A Season of Change

by Lynette Sowell

  “There’s the boat.” He pointed to a small flat-bottomed boat, shorter than a canoe, drifting on the water. Something pink peeked from the top.

  “Rebecca!” Natalie called, charging toward the creek bank. She skidded to a stop when she saw a dark mottled shape in the water, not a dozen feet from the opposite side of the creek.

  “Rebecca’s in the boat?”

  “I think so, Zeke.” Natalie grabbed her phone and dialed Henry.

  “Did you find her?” he asked, without preliminaries.

  “She’s in a boat here on the creek, stuck by some alligators.” Natalie glanced over her shoulder. “Go past the boat landing and take the path.”

  “I know right where you are.”

  Natalie ended the call. “Rebecca, if you can hear me, wave your hand.”

  She heard the sound of sobbing, and a slim hand emerged over the edge of the boat. “Natalie . . . Daed!”

  “Daed’s on the way,” Zeke called out. “And Mr. Hostetler.”

  Then another alligator emerged from the grass on the other side of the creek. It appeared not to care much about the boat, mere feet away, where it was stuck in the crook of a bent log. The animal slipped into the cool waters of the creek, and disappeared.

  The crashing of brush in the woods behind them made Natalie look over her shoulder again. “She’s over here. In the boat.”

  Both Henry and Jacob joined them at the creek bank.

  “People take this path to see the toothy scaled fellers, safely, of course,” said Henry. “I’m not going to ask how your daughter found herself a rowboat and got stuck.”

  “How can we get her over to this side?” Jacob paced the creek bank. “There must be something handy we can use to pull the boat in this direction.”

  “I can look for a long stick,” Zeke offered.

  “You’ll stay right with Natalie,” Jacob said.

  “Yes, Daed.” He hung his head.

  “Rebecca, do you have a rope in the boat?” Henry called out.

  “Yes,” came her thin voice.

  “Get the rope, and sit up slowly,” Henry said. “What I want you to do is throw the end of the rope toward us, as hard as you can. Don’t worry if it hits the water, we’ll grab it somehow and pull you to shore.”

  “Okay.” Rebecca sat up in the boat, her face wet with tears and smudged with dirt, her hair fuzzy from working its way out of a braid. She clutched the rope with her right hand, bit her lip, and threw. It splashed into the water, not six feet from their side of the creek.

  Jacob plunged into the water, sinking up to his chest, his teeth gritted. Natalie tried not to scream as the dozing alligator began to move, slowly, silently in their direction. Henry followed Jacob, and grabbed onto the back of Jacob’s suspenders as he clung to the end of the rope.

  Together, the men pulled the boat free of the log, away from the curious alligator. Natalie sank to the creek bank. Her pulse hammered in her chest.

  Zeke clung to her. “I thought the alligator wanted to eat Daed.”

  “I think he just wanted to be left alone.”

  With the small rowboat, minus oars, now half on the creek bank, Jacob lost no time in scooping up Rebecca in his arms.

  He muttered a stream of Pennsylvania Dutch, some of it terse and some of it soft, and Henry laid his hand on Jacob’s shoulder.

  “She’s had a good scare and a sharp lesson from this, I think.”

  Rebecca was sobbing, murmuring back to her father. “Miss Natalie found me.” She reached in Natalie’s direction, and Jacob set her on the ground. She hobbled to Natalie, and threw her arms around Natalie’s neck.

  “I was so scared. I wanted to fish, so I got some fishing things, and borrowed the rowboat. Nobody came for it, but then I lost the oars and got stuck. Then I saw the alligators and got scared, so I laid down in the boat so they couldn’t see me. I yelled, but nobody heard me.” The words poured out, punctuated with hiccups. “And I knew I couldn’t get my cast wet.”

  “Well, you’re safe now.” Natalie glanced up to see Jacob looking down at them. “You had us all scared. There are people all over the village, searching for you.”

  “I—I’m sorry.” Rebecca hung her head.

  “Thank you,” Jacob said. He touched Natalie’s shoulder, his hand still wet from the creek.

  “Of course,” Natalie said. She nodded at him, seeing tears in his eyes. “I—I love your children, Jacob.”

  “I know you do.” He touched her cheek with his thumb.

  Henry cleared his throat, and Jacob lowered his hand. Natalie’s face burned.

  Today could have ended much, much worse. They fetched Rebecca’s crutches as well as her catch of fish and her equipment from the boat.

  “I’ll see who owns the boat,” Henry said. “They shouldn’t have left it lying around.”

  Jacob nodded. “Rebecca should have known better as well to use something that didn’t belong to her.” He carried her to the edge of the woods. When Rebecca started to open her mouth, he continued with, “I don’t care if you planned to bring it back.”

  “Wait here,” Henry said as he walked away. “I’ll borrow a golf cart to get us all back to the house.”

  More murmurings between father and daughter in their language, but Natalie didn’t need an interpreter to know that Rebecca was in a heap of trouble. Then, in English, they talked about replacing the oars she’d lost in the creek.

  Henry returned with a golf cart a scant ten minutes later. Zeke asked to sit on the front seat, which left the back seat for Jacob, Rebecca, and Natalie.

  Natalie didn’t realize until they took their seats how cozy the cushion was. Jacob put his arm behind them to help prop Rebecca up. It felt warm and family-like.

  Henry dropped them off at the house, with cheers and cries of relief, and a sheepish-looking Rebecca was bundled into the house and straight to the bathroom where Rachel would help the little girl clean up.

  The crowd dispersed, not a few of them with questions in their eyes about Natalie, with Zeke clinging to her hand like a lifeline.

  “You’re staying for supper,” Jacob said. His tone surprised her; he was making a statement, not asking her.

  “Well yes, I guess I am. If you insist.”

  “I insist.”

  19

  Rebecca fell asleep over her supper plate, her nose and cheeks tinted red from her nap in the sun that afternoon. Jacob laid his fork on the table.

  “I should put her in bed,” he said to Mammi and Natalie. She was a bit hard to lift, especially with the weight of her cast.

  “Daed, I’m sorry,” she murmured as he lifted her from the chair.

  “Time to sleep now.” He voice caught at the recollection of her little form inside the rowboat. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  “Do I have to go to the doctor?”

  “Yes, in the morning.” It was another follow-up with the neurologist and a stop at the physical therapist’s office; two appointments in one morning. He wondered what the therapist would say at the idea of Rebecca crossing a busy street, making it all the way to the park, and negotiating a boat, all while wearing a cast and walking with crutches.

  He laid her on her bed, tucking the blankets around her. They’d missed their Bible lesson tonight, with all the goings-on. Perhaps tomorrow night’s time would be best devoted to keeping out of trouble and being obedient.

  When he emerged from the room, closing the door behind him, he reentered the kitchen to find Mammi had cleared the table and Natalie was pouring kaffi. The young woman’s presence in the kitchen was both natural and unsettling. He could have never imagined this at their first meeting on Christmas night, months ago.

  She poured him a cup without asking how he drank it. Mammi glanced from Natalie, then to him, but said nothing. Her raised eyebrows said enough.

  He should give his grandmother an explanation, but not tonight. He settled back to his chair and picked up his cup of coffee.

  “I’m
thankful to God that today ended as it did,” said Mammi. She moved to the sink and turned on the hot water.

  “I can do the dishes, Rachel,” Natalie said.

  “No, sit, sit.” Mammi waved Natalie away. “I heard you had an encounter with a fish hook. You were also a big help today already.”

  “Zeke was the one who found the boat.” Natalie poured herself a cup of coffee and took her place at the end of the table. Zeke had already fallen asleep, the events of the day having worn him out.

  “I have a feeling our time here is coming to an end, before too long,” Jacob heard himself announce. “With what happened today, Rebecca’s shown how strong she is. Truly, she would have never done anything like this back home.”

  “Home.” Mammi stacked the silverware and cups into the soapy water. Tonight they’d eaten on paper plates, something they never did in Ohio. “I keep reminding myself you’re not here permanently.”

  “The neurologist was pleased with her progress, and probably will be more so once he hears how much she’s done.” Jacob sipped the strong coffee. He glanced at Natalie, whose expression he couldn’t quite discern.

  Natalie nodded. “She definitely got where she wanted to go. I’m sure her physical therapist will be happy.”

  “I’m sure.” Jacob shook his head. “She would have never run off and done something like this at home. Sometimes I wonder, what am I going to do?” He found himself surprisingly relaxed in Natalie’s presence, his words pouring out to her and his grandmother.

  “You will do like your father did, and his father before him.” Mammi wiped her hands on a dishtowel and joined them at the table. “You will find wise counsel and you will raise both Rebecca and her brother according to the Scriptures.”

  “The Scriptures don’t talk about seven-year-olds who leave the house without permission, alone, crossing a busy street . . .” Every horrible possibility flashed through Jacob’s mind. “All that, in a cast and on crutches.”

  “Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction will drive it out,” Mammi quoted.

  “I think she’s received plenty of rod today, with that alligator scare,” Jacob said. He recalled plenty of spankings as a youngster and the ones he’d given to his own were sparse.

  “See how she is in the morning,” said Mammi.

  “I can’t believe she did all this, too. Her walking cast comes off for good next week.” Jacob looked at the wall calendar. “Sometimes it feels like we’ve always been here. Maybe the city’s been a worse influence than I imagined.”

  “Well, I’ve grown used to all of you being here,” Mammi said. “Those kinner can get into plenty of trouble in Ohio.”

  Jacob nodded. “True.” He glanced at Natalie, who’d remained silent during the exchange. “So, how comes the quilt?” He’d rather discuss something else besides wayward children.

  “It’s turning out more beautiful than I imagined.” Natalie studied her coffee cup.

  “The quilt should be finished soon,” Mammi said.

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll start another quilt one day, this time starting from the very beginning.” Natalie smiled at his grandmother.

  “You purchase the fabric, and I’ll help you get started.” Mammi’s face brightened. “I’m not sure what I’ll do with all my extra time, once the family has gone. I’m sure I will find something to keep myself occupied.”

  Once she was left with an empty house, and reminders of her life with Daadi, is what she really meant. “Us being here has been a blessing in disguise, I think,” Jacob managed to say. “I know the rest of the family wouldn’t have wanted you to be here alone, so soon.”

  “I know.” Mammi rinsed the silverware, setting it into the dish drainer. “But going to Ohio is out of the question. Pinecraft is my home, has been for years. I’ll have to adjust to life without my Isaiah. Gotte will help me.”

  Gotte would have to help with adjusting—all of them.

  “You’re finished,” Rachel announced. She watched as Natalie tied off the last stitch of the quilt binding.

  “You know, I could have sewn this binding on with an electric machine.” Natalie thought she’d tease the older woman, just a little.

  “Nonsense. What you do on future quilts is your business, but this one is special.” Rachel ran her wrinkled hands over the fabric. “You did well. Your mother, or her family at least, would be proud.”

  “Thank you.” Natalie surveyed the finished quilt, more than large enough to cover her double bed. She hadn’t thought about what do with it yet. It didn’t really match her bedroom décor. But she could change all that. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it.”

  “Use it, put it on a rack so your guests can see what you have done, or you could donate it to charity.” Rachel paused. “Although, you probably ought not to donate this one.”

  “I don’t think I could.” It was one of the last ties to her mother. “I’m happy I was able to finish what she started.”

  Someone banged on the front door, so Rachel rose to answer it, leaving Natalie to study the tiny stitches. Truthfully, Rachel had completed a chunk of the work. She’d have given up on it, if left to quilt the top on her own. It helped to have the older woman’s supervision and stitching.

  “I heard someone was finishing her first quilt.” It was Imogene. “I should get some pictures of you with it.”

  “Oh, okay.” Natalie raised her hands to smooth her hair. “I just tied the last thread a few minutes ago.”

  Imogene raised her camera and snapped a few shots. “It’s pretty. Do you mind if I post the pictures online?”

  “Not at all,” Natalie said.

  “All those online shenanigans.” Rachel eased back down onto her chair. “I don’t know about that. I like keeping in touch with family like I hear some do online with that ‘e-mail,’ but I’ve heard of places called web sites—practically the devil’s playground.”

  “You’re right, there’s plenty of evil to be found online,” Natalie said. “Plenty of good, too.”

  “Well, I’d rather keep away from all of it.”

  Imogene nodded. “I like writing about Pinecraft. People like to hear about us.” But Natalie noticed none of her photo shots included Rachel.

  “It’s a special place.” Natalie tapped the quilt top. “Ladies, I would like to do something to celebrate finishing my quilt. Lunch at Yoder’s, my treat?”

  “Well, I don’t know . . .” Rachel sounded doubtful.

  “Come with us,” Imogene said. “You never know who you’ll run into.”

  “Or, if you’d rather go to Emma’s Pizza, we can do that instead,” Natalie offered. Maybe Rachel didn’t like crowds.

  They ended up taking the walk to the pizza shop, with Rachel encountering several friends along the way. Natalie was used to the stroll by now. If you hurried through the neighborhood, you might miss someone. Friends were full of questions about Rebecca, how she fared after her scare with the boat and the alligator, and what would kinner find to get into next?

  A few year-round residents were out and about as well, and the older woman was beaming by the time they reached the pizza shop.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had her pizza,” Rachel observed as they entered the snug restaurant, which only had outdoor seating.

  “Never had her pizza?” Imogene echoed. “It’s good, very good.”

  “It’s a pretty enough day for us to eat outside, too,” Natalie said as she surveyed the menu. “Should we order a whole pizza? If we don’t eat it all, Jacob and the children will probably eat the rest.”

  “Sweet of you, to think of them,” Rachel said. “Many a time I wish you were Amish, or Mennonite, at the very least.”

  Natalie waited to respond until after the woman at the counter took their order for a large pepperoni pizza. “Oh, really? Please, pick out whatever you ladies would like to drink.”

  “Yes, I do.” Rachel ambled over to the glass-doored case that contained soft
drinks of all brands. “I think I’ll have a root beer. You know, I always used to think it had ‘beer’ in it, from the name. It took a lot of convincing to make me believe otherwise.” She chuckled at herself.

  “Let’s get a table outside.” Natalie knew the older woman had plenty of energy, but she didn’t want to overtire her. “I’ll see about the pizza in a few minutes.”

  They went back into the sunshine, and Imogene paused. “I’m going to head to the post office to check my mail, if you don’t mind. I’ll be right back. I think the mail has come already for the day.”

  Natalie realized she ought to check her mailbox as well. It had become a daily practice for her. “I’ll wait until after lunch, unless you don’t mind checking for me.”

  “I can ask the postmistress.”

  “Thank you,” Natalie said, as Imogene headed off, away from the outdoor patio. She turned to face Rachel. “So, sometimes you wish I were Amish, or Mennonite.”

  “I see how Jacob looks at you. He cares for you, but there is that barrier.”

  Natalie nodded. “If I said I didn’t care for him, I’d be lying. But, I’m not Amish. My mother was, and she left. I can’t imagine someone like her being meek, wearing a cape dress and head covering, living on a farm, or working in a quilt shop. Her personality seemed too—too big. I’m not sure if that’s the right word.”

  “We all make our own choices.” Rachel popped the top of her soda can. “Her choices aren’t yours. Besides, meek doesn’t mean weak, either. I submitted to Isaiah for years, but he never treated me as though I were lesser than him. I was his helpmate, and he the provider. Amish marriages aren’t perfect, either.”

  “I don’t know how much I could change myself for someone else, either.”

  “Ach, I think he cares for you just the way you are.” Rachel sighed. “Sometimes, though, there are compromises people can make. How do some people say it? Meeting in the middle?”

  “Here’s your pizza,” the woman from the pizza shop said as she approached their table. The scent of melted cheese drifted on the breeze.