An Unexpected Joy

by Ruth Reid

  Mammi took a sip, then handed the cup back to him. “I’ll drink it after I take a short nap.” She pushed off the chair. “Watch over Abigail.” She pointed to the rag at the end of the couch. “I’ve been keeping a cool cloth on her forehead. Don’t let her fever get out of control.”

  “Ah . . .”

  “Micah, I won’t be able to rest unless I know she’s being cared for.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her.” I’ll drive her home.

  “I thought you would.” She ambled down the hall toward the bedroom.

  He looked at Abigail sleeping peacefully. He should wake her. She’d be more comfortable at home in bed. The cherry-red hue gave her face a nice glow. He eased her into a more comfortable position and placed the pillow under her head. She was warm, her face boiling.

  Micah re-wet the rag and returned to the sitting room. Kneeling down beside the couch, he placed the cloth on her forehead.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, her eyes still closed.

  “Don’t be.” He watched her a moment, purring like a kitten, then sat in the rocking chair. A surge of protectiveness rose up inside him. He wanted to take care of her in sickness, in health, from buying a dangerous horse.

  Two hours went by before she stirred. Abigail removed the cloth from her forehead and squinted at him. “How long have you been sitting there?”

  He shrugged.

  “Where’s Edith?”

  “Lying down.” He rose from the chair and came up beside her. “Are you feeling better?”

  “I think so.” She placed her hand on her forehead.

  He picked up the cup. “I’ll warm this up.”

  She shook her head, then cringed as if doing so gave her a headache. “I don’t want anymore.” She pushed into an upright position. “I didn’t mean to keep you from working.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I’m sure Thomas is waiting for you. You should go back to work.”

  Micah shook his head. “I promised Mammi I’d look after you. Besides,” he said, walking toward the kitchen with the cup, “I sent Thomas home awhile ago.” He dumped the contents from the cup into the sink, then placed the pot on the stove to reheat. One whiff of the steaming contents brought back memories of when his grandmother had brewed the bitter concoction for him.

  “Honestly, Micah, I can’t drink that.” Abigail held up her hand in refusal.

  “I know it doesn’t taste very gut, but it’s gut for you.” He stood before her, cup in hand and not budging.

  She shook her head. The aroma roiled her stomach. If she drank anymore, she wouldn’t hold it down. But he planted himself, feet shoulder width apart and as concrete as a pillar of stone. “Fine.” Abigail took the cup and held it, warming her hands. She peered up at him when he didn’t move away.

  “Drink it,” he said.

  She sipped the tepid fluid and grimaced. “I think I’m feeling better.”

  Micah took a seat in the rocking chair, planting his elbows on his knees and studying her. “I can’t figure you out,” he said.

  “I’m nett complicated. What are you trying to figure out?”

  “I stopped at Gingerich’s Market this morning. I tried to buy some of your cookies.”

  She swallowed hard. “I’ll make you a batch when I’m feeling better.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His stare bored a hole through her heart.

  Mammi entered the sitting room. “I think the nap helped. How are you feeling, Abigail?”

  “She’s feeling better.” Micah stood and motioned for Mammi to take the rocking chair. “I’ll hitch the buggy. I’m sure Abigail is anxious to get home.”

  Abigail felt the air leave her lungs. For a few short-lived minutes he’d treated her so tenderly. Fran must have told him why her baked goods were no longer for sale at their market. He didn’t waste time hitching the buggy. Micah came back inside, plucked her cloak off the hook, and held it out for her.

  Silence made the ride home seem longer than usual.

  Micah stopped the buggy next to the porch steps. When she didn’t immediately climb out, he shifted on the bench to face her. “Do you need assistance up the steps?”

  “Nay.” Her throat tightened. “Would you have hired me if you knew the reason Mr. Gingerich wasn’t accepting mei baked goods anymore?”

  “Nay.” His jaw muscle twitched.

  Tears burned her eyes. “I didn’t mean for you to—”

  “Find out?”

  She bowed her head. “I just wanted to be able to buy mei horse. I shouldn’t have involved you.”

  “You shouldn’t have gotten involved yourself.”

  “Don’t say that,” she said. “Thomas is mei cousin. His family prayed many years for him to return.” God, please forgive Micah. He should understand that Thomas needs a bit more grace.

  Neither of them spoke for a few moments.

  Micah was the first to break the silence. “You should probably go inside nau.”

  Thirty people sat wedged, like a dozen cookies in a box too small, in the bishop’s sitting room for Sunday service. Abigail liked the summer months better when they could fellowship outside. She missed Malinda. The two of them always sat together in the back row along with the other unmarried women. Abigail looked beyond her sister Elizabeth and stole a glance at Micah, seated across the aisle. His solemn face tore at her heart.

  She hung her head and closed her eyes. Forgive me, God. I should be paying attention to the Scripture reading.

  The bishop would probably call her name at any moment and ask her to stand. She would have to give account to her actions. Abigail wasn’t sure she could repent for helping the lost, feeding the hungry—despite breaking the rules of the Ordnung. Even under the weight of Micah’s disappointment in her.

  The service ended with a prayer.

  Chatter about Christmas filled the room as the women made their way into the kitchen. Abigail rose from the bench. If she could go home without bringing attention to herself, she would.

  Edith ambled toward her. “How are you feeling?”

  Abigail forced a smile. “Better. And you?”

  “I’m full of energy. Shall we go help the others prepare the meal?”

  Apparently, the tea worked for her new friend; Edith was already heading toward the kitchen. Abigail trailed behind. Although once the meal was served, she planned to make an excuse to go home. Rounding the corner of the kitchen, she glanced over her shoulder at Micah. He stood near the woodstove talking with David and her father.

  Micah stopped and looked her way a brief moment, as did her father and brother. Something in their riffled expressions told her they were discussing Cactus.

  She lowered her head and continued into the kitchen. She had a suspicion that her dreams were about to be shattered.

  That night at the supper table, her father finished the last bite of his cherry cobbler, set his fork down, and cleared his throat. “Peter, Daniel, if you two are finished, I’d like you to start the barn chores.”

  They pushed off their chairs at the same time and scampered out of the kitchen.

  “Sadie, why don’t you help your bruders tonight.” Daed nodded toward the door, and she scurried out of the room.

  With Elizabeth and David at the singing, it left Abigail alone with her parents. She stood and began gathering the dirty dishes.

  “Have a seat, Abigail,” Daed said.

  She eased back onto the wooden chair.

  “I understand you’ve been talking t
o Mr. Troyer about buying his horse.”

  Abigail nodded. “I’ve been saving for a year.”

  “She has, Emery,” Mamm added.

  “I don’t want you buying that horse. He isn’t the right one for you.” Daed took a drink of coffee.

  “Mr. Troyer has several horses for sale.” Not that she could afford a different one.

  “I’m referring to the one named Cactus. I’m nett familiar with the horse, but Micah tells me he’s too high-spirited for you.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. Micah probably gave him an earful of other news too. “I’m gut with horses. You know that. I’ll have Cactus trained in no time.”

  Her father shook his head. “I have to agree with Micah. He knows a lot about horses, and he claims that one has a bad disposition.”

  Mamm reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’ll find another horse—a better one.”

  Abigail nodded, but she found it difficult to believe. She never should have told Micah about Cactus. She wheezed.

  “Are you feeling sick again?” her mother asked.

  “Jah—” Her dry, scratchy throat made it difficult to talk. She turned her head and coughed, but it was more for a reason to be excused.

  “I’ll reddy-up the kitchen,” Mamm said. “Go upstairs to bed.”

  Abigail looked at her father, then seeing his nod of dismissal, rose from her chair. She hurried out of the room before he could call her back and ask about her baked goods.

  The Mason jar of money caught her eye the moment she entered her bedroom. It would take another year—maybe two—to save for a better horse. That’s if she found another job. Micah wouldn’t need her after . . . She dropped on her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and sobbed.

  Several hours later, something hit Abigail’s window with a thud. She squinted in the darkness. Another thud. This time Abigail could see the imprint of the snowball. Her sisters were fast asleep in their own beds on either side of her. She went to the window, spotted a flicker of lantern light, and lumbered downstairs to check out who it was. The last person to wake her up was James. Last spring he’d thrown pebbles at the window trying to get Elizabeth’s attention.

  Abigail slipped her bare feet into her boots and put on her cloak.

  “Psst. Over here,” Malinda whispered.

  Abigail scurried across the lawn to the large maple tree. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had to talk to you.” She sniffled. “I overheard mei parents talking about moving.”

  “Oh no. That’s horrible news.” Abigail wrapped her cousin in a tight hug.

  “We’re going to go live with meidaed’s parents . . . in Lancaster.” Her breath hitched.

  “Because of Thomas?”

  “I heard mei daed tell mei mamm we won’t make it through the winter.”

  “Has he tried to talk to the bishop? What about mei daed?

  I’m sure someone would loan him money to get through the winter.”

  Malinda shook her head. “He’s hardheaded, and he refuses to let Mamm ask your mamm.” She wiped her face on her coat sleeve. “Do you know when Thomas will get paid?”

  Abigail didn’t even know if he still had a job. Micah had sent him home early. “Wait here.” She retraced her steps back to the house, tapped her boots against the porch railing, and brushed the snow off the hem of her nightdress, then tiptoed inside and up the steps. She grabbed the Mason jar from the top of the dresser and made her way back outside.

  Malinda shook her head when Abigail tried to hand her the jar. “I can’t take your savings. What about Cactus?”

  “Your family needs it more than I do. Besides,” she said with a winded sigh, “I’d like to think this was the reason God had Micah crush mei plans to buy Cactus.”

  “How did he do that?”

  “He told mei daed that Cactus wasn’t a gut horse for me, and mei daed listened.”

  “I’m sorry.” Malinda patted Abigail’s arm.

  “So you can’t move—unless you take me too. You’re mei cousin, mei best friend.”

  Malinda hugged Abigail. “I don’t know when we can repay you.”

  “It’s a gift.” Abigail smiled. “It’s better to give than receive.” She couldn’t explain the warmth—the peace she was experiencing.

  “I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve blessed us more than I—”

  “God blessed you. The gift is from Him.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Micah paced to the end of his workshop and gazed out the window overlooking the house. He and Thomas had been hard at work over an hour and still there was no sign of Abigail. It wasn’t like her not to show up.

  Just then, a buggy pulled into his driveway. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he told Thomas, who was adding more wood to the kiln. Micah jogged up to the driver’s side of the buggy and stopped short at the sight of Abigail’s brother, David.

  “Guder mariye,” David said.

  Elizabeth climbed out from the passenger side.

  “Mariye,” he muttered, turning toward Elizabeth. “Is something wrong with Abigail?” She’d appeared fine at church yesterday, although he never had a chance to ask if she was feeling better from her bout with the flu.

  “Nett that I know of,” she replied with a shrug. “She asked me to sit with your grandmother today. You do still need someone, right?”

  “Jah.” Micah had hoped to get the bulk of the work done by the end of the day.

  “I have a few errands to run, so I’ll catch up with you later,” David said.

  Micah nodded. He turned to Elizabeth as David’s buggy pulled away. “Abigail didn’t say why she couldn’t come today?”

  Elizabeth shrugged again. “She pulled the unfinished horse blanket out of the closet and asked if I had any unused material or an old dress she could have.”

  “I thought maybe since she was sick the other day . . .”

  “I don’t know, maybe she is. She moped most of yesterday.”

  Moped? That wasn’t like Abigail. Perhaps she’d overdone it by attending services and she’d relapsed. She certainly wasn’t someone to shirk work obligations. After all, she had sent Elizabeth in her place. But something Elizabeth said about Abigail wanting to work on an unfinished horse blanket niggled at him. Maybe she wasn’t sick after all but was planning to follow through with purchasing Cactus. Would she ignore her father’s wishes?

  He went inside with Elizabeth and introduced her to Mammi, who had many of the same questions about Abigail’s whereabouts. Then he tracked along the snowy path back to the shop. Maybe if he worked fast, he could visit her later this evening and get to the bottom of things.

  Abigail cut the dress Elizabeth had given her into strips. She’d never used a dress to make quilt binding, but she didn’t have much choice. With only a few dollars to her name, she couldn’t afford new material. Abigail spread the horse quilt out on the floor. It was larger than a full-size bed. She threaded the needle.

  Her little sister Sadie poked her head into the room. “Do you have a pencil I could use? I’ve worn mine down to the nub and I need one for schul.”

  Abigail motioned to the table beside the bed. “There should be one in the drawer.”

  Sadie skirted the material on the floor so she didn’t step on it. “Your blanket is big.”

  “Jah. Even looks big for a horse, doesn’t it?”

  Peter called for Sadie to hurry, a first for one of the boys to be eager to go to school. Sadie grabbed a pencil from the drawer and rushed out the door.
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br />   Abigail began sewing the strips of material together. She jabbed her finger with the needle several times trying to hurry. God had given her a purpose for the quilt—or so she believed after the dream she had last night.

  Abigail steadily stitched the material in place, turning the strip just right to miter the corners. Without having anyone to talk to, she progressed quickly. She stitched the two ends together.

  Hours later, she rubbed the kinks in her neck muscles. “Lord, if this is Your will, please give me favor for borrowing Daed’s buggy.” She stood, folded the quilt, then went downstairs.

  Seated at the kitchen table, Mamm looked up from darning socks. “Are you feeling better?”

  Abigail nodded.

  “I have a pot of stew and biscuits ready for lunch.” Mamm glanced at the wall clock. “Your father and David should be in any minute. They’re working on something privately out in the barn. I think I might be getting a new rocking chair for Christmas.”

  Her mother had hinted ever since the leg on the old one cracked. Their family made most of their gifts for each other and had fun teasing one another about the surprise. Don’t lament over what’s already done, she chided. Needs must always come before wants, even if it’s another person’s need. And Malinda’s family needed the money.

  Lord, You gave me peace last night about giving the money away. I don’t want to grumble or have any regrets about it now. I did the right thing.

  “I think your daed is trying his best to cheer me up. This will be the first Christmas without mei sister and her family.”

  “Have you talked with Aenti Doreen lately?”

  Mamm frowned. “You know I haven’t.”

  “I just thought with Christmas a few days from nau maybe . . .”

  Daed and David were in the midst of a friendly debate over fertilizers when they came in from the barn.