by Ruth Reid
Judith’s vision blurred.
He gently squeezed her shoulder. “Dry your eyes. We muscht be strong for Samuel.”
Judith nodded, although she wondered where her strength would come from. Her faith had once been, or so she believed, a source of raw power. But lately her faith was as wilted as a trampled stalk of winter wheat.
David’s voice perked up. “Have you seen Ellen?”
“Nay, nett lately.”
“She has news to share.”
“Jah?”
A wide smile spread across David’s face, but he shook his head. “I promised I’d let her say.” He pointed to the door. “Kumm, she and Rebecca are in the haus.”
Judith set the horse brush on the shelf and walked with David to the house. The last time he’d sported such an exuberant smile, Ellen was pregnant with the twins.
Rebecca ran to the door as Judith entered. Her sister’s little arms embraced her legs, bunching her dress at the seam.
“I’ve missed you,” Judith said, stooping down to give her a hug.
“Me too.”
“Did you find the cookies I baked?”
Rebecca broke her hold and darted off to find the treat. Chuckling at her sister’s enthusiasm, Judith followed her into the kitchen and opened the cookie tin. She held up two fingers. “Zvay.” She waited for Rebecca to make her selection, then turned with the container and offered them to Ellen.
The moment Ellen turned from where she stood at the sink, Judith didn’t need to hear the announcement. The glow on Ellen’s cheeks gave her secret away.
“David said you have news.”
Ellen patted her belly. “We’re going to have a boppli. In the spring.”
Judith smiled. “I hope it’s a girl.”
“That is my prayer.” She grabbed Judith’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Your brother wants more boys.” She leaned closer. “He wants his own construction crew.”
“Did you tell him someone needs to prepare all the lunch pails?”
Ellen laughed. “And sew the aprons that hold their nails.”
Judith set the tin of cookies on the table before filling the kettle with water to heat for coffee. “Maybe you’ll have twin girls and even out the number.”
“That would be fine with me.” She sat at the table. “It’s been too long since I held a boppli. I’ll take them two at a time.”
Judith pulled out a chair and sat next to Ellen. “This is wun-debaar news.”
“Will you kumm stay with me when it’s time?”
Judith nodded. “Jah.”
“Your brother might have a tough exterior.” Ellen lowered her voice at the sound of the door opening and footsteps. “But seeing Jacob’s head, David crumbled.”
“So much for his experience delivering all those calves.”
“I heard that.” David walked into the room and leaned toward his wife. “Are you telling the story of how I fainted?”
“Jah,” Ellen replied.
The kettle whistled, and Judith stood. “Would you like a cup of kaffi, David?”
“Nay, I need to be on my way.” He tapped Ellen’s shoulder. “You and Rebecca can drive the buggy home.” He reached into the tin and grabbed a handful of cookies. “I’m sharing with the boys,” he said, responding to Ellen’s light hand tap. “Where’s Martha?”
Judith shrugged. She assumed Martha had holed up in her bedroom. She’d certainly made herself scarce, but Judith wasn’t about to complain.
“Is she helping you with chores?” David walked to the entrance and craned his neck down the hallway. He turned back. “Is she?”
Judith feathered her fingers over her neck. She dropped her hands when his brows arched questioningly. God, couldn’t You reveal her sin another way besides through me?
David leaned into the hallway. “Martha?” He waited a moment before going to her bedroom door and knocking. “Martha, open the door . . . What are you listening to?”
Judith and Ellen leaned into the hallway as David came out from the bedroom, something dangling from his hand. He came into the kitchen, opened the side of the woodstove, and shoved a portable CD player and headphones inside. “Let me know if she gives you trouble.”
Martha came tromping down the hallway toward the kitchen.
He pointed at her. “That music is of the world and not anything pleasing to the Lord. You and I will talk later.” He turned to Ellen. “Please don’t be long. It’ll be dark soon.”
“Jah, I’ll kumm nau.” She waved at Rebecca. “Get a clean dress. You’ll have your bath tonight.”
Her little sister ran down the hall and returned with a gray dress bunched in her hand.
Once Ellen and Rebecca left, Martha glared at Judith. “You told him, didn’t you?”
Judith glanced at the doorway. “Nay. Should Ich stop him so you can?” She wished David had prodded more into Martha’s deceptive ways. Her sister dabbled in more sin than just listening to a musical device.
“I don’t know why it matters if I listen to music. God doesn’t care about anything. He doesn’t care about Samuel . . . or you.” Martha spun in the direction of the bedroom. “I’m leaving the Amish faith.”
“Martha.” Judith grabbed her arm. “Don’t say such words.”
Martha jerked her arm from Judith’s grip. “How can I serve a God who takes away a boy’s ability to walk? I won’t.”
Judith stiffened. Surely Martha didn’t know what she was saying. How could she speak so boldly against God’s sovereignty? Judith closed her eyes in fear for her sister. Lord, only You can change her stony heart. Bring her to repentance.
Rebecca charged back into the house. “I forgot my doll,” she said, running past Judith.
Her sister’s tattered rag doll hadn’t spent too many nights outside Rebecca’s grasp.
Judith stepped outside and walked to Ellen’s buggy. “Rebecca will be out shortly.”
“Jah, she cried so hard at bedtime, I had to put stuffing in one of David’s socks so she had something to hold while she slept.”
“Just think, if you have a girl this time, you’ll be making rag dolls.” Judith sighed.
Ellen reached for Judith’s hand. “You’re nineteen. It won’t be long before you have a husband and family of your own.”
Judith forced a smile. If it were not so sad, she would remind her of Katie, Ellen’s unmarried thirty-year-old sister who had no prospect of a husband or children. Judith never wanted to walk in Katie’s shoes.
Chapter Thirteen
Preparing breakfast didn’t have the same appeal this morning. The other day Judith had wanted to impress Levi with her cooking skills. Today cooking felt like a chore. Instead of standing over the stove in an effort to keep the food warm and prevent it from burning, she removed the pan from the wood burner and sat with her quilting sprawled over her lap. She needed something to do with her hands, although stitching the binding on her wedding quilt seemed pointless now.
Someone knocked on the door, causing Judith to startle and stick herself with the needle. She pushed the quilt aside and sucked her finger as she went to answer the door.
Andrew greeted her, then motioned to her hand. “You didn’t burn yourself again, did you?”
She plucked her finger from her mouth. “Needle stab,” she explained as she waved him inside.
“How did things go with . . . uh . . . ?” Andrew looked down as he wiped his boots on the rug.
Judith put him out of his stuttering misery. “With Martha?”
His head shot up. “Jah. Did she give you a hard time?”
“We haven’t spoken of it.” She half expected a lecture about turning the other cheek, but Andrew said nothing.
He followed her toward the kitchen, then stopped at the entry.
Judith scooped up a generous portion of eggs and fried potatoes and set the plate on the table. “Aren’t you hungry?” She pulled out a chair.
He gave her a firm nod as though he had been waiting for her invit
ation and sat in front of the meal.
Judith filled a cup with black coffee, steam rising, and set it next to his plate. Then she went to the window and rose to her tiptoes to see the barn. When she turned back toward the table, Andrew’s gaze met hers.
“He’ll be in after he finishes milking.”
Judith groaned. Looking for Levi out the window was a habit she needed to break. “I wasn’t—”
But she was looking for Levi, and Andrew of all people would chastise her if she tried to lie—even to fool herself. His face crinkled, and again she braced herself for a lecture. Instead, he slowly chewed a mouthful of food.
“Ach, I’m sorry,” she said, realizing she’d dished up cold food for him to eat. “Let me fix you something hot.”
He mumbled something she assumed was to stop her from the trouble, but she disregarded it and snatched the plate off the table.
He gulped his coffee to wash down the mouthful of food. “I would have—” His voice hoarse from the scalding coffee, he cleared his throat.
Judith filled a glass with water and handed it to him.
Andrew drank the water and pointed to the plate of food she was discarding into the tin of scraps for the pigs. “I would have eaten that.”
“And have word get out that I’m a bad cook?” She placed the fry pan on the stove, worked the spatula to scrape the sliced potatoes off the bottom, and added more oil to refry them. She had set a fresh plate in front of Andrew when Martha raced through the kitchen to answer the knock at the door.
“Guder mariye, Martha.” Levi’s greeting traveled into the kitchen.
Judith wiped her hands on her apron, glanced at Andrew, then crossed her arms. She didn’t care if he knew she was bitter.
Levi entered the kitchen, and his nostrils flared as he took in the breakfast aroma. “Smells gut in here,” he said.
Judith spun her back to his wide smile. What audacity he sported, breezing in with his jovial greeting as if unaffected by yesterday’s conflict. Complimenting her cooking wouldn’t get him back into her good graces.
Judith bit her bottom lip. There were plenty of chores to finish that would put distance between them. As it was, Martha had already started slathering him with attention. Besides, she wanted to spend time at the river. Samuel was expected home tomorrow, and once he arrived there wouldn’t be much opportunity to sneak off to look for Tobias.
She eyed the basket of wet clothes washed earlier, picked them up, and headed outside to hang them on the line. It wasn’t long before the door opened and Andrew stepped outside.
He walked over to the clothesline. “Thanks again for breakfast.”
Judith snapped a towel hard. “Did you hear him?”
Andrew’s brows rose. “Levi?”
She held the towel’s edge to the line, then realized she didn’t have a clip ready.
He reached for the towel’s corner, touching her hand. “I got it.”
She bent down to grab a clip from the bag. “He said my cooking smelled gut.”
“It did.” Andrew jerked his hand away from her clip.
Judith grunted, bent to gather another wet towel from the basket, and gave it a quick snap, spraying a fine mist in the process.
Andrew wiped his face. When another snap sprayed him, he took the towel from her hands and lifted it to the line.
“The other day, after he said my cooking smelled gut, he said I’d make a gut fraa. Can you believe his nerve?”
Andrew sucked in a deep breath. “Are you going to hand me a clothespin, or would you rather I hold this towel until it dries?”
His curt tone jolted her from her thoughts. “I’m sorry.” She secured the towel and bent for another one. Standing back up, she lifted the towel to the line and glanced at the house. “I suppose you think I’m still bitter.”
Andrew chuckled. “Don’t walk me into that fight.”
She lowered the towel from the line and placed it and her hand on her hip. “You do, don’t you? Go ahead and say it.”
Andrew tossed his hands in the air as if she held him at gunpoint, then lowered them. “If you’d listen to your own tone, you’d have your answer.”
“Humph. I should’ve hit him over the head with the fry pan.”
Andrew’s mouth opened, but closed when she pointed her finger at him.
“Don’t lecture me.”
Andrew clamped his mouth closed and raised his hands in surrender. With caution, he reached for the towel she held. “It’s dripping on your dress.”
She looked down and patted her hand over the water spots. Andrew cleared his throat and motioned with his head to the towel that he held in place.
“Ach, sorry.” She hurried to fasten the clip.
They both tried to reach for the last towel and promptly bumped heads. Catching sight of each other in their mirrored actions of rubbing their heads, they laughed aloud at how silly they must look.
Just then Levi stepped outside. He cocked his head to one side as Andrew continued to laugh.
He stopped once Levi reached his buggy. “I should leave nau. I have furniture to deliver.”
Denki again for keeping up with the barn chores while my “parents were with Samuel.”
He fidgeted with a spare clothes clip. “Have you heard when Samuel can kumm home?”
Judith smiled. “The docktah said maybe meiya.” She motioned to the barn. “I guess you’ll be relieved of the barn chores.” A tinge of regret worked its way along her nerves.
Andrew handed her the clip. “I thought I’d kumm do the second milking this evening.”
“That’s very kind, but I’m sure you have orders to fill.”
Andrew’s furniture business was the busiest in the area. People from all over Michigan came to buy his furniture and hire him to build custom kitchen cabinets.
“As you said, there won’t be many more days to . . . help.” He tapped the brim of his hat. “Maybe we could go for a walk when I kumm later?”
Judith half nodded. “All right,” she replied. Why did he think she might still need his support? She made a quick scan of the area. Levi’s buggy was gone, and Martha hadn’t come out of the house.
Andrew turned before she could tell him they didn’t need to pretend any longer.
Branches of the poplar trees bent with the breeze and shed some of their triangular-shaped leaves, littering the trail with bright yellow hues. Judith hugged herself, wishing she had remembered her cape. Once she was clear of the woods, she could see that gray clouds had developed and were hiding the afternoon sun.
Meandering along the riverbank, she looked down at the rushing water, wondering if she could locate the speckled rock. She followed the river around the bend, hypnotized by the flowing water.
A patch of loose soil gave way beneath her foot, and her arms teetered for balance. As she fell, a strong hand caught her, lifted her off her feet, then planted her firmly on the ground.
“Denki—”
Tobias released his hold and smiled. Opening his outstretched hand, he asked, “Were you looking for this?”
Judith eyed the speckled rock. “Jah, but—” She caught herself. A quick reminder of who had sent him settled that question.
“I believe this is yours,” he said, releasing it to her.
The rock’s jagged edges were gone. She turned it over in her hand several times in awe of its pronounced colors and smooth texture. “It’s beautiful.”
Tobias motioned to the rock. “Below the surface elements, the true color is exposed.”
She turned her gaze back to the rock as a beam of sunlight cast a prism of colors. While she watched, it turned into a radiant gemstone. Her hands trembled such that she feared she would drop it.
Tobias pointed to the stone. “This is how God’s children sparkle in His eyes.” He lifted his gaze to Judith, and a pigment of indigo flickered in his eyes. “Those who seek to have a pure heart are a rare gem.”
“I try to do what is right.” But once she voice
d her claim, she remembered wanting to hit Levi with the frying pan earlier. She knew that God wouldn’t view her heart as pure.
He pointed at the river. “The current is like the cares of this world. If you do not guard your heart, you will be tossed downstream.” Tobias motioned to the ground. “Sometimes you think where you stand is safe, but in another step, the sand shifts and the foundation crumbles.”
She glanced at the ground. When she looked up to ask him what he meant, he was gone, and she saw Andrew walking toward her. She groaned inwardly. He took his role as her protector too seriously. His timing was all wrong. The fact that Andrew Lapp had become hard to ignore was a curious predicament.
“What are you doing way down here?” He scanned the area. “I haven’t been this far downstream in a long time.”
She blew out an aggravated breath. “I thought you were leaving. Why did you kumm?”
Andrew rubbed the nape of his neck. “I thought we planned to take a walk.” He made another pass around the area with his eyes. “Who were you talking to?”
“You heard him?” She couldn’t stifle the hint of excitement in her voice.
His brows arched. “I heard you.”
Judith heard the caution in his reply.
“Was I supposed to hear someone else?” He made another scan of the area.
Judith shrugged. “I guess nett.” She turned to leave.
“Hey, where are you going?” He jogged up beside her. “I thought we were going for a walk together.”
“Don’t you find it odd that I’d be talking to myself?” She found the entire thing odd. Why was she the only one who saw and heard Tobias?
Andrew shrugged. “I talk to myself sometimes.” He grinned. “Sometimes I have to ask myself where I put the measuring tape. I know it sounds silly. If I knew where I put it, I wouldn’t have to ask myself.”
Judith smiled in spite of herself.
He leaned closer. “If you ask me, I’d say there are a lot of us who talk to ourselves.” He nodded. “An odd bunch we are, jah?”
A strong gust of wind lifted Andrew’s hat off his head. She chuckled, watching him chase after it. With a sudden change in the wind’s direction, the hat rolled on its brim into the undergrowth of ferns. Judith ran after it, with Andrew following.