After asking her a few questions about her diet and activities, he stood behind her and felt her throat. “Could be thyroid or any number of things, Abigail. I’ll be honest with you. I can’t tell you why you’re losing weight, but I’m concerned. When you combine the weight loss with the hair loss and the tremors, it suggests an aggressive change of some sort.”
Sitting again, he rolled the stool back in front of her and placed his hands on his knees.
“I’m glad you came in. Glad you listened to Joshua. I respect your beliefs about Gotte’s wille.” He pronounced it with an Amish accent, pausing until he saw the smile on her face he was waiting for, and then he pushed on. “But I happen to believe that Gotte brought me to this community for a reason, and one of those reasons was to look after fine folk like yourself.”
“Humph. That’s a fancy way of saying what?”
“I want to do some blood tests, and I’d like you back in here next week.”
Abigail clasped her hands together in her lap. It was rare that Miriam had ever seen her mother’s hands still—at church perhaps, but then they were usually holding the Bible or were held together in prayer. Folded there, in the light coming through the single window, Abigail seemed her full fifty-five years. Miriam could make out the blue veins and the delicate bones even from where she sat, and they reminded her of a small bird. But more than that, they reminded her of all the times her mother had tended her—made meals, applied bandages, cut herbs for teas she did not want to drink, canned food, and wrapped Rachel in a blanket.
Miriam blinked away her tears and tried to focus on what her mother was saying.
“Why blood tests? What are we looking for, Doctor?”
The list was long and included most of the fears Miriam had wrestled with since Sunday—cancer, diabetes, Parkinson’s, and hyperthyroidism. Some she hadn’t even heard of, like Hodgkin’s, and Addison’s disease.
“Do you have any other questions?” Doc asked.
“Are these treatable? Because if they’re not, I see no point in knowing. You understand I won’t abide long vigils in a hospital. I’ve been clear how I feel about that topic.”
How did he know how she felt about the topic of hospital stays and long vigils? When had they ever talked about it before?
“I know. I haven’t forgotten, but you’re placing the buggy well in front of the horse in this case. Let me run the tests, and then we’ll talk again.”
Abigail nodded and rolled up her sleeve so Virginia could take the blood samples she needed. Doc Hanson stood and left the room without another word, but Miriam thought he looked more concerned than when he had walked in. She thought the entire day had changed in the last ten minutes, and it had changed for the worse.
Chapter 19
Aaron once again borrowed Lydia’s horse and buggy. He didn’t want to purchase his own transportation. He still didn’t believe he’d be in Wisconsin long enough to justify the expense, plus he’d have to deal with selling both buggy and horse when he left. He’d rather borrow Lydia’s and pay her a little more each week for their use. Today he was on an errand to sign up some extra labor, and the person he had in mind didn’t have a phone.
As he drove Tin Star into David King’s yard, the shouting was at full volume.
Seth and his father stood a few feet outside the barn, nose to nose. It wasn’t the first time Aaron had seen such confrontations between fathers and sons. There had been a few in his own family—not with his father, who wouldn’t stand for hollering. No, Ethan Troyer stated how things were and allowed you to stew or work yourself into submission or exhaustion.
The hollering in the Troyer family came from his onkels and their sons.
Folks tended to think Amish were always peaceful and quiet—peaceful, yes, but there were times of discord within their families as in any life. One such situation was playing out right in front of him at the moment. He dropped the reins to Tin Star and sat back to watch. He’d place his money on David if he were a betting man, though of course Amish didn’t bet any more often than they hollered.
“You know I will not abide you speaking to me or your mamm in such a manner!”
“And what will you abide? Can you tell me that?”
“I’ll thank you to close your mouth at the moment. That would be the best thing for you to do, and if you have any brains in your head, you’ll prove it right now.”
“I’m not a kind, you know.”
“Then stop acting like one!”
“You seem to forget that I’m seventeen—”
“How can I forget when you remind me of it every day?”
They might have gone on like that for some time, and Aaron thought it was more interesting than an Englisch picture show. David, forty years old, had an abundance of energy and muscle. He hadn’t been able to use enough of it recently, what with the rains, and so now his hands were working overtime, punctuating every third word by flinging an arm out—first toward the barn, then the house, then the pasture.
Seth was a mirror image of his dad. One day they would probably work side by side in the fields, contentedly. Odds were certainly on their side because most Amish youth did stay within the Plain community. But at the moment, Seth was still struggling emotionally and physically with his place in the community and the family. All of that was evident in the way he squared his shoulders, rammed his hands into the pockets of his pants, and glowered at his father.
He reminded Aaron of a pup with extra skin he hadn’t quite grown into yet.
The two of them made quite a pair—a young frustrated pup and a bull with too much energy.
Ya. Spring on an Amish farm was full of entertainment.
“Are you going to stay in your buggy, sitting there and grinning at us?” David demanded.
“Wasn’t sure it was safe to come out yet.”
“It’s safe, all right. Not sure it’s worth your time, but it’s safe.” David turned and stalked into his barn.
Seth moved closer to Tin Star.
When the horse nudged him, Aaron thought he had better offer a warning. “Lydia’s spoiled that gelding. I’d be careful unless you have—”
Pulling a handful of raisins from his pocket, Seth offered them to Tin Star, who ate them greedily as if he hadn’t been fed earlier at the cabins.
“That horse is incorrigible,” Aaron muttered, wondering if everyone in Pebble Creek spoiled their animals or if Seth knew Lydia better than he realized. The boy was old enough to court a girl, but Lydia was too old for him.
The thought caught in his throat, and he nearly choked. Was she courting? He’d never thought to ask. It wasn’t his business to ask.
“Word’s going around,” Seth grumbled.
“What word?”
“Incorrigible. My dat called me that earlier, before you arrived. Before the shouting started.”
Aaron hopped out of the buggy. “Are you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t pay that much attention in school. Couldn’t wait for eighth grade to be done so I could be free. And for what? So I could get bossed around by him instead of by a schoolmarm.”
“Incorrigible means incurable or hopeless, and I doubt your dat feels that way about you, Seth. Sometimes people say things they don’t mean when they’re frustrated, and no man is perfect, not even your father.”
“Tell him that.”
“I’m sure he knows.”
Seth rubbed Tin Star’s neck as he thought on that a minute. Finally he shrugged his shoulders. “I need to get off this farm before I go completely narrisch.”
“Would the cabins be far enough? I came by to see if your dat could do without you half days the rest of the week. I need some help building shelves in the office…if you know how.”
“I can build shelves. He’s made me learn to make everything from shelves to those stupid toys he has stacked up in his workshop. I’ve done enough woodwork in the last six weeks to make me wish I’d never seen a saw.”
“So you’re no
t interested?” Aaron asked.
“Yes, I’m interested.”
“I also need you to drive me over to the east side of Pebble Creek.”
When Seth started to ask why, Aaron held up his hand. “There will be other errands and more busywork around the property. Nothing fancy, but I can pay you minimum wage four hours a day.”
Seth glanced over at his father, who had led two of the horses out of the barn to turn them loose in the pasture. “It’s a deal. If I stay here I’ll be cleaning out horse stalls all day.”
“Let’s go talk to your dad, then.” Aaron didn’t mention Seth would probably still be cleaning out those stalls. He would just have to finish it in the morning hours before he came to work at the cabins.
Aaron needed the boy’s help, and apparently David and Seth could use a little time apart.
He remembered those years well enough. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d determined to buy his own fields, tired of working on his father’s place. Tired of doing everything his father’s way.
He’d found a small piece of land easily enough, but he hadn’t been able to purchase it right away. His dreams hadn’t come true overnight. He’d had to put in his time on the family farm and work extra hours as a hired hand at the neighbors’ places. The money he’d earned had been carefully tucked away and saved. While others his age had taken bus trips and bought new mares, Aaron had continued to watch the account grow until he had enough to buy the small section down the road from his parents’ farm.
Walking toward David, he recognized the irony in the situation. By the time he’d earned enough money to purchase land that was all his own, by the time that land had become productive and was finally turning a profit, he’d no longer felt the need to have distance between himself and his dat.
Which was when the call had come that his onkel Ervin had passed. He’d had to leave his land and his family behind.
Now his land was being tended by his younger brothers. As the oldest nephew, it had fallen to him to come to Wisconsin and see to Elizabeth and the girls.
Those days of struggling against his father seemed far off as he watched a similar situation play out between David and Seth.
After talking with David and coming to an agreement regarding Seth’s hours, choosing lumber for the shelves, and picking up toys to sell, Aaron climbed into Lydia’s buggy and headed back to the cabins.
The sun was starting to move toward the horizon, but he felt he had accomplished a lot in one day. Aaron was pleased. Each day more was done. Each evening he was a day closer to stepping aboard the bus and returning to his piece of land in Indiana. He might miss this year’s planting, but surely he would be there in time for the harvest.
Gabe hadn’t expected Miriam to be home in time for lunch, and he didn’t begin worrying when she still hadn’t returned by the time he took a midafternoon break. He’d been able to work in the fields, finally, though the going was slow in the wet ground. He didn’t mind too much. It was good to be out on his land again.
Concern began to gnaw at the back of his mind when she still hadn’t returned by late afternoon, when he met Grace at the end of the lane. As they walked toward the house, he listened to her chatter about her day at school. She’d come in second in the spelling bee. She reminded him again about the school picnic on Friday. Could Sadie come over to play afterward and stay the night?
He heard her and he was paying attention with one part of his mind, but his thoughts were wandering.
What was keeping his fraa?
Had Doc Hanson found something seriously wrong with Abigail? Had he sent her on to the hospital? But if that were the case, Miriam would have found a way to send word to him.
“Dat. Are you listening?”
“Sure. Ya, of course I am.”
Grace stepped in front of him, her lunch pail in one hand and the books she insisted on carrying herself in the other.
“You are?”
“Yes.” Gabe ran his thumbs under his suspenders, as he glanced back up the road.
“What did I say?”
“You came in second in the spelling bee.”
“Uh-huh. Go on.”
“School picnic’s Friday.”
“And then?”
“You want Sadie to stay over on Friday. Sounds gut, but let’s ask your mamm.”
She squinted at him. “What else?”
“There was more?”
Grace trudged ahead and flopped on the front porch steps. “I knew you didn’t hear me. I told you all about Adam Lapp and how he keeps following us around. Not following us, exactly, but popping up at odd times. And that’s not all. One minute he’ll be nice to me, and the next minute I’ll ask him something and he’ll ignore me completely. I don’t know what to make of it.”
Something in his daughter’s voice caught his attention, his complete attention, and for a moment he forgot everything but the little person right in front of him.
“How old are you?”
“Dat.” Grace began to giggle, and then she fell over on to her back, staring up at the porch ceiling. “I’m nine—”
The word stretched out between them.
He sat on the porch next to her. On impulse he lay back too, staring up at the unpainted wood boards of the porch roof. A few cobwebs were in one corner, and a mud dauber’s nest from last summer was in the other. “I remember nine.”
“Must have been a long time ago.”
“Ya, but nine isn’t something you forget.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It’s the last of your single digit years. It’s important.”
A bee buzzed over them before flying off in search of sweeter pickings.
“This Adam, he used to bother you when we first moved here.”
“True, but that was a long time ago, way back before our first Christmas. Since then we became freinden. Now he acts a little strange. I don’t know what to make of it.”
Something in Gabe’s heart twisted, and he thought of Hope. He closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the old porch boards, and recalled her sweet face, how much he had loved her. He adored Miriam and was grateful for his new life, but how he wished that Hope could have had this talk with Grace.
Pulling in a deep breath, he began the conversation he most certainly wasn’t ready to have.
“You know that boys and girls sometimes feel sweet on each other.”
Grace popped up and placed a hand on his chest, right where the pain had been a moment earlier. She stared down into his face, her brown eyes wide and serious.
“I’m a kid, dat. I’m nine.”
“Ya. True. But even at your age—”
“Adam’s a year older.”
“Oh.”
“Double digit.” Grace lay back down, but this time she twined the fingers of her left hand with his right.
“Right. Well, that’s probably the age boys start thinking how pretty young girls are. Maybe Adam is confused by his feelings.”
Silence stretched between them. Gabe heard Gus braying out in the pasture, followed by the sound of Chance neighing in response. The rhythms and sounds of farm life had a soothing effect on his father’s heart.
As did the rapidly changing moods of his daughter.
“I guess I’ll go see Hunter now.” Grace jumped up, dusted off her dress and hopped down the steps. Humming to herself, she stacked her lunch pail and books. Gone were her worries, or so it seemed. She turned away from him without another word.
“Don’t forget your chores,” he called after her.
She never even slowed down, only waved as she skipped toward the barn.
He stood and stretched, which was when he saw Belle pulling Miriam’s buggy down the lane. His heart skipped in the same way Grace had, and he realized he’d been more than a little worried. But she was home now. Everything was fine with his family.
Or so he thought, until he reached the buggy and saw the expression on his fraa’s face. If he had to put a name t
o it, he would say it was exhaustion wrapped in fear.
Chapter 20
Grace had never been shy about her drawing.
She’d actually never thought about others’ opinions of what she did that much. Drawing what she saw, what caught her eye, was something she loved doing when her chores were done, when school was out, and when her baby sister was asleep. Why would she be shy about it?
Her dat wasn’t bashful about his farming. Her mamm wasn’t timid about proclaiming the newest thing Rachel had done, but neither did it seem as though she was boasting. Rachel was the most beautiful thing Grace had ever seen. Mammi wasn’t shy about her quilting. She said Gotte expected everyone to use their gifts.
So when her mamm brought up the subject of her drawing at breakfast Saturday morning, Grace wasn’t quite sure what to think about it.
“I want to take you over to the cabins today, Grace. Lydia and Aaron would like you to draw a picture for them—a picture they can put on postcards.”
“They said so?”
“Yes. When your mammi and I stopped by earlier in the week. I told them you couldn’t do it before today because of school.”
Grace glanced at Sadie, who shrugged and reached for her glass of milk. They’d had a lot of fun the night before, playing ball with Hunter, making new furniture for Stanley’s box, and taking her cat, Stormy, into the barn and watching him chase mice.
“Can Sadie go?”
“Sadie’s mamm said to have her home before ten. I believe she has chores.”
Sadie nodded, her milk mustache causing Grace to dissolve into giggles.
“Seems to me you need some Danish muffins to go with that milk,” Gabe said, passing her the plate of warm sweet bread.
“I have chores too.”
“I’ll take care of those today, Gracie.” Gabe broke a muffin in half and slipped a pat of butter on one side. He aimed for more, but Miriam moved the dish out of his reach.
“Aaron and Lydia need your help.” Miriam refilled Gabe’s kaffi cup, and then she walked out of the room to tend to Rachel, who was letting the whole world know she was awake.
“They need my help drawing?” No one had ever asked her to draw before.
A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) Page 14