“Yah,” the shortest one said.
“Don’t forget to use sunblock.” She smiled as they passed.
“I was wondering where the young people are,” Natalie observed. “I’ve seen quite a few older people in the neighborhood.”
“Ah, the kids, yes.” Imogene motioned to the right. “This way, if we’re headed to the park, which we are. The teens like to spend the day at the beach, playing volleyball and soaking up the sun, something they’d never get to do in Ohio. When the weather’s good, they’re working.”
They ambled along the curving street until it dead-ended at a park, containing a sandy volleyball court, a wide expanse of lawn ending at the bank of a creek. A lineup of women in cape dresses stood along a waist-high fence, their backs to Natalie and Imogene.
“Shuffleboard court,” Imogene said. “They have some mighty fierce games here, everyone vying for the top spot.” Another cluster of men stood on one side of the lawn, engaged in an intense bocce match.
“I see.”
“You can meet everyone and they can meet you, too.” Imogene beamed. “Maybe, just maybe, someone will know your grandparents or—wouldn’t it be wonderful if they were here, in Pinecraft, right now?”
“That would be too easy.”
Imogene shrugged. “It could happen.”
A small figure approached them at a run, dark hair bouncing, little arms pumping—Zeke. He slammed into Natalie, clamping his arms around her legs.
“Zeke.” She hugged him back.
“Miss Natalie,” he said in the funny little accent. “You came to my haus?”
“I did. Your mammi gave me some of her marmalade bread.”
“It’s very gut.”
“Yes, it is. The best I’ve ever had.”
“We’re fishing, over there.” Zeke pointed toward an inlet that snaked through the park. “With my friends, the Grabers.”
Natalie looked up to see an Amish man striding toward them. He looked anything but pleased. “Did you tell them you were running over here?”
Zeke said nothing, but tugged on Natalie’s hand.
“Well, if the boy’s been fishing, we ought to go see what he’s all excited about,” said Imogene, following behind Natalie. “Hello, Earnest, we’ve collected Zeke for you.”
“I’m sorry he ran off,” Natalie said to the man with the dark beard.
“It’s not your fault.” His voice was warm. “Come, Ezekiel, James wants to show you the fish he just pulled in.”
“I like to fish,” Zeke said as he skipped along. His young little friend scampered up and the two of them chattered like a pair of squirrels.
“Stuart Graber,” the man said, shaking hands with Natalie. “You must be the circus lady Zeke has been telling us about.”
“Yes, sir.”
Imogene then launched into an explanation about Natalie, her mother, the Yoders, and Ohio. Mr. Graber nodded.
“Well, I certainly hope you find them.”
“Thank you.” Natalie smiled at Mr. Graber and Imogene. These were truly remarkable people. She wasn’t one of them, yet they were doing what they could to help her, stranger though she may be. She tried to remember the last time she’d felt so . . . at home. And couldn’t.
10
Jacob stared out the van window as the street signs flew past them. He could see how having a vehicle would speed things along, especially in a city the size of Sarasota. In Ohio, a van picked him up at the end of his driveway every morning for a ride to the cabinet factory; today, Henry’s generous offer to take Rebecca and him to her appointment was easy enough to accept.
However, the traffic whizzing by reminded him of their own speed. Part of him more than once had wished to own a car, a Mustang in candy apple red. He’d put such wishes to rest long ago and instead, had been baptized into the Ordnung, married Hannah, and taken the job at the cabinet shop. But the other day he’d heard the roar of a similar vehicle, and the memory came back.
He glanced at his daughter, who was buckled into the seat behind him. She’d managed to maneuver herself so her casted leg lay stretched out on the seat. She’d also fallen asleep.
Poor little kind. She’d cried during the exam when the orthopedic doctor explained one more time the cast was not coming off anytime soon. Next step, if x-ray results permitted, she’d be moved to a removable cast. But that was weeks away.
She needed the comfort of a mamm, her own mamm, and that was not to be.
Gotte, I’m doing my best. If I could take her pain, I would.
The older his children got, the more he knew there were some pains he couldn’t carry. Also, he was still learning to bear his own burdens.
“Next traffic light, Kaufman,” announced Henry Hostetler. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll stop at Big Olaf’s. Maybe a small cup of ice cream will set things right with your young one.”
“Maybe.” He should have had someone else take them. But Henry had insisted, saying their supplies for the new roofing job weren’t coming in until tomorrow, so him keeping busy was far better than sitting at home bemoaning the slow delivery of supplies.
Jacob was accustomed to pitching in and giving a hand where needed. But this, being on the receiving end constantly, was tiring to him. He refused to chalk it up to pride, but there it was. Gotte forgive him, but he was a proud man, able to give, reluctant to receive.
“Will Zeke be starting school here in Pinecraft?”
“Yes, but I don’t think he’ll want to go. My mammi is going to help Rebecca with her lessons at home for now, but Zeke will start school here in Pinecraft, at the Mennonite school.” Which was another bit of news he had to break to his son. If only he could help Zeke out of his shell.
Hannah had been concerned as well, since Rebecca did most of the talking for both of them. Zeke had started his first year of school back in Ohio and Jacob wanted to minimize the interruption of Florida.
Ever since late December, they’d had one interruption after the other, ever since the accident. He glanced back at Rebecca again, who yawned and stirred.
“My leg hurts, Daed.”
“Ice cream, Miss Rebecca?” Henry looked into the rearview mirror.
She shook her head. “No thank you, Mr. Hostetler.”
The girl really was tired, refusing ice cream. “We can just go home, Henry,” Jacob said.
Instead of turning left at the light for Big Olaf’s, Henry nodded and took a right, heading for the Millers’ home.
Home. It had always been his grandparents’ winter home, now their full-time residence. Now it was partly his home, too. Henry stopped the van behind a familiar-looking sedan. Natalie’s.
“Oh, before I forget, your first paycheck.” Henry pulled his wallet from his back pocket, opened it, and took out a folded piece of paper. “I’ll be here at seven-thirty tomorrow to pick you up.”
“Thank you.” Jacob received the check without looking at it. Next thing, to open a bank account while he was here. “All right, Rebecca, let’s get your chair out, then get you tucked back in bed.” He exited the van and set up the folding wheelchair. Amazing, how quickly he could do it now, almost second nature.
Rebecca put her arms around his neck as he scooped her from the back seat of the van and deposited her onto the wheelchair’s seat. “Ow.” She bit her lip. The therapist had warned she might have some extra soreness, but it was important for Rebecca to continue her range of motion as much as she could.
“Miss Natalie’s car is here.” It was the first time all day Rebecca sounded happy about something. “I wonder if she brought more oranges.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Jacob paused at the curb. “Thank you, again, Henry. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Bright and early, early and bright.” Henry waved before climbing into his van.
Jacob tried not to jostle the wheelchair too much as he wrangled it up the drive, then around the rear bumper of Natalie’s car, and up the sidewalk.
His g
randmother opened the front door. “I thought I heard a vehicle out front. How did our Rebecca do?”
“According to the therapist, she did well.” He smiled down at his daughter.
“It hurt.”
“Next week, crutches.”
Mammi held the door open, and Jacob maneuvered the wheelchair into the living room. Just when he thought he’d figured out how best to get Rebecca around in the contraption without bumping into things, or catching on a bit of sidewalk or other tiny yet aggravating obstacle, he’d realized how this was beyond his skill level.
He nearly dumped Rebecca onto the hardwood floor. “Daed!” She gripped the armrests of the wheelchair and braced herself with her good leg.
“Sorry.” Once clearing the final hurdle, he stopped her at the hospital bed. Really, the monstrosity didn’t belong in the living room and he should have told his grandparents to refuse the delivery. There was a phone number, somewhere, for the medical equipment company. He’d have to borrow Henry’s phone tomorrow and ask them to pick the thing up.
“Tomorrow,” he announced as he deposited Rebecca onto her bed, “we will send the bed back. Do you think you can stay in your bed here?”
“I think so.”
He tried not to let his gaze wander toward the kitchen, but it slid there anyway.
“Natalie is out walking with Imogene,” Mammi announced. “Imogene is trying to help her find her family.”
“They’re in Pinecraft?” The words sounded almost silly to his ears.
“Now, wouldn’t that be providential?” His grandmother helped Rebecca adjust the quilt over her bare, uncasted leg. “I was thinking Imogene might know someone who knows her family.”
“She definitely seems to know everyone in the village.” The idea of interviewing so many people made his brain tired. Asking the same questions, over and over. Better her than him. “I do hope she can find them.”
“Next week, we’re going to quilt. Or, rather, she is, but she doesn’t know it yet.” Mammi motioned to the kitchen. “Lunch is almost ready, for whoever wants it.”
Jacob followed his grandmother, feeling thirteen instead of thirty-one. Ah, to be young again when things were much simpler. But then, his young ones hadn’t had things very simply for the last nearly two years.
If you follow the immediate path in front of you, things can be simple again.
Grief wasn’t a simple addition to life, no matter how much they spoke about it, adding sweet Scriptures to help deaden the pain. Only, the bitterness remained underneath. To speak of questioning Gotte’s wille bordered on blasphemy. To question if Hannah’s virtues had been enough to see her through to an eternal reward, well, he knew he wasn’t supposed to wonder about such things. His own threat to leave years ago, echoed in his ears.
“Why obey Gotte if there is no guarantee it will be good enough to please Him?” He hushed his thoughts and focused on lunch instead, and realized his stomach growled.
Simple sandwiches, fresh lemonade, sliced and salted garden vegetables made up their lunch spread. Fresh vegetables, and not from a jar full of what his sister-in-law had put up from the summer before, as they would be eating if they were in Ohio right now. The colorful produce came from only a block over at Yoder’s market. He let himself smile at this luxury in the winter.
A ruckus in the living room followed by voices made Jacob turned in the direction of the noises. Words like “fish” and “alligator” and “Natalie” followed by a stream of Pennsylvania Dutch drifted into the kitchen. Then came laughter.
Zeke bounded into the kitchen. “Daed, I went to the park and went fishing with the Grabers and we saw an alligator and Miss Natalie and she said she would help me get the fish ready to eat.” All of this came in Dutch, with Zeke holding a string of fish, the tail of the lowest fish dragging on Mammi’s kitchen floor.
Then Natalie rounded the corner. Her eyes widened and she stopped short. “Jacob.” She smiled, her cheeks flushed. Then she cast a glance at Zeke. “We’ll have to see if your great-grandmother has a fillet knife we can use. But outside. And, of course, if it’s okay with your father.” She turned her focus back to Jacob. “Unless you’d rather do it?”
She was talking to him.
“Oh, I’ve never filleted a fish before,” he admitted. “Just, ah, take care with the knife.”
“Of course, we will.”
“Yes, Daed, we will.” Zeke beamed.
Imogene joined them for lunch, and spent the time telling them all about who was supposed to be arriving on the bus tomorrow and Thursday. She heard there was going to be a concert on Friday night at the park, but didn’t see the point if it was the night before the Haiti auction, maybe no one would come, although couldn’t even a few people make a joyful noise?
“I thought your daadi would be here by now,” Mammi said during a lull in the conversation, while Imogene snacked on some sliced tomatoes.
“There were a bunch of men playing bocce. It looked like a pretty intense game.” Natalie wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I think I saw him there when Imogene and I arrived at the park.”
His grandmother nodded. “I try not to wonder when he’s out and about during lunchtime. Some days, I’m just not up to it.”
“Mammi, are you feeling well?” Jacob studied her face, wrinkled with years and her strong, but slim hands with their papery-thin skin.
“I’m fine. Some days eighty-five feels older than others.” She smiled at him. “Don’t you worry. Your grandfather and I will be keeping house here for years to come.”
A knock sounded at the front door. Mammi waved Jacob back to a seated position. “I’ll get the door.”
They continued their meal until a cry made the hair on the back of Jacob’s neck stand up.
“Jacob!”
Natalie knew grief, the kind of grief you prepared yourself for. She’d had months and months while Mom fought her last battle with cancer, then succumbed to the illness. Natalie thanked God for those precious times at her mother’s bedside. Even though she knew grief would follow, she had the chance to say goodbye. Her only regret now, Mom hadn’t ever told her about the other side of her family.
But if Mom had, maybe Natalie wouldn’t be here now, sitting at a newspaper-covered picnic table in the Millers’ backyard with little Zeke, while the rest of the house filled up with Amish and Mennonites of all kinds. Isaiah Miller had collapsed at Pinecraft Park this afternoon and no one could revive him.
“He’s dead.” Zeke sniffled and looked at the fish in front of him. “Just like daadi. And my mamm.” At first, when he’d arrived back from the park, he’d begged Natalie to take him outside where they could see to cleaning the fish. And at first, Natalie had thought it would be a good distraction for the little guy.
The open windows released the sound of voices into the yard, some in hushed tones, others not quite so discreet.
“Dropped dead, right at the end of the bocce match.”
“Heart attack,” someone else said.
“Did anyone call back to Ohio? The family still has a chance to board the bus.”
“The bus is already on its way here. They’ll have to hire a van to get here if there’s to be a funeral this week.”
Natalie focused her attention back on Zeke. “Everything, everyone dies, Zeke. Sometimes we know when, and sometimes we don’t.”
“Did you know when your maam would die?”
“She was very sick, with cancer. So, yes, I knew it was coming.”
“Mammi didn’t know daadi was going to die today.”
“No, she didn’t.” Natalie swallowed and brushed aside her own tears. She hadn’t known the man well at all, but she was fond of Rachel, and the children—fond of them all, really. “We must pray for her and help her all we can.”
The once-merry lunch provided the basis for a smorgasbord of food from neighbors, which was followed by more food from fellow mourners.
“I don’t think I want to clean the fish now.”
“You should,” came Jacob’s voice. “It would be wasteful not to.”
Natalie looked over her shoulder at Jacob, his voice heavy with grief. His eyes were red as he gazed down at his son. She stood and moved closer to him, then placed her hand on his arm.
“Jacob, I am so sorry about your grandfather.”
He studied her hand on his arm, then covered it with one of his own. Somehow, much of the air disappeared from the backyard as if a giant vacuum switched on. Natalie wanted to say more, but Jacob found his voice first. “There was nothing you or anyone could do. Gotte decided it was time for his days here to be ended.”
She could feel strength in his warm hand, and tried to remove her hand from his arm. His own hand pressed harder. “He . . . he lived a full life, and I wish I’d had the chance to know him more.”
One corner of Jacob’s mouth drew up in half a smile. “He left this life as he wished. He never—” Jacob cleared his throat “—never wanted to grow old and be a burden to anyone.”
“What hurts my heart is to think of your grandmother . . .”
A flash of color entering the backyard caught the corner of Natalie’s vision.
“Jacob, I came as soon as I heard,” said Betsy Yoder.
Natalie’s hand felt cold when Jacob released it and turned to face Betsy. If she’d been working today, Natalie couldn’t tell, from the young woman’s fresh-looking apron and robin’s egg blue cape dress. Her hair, smoothed back into its customary bun, didn’t bear the signs of a woman cleaning houses.
Betsy only blinked, but studied Natalie’s clothes. Capris and a t-shirt and flip-flops. She was nearly as covered up as Betsy, although her neckline was scooped wider than Betsy’s narrow and high one.
Jacob nodded, then turned and ruffled Zeke’s hair. “Now, let Natalie show you how to clean the fish. It will do my heart good tonight to eat something you caught for me.”
Natalie wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she knew he’d given her a long glance as he headed toward Betsy. She reminded herself once again she wouldn’t put herself between Jacob and the most suitable choice of Betsy Yoder.
But he’d called her Natalie. She’d never heard her name roll off his tongue before.
A Season of Change Page 10