by Sarah Price
“C-c-cookies.”
Inhaling, Myrna shut her eyes and counted to ten. “That wasn’t the agreement. It’s work before play, Henry.” Unfortunately, cleaning the kitchen hadn’t been on her list today, and now all her plans were upended. “Now I have to sweep up this mess, and not only won’t we have time for making cookies, we certainly don’t have enough flour.”
When Henry heard this, his upper lip started to quiver, and his crying grew even louder.
“You should’ve done what I asked and not something else,” she scolded.
For a few minutes, she ignored his cries while she worked to clean the floor. But the more she tried to sweep it up, the worse it seemed to get. The task overwhelmed her and, with Henry’s caterwauling, she couldn’t focus.
“Oh help,” she muttered and leaned the broom against the counter. She went over to Henry and opened her arms. The sobbing child dove into them. The way he hugged her, his little arms tightly clasped around her neck, warmed her heart. “There, there,” she murmured. “It’ll be okay.” She rubbed his back and rocked him, just a little. “It’s nothing that can’t be fixed. And mayhaps we can send your daed to town for some more flour, so we can make those cookies after all.”
Upon hearing this, Henry shuddered and his cries began to subside until she felt his soft breath against her neck. For a few minutes, she held him like that, gently rocking him back and forth.
“I think he’s sleeping,” a whispered voice said from the doorway.
Slowly, Myrna turned around, surprised to find Ezekiel standing in the doorway. How long, she wondered, had he been watching?
Quietly, he crossed the room and took the small boy from her arms. As he held his son, his eyes scanned the mess in the kitchen. Inwardly, Myrna cringed. She didn’t even want to think about how the place must look to him. Surely he would think she was incompetent.
“What happened here?”
There was no accusation in his voice, for which Myrna was thankful. Had he appeared angry or spoken sharply to her, she might have broken down and cried just like Henry.
“He wanted to help make cookies,” she whispered.
“Hm.”
Myrna glanced down and realized that, just like the counters and floor, she, too, was covered in flour. Her cheeks grew hot, her embarrassment clearly evident. “He . . . he fell down.”
Ezekiel ran his hand up the boy’s back and gently placed it behind Henry’s neck. He waited a few seconds before he shook his head. “Nee, he’s fine. No injuries, anyway.” His dark eyes met hers. “Probably just a wounded ego from being scolded.”
Without another word, Ezekiel crossed the kitchen and disappeared into his bedroom. She stood there, alone in the kitchen, and felt terrible. How could she have scolded a three-year-old child? Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for this, she thought. Surely Ezekiel would not want her returning to care for his children. Only a week into the job and already everything seemed a disaster.
Seconds later, Ezekiel emerged and quietly shut the door behind him. He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. His dark curls stood up, making him look as if he’d just awoken.
“I’m sorry that I yelled at him,” she said at last.
He nodded.
“I . . . I just didn’t think, I suppose.”
“Hm.” That grunt again! “Reckon he owes you an apology, too.”
His words surprised her. An apology? From the child? Myrna had expected that Ezekiel would be upset with her. She certainly hadn’t expected that he’d be understanding!
“Reckon there’s been a lot of change for him.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and glanced toward his bedroom door. “Too much excitement for a little one like that. He’ll sleep now, for a while, anyway. Seems he naps better on the cot in my room.” He exhaled. “I could hardly get him to go to bed last night. David and Daniel, too.”
“Oh?”
He gave a small smile. “All they wanted to do was talk about you. Myrna this and Myrna that.”
She flushed and averted her eyes. “A few sugar cookies and their hearts are all mine, it seems.”
When he laughed, she realized that she hadn’t heard him laugh before. He was always so serious and somber. But the sound of his laughter filled her with a type of joy that was completely new to her. It was as if she had given him the gift of laughter, and just knowing that, Myrna felt blessed. She had brought a brief moment of joy to his day. She had a terrible suspicion that his laughter had remained hidden for far too long.
“Well now,” he said, returning his attention to the white-coated kitchen. “Why don’t we tackle this mess, ja?”
Surprised, Myrna didn’t know how to respond. Why would Ezekiel offer to help her? After all, she was paid to tend to the children, and it was her fault that Henry had spilled the flour. She hadn’t been watching him properly. Under her care, he had gotten into the cabinet, and it was her mess to clean up. Besides, surely Ezekiel had chores to do in the barn or pastures. And yet he had volunteered without any hesitation. She knew that she couldn’t allow him to help.
“Nee, Ezekiel—” she started, but he interrupted her with a raised eyebrow. “Zeke,” she corrected. “I don’t mind cleaning it—”
“Neither do I.”
And with that, the matter was put to rest. She knew better than to argue. Not over something like this.
He walked to the pantry and pulled out a dustpan. In silence, they swept up the flour, mopped, and wiped down the counters. With Ezekiel’s help, it only took about twenty minutes before everything was put back in order.
“There now.” He rinsed the cloth and wrung it out, hanging it from the side of the sink.
She leaned against the mop handle and watched as he reached into the top drawer to the right of the sink and pulled out a dish towel to dry his hands. It made her smile that he remembered she had put them there. “Danke, Zeke.”
He gave a single nod, then he gestured toward the door to his bedroom, where he had laid Henry to nap. “Well, enjoy the quiet before they both awaken,” he said, giving another smile before he left to work in the fields.
Myrna stared after him, wondering at the moment they had just shared before realizing that she didn’t know why he had come into the house in the first place.
* * *
“No cookies?”
As they walked down the driveway, Myrna fought the urge to roll her eyes as David gave her a despondent look. Ever since they had left the schoolhouse, Myrna pulling the wagon with Henry and little Katie inside while the two older boys trotted alongside, the entire conversation had been about cookies. Clearly she had indeed won their hearts one cookie crumb at a time.
“Nee, David,” she said, hoping that she sounded just as sorry as they felt. “We had a mishap with the flour this morning and there’s not enough left to make cookies today.” She knew better than to admit what had happened. Brothers could be hard on one another, and Henry was too little to be subjected to any teasing from his older brothers.
“Tomorrow?”
She gave a shrug. “It depends whether your daed can get to the store before then. But he’s busy with farmwork, so it might not be until next week.”
He scowled and kicked at the dirt.
Myrna laughed at the disappointed expression on his face. “My word, David!” She remembered what she’d been told on her first day and, still not believing it, probed a little. “Surely your aendi must’ve made you cookies every day.”
To her surprise, he shook his head. “Nee, she did not. We told you that already.”
Daniel pouted. “And we like your cookies, Myrna!” She glanced over her shoulder to make certain little Katie was okay. “That’s nice to hear,” she said. “I learned from my maem. She makes cookies with her friends on Fridays for Sunday worship. All the little children love to eat her cookies.”
Daniel’s mouth opened.
“Best be careful or you’ll catch flies,” Myrna teased. Then she tentatively asked, �
�Mayhaps your maem made you cookies, then?”
He squinted and gazed upward into the sky as if looking for her. Myrna took advantage of the moment to study the young boy. He didn’t look much like his father, so she could only imagine he resembled Katie Ruth. If so, his mother must have been very pretty.
“Maem was sick a lot,” David said as if merely stating a fact. There was no emotion in his voice. “She didn’t cook.”
“Someone must’ve cooked for you!”
“Daed.”
Myrna stopped walking. “Your daed cooked for you? While your maem was sick?” When he nodded, Myrna tried to wrap her head around this information. With three small children and a sick, pregnant wife, Ezekiel cooked for the family? She couldn’t imagine that was possible, given the amount of work there was on the farm. “I wonder that the community didn’t help out,” she said slowly. “Surely they did, and you just didn’t know it, David.”
“Nee, they didn’t, Myrna!” David shot back, his eyes narrowing. “Daed did it,” he insisted.
“And Daed can’t cook so good,” Daniel whispered. “We like your cooking better.” He peered up at her and gave her a grin. “Just like we like your cookies! Mayhaps we can go to your church service sometime.”
Despite the disbelief she felt at David’s confession, Myrna couldn’t help but laugh at Daniel’s eagerness. “Well, if it means that much to you, we can surely make cookies for you to bring to your worship next time. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it.”
As they approached the farm buildings, Myrna caught sight of Ezekiel. For a split second, as she saw him dumping a barrel of manure into the sludge pit, she felt a wave of compassion for the man. If what David had told her was true—and she wasn’t certain she believed him—no one had stepped up to help Ezekiel care for his three small children and sick wife. But surely, after she passed and there was a newborn baby, someone must have offered to help besides his sister-in-law?
Her compassion for him grew twofold. Raising four young ones—and tending a farm as well!—would be a difficult task for anyone. She could hardly imagine how hard the past few months had been on him. Suddenly, she felt a desire to make him a special meal, one that would show him that someone cared, even if it was only her.
“Let’s go inside,” she coaxed the children, hoping to distract them. “We can see about making something extra special for your daed tonight. And we can see if there’s enough flour left over to make a pie, ja?”
Daniel, however, noticed his father as he returned to mucking the dairy barn. “Daed!” He ran away from Myrna and headed toward his father. David quickly followed.
Myrna kept the same pace, pulling the wagon with Henry and Katie. She hoped that David and Daniel weren’t bothering their father about flour. If so, she’d have to sit them down and remind them not to interrupt Ezekiel with things as unimportant as cookies.
Earlier that day, after the flour incident, she had managed to wash the family’s clothing. As she walked down the driveway toward the house, she could still see the items flapping on the clothesline. Fortunately, it hadn’t rained. She’d have to settle down the boys so she could fetch them, or there would be nothing for them to wear tomorrow. Hopefully David would mind Henry for a while so she could finish her chores before starting on supper.
As she approached the dairy barn, she saw Ezekiel pull a handkerchief from his back pocket and wipe his forehead. Even though the weather wasn’t too warm, it was hard work shoveling manure.
“What’s this I hear?” he said as she neared. “The shortage of flour seems to be of concern to young David and Daniel here.”
Myrna caught her breath and pressed her lips together tightly. “So it seems.”
“We want cookies!” Daniel jumped up and down.
“Myrna makes the best cookies!”
Ezekiel gave a soft chuckle. “Well, I wouldn’t know,” he said, “seeing that there were none left when I came inside last week.”
This news caught her off guard. Putting her hands on her hips, she stared at the two young boys standing beside their father. “What is this? You ate all of those cookies?” She had specifically told the boys to save some for dessert after their supper. “It’s a wonder you didn’t get sick! Mayhaps I won’t make any more cookies if you can’t control yourselves.”
At once, she saw the crestfallen looks upon their faces. Daniel’s eyes began to fill with tears, and from the wagon, Henry began to cry again.
Why was nothing going right today? she wondered.
Ezekiel frowned, his gaze shifting from his boys to Myrna. But he said nothing.
David stomped his foot. “But you said we’d make some for worship Sunday! You promised.”
Before Myrna could say anything, Ezekiel rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Now, David,” he said in a soft but firm voice, “you best listen to Myrna now. If she told you to save some cookies and you didn’t, well, she has the right to be upset. Gluttony is a sin, you know. Mayhaps if you do your chores and behave properly, she’ll change her mind. But in the meantime, there’s nothing to be done about it today.” He gave David’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Now, go on inside and do your chores. No back talk, or we’ll have our own little private discussion later,” he warned sternly.
Without arguing, both David and Daniel scampered toward the house. Myrna watched them disappear inside before she turned her attention to Ezekiel. To her surprise, he had been studying her, and once caught, he averted his gaze.
She felt her cheeks grow warm, but she realized that she didn’t mind that he had been looking at her. In fact, she found his attention suddenly agreeable. There was something about this man that intrigued her, and that awareness made her cheeks flush even redder.
“If you make a list,” he said quietly, “I’ll take you to the grocery store in the morning.” He looked up. “If you’d like, that is.”
When she met his gaze, Myrna felt as if her throat closed up. Her breath felt short and her chest tightened. She knew that she could go food shopping by herself, even with both Henry and little Katie in tow. But at that moment, his dark eyes staring into hers, Myrna realized that she wanted nothing more than to spend more time with Ezekiel, to get to know him better, and to make up for the uncharitable people in his church district.
“I’d like that very much,” she heard herself say.
His mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile, but he caught himself. “Best be getting back to my work,” he mumbled and hurried off to the dairy barn.
Myrna forced herself to walk toward the house and not look back. Was she holding hope that Ezekiel might be interested in her? And, if so, why did she care? She tried to convince herself that she didn’t care, but deep down, if she was honest with herself, she knew she did.
He was, after all, a wounded bird, and she was always the first one to help those injured birds heal.
Chapter Thirteen
Edna wasn’t the biggest fan of grocery shopping, especially when she needed to shop in Shipshewana. She always made certain to avoid going there on the weekends. It was always so busy then, mostly with local people—Englischers, of course—who clogged the aisles with their carts and children.
On Tuesday morning, she decided it would be a good day to tackle the chore. She needed to replenish her supplies for the cookie group. She scolded herself for not having gone before or after she visited with her friends at Verna’s.
“Oh help,” she muttered. She’d just washed the last of the breakfast dishes but hadn’t finished before her oldest son, John, had left for his job. She’d meant to ask him to hitch the horse to the buggy for her. Now he was gone, and Elmer was already in the back pasture mending a fence.
Sighing, she leaned against the counter and noticed that Jeremiah and Jonas still sat there, Jeremiah scanning the newspaper as they both lingered over a final cup of coffee.
“What’s wrong, Maem?” Jeremiah asked.
“Oh, I just forgot to ask John to hitch up the hors
e.”
“Where y’going?” Jonas asked, a mischievous gleam in his dark chocolate eyes. “Anywhere good? Mayhaps I’ll ride along and keep y’company.”
“Nee, you will not,” Edna scolded. The youngest of her sons, Jonas was always the first one to try to sneak out before doing his chores. “You’ve got to help your daed with the fencing in that paddock. Can’t have those cows wandering into the hayfield.” Her eyes stole a glance at the clock. “Ach! It’s almost seven thirty! I’m surprised you’re not out there already.”
Both young men groaned, but knew better than to linger further. They got up, carrying their coffee mugs to the sink.
“I’ll hitch up the horse,” Jeremiah offered as he reached for his straw hat, which hung from a wooden peg on the wall. “Jonas can get started helping Daed.” Plopping the hat onto his thick, dark blond curls, he made his way to the door, gesturing for his younger brother to follow.
Jonas, however, made a face and dragged his feet, half in jest.
It always made her wonder at the little jokes God played on people. Her three sons were as different as could be and yet they seemed to blend together along the edges. In some ways, her middle son, Jeremiah, resembled John in the way he looked out for her. The only difference was that John thought of things to demonstrate his attentiveness without reminders, while Jeremiah needed that gentle nudge. And yet, he also resembled Jonas, who was carefree and tried to get out of doing his chores at the first opportunity.
* * *
Thankfully, the store was not crowded. There was nothing worse than a crowded grocery store with gawking Englischers. With tourist season starting again, it was that time of year. But tourists helped all of the Amish businesses stay profitable, so Edna knew better than to wish things were different. In fact, with her own little business serving the noon meal to tourists on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, she tried to be forgiving of their awkward stares and silly questions.
“Edna Esh!”
She squinted, trying to make out the figure of the woman approaching her. Her farsightedness was getting so bad that she couldn’t tell who it was until the person grew near. “Miriam Schrock?” Edna smiled, even though, if truth be told, it was a little forced. The older woman was known as a gossip, and from what Verna had told her, Miriam hadn’t wasted any time after worship to speak poorly of Ezekiel Riehl. “Why, I haven’t seen you in ages!”