Steadfast Mercy

by Ruth Reid

  Chapter 6

  Jonica dodged sputtering bacon grease as she flipped the eggs in the cast-iron pan. She gave them a minute longer to cook, then slid the pan to a cooler area of the woodstove to keep the food warm while she sliced the bread.

  Aenti Edna walked into the kitchen and stopped abruptly, putting her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”

  “Making breakfast. I hope you’re hungahrich.” She removed a mug from the cabinet. “Do you still like sugar in your kaffi?”

  The wrinkles across Edna’s forehead deepened, and her face pinched as though straining to think. She looked at Jonica with a stare that went straight through her.

  “Aenti, is everything okay?”

  “Of course it is.” Her aunt’s shoulders straightened. “Why do you ask?”

  Jonica shook her head. “Nay reason.” She had heard that people with memory issues were often easily frustrated, and she didn’t want to upset her aunt further. Jonica motioned to the table. “Why don’t you take a seat. I’ll bring your breakfast and kaffi to the table.”

  Edna lumbered over to a chair. “I like mei kaffi sweet.”

  “Jah, I thought so.” Jonica filled a mug with coffee, but instead of guessing the amount of sugar to add, she set the sugar bowl and a spoon on the table in front of her aunt.

  “Danki. Where’s the bu?”

  “Stephen is still in bed.” Jonica plated the eggs and bacon.

  “You’ve got a faul one on your hands.”

  Jonica’s spine stiffened. Her son wasn’t lazy—he was tired. But she resisted the urge to correct her aunt.

  Edna took a sip of coffee, her face puckering as she swallowed hard. “This isn’t sweet.”

  “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure how much sugar to add.” Jonica reached for the spoon inside the sugar bowl. “How much would you like?”

  “I can do it myself. I’m nett a kind.”

  “Of course you’re nett,” Jonica said, though her aunt’s behavior suggested she wasn’t acting her age, or maybe this childlike conduct was a facet of aging. She’d heard that some people with memory issues often reverted back to their childhood, which Edna had clearly demonstrated yesterday when she pointed her finger at Jonica and threatened to tell their parents if she didn’t do the dishes. Even so, what happened to Aenti’s sweet nature? Was this change in personality another facet of her aging brain?

  Jonica handed Aenti Edna the spoon, then stood. “I’m going to check on Stephen.”

  Aenti’s empty stare told Jonica she was trying to piece together who Stephen was, but this time Jonica knew better than to ask if she was all right. “I’m going to check on mei sohn. I’ll be right back,” she said, reassuringly.

  When Jonica entered the bedroom, Stephen was standing at the window with his shirt untucked and only one clip of his suspenders attached to the waistband of his pants. “What are you looking at, sweetie?”

  “A man.” He turned away from the window.

  Jonica removed a pair of socks from the dresser. “Have a seat.”

  Stephen plopped down on the bed. “Can I geh outside and play?”

  “You know Caleb is working in the field, right?”

  “Like Daadi.”

  Jonica nodded, even though her father wasn’t a wheat farmer. He planted trees that would one day be sold for lumber. But Stephen needed to understand that he couldn’t disturb Caleb. “Like Daadi.” She slipped the sock onto his left foot. “Caleb is very busy. He can’t have you running around the field while he’s trying to work.”

  “Okay, but can I still geh outside and play?”

  “We’ll talk about it after you’ve eaten breakfast.” She put his other sock on, then tucked in his shirt and fastened his suspenders. Taking him by the hand, she led him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “Guder mariye, Aenti Edna,” Stephen said as he climbed onto the chair.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Jah.” Stephen picked up his fork.

  “Glad to hear.” Aenti lifted her mug. “This kaffi tastes like syrup.”

  Jonica picked up the sugar bowl. Empty. No wonder it tasted so sweet. There had to have been a quarter cup of sugar in that container. “I’ll pour you a fresh mug.” She refilled the sugar bowl, but this time she added the sweetener herself to the new mug. “Hopefully this one is better.”

  Edna sampled the drink, then set the mug on the table. “This is just how I like it, danki.”

  “I’m glad.” Jonica would be sure to do the measuring for her next time.

  Stephen dragged a piece of bread over his plate, soaking up the last of the egg yolk. Jonica was pleased his appetite had returned and she didn’t have to plead with him once.

  “Done.” Stephen set his empty milk glass on the table with a thump. “Can I geh outside nau?”

  “I’ll take you outside as soon as we reddy-up the kitchen.” She motioned to the dirty dishes. “Can you help clear the table, please?”

  Stephen nodded enthusiastically and started collecting the utensils.

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll lie down a bit.” Edna pushed off the chair. “I think I’ve eaten too much.” She ambled out of the room, rubbing her stomach.

  “That much sugar would give anyone a bellyache,” Jonica muttered. She stacked the dirty plates and carried them to the sink, while Stephen brought over a fistful of silverware he dropped into the basin. Jonica drizzled dish soap over the dishes as Stephen pushed one of the kitchen chairs over to the sink.

  “Wait.” She stopped him from climbing onto the chair. “Let me pour the hot water first.” Using pot holders to pick up the steaming pot of water she’d left on the stove to heat while they ate, she eased it over to the sink, made sure Stephen wasn’t within splash range, then dumped it over the dishes. “Okay, you can climb up.”

  She washed the plates first, dipping each one into the rinse water, then staggered them on a towel-lined counter to cool. Stephen waited, towel in hand, for her okay to rub them dry. The cups and silverware were next.

  Stephen leaned closer to the sink and peered into the basin. “Are we done?”

  “Almost. You can put the chair back, then geh put your boots on while I finish up.” The cast-iron skillet was no longer hot, but she didn’t want Stephen in the way when she emptied the bacon grease into the container to be rendered. Otherwise she might have a mess on her hands.

  He pushed the chair back to the table, making a high-pitched scraping sound on the floor as he went. Stephen ran full speed out of the room and seconds later riffled through the shoes at the front door.

  Jonica wiped the seasoned cast-iron skillet clean with the dishrag, gave it a quick rinse, then placed it back on the stove to heat dry. As she removed her apron, the front door opened.

  “Ich geh outside nau, bye.”

  Jonica raced to the front door but couldn’t catch Stephen before he darted outside. She opened the door. “Stephen, kumm back inside and put your coat on.”

  “I’m nett kalt.” He hid behind the large maple. “Find me.”

  “Stephen Muller, if I have to tell you again . . .”

  “Here I am.” He ran back to the house, rosy cheeked and teeth chattering.

  “Why did you go outside when I told you to wait, and without your coat?” She had half a mind to face him in the corner, giving him opportunity to reflect on his actions.

  Stephen bowed his head. “Sorry.”

  A lesson learned without consequences? At least he appeared sincere. Perhaps the scolding had been sufficient. Jonica motioned to the house. “Geh inside.”

  This time Stephen didn’t run the opposite direction but listened to her instruction. He paused on the landing of the steps. “I’m really sorry, Mamm.”

  “It’s very important that you listen to what I tell you.”

  “Okay, I promise I will.” His bottom lip trembled.

  As she held the door open for Stephen, a discussion she had with Ephraim over parenting came to mind. �
��It’s nett gut to be too easy on him all the time,” Ephraim warned. “Children learn by correction and consequences, and lack of discipline will nett teach them anything.”

  Jonica pushed the memory to the back of her mind. If Ephraim were here, he would have plenty to say about her allowing this playtime when there were chores to do, but a growing boy needed fresh air and exercise, and so did she. After all, life wasn’t all about work. Besides, Stephen didn’t have other children to play with, she reasoned, helping her son into his coat. She wrapped a knitted scarf around his neck and pulled his hat down over his ears.

  Guilt needled her as she put her own cloak and scarf on, but she dismissed the thoughts. Aenti’s house hadn’t been deep cleaned in years, so putting it off a little while longer wouldn’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things. “Ready?”

  Stephen nodded.

  Once they were back outside, they chased each other around the yard, playing tag until they were both breathless, until they needed a short break. Jonica found a leaf rake in the shed, and just as her daed had done when she was growing up, she raked the leaves into large piles for Stephen to jump in. He tossed leaves in the air and tried to catch them as they fluttered to the ground. His ringing laughter warmed Jonica’s heart.

  She leaned the rake against the porch banister, then joined him in the pile, gathering an armful of leaves and flinging them as high as she could. She pulled Stephen into a hug and fell backward into the pile, both of them giggling. No longer strapped with guilt because she’d left the dusting undone, Jonica knew these moments were meant to be treasured.

  A loud crash coming from the house drew her attention and she pushed off the ground. “I need to check on Aenti Edna. I’ll be right back.”

  Jonica found Edna kneeling on the kitchen floor picking up pieces of glass. She squatted next to her aunt and helped to clean up the mess.

  “I dropped the dish I was going to use to make egg salad. I need to prepare lunch before everyone arrives.”

  Everyone in an Amish district usually meant someone was hosting Sunday service and the meal following, but this wasn’t Sunday. Jonica sucked in a breath. What if Edna had arranged for a few of the women to come for a visit? Lord, I’m nett ready to be interrogated. She glanced at the wall clock. Noon. If people were invited, they would be arriving soon. “Are you expecting a large group for lunch, Aenti?”

  Her aunt continued combing the floor for small pieces of glass as if she hadn’t heard the question.

  Instead of asking again, Jonica pushed off the floor. “I’ll clean the rest up with the broom.” She grabbed the broom and dustpan from the closet and swept up the glass fragments. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Edna climbing onto the chair that was next to the dish cabinet. “Ach, Aenti.” Jonica paused to calm her voice. “I could use your help watching over Stephen. Would you mind checking on him for me? He’s outside playing in the leaves.”

  “Sure.” Edna wobbled as she climbed down from the chair. She wasn’t always stable standing on the floor much less on a chair. Tasked with something new, she ambled out of the room.

  Jonica swept the broken glass into the dustpan, then emptied it in the trash container. If she hurried, she could have lunch prepared by the time Stephen and Edna came back inside. Edna had mentioned making egg salad, but she must not have realized the last of the eggs had been used for breakfast.

  Jonica went down to the basement, searched shelves full of canned goods, and selected enough jars of stewed tomatoes to make a large batch of goulash and cornbread, even though something told her nobody was invited and they would be eating leftovers for the next several meals.

  As Jonica popped the seal on the first jar, she glanced out the window and spotted Stephen sitting on the top rail of the horse corral, talking to a redheaded Englischer pointing out something in the pasture. Jonica pulled the pot off the stove, then fled the house, lunch forgotten.

  “Stephen.” Panic laced her tone. Not waiting for him to answer, she sped across the yard and slipped between the fence rails. “Stephen,” she repeated in a more controlled tone. “It’s time to kumm inside.”

  “We’re surveying the land.” Stephen gazed up at the forty-something man standing beside him and smiled. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Jordan?”

  “It’s certainly a substantial piece of property to take in.” The man’s shoulders raised as he drew in a breath, filling out his chest cavity. Releasing the air from his lungs, his amber eyes bored into hers. “And don’t you just love the scent of the leaves this time of year?”

  “Jah, autumn is—” A chill juddered along her spine. Had the stranger been spying on her and Stephen when they were playing in the leaves earlier? Jonica redirected her attention to her son. “We should geh inside.” Where was Aenti? She scanned the yard, the porch, the corral without success. Had Aenti wandered into the barn or maybe down the road?

  “Edna went inside,” the redheaded man said as if reading her mind. “She was eager to get lunch ready.”

  A shiver cascaded down Jonica’s spine at the thought of her aunt leaving Stephen in the yard alone with this stranger.

  “Edna went in the back door about the same time you were coming out the front.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “You must be Jonica.”

  Despite the man’s gentle demeanor, she placed a protective arm around Stephen’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “How do you know mei name?”

  “Edna mentioned you were coming for a visit.” His gaze connected with something beyond Jonica, filling his face with a smile. “Here she comes now.”

  Jonica turned to find her aunt ambling toward them.

  “Here you are,” Aenti wheezed. “I went inside . . .” She came up beside them, hand on her chest, lips pursed, and taking short, laborious breaths.

  Jonica placed her hand on her aunt’s bony back. “You’re looking a little washed out, Aenti Edna. Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” She took a moment to catch her breath. “Mr. Jordan, I see you’ve met Jonica, mei niece and Stephen’s mamm.” Aenti turned to Jonica. “Mr. Jordan’s a handy man to have around.”

  “I started to introduce myself a moment ago. It’s nice to meet you, Jonica.”

  This time when the man extended his hand, she had no choice but to shake it. Too soft for a handyman. “It’s nice to meet you too.” Jonica shifted her attention to her aunt. “We should get back inside. I need to check on the cornbread in the oven.”

  “Ach, we can’t let the cornbread burn.”

  The bread wasn’t at risk of burning. It still had plenty of time. But Jonica used the opportunity to grasp Stephen’s hand and direct him and Aenti back to the house.

  Aenti stopped after taking a few steps and glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Jordan. You’re still planning to join us for lunch, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t miss some of your cornbread, Edna.”

  Jonica swallowed a gasp. Aenti had mentioned she’d invited guests for lunch, but an Englischer? Jonica decided it best to wait until she and her aunt were alone to approach the topic. Once inside, she helped Stephen out of his coat, hat, and boots, then sent him into the sitting room to play until the meal was ready. She followed Edna into the kitchen. “I’m nett sure inviting a stranger to eat with us was wise.”

  “Mr. Jordan is nett a stranger. You met him.”

  “He’s an Englischer.” Jonica lifted her brows to stress the point.

  “Well, I know that.” Edna chuckled. “I haven’t lost mei mind completely.”

  Not completely, but what was to stop her aunt from making riskier decisions? Sharing meals with Englischers was frowned upon in most Amish districts, and Posen was no different. The bishop and elders would have something to say about that situation.

  Jonica checked the cornbread. Just as she expected, it wasn’t ready. She had time—time enough to enlist help. She untied, then removed her apron but was slow to loop it over the wall hook. Asking Caleb to join them for lunch could
open a can of worms. Stephen had already taken a liking to him, and sharing a meal with a Schulmann went against every fiber within her. Still, the greater risk—Edna’s thought process wasn’t as keen as it once had been—was that she’d invited an Englischer to eat with them.

  Jonica had no choice but to elicit Caleb’s help. “Will you make sure Stephen stays in the haus? I have something urgent I need to do.”

  * * *

  Caleb set his sight on the large oak at the top of the hill and urged Anchor to keep the steady pace. A scattering of dark clouds had moved in front of the sun, dropping the temperature a few degrees. The freezing rain mixed with snow forecasted for later in the week might just make an appearance today, making this year’s almanac prediction of an early frost accurate.

  The weather had been the topic of the men’s conversation on Sunday. And while the other men were concerned if they had adequate wood supplies to last a long winter and with covering the windows with plastic wind barriers to block the cold draft, Caleb was preoccupied with the crop he hadn’t finished planting and weighing the risk of seed gone to waste. If it was permissible, he would have skipped the after-service meal to work in the field, but working on Sundays, beyond milking cows and feeding livestock, wasn’t allowed.

  “Let’s go, Anchor.” Caleb tapped the reins as they started up the hilly incline. He couldn’t lose his seed investment and give his father yet another reason to be disappointed in him.

  His stomach rumbled, a nagging reminder that the biscuit he’d smothered with blackberry jam for breakfast hadn’t held him over. The equipment chains rattled with Anchor’s jerking uphill stride. “Gut bu, Anchor. Almost there.” He pushed the gelding hard in order to maintain a steady pace. Stop-and-go on an uphill climb was always more strenuous.

  At the top of the hill, Caleb pulled back on the reins. No matter how much he needed to get the fields planted, he needed to keep his horse healthy even more. This was a good place to rest Anchor and to satisfy his stomach with a bite to eat. He tied the gelding to a low-hanging limb, then plopped down, resting his back against the tree trunk. He removed the thermos of coffee from the haversack, filled the cup lid with the steaming brew, and inhaled the pungent aroma. As he peeled back the tinfoil wrapping from his peanut butter sandwich, he spotted Jonica tramping through the field toward him.