by Ruth Reid
She wrung her hands. Would Aenti be welcoming? Her letter was somewhat vague. Over the years she had stayed in contact with Jonica’s parents but had never written directly to Jonica. Did her aunt still blame her for her parents’ decision to move?
Lord, I don’t know if I can sign over the haus where I grew up—where mei daed grew up. She wept uncontrollably as if she were inside a pressure cooker and everything bottled up inside had exploded. Thankfully, Stephen didn’t wake up.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”
Caleb’s tenderhearted tone made her cry even harder.
He pulled back on the reins and stopped the buggy on the shoulder of the road. “Is there anything I can do?”
Jonica shook her head. A few deep breaths later, she steeled her thoughts. “I don’t normally cry so easily.” She blotted her face. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s understandable. You recently lost your parents. I’m sure coming back to Posen, seeing old friends and family—well, I’m sure it will stir up memories gut and bad.”
Jonica squeezed her son tighter. More than you know, Caleb.
* * *
Caleb wasn’t sure how much silence Jonica needed to compose herself. Her unbridled sobs hit a raw nerve. It didn’t make sense why she and the boy were traveling alone. Where was her husband? Leave it alone. It’s nett your concern.
He cleared his throat. “Edna will be happy to see you.”
She sniffled. “I’m looking forward to spending time with her as well.”
Hearing the quiver in Jonica’s voice, he wished he hadn’t mentioned her parents. He’d merely wanted to extend his sympathies, not trigger a meltdown. It wasn’t his place to comfort another man’s wife.
A car zipped past, generating a gust of wind that rocked the buggy. The reins slipped through Caleb’s hand as Nutmeg unexpectedly lurched forward. “Whoa, girl.” He gripped the leather straps and pulled back, stopping the mare. He set the brake. “She still gets nervous on the main road.”
The boy pushed the blanket away from his face and sat up taller, stretching his neck. “Where are we?”
“We’re almost to your aenti Edna’s,” Caleb said.
“What’s your name?”
Jonica pressed the child to her side. “Leave him be and let him drive.”
“But all I wanted to know was—”
She leaned down so her mouth was close to the child’s ear. “What have I told you about talking to strangers?”
The boy murmured something undecipherable to his mother, then with his head still bowed, he lifted his gaze to meet Caleb’s.
“You can give the signal to your horse nau to continue the journey.”
Puzzled by her urgency, Caleb continued to hold back the mare. True, he’d never met the boy before today, but he and Jonica weren’t exactly strangers.
She leveled Caleb with a stare that seemed to go much deeper than surface annoyance, but he could sit here all day and not be able to figure her out. Lately it seemed all the women he knew, including Darleen, his longtime maedel, and his mother, had emotional swings that left him not knowing when to duck and run.
Caleb sighed. He did have winter wheat to plant. Still, he didn’t want her in tears when they arrived at Edna’s. “You sure? I don’t want to rush you.”
“I’m sure.” She tucked the child under the blanket, then shifted on the bench to look out the side window.
Caleb clicked his tongue and Nutmeg lunged forward. “How long do you plan on staying in Posen?”
“Long enough to get the paperwork for the farm transferred from mei daed’s name.” Her voice strained. “In order for the county records office to make the necessary changes, I have to provide a copy of his death certificate.”
Puffiness surrounded her downcast eyes and from his side view, the corners of her lips seemed to be trembling. He shouldn’t press her for information now, but he had questions about the property that directly affected him. “At the risk of sounding insensitive . . . what are you going to do with the property? I ask because I’ve been farming the land, and if you and your husband plan to move here—”
“I’m nett moving back,” she said with more force behind her words than he’d heard since picking the two of them up.
If she wasn’t moving back to Posen . . . “So, you’re selling the farm?”
“I’m nett, but Aenti is. According to the letter I received.”
“Selling to whom?”
Jonica shrugged.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen Edna? I only ask because you might nett be aware that her mind is . . . slipping. I think senility is setting in.”
Jonica’s brows narrowed. “She sounded perfectly sane in the letter I received.”
“Edna didn’t remember you were arriving today. I was sent to Rogers City for a package. She couldn’t remember any of the details. Only that she’d marked Arrival on the calendar.”
Jonica pulled the cover higher up on the boy’s neck. “A little forgetfulness is understandable for someone in her eighties.”
“Edna’s more than a little forgetful.” He nodded, though she didn’t appear persuaded. “I guess you’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
“Jah, I suppose I will.”
A few minutes later he turned into Edna’s driveway and stopped Nutmeg near the back door.
Jonica gathered the sleeping child into her arms. “We’re here, Stephen.”
“Hold on and I’ll get the door for you.” Caleb jumped out, hurried around the buggy, and opened the passenger door. Bundled in Jonica’s wool coat, the rosy-cheeked boy wasn’t much larger than a sack of grain, while at the same time he appeared cumbersome for her to hold. “Would you like me to carry him?”
“Nay, danki. I can manage.” She proceeded up the porch steps.
Edna opened the door. “You made it.”
“It’s gut to see you, Aenti Edna.” Jonica gave her aunt a one-arm hug.
Caleb grabbed the two boxes from the back of the buggy. For someone not planning to stay long, she packed heavy. He hiked up the porch steps, then paused as the two women continued their greetings in front of the door.
“It’s so nice of you to kumm for a visit.” Edna lifted the cloak away from Stephen’s face. “Nau who is this?”
The child lifted his head off his mother’s shoulder, eyed Edna, then flicked his gaze over to Caleb with weary blue eyes that matched Jonica’s. His lips puckered like he might cry, but then he shoved his thumb in his mouth and laid his head back on his mother’s shoulder.
“This is mei sohn, Stephen.” Jonica pivoted slightly to give Edna a better view of the boy. “He’s shy.”
Edna leaned forward and pushed a stray lock of hair away from Stephen’s forehead. “He’s a fine-looking kind.” She stared blankly a long moment, then stepped back. “He’s much too old to be still sucking his thumb. A mixture of ginger and clove will cure that problem.”
Edna was known in the district for giving new mothers advice, even though she had never had children of her own. The older woman’s unsought opinions didn’t seem to sit well with Jonica. Her jaw appeared set and her lips formed a thin, straight line. She needed saving before Edna lectured more on the subject.
“Ahem.” Caleb looked down at the boxes, then back up at them and grinned.
“Ach,” Edna rasped. “What are we still doing on the porch? Let’s geh in the haus.” She opened the door and waved them into the two-story house.
Jonica took a few steps inside and lowered Stephen to the floor. Her gaze danced around the room as if taking in every nook and cranny. Within seconds, her eyes dulled with haunting sadness. Distracted by seemingly painful family memories, she didn’t appear to notice that Stephen had removed her wool cloak and left it in a heap on the floor.
Caleb leaned toward Jonica and whispered, “You okay?”
“Jah, why?”
Because you’re about to cry again. He’d seen that same lame
nting expression on his mother’s face when she thought no one was watching. “Where would you like me to put your belongings?”
“Anywhere is fine,” Jonica said without looking his direction.
Jonica pointed to the floor. “Is that where the cloak belongs?”
“Nay.” Stephen hung his head. “Sorry.”
“Pick it up, sweetie.”
Stephen grabbed the cloak and handed it to his mother, who hung it on the wall hook.
“Kumm with me, young man,” Edna said. “We’ll see if there are any treats in the kichlin jar.” She ambled toward the kitchen.
Stephen took hold of Jonica’s hand and tugged.
They started to follow Edna, but Jonica stopped when she reached the archway between the sitting room and kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder. “Danki for the ride, Caleb.”
“Anytime.” He wasn’t sure if it was her somber expression or her piercing blue eyes that twisted his insides. Motherhood had changed her. She wasn’t the same giggly maedel he remembered.
Edna doubled back into the room, scratching her head as though perplexed.
“Is something wrong, Aenti?”
“I don’t . . . think so.” Edna stared blankly a moment, then shrugged. “I guess nett.” Her attention shifted to Caleb still standing at the front door. “Would you like to stay for kaffi, Caleb?”
“Ah . . .” His gaze moved beyond Edna to the sleepy-eyed boy holding Jonica’s hand. “Nay.” Caleb pushed his hat lower on his head. “I have fields to tend.” He went outside and was halfway to the barn when the screen door creaked open.
“Caleb.” Jonica hurried down the porch steps, his coat in hand. “You’ll need this.” She held out the garment. “Danki for letting me wear it.”
“Jah, nay problem.”
The screen door snapped and Stephen came running toward them. “Don’t leave me!”
Jonica scooped Stephen into her arms. “I’m nett going to leave you, sweetie.” She hugged him close and whispered, “I promise.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Nay kichlin in the jar.”
“I’ll make cookies later if Aenti has all the ingredients.”
Stephen wrapped his arms around her neck in a hug, then peered over at Caleb. “Are you a stranger?”
Caleb glanced at Jonica. No daggers pierced him from her eyes. He smiled at the boy. “I hope nett for long. Mei name is Caleb Schulmann, and let me guess what your name is.” He touched his index finger to his forehead, pretending to think about the answer. “Is your name Matthew?”
The child grinned and shook his head.
“Mark?”
Another head shake.
“Luke? John?”
He laughed. “Nay, I’m Stephen Muller.”
“Ach, silly me. Stephen is a fine name.” The boy had his mother’s family name, which meant she either married one of her cousins with the same last name or . . . Caleb gulped.
“I know how to spell mei name: S-t-e—” His letters ran together and he stopped long enough to take another gaspy breath before he spelled his last name. The child lifted his gaze to his mother. “I did it. Right, Mamm?”
Color drained from Jonica’s complexion. “You don’t have a coat on, Stephen. We need to get you back inside.” She hurried back to the house, holding Stephen in her arms. At the top of the porch steps, Stephen shot Caleb a quick wave over her shoulder.
Caleb lifted his hand in return, but they had already disappeared inside. He stared at the house. The way her face blanched, she must think Caleb stood, shovel in hand, ready to dig up old skeletons. But that wasn’t his nature. Old bones should stay buried.
He donned the coat, breathing in a pungent aroma of tea tree oil that would probably stay with him all day. Caleb tromped toward the field. Good thing he hadn’t planned to visit Darleen. She had a jealous streak a mile wide and would sniff out another woman’s scent on him in an instant.
Chapter 3
Jonica’s stomach roiled. She’d spent numerous hours working with Stephen so when school started next fall, he would be able to spell his full name, and until today, he hadn’t given her any indication that he’d retained anything from her teaching.
She squeezed her eyes closed in an attempt to blot Caleb’s thunderstruck image from her mind, but to no avail. Her secret was out. Her beloved child hadn’t been given his father’s surname—he’d been conceived out of wedlock, born to a wayward teenager.
“I know how to spell mei whole name nau, Mamm.” Stephen pulled her back to the only thing that mattered—her son.
Inwardly, she beamed with pride while outwardly, she practiced meekness and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. “That’s wunderbaar, sweetie.”
“I geh tell Aenti Edna.” Stephen squirmed, then once she put him down, he ran full speed into the kitchen bursting with excitement. “Aenti, I can spell mei name!”
Jonica leaned against the front door and took a few cleansing breaths as she listened to Stephen spell his name for Aenti Edna in the kitchen. Guilt leached from Jonica’s conscience. While she had spent numerous hours fretting over her son’s lack of progress, God had Stephen in His hand the entire time.
“Lord, forgive me. I haven’t prayed much since my parents’ deaths. Nett like I should. But this prayer is for Stephen. Nau that he’s excited about spelling his full name, I’m worried what others in the district will say. What price will Stephen have to pay for mei time of rebellion? For his daed’s lack of interest. He’s an innocent boy, Lord. Will You please make a way for me to quickly do what needs to be done with the paperwork, so we can leave?”
Tarnished with shame, she stressed over what Caleb Schulmann thought about her past, even though she didn’t need his or anyone else’s forgiveness. She’d humbled herself before God in repentance long ago, and according to His word, she’d been forgiven.
Jonica stood still with her eyes closed, soaking in the quiet moment. A verse in 1 John, reminding her of God’s grace, came to mind. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”
Years ago, her mother had been the one to point out the scripture to Jonica and encourage her to put to memory what God had promised. “Take Him at His word,” Mamm told her. “God is faithful. He will forgive, and He alone purifies.”
Tension eased from her body—until Edna’s sharp tone came from the kitchen and Jonica opened her eyes.
“You there,” Edna repeated. “Kind, are you listening?”
Jonica pushed off the door and rushed into the kitchen, where she found Stephen standing on a kitchen chair looking out the window and Edna scowling a few feet away with her hands on her hips.
“What’s wrong, Aenti?”
Edna paced to the far end of the kitchen and hovered in the corner. “He’s going to get hurt. Please, get him down.”
Taken aback by the tremble in her aunt’s voice, Jonica wanted to reassure her that Stephen had been climbing and standing on chairs since he was old enough to walk, but instead, she plucked Stephen off the chair and placed him on the floor. “Aenti isn’t used to having a kind in the haus. I need you to remember your manners.”
“Danki.” Aenti exhaled, holding her hand to her chest. “I was worried he might fall.”
Jonica wrapped her arm around Edna’s shoulder. “Do you remember when I used to stand on the chair at the sink and help you and Mamm rinse vegetables from the garden?”
Edna smiled. “I don’t always remember everything, but I do seem to recall how determined you were as a child to help your mamm and me in the kitchen.” She patted Jonica’s back. “It’s so nice to have you home again. It hasn’t been the same around here since . . .”
Jonica couldn’t decipher her aunt’s sudden loss for words or the older woman’s blank expression. Had Aenti’s thoughts drifted back to when her parents announced their decision to move up north? Edna had voiced her disapproval at the time, her words harsh and shrouding Jonica with shame. She h
ad already lathered herself in guilt. As the only child—a late-in-life miracle child—her parents had been determined to shelter her reputation the only way they knew how—start fresh somewhere new.
Stephen pushed the curtains to the side and continued to stare out the window. “He’s nett a stranger, is he?”
Her son was right. Caleb Schulmann was no stranger—he was the boy’s onkel. But that didn’t mean the man could be Stephen’s newfound friend. Jonica came up behind Stephen and placed her hand on his shoulder. She spied Caleb out the window, working the field with his coat high on his neck and his hat pulled down low. Hopefully he wouldn’t be around the farm after the first frost.
Stephen peered up at her. “Can I geh outside?”
“Maybe later.” If Stephen went outside now, he would go straight to the field and pester Caleb. She took a deep breath and let out a slow exhale, wishing she could release some of the tension knotting her muscles. Jonica gave Stephen’s shoulder a nudge, then she turned him away from the window. “Why don’t you and Aenti visit in the sitting room while I search for something to make for lunch?”
Stephen protruded his bottom lip, testing her resolve. But before she had a chance to scold his defiant behavior, he whirled around with a sudden burst of energy and ran into the sitting room.
“Oh dear.” Aenti shuffled toward the kitchen entrance. “I better make sure he doesn’t jump on the couch cushions. That young man has a lot of energy.”
Jonica cringed. “Sorry.”
Aenti chuckled. “These old walls haven’t echoed with the sound of youngsters in a long time.”
“Hold that thought.” Please. Jonica prayed the moment her aunt left the room. “Lord, Your Word says to be anxious about nothing, but we’ve only been here a couple of hours and I’m worried Stephen’s overzealousness will, all too soon, get under Edna’s skin. I want this time together to be moments for us to treasure.” Aenti Edna was the only family she and Stephen had.