Healing Their Amish Hearts

Thankfully, he’d been able to sell his smaller farm in Pennsylvania to a neighbor, which had allowed him to purchase this new, bigger place in Colorado. And right now, he needed to get back to work.

The screen door on the back of the house clapped closed as Sam came outside. Jesse barely glanced at the boy, trying to think of something to say that would make Becca Graber go away and leave him alone. Instead, she smiled at Sam, so brightly that Jesse could only stare at her for several seconds. Bending at the waist, she looked the boy in the eyes.

“Hallo, Sam. How are you?” she asked.

The boy’s eyes widened, his face creased with worry. He shuffled his feet, looking anxious. A few gurgling sounds came from the back of his throat but he couldn’t seem to get any words out. Finally, he jabbed a finger urgently at the house and Becca gasped.

“Gucke! Something is burning,” she cried.

Jesse turned and saw billows of black smoke rushing from the open doorway of the kitchen. Oh, no! The pork chops. They must be burning. He’d completely forgotten all about them.

“Stay here,” he commanded as he raced into the house.

A thick fog of black smoke emanated from the metal frying pan sitting on top of the gas stove and filled the kitchen. As a certified firefighter, Jesse knew what to do. He reached into the cupboard beneath the sink and pulled out a Class B kitchen fire extinguisher. Aiming the nozzle, he blasted the burning pan with a fog of fire retardant. Then, he picked up the metal lid and, angling it to protect his face, slid it over the top of the pan to snuff out the grease fire. Lastly, he switched off the burner and slid the pan away from the source of heat.

A light tapping came from the open doorway and Becca poked her head in. “Is it safe to come in now?”

She stood there holding Sam’s hand, waiting for Jesse’s permission to enter. He nodded, wishing she’d go away. This had been a simple grease fire but it had brought the past right back for him. The night Alice and their two daughters had been killed, he was off fighting a house fire somewhere else. If only he’d been home that night, he might have saved them. It was his fault they were gone. It had been his job to protect them. His job to keep them safe.

And he’d failed.

His body trembled as he stood looking at the charred remnants of the four pork chops. He’d put the meat on the lowest heat, thinking they’d be fine until he returned from the barn. Now, he had nothing to feed Sam for supper.

He glanced at Becca and saw her gazing at his hands. Reddish-purple scars covered his skin, extending up both of his forearms. A cruel reminder that he’d run into a burning house to try and save his wife and daughters.

He folded his arms, hiding the ugly scars. Without speaking, Becca quietly opened all the windows and doors, allowing the chilly breeze to clear the house of smoke. As if from a distance, Jesse watched her silently. No matter how hard he clenched them, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

Becca directed little Sam to put on his coat until the room could be warmed up again. With rapt attention, the boy followed her every move as she built up the fire in the potbellied stove.

She glanced at Jesse and hesitated. From her sympathetic expression, he was certain she could see the truth inside him. That he was upset. Shaken by the grease fire. He felt suddenly exposed. The moment was too personal. Too private. Because it hit too close to home. A reminder of what had happened a year earlier when he’d lost everyone in his familye, except Sam. And he didn’t want Becca Graber to see that. Or to know what he tried so hard to hide.

“You should leave,” he said, feeling grouchy.

“You’ll need something else for supper.” She spoke in that soft, efficient voice of hers.

Without permission, she stepped over to the cupboards and opened the doors, peering inside. He knew she would find them as empty as his broken heart. She opened the fridge before lifting her eyebrows in a dubious expression.

“Is this all the food you have in the house?” she asked, gesturing to the skimpy remnants of a ham and a small chunk of Swiss cheese.

“That and the milk.” Jesse retrieved the two buckets and set them on the counter by the sink. Having a chore to do helped soothe his jangled nerves.

Alice had always made their butter and cheese. Jesse knew the process but didn’t have time to sit and churn milk into curd. And the few times he had done so, it didn’t taste right when he finished. Something was missing.

Alice, Mary and Susanna were gone.

Pulling the ham and cheese from the fridge, Becca set them on the counter. She paused for just a moment, looking at the sink filled with dirty dishes. Without recriminations, she picked up a horse harness he had been mending and carried it to set beside the back door. Then, she rolled up her sleeves and quickly washed two plates and glasses.

“I noticed you have a coop but it doesn’t look like you have any chickens on your place, so you don’t have any eggs.” She spoke as she worked. “Maybe in the spring you can get some baby chicks. But this will do for tonight.”

Yes, he planned to buy some chickens next week. He also wanted to buy pigs, draft horses and another milk cow once the weather warmed up. But for now, he’d have to make do. A trip to the grocery store in town was definitely on the agenda for the morning. He’d stock up so this didn’t happen again.

Becca shivered and Jesse placed another stick of wood in the potbellied stove. His home wasn’t much to look at. The walls were dingy and scarred, the rooms devoid of furniture. Upstairs in the bedrooms, he’d laid two mattresses on the bare wood floors for him and Sam to sleep. No chairs. No chests of drawers. No armoires, curtains, rugs or wall hangings. The house had been uninhabited for six years. He’d been told the previous owner was Englisch and couldn’t make a go of the place. But Jesse was willing to work hard and didn’t need much to earn a simple living for him and Sam. He’d bought the farm cheap from a foreclosure sale and was glad to have it.

Becca set out the last six slices of his store-bought bread and layered them with wedges of ham and cheese for sandwiches. It’d be a dry meal but they could wash the food down with plenty of milk.

Watching her slender hands work, he thought about how much he missed Alice’s homemade breads, biscuits, pies and cakes.

“Here you go.” Becca set the two plates on the table and directed Sam to sit.

The boy gave her a questioning glance, his eyes wide, his little face so sweet and innocent. Jesse dearly loved his son. He truly did. But Sam was a constant reminder of all that they’d lost. Because Sam had set the fire. And though Jesse knew it wasn’t right, he couldn’t help blame the boy. He’d tried to forgive his son just as he’d tried to forgive himself. He really had. But he hadn’t been able to do so. Not yet, anyway.

“Ahem, will you join us?” Jesse asked, trying to be polite but wishing she’d go now.

“Ne, I’ll eat when I get home. This is for you,” Becca said.

Surprised by how she seemed to have taken over his home, Jesse joined Sam at the table. Within a few moments, they had bowed their heads and blessed the food. Jesse didn’t know what else to do. While Becca poured his son a glass of milk right from the pail, Sam immediately picked up his ham sandwich and took a big bite.

“I’m going to head home now.” Becca spoke to Jesse. “It’s getting dark outside and the roads will turn icy. I think you and I should speak more in depth at another time when you aren’t so...indisposed.”

Jesse nodded eagerly. “Ja, another time, perhaps.”

But she didn’t move. Didn’t take a single step toward the door. Instead, she closed the windows above the sink, seeming satisfied that enough smoke had dissipated from the house. Since it was wintertime, the days were shorter and it was already getting dark outside. She lit two kerosene lamps. The wicks flickered, sending eerie shadows to chase around the room. He could see her curious gaze as she peered into every corner. A feeling of mortification washed over him. He was highly conscious of the run-down condition of his home. And more than ever, he missed Alice’s home bottled beans, corn, peaches and tomatoes. She’d cared for their children and kept their home running with methodical order. But like everything else, it had all gone up in smoke.

“I... I’ve been kinda busy. I haven’t had time to go into town to the grocery store. And I haven’t had time yet to repair and paint some of the holes in the walls.” He sat there, his thumbs looped through his suspenders.

She brushed past him. He caught her scent...a clean, citrusy smell that he kind of liked. “I understand completely. It must be difficult being on your own in a new place with a little boy to raise. But don’t worry. You’ll get things in order soon.” She spoke in a cheerful, positive voice as she picked up the pair of gloves she’d set aside earlier when she’d prepared their supper.

Finally. Finally she stepped toward the outside door. Jesse stood and followed, breathing a silent sigh of relief. She was really leaving this time. But she stopped at the door and turned, catching him unaware. As he gazed down into her beautiful blue eyes, he couldn’t help comparing her to Alice. The two women were so different. Alice had been filled with inner strength but she’d been shy, quiet and unassuming. So different from Becca, who was rather bossy, outgoing and quick to take matters into her own hands.

“Mr. King, until we can make a more formal plan of action, I’d like to suggest that you read to Sam each evening. Try to get him to read to you as well. I really think that would help for the time being,” she said.

Read to Sam? Jesse didn’t have time for such nonsense but didn’t say so. He wasn’t interested in taking advice from an inexperienced schoolteacher like Becca Graber, no matter how attractive she was. But he nodded.

He accompanied her outside but didn’t help as she climbed into her buggy. He didn’t think it would be appropriate to touch her. With a wave of her hand, she bid him farewell and her horse took off at a jaunty trot.

Jesse stood there, watching her go. And as she turned onto the main county road, he breathed a deep sigh of relief. He couldn’t help feeling as if a tornado had just swept through his home. Rebecca Graber. What a dynamo. Jesse chuckled, thinking that another fire wouldn’t dare invade his new house. Because if it did, Tornado Becca would just sweep it away.

Chapter Two

Becca pulled another dusty book off the shelf and promptly sneezed. Flipping through the front table of contents, she read each topic, searching for anything that might help Sam King. After a few moments, she added this text to her growing pile. She had chosen at least six good books on vocabulary and selective mutism and how to help children who wouldn’t speak.

Standing inside the town library, she perused a bulleted list on a tip sheet, her mind churning. The little bit she’d learned that morning was not what she’d expected. Not at all. Selective mutism wasn’t a problem where a child refused to speak in order to get attention. Nor was the child acting naughty. Rather, such children had an anxiety disorder wherein they couldn’t speak because their apprehension was so severe they were actually scared silent.

Flipping to a chapter on treatment, she braced the book against the shelf and continued reading. It was Saturday morning and she’d taken advantage of the clear weather to come into town and see what she might find. She could check out library books, as long as they magnified Jesus Christ. Jakob Fisher, her first cousin, had driven her here but she’d have to walk back to his farm. She lived with Jakob, his wife and three children, her aunt and grandfather. If she found some help for Sam today, the nine-mile walk home would be worth it.

An hour earlier, she’d paid a quick visit to Caroline Schwartz, Sam’s permanent teacher. The poor girl was still in the hospital, her legs and hips in traction. If Caroline hoped to walk again, she’d be restricted to bed for the next four months. At barely eighteen years of age, Caroline seemed even more inexperienced at teaching than Becca. And since the accident had happened about the same time Jesse and Sam had moved to the area, Caroline hadn’t yet been able to do anything about the boy’s problem. She’d explained to Becca that she’d ordered a newsletter written by Amish parents of special needs children titled Life’s Special Sunbeams. That might be of some help but Becca doubted it. Still, she had the address of the national publication and planned to subscribe as well.

Caroline had also tried to speak with Jesse King but the man had terrified her with his offish manner. No surprise there. Jesse didn’t seem to like anyone. But Becca wasn’t about to let the oafish man scare her off. She was determined to do something to help Sam, with or without his father’s cooperation. She believed Sam’s unwillingness to speak had everything to do with his mother and sisters’ deaths.

Lifting the pile of books, Becca carried them back to the open area of the library. Her mind buzzed with a number of techniques she’d like to try with Sam. Ritual greetings every morning at school, including him in activities even if he didn’t speak and some other techniques to reduce his anxiety while at school. She had some flash cards she could use but thought she might need to spend extra time working one-on-one with Sam when the other children weren’t around to distract or startle him. And she wasn’t sure how to build that time into the school curriculum. It wouldn’t be prudent to ignore the other children’s needs because Sam required so much extra attention but she’d figure it out.

Making her way back to the table where she’d been jotting down notes, she thought of a possible solution...and promptly bumped into someone.

“Oof!”

She looked up and blinked. “Mr. King.”

He stared down at her with widened eyes, seeming just as surprised as she was. “Hallo, Miss Graber.”

“Wh...what are you doing here?” she asked, thinking how nonsensical she sounded.

He shifted his weight and she saw that he held a book in his hand. He quickly lowered his arm, shielding the text behind his thigh. From his nervous gesture, she thought he was trying to conceal it from her. But he didn’t know her very well. Reaching behind him, she took the book from his hand and read the title out loud.

“The Silent Child.”

His face flushed red as a sugar beet. Ah, he wasn’t as withdrawn from his son’s problem as he made it appear. In fact, it looked as though he was actually trying to do something to help Sam. And right then and there, Becca’s opinion of Jesse King improved just a tad. Up to now, she’d had little respect for the man but realized he wasn’t the uncaring, brutish father he appeared to be. But why did he have to be so difficult about it? Why did he have to hide his concern? It seemed as though he were fighting against himself. As though he didn’t want to care about Sam, yet he did. Very much.

She met his gaze, noticing the irritated glint in his eyes. She could tell that he didn’t like meeting her here. She held the book out to him and he took it reluctantly.

“It looks like you’re reading up on Sam’s problem.” She spoke the obvious.

“Ja, I thought maybe...” He didn’t finish the sentence. “What are you doing here?” he asked instead.

She held up several books on the same topic. “The same as you. Looking for ways to help Sam.”

He snorted. “I doubt it’ll do any gut. I’ve already tried everything I can think of and Sam still won’t talk. He hasn’t said a single word in almost a year.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged and looked away but not before she saw the pain written in his eyes. Her heart gave a painful squeeze. The poor little boy. And the poor man too! This couldn’t be easy on Jesse either.

“But we have to try, don’t we?” she asked.

He glanced at his son, who sat a short distance away at another table, poring over several children’s books. The boy’s lips were moving and Becca got the impression he was reading to himself. She’d seen him do this in school before but what it meant, she had no idea.

“It appears that he can read,” she observed.

“Ja, his mudder taught him. She...she used to read to all our kinder all the time. Sam can definitely read.”

Hmm. Was that why Jesse seemed so against reading to Sam each night? Because it was something his wife had done before she died? Or was it simply because he was busy and thought reading to his son was a woman’s job? Well, it was time to teach him differently. Fathers could read to their kids just as well as mothers.

“Are you planning to read to Sam each night, as we discussed?” she asked.

“I... I don’t have a lot of extra time. By the time I finish my barn chores, Sam’s usually half-asleep. And I’ve been trying to make us some furniture in the evenings,” he hedged.

Becca didn’t argue. She sensed that she couldn’t push Jesse King any more than she could little Sam. But still, Jesse had come to the library to check out some books. That was a good start.

“Any idea how well Sam can read?” Becca asked.

He shrugged those unbelievably wide shoulders of his. “Ne, I have no idea. I just know he can read. He was always a bright little fellow before...”

Before his momma died. That was good. If they could just get Sam to speak again, it could open up a whole new world for the boy. And possibly open the world again to Jesse King too.

He sidestepped her, edging toward his son. “Um, we were just leaving. We have to get home soon.”

“But I was hoping to meet with you at length. Is there a time when you and I can sit down and develop a plan of action for Sam?”

He shook his head. “Not today.”

“But, Mr. King!” She took a step after him.

“Shh!” The librarian appeared out of nowhere, pressing a finger to her lips. From the stern lift of the woman’s eyebrows, Becca realized she must have spoken too loudly.

Without another word, Jesse turned and hurried over to Sam. The man’s black felt hat sat on the table top and he picked it up and placed it on his head. Becca watched in frustration, longing to go after him. Wanting to make him listen to her. But she knew she couldn’t force him to do what he didn’t want to do. And that’s when something else occurred to her.

Sam didn’t speak because he was traumatized by the deaths of his mother and sister. But Jesse King was just as traumatized in his own way. And he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. She could empathize with the man. Losing his wife and daughters must have scarred his heart as much as it had Sam’s. And that’s when she decided to give Jesse some space. He’d been reluctant to help, yet he’d come to the library on his own. With a little more time, maybe he would seek out her assistance as well. But for Sam’s sake, she hoped Jesse didn’t wait too long.

“Come on, Sam.” Jesse spoke low as he took the boy’s arm and tugged gently.

Sam had no choice but to follow and he reluctantly left his books behind. As they headed toward the front door, he looked back at the texts with such longing that Becca knew he wasn’t finished with them yet. She couldn’t help wondering why Jesse seemed so antisocial. Every time she tried to talk to him, he acted skittish, like he wanted to get away. Or was it just her he didn’t like? She wasn’t sure but it seemed to her that Jesse fought against himself. Some inner strife seemed to wage a battle inside of him. She figured it all must relate to his deceased wife and daughters.

She watched as they hurried out of the library without a single book in tow. Even Jesse had abandoned the text he’d been holding. It was such a shame. Both the father and son could benefit greatly from those texts. Becca decided to do something about it. Stepping over to Sam’s table, she scooped up most of the plethora of books the child had been reading and carried them over to the checkout counter with her own selections. She added Jesse’s book to the pile. No matter how hard he tried, Jesse King was not getting rid of her.

Jesse flicked the leather lead lines at his horse’s rump and settled into his seat. After leaving the library, he’d taken Sam over to the grocery store and stocked up on numerous cases of canned and boxed goods. Soup, chili, corn, string beans, peaches, pears and oatmeal. Now, even if he did burn their supper, he’d have something in the house to feed his son. It wasn’t that he didn’t have money to buy food but rather he had too many chores to carry alone. He needed his wife and daughters back. He needed Alice more than ever.

The buggy-wagon swayed gently as he turned the horse off Main Street and headed along the county road. The clop of the horse’s hooves hitting the black asphalt soothed his jangled nerves. He didn’t know why he’d gone to the library in town. Sam had been delighted. Though the boy didn’t speak, Jesse could see his pleasure written across his face and in the little skip in his stride. It had been a lapse in judgment and Jesse had been mortified to be caught there by Becca Graber. Having been raised by a strong, domineering father, Jesse didn’t like feeling out of control. And that’s how Sam’s problem made him feel. Out of control.

Sam sat silently beside him on the front seat. Jesse knew his son wasn’t happy to leave his books behind. Maybe he should have checked them out for the boy. Even if he didn’t read to Sam, there was no reason to keep the child from reading on his own. They both already lived such a lonely, isolated life. The books might open up the world to Sam. They might help him speak again.

Maybe on Monday, Jesse could make another quick trip into town and check out the books for Sam. Wouldn’t the boy be excited when he came home from school and found a pile of texts waiting for him?

The thought made Jesse go very still. He’d been so angry at Sam for so long now that it was a novelty for him to want to make the boy happy. But he did. In fact, Jesse longed to hear his son’s laughter again. How he wished his son would speak.

At that moment, Sam lifted an arm and pointed. Jesse could just make out a lone figure, walking ahead of them on the side of the road. From her plain dress, black tights, heavy shawl and bonnet, he could tell she was Amish. She carried a heavy bag in each hand. Probably walking home after shopping in town. But then he saw a flash of purple skirts and knew exactly who she was.

Becca Graber.

His shoulders tensed and he thought of driving on by without acknowledging her. But that would be too rude, even for him.

As his buggy-wagon neared, she glanced over her shoulder and moved a safe distance off the road so she wouldn’t be trampled. He instantly regretted making her move as he watched her sidestep the muddy ground.

When he pulled up beside her, she stopped and nodded, her hands too encumbered by the heavy bags to wave.

“Hallo! Fancy meeting you out here on the road,” she said.

Her voice held a happy lilt and he wondered vaguely if anything ever got her down.

“Ja, fancy that. You look as though your arms are quite full. Can we offer you a ride home?” Though his voice held little enthusiasm, Jesse forced himself to say the words, knowing it was the right thing to do.

She hesitated, glancing at the long road ahead. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

He’d heard that she lived with the Fishers, who were her relatives. Dawdi Zeke, the eldest member of the Gmay at ninety-six years, was her grandfather. They lived nine miles outside of town and Jesse would pass right by their farm on his way home. Ironically, the Fishers were his neighbors. A fact that made it much too easy for Becca to drive over to their place whenever she wanted. He just hoped she didn’t make a habit of popping in during the supper hour.

“Ne, of course not. We pass by your place on our way home. Climb in.” The moment he made the invitation, he regretted it. He didn’t want to give Sam’s schoolteacher a ride home. He wanted to be left alone.

“Ach, danke so much. I didn’t realize how heavy these books would be when I was sitting in the library.” She handed the bags to him and he set them on the floor of the back seat.

As she climbed up to sit with Sam in between them, Jesse saw her glance back at the wagon. It was filled with boxes and bags of groceries, shingles and other roofing supplies, as well as a large crate of live chickens. The hens had fluffed their feathers and huddled together for warmth as they clucked with impatience. He didn’t get into town often and had made the best of this trip.

“I see you’ve been to the grocery store and got some hens too,” she said as she settled herself.

“Ja.” He flicked the leads at the horse’s rump and they lurched forward.

“That’s gut. At least you’ll have fresh eggs to eat if you burn the pork chops again.” She laughed, the sound high and sweet. There was no guile in her voice but simply a gentle sense of humor.

Jesse would have smiled but he still couldn’t decide if he liked this woman. She was definitely likeable, if he weren’t still missing Alice so much.

“Sam, I have something special for you.” She reached around and rummaged inside one of her burlap bags before pulling out the pile of books the boy had abandoned at the library.

Sam made a happy sound in the back of his throat and took the books onto his lap.

“And this is for you.” She pulled out the book Jesse had been perusing and held it up for his inspection.

Jesse went very still. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad. He’d wanted to check out the book but he didn’t want it forced down his throat by the pretty schoolteacher.

“I know you were in a big hurry to get home, so I thought I could check them out for you,” she said.

Hmm. Interesting how she was making this easy for him, as if he’d been indisposed so she’d done him a favor.

“I had planned to bring them to you at church tomorrow. Now you can read this evening. But you’ll only be able to keep them for two weeks before they’re due back at the library,” she warned.

She smiled and spoke so happily that Jesse didn’t have the heart to scold her for being presumptuous. Her gesture was kind and he realized she only had their best interests at heart.

“Danke.” He spoke low, forcing himself to say the word.

“You’re willkomm.”

Turning in her seat, she perused the clear but chilly day. The afternoon sun had done its best to melt off the snow but slushy spots on the road would soon ice up as evening came on and he was eager to get home. Driving a horse and buggy at night was not safe. Cars and trucks traveled way too fast and might come upon them without seeing their reflective lights. He’d heard that Caroline Schwartz, the regular schoolteacher, had been driving a buggy at night when she was hit from behind. The accident had nearly killed the poor girl and they’d had to put her horse down.

“Isn’t it a nice day?” Becca asked, then gave an exaggerated shiver. “But brrr, it’s so cold. Still, it could always be worse. At least it isn’t snowing again.”

Jesse agreed but didn’t answer. He just listened as Becca talked on and on about inconsequential things. The weather. Their church meetings tomorrow. The end-of-year program she was planning for the school. The box social fund-raiser she’d been asked to coordinate so they could purchase playground equipment for the school. He glanced at her pretty profile, thinking once again that she was like a whirl of wind. And he wasn’t sure he liked that.

“Did you walk into town this morning?” he asked.

“Ne, my cousin, Jakob, gave me a ride. He needed to buy supplies too. But I wanted to stay longer and told him I’d walk home this afternoon. Since the weather was clear, he agreed.” She gazed out at the damp countryside. “I think at that time, I underestimated how cold it is outside. I walked everywhere when I lived in Ohio but I’m still not used to the colder weather in Colorado. And everything is so spread out here. My cousin’s farm is much too far from town to walk in the cold and I won’t make that mistake again.”

He agreed. If she had been his cousin, he would not have let her walk nine miles on such a cold winter’s day. And though he would never admit such a thing, it kind of upset him that Jakob Fisher had been so derelict in her care. Since he’d lived here for a number of years already, the man should have known better.

“I’m sorry. I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” she said suddenly.

Yes, but he didn’t say so. He would never admit that he liked her incessant chatter. It had been so long since he’d listened to a woman talk about everything and nothing and it filled up the lonely void of the ride. With Sam not speaking, Jesse’s life had become overly quiet and he realized he was hungry to talk to someone. Anyone! Even if that someone happened to be Sam’s pushy schoolteacher.

Before he knew it, they had arrived at the turnoff to the Fishers’ farm. Jesse wasn’t about to make Becca walk the muddy road leading to the house and he turned the horse down the lane. The two-story log structure looked just the same as his, except that it was in pristine repair. So was the large, red barn. The tidy property was outlined by long barbed wire fences and fallow fields waiting for spring plowing. Black-and-white milk cows stood in a corral, chewing their cud. Several draft horses stood together near a cluster of barren trees. In the summertime, he had no doubt the place would be burgeoning with green life.

One day soon, Jesse hoped his own farm looked in this good a shape but he knew it would take time and lots of hard work for it to prosper. But he intended to do just that. Bishop Yoder had offered to coordinate a work frolic to help with some of the repairs but Jesse had politely refused. He’d come here for isolation and didn’t want a lot of people around his place asking a lot of questions about Alice and their girls. For now, he wanted to be left alone.