by Ruth Reid
“I promised, didn’t I?”
Stephen smiled, then closed his eyes.
Jonica rushed out of the room, then sank against the hallway wall. She buried her face in her hands. What if something was wrong with Stephen? What if she lost him too? There’d be no reason to live. None.
She glanced up as Caleb slipped out of the bedroom. He squatted beside her, his strength soothing her in ways too familiar of his brother.
“I know the next couple of days will be hard to get through, but that bu is going to need you to be strong.”
“You’re right.” Jonica pushed off the floor. “I’m all Stephen has.” That reality had sunk in at her parents’ funerals. They only had each other. She took a deep breath. “We’ll get through this.” Alone.
“Supper,” Aenti called from downstairs.
“Coming.” Jonica headed toward the staircase. Not that she was hungry, but she needed distance from Caleb, from finding comfort from a Schulmann.
Caleb trailed down the steps behind her, but he stopped near the front door. “I’ll help any way I can.”
She opened her mouth to thank him, but Aenti Edna’s footsteps behind her caused her to turn and greet her aunt with a forced smile.
Aenti dried her hands on her apron. “Did Stephen need stitches?”
“Just a few,” Jonica said.
“Poor kind. He shouldn’t have tried cutting his own piece of cornbread.” She ambled toward the kitchen, mumbling something about being hungry.
“I meant what I said about helping you.” Caleb brushed his cheek with his shoulder, and when he looked at her with red-rimmed eyes, she believed him.
“Can I speak with you in private? Outside,” she said, opening the door. Nerves tightened her throat, but she would persevere and say what should’ve been said long before now.
“What do you want to talk about?” Caleb asked once they were on the porch.
Aenti’s hearing wasn’t the keenest, but Jonica didn’t want to take a chance talking on the porch. She moved to the driveway before she replied. “I don’t want anyone to know about Stephen’s condition. Nett Aenti—nett . . . your family—nett anyone in the district.”
“May I ask why? We all support each other, and you need—”
“What I need is your promise that you won’t say anything.” She lowered her head, unable to look him in the eyes, and pushed a stone around with the tip of her shoe. When he didn’t say anything immediately, she continued. “I came back to Posen with the sole intention of doing whatever paperwork mei aenti needed and leaving before anyone found out I was in town.”
“Why?” Caleb shifted his stance. “What—or who—are you hiding from?”
* * *
Caleb studied her a moment. The unyielding glare in her eyes hid fear. If he was going to keep Jonica’s secrets, he should at least know what she was hiding.
“People have too much to say in this district,” Jonica finally volunteered. “I don’t want mei sohn the topic.” She motioned to the bloodstain on his shirt. “You’ll need to geh home and change your clothes before you go to Darleen’s birthday celebration.”
He crossed his arms. “How did you know?”
“I overheard Hazel reminding you at the doktah’s office.” She motioned to his buggy. “You should go. I don’t want to keep you.”
“You’re nett.” Celebrating a birthday, even Darleen’s, seemed trivial in comparison to dealing with the news Jonica received at the doctor’s office today. She was in turmoil. Attending a birthday celebration was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. He didn’t want to leave Jonica alone. “I want to be here.”
“I, ah . . .” She took a step backward, increasing the distance between them. “I feel bad that you weren’t able to finish planting your winter wheat.”
He’d made her nervous. Caleb shrugged, hoping a carefree approach would relax her sudden unease. “The field work will be there tomorrow.”
“Still, I don’t want you to miss . . .”
“Jonica,” he said, “why are you changing the subject? There’s something more behind your nett wanting me to tell anyone about Stephen.”
She scowled.
After several seconds, he groaned under his breath. “I’ll keep your secret.”
“Danki.” She turned and headed back to the house.
“Wait a minute. Our conversation isn’t over.”
“Gut nacht, Caleb,” she said without looking back. “I’ll see you meiya.”
Jah, Jonica, you will see me tomorrow, and we’re going to pick up the conversation where you left it.
Caleb took a few steps toward his buggy, but remembering he hadn’t fed or watered Anchor since he’d put him up in the barn at lunchtime, he turned and headed to the barn. He tossed some hay into the stall and filled the bucket with clean water. Usually, he liked to spend more time with the young gelding, rubbing him down after a hard day. But he was already late for supper at Darleen’s house, and he still needed to go home to change his clothes.
Coming out of the barn, Caleb glanced at the house as he headed toward his buggy. If he could talk to Jonica again, let her know she wasn’t alone, maybe . . . Light shone from the kitchen window, but he didn’t see Jonica. “Lord, please let the blood tests come back negative, and please, God, comfort Jonica. Give her peace.”
He couldn’t stop thinking about Jonica on the drive home. About how frightened she’d been in the doctor’s office, and the brave face she’d put on in front of her son at the hospital when he was having his blood drawn. It broke Caleb’s heart to watch the child endure first stitches, then more needles to draw the blood. He’d only known Stephen a few days, but there was an unexplainable connection to the child. A connection that went deep.
Parking the buggy next to the house, he jumped out and hurried inside.
His mother looked up from her writing tablet and gasped. “What happened?” She dropped the pen and stood.
Caleb followed her gaze to the stain on his shirt. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s blood.” Panic filled her eyes.
“Don’t worry. I’m nett hurt.” He’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Jonica when he came inside, he’d forgotten about his bloody shirt or that it might remind her of Peter, when they found him lying in a pool of his own blood.
“Then how did you get blood on you?”
“Edna’s great-bruderskind cut himself with a knife. Can I tell you about it later?” He tugged at his shirt.
“Jah, geh change.” She shooed him out of the kitchen. “I’ll warm up the spaghetti and meatballs.”
“I thought I told you. It’s Darleen’s birthday. Her mamm invited me to have supper at their place.”
His mother frowned. “Abigail Yoder is nett a gut cook, and from what I’ve tried of Darleen’s cooking at the church meeting meals, she doesn’t have much to woo mei sohn with.”
“Mamm, be nice.”
She scowled. “I know you fancy yourself as . . . having feelings for the maedel, but I’m warning you right nau, if you marry her, you’ll be hungahrich the rest of your life.”
Caleb had eaten plenty of food Darleen had prepared for various fellowship meals and he hadn’t been disappointed once. But he wasn’t about to get into that debate with his mother, who needed to feel important, and that meant being the best cook. Caleb glanced at the wall clock over the table. “I have to go.”
He peeled off his shirt on the way to his bedroom and slipped into his Sunday clothes without washing up. Caleb removed Darleen’s gift, a wooden box he’d made to hold her straight pins, from where he’d stashed it in his sock drawer. It needed a twine-tied bow but there wasn’t time for that now. Going back downstairs, he poked his head in the kitchen. “I’m going, Mamm. Save me a plate, and I’ll heat it up when I get home.”
Mamm smiled. “I’ll be sure to save a gut-size portion.”
He donned his hat and grabbed his nicer Sunday coat on the way out the door. The Yoder’s far
m was only a few miles up the road. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too late. Birthday celebrations at his house consisted of his mother cooking the birthday person’s favorite meal, and the family—no guests—having cake afterward.
The turnout for Darleen’s special supper looked more like a gathering for a Sunday meeting. Counting the number of buggies parked along the fence as he drew closer to the farm, Caleb figured out quickly that he was the last to arrive. He had no idea so many had been invited. Before knocking on the door, Caleb sniffed his armpits. He wished now that he’d taken a few extra minutes to wash up.
Darleen answered, relief flooding her face. “I thought you forgot.”
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. “Well, kumm in. Nay sense in you standing on the porch when everyone is waiting to eat.”
Caleb removed his hat as he stepped inside. Supper was set up buffet style with a stack of plates and a basket of silverware on one end of the counter. The Yoders were a large family, with Darleen being the youngest of ten. Her brothers and sisters were all married and had children of their own, making any family get-together a little overwhelming for an outsider like himself. Caleb greeted a few of her brothers, who milled around the sitting room. Laughter rang out from one of the bedrooms where the children had been sent to play.
“I’ll tell Mamm that you’re here.” Darleen disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him in the sitting room with her daed and bruders.
Caleb didn’t recognize all the men. A couple of her brothers, who lived in Mio, he’d only met one other time.
“Did you finish getting your wheat planted?” David, Darleen’s oldest brother, asked.
“Still working on it.” He sat next to James, who was married to Ellen, Darleen’s second-to-oldest sister.
Melvin Yoder, Darleen’s daed, shook his head. “We’re supposed to get snow tonight. That’s what most of mei customers said when they came into the store to pick up supplies.”
“Jah, that has me worried too,” Caleb said. No one was saying it outright, but everyone knew he’d messed up by not getting the seed into the ground before now.
James elbowed Caleb in the ribs. “I thought you only had twenty acres to work. What’s the holdup been?”
“The field needed more prep than I anticipated and the long rainy season didn’t help. Plus, I have a young gelding.” Most of the members in his district, including James and David, owned mule teams to do the work. Six mules could easily cover more ground in less time than one Clydesdale. But Caleb wouldn’t let a little friendly ribbing get him riled up. He was used to his father harping on him.
“You want me to bring mei mules over?” David asked.
Perhaps pride stood in Caleb’s way and maybe he’d later regret turning down the help, but he wanted to prove to himself, his father—and now, Darleen’s family—that he could plant and harvest the fields on his own. “Danki, but I’ll manage. Besides, I wouldn’t want your team to stumble or something to happen to your equipment. The field hasn’t been worked in years. I’m still picking stones as I go.”
David nodded as though he understood. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I will.”
James changed the subject and the conversation turned to potatoes and the enormous beetle population that ruined many of the crops.
Caleb didn’t know much about potatoes other than what he’d heard from some of the others in the district.
“Even with all the pesticides the Englischers use, they’ve had problems with the beetles this year too,” Melvin added.
Caleb had considered putting in potatoes next planting season because the soil was so good in this area for growing them, but listening to the problems the farmers were having this year, he thought he’d better stick with soybeans or corn. Thankfully, he didn’t have to make the decision tonight. He had the winter to figure out what to plant, if anything at all, depending on what Edna did with her farm.
His thoughts shifted to the redheaded Englischer. Jonica mentioned she believed Edna’s decision to sell the farm had something to do with the stranger. Something about the timing of the two didn’t seem right.
James elbowed him again. “You falling asleep, Caleb?”
“Nay.” He rubbed his side. “Someone remind me nett to sit by James at the next get-together.”
“I was just trying to get your attention.” James moved his elbow like he was about to nudge him again, but Caleb scooted closer to the arm of the couch.
The men laughed.
“Okay,” Caleb said, laughing along with them. “Without jabbing me in the ribs, what did you want?”
James shrugged. “I forgot.”
This time, Caleb jabbed James.
“I had asked if you were still building,” Luke said. “I know of two men in our district who are looking to put up barns.”
Caleb shook his head. “I gave up the business.”
“Why?” Luke drew back in puzzlement. “To become a farmer?”
“Why does that surprise you? Farming is our way of life.” Many families in the area had struggled after two years in a row of widespread crop loss, and this year’s prolonged rainy season placed an even heavier burden on the farmers. As a result some families left the area while others sought alternative means of income outside of farming.
“Your construction business was gut, or at least that’s what I heard. For someone who has other options, farming seems too risky.”
“I needed to do something different.” Caleb suspected Darleen had something to do with the conversation he was having with her brothers and father. She’d been pressing him to reopen his construction business. But this wasn’t the time or the place to discuss his decision to give up building. Luke hadn’t lived in Posen in years and probably hadn’t heard about his brother passing away, and Caleb wasn’t going to put a damper on the family gathering by bringing it up. Instead, he changed the subject, directing his question to Melvin. “Have you seen any redheaded Englischers kumm into your store lately? A man in his forties?”
Melvin shook his head. “Why do you ask?”
“I met someone who’s been . . .” Caleb lost everyone’s attention when Darleen came into the room and announced the meal was ready. It was just as well. He should have waited to speak with her father when he was at the market. Maybe one of his other workers would remember the man based on his description. Caleb stood but let the others go first.
Darleen leaned closer to Caleb. “How are you getting along with mei daed and bruders?”
“Gut, I think.” He rubbed his side again. “But James has a mean jab. He got me with his elbow a couple of times.”
“They’re just treating you like you are part of the family.”
“Is that so?”
Darleen smiled sheepishly. “I hope one day soon you’ll think of them as your family.”
The children came bursting out of the bedroom and stampeding into the sitting room. “Is it time to eat?” one of the boys asked.
Caleb’s thoughts flicked to Stephen. The two boys would be similar in age. Only, Stephen was much smaller—a sickly looking child with washed-out skin tone.
“You kinner go find your mamms.” Darleen shooed all eight of them into the kitchen. “They get too loud when they’re all together.”
Caleb hadn’t given it much thought, but he liked the sound of children laughing. It was too quiet—too dismal—at home. With Peter gone Caleb was the only one at home. His oldest brother, George, had moved to Wisconsin with his wife’s family several years ago, much to his mother’s displeasure. Caleb smiled as the sound of laughter and the chatter of multiple conversations all happening at once filled his soul.
They made their way into the kitchen, where her father blessed the food. Caleb lined up with the men. Everything smelled and looked delicious. He selected a piece of fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, a large spoonful of creamed corn, and a sourdough roll lathered in butter.
>
“I hope you’re saving room for birthday cake,” Darleen teased.
Caleb smiled. “I always have room for cake.”
He waited for Darleen to go through the line, then followed her to a vacant chair in the dining room. Despite what his mother had said about Darleen and her mother’s cooking, he liked everything he ate. Even though he was stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey, he still managed to eat a piece of chocolate cake.
When it came time to leave, Darleen walked him outside.
He removed the wooden box from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “Happy birthday. I hope you like it.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, admiring it in the lantern light.
Something in the way she was studying the box led him to think she might be disappointed. “I thought you could put your straight pins in it for safekeeping.”
“Jah, that’s a gut idea.” She was silent a long moment. “Have you given any thought to our conversation the other nacht?”
He shook his head. “Dar-leen . . .”
“Don’t drag out mei name like that.”
“Like what?” It was late and he wasn’t in the mood for one of her overdramatized fits, which always reminded him of the eight-year age gap between them.
“Just don’t—” She took a step backward, lifting up her hand when he started to follow. “You’re pitying me and I don’t like it.”
“I’m sorry.” Nothing had changed since the topic of marriage had first come up a year ago. He still couldn’t afford a house. How could he support a fraa? She was used to having everything she needed and more. Her own horse and buggy, dresses in every color. She’d never once worn out a pair of shoes. As the youngest of her siblings, she’d been spoiled.
“I think you should go,” she said.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”
Darleen turned her back to him and sniffled. “I don’t even like birthdays anymore. They just remind me that I’m getting older.”
“Twenty-two isn’t old.” He was thirty and didn’t consider himself ancient.
“Mei friends all sit in the married section during Sunday services. All of them.”
Caleb sighed. When Darleen made up her mind about something, she was determined to get it. Knowing her, if her friends decided to jump off a cliff, she would climb to a higher ridge to make her jump.