Fields of Grace Read Free Page A

the table, he leaned toward Jakob. “Jakob, could you help me tomorrow?”
    Jakob paused with his spoon in his fist. “Help you?”
    Eli’s cheeks twitched with the desire to smile at Jakob’s exuberance, but he forced himself to retain a stoic expression. “ Jo . I have a very important job. Are you big enough, do you think?”
    Jakob sat up straight, throwing his skinny shoulders back and lifting his chin. “I am big enough!”
    Swallowing a chuckle, Eli nodded. “ Goot . I was hoping you would be. You come to my house tomorrow morning. You will help me choose the very best wheat kernels to take to America.”
    The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Choose wheat kernels? That is not important.”
    Eli raised his eyebrows and stared at Jakob. “Not important? Why, it is the most important job there is! Our good, strong wheat kernels that grow even under the snow and hard ground of Russia have never seen American soil. We want America to know what good wheat we grow—the best wheat! So we must take the very, very best kernels to plant in the new land. Only those kernels that are bright red and hard as little stones will be strong enough to make the journey.”
    While Eli spoke, Jakob’s blue eyes grew wider and wider.
    Eli waved his hand. “But if you do not think you can choose good kernels, then—”
    “I can do it!” The child bounced in his seat. “I can do it, Onkel Eli. I can!”
    Eli exchanged a quick smile with Reinhardt. “I knew I could depend on you, Jakob. Just wait until America sees what fine wheat we bring. The country will be glad we came.”
    “And now”—Reinhardt placed his hand on Jakob’s shoulder— “go wash your face and climb into your bed. If you are going to do such important work, you need your rest.”
    Jakob hopped down from his chair and raced to the enclosed stairway at the corner of the dining room. His pounding footsteps shook the rafters.
    Eli released a laugh. “That one will never let grass grow beneath his feet.”
    Reinhardt shook his head. “You will have your hands full tomorrow with him. But thank you for keeping him busy. Lillian will be able to accomplish much work tomorrow without him putting his nose in the way.”
    “He will be a big help to me,” Eli insisted. “I trust him to select the plumpest seed kernels for transport.”
    Reinhardt snorted but didn’t argue. “Are there restrictions on what we can take with us on the ship? I know Lillian would like to bring our goosedown mattress and her mother’s china dishes, but that will require a second large trunk.”
    Eli glanced at the handcrafted hutch holding the white dishes scattered with roses. There would be no pretty dishes in his trunk, and for a moment he experienced a twinge of remorse at what his life lacked. He had no need for fancy dishes, but what must it be like to have a wife who valued such things?
    “Each traveler is allowed one trunk.” Eli traced four tally marks on the table with his finger and then crossed through the row. “So your family will be able to take five. Will that be sufficient?”
    “It will have to be.”
    The front door opened and Lillian entered, bringing in the scents of evening. Her cheeks were flushed, and Eli wondered briefly if she were upset or if the night air had produced the high color. She crossed directly to the table and scooped up the dishes and spoons. Reinhardt barely glanced at her as she bustled to the large bricked Spoaheat in the corner of the kitchen and dipped water from the reservoir into a wash basin.
    Eli’s ears tuned to the creaky footsteps of the boys in the loft overhead, to the gentle splash of water accompanied by the clink of dishes in the basin, to Lillian’s soft hum as she saw to her evening chore. So different it all was from the silence of his little house at the edge of the village. A spiral of longing wove through him. These sounds meant family—something he hadn’t truly known since he was a small child. He was thirty-eight