by Ruth Reid
Judith wiped her face. She didn’t want Samuel to see her crying. But outside his bedroom door, she had to dry her eyes once more before entering.
“What’s wrong, Judith?”
She forced herself to smile and walked closer to his bed. “I’m going away to visit relatives for a while.”
“How long?”
She shrugged, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold her voice steady.
“I’ll miss you.”
Kneeling, she reached over to him and combed her fingers through his hair. “I’ll miss you too.”
“I had another dream,” he said. “I heard a voice telling me I could get up nau.”
“Jah, so did you?”
“I followed a golden glow. I was walking.”
She kissed his forehead. “That’d be gut.”
Behind her, Daed cleared his throat.
Judith’s heart sank. She hadn’t heard him open the door. Now he would accuse her of convincing Samuel he could walk again.
“The buggy is ready.”
Judith nodded. She turned back to her brother. “It is time I go. You be a gut boy.” Her voice cracked.
“Kumm home soon.”
“Jah,” she replied without looking back. Closing his bedroom door, she could hear him whimpering. Her heart grew heavy. Provide him comfort, Lord.
Outside, Mamm, Rebecca, and her father had already loaded into the buggy. She hugged Martha on the porch, then climbed inside. As they pulled out from the drive, her vision blurred, hindering one last look at the farm. At her life left behind.
“Judith is gone, Andrew,” Martha informed him at the door.
Andrew pushed past her into the kitchen. Empty. “Where is she?”
Martha trailed behind him. “I told you, she’s gone.”
He studied her red and blotchy face. She wasn’t gloating, and her eyes didn’t have the same haughtiness. Still, he didn’t trust her.
“Andrew?” Samuel called out from the bedroom.
He opened Samuel’s bedroom door.
The boy’s eyes brightened as he hoisted himself upright. “Are we going to build today?”
Andrew squatted at his bedside. “Nett today, Samuel. I’m looking for Judith. Have you seen her?” Even though he didn’t want to delay a second more than necessary, he spoke with a calm tone so as not to disturb the little boy.
“She’s going to visit relatives. Why would that make her cry?” Samuel started to sniffle. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”
Andrew ruffled Samuel’s hair. “Don’t get upset. You didn’t do anything.”
“I don’t think she wanted to go.”
“Remember what I told you about Judith?” Andrew brushed his hand over Samuel’s messy hair, flattening out the static. “I’m going to ask her to marry me, and I’m going to bring her back.”
“I want to go with you, please.”
“I can’t take you. I’m sorry.” Andrew stood. “But when I come back, we’ll do some more building.”
Samuel rubbed his fists over his puffy eyes.
“Okay?”
Samuel nodded, but his lips puckered and he started to cry again.
Andrew patted the boy’s shoulder. “Samuel, pray that God gives me enough time to stop her.”
As he left the room, Martha met him in the hallway.
“They left for the bus station more than an hour ago. You’ll have to hurry if you want to catch her.” She pressed her hand against his back, nudging him forward. “Andrew, Judith needs you. I hope it’s not too late.”
What was up with Martha? He paused at the door. “I find it hard to believe. You suddenly care about your sister?”
“I asked her to forgive me, and I meant mei words.” She looked toward Samuel’s room. “He’s been crying since they left. I don’t know how to console him.” She turned back toward Andrew. “Can you go in the Shady Pine Drive direction? I don’t think you’ll make it unless you do.”
He’d already considered the option. Taking the route would shave forty minutes off the trip. “I’ll have to,” he said, rushing out the door.
Andrew’s chest grew heavy as he approached the road Esther had lived on. The road he traveled every day that summer to see her, even after the kitchen cabinets were built. During the three years since he’d come down the road, the red pine trees along the roadside had matured. Now their needles bent with the northeastern wind. Storm clouds hovered overhead, and inside, his core chilled to the bone.
His thoughts drifted to the times he and Esther had sat beneath the cluster of birch trees. She wasn’t physically able to enjoy the outdoors often. The doctor wanted her to stay calm and inside so as not to stress her heart.
Andrew’s throat tightened, remembering the day he’d convinced her to go for a buggy ride. The dust from the dirt roads put too much demand on her lungs, and once she started coughing, she couldn’t catch her breath.
His eyes burned. Why did her heart finally give out in his buggy? He could still feel her body slumped over against his shoulder as he urged Patsy to run faster than she’d run before. It didn’t help. The woman he’d believed would be his wife had died seated next to him.
He hated the dry gravel road. Hated the dust kicked up by the horse. Hated that he had convinced her to take the drive.
Andrew peered up into the sky. “God, I don’t understand Your ways. I don’t think like You think. I loved her . . . I bought that cabin.”
His vision blurred, and he swiped his shirtsleeve over his eyes. As he neared her father’s farmhouse, the cluster of birch trees came into view. While he was trying to clear his sight, the buggy wheel dipped into a deep rut.
A loud snap. The splintered wheel skidded across the gravel.
The horse struggled for traction, but Patsy, a driver, didn’t have the strength that Jack, his Belgium, had for hauling unbalanced loads. She couldn’t pull the buggy with a broken wheelbase.
Andrew steadied the horse and stepped out to look at the damage. Under most circumstances, he traveled with spare parts. But not complete wheels. It would take hours to hobble back to the house and change buggies. Hours he didn’t have.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Think . . .
Andrew squatted next to the wagon. With the hit the wheel took, he wouldn’t be able to limp home on it. He unhitched Patsy and led her to the side of the road where he tied her to a tree.
He scanned the area. Esther’s family wouldn’t own a phone, but maybe . . . The next farm had a tractor in the field. Perhaps the Englisch who lived there would let him use their phone to call Mr. Thon for a ride.
A buggy came up behind him and stopped. Andrew turned to greet the man. “Gut day.”
It was anything but a good day, but he didn’t want to sound rude.
“Jah.” The man pointed to Andrew’s debilitated buggy and Patsy tied to the tree. “Your buggy?”
“Jah, the wheel broke.”
The bearded man nodded. “Kumm, I’ll take you to your haus.”
“Denki.” Andrew climbed in and took a good look at the stranger. He was no one Andrew had ever seen before. “You from around here?”
“Nay, just passing through on a visit.”
Andrew cocked his head sideways.
The man’s blue eyes sparkled.
“You look like someone . . .” The man at the cabin. He had seen the stranger before.
The man kept his focus directed at the road. “Where were you headed?”
“The bus station.”
“Going away?”
Andrew shrugged. “Nett so sure myself.” When the man’s brows furrowed, Andrew continued his explanation. “The woman I want to marry is leaving . . . I wanted to stop her or . . .” He looked out the window opening. Judith was probably already on a bus.
“Or go with her?”
“Jah.” Andrew patted his pockets, hoping his travel money hadn’t fallen out. He’d emptied the money jar he kept hidden under the floorboard before leaving his daed’s
house. He glanced back at his buggy and his heart sank. He had forgotten the box.
“Is something wrong?”
“I forgot something in my buggy, is all.”
The man stopped the buggy.
“Nay, please, there isn’t enough time to go back.” Andrew’s heart skipped. Time was running out.
The man stepped out.
Did the horse need to rest? Andrew glanced back at the Englisch farm they had passed. He could walk back, ask to use their phone, and . . . Andrew gulped. What was the stranger doing, whispering in the horse’s ear?
The man returned to the window opening. “Take the buggy, Andrew. You will not miss Judith.” He walked away.
Andrew . . . He knows my name. Had he given his name to him at the cabin? Jah, at that time the man said he knew who Andrew was . . . but Judith?
Andrew swung sideways on the seat, but the man was gone. It took him a few moments to get the feeling back in his feet. The length of his spine tingled as the words repeated in his mind.
The horse tossed her head and pawed at the ground.
Andrew slid into the driver’s place, and without his having to say anything, the mare broke into a racing pace down the road.
Pulling into the bus station, Andrew saw the Fischers’ buggy parked under a lamppost. His heart swelled. After tying the horse next to theirs, he ran into the building.
Inside, he skidded to a stop on the tiled floor. Both Mrs. Fischer and Rebecca in her arms were crying. He scanned the waiting area. Judith’s father was talking with a worker at the loading area. Judith was . . . gone.
Andrew blew out his suspended breath. I’m too late, God. His eyes welled and blurred his vision. He looked up at the slate-colored ceiling, hoping the tears would stay in his eyes and not roll down his face. Now what do I do, God? Andrew rubbed the moisture from his eyes. He took a few steps toward the family, not sure what he would say or if begging for her whereabouts would gain their sympathy.
From the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the ladies’ room open. Judith stepped out, wiping her tearstained face.
She glanced up and saw him, and her face paled. Her eyes darted to where her mother sat, then to where her father stood.
“What are you doing here, Andrew?”
“Were you going to leave without saying good-bye?”
“It’s not as though I had a choice.” She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes.
“I don’t want you to go.” He reached for her hand but noticed her daed approaching and released it.
“The bus has been delayed six hours.” Mr. Fischer looked at his wife, then to Judith. “We might as well wait at home.”
Andrew stepped forward. “Mr. Fischer, I’d like your permission to take Judith home.”
Her father stared at him.
“Allow it please, Jonas,” Mrs. Fischer said.
He nodded his consent. “Don’t be too long. She needs to catch that bus.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Judith kept her back as straight and stiff as the buggy bench she sat on. Andrew made a few sideways glances at her, but she pretended not to notice. He kept his comments to himself until they were outside the city limits.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Judith shrugged. She knew why. Andrew would try to stop her parents from sending her away. But he couldn’t protect her from them or from the bishop.
“I thought we were friends.”
Judith drew in a long breath and gazed at the houses. “I don’t think I’ve been on this road before.”
“Don’t change the subject.” He touched her hand as she held tight to the bench. “I’m glad you didn’t leave.”
She looked down at his hand covering hers, then lifted her eyes to meet his. “I still am . . . in six hours,” she murmured, turning away from the intensity of his stare.
“Change your mind and stay.”
She couldn’t change God’s decision. She’d already tried. “How kumm you took this route?”
His expression saddened and she closed her eyes, remembering how he avoided the main route when they visited Samuel in the hospital. Levi had asked the same question, and something painful stirred in Andrew’s eyes that day.
“I took the other road on my way into town.” He kept his focus on the road. “Besides, this way I can show you a quilt.”
Judith lifted her brows. “A quilt?” She was leaving in six hours, and he wanted her to see a quilt.
“This one is special—you’ll want to see it,” he said, then whispered under his breath, “I hope.”
Judith looked at the Englisch houses. Thanksgiving hadn’t passed, and their houses and lawns were already decorated for Christmas. She sighed. It would be difficult not celebrating Jesus’ birth with her family.
Andrew glanced at her. “What are you thinking about?”
Judith dug her hands into her cape pockets and dabbed at her eyes with a tattered tissue. Even if she admitted to feeling sad over leaving, Andrew couldn’t do anything about it. “Where did you say this quilt is?”
“I didn’t say.” He turned his head and concentrated on the road.
Judith shifted in her seat. If the bishop caught the two of them together, surely Andrew would be punished. She was surprised that her father had allowed them to leave the bus station together. She twisted to look out the window opening.
He chuckled. “Why are you so nervous?”
She focused on the passing houses. “Worried, is all.”
“About what?”
“You don’t have to hide the truth from me. I know why you chose this route. So your father won’t see us together.”
Andrew shook his head. He cleared his throat. “Esther lived down the other road. I haven’t gone that way in three years. Not since—”
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to explain.”
He forced a smile. “We were on a buggy ride when she died.”
Judith touched his forearm. “I’m sorry. Driving that way today muscht have been painful. I don’t blame you for not wanting to go back that direction.”
He patted her hand. “I had to reach you. I couldn’t let you go.”
She snapped her hand off his forearm. “I only have a few hours before I have to be back at the bus station.” She looked out the opening. The ride into town was difficult, but this was too much to bear. While at the station, she had time to reflect on all the people and activities she’d miss. Baking pies with her mother, the community suppers, walking Rebecca to shul, reading to Samuel . . . and mostly, she would miss Andrew. His strong arms, his grin. She dabbed the tissue against the corners of her eyes.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, but deep down she knew she would never be okay. How had Andrew come to mean so much in her life? It occurred to her then that during the long ride into town, and the time she’d spent waiting for the bus, Levi hadn’t once crossed her mind.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Levi.”
Andrew’s expression hardened. “Sorry I asked.”
“I was thinking about how I didn’t think of him . . . I mean, when I was waiting at the bus station.”
Andrew’s brows rose and his head cocked to the side as though he was unscrambling her statement to make sense of it.
“When I thought of missing everyone when I was in Ohio, Levi never came to mind.”
Andrew rubbed the nape of his neck. “I don’t think he would be the first to come to my mind either.” He looked at her a long moment, then said, “I heard he proposed.”
“Jah, he did.” Judith fumbled with the tissue in her hand. “I heard all my life that God’s purpose for me was to marry and have children.”
“And now?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see myself falling in love with someone in Ohio.” She didn’t see herself loving anyone other than Andrew.
Judith had replayed Clare’s words a hundred times since the evening everyone gathered for singing. How she s
aid the bishop had given his approval of marriage. Andrew and Clare wouldn’t have sought the bishop’s approval unless there was a commitment between them.
She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. No, if her purpose was to marry and have children as Amish women were taught growing up, she didn’t know if she had any purpose at all. The recurring dream of the footpath with its glittering leaves didn’t help. The narrow road, she’d come to believe, meant she would walk it alone—in Ohio. And she was all right with that decision, knowing it was God’s will.
Judith looked at the farms. They had entered the Amish district—Clare’s district. She looked at the space on the bench between her and Andrew and slid over to the side, increasing the distance between them.
Andrew slid closer to Judith. “Close your eyes. I want it to be a surprise.”
Judith raised her eyebrows at him, but complied. Having her eyes closed made it easier to avoid acknowledging that he’d moved closer to her on the bench. A few minutes passed before she felt the pavement end under the buggy wheels and the seat bounce over the bumpy road. What sounded like tree branches swept the roof of the buggy, and Judith fumbled for the edge of the bench. Her hand met Andrew’s, and he gave hers a gentle squeeze.
“Your eyes still closed?”
“Jah.”
“Whoa.” Once the buggy stopped, he nudged her. “Okay, you can look.”
Judith opened her eyes. A small wood-sided cabin came into view. She turned to Andrew as he jumped out. Her eyes followed him as he tied the horse and came to her side of the buggy.
“Kumm mitt mich.” He reached for her hand.
Judith slanted her brows. “Is this—”
“Where the quilt is? Jah.”
She eased off the seat, still not understanding. A stiff breeze caused the leaves to clatter overhead. She gazed up, seeing the glistening golden hues shake against the blue sky.
Following Andrew up the porch steps, Judith paused as he opened the door.
“It’s okay.” He motioned for her to come inside with a wave of his hand.
After her eyes had adjusted to the darkness inside, the empty sitting room came into view. “I don’t understand. Who lives in a house with no furniture?”