I thought it was time for this story to address Adam's absence, which I think must've caused some tension. And since Dorcas and Benjamin's chapter of the "Thaw" series ended on a sad note for them, I wanted to include a little show here that they've obviously made up. :) Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed – you make my day!
It felt to the girls like they had spent hundreds of evenings – instead of just one winter – in the parlor, sewing and listening in bored silence while Millie read aloud from Plutarch's Lives or The Bible. Now, whenever they had sewing to do, they still waited until the evening, but with the warmer weather and longer days, they brought their work out onto the front porch. They all loved sewing in the fresh air and spring breezes – and they also loved that as soon as they sat down, at least one of the brothers would cross the farm yard and hop up onto the porch to talk.
The six girls had been touched to realize that they hadn't just fallen in love with their sweethearts, but that they'd come to love the other brothers, too, in a different way. All twelve of them had become friends now, and if Frank saw Ruth or Alice sitting on the porch, he was just as willing to talk to her as he was to Sarah.
One evening, Dorcas, Martha, and Alice stepped out onto the front porch to sew, and sure enough, as soon as they sat down, they saw Benjamin, Daniel, Ephraim, and Gideon leave the barn and hurry over. The boys were excited to announce that they had just finished work on a new crib for Millie's baby.
"Just wait till you see it," Benjamin said proudly. "We put a base on it so it can rock back and forth, and we rubbed it with some crushed wildflowers so it'll smell real good."
"Yep, and we sanded every inch of it real smooth," Daniel went on. "Heck, we done everythin' short of put the baby in it ourselves."
"We just can't decide," Ephraim said, "whether we oughtta give it to Millie now, or wait till after the baby's born and surprise her then. What do you ladies think? Say, you all got any idea when the baby'll be here?"
"Well, ya ever can be quite sure with babies," Alice said, turning over the apron she was sewing to make sure the hem was straight, "but Millie's so big now, I think she'll be here before May's over."
"He'll be here, you mean," Daniel corrected, smiling. For ever since Millie announced that she was expecting, there had been countless arguments over whether it would be a boy or a girl.
"Oh, it's gonna be a girl for sure," Dorcas argued, chuckling and wagging one finger at Daniel. "You boys just wait and see. Millie's carryin' high, and carryin' high always means a girl – just like my ma before she had Jenny."
This made the men look around at each other, puzzled. Carrying high – what did that mean? But then they remembered the conversation between Frank and Sarah about how babies were fed, and they decided not to ask.
Martha glanced back over her shoulder at the parlor window, then asked, "Say... you all got any idea when your eldest brother will be back from wherever he went?"
The lighthearted mood on the porch suddenly grew solemn at this question. The six brothers knew that the girls were still a bit angry at Adam, and they couldn't blame them for it. The kidnapping had been all Adam's idea in the first place, and unlike them, he had never apologized to the girls, never tried to show them how sorry he was for it. He had just ridden off, and nobody had seen hide or hair of him since that November day.
Gideon swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat. "Well, Adam only went up to trappin' cabin," he answered slowly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. "That ain't so far. Said he'd be back after the spring thaw came."
"We was just..." Dorcas began, but then she stopped and lowered her voice. "We was just kinda nervous 'bout what might happen 'tween him and Millie when he comes back – if he ever does." Dorcas said these last words casually, as if it made no difference to her whether Adam ever returned to his family homestead, and the boys couldn't help looking shocked. Gideon's jaw dropped, and Benjamin's eyes bulged wide. But Dorcas just continued on, "Millie would never say so, 'cause she's the last one to complain, but I think he's made it real hard on her, leavin' her alone in her condition."
"She ain't alone!" Daniel jumped in immediately. "She's got all of us, ain't she?"
"'Course she does," Alice said patiently, "but it just ain't the same for a woman as havin' your baby's pa around when you're expectin'."
"Well... Adam didn't know she was expectin'," Gideon reminded them. "If he'd known that, he would of never left." But as soon as he spoke the words, he realized that a year ago, he would never have believed that Adam would leave his brothers alone on the farm for an entire winter. And yet, that was exactly what Adam had done. He thought back to Dorcas's words – "when he comes back... if he ever does." Perhaps the girls had no faith at all in Adam ever returning. He noticed that none of the girls had referred to Adam by his name.
Leaning against the porch railing beside him, Ephraim took a deep breath. "Look, we all know Adam acted real fool-headed," he said carefully. "Nobody's sayin' he didn't, but... well, I just know he'll come back soon enough, and I'm sure he'll make it up to Millie when he does."
The girls didn't say anything to this, but the boys saw the skeptical glance that passed between Martha and Dorcas. Alice just looked down at her sewing, avoiding their eyes.
Gideon searched for something to say, something that would make Adam look better in the girls' eyes... but no words came to mind. Adam's behavior was just too hard to defend. Then, suddenly, he remembered. How could he have forgotten? The bundle of sticks!
"Adam'll be back," Gideon said, his voice bright and confident now. "Know how I know? Come on inside, and I'll show ya."
The three girls looked doubtful, but they gathered up their sewing, and they, Benjamin, Daniel, and Ephraim followed Gideon into the house. Aside from Christmas, the boys had been inside the house only a few times since the night of the kidnapping. As soon as Gideon crossed the front door into the parlor, he turned around, grinning, and pointed to the wallspace over the door.
"See th–" he began, but then he stopped. The space above the door was empty. His jaw dropped again, and he heard Ephraim gasp. "Say, what happened to our bundle of sticks?" he asked loudly.
Liza and Millie were already in the parlor – Millie was sitting on the sofa, resting, while Liza read aloud to her – and Sarah and Ruth had come in from the kitchen when they heard the others enter. At Gideon's question, Ruth shrugged and said lightly, "Oh, yeah, that old thing. We all wondered why there was a bundle of sticks hangin' over the door. We used it for kindlin' months ago."
Benjamin and Daniel both looked annoyed at this, but then Daniel said in a calm voice, "Well, that's all right, we can always make another bundle. It weren't kindlin' wood, ya see."
The women all looked bewildered. "Well, what on earth was it for?" Sarah asked, putting her hands on her hips.
The story came out of them slowly, moving from one brother to another as they told it. One day years ago, when they were still just boys, Benjamin, Caleb, and Daniel had gotten into a terrible fight. Of course, a family of seven brothers had always had their share of dust-ups, but this one was more serious. Daniel's arm had nearly been broken. "And it was over somethin' so stupid that we can't even remember now what it was," Benjamin said, looking a little sheepish.
Adam usually whipped his brothers for fighting, but he didn't whip anybody this time. Instead, he had gathered all six of his brothers together, handed them each a stick, and told them to break it. And all six of them broke their sticks in two easily. Then, he'd taken seven more sticks, tied them into a tight bundle with some twine, and told his brothers to break that. They tried their best, passing it back and forth between them, but none of them could break the bundle of seven sticks.
His brothers never forgot what Adam said to them that day. They could still remember his exact words. "See, if we all act fools and fight with each other, then anyone can come along and break us in two just like these here twigs. The only way we stand a chance in this world is if all seven of us stick together and stand up for each other. We can't do that if we're fightin' over every little thing, can we?"
And then, Adam had hung the bundle of sticks up over the front door of the house, where he and his brothers could see it every day and remember every day that seven men together were stronger than just one. Together, they were unbreakable.
The women were all quiet for a moment when the men reached the end of their story. Ruth and Liza both looked contemplatively at the empty space above the door where the bundle of sticks had hung for so long. Gideon liked to think that in the silence, he could hear their opinion of Adam changing. Of course, they wouldn't immediately start liking him after just one story, but perhaps they would dislike him a little less, and understand him a little more.
"What we oughtta do," Benjamin said, turning to his brothers, "is tie up a new bundle of sticks an' hang it up in the hayloft. Reckon that makes more sense, since we're stayin' there now." Benjamin had been trying to take on the role of leader and eldest brother since Adam had left them.
Ephraim and Gideon nodded at this, and Daniel said, "Right good idea, Ben."
"An' speakin' of the hayloft," Millie said, "gettin' late, ain't it? 'Bout time for you boys to be headed back there." She adjusted herself on the sofa, trying and failing to find a more comfortable position, one hand holding her enormous belly – and then she wiped her face with her handkerchief, exhausted just from this small effort.
But even now, huge with her pregnancy, Millie still made the rules in this house. The brothers said goodnight and turned to leave, but on his way out the door, Benjamin teased, "Babies cry a lot, if I remember right, so probably best for us to be sleepin' in the barn. Once that baby gets here, he might keep you ladies up all night with his cryin'."
Dorcas grinned at him, her dark eyes shining mischievously. "Gee, I guess she might," she responded, touching one finger to her chin in coy consideration. "Maybe I'll come out and sleep with you in the barn some nights."
"Dorcas Gailen!" Millie scolded, and the other women gasped with shock or shrieked with laughter or did a little of both, and the men chuckled to themselves as they slipped outside into the night.