by Jan Drexler
“I hope you will remain here in Weaver’s Creek with us. Have you made any plans?”
Plans? “I hadn’t thought much beyond Lovinia’s illness. But now that she’s—” He couldn’t say the words. “I’m not sure what I’ll do.”
“You should consider marrying again. A man with a young family shouldn’t be without a wife.”
Gideon had buried his face in the towel and now lowered it to look at Abraham.
“That is what Lovinia said, but I can’t—” He shook his head and hung the towel on its hook. “I can’t imagine marrying again so soon.”
“I understand,” Abraham said. “But a man can’t farm and raise a family on his own. It is a labor that requires two people working together.”
Gideon nodded. But knowing the situation and doing something about it were two different things.
Abraham peered in the kitchen door, then indicated a couple chairs on the porch. “It looks like we’re early for dinner. We have time to sit and rest before we eat.”
It felt good to sit down. Gideon stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles.
“My father settled on this land almost fifty years ago,” Abraham said, folding his hands over his chest as he stretched his own legs out. “He eventually built the farm up to eight quarter sections, including the land on either side of the creek.” He waved his hand toward the trees beyond the barn. “We kept that quarter as forest, but we are clearing the rest of the land as we need it. Jonas chose the timberland for his home. He’ll be taking over this place when Lydia and I are too old to care for it anymore. I sold the quarter section north of the timber section to Gustav Stuckey when he brought his family from Germany twenty years ago.” He rubbed his beard. “Hmm. More than twenty, now. Poor Gustav is gone, but his sons do well since they have taken over farming the land.”
“Does Samuel have a quarter?”
“For sure.” Abraham waved toward the stone bridge. “Across the road, there. You can just see the peak of his barn roof. We farm his acres and mine together, along with Jonas when he’s home.”
“And then you have this quarter section, where the farm buildings and pastures are, and the parcel that you’ve cultivated on either side of the creek to the west.” Gideon counted on his fingers. “That makes five. Where are the other three?”
“Two of them lie farther to the west and are still wooded. Someday we’ll clear those. Samuel’s boys will each get a parcel, Bram and Henry. Their younger brother, William, will continue on Samuel’s place when he’s old enough.” Abraham turned toward Gideon. “The last one is the original homestead. Lydia and I lived there in the early years, until our family grew larger. When my parents passed away, we moved into this house. The old house is still there.” He pointed beyond the corner of the white farmhouse toward the north. “The quarter section, one hundred sixty acres, is on the south-facing slope there, across the road to the west of Samuel’s. It’s good land with trees surrounding the house and outbuildings. I had the thought that you and Ruby might marry, live in the house, and that you will share in the family’s work the way Samuel does.”
Gideon cleared his throat. “Marry Ruby?”
Abraham covered his smile with one hand. “I seem to have spoken too many thoughts out loud. Lydia had mentioned that Lovinia wanted you to marry our Ruby. Didn’t Lovinia talk to you about it?”
“Ja, she did.” Gideon shifted in his chair. “She was convinced it was the right thing to do.”
“But you aren’t?”
“I haven’t . . . I mean, I told her I would . . . think about it.” He wiped the beaded sweat off his upper lip and glanced at Abraham’s calm face. “She made me promise . . . but it’s too soon. I can’t consider it.”
“You should. She asked you to promise to marry again for a reason.” The older man paused, silent for a long moment.
Abraham was right. Gideon wiped his upper lip again. Lovinia wouldn’t have asked him to marry Ruby unless she thought he needed to. Perhaps it was more that the children needed a mother rather than him needing a wife. And the children certainly needed someone like Ruby.
“Your family needs a home.”
Gideon nodded. They needed security, comfort, permanence. All things he hadn’t been able to provide for the last year or two, ever since the war had started.
“I . . . I don’t have money to buy such a large piece of land.”
“It’s a gift, son. For you and your family.”
Eyes filling, Gideon shook his head. “I can’t take it . . . I don’t deserve something like this.”
Abraham drew in his feet and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “It isn’t a question of deserving something or paying for it.”
“But if you knew . . .” Gideon stopped, his throat filling. If Abraham knew the depths of his sin, he wouldn’t even welcome him onto his porch. “You don’t know what I’ve done.” He closed his eyes. “I’m responsible for Lovinia’s death, and for our church breaking apart.” He stopped, not able to continue.
“How are you responsible? You didn’t cause Lovinia’s heart to give out. You didn’t drive the people away from your community, did you?”
“I was their shepherd. I was Lovinia’s husband. God gave them to my care and I failed.”
“Those things were out of your control.”
Gideon drew his hand over his beard as he straightened up. “But they shouldn’t have been.”
Abraham was silent for a few minutes. The sound of Lydia setting the plates on the wooden table drifted out the door.
“Be careful of pride, Gideon. Hochmut, soul-destroying pride, can be your downfall.”
Gideon shook his head. “I’m not proud. I know how sinful I am.”
“But you just told me that your life should be in your control. You told me that you’re responsible for everyone’s well-being.”
“I am.” When Abraham didn’t answer, Gideon looked at him. “Aren’t I?”
“You aren’t that powerful. Only the Good Lord himself has the kind of control you’re talking about. When you wrest that control from his grasp, that’s an act of pride that can destroy your soul.” He rubbed the palm of his right hand with his left thumb, massaging the tired muscles. “Remember to practice Gelassenheit. Letting go of your own control and surrendering to the Good Lord’s will is the only way for a man to live.”
Gideon stared at the wooden porch floor. Lydia’s voice drifted through the screen door, calling them to dinner.
Abraham stood, clapping him on the shoulder. “Consider my offer and consider marrying our Ruby. Nothing could make me happier than to have you and your children as part of our family.” He opened the door, then glanced at Gideon again. “And I’ll be able to rest well, knowing Ruby has a fine man for a husband.”
Standing to follow Abraham, Gideon glanced up the road toward the section of land. Lovinia’s suggestion . . . ne, her request that he marry Ruby weighed heavily. Was Lovinia telling him what God’s will was for their family? He only wanted to do what was right, but did that mean he should marry a woman he barely knew?
He shook his head as he followed Abraham into the house. It was too soon to think about it.
Wednesday was the full moon, ten days past midsummer. The men had been working long hours in the fields, trying to get the hay cut, dried, and in the barn before the next rainstorm. Ruby, Elizabeth, and Mamm, along with Samuel’s wife, Anna, had been hard at work too, storing the first garden vegetables and fruits for the families. After a cold supper of cottage cheese, fresh bread, and greens with vinegar dressing, the families rested in the cooler air outside the house before the men went back to the fields. There they would work until nearly dawn, taking advantage of the bright moon during the cool of the night.
Ruby sat on a quilt with Daniel. Gideon stretched out on the other side of the baby, his hat over his face.
“Katie came by the house this afternoon,” Elizabeth said. “She had a letter from Jonas.”
/> “What did he say?” Mamm sat on a chair brought from the house, her ever-present knitting in her hands.
“I wish I could read it to you, but Katie kept a close hold on it.” She laughed along with Anna. Ruby only smiled, sure that Gideon was sleeping and not wanting to wake him.
“Is he all right? Is he coming home soon for a visit?” Daed asked.
“Jonas said he is doing well. The work is keeping him busy, but he didn’t say much more about it. He only said how hard it was to see so many wounded and dying men. Most of what Katie shared with me was about how the Federals are worried that the Confederates might try to attack Washington City, where he is working.”
There was silence at this news, then Daed said, “We must always pray for his safety and for a quick ending to this terrible war.”
Daniel rattled the string of wooden beads he was playing with and Gideon lifted his hat, reaching over to pat his son on the back. Daniel crawled to him and laid his head on his father’s chest.
“Did Jonas say anything else in his letter?” Anna asked, her watchful gaze on the children’s game at the playhouse.
Elizabeth smiled. “Only private things for Katie. She didn’t let me read that part of the letter.”
Mamm laughed at that. “He had better come home soon, or Katie will find another beau.”
“I don’t think there’s much danger in that,” Ruby said. “I’ve seen the way her eyes light up whenever someone mentions his name.”
Daniel pounded on his father’s chest, and Gideon rolled over on his side, his head propped on one hand. He pulled the baby close for a kiss on his soft cheek. Ruby smiled at the sight. She had rarely witnessed such affection between a father and his children, but Gideon often hugged and kissed his little ones.
“How much of the hay is done, Abraham?” Mamm asked.
“We should finish raking it tonight, and then tomorrow afternoon we’ll start storing it in the barn, as long as it doesn’t rain.”
Daed glanced toward the northwest and Ruby followed his gaze, but the sky was almost clear. The setting sun had turned the haze on the horizon to a soft orange and twilight had descended.
Anna stood, dusting off the back of her skirt. “I must get home. It is the children’s bedtime.” She nudged Samuel’s foot with her toe. “Are Bram and Henry both going to work with you tonight?”
Samuel lifted his head and looked at the boys. Bram was sitting up, eager to get to work, but Henry had fallen asleep on the grass.
“It looks like Henry will be going home with you.”
He stood up and lifted the boy in his arms while Anna walked over to where her younger children were playing yet another game of family time. Roseanna and Sophia had convinced William and his little sister Dorcas to join in their endless imaginary world. Roseanna and William were pretending to be the parents while Sophia and the others were the children, although with the raised voices coming from the playhouse, it sounded like all of them were very tired children.
Ruby stood up and reached for Daniel. “It’s bedtime for these four too.”
Gideon stood at the same time and handed Daniel to her. “I’ll help with the older three if you take care of him. I’ve spent so much time in the fields this week that I’ve hardly seen them.”
He headed toward the playhouse while Ruby carried Daniel up to the children’s bedroom. By the time Daniel’s diaper was changed and Ruby had settled in the little rocking chair with the baby and a cup of milk, Gideon brought the other children up the stairs.
“Will you stay with us, Daed?” Sophia asked as Gideon helped her change into her nightdress.
“I have to work tonight, but I’ll stay for a few minutes.”
He turned down the covers on the bed and the children climbed in. By the time Ezra was settled between the two girls, Sophia was nearly asleep. He kissed all three foreheads, then Roseanna wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug.
Ruby put the sleeping baby in his cot, then crept out of the quiet room. The children seemed to be happy during the day while she cared for them, but Roseanna’s hug told Ruby that they craved their father’s attention in their mother’s absence. A substitute might see to their basic needs, but a parent’s love was what they really needed.
In the kitchen, Ruby put away the few dishes that Mamm had left on the sideboard to dry, then checked the sponge for tomorrow’s bread baking. From the kitchen window, she saw that Mamm, Daed, and Elizabeth still sat under the tree, slapping mosquitoes as they talked. Just when she decided she should see if Elizabeth was ready to walk home, Gideon came down the stairs.
She blew out the lamp in the center of the table as he stopped at the bottom step, his hat in his hand. The room was dark enough that she couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“I haven’t thanked you for taking care of the children so well.”
Ruby’s face grew even warmer than the hot kitchen had made it. “I’m not sure I’m doing as well as I should. Roseanna doesn’t seem to like to be around me.”
Gideon glanced up the stairs and then led her out the kitchen door to the washing porch.
“I don’t know what we can do for her other than wait.” He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, so like Roseanna’s. “Losing a mother is hard for a child, but she will get through this time of grief.” He took his hat from the hook by the door and put it on. “Meanwhile, I’m glad she has you.”
He turned to go down the steps, but Ruby grasped his sleeve, stopping him. “I’ve been thinking about the promise we made to Lovinia.”
“I have too.” He moved closer and kept his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I won’t hold you to that promise. I know how difficult—” He cleared his throat. “I think Lovinia would understand if you . . . if we didn’t go through with it.”
Ruby nodded, ignoring the sinking disappointment at his words. “I think she would too. But I want to continue to care for the children and keep at least that part of my promise to her. I was wondering if you have thought about the future. Are you going to stay here, living with Mamm and Daed? Or will you look for your own place in the area?”
“Your daed reminded me that it’s time that I made plans. After Lovinia—”
His voice broke and he looked away from her, into the growing darkness. The full moon was rising, round and glowing silvery-white.
He cleared his throat and continued. “I haven’t been able to think about the future since we left Maryland.”
Ruby laid her hand on his forearm, trying to give him some comfort. The fragrance of work, dirt, and drying hay clung to him. The smells of summer.
“I miss Lovinia too, and I think I always will. I wish we had been able to spend more time together.”
Gideon didn’t move and didn’t speak as a long, quiet moment stretched between them. “Your daed assumes that I will marry you, and soon. Your mother told him about Lovinia’s request.”
“I haven’t discussed it with anyone else, but other people will begin to wonder what your plans are. It’s common for a widower to marry sooner than later.”
“I know, and I’ve counseled other men to take that step when they’re in this situation. It only makes sense with children to care for and the demands of farming.” He sighed and put his calloused hand on top of hers. “I certainly won’t be so quick to mention it in the future, though. I can’t imagine . . .” He shook his head. “I just can’t imagine being married to anyone but Lovinia.”
Ruby’s throat was dry as she tried to swallow. This was what Lovinia had been worried about when she had asked her to take care of Gideon, but she couldn’t force the man to act against his conscience, could she? “I think I understand.”
“Abraham offered me a quarter section of land, the one next to Samuel’s.”
Ruby met his gaze. “He did? Years ago, he told me that farm would be mine.”
Gideon smiled. “I think it was a kind of wedding present, because he talked of giving it to both of us.”
“So in order to get the land, you would need to marry me.” Ruby pressed her lips together, glad that Daed wasn’t close enough for her to tell him what she thought of that proposal.
“That quarter would be welcome, and close to Elizabeth’s house and your parents.” He rubbed her hand with an absent motion. “I don’t have any money to buy it, but I suppose he might let me work it off.”
Ruby shook her head. “That wouldn’t be right for you to be indebted like that.” His hand was rough, telling of his long days of work in the fields. “I have an idea, though. If Daed has been waiting for me to marry so he could give that land to me and my future husband, perhaps he’ll give it to me now. We can fix up the house that’s there, and you can live there with the children. I’ll be able to care for the children easily, since you’ll be living so close to Elizabeth’s.”
Gideon looked toward the rising moon again, thinking. “What happens when Elizabeth’s husband comes home?”
“Then I’ll build a little cabin for myself. There are one hundred sixty acres and we should be able to share it without a problem.”
“You’re a good friend, Ruby. I may take you up on that offer.” He smiled, the moonlight striking the side of his face with a white glow. “I like the thought of being close to you. I know you love the children, and I’m happy you’ll be caring for them.”
As Gideon went on down the steps, Ruby leaned against the doorframe. For sure, the arrangement sounded simple. There would be no danger of her marrying and forcing Gideon to move off her land, since no man would have her. But if he found someone else to marry someday . . .
Ruby slapped at a mosquito. She would worry about that when the time came, but not before.
Samuel came back from his house across the road, his shadow long in the moonlight. Gideon and Daed picked up the rakes they had left leaning against a tree when they came in for supper and headed out to the hayfield with him and Bram. Gideon was tall and strong, but gentle and caring. He had a way of letting an easy silence fall in a conversation so that it invited her to share anything with him.