It was an unbearably hot day when the Kesslers headed over to the Ronstadt household to help out with the daily chores. No one had any objections to helping the orphans out, especially given the rumors that were spreading about the Knobs. Annie had wanted to help out herself, but Mrs. Kessler insisted on her going to class that day rather than do housework. “You can help out once class is dismissed. We’ll probably be having dinner over there anyway,” Mrs. Kessler had stated before they dropped Annie off that morning. “Your papa or Connor one will be by to pick you and Jake and Michael up from school.” Annie hadn’t been too thrilled with her mother’s verdict, but went to class without any further complaint.

Whitney and Bethany were in the back of the buggy while Mr. and Mrs. Kessler were in the front, directing the horses away from the schoolhouse and toward the Ronstadt house. There was a relative silence in the buggy, only interrupted by the clip-clopping of the horses hooves and the intermittent, short conversation between the two up front. Bethany gazed outside to her right and Whitney was leaning her head back, trying to drive the fatigue from her body. Her field journal and notes were beside her, though she doubted she would find any time to get ethnographic work done.

Bethany looked over at her host sister. “Did you get much sleep last night?” she asked, only mildly interested in the answer to the question. It seemed like Whitney was getting worse and worse about getting adequate sleep and she wasn’t heeding the warnings from either Mrs. Kessler or herself.

Whitney was only mildly interested in the question as well. “I fell asleep early enough, but I had a hard time trying to stay asleep. I bet I woke up about five or six times before I finally rose and got dressed.”

“I thought you had gotten up rather early,” Bethany teased lightly. “I’m used to pulling you out of bed in order to get you downstairs in time for morning prayers.”

Whitney turned to eye her, though she had a playful smile dancing across her lips. “Very funny…” She couldn’t blame her for teasing, however. She had been rather hard to get up the past few days, more so than usual, mostly because she was having such a hard time staying asleep. She hadn’t said anything about her nighttime troubles, though. It would pass soon enough, she knew. Whitney shook herself slightly, trying to drive such thoughts from her mind.

“So,” Bethany tried to start the conversation up once more before the buggy fell into an uncomfortable silence again. She gestured toward Whitney’s notes, “How’s the paper coming along?”

Whitney seemed more than a little disappointed with the subject. “Not very well,” she admitted. “I know what I want to write about, but the research itself is hard going. I’ve never really done extended field work before, so I guess I didn’t realize how hard it would be to document facts without a tape recorder or computer. I thought it would be easy enough, but every time I sit down to work on my thesis, there are holes in my research and I have to go right back where I started and ask more questions…”

Bethany frowned. Naturally, she didn’t quite understand the full extent of her host sister’s plight, but what she explained did seem to be rather frustrating. “So, what you’re saying is you don’t have enough information yet? Haven’t you been asking questions left and right ever since you arrived?”

“I’ve been asking questions, yes,” Whitney answered, “but I haven’t conducted any formal interviews.”

“And formal interviews are…?”

“Sitting down one on one with an individual and asking several questions that are typically a bit deeper and more…” She struggled to try to find the right word without offending her host sister, “a little more controversial than the regular, general questions I ask. It’s also best to sit down with a recorder or something like that so I don’t miss out on any facts.” Whitney rolled her eyes at her own ignorance. “I should have known that it would be too hard to do ethnographic work from memory.” She groaned, thankful that Dr. Morrison wasn’t here to see her horrible field work practices. She wouldn’t be able to show her face in the anthropology department again if he was.

“Well, sit down with Mama and me within the next couple of days,” Bethany replied. She didn’t know why Whitney hadn’t asked either one of them before to engage in a “formal” interview.

Whitney tried to hide her small chuckle. “I appreciate the offer, Beth, but formal interviews can take hours to conduct. You, your mother, or I haven’t had the time to even sit down for more than half an hour – and during that time we’re typically eating. That, and if I did try to interview without the aid of a tape recorder, I’d have to write the conversation down verbatim on paper so I’d have them to refer back to later.”

“Well, split the interview up into portions,” Bethany replied. “Or, if it’s really important, maybe Mama or I can set chores aside for a day.”

Whitney smiled at the kind offer. She knew that chores were a daily necessity when one lives an Amish life. If they weren’t done, you often had to go without certain foods at mealtimes and it would throw the entire balance of the day off. In addition, the next day would be even more tedious since the neglected chores would need to be taken care of as well as the regular work for the day. “Perhaps,” Whitney relented. She hated to put such a strain on the Kessler family, but maybe just one day for interviews wouldn’t hurt too much. Either that or perhaps they could excuse her for the day while she went to interview someone else from the community. It probably would be a good idea to get someone else other than the Kesslers to question, too, Whitney thought, her eyes averted toward to countryside at her left.

It only took a little over five more minutes to arrive at the Ronstadt residence. The ruts in the dirt driveway were treacherous, as she recent rain had muddied it up and then it had dried in an awkward fashion. Both Whitney and Bethany had to hold on carefully to the back seat of the buggy in order not to fall directly out of their seats. Whitney’s field notes were scattered at the bottom of the buggy, which she promptly started to gather back up. Mrs. Kessler, up front, was trying not to get too sick from the entire buggy ride from the school house to the Ronstadt’s. She clutched the bottom of her stomach, where she was now clearly showing. Just recently she had to retreat back up to the attic to unearth her maternity clothes from the recesses of the trunks.

Whitney and Bethany had both accompanied her up to the attic a little over a week ago, telling her emphatically that she didn’t need to be up in the hot place while she was in such a delicate condition. Mrs. Kessler had waved away their concerns, telling them that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if the job was done quickly.

When at last the clothing was located, Mrs. Kessler shook her head. “It’s been forever since I’ve worn these,” she stated, not needing to divulge the rest of her painful thoughts. She gave a forced smile to the girls. “I just hope I can still fit into them,” she joked, trying to take the palpable tension from the air.

“When are you going to tell Annie?” Bethany had asked. “She’s going to start wondering why you’re getting bigger after a while.”

Mrs. Kessler had sighed, “I ‘spose I can’t keep it from her for very much longer.” She had wanted to wait to the very last minute to tell her youngest daughter, just in case something happened. She didn’t want to get the small girl’s hopes up, only to have them dashed if the baby didn’t make it.

Later that night, Annie was finally told the news that she would be getting a little brother or sister soon. To say that the little girl was ecstatic would have been quite the understatement. The next few days were full of questions for both Mr. and Mrs. Kessler. When will the baby be here? Where will it sleep? Where do babies come from? Her parents had tried their best to answer her innumerable questions, though Annie still wasn’t very satisfied with the answer she had received for the latter question.

“Nathan,” Mrs. Kessler finally said, her face looking unusually pale. “You’re going to have to be a little easier on the ruts.” She swallowed hard, trying her best to keep her breakfast down where it belonged. She had thought that her morning sickness days were over but that clearly wasn’t the case.

He gave her a swift, concerned glance. “I’m trying my hardest, Debbie. The road here is terrible.”

At last, they came to a stop right next to the house and Connor met them outside, ready to take the horses to the field where they could graze with the rest of the livestock. “Gut morning,” he greeted the family, cheery. It was clear that he was tired but for the sake of his guests he put a smile on.

Mrs. Kessler would have returned the greeting but all she could do give a nod of acknowledgement since she was still feeling a little sick. Connor’s smile faded some as he reached to help her out of the buggy, “Are you alright, Mrs. Kessler?” he asked. “You look ill…”

As usual, she waved away his concern and swallowed. “Just a little motion sickness is all,” she explained. “It’ll go away soon enough.”

At that moment, Rebecca came bounding out of the back door toward the guests, trilled to see them. “Mrs. Kesswer!” she greeted with her slight lisp. She still hadn’t quite gotten her L’s down straight and pronouncing the Kessler’s name was especially hard. She threw her arms around the older woman’s legs.

Connor shook his head, trying to hide his chuckle. “Becky, why don’t you let Mrs. Kessler get out of the buggy and inside,” he reprimanded slightly.

The three year old looked only somewhat apologetic. It was evident that her excitement to see her guests had overrun her better judgment. “Sorry,” she offered lamely.

Mrs. Kessler bent down and hugged the small girl, her disposition growing much brighter. It was as if Becky had made her completely forget about her stomach problems. “It’s quite alright, Connor. I haven’t had the chance to see Becky in quite a while, anyhow.”

While Mrs. Kessler entertained the younger girl, Connor turned and helped Bethany and Whitney out of the back of the buggy. Bethany thanked him and left rather quickly, as if she wanted to give him and Whitney time alone. Whitney noticed this but didn’t get time to comment on it before her host sister was out of earshot. By then, Connor had her hand and was helping her down. He spied the mass of notes in crook of her arm and laughed. “Plan on doing some work today?”

Whitney looked a little sheepish. “I figured I would bring them just in case. I’m sure I’ll be busy cleaning but you never really know when you might need a pen and paper in this line of work.” She put a small, teasing tone on the last part of the sentence.

Connor’s dimples became more prominent as he smiled and Whitney had to force herself to look away, toward the ground.

“Well, I do appreciate what you and the Kesslers are doing for me,” he replied. “I know it might make you’re job a little harder. Do you get much work done in the morning?”

Whitney shook her head vehemently. “No, not really. I’m usually doing the same thing over at the Kesslers. Besides, it’s my pleasure to help.”

Mr. Kessler, who had been within earshot of the conversation, came close to rolling his eyes skyward. Clearly, the conversation was almost painful for him to listen to. He had already detached the horses from the buggy before addressing Connor. “Do you want me to put the horses in the barn or the field?”

Connor turned his attention to the older man and quickly let the previous conversation drop, a little flustered. “Um, I’ll just put them in the field right now. We’ll probably be working in the barn some, anyway.” Whitney, too, was a little embarrassed to have had Mr. Kessler overhear their exchanges with one another.

In order to escape the patronizing gaze of her host father, Whitney turned on her heel and followed Mrs. Kessler, Bethany, and Rebecca into the house. It was the first time Whitney had been to the Ronstadt’s house and she was eager to see what the interior looked like. The majority of the homes she had visited before during the Sunday sermons varied in size, but, ultimately, were the same design. It came as no surprise then, when she found out that the inside of the home almost mirrored that of the Kessler’s place.

Mrs. Kessler sighed as she entered the home. It definitely needed a woman’s touch, that was for sure. Whitney wouldn’t have thought of the place as too messy, but since she had been living with the Kesslers, she had grown fond of the constant orderliness and cleanliness. Whitney turned to the others, “Well, I suppose we have our work cut out for us.”

Bethany fanned her face with her hand. “Gut Lord, it’s hot in here,” she commented. It simply confirmed just how hot it was outside - a record high for the state.

Mrs. Kessler was rolling up her sleeves, ready to start scrubbing the place from top to bottom. “Jah, it is rather warm. Bethany, why don’t you go put the windows up? It’ll get some circulation running through here.” Bethany nodded and went to do as she was told before Mrs. Kessler turned to her host daughter. “Whitney, why don’t you go find the mop and broom while I go get a bucket or water.”

“I wanna help!” Rebecca chimed in, looking up expectantly at her visitor.

Mrs. Kessler grinned, “Well, of course, dear. We wouldn’t be able to get anything done without you.” It was best to keep the child occupied while they worked rather than have her underneath their feet. She may not have taken care of a three year old in a considerable amount of years, but she remembered enough from her own daughters’ younger years to know that keeping Rebecca entertained was essential.

Rebecca beamed and went to the utility closet door, where the cleaning materials were held and pulled the water pail out. “I wanna get the water!”

Mrs. Kessler nodded. “Alright, then. Why don’t I help you some?”

The two headed out the back screen door, which they had left propped open to cool the home. Whitney took the broom from the closet, as well as a dish rag, which she threw at Bethany who had just finished opening all the windows on the bottom floor. “We best get started. I’ll sweep while you dust?” Whitney suggested.

Bethany nodded, sighing inwardly at the strenuous job ahead of them. “Jah, sounds like a plan.”

**************************

The grandfather clock stowed away in a remote corner of the living room had chimed noon by the time Whitney was ready to collapse from heat exhaustion. She exhaled deeply while she wiped her brow with a dry wrist. Her arms ached from the constant scrubbing and her knees were stiff from walking back and forth from the well will clean pails of water. It would have been either her or Mrs. Kessler, however, so she would have much rather it had been her than her host mother over-exerting herself on such a hot day.

“I can’t believe how filthy this place was,” Bethany commented as Whitney passed by to put the mop back into its respective place. It was only meant for Whitney to hear, but Mrs. Kessler, who was working on lunch, gave her daughter a pointed look.

“Now, now, that’s quite enough of that talk, Beth. Connor has been trying his best to get everything done and keep his siblings taken care of, too. You know that as well as I do.”

Bethany frowned slightly, and continued to put the washed pots away in the cupboard. Mrs. Kessler had a habit of washing dishes while she was cooking so she wouldn’t have quite as much to wash at the end of the meal and Bethany was taking over the chore while her mother finished up the lunch preparations. “I ‘spose so,” she admitted. “But still…”

Mrs. Kessler grinned as she turned back to face the girls, “Besides, men don’t quite have the eye for cleaning as we women do…”

Bethany nodded in agreement while Mrs. Kessler poured two glasses of lemonade. When the older woman had gotten the chance to make the beverage, the girls had no clue. “Here,” Mrs. Kessler handed the drinks to Whitney, “why don’t you go give these to the men outside? Lord knows they must the parched.”

Whitney was more than willing to oblige. A change to stretch her legs and get outside would help refresh her some. She made her way out of the house and, though the sun was beating down on her the moment she escaped the shade of the porch, at least there was a breeze. It wasn’t exactly a full-fledged breeze, but it was strong enough to gently blow the thin ribbons on her kapp over her shoulder. Her gaze fell across the fields and when she didn’t see the men there, she decided to check inside the barn. Just as she had anticipated, the men were gathered the in barn, surveying the roofing.

Mr. Kessler shook his head. “There’s just too much damage,” he stated. “When did it happen exactly? During the last big lightning storm?”

Connor, who was fanning his face with the brim of his hat, nodded. “Jah, back in late March. I’ve been trying to get the time to get up there and repair the roofing, but so far, I haven’t gotten the chance to.”

“What caused the damage? A tree?”

Connor nodded once more. “Jah, we had one growing pretty close to the barn. We’re lucky it was relatively lightweight or else we would have lost the entire barn.”

“We’re going to have to replace the whole barn. How old is it?”

“It’s been around since I was born.”

Mr. Kessler sighed, most likely induced from the heat. “I’m sure we can plan a barn-raising within the next few weeks. We haven’t had one in a while, anyway.”

Whitney interrupted when it seemed like the conversation had slowed some. “I brought you something to drink,” she stated.

“Ah,” Connor smiled and took the glass with a smile. “Denki.” Mr. Kessler took the glass but didn’t offer any thanks in response other than a slight nod. Whitney wasn’t expecting anything other than that from him, anyway.

“Lunch is almost ready if you want to head on inside and get washed up. I know you’ve got to be starving.”

“I’ll be inside, then.” Mr. Kessler was quick to leave the two, not wishing to see a repeat of the sweet talk between Connor and the Englisher.

The two left in the barn watched him leave in silence before Connor spoke, placing his hat back onto his head. “I need to bring in the horses before lunch. It’s going to get too hot for them otherwise.”

He handed his untouched lemonade back to Whitney and she couldn’t help but hesitate in the barn. “You won’t need help, will you?” she asked. She hoped not, as she had never been very close to a horse before, let alone handled one.

Connor chuckled as he opened the barn door leading to the fenced in field. “Thanks for the offer, Whitney, but you’ve been working inside all morning. You’ve got to be just as tired as I am, if not more. How is the inside of the house, by the way? I’m sure you had your work cut out for you…”

Whitney smiled and leaned against one of the vacant stall doors. “It wasn’t that bad,” she admitted. “If you want to see bad, you’ll need to see my apartment back at home. It could do with a good scrubbing, too. I am pleased to report that the bottom floor is virtually spotless, though.”

He couldn’t help but look a little sheepish at the mention of his dreadful housekeeping skills. He was quick to turn the conversation around, however. “I hope that Becky wasn’t too much trouble while you were working…”

“Oh, no. Of course not. She’s absolutely adorable and she actually helped Bethany and I quite a bit with the sweeping. She wore herself out after a few hours, though, so Mrs. Kessler put her down for a nap.”

“Gut,” Connor replied. “I love Becky to death, but she can be quite a handful when she wants to be, especially when she gets tired.”

Connor then clucked his tongue, signaling for his horses. They were obviously well trained, as they came running across the field the moment he called. Whitney backed away when she saw them cantering forward, getting nearer and nearer to the barn. “I think, I think it would be best if I head inside to help Mrs. Kessler.”

Connor gave her a cheeky smile as he glanced over his shoulder. “Are you scared of horses?” he asked.

Whitney folded her arms and looked thoroughly insulted. “I’m not afraid of them. I’m just not exactly comfortable around them,” she corrected. “I don’t see how anyone could be considering they’re at least ten times the size of any given person trying to ride them.”

Connor smiled as the first horse came to a halt on front of the barn entrance, obviously well rehearsed in being taken out from the field. He took hold of the halter and led the beast across the barn to its respective stall. Whitney took an unconscious step back while Connor came closer. Again, he couldn’t help but chuckle. As much as Whitney wanted to be miffed with his amusement at her expense, his smile was much too alluring and it drowned any trace of anger that remained in the pit of her stomach.

“Well, technically, they’re only about four or five times to the size of you in weight. They’re really quite gentle.” He turned to her; his smile diminished some but his delight with the situation was still evident. “Have you never ridden a horse? Or been around one before?” Whitney shook her head and Connor grinned once more. “I thought you said you grew up in Ohio? How can you come from Ohio and not have come in contact with horses before?”

Whitney relaxed her arms, taking on a less defensive posture. “I was born in Ohio, but I lived in the suburbs. I’ve seen them, but only at a distance, and that’s how I prefer it.”

Connor had dropped his smile now and looked more concerned than anything. “Why are you so afraid of them?”

Whitney figured it would be a waste of breath to try and tell him once more that she was merely uncomfortable around them. Instead, she replied, “I had a friend who took lessons at a stable and was thrown from one. She broke her wrist and chose not to ride again after the incident.”

Connor gave an understanding nod. “She must have done something to spook him. Either that or he wasn’t properly trained. It’s not in their nature to buck.”

Whitney didn’t seem convinced. “Either way she ended up with a broken wrist.”

While they had been talking, Connor had taken two other horses to their stalls and had just gotten hold of the last one, on older mare he had had as a child. He gestured her over. “Come here.”

Whitney blinked a couple times before shaking her head. “I – I don’t think so.” Connor chuckled once more before Whitney was inclined to question him. “And what’s so funny?” Her voice was defensive.

He stroked the mare’s nose while he answered, “It’s just that I’ve never seen you like this before. Typically you’re so school oriented and professional. You try to do everything correctly and if you can’t, you try to learn as quickly as possible. It’s just strange for you to be showing some sort of weakness, even if it’s just about horses.”

Once more Whitney’s arms were folded before her and her gaze fell to the dirt floor of the barn. “It’s best not to show weakness when at all possible, especially in a job like mine. I always have to prove myself to someone or another here, so I won’t be labeled “just another Englisher.” If that happens, then I won’t be able to get any sort of work done.”

A short silence filled the room before Connor interrupted it, “It’s not that bad to show weakness every now and then.” It had been a lesson he had just recently learned from Mrs. Kessler herself. He tried to turn the atmosphere a little lighter. “Work, work, work. Is that all you think about?”

“Typically,” Whitney replied without hesitation. Her education was something she took very seriously and it wasn’t the first time that she had been called high-strung.

Connor gestured her over once more. “Come on. Stella won’t kick or bite or anything, I promise. I was riding her before I was able to walk.”

Whitney still wasn’t sure and her feet remained rooted to the floor. “Connor, I really don’t think it’s a great idea.”

He held a hand out for her, “Come on, Whitney. Trust me.”

She frowned and looked at the beast and then to his open arm, unsure of weather to go to him or simply turn on her heel and head back inside before a catastrophe could ensue. At last, she relented and slowly approached the horse. Connor gently took her hand in his and guided her fingers across the horse’s shoulder, merely letting her get acquainted with the large animal. After a moment, he guided her hand towards the mane, then to the Stella’s neck. “See, she’s not so frightening, huh?”

Whitney was unable to speak. She was trembling only slightly, but not so much from the animal as it was just being so close to Connor. His arm was wrapped around her, since his hand was on her left and with his other hand, he held on tightly to Stella’s halter, so that she wouldn’t be able to move very much while she was near. She could feel him against her back and his head was so near to hers that the brim of his hat was touching the top of her kapp. Before she could say anything, Stella side-stepped slightly and Whitney instinctively tried to step back as well. Connor kept them both steady, however. “Easy, easy,” he told Stella before turning his attention back to the woman in his arms. “Try to relax. She can sense that you’re nervous.” He then chuckled slightly. “Gee, you can uproot from home and move to a place where you know of no one or their way of life, but you’re afraid of a horse.”

“I’m not afraid,” Whitney intoned when she was finally able to find her voice.

His hand guided her’s toward Stella’s deep brown eye before slowly letting her hand free. “Try petting her nose,” he suggested. “She loves that.”

Whitney nodded slightly before trying to move her hand in the direction of Stella’s nose. She wanted to make sure that the horse knew that she was moving before getting close to its mouth. “And she won’t bite?” Whitney didn’t even look over her shoulder toward Connor when she asked the question. She didn’t want to take her eyes of the beast.

“No,” he replied, trying to hide another chuckle.

Whitney believed him and slowly started to stroke Stella’s nose. After a few moments, when it became apparent that the horse was enjoying the attention, Whitney smiled.

Connor could sense her relaxing and smiled as well. “See? It’s not that bad.” He slowly stepped back, giving her more room but keeping a firm hold on the horse.

Whitney stroked the animal only a couple more times before swiftly stepping away. She had been out of her comfort zone enough for today… and in more ways than one.

It was then that Whitney heard a voice from behind her. “Mama wanted me to tell you two to come inside,” Bethany stated, interrupting the intimate atmosphere. “Lunch is on the table and we’re waiting to start prayers.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll be in just as soon as I put Stella up.”

Whitney turned quickly and headed out of the barn, trying to keep the flush from her cheeks, a flush she knew wasn’t induced from the heat. Bethany followed on her heels and gave her a curious look. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked.

Whitney nodded, almost quickly enough to look suspicious. “Just fine.” She was inwardly grateful that Bethany hadn’t witness what had happened in the barn. The issue would have never been left alone if she had.

Despite her discomfiture, however, Whitney felt a small smile creeping across her face. She had experienced many new things since she had been in Autumn Knobs but her introduction to horses had to be her favorite thus far… and not because she was fond of Stella but the person who had been holding on to her.