"Do not say that. I cannot believe what you have done already."

Levi shook his head. "You're half starving out here."

Rebecca took a step back and hardened her face against him. "I know I am full of faults, but I think I manage very well."

"Well? You're a miracle worker, Rebecca."

"Then why do you criticize?"

Levi hung his head. "I'm sorry if it sounds like I am finding fault with you. I would never, never do that."

"Jah, okay," Rebecca said. How could she think Levi was like Fater?

"I care about you. I hate that your life is so hard."

"Life is hard, no matter whose life you are living. But life is gute also. Life is work because work sustains life. And we have many reasons to be happy. Look at that barn. Freshly scrubbed and ready to be painted. What could be better than that?"

Levi handed Rebecca the empty glass. "Getting a glass of water and a smile from Rebecca Miller. That's the best thing to happen to me all day."

"Ach, you are a manure expert, Levi Cooper. You spread flattery like our bishop gives out handshakes."

He held out his hands in surrender. "How will I convince you that every word is true?"

"You won't."

"I guess I'll keep trying, kid."

"You are wasting your efforts, Bub."

"Bub. The fat guy who sits on the bench outside the drugstore and smokes three packs a day. I like it." He put an arm around her shoulder.

She pushed him away playfully.

Levi wiped his hands on his trousers. "Now that the wood's done, I'm hungry. How about Chinese tonight?"

"I've never had it."

"Oh, kid, you're in for a treat."

Chapter Eighteen.

Levi snatched his keys from the dresser and practically sprinted down the hallway.

Mom, in her scrubs, stood in the closet-sized kitchen looking into the fridge.

"See ya, Mom. I'm going to the bicycle shop."

"Wait, wait!" Mom practically yelled. "What time do you have to be there?"

"I can be there anytime I want. The sooner I get there, the more bikes I can fix."

"Have you eaten?"

Levi jangled his keys. "No, I'll grab a bite when I get home."

"Let me fix you something before you go."

"No, Mom. Really, I'm fine."

"Give me ten minutes. I'll make you a quesadilla."

"I'm okay."

"It won't hurt you to sit down and eat before you shrink to nothing and blow away."

Levi looked down at himself. "Do I look like I've lost weight?"

"No, but I'm not taking any chances. I haven't made you dinner for weeks."

"We had dinner together on Sunday."

Mom shook her head. "Not counting Sundays."

Levi looked at his phone. He could spare a few minutes for Mom. He pulled a stool from under the counter and sat in silent acquiescence.

Mom opened a cupboard and clattered a few pans around before finding the skillet she was looking for. She thumped it on top of the stove and went to the fridge for tortillas and cheese.

"Do you want help?"

"No, relax. I don't think you've sat for more than five minutes this week."

"Neither have you."

Mom glanced at Levi and shook her head. "I get enough leisure. You're like the Energizer Bunny."

Levi loved to watch his mom cook. She grated and chopped and sauteed as if second nature. Her movements were like a musician conducting an orchestra. Soon the smell of onions and peppers and fried ham permeated the small apartment. Levi breathed deeply and let his mouth water in anticipation.

"Do you want pepper jack?" Mom said.

"Yeah, that's great."

"Are you working late tonight?"

"Probably. Lots of broken bikes."

Mom turned the tortilla on the skillet and sprinkled white and orange cheese over it. "You work tomorrow?"

"I took the day off. I'm going to Wisconsin Dells with some friends."

"And that girl? Beth says you're dating someone."

Levi's "danger" alert perked up. "What did she tell you?"

Mom looked up from her culinary creation and smiled. "No need to panic. She said you broke up with Tara. Says it's a nice girl this time."

He breathed a little easier. "That Beth is such a blabbermouth."

"It's not like I wouldn't have figured it out on my own. You've got so much spring in your step, you could bounce to the moon and back."

Levi stifled a grin by wiping his hand across his mouth. "That's crazy talk, Mom."

"What's her name?"

"Rebecca."

"Where did you meet her?"

"She, uh, she came into the store."

Mom scraped the onions and peppers from the pan into the quesadilla and folded it in half. With one quick flick of her spatula, she slid the quesadilla onto a plate and plopped it in front of Levi.

"Thanks, Mom."

She handed him a fork and watched him eat. "And?"

"What?" he said, sticking the first bite into his mouth.

"And, what about the girl?"

"She's really nice and really pretty." Levi concentrated very hard on cutting his quesadilla. In dread, he knew these pitiful bits of information were not going to fly with Mom.

In a moment she seemed to lose her intensity. She sighed, found the dishrag, and wiped around the stove. "I've never seen so much hemming and hawing in my life," she said.

"There's not much to tell, Mom."

Mom picked up the skillet and used it as a pointer. "Oh, there is a book of details you're not sharing."

"More like a pamphlet."

"I doubt it."

He held up a piece of quesadilla. "This is really good."

"Will I get to meet her sometime?"

"Come on, Mom. I gotta go to work."

"Okay, okay. But don't think you'll be able to avoid the subject forever. I'm persistent. My mamma used to call me 'The Bull.'" A shadow fell across her face then disappeared.

"You miss her."

"Of course. But she writes, and Barbara writes."

"It's not the same," Levi said.

"No. Not the same."

Levi hesitated with the question on his lips he'd been wanting to ask. "Do you wish you could go back?"

The question took her by surprise. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you?"

Mom leaned her elbows on the counter and stared at him. "Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it does."

She sighed and surrendered to his probing. "I wish it every day. When your dat died, I was lonely. Brent was so good to me. I knew he would take care of you children. But I could never quite fit into his world. Remember when we moved to Chicago for, what was it, three months?"

Levi nodded.

"I had a major breakdown. I begged him to move us back."

"To be close to your family, even if they shunned you?"

"That and because I couldn't stand the big city. Too many people, too many buildings, no friends or neighbors. Everyone impersonal and indifferent. Brent was mad, but he moved us back." Mom poured Levi a glass of milk. "It's my fault he left."

"That's not true, Mom. He's a jerk, plain and simple."

"He got frustrated with me. I wallowed in self-pity, and it wore him down. He left because he couldn't live with me anymore."

"He gave up on us, Mom. It wasn't your fault."

She reached over and patted his arm. "No pancake is so thin that it doesn't have two sides, Levi."

"So would you go back to being Amish? If you could?"

"How could I do that to you and Beth? To ask you to live that life?"

"As I remember, it was a pretty good life," Levi said.