough out in the field, I sometimes have six.â
It took Charlie a moment to realize the guy had cracked a
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins