Free Catch Me When I Fall by Westerhof Patricia Page B

know” in a tone that dissuaded further inquiry. Yet Klaas found Ruthie on his mind often—in the early mornings as he sprayed down the milk house and during the long afternoon hours in the field. Probably the baby would be a girl—his family ran to daughters. Would the other granddaughters ever meet their cousin? Should they? Would the little girl be raised as a Christian? Was there a church anywhere that would allow her to be part of it? With parents like that? His own church wouldn’t. Reverend Dykstra had taken him aside one day in the parking lot after the morning service. “It’s a hard thing, Klaas, to do the right thing when our children stray. Sometimes we are called to practise tough love.” Klaas had nodded, though he found himself wondering what the minister—whose children were just two and four years old—knew about tough love.
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    The note arrived in mid-August, and they opened it together over their lunch of chicken sandwiches and coleslaw. Hi Mom and Dad. Just wanted to let you know that the baby arrived and we are all doing well. His name is Isaac Kemp-Dekker. You can visit if you want. There was an address in the University Heights area of Calgary, and she signed it, Ruthie.
    A boy. Klaas reread the message, doubting the words. Yes. A grandson. Isaac. He felt hot, then cold. Then hot again. Did Ruthie know what that name meant? Klaas did. God’s laughter . He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was Ruthie making some point? No, it wasn’t her way to be subtle or indirect. Maybe God was trying to tell him something? If so, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t condone this birth. Or feel good about this child. He said so to Alida.
    â€œYes,” she said. “I suppose you’re right.” She turned on the tap and let the water run for a long time, kettle in hand.
    â€œI think it’s hot, dear,” he said.
    She remained still. “Do you think they have enough money?”
    â€œI don’t know.” He fingered the note, ran his thumb over the word Isaac . “Maybe we could send a little.” He watched her profile as he spoke. “But with a note that we won’t be visiting.”
    â€œYes.” She turned and smiled with relief. “That’s fine.” She filled the kettle and turned off the water. “How much shall we send?”
    It was a tricky thing. He didn’t want to lose control of the situation. But a child cost a lot. And he wanted to be fair. He had paid for his other girls’ weddings. Given them some money when they’d bought their first houses. Slipped each of his sons-in-law a couple of hundred-dollar bills when there was a new baby in the family. Just to help.
    â€œHousing is expensive in Calgary,” he said. “Beth is still a student.”
    â€œRuthie probably gets some maternity benefits, and Beth mentioned a part-time job. In social work though.”
    â€œThe pay can’t be much.”
    Alida put the kettle on the stove and sat down across from him. “I wonder if they’ll get any hand-me-downs. The older girls got boxes of baby stuff from church friends. Ruthie might have to buy everything new.”
    They looked at each other. Alida tugged at her lip and Klaas stroked his sideburns. “Let’s think about it,” he said. “It’s not sitting easy with me.”
    â€œSusan DeBeer helped raise her daughter’s child.”
    â€œYes, but that was a different situation. A single girl who made a mistake. Let’s wait. Think on it.”
    â€œI’d like to help,” Alida said. She laid her hand over his. He stroked her fingers with his thumb and played absently with her wedding band while the clock ticked and the kettle sputtered.
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    Later, as he lathered his body in the shower, he wondered if they’d know how to take care of him. To look after a boy. Ruthie