Cousin Herman nodded and sent Ruth a warm smile. “I know. She’s been regaling me with school stories. All I can say is, I admire schoolteachers for their grit and stamina. Not to mention their smarts.” He sent another smile in Ruth’s direction.
Her face flamed bright red. What had Phoebe gotten Ruth into? Cousin Herman must know about the Fishers’ reputation, and Ruth was taking his banter seriously.
Phoebe looked away. Thankfully, Hettie appeared with the pecan and lemon cream pies, and Cousin Herman was soon occupied with his dessert. Phoebe stole a glance toward Ruth, who had her head down.
“Excellent, excellent, eating!” Cousin Herman declared. “I am glad I stayed for Millie’s supper invitation.”
“I thought it was my excellent company,” Phoebe shot back.
Cousin Herman roared with laughter again. “I am blessed, to say the least. I’ve known you for a long time, Phoebe, but not Ruth.” He gave her a meaningful glance. “Where has this woman been?”
Phoebe bit back a retort. Ruth kept her head turned, but a flush of red went all the way up her neck into her white kapp.
“Excellent, excellent,” Cousin Herman repeated, and he dipped back into his two pieces of pie, oblivious to the reaction he had created in Ruth. But how could he not see?
The chatter continued around the table as Cousin Herman concentrated on his plate and Ruth studiously ignored both of them. Phoebe was ready for a piece of pie when the others finished, and then the last prayer of thanksgiving was offered. She motioned with her finger for Millie’s oldest daughter to come over. When Beth approached, Phoebe whispered in her ear, “The Englisha boy, Wesley, can’t talk very well. He stutters. See that the games are explained to him without his having to ask.”
“We’ll do that,” Beth assured her, and she walked over to offer Wesley a smile and her hand.
“We’re ready to go out and play,” she told him. “Do you want to come with me? I’ll explain things.”
He nodded and followed Beth out the front door.
“That was sweet of you,” Cousin Herman commented. “You are a lot like Grandma Lapp. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“I am not,” Phoebe protested. But the praise still warmed her. “But thank you,” she told him a moment later. “Maybe I did need to hear that.”
He nodded wisely and smiled. “We all do from time to time.”
Ruth leaped up and scurried into the kitchen while Phoebe finished her pie. Cousin Herman turned his attention to the men’s conversation. Then Phoebe gathered up a stack of empty plates and maneuvered her way back through the dining room. She would have to speak to Ruth about Cousin Herman before the evening ended and explain his tendencies—unless she should let things run their course. But Ruth as Cousin Herman’s frau? Now wouldn’t that be the Lord’s way of bringing about goot from a bad situation.
She must keep her finger out of this pie and simply trust in Him.
THIRTY-FOUR
Darkness had fallen outside Aunt Millie’s kitchen window as the women worked to clear the dining room table and wash the dishes. Phoebe stood at the sink with soapsuds up to her elbows and Ruth at the drying strainer beside her. Questions niggled at Phoebe, but she suppressed them. She must not inquire about Ruth’s feelings for Cousin Herman.
Phoebe gave Ruth a gentle smile. “The children are sure having a great time tonight.”
Ruth nodded. “Seems like I hear children’s voices in my dreams of late. I wasn’t used to having them around me all day.”
“Kinner are a blessing of the Lord,” Phoebe mused.
“Especially one’s own,” Ruth whispered, and her face flamed again.
Cousin Herman must have gotten to her for Ruth to express such pensive thoughts. “Has Ethan contacted you?” Phoebe asked out of the corner of her mouth.
A pained look crossed Ruth’s face.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Phoebe hastened to say.
“He didn’t, and it’s okay,” Ruth told her. “I’d be surprised if he ever does, but maybe…”
Phoebe plunged her hands into the soapy water. She scrubbed the stubborn stains on the mashed potato bowl until the suds rose even higher.
Thankfully, Ruth changed the subject. “How are things going with Wesley?”
“He’s out there playing. I’m happy about that, and Beth is looking out for him…”
She paused as Ruth stared out the window. “That looks like fire.”
“Fire!” Phoebe jerked her head up. “Where!”
The answer was obvious, and Ruth had already turned to press through the crowd of women. “The barn is on fire!” Ruth shouted into the living room.
Loud thumps and crashes and thudding of feet were heard as the men hurriedly exited the house. Phoebe tried to move away from the sink, but her path was blocked by the women who rushed toward the mudroom door en masse. She pressed forward but was still the last one outside. Ruth was nowhere in sight, and children stood transfixed everywhere, with the women gathering them into their arms. Several single girls raced back and forth on the lawn, apparently trying to account for everyone. They appeared satisfied.
“Where’s Wesley?” Phoebe called out.
“Over here!” Aunt Millie called.
Phoebe ran toward the sound to find Aunt Millie holding Wesley’s hand. The boy trembled from head to foot as he stared at the flames that shot out of the open barn door. The men ran around in front of them, organizing a bucket brigade from the water trough in the barnyard, while several of the older boys wrestled with hoses they had dragged out of Aunt Millie’s garden shed.
Uncle Noah’s clear voice rose above the racket. “Has anyone called the fire department?”
There was a muffled reply, apparently in the affirmative. Phoebe took over Aunt Millie’s post by Wesley’s side while her aunt hurried back into the house. The flames were growing quickly, seemingly unfazed by the buckets of water hurtled through the barn door. One of the boys came racing up with the end of the water hose, the coils finally untangled enough to work the water through. A thin stream rose skyward, and the fire hissed in response.
Would the whole barn go? Someone had opened the doors into the barnyard, and the wild whinnies of the horses filled the air.
Wesley gulped. “I-I-I-I…th-th-this, th-this is m-my f-f-fault.”
“Your fault?” Phoebe peered down at him for a moment. The boy seemed serious. She knelt in front of him. “How could this be your fault?”
“I-I-I tr-tripped over…” He gave up and stared at the flames.
How could Wesley have caused the fire?
“What happened?” Phoebe called to Aunt Hettie, who was the closest woman to her.
“I don’t know.” Aunt Hettie had two of her children wrapped in her apron.
The oldest pointed toward Wesley. “He did it.”
“Wilma!” Aunt Hettie gasped. “How could he do such a thing?”
“He fell over the gas lantern!” Wilma declared. “It went to the ground with a crash.”
Aunt Hettie appeared dumbfounded, joining in her daughter’s frequent glances toward Wesley. Thankfully, they were soon distracted by the flames that continued to dance out of the barn door and had reached the windows on both sides. In the distance, the wail of sirens rose and fell. Phoebe clutched Wesley to her side as they waited.
“Move back! Make way!” Uncle Noah was walking about the yard and waving his arms. “Don’t get in the path of the fire trucks! Give them room!”
Everyone obeyed, pushing backward into Aunt Millie’s garden, the vegetables still in the ground forgotten for the moment.
“I-I-I wa-wasn’t, wasn’t wa-wa-wa-watching where I was going,” Wesley stammered. “I-I-I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Phoebe told him. “Accidents happen.”
“Th-th-they were chasing me.”
“You were supposed to join in the games,” she assured him. “You were not a bad boy.”
He still trembled. Maybe
she should call David to comfort the lad. She hadn’t been around him too much today. What a shock this fire must be. Here he was, dropped off on a strange farm and among strange people, and then taken to a strange place for supper to play games he didn’t know. And now he had caused a fire.
“None of this is your fault,” Phoebe tried again. She hugged him, but he still shook.
Aunt Millie reappeared with a blanket as the first of the fire trucks blasted into the driveway. With a tight pull she secured the quilt around Wesley’s shoulders.
“For shock,” she hollered to Phoebe over the racket. “We have to keep him warm and talk to him.”
How thoughtful of Aunt Millie. Her aunt must know that Wesley had caused the accident by now. Phoebe kept the blanket wrapped around Wesley’s shoulders and a running account of the firefighters’ activity.
“There’s the first truck set up.”
“Looks like they will have no problem keeping enough water in the water trough. The windmill will keep that full.”
“There goes the first blast of water right through the barn door.”
“Looks like it made a dent.”
“And now another one through the window.”
“All they need is a third hose and the barn might be saved. Don’t you think so?” Phoebe peered down at Wesley. His shaking had stopped, but he didn’t answer.
“There’s another fire truck coming,” Phoebe said as a distant siren wail rose from Little Falls. “Thank the Lord the station is so close and we aren’t way out in the country somewhere.”
With Wesley calm, Phoebe ceased her chatter, but she stayed with the boy. Aunt Millie set up a small table near the mudroom door, and the women began setting out the remainder of the pies from the kitchen along with tall pitchers of water. Aunt Millie planned to feed the firefighters once they were finished. Phoebe wanted to help, but her first responsibility was to Wesley. There would be plenty of questions to answer when Ethan or Mrs. Broman picked up the lad on Friday evening. Questions she didn’t want to contemplate.
She must pray. That was about all she seemed to accomplish of late.
“Shall we go inside?” Phoebe asked Wesley.
He shook his head. “I-I-I wa-want to watch.”
“Okay.” She led him over to the porch, and they sat down. Others were doing the same thing with their children. Was she right in thinking the flames had gone down? How could they be otherwise with the amount of water being pumped into the barn? Firefighters were now inside. The barn door was open, and their hoses flopped against the door frame. The barn would be saved, and the damage would be manageable. The Lord was extending His mercy again.
“Thank You, dear Lord, for Your mercy,” Phoebe whispered toward the heavens.
Aunt Millie reappeared to tousle Wesley’s hair. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s not shaking anymore,” Phoebe answered. “Did they save the barn?”
“It appears so,” Aunt Millie confirmed. “Praise the Lord.”
“Yah, I know, but I’m still sorry it happened.”
“But no one was hurt,” Aunt Millie said. “We have much to be thankful for.”
She bustled off as the first of the firemen reappeared in the barn door. Smoke continued to bellow out of the windows, but the worst must be over. Aunt Millie served her pies to any fireman she could wave over. A few came while the rest kept a watch on the smoking barn. They soon swapped places, and the vigil continued. This would not be over for a while yet, and Phoebe knew she and Wesley should get on home.
“Can you stay here while I find David?” she asked Wesley.
He nodded, and Phoebe slipped off the porch to search the crowd. She found David gathering up a garden hose. “Is there any way we could leave?” she asked. “I want to get Wesley back.”
Soot lined David’s face, but he nodded. “I don’t see why not. I’ll find Misty in the barnyard once I finish here.”
“Do you know who started the fire?” she asked him.
His face grew grim. “I heard.”
“Are they blaming Wesley?”
“Not really. Children are children. It could have happened to anyone.”
“I know,” Phoebe agreed. “The Lord continues to be with us. The barn could have burned down.”
He didn’t answer, his hands busy with the garden hose. She took the other end and straightened the tangled knots for him. “We unfolded them in an awful rush.” He grinned.
“But you got the fire out.”
“The firemen did,” he corrected.
“But you helped contain the flames until they arrived. I know. I was watching.”
His smile was still there as he disappeared into Aunt Millie’s garden shed.
Phoebe left to find Aunt Millie beside her small table, serving pieces of pie and large glasses of water. “We’re leaving,” she whispered in her aunt’s ear.
“It was still a goot evening, even with our loss,” Aunt Millie assured her.
Phoebe forced a smile and went to search for Ruth. She hadn’t seen a buggy leave, but Ruth was nowhere around.
“She left,” one of the younger girls finally told Phoebe after her second trip through the house. “She tied her horse down by the ditch.”
Her departure could mean anything, but Phoebe hoped Ruth would also see the Lord’s hand of protection on the evening and would bear no ill will against anyone.
Phoebe tapped Wesley on the shoulder and led the boy out to where David had hitched Misty to the buggy. She paused to stroke Misty’s neck and coo, “Were you frightened, you poor thing?”
The answer was a wild whinny and a shake of Misty’s head. Clearly horses didn’t like unmanaged fires, but neither did anyone else.
Phoebe helped Wesley up the steps of the buggy then hopped in herself. David clucked to Misty, and they were off down the lane. She turned around for one last look at the flashing lights and the flood of people spilling over Aunt Millie’s lawn. “What an evening.”
“You can say that again.”
Misty’s hooves beat a steady drum on the road as silence settled on the buggy.
“Did I see something tonight?” David finally asked.
She presumed he was talking about his sister Ruth. “Yah, I think you did,” Phoebe told him. “Do you think it was what I thought?”
“I don’t know,” he mused. “Ruth still has her heart set on Ethan. Those things don’t go away easily, but Herman Yoder did get her attention.”
“That’s what I thought.” Phoebe fixed her gaze on the darkened countryside as they drove past. “We have to pray. That’s all I can say. Cousin Herman is not always that serious about such things.”
“D-d-do you always p-pray?” Wesley asked from the seat between them.
“You poor dear.” Phoebe gave him a quick hug. “Are you over your shock?”
“I-I-I…” He gave up and nestled against her.
Phoebe glanced over at David. “How must he feel?”
“I hope the rest of the week calms down.” David exaggerated a groan, and they laughed together.
“At least there is a bright side to everything,” Phoebe told him, as Misty’s hooves continued to beat on the pavement.
“I know,” he said, and his hand found hers in the darkness.
THIRTY-FIVE
The following morning, David strode north from the Fisher homestead while the dew was still heavy on the roadside grass. He stooped to moisten his fingers and held them aloft. As he felt his hand cooling on its southern side, the smile grew on his face. With the breeze from the valley floor moving toward the Adirondacks, the weather would be warm and clear. He would be able to keep Wesley outside in the fields all day. The boy needed to spend some time with nature after the traumatic events of last night. Thankfully, Rueben Yoder’s barn hadn’t burned to the ground. After a few days of repairs, it should be restored. David ought to offer his time later in the week if Phoebe could spare him on the farm. Not that Wesley was to blame for the accident, but th
e community pitched in to help each other when calamities occurred—even small ones.
David slowed his pace as he approached Grandma Lapp’s driveway. A light was on in the kitchen window, and he headed toward the front door of the house instead of the barn. How things had changed since Grandma’s passing. Phoebe now welcomed him into the house without any hesitation. She returned his feelings, and a light glowed in her eyes. He couldn’t believe a woman like her would really love him. He was afraid that one morning he would awaken to find this a dream. He’d be simply David Fisher again, with a family mark on his forehead that nothing could remove.
But for now…David drew a deep breath as he climbed the front porch steps. Would Phoebe stand with him in front of Bishop Rufus someday and say the sacred marriage vows? Would he dare ask her if she would be his promised one? That came first, but fear held him back. He didn’t want to rush things, even if Phoebe wouldn’t say no. That would be his excuse. The summer spent helping Phoebe run Grandma Lapp’s farm was a joy in its own right. He didn’t want the days to end, certainly not by an ill-timed question that would damage their budding relationship. A kiss wasn’t a promise of marriage—it was only the hope of a future together. Whether Phoebe had ever been held in another man’s arms he hadn’t dared ask and didn’t want to know. Certainly no girl besides Phoebe had been in his.
He knocked on the door and heard Phoebe’s cheerful voice call out, “Come on in.”
“Goot morning.” He stepped inside. “Am I too early?”
“Depends on if you’ve had breakfast,” she teased.
He glanced at the floor. The truth was, he had forgotten about breakfast.
“Worried about Wesley?” Her eyes twinkled. “You didn’t have to be. He slept real well last night.”
“Well, last night was quite a dramatic time,” he ventured. “Not something the boy’s used to seeing.”
“Sit down,” she ordered. “I’ll have breakfast ready in a moment, and then I’ll call Wesley.”
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