Epilogue
Thirteen years later
Erna’s eyes fluttered open. The quilt beneath her and Joel, hand-stitched with patterns of wildflowers and love knots, lay in a comfortable tangle around their waists.
“Morning,” Joel murmured, his eyes twinkling with the same mirth that had first drawn her to him at the dance all those years ago.
“Morning,” Erna replied, her heart swelling as the sound of laughter drifted in through the window—a symphony of joy played by their four children.
Outside, Judy and Rudy were embroiled in some pretend adventure, their voices pealing like church bells in the crisp air. Sally’s giggles punctuated the twins’ declarations while little Beatrice, now seven and braver with each passing day, tried to keep up with her older siblings.
“Sounds like they’re rounding up a storm,” Joel said.
“Or chasing dreams,” Erna added, smiling at the sight of their children immersed in play.
They rose from bed, their movements synchronized in the silent language of a shared life. The wooden floorboards were cool underfoot as they padded toward the kitchen, where the aroma of fresh bread and bacon beckoned.
“Look who’s here!” Judy exclaimed as her parents entered the room. The twelve-year-old’s eyes sparkled with the same light that Erna saw in Joel’s.
“Did you catch any bandits?” Joel asked, ruffling Rudy’s hair, which always seemed to stand on end like tumbleweeds.
“Only the fiercest,” Rudy boasted, puffing out his chest.
“Mama, I helped too!” Sally chimed in, her nine-year-old pride shining bright as the skillet on the stove.
“And I was the lookout!” Beatrice piped up, not to be left behind.
“Best lookout west of the Mississippi,” Erna confirmed, placing a kiss atop Beatrice’s head.
The table was soon laden with steaming plates, and they all gathered round, hands reaching, passing, and serving in a familiar dance. Stories of the previous day’s exploits tumbled out between mouthfuls.
“Remember when Rudy got stuck in the hayloft?” Judy teased, eliciting a blush from her twin.
“Hey, I was rescuing your doll,” Rudy defended, though his grin betrayed him.
“Only ‘cause you threw it up there!” Sally pointed out, and they all laughed, the sound filling the house.
“All right, all right,” Joel said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Let’s give Rudy a break. Today, he might just save us all from a real bandit.”
“Or a herd of wild coyotes,” Erna added, winking at her children who erupted into another round of laughter.
“Can we have pie for breakfast tomorrow if I catch one?” Beatrice asked, her big eyes hopeful.
“Tell you what,” Erna said, her heart warmed by the simple joys of their life together, “catch a coyote, and I’ll bake you two pies.”
“Deal!” Beatrice declared, and they shook on it, her tiny hand enveloped by Erna’s loving grasp.
THE TRINITY FAMILYfound a shaded spot beneath a sprawling oak tree. A quilt, hand-stitched by Erna with scraps from each of their lives, lay sprawled over the grass. Joel lifted the wicker basket and set it down with a care that spoke of years spent nurturing what mattered most to him.
“Look at this,” Erna said, her voice tinged with a softness reserved for moments like these. She leaned into Joel, shoulder to shoulder. “It’s like we’re living in one of those fairy tales I used to dream about as a girl.”
Joel grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon before settling back on her face. “Yeah, but every fairy tale has its dragons,” he replied, his voice carrying the rasp of dust and wind. “We’ve had our share to slay, haven’t we?”
“More than our share,” she agreed, watching as Judy and Rudy chased each other around a cluster of daisies, Sally close behind with Beatrice running after her, trying to keep up. The laughter of their children was sweeter to her ears than any melody.
“Remember when the well went dry?” Joel asked, pulling a loaf of bread from the basket and breaking it in half.
“Or the year the locusts took nearly every crop...” Erna added, accepting the piece of bread he offered.
