Over the heads of their children, Anna and Frederick smiled at each other. The months had put lines on her face; he knew the days and nights had not been easy. He had yet to rub the rough callouses on her hands and find out about the shoes! Anna saw that her husband had grown, that he had gone far. He had walked in high places. But now he was home again. They were together.
They feasted that evening. The children tumbled over themselves being useful. They emptied their plates and then sat listening, wide-eyed. He talked and then he too asked questions.
“Say nothing about the shoes. We’ll surprise him,” she had cautioned.
A joke on Pa! They hugged their secret gleefully, as children will.
At last the house was still and she lay down beside him.
“Everything’s gone fine, hasn’t it, dear?” He spoke with deep contentment. “The children are well. The house looks better than it did when I went away. How did you do it?”
Her body touched his in the old bed.
“I managed,” she murmured. The shoes had made her hands rough and hard. His skin was warm and smooth.
“Have you missed me?” he asked.
Her sigh of response came from a heart at peace.