After George finished speaking, the main room fell silent once again.
The fire had burned much lower than before.
A few red logs lay half-buried beneath the ashes, giving off the occasional soft crackle.
The oil lamp on the table had dimmed as well, casting a weak amber glow over the people gathered around the long wooden table and throwing their shadows against the rough stone walls.
Elena felt Martha’s hand move slightly around hers.
The hope that had been sinking little by little throughout the evening seemed to rise again.
Martha’s fingers tightened almost unconsciously, as though she had finally caught hold of the last thing she could still cling to.
Elena knew exactly what her mother was hoping for.
Uncle Edmund had never outright refused to help, but after everything he had said, he still had not agreed to take responsibility for Thomas’s future medical expenses.
Uncle Harold had been far more direct.
As far as he was concerned, if Thomas’s legs were unlikely to recover, then the family should not spend what little savings they had left chasing an uncertain outcome.
He had even said that he wanted to leave Miller Farm with his wife and children and establish a completely independent household, so that his own earnings and expenses would no longer be tied to the family’s shared farm income.
And now George had deliberately brought up something that had happened many years ago.
When Victor was a child, he had fallen through the ice into the river.
Thomas had been the one who risked his own life to pull him out.
A debt like that was not something a person should easily forget, no matter how many years had passed.
It was only natural for Martha to think that the man whose life Thomas had once saved might stand beside him now.
Even if Victor could not offer much money, simply hearing him say clearly that Thomas should continue receiving treatment would mean something to her.
Elena remained silent and followed everyone else’s gaze toward the other end of the table.
Victor had hardly drawn any attention to himself since entering the room that evening.
The old cushion Agnes had thrown earlier had split along one seam, scattering goose feathers and bits of dried stuffing across the floor.
Several feathers had stuck to Victor’s coat, and he was looking down, picking them off one at a time and dropping them beside his boots.
When his father suddenly called his name, his hand stopped.
After a moment, he looked up and managed a strained smile.
It was only then that Elena took a proper look at her fourth uncle.
Most of the grown men in the Miller family were broad and sturdy, their skin darkened and roughened by years of working in fields and around livestock.
Their palms were thick with calluses, and so were their knuckles.
Victor looked a little different from his brothers.
His complexion was fairer, and his features were well formed, with traces of the easy good looks he must have had when he was younger.
If not for the faded wool coat he wore, patched at the shoulders and cuffs, his face alone hardly made him look like a farmer who spent his days mending fences, tending animals, and working the fields.
Elena looked away after only a moment.
His appearance did not matter.
She wanted to know what answer the man Thomas had once saved would give tonight.
Victor brushed the last feather from his shoulder and finally spoke.
“Father, that happened a long time ago.”
He glanced at George.
“Thomas hasn’t mentioned it himself in years.
Why bring it up now?”
George’s expression darkened immediately.
“He doesn’t mention it because he never expected you to repay him.”
The old man gripped his pipe, his voice noticeably heavier than before.
“But just because someone doesn’t remind you of what they’ve done doesn’t mean you ought to forget it.”
His gaze shifted briefly toward Harold.
“A man should remember the people who’ve helped him.
Don’t learn to think only of yourself before you’ve learned anything else.”
Harold knew perfectly well whom that remark was aimed at.
He merely lowered his eyes to the table and said nothing.
George gave a heavy snort and turned back to Victor.
“I’ve heard Edmund.”
“I’ve heard Harold.”
“Now it’s your turn.”
“Say what you think.”
Victor’s strained smile became even more uncomfortable.
He was silent for a while before finally saying, “Father, about Thomas…
I’d rather you didn’t make me choose.”
“He’s my brother.”
“He’s always treated me well, and of course I feel terrible about what happened to him.”
Victor hesitated.
“But as for whether we should keep paying doctors to treat his legs, I honestly don’t know what to say.”
George was already frustrated by the answers his other sons had given him.
Hearing Victor try to avoid giving a clear answer only made his brows draw together.
He struck the bowl of his pipe sharply against the edge of the table.
“Then stop circling around it.”
“Say what you mean.”
Victor flinched slightly at the sudden sharpness in his father’s voice.
Yet instead of answering at once, he turned toward his wife.
Laura had remained quietly behind him throughout the discussion.
She wore a long dress faded from repeated washing, with an old apron over it.
Her pregnancy was already obvious beneath the fabric.
When Victor looked at her, she instinctively lowered her head and rested both hands over her belly.
Victor watched her for a moment before letting out a sigh.
“Father, it isn’t that I don’t want to help Thomas.”
“The truth is, we don’t have much money to spare ourselves.”
His eyes dropped toward Laura’s belly.
“We already have two children, and the third will be here soon.
By winter, we’ll need more than food.
There’ll be firewood, clothing, and everything we’ll need once the baby is born.”
George’s face darkened further.
“I’m asking you about Thomas.”
“I know what’s happening in your household.”
Victor quickly raised a hand.
“I know.
I’m only saying that things aren’t easy for us either.”
His voice grew quieter.
“The harvest wasn’t bad this year, but once we’ve paid what we owe and put aside enough grain for winter and seed for spring, we all know there isn’t much left.”
“We have children to feed.
The roof over our rooms needs patching before winter, and one of the boards on the cattle shed broke a few days ago.”
“I remember what Thomas did for me.”
“I’ve never forgotten.”
Victor’s expression became more serious.
“If you need me to help look after him, take over some of his farm work for a while, or give Martha whatever little I can spare, I won’t refuse.”
“But none of us knows how much Dr.
Brown will charge in the end.”
“We don’t know how long Thomas will need treatment either.”
“Something like that…”
He paused, then finally shook his head.
“I simply can’t afford to take it on.”
The room went completely silent.
The faint hope that had returned to Martha when George mentioned the old river accident disappeared just as quickly.
Elena felt her mother’s fingers slowly loosen around hers.
It was like watching the last rope slip from someone’s grasp.
George clearly had not expected this answer either.
He had even brought up the fact that Thomas had once saved Victor’s life, yet his fourth son had still refused to commit himself.
George opened his mouth, apparently ready to scold him.
But the smoke he had just drawn from his pipe caught in his throat.
“Cough—”
He bent forward abruptly.
“Cough…
cough…”
Once he started, he could not seem to stop.
One hand braced against the table while the other pressed to his chest.
His face, already red from anger, quickly turned even darker.
The brothers forgot their argument at once and got to their feet.
“Father!”
“Easy.”
“Don’t try to talk.”
One of them patted George’s back while another hurriedly pushed a cup of water into his hand.
The gloomy room suddenly became chaotic.
The same men who had spent the evening arguing over Thomas’s future now seemed, for a moment, like one family again.
Elena watched from the side without saying anything.
She was more concerned about Martha.
Ever since Victor said he could not afford to take responsibility for Thomas’s treatment, Martha’s shoulders had been trembling faintly. This chapter was taken from novelping dot com without permission.
Her hand grew colder around Elena’s, though her palm had become damp with sweat.
Elena turned slightly to look at her.
Martha kept her head down.
A few loose strands of hair hung across her face, hiding her eyes.
But the bloodless pallor of her face was enough to show how badly the conversation had affected her.
Edmund had never clearly said that he would refuse to help, but neither had he agreed to take responsibility for Thomas’s future treatment.
Harold had been the most straightforward.
He believed the family could not pour all of its savings into a man who might never be able to work again.
Victor had sounded gentler.
He said he cared about Thomas.
He said he remembered that Thomas had once saved his life.
Yet when it came to long-term medical costs and supporting Thomas’s household, he had stepped back all the same.
Their positions could hardly have been clearer.
Elena frowned slightly.
It was not that she could not understand them at all.
Her previous life had taught her long ago that people could rarely be divided neatly into good and bad.
These men were Thomas’s brothers, but they also had wives and children of their own.
If Thomas had suffered an ordinary injury and needed only ten days or half a month to recover, perhaps no one would have complained about giving Martha a few extra pounds of flour, bringing over a basket of eggs, or taking over Thomas’s farm work until he was back on his feet.
But this was different.
If Thomas truly lost his ability to work, the burden would not end with one doctor’s bill.
There would be medical fees, medicine, food, months of recovery, and then the question of how Martha and the children were supposed to live.
No one knew how long it would last.
Their reluctance was harsh, but it was real.
Elena understood that.
And because she understood it, she had no intention of wasting her strength being angry.
Understanding them, however, did not mean she would leave Thomas’s future in their hands.
Elena quietly tightened her fingers around Martha’s cold hand.
Martha seemed to notice.
She shifted slightly, though she still did not raise her head.
Elena said nothing.
In the end, depending on others would never be as reliable as depending on herself.
Dr.
Brown had only made a judgment based on Thomas’s current condition.
He believed it would be difficult for Thomas ever to recover fully.
But Elena had not yet seen the injuries to his legs for herself.
Until she did, she would not accept that conclusion so easily.
What she needed most now was time.
Thomas had suffered severe injuries and lost a great deal of blood.
He was still weak, and Elena certainly was not going to unwrap properly dressed wounds simply to satisfy her own curiosity.
When Dr.
Brown returned to change the dressings, however, she would find a way to see the injuries herself.
As long as there was even a small chance, she would not accept that Thomas was destined to spend the rest of his life in bed.
The commotion around the table continued for a while.
At last, George’s coughing gradually subsided.
He drank several mouthfuls of water and remained seated for some time before his breathing finally steadied.
The episode had clearly exhausted him.
His shoulders, which had remained rigid all evening, now sagged slightly, and the lines on his face seemed deeper in the dim lamplight.
George raised a hand toward the sons gathered around him.
“Enough.”
“Go home.”
Several people looked at him in surprise.
George made no attempt to continue discussing Thomas.
“It’s late.”
“There’s work to be done in the morning.
Anything else can wait.”
With that, the family discussion was clearly over.
Yet the most important question had never truly been settled.
Edmund was the first to stand.
“You and Mother should get some rest.”
He gathered his wife and children and prepared to return to the part of Miller Farm where their household lived.
Harold did not linger either.
After already angering Agnes by bringing up his plan to leave Miller Farm and establish a fully independent household, he was clearly in no mood to remain and invite another argument.
Victor visibly relaxed when he saw his brothers preparing to leave.
But just before reaching the door, he seemed to remember something and turned back toward Martha.
“Martha.”
She looked up.
Victor’s expression softened again.
“We live close by.”
“If anything happens with Thomas tonight, or if he wakes and you need another pair of hands, come and get me.”
“I don’t sleep heavily.
I should hear you.”
Martha looked at him for a moment.
Then she gave a small nod.
“All right.”
Only then did Victor leave with his pregnant wife.
Elena did not look at him again.
Strangely enough, she found Victor’s manner more irritating than Harold’s bluntness.
At least Harold had said exactly what he thought.
He did not want to keep paying for Thomas’s treatment, nor did he want to be responsible for supporting Thomas’s household indefinitely.
Victor, on the other hand, had spent the entire conversation explaining how much he cared about Thomas and how reasonable his circumstances were.
Yet when real responsibility was involved, he had backed away just the same.
And before leaving, he had offered the sort of help that cost almost nothing and carried no long-term obligation.
Come and get me if you need anything.
Elena was not particularly moved.
Once the others had left, Martha took Elena’s hand and prepared to return to the spare room where Thomas was resting.
They had barely taken a few steps when George spoke behind them.
“Martha.”
“Stay a moment.”
Martha stopped.
She turned around, unease immediately appearing on her face.
George had left the table and returned to the wooden chair near the fireplace.
He tapped the ashes from his pipe into the small iron container beside the hearth, then packed a little more tobacco into the bowl.
A thin trail of smoke soon curled upward.
“Your mother and I have something we want to discuss with you privately.”
Martha stiffened.
She had never been one to question her parents-in-law openly, so she merely answered in a low voice.
“All right.”
She still did not release Elena’s hand.
Elena stood beside her with the same vaguely confused expression she had worn all evening, while her thoughts moved quickly.
George had said there was something he and Agnes wanted to discuss with Martha privately.
He had not said they were going to continue discussing Thomas’s treatment.
Those were two very different things.
Earlier, George had called his grown sons together and asked each of them for his opinion, yet he had made no final decision in front of them.
Now that everyone else had gone, he was keeping Martha behind.
Had George and Agnes already made some other plan before tonight’s family discussion even began?
If so, then perhaps George had not gathered his sons merely because he wanted them to decide what should be done.
He had also been watching them.
Watching what each of them would say.
Elena’s gaze shifted slightly.
A man who had managed a farm and a family this large for so many years was unlikely to be nothing more than a stubborn old farmer with a bad temper.
Whatever she was thinking, none of it showed on her face.
George happened to notice her then.
His eyes rested on Elena for a moment, and he seemed mildly surprised.
“You’ve been quiet tonight.”
For once, his tone was not scolding.
“No crying, no running around.”
“Maybe falling into that pond really did knock a little sense into you.”
Martha blinked.
Because Elena had always been different from the other children, George had never been as openly impatient with her as Agnes, but neither had he shown the girl much affection.
Martha looked down at her daughter.
“She’s been much quieter since they pulled her from the pond.
Then she was sick for a while.
She really does seem different.”
George nodded thoughtfully.
Before he could say anything else, Agnes frowned.
“Keep her over there.”
“When was the last time she had a proper wash?”
Martha flushed.
Elena had only recently recovered, and Thomas’s accident had thrown the entire family into chaos.
She had hardly had time to heat enough water for a bath, let alone worry about washing and changing Elena properly.
George frowned at his wife.
“She only just recovered.
Leave the girl alone.”
Agnes gave a cold snort and said nothing more.
George looked at Elena again.
He searched one of his coat pockets, found a few roasted hazelnuts, and beckoned to her.
“Elena.”
“Come here.”
Elena obediently walked over.
George placed the hazelnuts in her palm.
“Your grandmother and I need to talk to your mother.”
“Sit by the fire and eat those.
Don’t wander off.”
Elena looked down at the hazelnuts, then back at Martha.
Although Martha had no idea what the older couple intended to say, she gave her daughter a small nod.
Only then did Elena take the nuts and sit on a low wooden stool beside the fireplace.
Naturally, she had no intention of going far.
In fact, the place George had chosen for her was perfect.
As far as George and Agnes were concerned, Elena was still the simple-minded girl who understood very little.
As long as she sat quietly by the fire eating hazelnuts, neither of them would think to guard their words around her.
Elena lowered her head and slowly cracked open the first shell.
Once George saw that she had settled down, he turned his attention back to Martha.
He let out a long sigh.
“Martha.”
“You saw what happened tonight.”
“I don’t need to tell you what Thomas’s brothers think.”
Martha lowered her head and said nothing.
George continued.
“Thomas has always been one of the strongest workers in this family.
Plowing in spring, cutting hay in summer, bringing in wheat in autumn, repairing fences and chopping wood in winter—he’s never been one to avoid hard work.”
“Now he’s suddenly laid up like this.
That’s no small matter for this family.”
The old man looked down at his pipe, his voice becoming heavier.
“Your mother and I are getting old.”
“One day, this farm will have to depend on the boys.”
“And now this happens…”
Martha’s eyes began to sting.
“We’ve caused trouble for everyone…”
George shook his head.
“Don’t say that.”
“I’ve watched you and Thomas all these years.”
“Neither of you has ever been lazy.”
The words stirred a faint spark of hope in Martha’s heart.
Then George said what she had been longing to hear.
“We still have to find a way to treat Thomas’s legs.”
Martha’s head snapped up.
Her eyes filled almost instantly.
George looked exhausted, but this time his words were clear.
“He’s only in his thirties.”
“He has you and three children.”
“We can’t simply decide now that he’ll spend the rest of his life in bed.
As long as Dr.
Brown believes there’s something more that can be done, we ought to keep trying.”
Tears spilled down Martha’s cheeks.
“But…
Edmund and the others…”
She could not finish.
George knew exactly what she meant.
“That’s why your mother and I kept you behind.”
He was silent for a moment.
“The boys are grown now.
Each of them has a wife, children, and a household to think about.”
“I’m still the head of this family, but they’re not boys of fifteen anymore.
There are some things I can’t force them to do, no matter how angry I get.”
“Harold said plenty tonight that I didn’t like, but he wasn’t wrong about everything.”
The hope in Martha’s eyes faltered.
George spoke slowly.
“Thomas’s injuries are serious.”
“Even if we keep bringing in doctors, nobody can promise he’ll recover.”
“You know how hard it is for a family like ours to save money.”
“If we spend every penny we have, everyone who still depends on Miller Farm may struggle when winter comes.”
The light in Martha’s eyes faded again.
She stared at George, confused.
If Thomas still needed treatment, but the family could not spend all its savings, then what were they supposed to do?
Elena continued cracking hazelnuts beside the fireplace.
She did not look up, but she heard every word.
After a short silence, George finally revealed what he had in mind.
“Your mother and I talked it over.”
“Once Thomas is a little more stable, I’m going to ask around in town.”
Martha blinked.
“Ask about what?”
George did not immediately look at her.
“There are a few women in town who arrange marriages, aren’t there?”
The color in Martha’s face slowly changed.
George continued.
“When the time comes, give Elena a proper wash.
Find her a clean dress and comb her hair neatly.”
“Try to keep her as quiet as she was tonight.”
“Don’t let her cry or make a scene in front of anyone.”
Martha’s head jerked up.
“Father!”
There was unmistakable alarm in her voice.
“You want to find a husband for Elena?”
Beside the fireplace, Elena’s fingers paused over the hazelnut shell.
She had assumed George kept Martha behind because he had another idea for raising money.
After all that— he had turned his attention to her.
George let out a deep sigh but did not answer immediately.
Agnes, however, spoke coldly from her chair.
“If we don’t find someone willing to take her, where do you think the money for Thomas’s treatment is supposed to come from?”
Every trace of color drained from Martha’s face.
Elena lowered her eyes to the freshly cracked hazelnut in her palm.
The corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
Wonderful.
For a moment, she had thought that although her grandfather was stubborn, he was at least more dependable than her uncles.
Apparently— she had given him far too much credit.