by Irene Brand
Wendy found the smells of animal waste, disinfectant and grain overwhelming. She was glad when they went into an office where Evan explained the computer system that kept a history of the herd.
Each cow had a separate page and number in the computer program, as well as a registration number recorded on its ear tag. Records of the milk content and productivity were listed, as well as the reports of samples taken often to prove that the milk was pure. The current history of each cow was available at all times. There was more to dairy farming than she’d ever realized, and Wendy knew that in the future she’d have a greater appreciation for each glass of milk she drank.
They went into the pasture field behind the barn where the cattle and a few horses grazed on the short grass. Evan pointed to some round bales of hay.
“The animals won’t be able to reach the grass if it snows, so we’ll scatter hay around the corral.” He broke the strings on one of the bales and demonstrated how he wanted the work done. “You’ll soon get the hang of it.”
It wasn’t difficult to understand what she should do, but the half-frozen ground sucked at her footwear, and every step she took was an effort. As the boots slipped up and down on her feet, blisters formed on her heels.
Before long Wendy realized that she wasn’t cut out to be a farm girl. Her forearms ached from pulling the hay from the bales and scattering it while Evan was busy on the other side of the corral. She was cold, and her feet hurt. She cried in frustration. She wanted so much to be a part of Evan’s life and to do the things he wanted her to do, but if this was what marriage to Evan would be like, she couldn’t do it.
She’d receive her teaching degree in the spring. As a farmer’s wife, could she ever follow her chosen profession? Tears blinded her eyes, and Wendy stumbled over a small rock and fell facedown in the pile of hay she’d just scattered. When Evan reached her, she was sobbing.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, lifting her and cradling her in his arms.
“I…don’t…think…so,” she said, sniffing between each word.
Evan picked her up and started toward the house.
“Put me down,” she protested. “I can walk.”
“But I like carrying you,” he said.
Hilda met them at the door, with Marcy hovering behind her. “What’s happened?” Hilda said.
“Wendy stubbed her toe and fell.”
“I knew she wouldn’t like it,” Marcy said with a smirk.
“That’s enough,” Hilda said to her daughter in a tone that brooked no argument, and Marcy disappeared into the kitchen.
“I’m all right,” Wendy said. “Sorry to make such a fuss. The boots were too big for me, and I couldn’t keep my balance.”
Evan set her on a bench in the utility room, and he knelt to remove her dirty boots. “She was doing a fine job scattering hay, Mom. The boots were the problem.”
Wendy figured that Evan was saying those things to encourage her, but it didn’t help.
“The next time you go out to work,” Hilda said, “wear my boots—they’re closer to your size.”
After he’d helped her out of the bulky coveralls, Evan said, “Go upstairs and rest. I’ll finish my work and be in for supper soon.”
An onslaught of rain against the windows woke Wendy about midnight, followed by wind that whistled and roared as it snaked its way around the house. The strong gusts seemed to shake the building, and when it sounded as if someone was throwing pebbles against the windows, Wendy knew that the dreaded ice storm had reached the valley.
She snuggled down under the heavy blankets and went back to sleep. The next time she awakened, she was cold, and she soon realized why. The electric mattress pad no longer soothed her body with warmth. A chilly black silence enveloped her. She slid her arm under the pillow and pulled out the flashlight. She splayed its beam around the room and pulled the chain on the table lamp, but the light didn’t come on. The electricity was off. The continual howling of the wind unnerved Wendy, and she wished she had never left Florida.
Wendy spread an extra blanket on the bed, but she still shivered. She thought more sleep was impossible, but she must have dozed for she roused to a soft knock on the door.
“Yes?” she said.
Evan opened the door and, holding an oil lamp, stepped into the room.
“You’re probably aware that we’re having an ice storm,” he said, “and that we have no electricity. You might as well stay in bed as long as you can. The only heat we’ll have is the fireplace and a gas space heater in the family room. We also have a gas cookstove, so we’ll be okay.”
Wendy sat up in bed and pulled the blankets around her. “How long will the storm last?”
“Hard to tell. We have a battery radio in the kitchen, so we can keep up with what’s going on. It’s not unusual to lose power throughout the year, so we’re prepared for it.”
“Aren’t your milking machines powered by electricity?”
“Yes, but we have gasoline generators for auxiliary power. I wouldn’t want to milk that many cows by hand. When you get up, put on your warmest clothes and your boots and come downstairs.”
As he walked to the barn, Evan again bemoaned the fact that Wendy was seeing Ohio at its worst. He should have invited her to come for Easter when flowers bloomed and the trees would be starting to leaf. Instead, she was here, according to the meteorologists, during the hardest winter storm of the century. With this power outage, he’d be spending more of his time in the barn and wouldn’t have much time with Wendy. He’d sensed her despairing mood last night, as if she found the farm more than she could tolerate.
When Wendy got out of bed, she soon learned that light wasn’t the only amenity she didn’t have. She turned on the faucets and didn’t get a drop of water. She went into Olivia’s room. A mound of blankets on the bed indicated that Olivia, curled up like a kitten, was sleeping in.
“Are you awake?” Wendy whispered.
Olivia uncovered her face. “Uh-huh.”
“I can’t get any water.”
“And you won’t get any until the power comes back on. We have a private electric well system.”
“What do we do for baths?”
“We’ll heat some water on the kitchen stove and take sponge baths. Evan will hook up a generator to the system later on today to run the freezers for a few hours to keep the food from thawing. He might connect to the pump so we can take showers. It just depends on how much he has to do with the cattle.”
“During hurricanes we often lose power. But in the part of Jacksonville where I live, we haven’t lost electricity for several years.”
“There’s only one advantage of this storm. Evan told me that school has been dismissed until after Christmas. I’m going to stay in bed. When we don’t have electricity, there’s not much we can do except sleep.”
“I’m going to get dressed and go downstairs. See you later.”
Chapter Eight
On her way to the family room, Wendy stopped in the central hall and looked out the window. The countryside was a winter wonderland. Tree trunks, branches and shrubbery were glossy white. Sidewalk and grass were covered with several inches of snow and ice. The power lines were coated with ice. White pine branches littered the ground. Wendy stepped out on the front porch, gasping when she breathed in a suffocating gust of cold air. She heard sounds like gunshots.
She closed the door and hurried into the kitchen. Working by lamplight, Hilda, still dressed in her pajamas and heavy robe, was preparing breakfast.
“I’ve heated water so you can wash your face and hands,” she said. “When the power goes off, we live like pioneers.”
“I stepped out on the porch and heard odd, snapping sounds like gunshots.”
“The trees are breaking under the weight of the ice,” Hilda said. “That’s the main reason the power is off—tree limbs are falling on the lines.”
Hilda was as bright and cheerful as ever, and Wendy wondered if anything ever phased th
is woman. Even the family room, which was usually cozy, felt chilly, and Wendy backed up to the fireplace, welcoming its subtle warmth.
“I cooked oats this morning,” Hilda said. “I thought we needed a warm cereal. Evan and his dad like oats with cinnamon and brown sugar. That’s the way I eat them, too, although my girls pour cold milk over their oats.”
“I’ll try the cinnamon and brown sugar,” Wendy said. “Breakfast food at home is either cold cereal or nothing, but I started eating bigger breakfasts when I went away to college. I’ll take care of my breakfast. You’re going to be busy enough without waiting on me.”
“All right. Coffee is ready, and there’s hot water if you want tea. I’m baking a coffee cake, which will be ready by the time you finish your cereal.”
In spite of the cold, the room seemed homey while Wendy sat at the table and ate.
“Wonder if this storm is widespread?” she asked. “I probably should phone my mother and let her know that I’m all right. If she hears about this ice storm in Ohio, she’ll conjure up all kinds of trouble. I phoned her when I landed in Columbus, but I haven’t talked to her since.”
“Go right ahead and call anytime you want to—that is, if the lines aren’t down,” Hilda said. “Tell her we’re used to coping with emergencies like these.”
When Wendy picked up the receiver, there was no dial tone, but Marcy entered the room and said amicably, “The cell phones should work. I’ll get mine for you.”
Marcy was fairly friendly when she brought the phone from her room, and Wendy wondered at the change in her attitude. Hilda or Evan, maybe both of them, had probably had a chat with Marcy. Wendy sensed that they hadn’t approved of Marcy’s coldness to her.
She had no trouble making the call, but there wasn’t an answer, and Wendy left a message on the answering machine.
The sleet continued falling until midafternoon when the blustery wind blew the clouds away. The sun spread a mantle of brilliance over the valley that radiated off the ice covering. Wendy squinted when she tried to look outdoors because the dazzling brightness blinded her.
Though the sun was shining, the temperature was still below freezing and the Kesslers prepared for several cold days. The local radio station reported that thousands of southeastern Ohio residents were without power and that it could be a week or more before trees were cleared from all roads and power lines.
“If that’s so,” Marcy said, “we won’t have any power until after Christmas. Does that mean we can’t have our family get-together, Mom?”
“Oh, we’ll manage somehow,” Hilda said. “We’ll probably have power in this area before the outlying residents do.”
Some of the major highways were blocked by fallen trees or broken electric lines, and the family had to keep in touch with Karl by using cell phones.
Wendy despaired of having any time with Evan, and she wished she had stayed in Florida. He was an hour later than usual coming in for his breakfast, and as soon as he ate, he went back to work.
Wanting something to keep her occupied, Wendy helped Hilda prepare the evening meal. When she couldn’t turn on a faucet and get water to wash the salad vegetables, she gained a new appreciation for the benefits she’d always taken for granted. While she worked, she sensed that Hilda was unusually quiet.
Suspecting the reason, Wendy said compassionately, “Are you worried about Mr. Kessler?”
Hilda cast a warm smile toward Wendy. “Not worried exactly, because I know the hospital will take good care of him. He’s better off there than he would be at home. They have an auxiliary system that activates within minutes of a power failure. They have emergency plans that go into effect immediately when there’s a crisis. There are food and water supplies to last for several days. I phoned this morning, and one of the nurses told me that there will be a full staff at the hospital all the time. The hospital has emergency four-wheel vehicles to bring in their workers. Karl is doing fine, but I miss him very much. He’s always stayed close at home, and even if he leaves for a few days, since the girls have been old enough to stay alone, I’ve gone with him. It’s been several years since we’ve been apart.”
Wendy’s hands paused over the bowl of lettuce she’d shredded. “Was it very difficult for you to take on all the responsibilities you have here?”
Hilda smiled sympathetically. “Not really. You see, I just gradually eased into being the mistress of this house. Karl’s parents lived here when we were married. We didn’t move here until his father got sick, and Karl took over full management of the farm. Besides, I grew up on a nearby farm, and I didn’t have to do anything I hadn’t done in my parents’ home.”
Wendy didn’t answer, and she applied her attention to the salad again. Hilda turned the meat in the skillet, then she put her arm round Wendy’s shoulders.
“Don’t worry about it. Love finds a way around even the biggest problems. Evan loves you very much.”
Wendy shook her head and swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “You mustn’t have the wrong idea about us. We aren’t really engaged, you know.”
“He told me that you’d broken the engagement.”
“I still feel it was the right thing for me to do. I can never be the kind of wife Evan needs.”
“Let Evan be the judge of that.”
“For one thing, I don’t have the spiritual beliefs that your family has.”
“Why not?”
“My grandfather is the minister of a large church in Miami, and Mother has always resented him because he didn’t make my father stay married to her. That turned her against Christianity, and my grandparents in particular. She’s a very bitter woman, and she’s been a huge influence on me.”
“Why is she bitter? Have you ever stopped to wonder?”
“Many times! But I’m not very persistent, and she won’t talk about her frustrations. It’s been easier for me to do what she wanted rather than to cross her. The only time I ever did something she didn’t want me to was coming up here for Christmas. And I feel guilty that she’ll be spending the holiday alone.”
“Let’s sit and talk a bit while we wait for Evan to finish work for the night. Christmas really isn’t a holiday—it’s the commemoration of the birth of Christ. It’s been turned into a secular celebration, but not in our family. We do many of the things that others do, like giving gifts, having a big dinner and decorating, but we have some family traditions that we always observe.”
“Tell me what they are, so I’ll know what to expect.”
“Our families were German immigrants to this country, and we still carry out some of their traditions. The Christmas tree is supposedly a German custom started by Martin Luther. Early Christians didn’t do much celebrating of Jesus’ birth, but one cold and snowy Christmas Eve Martin Luther was walking through an evergreen forest. Stars sparkled down through the snow-covered branches, as if they were a part of the tree itself. He wanted to share this sight with his children, so he cut down a tiny fir tree and carried it home.”
“I did a history project on the Hessian involvement in the American Revolution, and I learned that those German soldiers may have introduced the Christmas tree to America.”
“That’s probably true. Luther and his wife decorated the tree with lighted candles to represent the Christ child as the light of the world. We always have candles on our tree, but the candles are electric ones now.”
“Mother and I don’t do much decorating at Christmas, but we do have a tree.”
“Also we have special German foods, especially lots of bread and cookies from recipes our ancestors brought to this country.”
Since most of their Christmas food came from the deli, Wendy didn’t comment, but waited for Hilda to continue.
“The highlight of the season for us is the midnight Christmas Eve service, when we celebrate what God did for us by sending His Son into the world to redeem mankind from our sins. Even though I’ve been a Christian since I was a child, each year when I kneel and take co
mmunion with my family, I renew my vow to worship and adore, not only the Christ child, but the crucified Christ. It’s a tender moment, and I think after you’ve worshiped with us, you’ll have a new concept of what Christmas means.”
“I hope so. After my grandparents got legal rights for me to visit them, I spent two weeks with them each year during the summer. They took me to church, and I do have some knowledge of what your faith is and why it’s important to you. But when I turned eighteen, I didn’t go back to see them. Rather than hurt my mother, I made a choice and stopped visiting them. The only contact I have with my grandparents is through the check they send me for Christmas each year. I write them a thank-you note, and that’s it until the next year.”
Hilda stood when she heard Evan enter the utility room. He was accompanied by a slender, gray-haired man.
“Wendy, this is our uncle Gavin, Daddy’s brother. His farm adjoins ours.”
“Gavin, how did you get here?” Hilda asked. “I thought the roads were closed.”
“I came on my ATV,” Gavin said as he removed his coat. Hilda took the coat and hung it up. “Evan invited me for supper, but I can’t stay long,” he said. “I want to get home before dark. I came to see how you were managing.” Looking at Wendy, he added with a sparkling laugh. “And I wanted to meet your guest.”
Hilda introduced Wendy to Gavin, then she said, “Supper is ready. Wendy, help me put the food on the table. Evan, call your sisters. They’re cleaning the living room as best they can without a vacuum cleaner.”
“I often come this way for a good meal,” Gavin admitted with a smile. “My wife died three years ago, and my two daughters live in Cincinnati, so I get lonely. And hungry!”
“You’re always welcome,” Hilda assured him.
Wendy liked Gavin Kessler immediately. She saw in him many of the traits she admired in Evan.