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their conversations, she replied, “The kids are having more fun now than we had the first night after the flood. For lots of us, those mats were our beds. We were so exhausted we would have slept on the wood floor.”

      “Glen,” the woman with the clipboard said, “here’s your client. Carolyn Wiebe.”

      Trying not to bristle at the woman’s tone that suggested Carolyn was an unworthy charity case, she was glad when the woman walked away.

      “I’m Glen Landis,” said the man who was as thin as the hair across his pate. “The project director.”

      “We’ve met,” Carolyn replied, pulling her tattered composure around her like a comfortable blanket. “About a year and a half ago, you came to speak at the Evergreen Corners Mennonite Meetinghouse about your experiences.”

      “In the recovery efforts after Hurricanes Katrina and Harvey?” He smiled as Michael’s two friends jogged across the gym to join them. From his speech, she’d learned he considered rebuilding homes and communities his mission work. “Those were overwhelming experiences. I’ve been told you’ve met some of the people who’ll be working on your house.”

      “I’ve met Benjamin, James and Michael.” She looked at each man as she said his name. Only belatedly did she realize how foolish she’d been to speak Michael’s name last. Without an excuse to shift away, her gaze lingered on him.

      Michael gave her a bolstering smile, and she wished she could fling her arms around him as Rose Anne had. She hadn’t realized how much she needed someone’s support.

      “Here comes the rest of the crew,” Glen said, motioning for everyone to take a seat.

      He went around the table, introducing each person. Art Kennel was the man who looked like a jolly grandfather. Jose Lopez was almost as lanky as Glen and taller. The sole woman was Trisha Lehman. She had the same no-nonsense air about her as the woman by the door, but her smile put Carolyn at ease.

      After leading them in prayer to thank God for His grace in bringing them together, Glen pulled a stack of pages stapled on one side out of a briefcase by his chair. He put them in front of Carolyn.

      “This is our standard house plan.” He glanced around the table. “Several of you have already built one or more of these houses. If you haven’t or you want to examine the plans more closely, get a copy from me after this meeting.”

      She stared at the simple house with a living room, kitchen, a bath and two bedrooms. It wasn’t as big as her previous house, but it would be more than sufficient for what she and the children needed.

      As if she’d spoken aloud, Glen said, “Carolyn, if you see things you want to have changed, now is the time to tell us.”

      “What sort of things?” She thought of the house the water had taken from her. That rundown house had been their home, something that couldn’t be drawn on paper.

      “I know you have two children, a girl and a boy. If you want a third bedroom, so each child may have their own—something I’ve been told by my own kids is an absolute necessity—we can add one. It’s possible to get a second bathroom, but it’ll depend on the amount of money raised through donors and what you can contribute.”

      “Definitely the extra bedroom, but one bathroom will suffice.”

      “That we should be able to provide within the budget we’ve been given.” He opened a bright blue folder and wrote some notes before launching into an explanation of what each of the six pages in the plans contained.

      Carolyn tried to take in the information on septic systems and wells and the required number of electric outlets and where a stackable washer and dryer could be put if she wanted to keep the coat closet by the front door and a linen cupboard in the bathroom. Her head spun with numbers and dimensions, and she was relieved when Glen reassured her they’d be revisiting the plans every day on the work site and once a week in the gym.

      “The first supplies will be delivered this afternoon,” he announced as he refolded the plans. “We hope to start on your house within days. It’ll depend on the weather, of course.”

      “I understand.” Looking around the table, she said, “Thank you, everyone. Your kindness humbles me. You make me want to live Hebrews 13:2 ‘Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.’ My door will always be open to you.” She laughed. “Once I have a door, that is.”

      The others joined in her laughter, and Michael took her hand under the table and squeezed it. A sense of comfort filled her at his compassion.

      “Oh, one more thing,” Glen said. “We’ve asked the press to stay away, but we hope you’ll agree to a short interview, Carolyn, after we have the blessing for your new home. We’ve found seeing how others have worked with us leads to more people offering to volunteer. Everyone wants to be part of a happy ending to what started out as a sad story.”

      Carolyn stiffened. “An interview?”

      “Nothing complicated. A short film to put on our website to show donors how they’ve helped.”

      Horror pulsed through every vein in her body, like the flood waters closing in around her again, only this time with fire atop of the rushing waves. She shook her head.

      “Is that a problem?” asked Glen.

      She pushed back her chair. “If doing an interview is a condition for your help, I can’t do this.”

      “You don’t want our help?”

      Wishing she didn’t have to see the shock on these kind faces, she wondered how much more appalled they’d be if she told them the truth of why she was turning down their offer. Would any of them have been able to comprehend the depth of fear stalking her in the form of Leland Reber?

      “No,” she whispered.

      Michael came to his feet along with everyone else at the table when Carolyn stood and, taking Rose Anne by the hand as the little girl protested she needed to retrieve her shoes, started for the door. Unlike everyone else who seemed frozen in shock, he couldn’t watch her throw away her future. Didn’t she realize how blessed she was to know what future she wanted?

      As he strode after her, he was surprised to feel a pinch of vexation. Her future was assured if she agreed to the terms set out by Amish Helping Hands’ partners. She could enjoy a comfortable life with her kinder among her friends, neighbors and congregation. It was being handed to her, and she was turning her back on it.

      How he envied her for having the chance to have the life she wanted! Nobody could offer him that, because he didn’t know how he wished his future to unfurl.

      He blocked Carolyn’s path to the door. She started to walk around him, but he edged to the side, halting her.

      “Are you out of your mind?” he asked, not caring that everyone in the gym was staring at him and Carolyn. He bent and whispered to Rose Anne to go play with the other kinder. As the little girl skipped across the gym, he looked at her mamm. “Your kinder can’t live the rest of their lives in a barn.”

      “I don’t want to be interviewed.”

      “If you’re shy—” he began, though he couldn’t believe that was the case. She’d been outgoing when he’d arrived.

      “I don’t want to be interviewed.”

      “Tell Glen that. I’m sure he can find someone else to talk to the reporters.”

      “It’s not just being interviewed. I don’t want anyone taking our pictures.”

      He frowned. “I thought the Mennonites were more liberal than we Amish are. When I first saw the news about the damage here, there were plenty of pictures of people gathered at your meetinghouse.”

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