Read The Keeper for Free Online

Unsolicited. Unwanted.
    Just moments ago, as Sadie and Julia hung wet laundry on the clothesline, Sadie asked, “If you had three wishes, Julia, what would you wish for?”
    Without thinking, Julia said at once, “I want Paul Fisher to marry me.”
    “If wishes were fishes,” Fern said as she walked up to them with another basket of wet laundry, “we’d all have a fry.”
    What really irked Julia was that Fern was right. She had hoped for so much and ended up with so little. It seemed to Julia as if her future had been floating above her like a brightly colored kite, waiting to lift her away . . . and Paul had just ripped the kite string from her hand. She could only watch helplessly as her hopes and dreams to be Paul’s wife slipped out of her hands, drifting up and out of sight as if carried off by the wind.
    Julia sat down on the picnic bench near the clothesline. As she buried her head in her hands, she felt despair grip her. Her chest felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant fist, but she wouldn’t let herself cry. If she did, she would never be able to stop.
    “Juuu-Leee-Aaaa!!!!”
    Julia swiveled around on the bench to see M.K. running toward her, her face in a panic.
    “Fern says she’s not making our dinner! She says she’s here to help Dad and we’re old enough to be on our own!” M.K. stopped as she reached Julia, planted her fists on her thin hips and stared at her, defying her to act. Sadie and Menno walked up to join them.
    M.K.’s timing was impeccable. Julia needed something to think about other than her own miserable love life. And Fern nettled her. It wasn’t unusual to have friends and relatives help out, even to move in, but no one knew Fern. And what was Uncle Hank getting at . . . that Fern was setting a trap for Amos? Was Fern after Julia’s father?
    Julia shook that thought off. Uncle Hank said all kinds of ridiculous things, all the time. More likely, he had misled Fern into what she was getting herself into. Well, Julia would clear things up. She hopped off the bench and headed to the kitchen to find Fern peeling potatoes at the sink. Sadie and M.K. trotted behind her. Menno sat down at the kitchen table, wide-eyed.
    “Fern,” Julia said in her most authoritative voice. “While our father is recovering from his heart trouble, the rest of us are working long hours to get the farm ready for planting and harvesting. I’m very grateful you offered to help us, but Uncle Hank led us to believe that you would be helping all of us—not just Amos.”
    Fern’s lips formed a thin, unhappy line, but she kept peeling potatoes. “I can’t cook for the entire tribe of you. There’s limits on what a person can do.” She turned her head and looked at Julia, a long look. “How much is one woman supposed to do?”
    Amen! Julia thought. Amen to that.
    “If you don’t want me to quit, you’ll have to take care of yourself,” Fern said.
    Quit? She might quit? Maybe this was the exit door they were looking for. Julia grabbed a dishcloth and rubbed a spot on the counter. “If you need to quit and return to your home, we certainly understand.” She turned to M.K. “Go get your piggy bank, M.K., and we’ll pay Fern her wages.”
    M.K. lifted her hands, palms to the sky. “Why is everybody always asking me for money?”
    “Because you’re the only who has any,” Menno whispered.
    Fern’s face flushed. Julia had called her bluff. Julia felt a tiny twinge of pity as she pulled six spoons, knives, and forks from the drawer. Just a twinge. “Of course, Sadie could always cook for the four of us while you tend to Dad. You don’t mind sharing the kitchen, do you?”
    Fern’s thin eyebrows rose in alarm.
    Julia gave the silverware to M.K. to set the table. “You have three choices, Fern. One . . . you certainly aren’t obligated to stay. Two . . . you can let Sadie back into the kitchen.” She took the napkins out of the drawer and started to fold them. “Or, three, cook for