by Marta Perry
The afternoon wore on. It proved impossible to get Caleb out of the house, so they stopped trying. Deciding to leave him to Zeb, Aaron got up.
“I’ll go out and see that everything is ready for the milking.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Caleb’s reply seemed almost automatic by now, and Aaron’s patience finally snapped.
“If you don’t trust me to do it, just say so.”
Their gazes met, and for a long moment, he and his brother stared at each other. Then Caleb shook his head. “I thought... I was too hard on you before. Expecting you to do a man’s work when you were just a boy. I see that now. I don’t want to push you away again.”
All of Aaron’s preconceptions about Caleb crumbled into dust. “It’s not... That’s not why I went. Well, not the whole reason, anyway. It wasn’t your doing—it was mine. Now that I’m here...” He paused, trying to get it clear in his own mind. “I just want you to treat me like your brother.”
The kitchen was so silent they could hear the soft movements from the room over their heads. Caleb’s face contorted. Then he grabbed Aaron in a rough hug, shaking him a little. When he drew back, Aaron thought he saw unshed tears in his eyes. He knew there were in his.
“Yah,” Caleb said finally. “Get along out to the milking shed. There’s work to do.”
Grinning, Aaron went.
Aaron stayed busy outside for well over an hour, but by the time he and Daniel returned to the house, he was wondering what they’d find. If the baby hadn’t come yet, he’d think it was time to start worrying.
They found Rebecca, Daniel’s intended, in control in the kitchen. Caleb was pacing from one end of the room to the other and then back again. Aaron had heard all the jokes about expectant fathers, but he’d never actually expected to see his controlled oldest brother in such a state.
Caleb swung on them. “Is the phone working yet? I think—”
“Hush.” Rebecca had paused, one hand on the oven door, seeming to listen to something above them.
And then they all heard it—the thin, protesting wail of the newborn.
There was a concerted rush to the hallway. Caleb had his foot on the first step when Leah came out of the room. “Jessie is fine,” she said quickly. She smiled. “You have a son.”
“Praise the gut Lord,” Zeb said, his face seeming ready to split with his smile. He pounded Caleb on the back. “A new baby. A little bruder for Becky and Timothy.”
“I’ll show him how to play with my blocks,” Timothy said, squirming toward the stairs.
“He won’t be ready for that for a long time,” Becky said loftily. “I can help Mammi take care of him.”
“Me, too,” Timothy cried.
Caleb swept them both up in a hug. “We’ll all help, ain’t so? And we’ll all thank God for this day.”
Thank You, Lord, Aaron murmured silently. He hadn’t done much praying in his recent life, and even those simple words came awkwardly, but he realized he meant them with all his heart.
* * *
“We’ll put a quart of that vegetable soup in the basket, too,” Elizabeth said. She’d started hustling around the kitchen the moment they’d returned and learned of the impending birth. “I wonder...” She glanced in the general direction of the King farm.
“When we take the food over, we’ll find out. It’s been over two hours since we got back with the midwife.”
Sally bent to take the shoofly pies out of the oven. Caleb would be glad of something ready for breakfast tomorrow, and Becky could take a piece in her lunch, as well.
She realized that Elizabeth was watching her, frowning. No doubt she was about to bring up the fact that Sally had gone with Aaron in search of the midwife.
“I wish you hadn’t gone alone with him. If you’d just given him the directions...”
“And if he’d failed to find the place?” Sally closed the oven door a bit more firmly than necessary. “With the baby on the way, I couldn’t have done anything else.”
“I don’t see what all the fuss was about,” Ben said. “Sally was just riding in a buggy with him. Any of us would have done the same, with the telephones out and all.”
Ben was oblivious of the emotional temperature, as usual, and for once Sally was glad of it. But she suspected that once Elizabeth got him alone, she’d give him an earful.
It was a shame Elizabeth was so busy about Sally’s business, but it couldn’t hurt her. She could just smile and let it wash over her. Still, she’d be relieved when Mamm and Daad got home.
Elizabeth touched the top of the steak and onion pie she’d made to be sure the dough was done. She turned with a satisfied air. “Everything is ready to pack, I think.”
“They’ll be sehr glad to see you coming with supper,” Ben told her. “Maybe you’ll get a look at the new boppli, too.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “Sally can take it over,” she said quickly.
“But don’t you...”
“That’s right,” Sally said quickly. Ben seemed to have no idea why Elizabeth might find it difficult to go to the King place right now, when they were doubtless rejoicing over a new member of the family.
Sally suppressed an urge to shake him. “I’ll be glad to take the basket over.” She picked up the basket, and her gaze caught Elizabeth’s. They shared an instant of understanding. Then she headed for the door, the loaded basket weighing heavily on her arm.
By the time she’d reached the King place, she’d shifted the basket from one arm to the other several times. She set it down on the porch long enough to rap once and then open the door, carrying the basket to the kitchen.
Here she found Leah in charge and the scent of baking in the air. “I might have known you would beat us here with food,” Sally said. “What’s the news?”
“It’s a boy!” Zeb, clearly elated, grasped her burden and took it to the counter. “A fine, healthy boy, and Jessie is fine, too, thank the gut Lord.”
“Ach, that’s wonderful gut. I’m sehr happy for all of you.”
Zeb nodded. “The Lord does work in mysterious ways, ain’t so? There were times I feared Caleb would never be happy again, and now...” He stopped, seeming overcome with emotion.
Sally pressed his arm in understanding. “God has blessed them,” she murmured. “Is Caleb up with Jessie?”
“He is.” Leah chuckled. “The last time I checked on them, he was sitting there watching them sleep.”
“Daniel took the midwife home. Aaron has the young ones helping with chores.” Zeb had recovered his usual calm. “And I have been trying to convince Leah that I can handle supper.”
“You may as well stop trying. Rebecca and her mamm are taking care of everything there, and you’re not getting rid of me until I’m satisfied you’re all settled for the night.” Leah was firm. “Besides, it smells like Sally has brought most of the supper with her, so it’s easily done. Unless you want to push me out the door...”
“Ach, I couldn’t do that, now could I?” Zeb took one of the shoofly pies from Sally’s basket and sniffed it appreciatively. “You can’t lock the doors and windows against kindness—it comes in anyway.”
“True enough,” Sally said, smiling at the thought. “Is there anything I can do?”
Leah’s gaze swept across the various containers on the countertop. “I think we’re fine for now with all this food. Denke, Sally. And be sure to thank Elizabeth for us, too.”
“I’ll be off, then,” Sally said. “Ben says he’ll be here for the morning milking. Remember to tell Jessie and Caleb we’re wonderful happy for them.”
She went out, the now-empty basket swinging from her arm. She wasn’t, she told herself firmly, upset that she hadn’t seen Aaron. That would be silly.
She started down the porch steps just as Aaron came around the large lilac bush at the corner, and her heart gave
a glad little leap.
Glancing at her basket, he grinned. “More food. I might have known.”
“I think you might,” she said, teasing to cover her feelings. “Can you think of an occasion which wouldn’t be helped by bringing food?”
“No, I guess I can’t. It’s kind of you, Sally.”
The softness of his glance was turning her to mush inside, and she hurriedly added, “Elizabeth, mostly. I had just started cooking when she and Ben got home, and she swept into action. She’s really taken over the kitchen since Mamm and Daad have been away.” So much so that sometimes the house felt as if it belonged to her and Ben, instead of being Sally’s home.
“Then thank her for us, as well.” He was standing very close, and his voice was soft.
“I... I will.” She made an effort to control her breath. “So I hear you have a new nephew.”
His face lit up. “I never saw such a beautiful baby. Jessie says he looks like Caleb, but I’m not so sure.”
“All babies are beautiful, don’t you know that?”
“Yes, but it’s true about him.” He grinned, and Sally’s heart seemed to give another shiver of pure joy.
Something was different about Aaron. It was almost, she thought, as if he’d found his place. Her breath caught. If that was true, if he really did think he belonged, then anything might happen. Anything, even for them.
* * *
Sally started to walk away, and Aaron realized that he didn’t want to let her go. His emotions had been turned upside down today with the worry over Jessie and the baby and the startling conversation he’d had with Caleb. So much had been happening that he hadn’t had time to figure it out yet.
But Sally... Sally had somehow seemed to understand his feelings about Caleb even before he did. She’d been the one to point out the thing he’d never taken into account—how young Caleb had been when he’d had to take responsibility for the family.
“Wait.”
Sally turned, eyebrows lifted in a question.
“I’ll carry your basket for you.” He took it from her before she had time to protest. Falling into step, they walked out the lane.
“I could have used you when the basket was filled,” she commented.
“Sorry I didn’t see you then.” He fell silent, not sure how to say what he wanted or even what it was. “You were right,” he said finally.
Sally gave him a blank look. “Right?”
“When I was sounding off about Caleb, you said that he’d had to take on a lot of responsibility before he was ready for it.” He paused, turning it over in his mind. “I didn’t see it at first.”
“I know.” Her voice was soft, and she seemed to listen intently.
“When our mother left, I was...what? Eight, I guess. I didn’t understand what had happened. I just knew that our whole lives had changed in a minute.”
“That would be shocking for a child, no matter when or how it happened.” Sally’s heart was in her eyes. “I imagine a child would feel as if it was his or her fault. And then hide that feeling, for fear of losing the people he had left.”
He nodded. Sally’s insight astonished him.
“Funny. Now that I think about it, I know I never talked about it to anyone. Daadi didn’t tell us anything. It was Caleb who finally told Daniel and me that Mammi had gone away and wasn’t coming back.”
He heard her sharp, indrawn breath.
“I know.” Aaron answered her reaction. “We didn’t believe him at first. I remember being so mad I threw my shoe at him. And Daniel ran to the bedroom and hid there.”
The memory flooded back...every instant of it. The smell of oatmeal burning on the stove where Caleb had tried to fix it. The cold, hard floor under his stocking feet. The harsh sound of Daniel’s sobs. He hadn’t consciously thought of it in years, but it was all there, just waiting to spring out and sink its claws into him.
“Surely someone came to help—the neighbors...” Sally’s voice died away when he shook his head.
“I guess no one knew at first. Daad just shut himself in the bedroom and locked the door.” He drew in a shaky breath. “Caleb did his best to take care of us until Onkel Zeb got here. Onkel Zeb...he made us feel safe. But I still never talked to him about it.”
“You couldn’t,” she said, her voice soft. Gentle. “It probably doesn’t help, but that’s the way it is with a lot of children when something very bad happens to their family. They can’t bring it up because they’re afraid that it’s their fault, or that if they speak, it will be worse. They need an adult to help them make sense of it.”
Aaron gathered his will to push the pain back behind its locked door. When he thought he had it secure, he was able to look at Sally. He studied her face—the warmth in her blue eyes, the caring in her expression.
“An adult like a teacher who cares?”
“Sometimes,” she said. “I’d never talk about it, but we often see the results of family trouble in school. At home, everyone’s so wrapped up in their own pain they sometimes don’t see each other’s.”
Her words moved through his mind and found acceptance there. Sally had it right. “That’s how it was with Daad. He just pulled into himself.” He was feeling his way, trying to understand. “Daniel couldn’t talk about it... I guess he blamed himself, like you said. And Caleb... Caleb felt he had to take on a man’s responsibility when he was just a boy.”
It was all becoming so clear to him now. Sally...she was the one who’d helped him see it. If he hadn’t come home, he might never have realized the truth. He’d have gone on blaming everyone else for the breakup of their family and shutting himself away from them.
But he had come back, unwilling, forced into it. Maybe that had all been part of God’s plan for him.
Sally was patient, giving him time to think it through without questioning. He managed a wry smile, and her troubled face relaxed.
“It’s not easy to look at a child’s traumatic event like an adult.” Her lips curved a little. “You seem to have come a long way.”
“No thanks to myself.” His voice was rueful. “I had plenty of help. Like you.”
Sally shook her head. “I just listened, that’s all. You were ready to talk today.”
“Yah, and you know why? Because today of all days I got angry with Caleb. I thought he didn’t want me to help out. I thought he didn’t trust me, didn’t want me back. Turned out he was afraid of pushing me into running away again.”
They’d reached the end of the lane, and he paused by the fence post. “Strange. I was looking at everything upside down.”
“Maybe you were a bit too sensitive,” Sally suggested. “Afraid to believe that they wanted you back. Thinking it was too easy.”
“Maybe. And maybe you understand people entirely too well to be comfortable.” He’d probably regret showing so much of himself to Sally, but not yet.
She studied his face, smiling a little. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Aaron?”
“On the contrary. It’s too easy to talk to you. Makes me say things I’ve never said to a living soul.” He tried to say it lightly, but it was true.
She reached out to take her basket, their fingers touching, clinging just for a moment. “You were ready to say them. I just happened to be in the right place, that’s all.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you were the one person I could say all this to.” Gratitude swept through him. “Whichever way it was, thank you, Sally. I’m glad to have all of that out, thanks to you.”
Her lips quirked with sudden amusement. “You make me sound like a medicine. But I’m glad the medicine helped.” With a quick lift of her hand, she was gone.
Aaron stood there, watching her walk away from him, thinking how unexpected it all was. He hadn’t even thought of Sally when he’d headed for home, but she’d turned out to be the most important part of his
homecoming.
Chapter Eight
Sally had to smile at Becky’s chatter as they walked home from school on Monday. She was still so excited about her new baby brother that words just bubbled out of her.
“And he woke up in the nighttime, ’cause I heard him crying. Daadi said he was just hungry.”
“I’m sure that’s true. The boppli’s tummy is so small that he needs to eat more often than you do.”
Becky nodded, skipping along a little faster. “I wish I got to stay home today like Timothy did. But Mammi said maybe I could help hold the boppli when I got home.”
“That will be exciting.”
Had Aaron held his little nephew yet? Her mind returned, as it did so frequently, to Aaron. Bachelors were sometimes reluctant to try, and she’d guess he’d never been around a newborn before.
She ought to put a stop to her tendency to hear his voice in her thoughts...to see his face the way it had looked when he’d confided in her. But she didn’t think she could. And besides, what difference did it make? No one, including Aaron, could guess he dominated her thoughts these days.
“They decided on his name, too.”
Sally forcibly removed her errant thoughts from Aaron and brought them back to the infant. She tried to focus on Becky’s animated face. Each child deserved that kind of attention from her. “So what is it to be? Caleb, after his daadi?”
“Daadi said no. He’ll be William, after Mammi’s daadi, and Zebulon, after Onkel Zeb.” Becky took a few skipping steps. “But we’re going to call him Will.”
“That sounds like a fine idea. William Zebulon is quite a mouthful for a little baby.”
Not Aaron for a name, of course. A brother came farther down on the list of kin to give their name to a new baby.
Frustrated, she realized she was right back to thinking of him. But really, how could she fail to muse about what he’d confided yesterday? He’d said things she didn’t imagine he’d said to anyone else.
And he’d felt a sense of relief and release when he’d spoken. She’d known it at once, as if she shared his inner thoughts. Hope blossomed within her. Maybe, with his tension and pain about the past eased, Aaron would think seriously about staying.