by Kelly Long
He nearly choked. Thank goodness no one was watching. He had to be strong for his family. His mother and little brother depended on him. He could never allow them to see how much he hurt.
For some strange reason, his thoughts turned to Amos’s tutor. He took a step forward to continue tossing the hay into the cattle bed with his pitchfork. To his dismay, all he could see was the determination on Emma’s face when she’d made her case for the auction.
He frowned and continued pitching straw until he stopped to get his breath. On the wall, a pair of quiet pigeons overlooked his work. A brown squirrel had grabbed one of the acorns that Jonathan had scattered on top of the cement slab behind the shed.
As his recent conversation with Emma replayed in his mind, an image of his late father appeared in his mind. Jonathan wished with all of his heart that his dad was still alive. Most definitely, the person Jonathan had respected more than anyone in the world would have figured something out. A way to get little Amos’s procedure without taking donations. Now it was up to Jonathan to do the thinking.
Jonathan wasn’t nearly as experienced as his role model. He swallowed a sad knot as he envisioned his dad smiling and running his fingers through his long beard. His wisdom and logic were surely missed.
He was sure that his father would come up with a way to get funds for Amos’s surgery without so much notoriety. Without taking revenue from complete strangers that he couldn’t pay back. Jonathan knew where he had inherited his proud nature. But he prayed constantly for God to help him be more humble and focus a little less on pride and self-respect.
But what could he do? Jonathan shrugged. Thanks to Emma and a group of women in the community, the fund-raiser had materialized before there was even an opportunity to stop it. Initially, he hadn’t considered it seriously. Who would have guessed that such interest in little Amos would have exploded when the press got wind of the story? Even now, if Jonathan attempted to cease the auction, he probably wouldn’t be able to. But what could he do?
He knew whom to ask. Swallowing a knot that was a combination of desperation and humiliation, he folded his hands together in front of him and knelt. Squeezing his eyes closed, he lowered his head in a quick, swift motion to pray. In a whisper, he pushed out everything he felt.
“Dear Lord, right now, I’m torn. I need guidance. I want Amos to get his heart fixed—it’s not that I’m trying to stop it. I just need to know how to make that happen without accepting money from everyone around.”
He shoved out a sigh. “In my heart, I know Dad would want to take another avenue. But what is it?”
He considered what he’d said and gave a shake of his head. He pressed his palms together so hard, his hands shook.
“I pray that You will help me to be a better provider. A good family leader.”
When he opened his eyelids, his entire body was shaking. For long moments, he considered his prayer. An unsettling sensation filled his gut until it ached.
He folded his hands over his chest as he recalled yesterday’s conversation with Emma. He hadn’t neglected to notice her deep blue eyes and smiled a little. The shade was so beautiful; it reminded him of pictures of tropical waters he’d seen in travel magazines. He tapped the toe of his shoe to a beat that was a combination of uncertainty and curiosity.
Under Emma’s kapp was an autumn-blond braid that had been tucked in neatly. Amos’s tutor was average height and she’d worn a navy dress with sturdy black shoes. The corners of her lips had lifted up into a natural smile, and at times, when she spoke of something that enthused her, off-white flecks on her pupils danced with a childlike energy.
What intrigued him most was her fierce determination. Despite the fact that he didn’t support the auction, he admired her for all she’d done to ensure it happened. He didn’t expect her to understand his negative view of accepting handouts. However, he also didn’t expect his position to change.
He put his pitchfork and shovel away, organized the feed bags on the south side of the barn, and closed the large, heavy doors. Inside his home, Amos’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Johnnie, will Emmie come tomorrow?”
Jonathan smiled a little and wrapped an affectionate arm around the boy’s narrow shoulders. His heartstrings pulled at him as he realized how unusually fragile his brother was compared to other kids his age.
“Not on Saturday, Amos. But she’ll be back Monday.”
Jonathan was quick to note the disappointed expression on his brother’s face.
“She gave you a good book to read, though, jah?”
He nodded. “But I like it better when she reads with me.”
Jonathan didn’t know how to respond to the unexpected comment. While he hung his coat on a hook and enjoyed the welcome change in temperature, he raised a thoughtful brow.
He’d known for some time that his younger sibling was smitten by the blue-eyed tutor. And it didn’t help that Mamma was bedridden again. However, Jonathan admitted that Emma’s nurturing didn’t hurt his little brother. Jonathan only wished that she would do what he wanted—and not the other way around.
Excitement edged Amos’s voice. The corners of his lips turned up into a grin that spread across his freckled face. Jonathan pushed Amos’s bangs off of his forehead with gentle fingers.
To Jonathan’s surprise, Amos handed him one of Emma’s cookies. “Johnnie, whatever’s bothering you, Emmie’s cookies will make it better. Here. See?”
With that, Amos bit into the treat and grinned. He rolled his eyes. “Emmie likes me to eat them. Besides, she needs me for her test run.”
“What?”
“You know. A test run. Every time she makes cookies, she does something different to the recipe.” He squared a narrow set of proud shoulders. “It’s up to me to tell her how she’s doing. She even has me score each batch from one to ten. And I have to make sure her best recipe is the one she uses for the auction.”
The auction. There it is again. But the simple way Amos explained the rating system made a smile tug at the corners of Jonathan’s mouth. Emma had a way of making Amos feel important, that was for sure.
And Jon could see how she’d involved his brother in the fund-raiser. She made the boy believe he was contributing. Obviously, he considered his cookie-testing role of utmost importance. And Jonathan was certain Amos didn’t mind.
Jonathan strummed the tips of his fingers against the tabletop and took in the serious expression in Amos’s eyes. Every time he looked at his little brother, love overwhelmed him. He wanted more than anything for the kid to be able to have a normal life. If only he didn’t feel so incapable.
He wished everything was as simple as the child viewed the world. Amos was standing at his side, obviously waiting for Jonathan to take a bite of the iced cookie in the round shape of a Christmas ornament.
Obliging, Jonathan tasted the dessert and nodded satisfaction. “I’m not sure, but I think this might be the best-tasting Christmas cookie ever.”
Amos was quick to nod agreement. “That’s ’cause all of Emmie’s cookies are practice for the auction.”
Jonathan lifted an inquisitive brow. “Is that what she told you?”
He was quick to offer a proud nod. “Jah. She wants the cookies that get money for my surgery to be the best anyone has had. Ever.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together as he considered the admission. To his dismay, it seemed as though Emma was always pushing the fund-raiser. He drew his brows together into a frown.
“Emmie would be sad.”
Amos’s voice was edged with disappointment. Jonathan’s gaze locked with his dear little brother’s. “Why?”
“Her cookies are supposed to make people smile. But they made you frown.”
The little guy was way too perceptive for his age. Jonathan knew Amos wanted to be just like him. Because of that realization, Jonathan forced an optimistic tone.
“Not at all.” He ordered his mouth to smile after chewing another bite of the
iced dessert. He would be lying to himself if he said Emma’s cookies weren’t the best he’d ever eaten. He didn’t know what she did to the dough, but whatever it was made the treats score high.
“You’re right about what you said.”
Amos looked at him to continue.
“After finishing the cookie, I’m absolutely certain, without a doubt, it wins. It’s the most delicious I’ve ever had.”
The expression on Amos’s face turned more serious. He stepped closer, put a small hand in front of his mouth, and spoke in a hushed tone. Jonathan wasn’t sure why. Their mother was in her room elsewhere in the house. “Even better than Auntie Elizabeth’s?”
Jonathan chuckled and nudged the boy. Smiling, Jonathan pressed a pointer finger to his lips. “But that’s just between us.”
Amos’s eyes doubled in size. “Really?”
Jonathan nodded. “No one ever has to know.”
Squaring his shoulders, Amos grinned from ear to ear. With one quick motion, he clutched his fingers to his palms and raised his knuckles to meet Jonathan’s. “Secret.”
Jonathan met Amos’s knuckles with his own. They did it when they shared something important with each other. Jonathan knew that to Amos, a secret meant he would never tell anyone.
Once, when Amos had spotted Jonathan sneaking one of their mother’s sponge cakes she’d made for the neighbors, Amos had pledged confidentiality. And he hadn’t told a soul.
Jonathan stood to walk him to his room. “It’s time for someone to get to bed.”
Amos never argued. The doctors had made it clear to Jonathan how important it was for Amos to get plenty of rest.
“Will you tell me a story?”
Jonathan wrapped an affectionate arm around the child he loved more than life itself. “Which one you wanna hear?”
As Jonathan followed the youngster to his room, Amos turned back to him and started to slip in his socked feet.
“Whoa!”
Jonathan caught him. “Watch where you’re going.”
Amos giggled.
Jonathan held Amos’s shoulders as they made it to the child’s bedroom. As Amos pulled his pajamas from the drawer, Jonathan’s thoughts drifted back to Emma.
He considered her “test runs” and smiled. It certainly wasn’t difficult to understand why his little brother was so fond of her. It was too bad he didn’t agree with her about having the auction. Because there were plenty of things he liked about her, too.
CHAPTER 3
It had become routine for Jonathan to drive Emma home. Usually Amos came with them. She rather enjoyed talking with Amos’s brother. As they approached the Yoder home, the sun came out for a moment, causing her to blink. But the moment it appeared, it went away. As usual, they discussed the fund-raiser. And they still disagreed. Again, she tried to convince him why to have it.
Those reasons by far outnumbered any reasons not to. She knew the cost of the surgery was so high, he would never be able to pay for it himself, even with the help of their close community.
After a tense, lengthy silence, she glanced at Jonathan’s expression from her peripheral vision. “You know what your problem is?”
He lifted a challenging brow.
“That you’ve always been healthy. Neither one of us has walked in little Amos’s shoes.” She pushed out a deep sigh. “So we could never completely understand what it’s like to stay inside all day when your friends play outdoors. Wear a sweater in the middle of summer.”
Jonathan held up a defensive hand. “I think I do.”
She raised her chin a notch. “How could you?”
“When I was Amos’s age, I suffered from chronic asthma.” Jonathan’s tone was edged with regret. “Thank goodness, I grew out of it. When I was young, I would wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air.”
He paused a moment and looked into the distance. “In fact, I can’t count the number of times I awakened my poor parents.”
“Could they help you?”
“Not really. But they tried. They did their best. To my mom, rubbing eucalyptus oil on my chest was the cure-all. It smelled good.”
He chuckled. She joined in the laughter.
“The best medicine I had was a puffer.”
Emma offered an eager nod. “I know what that is.”
“You do?”
“Jah. When I visited my cousin at the hospital after her delivery, I saw a woman use one in the waiting area.”
“They certainly come in handy for asthma patients. But what’s bad about asthmatics, besides difficulty breathing, is that if they don’t get enough rest, they catch things easier.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Bugs.”
She eyed him.
“They get sick with the snap of two fingers. Trust me, Emma, I was the kid who always had to bundle up. We’re talking layers of clothes under my coat. I can’t count the number of times I couldn’t go out and play with my friends because if damp or cold air got into my lungs . . .” He shrugged. “Forget it. My mom rubbed even more eucalyptus oil onto my chest as I lay in bed.” He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “And with me, it took forever to get well.”
Emma offered an understanding nod. “I’m sorry, Jonathan. It’s hard to believe that a big, strong guy like you was ever sick.”
His shoulders straightened. The appreciative expression on his face told her that he enjoyed the compliment.
“Thanks for sharing that with me.”
“You’re easy to talk to, Emma. I wish I could open up to Amos and have a heart-to-heart. There are things he needs to know.”
She wondered what he wanted to tell his brother that was so hard to convey. She tried to picture Jonathan in bed. It was difficult to envision. But now that she knew this about him, her opinion of him changed. His admission tugged at her emotions, and despite herself, she liked him even more.
* * *
The auction was two days away. At her dining room table, Emma held the lists of donations in front of her and carefully checked off each name that had been confirmed. She pictured how the tables would be laid out; she had assembled male volunteers in the community to set them up in the cookie tent according to plan.
As she considered the number of events that would be raising money for Amos’s surgery, she strummed the bottom of her black ink pen against the lined paper to a nervous beat. She thought of all of the prayers and work that had gone into this. The dreams. Hers, in particular. The day that little Amos’s doctor would fix his heart so he could play outside with other kids.
Despite the joy that last realization brought, her pulse pumped to an uneasy pace. Why? The goal I’ve worked so hard for is finally going to happen. Why am I not ecstatic?
The sound of Mamma pulling up a chair next to her prompted her to look up. The unpleasant noise of the chair legs gliding across the polished hardwood floor made Emma’s brows draw together in a frown. Unable to concentrate, Emma laid her pen on the lists in front of her, crossed her hands over her lap, and looked at Mamma.
“Honey, if you don’t smile, those frown lines will make a permanent home around your lips. You’re too tense.”
The soft faux warning made the corners of Emma’s mouth lift into a half smile. As she locked gazes with her role model, Emma rolled her shoulders to release tension and blew out a deep breath. As she leaned forward, she planted her feet firmly on the floor to scoot closer to her mother.
“You want to talk about it?”
Emma noted the weariness in her own voice when she finally responded. “Oh, Mamma. If only things weren’t so complicated.”
“I thought you’d be excited. You’ve worked harder than anyone to make the auction a reality. Think of all you’ve accomplished! You’ve got volunteers. The media is involved. People are donating big items for little Amos. There’s even a farmer auctioning off an acre of farmland for the charity. The momentum couldn’t be stronger!”
“I know, Mamma. And it will be
my dream-come-true when we add up the money and announce that we’ve got enough for the special surgery.” Emma clutched her hands into fists and closed her eyes as she said those words. “I’m so excited about the auction, but . . .” Emma swallowed and lowered her gaze to the tabletop.
Mamma leaned forward in silence. When she spoke, her voice was so hushed, it was barely more than a whisper. It was edged with both concern and doubt. “What is it, Emma?”
“Mamma, I only wish we had Jonathan on board.”
The woman Emma respected most in the world laid a reassuring hand on Emma’s wrist. “Don’t you worry about Jonathan. I’m sure that once this is all said and done, he’ll be grateful for everything.”
“I don’t like going against his wishes. Now that we’re so close to having the funds, I feel guilty for being so determined to do the last thing Jonathan wants.”
Mamma cleared her throat. Her touch on Emma became a little firmer. “Honey, do you believe he could have come up with the money on his own?”
Emma smiled a little. “Of course not. Even with our own community helping out, I don’t think the surgery could have been paid for.”
“Then don’t second guess what you did, honey.” Mamma adjusted in her seat and crossed her legs. When she spoke, the tone of her voice turned firmer. “Emma, you and I both know what self-respect means to Jonathan.”
The remark made Emma giggle.
Her mom smiled relief. “That’s what I like to see! My girl’s smile.”
The tenseness in Emma’s neck began to go away.
“But back to the older Troyer boy. Emma, I’m sure you can understand that the combination of stubbornness and such strong self-respect makes for a difficult man. Mix those traits with all of the talk and publicity surrounding the fund-raiser for his brother’s heart surgery, and I imagine Jonathan’s having a pretty rough go at it. I know of men like that.”
Before Emma could get a word in, Mamma lifted an amused brow. “My own daddy’s one of them. So you can’t just look at a man and understand his position without taking in the whole picture of what he’s going through. It’s not a cut-and-dried situation, unfortunately.”