She dried the last dish and turned her attention back to the dollhouse. With every placement of wood and every mental note for the decorations, her heart swelled. She could already see the lace curtains hanging from the tiny windows, and the delicate china dishes set upon the miniature dining table.
“Need any help there?” Joel called out, without looking up from his careful carving.
“I’ve got it, but thank you,” Erna answered, her voice laced with excitement. “This is going to be the prettiest house far and wide.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Joel replied, his focus unwavering as he began to shape the form of a dog. Prince lay on the floor in front of him, and he would occasionally look up to make sure he was getting the details right.
The evening passed, the only sounds being the occasional cluck from the hens settling outside and the soft scrape of Joel’s knife against wood. Erna hummed a tune under her breath, her fingers dancing along the dollhouse frame, each movement filled with purpose and joy. The idea of filling the dollhouse with life grew more thrilling with each passing moment, and she couldn’t wait to see it complete.
Erna glanced over her shoulder, catching the flicker of lamplight against Joel’s intent face. His hands, calloused from years of labor, worked a small piece of wood with careful precision. She wiped a stray curl from her forehead and moved closer, drawn by the emerging shape of a tiny dog.
“Look at that,” she breathed, leaning in to admire his handiwork. “You’ve got a real touch, Joel.”
He looked up, a hint of pride lighting his eyes. “Well, it ain’t much yet, but it’ll resemble a dog soon enough.” Holding out the partially whittled figure, he allowed her to take it from him for a closer inspection.
“More than that, it’s going to be perfect,” Erna said with certainty, tracing the lines that suggested the dog’s form. It was then that she took the knife from his grasp, a playful spark in her gaze. Without hesitation, she settled herself onto his lap, the warmth of his body a solid comfort against her.
“Thank you for this, Joel,” she murmured, tucking her head under his chin. “For helping bring my dream to life.”
“Anything for you, Erna,” he replied, his voice a low rumble as his arms encircled her waist. “Besides, I’m enjoying it too.”
They stayed like that for a moment longer, two souls entwined in the quiet of the evening, sharing in the simple joy of creation. As dusk deepened into night, they rose together, the unfinished dog set aside for tomorrow’s endeavors.
The bed was cool and inviting, made neatly made with quilts Erna had stitched herself as she daydreamed about the day she’d marry. They slipped beneath the covers, bodies drawing close in the familiar dance of shared warmth and whispered endearments.
“Goodnight, Joel,” Erna whispered, her words feather-light as sleep began to pull her under.
“Night, Erna,” he responded, his breath a steady rhythm against her neck.
In the sanctuary of dreams, Erna wandered through a sunlit room where laughter echoed off the walls. A little girl with bright eyes clapped her hands, her joy infectious as she beheld the completed dollhouse. It was a vision of happiness, a future promise woven from wood and hope, and Erna slept soundly, cradled in the arms of the man who made such dreams possible.
