by Amy Lillard
“Of course. Just a minute.” Matthew started toward the hall, his steps heavy, tired. How long could a man endure? How long could he outwardly act like what he already knew wasn’t the truth? How long could he pretend that his daughter didn’t hate him, and he wasn’t beginning to resent her back? That it was getting harder and harder to respond to these summonses, knowing that he would be rejected. And how terrible a person was he for even thinking such things?
Matthew still managed to make his feet take him all the way to the crib. He leaned in and saw that she was crying real tears, like she had suffered the utmost of betrayals. He supposed she had. Her face was bright pink, her cheeks wet as she shook her tiny fists toward heaven and kicked her legs with all her might, as if that alone would somehow right all the wrongs that had been dealt her.
He ran a quick finger down the leg-edge of her diaper to see if she was wet. Thankfully she was dry. Maybe a bottle would ease her cries for a bit. But Mammi Glick told him that she had given the baby a bottle just before she had fallen asleep. That had been less than an hour ago. Surely she wasn’t already hungry.
He was beginning to worry that he was so calm when she cried and yet so reluctant to take care of her. Was he losing it?
Making shushing noises that were as dumb as they were ineffectual, Matthew raised the baby from her crib, her legs still kicking as if she were trying to knock herself from his grasp. But that was ridiculous, right?
She was still screaming when he tucked her against his chest and turned around to find Aaron standing in the doorway of the room. He had thought perhaps his friend already left. Yet there he stood.
“She’s very unhappy about something.” Aaron gave a rueful smile.
“Life,” Matthew replied, and brushed past him to take her into the living room. The boys were outside and he would have stayed in her room to help insulate the noise from the rest of the house, but he didn’t want to leave Aaron alone in the living room. This could take a while.
Matthew settled down into the padded rocking chair, acutely aware of Aaron’s blue-gray eyes on him. He rocked the baby, willing her to stop crying, forgive him, and let them begin again, but her tears continued. He pressed a small pacifier into her mouth, but she shook her head and batted it away. It was going to be one long night. Made even longer by the fact that they had had a few moments of peace where she was concerned, and now those moments were gone.
“Here,” Aaron said. He was still there? Why? His friend reached his arms out toward the baby. “Let me.”
Matthew tried not to let his relief show as he turned the baby over to Aaron. He shouldn’t feel relieved. But he was, and the emotion mixed with his shame and left a bitter taste in his mouth.
As he watched, Aaron performed the Quiet the Baby Dance that parents Englisch and Amish alike had been doing for thousands of years to soothe their babies. He cradled her close, patted her back, gently bounced her in place, and made a collection of noises that were a strange language that adults could speak, but only babies could understand. Within minutes she was quiet, hiccupping a bit and breath still heaving from time to time, but no screaming, no tears, no horrible, undetermined distress.
Matthew wanted to crawl onto the floor and lie there, not moving, and see if God would just take him. He was apparently not fit as a father and only the baby was astute enough to pick up on it. Everyone else could calm her, could make her stop crying, make her happy even. Everyone but him.
Aaron kissed the top of the baby’s head, then shot Matthew another rueful smile. “Sometimes—” he started, but Matthew held up one hand to stay his words.
“She hates me. She cries whenever I’m around. She won’t let me help her.” He heaved in his own shuddering breath, hardly able to believe that he was admitting this to another person. “I have to marry Gracie Glick. If only to retain my sanity.”
“Are you saying the baby cries like this all the time?” Aaron’s eyes widened.
Matthew nodded miserably. “Constantly.”
Aaron pressed his lips together and made a noise of both anger and sympathy. “No wonder you’re willing to marry someone so quickly. You’ve had months of this.”
“Jah. The women from the church come over and help. That gives me a break, but . . .” He stopped before he could say the rest, that he was so exhausted these days that there were times when he didn’t trust himself with her. Stephen was too young to take care of her, so he had taken over most of the care for Henry and the twins. He was too young for such responsibility.
Between her constant crying and having to rely on his eldest to help where he could, it was almost more than Matthew could accept. Then, adding insult to injury, the baby cried every time he cared for her. It was as if she were telling him, You killed my mother, now go find me a new one. So that’s just what he had done.
“I should be getting home. Where would you like her?” Aaron asked.
“The playpen, I suppose.” Matthew bit back a sigh. “I’ve got to go check on the boys and make sure they have all their chores done for the night.”
Aaron placed the baby in the playpen set off in one corner of the room closest to the window, but still in the shade. He adjusted the mobile plaything so she could reach for the objects, then turned back to Matthew. “Why don’t you try to relax for a little while and I’ll go check on the boys,” he offered.
Matthew did his best not to fall completely apart at the offer and settled back in his seat. “Danki,” he said, his voice just a bit choked. Maybe that was all he needed: a rest. A little break from the tragedy that had become his life.
“I’ll come back in if there’s something amiss out there,” Aaron continued. “Otherwise I’ll see you sometime this week.”
Matthew nodded, glad he didn’t say at your wedding. It was looming ever closer, necessary and troublesome all at the same time.
The baby needed someone to take care of her, and aside from allowing her to go to Ohio and live with one of his sisters, where he would most likely never see her again, he opted to marry Gracie Glick. He and the boys could get along fine, he was fairly certain, but the baby was another matter altogether. He didn’t want to send the baby away and have the boys remember what a coward he had been. The only other option was to send all the boys, along with the baby, to Nannie’s house.
The thought was like a knife through his heart. He couldn’t send them to his sister’s. He would never be able to handle that, losing Beth and the children in just a matter of months. He might as well have someone shoot him, like you do an old horse when it’s gone lame. There’s nothing more you can do but put them out of their misery.
Or move back to Ohio.
He pushed the voice aside. It had been whispering to him lately, patiently explaining how he could move back, closer to his family, where he could . . . what? Move back in with his parents and Jason while he waited for someone to die, or for some Englischer to move so he could buy their farm? Land was scarce all over, but Ohio Amish country was so full up of farms it was next to impossible to get one unless someone left it to you or you converted an Englisch farm to an Amish one. That in itself was costly and time consuming, and the very reason he and Beth had moved south.
And then this . . .
But he didn’t want to think about any of that right now. He needed this time, thanks to God and Aaron for giving it to him. Time to regroup and set his mind and his heart right. Time to not worry about anything. Time when there was nothing but peace in his world.
Their footsteps across the porch was his first warning.
“I told you, you should always empty the water trough completely before trying to add more,” Stephen said in that bossy voice he had adopted recently.
“Only when there’s too much dirt in it,” Henry protested. “It was practically clear as a window.”
“There was dirt in there,” Stephen argued.
“You’re just wasting water,” Henry taunted.
“Am not!” Stephen retorted. “You j
ust don’t want to get your cast wet.”
“The doctors told me to make sure and keep it dry,” Henry shot back.
The boys burst into the house, their argument over chores escalating as they saw him.
They rushed him, the twins following behind, not really in the argument but not wanting to be left out of the fray.
“Dat! Dat!” the boys called.
And the peace so sweet and brief was shattered.
The baby began to cry, the twins joined in with their own versions as Stephen and Henry vied to get their father on their side.
And then this . . .
Chapter Nine
Gracie scooched to one side on the porch swing so Leah could join her. Confident, bright Leah eased down gently, that in itself unusual. Normally she would plop down beside her and use her heels to get the swing started once again. Something was up.
“I guess you were voted to be the one to come out here and talk some sense into me,” Gracie said.
Leah grimaced. “We drew straws.”
“And you lost.”
“Actually, I won.”
Gracie turned sharply to stare at her cousin. “You wanted to do this intervention whatsit?”
“I wanted to talk to you and make sure you feel you’re making the right decision.”
“You know how I feel about marrying Matthew.”
Leah nodded. “I know.” She started the swing once again, using the heels of her bare feet. “But is that all?”
“What else would there be?”
Her cousin shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Come on,” Gracie said. “Surely one of y’all has some crazy idea about my motives.”
“Hannah said it could be all about the dog, but I pointed out to her that you had only found her yesterday.”
Gracie laughed. She couldn’t help herself. “You guys are sweet to be worried about me, but I know what I’m doing is right.” Do you?
“We have to worry about you. We love you.”
“And I love you.” She laid her head on Leah’s shoulder. “I wish Tillie was here for this. She doesn’t even know I’m getting married.”
Leah heaved a sigh. “I know. We were just starting to connect again.”
“Maybe she’ll come back,” Gracie said, wishing like everything her words would come true.
“She won’t. Not without Melvin, and he isn’t coming back. Not now.”
Melvin’s parents had taken it hard that their only son had wanted to join the Englisch world and had packed up everything and moved. Gracie had no idea where the Yoders were living now. This was the only Amish community in Mississippi. They could have gone back to Tennessee, but someone in Pontotoc would have heard. No, Linda and Johnny Yoder had set off to be lost to the community where they had raised four daughters and a son. Now it was as if they had never even been there at all. Their house was now abandoned, but Gracie figured it was only a matter of time before someone took it over. Melvin wasn’t coming back because there was nothing for him to come back to.
“She might still change her mind,” Gracie said. There was a chance, but it was a slight one. Still, they could hope.
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of the night around them. The call of a whippoorwill, the chirp of tree frogs, and the deep croaks of the bullfrogs in the nearby pond. Night bugs sang to one another and a dozen or so lightning bugs tried to stab holes in the black cloak of night.
“He’s a good man,” Gracie finally said.
“Melvin?”
“Matthew.” She paused for a moment. “He seems all burly and tough, but he loves his children and he does the best he can. He’s a good father and I know that he was a good provider for his wife. I know it.” She thumped her fist to her chest just over where her heart beat. “He’ll be a good father to our children as well.”
She was thankful for the cover of darkness that hid the pink she knew was seeping into her cheeks. She still wasn’t entirely sure that she was prepared for her wedding night, but surely the good Lord would see her through. After all, she wasn’t the first bride in history.
“I just want him to make you happy.” Leah’s words held a fierceness that both pleased and shocked Gracie. She loved her cousins so very much.
“I never thought about it much,” Gracie said, “but after Jamie—”
“I’m sorry,” Leah murmured.
Leah’s husband, Jamie, had started off trying to court Gracie. Until that time she had pushed her dreams of having a family of her own to the back of her mind. There was no sense pining after something she couldn’t have.
“Don’t be.” Gracie patted Leah’s hand where it lay on her denim-covered thigh. As a member of the local Mennonite church, Leah didn’t wear the traditional Amish dresses, but instead wore long skirts that nearly reached the ground and tops with sleeves that never went up past her elbows. She also wore a prayer covering, though many of the women in her church had foregone that tradition. “Jamie made me realize that I could have the family I have dreamed about my whole life.”
Leah tilted her head to one side and was quiet a moment before she spoke. “I suppose Jamie was about as desperate for a family as you are.”
Desperate. It was such a lonely word.
And Jamie was trying to provide a home for his nephew, Peter, who had fallen into his care after the death of Peter’s parents and only sibling. Peter didn’t speak for months after the tragedy and still suffered from his own injuries caused by the house fire that took their lives. Only after having Leah in their lives had Peter started to speak again. Now he was a chatterbox, full of life and energy. So much that even his pronounced limp couldn’t dampen it all.
“We all have things we need,” Gracie finally said.
One of her favorite Bible verses came to her. For He satisfieth the longing soul, and filleth the hungry soul with goodness.
They all needed, and the Lord provided. In all things.
* * *
On Monday, the Widow Kate came over to watch Henry, the twins, and the baby. Yesterday it had become more than apparent to Matthew that he was in dire need of a break. He would have one soon, but not soon enough, he feared.
After Henry and Stephen had clamored in, arguing over who knew the correct way to refill the water trough and the baby had started crying once again, Matthew had lost his temper. He roared at his children, a voice tone way above a mere shout. He sent them all to their rooms, put the baby in hers, and prayed that he made it through this without completely losing his mind. And that’s how he felt, like he was losing his mind.
His mind was in a jumble, a tangle of sharp edges and stringy thoughts that slithered away each time he reached for one. He couldn’t remember the last decent night’s sleep he’d had. That had been before Beth’s drowning. He had been the nighttime caretaker, the one who got up for those midnight feedings. The baby hadn’t seemed to mind him then, but her mother was still alive, maybe not as attentive as she could have been, but still breathing. At least when Beth was alive there was a chance. It was after she died that the baby had turned on him. He was still the one who cared for her in the middle of the night, but something had changed. She no longer responded to his touch, his soft words, his gentle pats. It was as if she knew that her mother was never coming back, and it was all his fault.
He shook those thoughts away. There were times when he honestly felt as if he was losing his mind and this was among them. He just had to wait, get that one good night’s sleep and he would be back on top. It was a struggle to stay there, and eventually the emotions and failures would pull him under again, but he always managed to make his way back to the surface. He just had to be patient and wait. But there was something nagging at him.
Matthew wasn’t sure why the thought had occurred to him, but it had. Maybe it was something that Aaron said to him the day before. He didn’t know, but the thought was there in the night and had plagued him all through the dark hours. As if he didn’t have enoug
h to keep him awake. Now he had this. And he came to talk to the only person he thought might be able to help him. Aaron Zook.
Matthew set the brake, hopped down from the buggy, and hobbled his horse. Aaron Zook’s house sat directly across from the schoolyard, and Matthew hoped that Stephen wouldn’t see him pull up or drive away. He needed this information, felt as if his life might depend on it.
As suspected, he found Aaron in the corral working with a large black horse whose coat was so shiny it was almost hard to look at. Even though he was wearing his hat, Matthew shielded his eyes from the midmorning sun and made his way over to where Aaron worked.
Matthew knew so very little about horses. Just what a farmer needed to know to pull a plow or a buggy and help his family get around. But watching Aaron with the beast was like watching water flow from one stream into another, fluid, beautiful, transcendent. And he was unwilling to interrupt. So he simply watched, transformed to another place by the beauty of their movements. He had heard through the rumor mill, also known as the church ladies, that Aaron had always wanted to work with horses, but just in the last year or so was able to make that dream a reality. It was good to know someone’s hopes had been realized, their prayers answered.
He stopped at the fence, loath to speak lest he break the spell between man and horse. Besides, he wanted to watch a bit longer, enjoy the poetry that was before him.
But only a few short minutes later, Aaron gave the horse a carrot stick and patted his strong, shiny neck. Then he turned the beast out into the main pasture and walked back to where Matthew watched and waited.
“This is something of a surprise,” Aaron said as he came near.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he replied. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here.
“You’re fine.” Aaron took a rag from the back of his pants and wiped his forehead under his hat band and rubbed the sweat between his fingers. The day had turned out quite warm.
“Don’t you need to brush him down?”
“It can wait a minute. He likes to roll around in the dirt anyway. If I wait, then I can get some of that out of his coat at the same time.” Aaron smiled, then asked, “What brings you out today?”