Clara’s answer was to tuck her arm through Lydia’s.
It was rare that Lydia felt close to her sister, but she did in that moment. Or maybe it was that she was worried about the Englischer standing next to Aaron. Something about the man bothered her, even from a distance, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what.
Better they go and confront him together.
Chapter 25
Grace sat on an overturned milk pail as her daddi Joshua added feed to the buckets in the horse stalls. Usually she followed along behind him, stroking the buggy horses on the nose and standing on a stool to touch the big workhorses. She’d even feed each one a treat—some raisins or a slice of apple. She couldn’t do it today, though. Today she felt all trembly.
So instead she sat on the milk pail, whacking the floor with a stick.
When her daddi was done with the feeding, he returned to the front of the barn. Pepper trotted behind him, close on his heels. Daddi sat down beside her on an old crate and picked up a sanding block. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he went to work on a large square piece of wood. It was bigger than his lap, and he kept having to turn it to work on it. Pepper dropped to the ground between them, close enough that Grace could reach out and touch his ears, which she had to do.
Who could resist Pepper? The German shorthaired pointer was black with little patches of white and brown. Grace thought Pepper was the closest thing to perfect she’d ever seen. Maybe more perfect than her own dog, Hunter—though it would be hard to choose. She adored those animals, and tonight Pepper almost had the power to make her heart ache a little less.
“Remember when Pepper found me in that snow cave?” Grace asked. Unable to resist the look in the old dog’s eyes, she slipped off her pail to the floor, moved closer so she sat right up against him, and buried her face in his soft, silky coat.
“Sure I remember. That was something.”
“It was a miracle.”
“Suppose it was.”
“Gotte was watching out for me.”
“That He was, Gracie.”
“And He sent Pepper.”
Daddi smiled at her, and then he resumed sanding the piece of wood.
“Do you believe He sent Doc Hanson to watch over mammi?”
“Could be. Doc seems to be doing a gut job.”
Grace felt better while she was holding on to Pepper. Her stomach stopped flipping, but she still felt trembly, like the leaves in the fall. Like she might blow away.
She might as well ask. Daddi had never lied to her before.
“What if the medicine doesn’t work? What if mammi gets worse? What will we do?”
Daddi set aside the block of wood and joined her on the floor of the barn, on the other side of Pepper, who seemed happy with all the attention. “You know the Bible tells us that Gotte has a plan for each of our lives.”
“Ya, I know that.”
“And He has a gut plan for Abigail’s life.”
“Does it include her getting sick?”
“I don’t know. I hope it includes her getting well. I’m trusting in Gotte’s gut plan. You can always trust in His word, and in His promises. That’s what it says in Jeremiah.”
“Ya. I memorized that verse.”
“Can you say it to me?”
“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”
“Gut!” Daddi stood. When he did his knees popped. He looked at her and winked, which made Grace laugh. “My knees sound like the popping corn in the pan. That happens when you’re old.”
Sitting back on the wooden crate, he returned to working on the piece of wood. Grace had no idea what it was going to be. It didn’t look like a bowl because it was square. She couldn’t see what was on top.
“The verses that follow the one you quoted are important too. You’re growing old enough to learn to study the Bible and not just memorize what a teacher gives you.”
“I’m nine.” Grace sat up straighter. Daddi knew how old she was. He’d hired a driver and taken them all to the top of Wildcat Mountain State Park for her birthday. They’d had a picnic and walked the trails. She’d seen wild deer and trees taller than any she’d ever imagined. Daddi had not forgotten her ninth birthday.
“The verses that come directly after the one you quoted from Joshua speak to Gotte’s desire for us. They say, ‘Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.’”
Grace stared at Pepper, who didn’t seem perturbed at all.
“Does that mean His plan won’t work if we don’t pray enough?”
“Nein, child. I wouldn’t say that. But we might not understand it if we don’t pray enough.”
“Ya. There’s a lot I don’t understand.”
“Have you been praying much?”
“I try.” Grace stood and followed him as he put away his sandpaper and closed up the barn for the evening. “Sometimes, though, in the middle of my prayers, my mind wanders. I start thinking of school or drawing. Half the time I fall asleep. And the other half I go off worrying about things.”
She was beginning to feel worse again.
If mammi’s health was depending on her prayer life, they were in big trouble.
Daddi stopped at the pasture fence and pointed toward one of the calves that was trying to nurse. The big brown heifer tolerated it for a moment before she walked away.
“See how that cow treated her calf?”
“Kind of rude.”
Daddi’s laugh rang out across the field. “She’s teaching it. The calf has to learn to eat other things than milk. It won’t grow strong enough on milk alone.”
“Okay…” She drew the word out as she ran the stick along the pasture fence. Pepper ran a few feet in front of them, sniffing for ground birds, but he always circled back.
“Gotte is always teaching us, Grace. Same as that heifer is teaching that calf.”
“I feel like a calf sometimes.”
“Is that right?”
“Sure. I don’t like it when things are hard. Look how the calf is running after its mamm. That’s me. Running after Miriam.” She laughed in spite of her misery. The calf did look funny. He wasn’t quite skilled on his four legs yet, and the heifer was once again allowing him to nurse.
Daddi put his hand on her back. “Gotte doesn’t mind your attempts at prayer, even when they fall short. You keep trying. He loves you, Gracie, more than that heifer loves that calf—much more. He’ll take care of you and me and your mammi as well.”
“But there’s no promise she’ll get well.”
“Nope. We don’t get that kind of promise in this life. The promise we get is that He loves us. You can count on that one.”
Grace threw her arms around his waist. He smelled of barns and wood and calves. He smelled like grossdaddi.
More than anything, that sent the trembles away and calmed her stomach.
As they climbed the porch steps, she was greeted by the smell of oatmeal cookies. Someone had felt well enough to cook.
“Cookies, milk, and checkers sound gut?” Daddi held up the piece of wood, and she saw that it was a new checkerboard.
“It’s beautiful.” Grace took it from his hands and ran her fingers over the pattern of light wood against dark. “When did you have time to make this?”
“A few minutes here and there are easy to find. I sent the last board with your youngest cousin—he needs the practice. I know how this family loves a gut game, so I made another.”
Grace thought the evening was one of their best ever. She still didn’t understand exactly what her grossmammi was suffering from—though now she knew the name of it was a disease called hyperthyroidism. Her mamm had explained it to her on the ride over, but Grace couldn’t imagine how a thing in your neck, a thing you couldn’t even feel, could make you so sick. Your heart? Yes. She could put
her hand to her chest and feel her heart beat. But something in your neck? That was hard to imagine.
The important thing was that Doc Hanson would give mammi the medicine she needed on Friday—something radioactive, which sounded horrible.
If it worked, they would all be grateful for the medicine. If it made her well, she supposed horrible was fine.
Until they knew for sure, Grace would pray.
Chapter 26
Gabe was happy to be laboring in his fields. The sun was shining on his back, the workhorses were hitched to his plow, and his arms ached from the effort of hours of work.
Finally the restlessness that had plagued him for weeks disappeared. If it meant he fell asleep the moment he dropped into bed, that wasn’t a problem. His fraa smiled and said she understood. What did concern him was that he woke with more aches than he’d ever had before.
When he first stood in the morning, he feared his legs might buckle. That was what months of working in the barn did to a man—softened him and added an extra five pounds where he didn’t need it. Gabe refused to accept that it could be his age. He was only thirty-four, which was not an old man. Men across the community, men far older than he, were in the fields today. However, there was no denying that his knees hurt. His legs ached. His abdomen felt as if their donkey Gus had run into him at top speed.
Yet in spite of the soreness, working in the fields improved Gabe’s mood. It would also toughen him up, which apparently he needed. Next winter he would find a way to stay in better shape. Perhaps he would have sons to follow his two dochdern. He wanted to still be able to plow a field by the time they were able to work beside him.
That thought—of sons—brought a smile to his face and helped him push past the muscle fatigue. He plowed for another hour, his mind focused on the horses, the rows, and the crops that would grow. The four Belgian draft horses were powerful, hardworking animals. Three sorrels and a red, they were handsome geldings. Young and healthy, they stood between seventeen and eighteen hands high. They were too large to ride comfortably, but Gabe hadn’t bought them for riding…he’d bought them for plowing.
The animals seemed to recognize that.
They pulled the plow in unison, responding to Gabe’s direction easily. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps they were as relieved to be working as he was. The labor was gut. It was what they had waited the winter for. With the fields finally dry enough to be worked, he was eager to allow it to exhaust him. He might have continued through lunch, but by the time he saw Miriam step outside the back door, placing food on the table under the shade tree, he was dripping with sweat and as needful as the horses for a break.
“Out here is a gut idea for lunch,” he said, as he washed off at the pump. “I believe I smell bad. You wouldn’t want me inside.”
Miriam smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Rachel asleep?”
“Ya. I cracked the window a little so I could hear if she wakes up.”
They bowed their heads, and as they prayed silently over the noon meal, Gabe asked for wisdom. He knew his fraa’s heart was heavy, and he suspected he knew why, but how was he to help her? How was he to ease the pain she was experiencing?
He knew from his own past that sometimes waiting was the worst, and Abigail wasn’t scheduled to go to the medical center in Eau Claire until Friday.
What comfort could he offer?
They had both taken the first bite of their sandwiches when Rachel let out a howl which could be heard quite easily through the open window—could probably be heard across the field to where he’d left the horses.
Miriam closed her eyes, chewing her food as Rachel’s cry picked up steam.
“Would you like me to fetch her?”
“I would not,” she said, glancing under the table to stare at his work boots, caked in mud.
“What I hear you saying is that I might be more trouble than I’m worth.”
Instead of answering, Miriam took one more bite of her sandwich, this one so large she had trouble chewing and wagged her finger at him. “Don’t eat my sandwich.”
The words were barely discernible, but the fact that he saw a hint of humor in her eyes eased a little of his own worry.
She returned with a red-faced Rachel, rubbing her eyes and hiccupping now that she was being held by her mamm.
“Teething?” Gabe asked.
Miriam rubbed her finger along Rachel’s bottom front gum. “I don’t think so. Honestly I don’t know what’s wrong with her. No fever. No runny nose. And no teething.”
Sitting back down at the table, she took another bite of her sandwich, misery etched on her face.
“Maybe she has cabin fever,” Gabe offered.
Miriam gave him what he’d taken to calling her teacher look. “We don’t live in a cabin.”
“True, but I imagine the same condition could claim a person regardless where they live or who they are—boppli or mamm.”
Jerking her gaze up, Miriam sat perfectly still for five seconds. Finally she shrugged. “I can’t go to my parents’. Mamm says I worry over her like a bird over newly hatched eggs. She’s practically banned me until I ride with them on Friday to Eau Claire. I don’t much feel like visiting with Esther or Lydia. I’m not exactly in a visiting mood.”
“Hmm…that is a predicament.” Gabe stood and walked around the table. He took Rachel from her arms and laughed when she smiled at him.
“You won’t laugh if she’s doing what I think she’s doing.”
“Did you hear that, Rachel? She says you’re making a mess.”
Rachel grunted and confirmed Miriam’s suspicion. The odor that followed overpowered even Gabe’s bad smell.
“Back into the house for us,” Miriam said wearily.
“How about you clean up this little one, and then you two come out into the fields with me?”
“Fields?”
“Sure. I seem to remember someone used to like sitting outside while I plowed, back last year before this bundle of joy was born.”
“The carefree days.” Miriam sighed.
“Clean her up, mamm. Pack a blanket, some toys, and a book you’ve been meaning to read. I’ll walk you two to the far side of the field and leave you under your favorite stand of trees.”
“Gabriel Miller. You’re suggesting I forget my housework and go sit under a tree while you plow?”
Gabe stepped closer and traced her face—brow to chin—with his fingertips, and then he slipped his hand to her shoulder and massaged the tight muscle there. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. It wouldn’t hurt for you to take a few hours off, and I believe it would help me to plow a straighter row if I had two beautiful gals at the far end.”
Miriam shook her head at his teasing, but he noticed a light blush in her cheeks. She also glanced toward the far grove of trees, as if they were beckoning her.
“You’ve worked extra, helping at your mamm’s home, helping with the cabins, and the work here. A few hours watching Rachel and sitting in the shade isn’t a sin, Miriam. It will ease your mind. And I suspect your work in the house is done anyway.”
“I finished an hour ago.”
“Wunderbaar.”
“It would be nice to do some sewing outside.”
“It would.”
She took their daughter from his arms and started toward the house, but she stopped, turned back, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him on the lips. “Danki, Gabe.”
Before he could think how to respond, she went inside to change Rachel.
A few hours outside wouldn’t solve all her problems. He didn’t have the ability to do that, but he was glad the note of despair had left her voice. He was satisfied with that for the moment. Tomorrow they would deal with the problems that came with it—and they would deal with them together.
Miriam should have realized that some time outside would remedy the blues she had been feeling. Maybe she hadn’t understood how much the house had closed in on her lately. M
aybe she didn’t appreciate how much a different perspective could help.
She was sitting under her favorite grove of trees—the same grove she’d sat under last October and watched as Gabe had harvested the crops, watched while she’d thought about the babe growing inside her. Somehow in her mind, this shady spot had become their special place. Even Rachel seemed to realize it. She played with the rattle from Rae—this one blue-and-yellow triangles with a cow’s head. It was the silliest-looking thing.
Rae was coming for lunch tomorrow. Miriam missed seeing her, and she couldn’t wait to hear all about the latest news story she was chasing—something about a string of robberies in the next district.
She spent an hour sewing, and Rachel soon fell asleep on the blanket. Miriam found the sense of peace she’d been chasing all week. She hadn’t found it while praying, and she certainly hadn’t found it while she’d done the chores inside. Perhaps she needed to be outside, out where God’s world had opened to summer’s bloom.
As she ran the needle and thread through an apron she was hemming for Grace, it occurred to her how silly she’d been. She could have gone outside and worked in her garden. In fact, she had worked there one afternoon when Grace had come home from school. And before that, last Saturday, she’d worked outside at the cabins.
The shaded spot under the trees was special, though—it was a balm to her heart. She would remember it next time she felt pressed down and out of sorts. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t walk out here anytime she wanted to come, though carrying Rachel and all their things so far might be a challenge. She’d need a wagon. Her baby girl was growing every day.
She did like watching the big horses and Gabe working behind them. One of the sorrels had a white stripe down his forehead. Grace had named him Gideon. The other two sorrels she’d named Big and Billy. The red might have been Miriam’s favorite. He was a velvety color, and Grace called him Prince. In the fall, Gabe hooked up the wagon behind the giant horses and they gathered the crops. She’d helped some, and it reminded her of when she was a child and in the fields with her father.
A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) Page 18