by Sarah Price
“Faith?” Anna asked. “You alright?”
With a forced smile, Faith nodded her head. “Of course,” she answered. “Just thinking about what to make for supper tonight.”
It was almost an hour later when Manuel returned. Sadie and Benjamin ran into the house first. They were full of energy and overly excited about something. It took a few minutes to get them to calm down before they could explain what they had seen.
Sadie finally blurted out, “The neighbors! Their tree in the yard, that big old oak tree, was hit by lightning and pieces of the tree fell onto the house!”
Faith gasped. “No one was hurt, I hope!”
Sadie shook her head. “Nee, no one was hurt.”
“Thank the Lord!”
Manuel walked into the room and headed over to where Gideon still slept. He tousled his son’s hair, calling his name in order to rouse him. “Gid,” he said. “Need your help at the Zook’s farm.” He looked at Anna. “You should come, too.”
“Why, I think they could use all of our help,” Faith said. “Are they planning to try to fix it today?”
Manuel frowned at her offer. “Have to get the limb down first. See how much damage there is. No need for the younger ones to go.”
Faith saw the disappointed look in Sadie’s face. She reached out and touched the little girl’s shoulder and, when Sadie looked up, Faith smiled. “We’ll do something nice for the family, then. We can make a nice casserole to take over to them. Surely they will be preoccupied and won’t have time to think about supper.” That idea seemed to appease Sadie for she grinned and nodded. “You can help me take it over there later, ok?”
It was almost three o’clock when Sadie and Faith walked down the road toward the Zook’s farm. Mary had volunteered to stay home with Ruthie and Benjamin. Skipping down the road, her bare feet dirty on the heels, Sadie held Faith’s hand and pointed out the different birds that she saw along the way. The sun lingered in the sky, its rays warm on Faith’s face. She inhaled deeply, smelling the fresh air.
“I love summer time,” Sadie said. “Don’t you, Faith?”
“Oh yes,” Faith responded, squeezing Sadie’s hand a little to emphasize her words. “I love the sunshine and the flowers and the time to relax.”
“You like working?”
Good question, Faith thought as she looked down at Sadie’s sweet face. “Well, I like teaching, that’s for certain,” Faith finally responded.
Pursing her lips as if thinking hard about something, Sadie was quiet for a moment. Faith turned her attention back to the road, directing the little girl closer to the grass when a car drove up behind them. It was disappearing around the bend when Sadie finally asked what was on her mind. “You ever going to get married, Faith?”
Another good question, she thought. She hadn’t dated much in her life, no one seriously. She found that most of the men in her circles were not very interesting. “I suppose one day,” Faith said with a sigh. “It’s not high on my priority list, though.”
“Why not?”
Indeed, Faith said to herself. Why not? “Well,” she started cautiously. “I like living on the farm and helping my father with the cows and haying. And I love being with the children that I teach. I don’t think I’d like to give up being with children.”
“Mayhaps you could do both!”
Faith smiled and quickly changed the subject. “Is that a bluebird I see on the box by the telephone pole?”
Ten minutes later, they were walking up to the Zook’s house. The men were already on the roof, hammering shingles over a freshly constructed patch over the kitchen. Outside on a picnic table, Anna was pouring lemonade into a cup and handing it to the Zook’s older son. Faith smiled to herself, recognizing the look in Anna’s eye as Jonas thanked her for the refreshment, quickly drinking it and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“Faith!” Anna called out when she noticed Faith and Sadie approaching. “You should have seen that hole in the roof! They are quite lucky no one was hurt.”
Setting the basket down on the picnic table, Faith turned around and looked up, her eyes quickly taking in the scene of Manuel, Gideon, and the senior Zook finishing up the work on the roof. She noticed Manuel pause and rub his forehead before glancing down to where Faith stood with his daughters. He seemed to contemplate her standing there, a strange look on his face, a look that she had seen only one time before: the Schee day, the day Rebecca had dressed Faith in Amish clothing.
Miriam Zook walked out the open kitchen door and frowned when she saw Faith standing there. It took her a moment to recognize the Englischer standing among the children. “You’re Rebecca’s friend, then?” she asked as she approached Faith. She was a large Amish woman with greying hair protruding from beneath her prayer kapp. Faith recognized her from the funeral and knew that she was a busy woman with ten children, the two older daughters already married and with babies. “The one who has been helping out with the kinner this summer, ja?”
Faith smiled, introducing herself. “We met at the funeral, I think,” she added.
Crossing her arms over her big bosom, Miriam shook her head and glanced at Sadie who was already busy picking up small pieces of shingles that had been tossed to the ground. “Such a tragedy, that,” Miriam said with a loud sigh. “Those poor kinner. And to think that Anna is approaching her time without a mamm.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue, a look of sorrow on her face.
Faith glanced over at Anna who was helping Sadie. The young girl continued to steal glances at Jonas, unbeknownst to the object of her affection. “Yes, that is sad,” Faith admitted, her heart heavy as she said the words. Then, trying to lighten the subject, Faith gestured toward the basket. “Sadie and I made you a casserole for supper. Figured you might be too busy to cook with all of this activity.”
“That was right nice of you,” Miriam said, looking into the basket. “Good of Manuel to come check on us after that storm.”
Faith nodded. “That was some storm, wasn’t it? Blew in so fast!”
“Ja, that it did!” she affirmed, nodding her head. “Wonder how Manuel knew?”
“Oh that was the children’s doing! We were watching the storm by the kitchen window. It was Benjamin who saw the lightning strike and told his daed,” Faith explained.
“Did he, now?” Miriam seemed surprised to hear that. “He’s always been so scared of storms!”
Faith laughed. “I taught him a trick to calculate the distance of the lightning and that seemed to preoccupy him. Took his mind off of the storm and his fears.”
Miriam raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you clever?” Despite the compliment, there was something in Miriam’s tone that spoke of an underlying thought as she assessed the Englischer standing before her. “Those kinner must be right attached to you, then,” she said casually.
“They’re great children,” Faith replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and wishing Anna would come back to help change the direction of the conversation. Glancing up at the roof, Faith saw that Manuel was still watching her and, without knowing why, she felt the color flood to her cheeks. “Looks like they are almost finished, yes?” She turned away from the house and busied herself with removing the casserole from the basket and handing it to Miriam.
Chapter Seven
Before Faith realized it, August was coming to an end. It had been over four months since Rebecca had passed away and the school year would soon be starting. The kinner would return to their one room schoolhouse and Faith would get back to her own classroom. It broke Faith’s heart that Anna would be left at home to care for Ruthie and the house. But try as she might, Faith couldn’t come up with a solution.
For two months, she had spent five days a week at the Petersheim’s home, cooking and cleaning, washing and gardening. It was a routine that she had become accustomed to and would surely miss, almost as much as she would miss the kinner. Slowly, she had come to learn and appreciate exactly why Rebecca had thrived so much on being
a good Amish woman. There was a joy to each day that Faith had never experienced before those weeks spent at the Petersheim’s.
So when she walked into the house on that Monday of her last week helping the family, she was surprised to find the house in complete disarray. Gone was the order from Friday when she had left. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink. Toys were scattered on the floor. And she could hear the baby crying from upstairs.
“What in the world…?” she said aloud even though no one was nearby to hear her words.
She hurried up the stairs to where the baby was, surprised to see her still in the crib in Anna’s room. This hadn’t been the routine at all, she thought angrily as she picked up Ruthie and tried to console her. With a wet diaper and an empty belly, there was no amount of comfort that Faith could give her. Instead, she quickly changed Ruthie into dry and clean clothing before taking her downstairs to fix her a morning bottle. They sat on the sofa, Ruthie snuggled into Faith’s arms, for at least twenty minutes before the other kinner came into the kitchen.
“Where have you been?” Faith demanded. “What has happened here since Friday?”
Anna looked tired and plopped herself into a chair. Resting her cheek on her arm, she stared at Faith. “Daed’s sick.”
The other children looked just as weary. Sadie and Benjamin crawled onto the sofa next to her, Benjamin leaning against her and shutting his eyes. Faith frowned and realized that, if Manuel was sick, the kinner must have been tending to the dairy by themselves all weekend. That was a lot of cows to milk and manure to shovel for five young children.
“Didn’t anyone stop in this weekend to visit or help?” Faith asked.
“Oh ja, Lydia and her family did but Daed told them he didn’t need their help, that he was feeling better,” Gideon offered.
That didn’t surprise Faith. She had seen Manuel’s stubborn side. “Where is he now?”
Gideon glanced upstairs, answering her question without words.
After handing Sadie the baby, Faith hurried back upstairs and hesitated outside the door to the main bedroom where Manuel slept. Knocking softly on the door, she quietly opened it and peered inside the dark room. The shades were drawn down and the windows were shut. She was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of illness. Frowning, she went over to the closest window and opened it, lifting the shade enough so she could see her way around the room.
He was sleeping in the bed, the covers up to his chest. He hadn’t even heard her enter the room.
Approaching the bed, she said his name softly, hoping to elicit a response.
Nothing.
She reached out her hand and touched his forehead. The temperature of his skin shocked her. He was burning up with fever. “Manuel?” she repeated softly and nudged him with her fingers.
“Rebecca?”
For some reason, the word cut through her. After all that I have done, she thought but stopped herself before she went further. “It’s Faith, Manuel. You’re burning up. I am going to call the doctor.”
“Nee, nee,” he started to argue, waving a weak hand at her.
“How long have you been like this?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she walked to the doorway and called down the stairwell for Mary to bring her a glass of cool water and a wet cloth. “You need to go see someone for treatment, Manuel.”
“I’m fine,” he said, his voice weak and barely audible contradicting that very statement through his thick, chapped lips.
Faith waited for Mary and quickly took the glass of water from her. She hurried to the bed and, despite feeling uncomfortable, she sat on the edge of the bed and helped him raise his head so that he could drink the water. “Just a little,” she coaxed. “Not too much.” Setting down the glass onto the nightstand, Faith waved to Mary to give her the wet cloth. She took it and placed it on Manuel’s forehead, her hand pressing it gently against his hot skin. “How long have you been ill?”
“Started Saturday morning,” he managed to say. “Got bad yesterday.”
She was frustrated. All of her life, she had lived among these people. Yet she still couldn’t understand their reluctance to ask for help when needed. “This is ridiculous,” she said, mostly to herself. “You need to see a doctor. You need someone to come help you, Manuel. Isn’t there someone? A niece?”
He shook his head. “Need to do it myself,” he mumbled and let his head fall to the side, the effort of speaking having exhausted him.
Faith lifted the cloth from his head and sighed. “Manuel, when will you learn? People are here to help you.” She paused. Why was he so adamant to accepting the assistance of others? Her entire life living next to the Amish had taught her that Amish helped others. Truly, he couldn’t be of the mindset that help only went one way and that was from him to others, never to be returned in his direction. Or perhaps, she thought, it’s just my help that he doesn’t accept. “I am here to help you,” she added hesitantly.
In a surprise gesture, he reached for her hand. The movement was slow but deliberate. His touch on her hand startled her and, for a moment, she almost withdrew it. But then, she remembered that this was Manuel, not some stranger, and he was in need. His eyes, so dull with illness, touched her. “You are a great help, Faith,” he whispered and then, shutting his eyes, he sighed as he repeated the words, “Great help.”
Looking over her shoulder at Mary, Faith gestured toward the door as she lowered her voice. “More cool water in a basin, sweet Mary. I want to keep his forehead cool until the fever breaks. And ask Anna to cook up some chicken. The broth will do him good.”
Without an argument, Mary did as she was instructed, never questioning Faith who remained seated next to her daed on the bed, his hand still covering hers, as he slept.
She stared at him, her eyes beginning to tear up as she thought of the pain that Manuel had been feeling for the past few months. Yet, she had witnessed a humble recovery in him. His words were few and far between but he smiled more often at the children and seemed to draw the boys into his world more frequently. And every so often, Faith would catch him standing in the doorway, silent and relaxed, watching as Faith worked with the girls in the kitchen. A sense of normalcy was returning to the Petersheim farm.
Until now.
With Manuel being sick, how could she return to work, she asked herself? How could she desert the family that she had struggled so hard to help over the past summer? The inner turmoil that she felt, sitting by Manuel’s side and having her hand held by him, was deep. Too deep. She shut her eyes and said a prayer, praying for his swift recovery from illness and her swift recovery from the questions that had begun to form in her mind.
For the rest of the morning, she directed the children on what to do, giving them small tasks to begin cleaning the kitchen and preparing a good broth for their daed. She spent the day monitoring him, taking turns with Mary at keeping his forehead cool so that she could escape back to the kitchen, tasting the stock and helping with the mess.
“School starts tomorrow,” Anna said glumly as she helped Faith dry the dishes.
“I know that.”
“I won’t be returning,” Anna added.
Silence. There was nothing to say. Faith leaned her wet hands on the sides of the kitchen sink and gazed out the window. It was a beautiful day. If she hadn’t looked at the calendar, she never would have known it was the end of summer. There was a breeze that kept the house cool, despite the sun high overhead. It felt more like spring to Faith. And spring was a time of new beginnings. The very new beginnings that Anna was owed.
“Yes you will,” Faith announced, her words short and even.
Anna stopped drying the pan in her hand and stared at Faith.
“I’m taking a leave of absence, Anna.” Faith could barely believe that she was saying these words. A leave of absence. “Your mother would want you to continue to go to school. It’s not fair for you to put your life on hold. And I made a promise, a promise I want nothing more than to keep.” Faith turned a
round and faced Anna. With a smile, a smile filled with love for the eager and hopeful face that stared back at her, Faith reached out and touched Anna’s cheek. “So yes, dear Anna, you will go back to school.”
Three days had passed since Faith had made up her mind and notified the school that she needed to invoke Family Medical Leave. That gave her twelve weeks to continue caring for the Petersheim’s until she could figure out her next step. She had quickly gotten into a routine, arriving at the Petersheim’s in time to oversee the preparation of breakfast. After everyone had eaten, she saw the children off to school, her heart warming at the broad, genuine smile Anna bestowed upon her each morning. The gratitude that Anna showed for the sacrifice that had been made in order to insure she could continue her education truly touched Faith.
During the day, Faith spent most of her time split between tending to Ruthie and the regular chores: cleaning, laundry, and cooking. When the children returned home from school, they immediately clamored into the kitchen, eager to tell her about their day while happily snacking on freshly baked bread or sugar cookies. Then, they would hurry to the barn to help with the evening milking, all but Anna who stayed behind to help Faith in the kitchen.
Faith had sensed Anna’s need for individual attention over the summer. She seemed to long for time alone with Faith, time to talk or simply to work alongside her. As frequently as possible, Faith tried to send the other children outside or assign them a chore that kept them busy in order to provide Anna with that time. It was more than obvious how much Anna missed her mamm, but it was also obvious that Faith was filling that void.
Manuel noticed it, too. On more than one occasion, he came downstairs in the afternoon, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and paused on the bottom step, watching the interaction between Faith and Anna. The first time that Faith caught him watching them, she was startled and hurried over to him.