Free When Hope Blossoms by Kim Vogel Sawyer

another promise. That you’ll never, never go farther from your house than your mom’s voice can carry. If you stay within what we call around here ‘shouting distance,’ you’ll be safe. Okay?”
    For long seconds Parker stared into Tim’s face, his dark eyes unblinking. Then his head bobbed in another slow-motion nod. “Okay.”
    “Good.” He looked at Mrs. Knackstedt. Gratitude shone in her blue eyes. He turned quickly away. “I’ve got chores waiting—” He intended to say he needed to get back to his house. But other words tumbled from his lips. “But let me drive you to your place. Looks like you’re just about worn out from traipsing around out here in the sun.”
    She pursed her lips, and for a moment, Tim thought she would refuse. He held his breath, his emotions seesawing back and forth on whether he wanted her to accept his help or not. At last she offered a weary smile. “Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr. Roper. I believe we would appreciate a ride.”
    The two of them followed Tim to his truck and climbed in, Parker in the middle straddling the gear shift. They didn’t speak on the short ride, which suited Tim fine. He couldn’t figure out why he’d offered the ride in the first place. The sooner he could let them out and get back to his own business the better. He pulled up close to the house and put the truck in park. “There you go.”
    Without warning, Parker threw his arms around Tim’s neck in a stranglehold of a hug. “Thank you for talking to me, Mr. Roper. You’re a nice man. I like you.”
    Tim’s heart thumpity-thumped in his chest. He sucked air, not because Parker’s arms were so tight, but because the boy’s spontaneous action was so much like Charlie’s. Tim wanted to grab the boy and hold on forever just to relive the feel of his precious son in his arms. But it wasn’t fair to use Parker that way.
    Very gently, Tim disengaged Parker’s gangly arms. “You’re welcome. I like you, too.” His dry throat made his words come out growly. “You . . . you listen to your mom, now, okay? Keep yourself safe.” Real regret filled his chest as he gave Parker the directive. If the boy stayed safe on his own land, Tim wouldn’t see much of him.
    “Thank you again, Mr. Roper.” Mrs. Knackstedt leaned past Parker, her hand on her son’s knee. “Parker has made you some promises, and I intend to see he keeps them. We’ll do our best not to bother you anymore.” She popped open the door and slid out. Parker clambered after her. She pushed the door closed, then slung her arm around Parker’s shoulders and guided him toward the house.
    Tim backed out of the driveway at a snail’s crawl. He blinked several times, trying to erase the image of Mrs. Knackstedt walking with her arm tucked protectively around her son’s shoulders. But it remained imbedded in his mind’s eye, and it brought a wave of memories of his own boyhood, his mother, her unconditional love. So different from Dad’s, which demanded immediate, unquestioning obedience. For the first time in more years than he could recall, Tim experienced a longing to see his own mother. But seeing her would mean seeing Dad. And the day he’d packed his bag, Dad had growled, “If you walk down that road, remember it doesn’t go both ways. You won’t be welcome here ever again.”
    No, no matter how much he might like to see Mom, Tim couldn’t go home again. He had a new kind of home—his trees, his apples, his business that filled his every waking hour. As long as the Mennonite woman honored her promise and kept her distance, he’d be safe from the memories that swelled at each encounter with her or her son.

    Bekah held the chair steady while Mom stood on the vinyl-covered seat and clipped the final curtain rod into place. The rod secure, Mom gave the snowy white curtains a few deft flicks with her fingertips to even out the gathers, then stepped off the chair. Her gaze whisked around the room, a smile