A Perfect Square

by Vannetta Chapman

  “I’m curious. Why would you say the deceased was his friend?”

  Once again Gavin glanced from Reuben to Shane. This time his military training took over though. He clasped his hands behind his back, posture perfect, and limited his response to the bare facts. “Because when I was here last Saturday, I saw them coming out of the main house together.”

  Chapter 8

  SAMUEL COULD ACTUALLY SEE better once darkness fell.

  The Englischers had set up large lights around the pond, mounted on poles and the tops of their vehicles. Harsh and unnatural, they cast everything in a ghoulish brightness. Giant shadows leapt across the water as the Englischers moved west to east, working the net — throwing it into the water, allowing it to sink, then dragging it toward the other end. It wasn’t a fishing net, that much was certain. He wondered what they hoped to find in the deep water among the fish and turtles of the pond, which was surrounded by the wildflowers Katie had found so lovely.

  Katie’s body remained in the ambulance.

  He’d watched them place it into a dark bag, zip the bag closed, then place it on a wheeled stretcher.

  As if they could take her in the ambulance to their hospital and make her well.

  As if they could fix all that had gone wrong.

  As if they could turn the clock back …

  “It seems real, now that we have the official papers.” Katie clutched the envelope with their legal papers allowing them to marry in her hands, scooted closer to him in the open air buggy.

  “It is real.” Samuel hunched over the reins as he drove the buggy slowly away from town, back toward her father’s farm.

  “Can you believe it though? Less than a week and we’ll be man and wife. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for a long time, Samuel. Since the first day you came to work for my dat.”

  Samuel did smile then, there was no helping it. “You’re telling me you knew over a year ago that we would fall in lieb?”

  “I didn’t know for certain, but I knew that you were a gut man. I could tell by the way you shook hands and the way you set to work. A woman notices these things. “

  A scowl replaced the smile as Samuel thought of his younger self. He’d been so sure he could work hard and make progress on Timothy’s farm in one year. But like most things in his life, it seemed that God or fate had been dead set against him. When the rains had come, they’d nearly flooded the crops. The southern fields had needed replanting, and the harvest had been late. The work was too much for two men, but Timothy refused to hire additional workers, refused to even ask for help from among the local brethren.

  Things were different here than they had been in Pennsylvania. Perhaps he’d been wrong to move here alone, but the memories back home had been painful after his daed’s death. Then his mamm had remarried, and Samuel knew he needed to leave. He’d thought starting over would set things right. Meeting Katie had offered him his first glimmer of hope.

  Where was his hope now?

  A year later he was doing the same chores Timothy had assigned him when he’d first come. The man refused to trust him with more responsibility. He felt as if he were treated like a boy just out of eighth grade rather than a man.

  Nineteen years old and he was still living in the little room back behind the barn. Next week would bring few changes. He’d be allowed to sleep in the house, with Katie, but their room would be small with very little privacy. The other rooms were all brimming with Katie’s five younger sisters.

  Seeing an Englisch rest area ahead on the road, he pulled the buggy over into it.

  “Is there a problem with the mare?” Katie asked, concern coloring her voice.

  “No, it’s not that.” Samuel secured the horse, helped Katie out of the buggy, and commenced pacing.

  “What is it? You’re not having second thoughts are you?”

  “I would never have second thoughts about marrying you. How could you think that? Are you going to question my every move?” His anger spiked, and he felt the desire to punch something, anything. The weeks had slipped past like a noose settling around his neck. He had to think of a way to fix this, and he could only think of one. Pulling in a deep breath, he pushed the anger down, forced a smile on his face. “Katie, darling, do you love me?”

  “You know I do. Samuel, what’s wrong?”

  “And do you trust me?” He sat beside her at a picnic table, pulled her hands into his, and rubbed his thumbs over her fingers, which had grown cold.

  “Of course I trust you.”

  “I want us to go north, to marry there. I want to work in the RV factories near Shipshe.”

  “But — “

  “Hear me out. I have a delivery to make for your dat tomorrow. Tell your mamm you want to ride along. Tell her you want to visit your aenti for a couple of days. Doesn’t she live in Middlebury?”

  “Ya, but— “

  “We’ll see your aenti but you won’t stay there. That will give us time to marry. I’ve asked some friends, and we can do it with these papers.” He touched the envelope that she still clutched, the one they had signed for in town. It was to be used at their wedding, in Goshen, next week. It was to be used with the bishop.

  “An Amish wedding?”

  “No. You’re not listening!” Samuel stood again and resumed pacing.

  “You want us to marry outside the church?”

  “God will understand. Katie, there is no other way that I can see. Your father is a hard man — “

  “My father is a gut man.”

  “He is that.” Samuel stopped in front of her, rubbed at the headache pulsing in his temples. “But he sees the old ways and no other. He doesn’t remember what it’s like to be our age. He doesn’t remember how it feels to be young, to be starting a family. He clings so hard to the old that he won’t even accept the changes the bishop allows. It’s why your life is so hard. Why your mamm struggles so with the work and your schweschdern.”

  “He loves us,” Katie whispered.

  Samuel waited ten seconds, then twenty. Waited until she raised her gaze to his. “Ya, I know he does. I love you too, and I believe you love me.”

  When she nodded, he continued. “Go north with me. We’ll marry there, among the Englischers. I have Mennonite freinden in the factories who will help us to get started. Amish folk as well — there’s a man my mamm knows. He’ll let us stay with him for a few days. We won’t be alone, and it will actually help your family to have two less mouths to feed.”

  “How will dat work the fields alone?”

  “He’ll be forced to accept the community’s help. It’s what he should have done long ago. “

  She looked away for a moment, across the trees that surrounded the parking area. “There is a community where we would go?”

  “Amish and Mennonite. You know this. It’s not as if we’re going to Chicago. I give you my word. They’re gut people. I’ve met them before when I delivered things for your dat.”

  Katie nodded once, and though tears escaped from both eyes, she glanced at him and smiled slightly. With that smile, Samuel released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “We’ll send word to your parents within the week, so they won’t worry.”

  “All right, Samuel. I don’t believe you’d suggest this if you hadn’t thought it through carefully.”

  “We’ll leave tomorrow?”

  “Ya, tomorrow.” She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them once, then stood and pulled him back toward the buggy.

  Chapter 9

  DEBORAH CHECKED THE PINS holding up Martha’s long brown hair as her daughter lined up the lunch pails on the counter. She’d done a good job of fastening on her kapp but needed help with the back, where it was difficult for her to see or reach. “There. It’ll hold nicely now.”

  “Danki. How did you ever learn to do it yourself?”

  “Practice. And it helps when your arms grow a bit. Did you remember to add the raisin cookies we had left over from last night?”

/>   “I did. I even gave the boys an extra one each. Have you noticed how they’re hungry all the time?”

  “Ya. That was good thinking on your part.”

  “Maybe something’s wrong with them, Mamm. Joseph and Jacob had seconds at dinner. Last year they grumbled about stew, but this year they ate more than I did, and I’m four years older than they are.”

  Deborah smiled at her ten-year-old as she heard the boys clambering at the backdoor.

  “Boys are different,” she said.

  “Is that why they like being dirty?”

  Turning to look at her twins, Deborah closed her eyes for a moment. Maybe when she opened them again, the boys would be clean. Clean, like they’d been when she’d sent them out with Jonas an hour ago.

  Opening her eyes, she shook her head, and Joseph and Jacob froze — each with one hand on the back of a chair.

  “What did we do — “

  “This time?”

  “You’re filthy,” Deborah answered.

  “Huh?” The word came out from both of them at the exact same moment, in the exact same pitch, with equal innocence.

  “Look down.”

  They did and seemed to realize for the first time that their pants were covered in hay and mud, their hands were filthy, and yes … as they felt in their hair, it, too, had managed to get hay in it.

  “Get as much of that mud and hay off as possible and then head upstairs.”

  “But we’re hungry.” Joseph smiled so that his freckles popped across the bridge of his nose.

  “And we did all of our chores.” Jacob was her serious child. He appealed to reason every time. He was also a hair taller than his twin brother, but who knew if that would last until November. They’d turned six a month ago and seemed to be growing faster than the crops Jonas had begun to harvest.

  “Ask Dat,” Joseph added.

  “That they did,” Jonas agreed, coming in the backdoor and washing his hands at the sink in the mudroom. “I believe the problem came with the game of chase after their chores.”

  “It wasn’t chase exactly,” Joseph said, looking down at his hands — covered front and back with dirt — as if they’d betrayed him.

  Jacob reached over and pushed his brother’s hands down and out of sight, then stuck his own in his pockets. “We were keeping a box of turtles in the back of the last stall.”

  “Turtles?” Deborah reached for her kaffi.

  “Ya. We were afraid they might not do well in the creek. What with the cold weather and all.” Joseph nudged Jacob.

  “But somehow they escaped from the box, and when I opened the stall, they scampered out of the stall too.”

  “I was feeding the pigs, like Dat asked.” Joseph smiled again, freckles spreading.

  “Turtles move faster than you’d think. Don’t know why they’d head to the pigpen.”

  “Seems like the smell would keep them away.”

  Both boys fell silent, either considering the pickle they were in or contemplating the wonders of turtles. Deborah honestly couldn’t have guessed — with those two it was an even chance either way.

  “I’m sure the turtles appreciate your care, but you can’t go to school dirty. Now pick off that hay, head upstairs to change your clothes, and clean up. Tonight you’ll have to soak and hang those dirty clothes yourself.” Deborah turned back to the stove and poured Jonas a mug of kaffi.

  His fingers brushed hers as he accepted it, reminding her of the moments they’d shared before the day’s work had begun. The memory stirred a warmth deep within her, helped her to keep some perspective regarding the two imps standing in front of her.

  “But we were going to build the turtles a better box tonight.” Joseph shifted from one foot to another.

  “I even had planned a ramp that would allow them to get more exercise.”

  “Don’t argue with your mamm.” Jonas sat down at the table and began heaping food on his plate.

  “What about breakfast?” Joseph asked.

  “I’ll put some muffins in your lunch pail. You can eat them as we walk to school.” Martha turned and began wrapping muffins in dishcloths. “And if I help with the clothes, maybe you can do both tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Jacob and Joseph said in unison. Their worried looks vanished completely as they turned and hurried from the room, nearly running over Mary who was carrying a clean cloth diaper and leading Joshua.

  “Martha, that was nice of you.” Jonas salted his food and helped Mary into her seat at the same time.

  “They’re just kids,” Martha said in a voice that sounded ten years older than it should have. “I remember going without breakfast once or twice when I had trouble getting up in time for chores.”

  Martha tucked the muffins into the already-full lunch pails, then reached down for her baby brother, who had plopped onto the middle of the kitchen floor. “He’s wet, Mamm. Do you want me to change him?”

  “I’ll take care of that. You’re not so grown you don’t need your own breakfast.” Deborah smiled at Jonas and nearly laughed out loud when he winked at her over the kids’ heads. Five children were a handful, but they made for interesting mornings.

  She’d picked up Joshua, taken the clean diaper from Mary, and was heading back into the nursery to change him when a knock sounded at the front door.

  “I’ve got it.” With her left hand, she moved Joshua so she was carrying him in the front — facing out, like a bolt of cloth. She knew from experience not to carry him on her hip when the boy had a wet diaper. Potty training would come in the spring, and though she wasn’t looking forward to it, certain things would be easier, like early mornings.

  Joshua twisted in her arms to look at her and began giggling when she met his gaze.

  “You’re going to be like your bruders. Aren’t you? Hmm? That’s why you’re laughing at me.”

  She was so busy talking to her son that she didn’t glance out the glass of the front door as she reached for the handle and pulled it open. It wasn’t unusual to have visitors so early, what with the various farming activities Jonas attended to. It never occurred to her to check to see who it was.

  Later the moment would crystallize in her mind, for it seemed — even more than when she saw the girl in the pond — this moment changed their lives.

  What had happened the day before had been at Reuben’s house. It hadn’t seemed quite real, as she’d explained to Jonas the night before when they snuggled on the couch.

  This morning, she opened the door, smiled down at Joshua, and listened to the sounds of the girls and Jonas at the table behind her as beams of fall sunlight shone through the windows — and everything changed.

  This morning the tragedy on her doorstep spilled into her home, shattering the sweet, warm nest she and Jonas had made.

  Esther stood there, or a shadow of Esther, reminding Deborah of one of those paper dolls the girls cut out from their books. She looked as if the sun would not continue rising on the day. Pale and rumpled, her hair barely covered by her kapp and clinging to Esther’s hand, stood Leah.

  “Deborah.” Esther’s voice trembled. She stopped and pressed her fingers against her lips, as if to regain control of herself.

  “Esther, was iss letz? Come in. Come inside.”

  Deborah pulled her friend into the sitting room. “Martha, come and get the baby, please. Mary, would you take Leah to the table and offer her some breakfast?”

  Esther nodded when Leah looked up at her for permission.

  When they’d crossed the few steps to the sitting room and sat on the couch, Esther covered her face with both hands and began to sob, her shoulders shaking as the last thread of her composure snapped.

  Deborah’s body flooded with alarm.

  She’d never seen Esther show such emotion before. Maybe recently she’d begun to allow herself to show some happiness, a smile here and there, even a laugh occasionally. But she’d never actually expressed strong joy or grief — not even when her husband, Seth, had died. />
  Deborah moved closer to her on the couch, placed an arm around her shoulders, and began to rub up and down. She prayed silently for a moment, prayed for a way to calm her best friend. “Would you like some kaffi or some tea?”

  “No. No.” Esther wiped at her face with her sleeve, and Deborah handed her the clean cloth diaper she’d been carrying. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been so upset. I wanted to wait until the children were at school, only I couldn’t. I needed to see you, to talk to you.”

  “Of course you did, and I’m glad that you came over. But what’s wrong? Is it Tobias?”

  “Yes. No. I’m not sure.”

  Deborah accepted the hot mug of tea Jonas handed her and pushed it into Esther’s hands. “Drink this. It will calm you.”

  “Where is Tobias now?” Jonas sat down on the chair across from them, braced his forearms against his knees, and looked straight at Esther. Perhaps it was his no-nonsense voice that brought Esther around. He’d always been kind to her, always helped during planting and harvest, though she had plenty of brothers and brothers-in-law who had picked up on chores when Seth had died.

  Sometimes, though, it was a relief to have friends step in. Deborah was guessing that was why she’d turned to friends now.

  “He’s in town, with Reuben. And Reuben’s in jail.” The words out, Esther’s hands began to shake. She tried to raise the mug to her lips, but seemed to realize she would spill its contents.

  “Let me help you, Esther. I believe you might be in shock.”

  Deborah glanced over at Jonas, worried that this latest blow might be more than Esther could handle. She’d always been the strong one, but this turn of events, on the doorstep of what was to be a new life —

  “How did you hear Reuben had been arrested?” Jonas asked.

  “Tobias called down to the feed store before first light, since he couldn’t make his shift. They sent the delivery boy out to t-t-tell me.”

  “All right. And what exactly did he say?” Jonas’ voice was smooth, like the horse brush gliding over Cinnamon.