She picked her way down through the trees, keeping their house in view, remembering how thoroughly happy she’d been when she’d fallen in love with Roman Bitner. Her bliss continued to their wedding day and beyond, until the night she’d birthed Jake and witnessed the displeasure on her husband’s face. His disappointment had squelched her joy like water poured on flames.
Trying now to shake off her anguish over the lasting strain between herself and Roman, Ellie noticed Small Jay walking this way with his cat. Painstakingly, he inched toward the lane that led to the house.
He defied his father. . . . She was sorry this was her first thought upon seeing her son. Goodness, it would never do for Roman to discover him returning this close to twilight. In that moment, she realized that she, too, had disregarded her husband’s wishes by going up to see Marlena Wenger.
Slowing her pace to time her arrival after their son’s, Ellie sighed heavily. Her sadness was deep in her bones these days, one of the reasons she’d started quilting and needlepoint classes for the young women in the neighborhood. She needed to focus on others and forget, somehow, the things that weighed down her spirit. To attract students, she’d even put up a handmade sign on the community bulletin board at Joe’s General Store.
As Small Jay crept to the back porch and up the steps, pausing at each step, she held her breath. Their boy struggled to get around, yet he was determined to be a help to his father. A father who doesn’t want his disabled son’s assistance. She didn’t know what broke her heart more.
Slowly, she counted to one hundred in Deitsch, then began to move through the grass and around the pond’s southern edge. Her pulse quickened as she saw Roman leaning his full weight into the barn door to shove it closed.
At least she was this close to the house and not just coming down from the pond. Maybe he wouldn’t put together where she’d been. “Would ya like some homemade ice cream?” she asked, hoping to set his mind on something other than encountering her there.
“Got some left from yesterday?” he asked, walking quickly toward the backyard.
“If the girls haven’t eaten it.”
“While you were gone from the house, ya mean?”
She pursed her lips.
“Ellie, what’s your attraction to the world, anyway?” Roman raised his eyes toward the Martin farm.
“That’s never crossed my mind,” she replied quickly. “Marlena’s a Plain girl and sweet as vanilla pie.”
“Well, she ain’t our kind of Amish . . . raised in the Old Order church, sure, but attending the Mennonite meetinghouse with her Mammi and wearin’ the Beachy garb. What’s a body to think?”
“Just wanted to be neighborly, checkin’ how things are goin’ with the baby,” she said, keeping quiet about her plans to take the playpen and high chair over tomorrow.
“Ellie . . .”
She stiffened, not about to apologize. “My parents taught me kindness and compassion, and that’s what I aim to demonstrate.”
They headed inside, where Dorcas was already dishing up some strawberry ice cream, as if she’d anticipated them. Had their daughter overheard their arguing?
Ellie cringed and looked around the kitchen. Other than Dorcas, it was empty of children. Sassy was rubbing against the table legs.
Where’s Small Jay? Ellie asked Dorcas with her eyes, and her daughter shook her head faintly.
“Girls! Jake!” her husband called. “Ice cream’s a-meltin’.”
Julia and Sally gathered quickly, their spoons sinking into their ice cream even before their big sister or Dat sat down.
“Puh! What’d you two forget?” Roman asked.
Promptly, both girls folded their hands and bowed their heads, Julia’s face as crimson as a beet.
Ellie stood still, waiting to make her way to the table. It was then she heard Small Jay clumping down the steps. Sassy meowed, undoubtedly sensing something was up, and Ellie shielded her heart for what was to come.
Chapter 8
Marlena had always heard it was unwise to tiptoe about while a baby slept. It was far better to ease the infant into the normal activity of the household—doing things as usual, going about the daily routine.
But after Ellie Bitner left, Marlena felt so exhausted that she found herself moving lightly about her bedroom, hoping the baby wouldn’t awaken before she herself had the chance to relax a bit. She looked forward to washing up, though she would not shower until tomorrow morning in the makeshift area partitioned off from the washroom down in the cellar.
She slipped into one of her lightweight nightgowns and made her way silently to bed, where she sat still enough to hear the baby’s breathing. Then she reached for her Bible to read a passage like her parents always did at bedtime. Devout Dat and Mamma, she thought fondly. Mamma had called just a while ago to see how Angela Rose was settling in. She’d also taken a moment to confide to Marlena that she hoped having the baby there might help Mammi get over her deep grief. “Especially with you there to bear most of the burden of Angela’s care.” And Marlena conceded that Mamma might be right. Who can resist a darling baby?
Earlier, Marlena had set the room in order, placing the diaper pail near the crib, having put in a mix of water and blue detergent. She had no changing table, so for now she would have to use her bed, with a waterproof pad beneath the baby’s bottom. The newly purchased diapers were stacked on the dresser near the crib, along with baby powder and lotion and a number of diaper pins. She’d made room in one of the drawers for the few baby gowns, tiny undershirts, and all-in-one sleepers brought from Luella’s house by Aunt Becky. As far as Marlena could see, Becky hadn’t brought any little dresses or jumpers, but she guessed that didn’t matter. Not just yet.
The temperature upstairs was slightly cooler from having opened the outside door to the balcony earlier. She was surprised the baby was sleeping so peacefully in this heat. Going across the hall to the vacant bedroom, she opened the windows wide and returned to do the same in her room—the bedroom where she and Luella had always slept when the family visited.
Does my sister know who’s taking care of her baby? Marlena sat on the cane-back chair, watching Angela Rose’s little tummy rise and fall. With everything in her, she hoped all would be well with Luella. And silently she beseeched God yet again to watch over her sister. And help those in charge get word to Gordon, too. . . .
Thinking of the years she and her older sister had come here to help with summer gardening and canning, Marlena waited for the sky to turn completely dark before lying on the bed, pondering the baby’s seeming resistance to her. Tomorrow, an abundance of garden produce and more strawberries would need to be picked and preserved, and then in two days, market day. We need to borrow a stroller from someone, she realized.
She recalled Ellie’s thoughtful offer that Dorcas could watch Angela Rose. At least there was that. Even so, it was evident to her how ill-prepared she was to look after Luella’s baby for longer than a few days.
Just then she imagined her poor sister lying in a hospital bed. Is she conscious . . . aware of her situation? And if so, was she missing Angela as much as Angela was clearly missing her?
Feeling too tired to sleep, Marlena turned over and sighed, mentally composing her next letter to Nat. She wanted to share all of her happiness over his telephone call and the many things that came to her drowsy mind, till at last she fell into a deep sleep.
Ellie sat on the chair across the room from their bed, wearing her mint green duster. Roman was stretched out on the bed, still muttering things that continued to upset her. How would she ever feel settled enough to rest?
“Small Jay gets by with a lot,” Roman said grimly.
“I think he’s just forgetful.”
“Maybe he hides behind his disabilities. Have ya considered that?”
She wanted to say right back to him that it was wrong to utter such unfounded statements. But she’d said enough already this night. Too much. Besides, they weren’t going to solve anyth
ing now, not as worn out as they both were.
So she would just sit there and wait till his first few snores, then slip into bed. At times like this, she thought back to the days when her husband’s eyes were tender, even mischievous, and she missed that Roman. Oh, did she ever.
Down the hallway, faint whispers mixed with occasional giggles. Most likely her two youngest girls were feeling warm and restless, sharing a bed in the muggy house. Small Jay and Dorcas each had their own south-facing rooms, where the breezes came more readily through more windows.
Leaning her head toward the whispers, Ellie smiled, not interested in going to shush Julia and Sally. Such pleasant, familiar sounds.
Some of us are happy. . . .
Ofttimes she could hear Small Jay talking in his sleep, sounding a lot like the way he talked to his cat.
Stretching, she relaxed enough to yawn, thankful for each of her children—though she couldn’t help recalling the stressful discussion with her husband earlier, when she’d returned from visiting Marlena Wenger. I really must count my blessings more and fret far less.
Ellie awakened suddenly, rigid as kindling. She shook herself and rose from the chair, creeping to the dresser to look at the day clock. One o’clock.
She’d fallen asleep in Roman’s big armchair. Not the first time, but definitely the longest. Nighttime breezes were beginning to cool the house, and she was glad she’d thought to leave the upstairs windows open. On such a starry night, there was no chance of rain.
Roman murmured in his sleep. Wearing her slippers, she turned toward the door and stepped into the hall, going to check on the children, as she sometimes did at night.
In the first bedroom to the right of the hallway, she leaned on the doorframe, peering in. Her heart caught in her throat at the sight of Julia’s blond hair flowing over her slender shoulders. Evidently, she’d pushed the sheet back, or kicked it off. Her long, graceful arm draped over little Sally, who was scrunched down a bit, her chubby hand resting on her pillow, strawberry-blond braids still wound around her head. Too busy to bother brushing, Ellie thought, helpless not to smile down at the two of them. Stepping into the room, she went to the bed and lifted the sheet, pulling it up to their waists before leaving the room.
Across the hall, Dorcas was primly tucked in, her white cotton coverlet secured over her slight frame. Ellie felt her forehead, wet with perspiration. Moving to the window, she paused to raise the shade to let in more air, then turned to stand at the footboard. Silently, she asked the Lord God heavenly Father to guide this daughter’s every step toward adolescence. Coming ever so quickly.
She made her way next door to Small Jay’s room. As he always did at bedtime, he’d left his door only cracked open, so his cat wouldn’t roam about the house. Roman had been unwavering against having a barn cat, or any animal for that matter, stay in the house, back two years ago. But Small Jay had won the day, and they had all warmed up to Sassafras in a short time, Roman included, and before long her husband had surprised her by agreeing to allow the cat to sleep on Small Jay’s bed. Not under the covers, though—that went without saying.
Ellie peered into the room, moving the door open to squeeze through, and saw that the two window shades were up as high as they could possibly go, wound tightly at the top of the window frame. He stood on the chair again.
Shaking her head, she wondered why her son was determined to take risks like that, and she thought once more of Roman’s remarks.
Sassafras had managed to edge up close to Small Jay’s pillow. Ellie stepped near, taking in the tranquil scene, grateful to God for this gentle-spirited child. Our truest gift, she thought, deeming him a blessing despite the ongoing struggles.
She turned to leave, but Small Jay moved in his sleep, and she noticed a piece of paper, folded in two, which slipped out of his hand and onto the bedsheet. What’s this? She picked it up and went to the open window to read it.
This is only for practice. My name is Dr. Calvert, but please call me Boston.
Ellie found this strange, even startling. Where had Small Jay received such a note? And who was Dr. Calvert? She had no knowledge of a Brownstown doctor by that name. Had her son been taken privately to see a physician—without her knowledge? If so, who would do such a thing?
She pushed the puzzling message into the pocket of her duster and, with a troubled heart, cracked the door open the way she’d found it before returning to her own bedroom.
Marlena dreamed she heard the mournful strains of a harmonica, then awakened to a squirrel pattering across the roof. With a start, she sat up in the moonlit room, uncertain where she was. A baby whimpered, tiny feet thumping against the crib mattress just a yard or so from her bed. In her sluggish stupor, Marlena got out of bed and leaned on the crib railing to look down at Luella’s wee one. As before, the wrenching cries rapidly became shrill sobs, even after she reached for Angela Rose and placed her gently on her own bed to change her diaper. Then Marlena carefully hurried downstairs, her niece in her arms.
I must make up the formula quickly, lest Angela’s cries awaken Mammi. Glad for the electricity, she flipped on the soft stove light. Both she and the baby squinted into the brightness, and she was unsure how she ever would have managed to light a gas lantern while juggling a baby.
As she mixed, then warmed the formula, Marlena noticed it was two o’clock. They’d both slept a good portion of the night, something Marlena hadn’t expected, given Angela’s long crying spell and then nap earlier. Mammi certainly needed her rest after such a tiring day, so this was a welcome surprise.
Marlena tested the formula’s temperature on the inside of her arm like Aunt Becky had done, then rubbed Angela’s little mouth with the bottle’s nipple. As before, Angela Rose closed her lips firmly, pushing the bottle away, her face wrinkling. But Marlena tried again, talking to her in a soothing tone. “I know you’re hungry, little one.”
Angela Rose turned toward her voice, and Marlena held her breath as her niece finally latched on to the bottle, her eyes closing, then opening as she settled into a steady sucking rhythm.
“That’s right,” Marlena whispered, looking down into the small blue eyes blinking up at her.
Angela Rose raised her dimpled hand to Marlena’s lips, which was so dear Marlena willed herself not to cry. “Aw, sweetie, you must surely know I’m not your Mamma.” She held her breath, but miraculously Luella’s baby did not cry again.
Daring to hope for more sleep, Marlena remembered to lean Angela against her shoulder and rub her back after more than half the eight-ounce bottle had been drained. Angela was moving about and cooing sweetly.
Reaching for the bottle again, Marlena was relieved when her niece snuggled down next to her to take it. Oh, the feel of the cuddly girl in her arms! She got up to turn off the electric stove light, hoping to let the baby’s now heavy eyelids give in to sleep once more. As for herself, she was ready to return to dreamland. With that in mind, she carried Angela Rose upstairs and gently removed the bottle to put her back down in the crib.
Immediately, the peace of the house was shattered as the crying began once more.
Quickly, Marlena closed her door and lifted Angela out of the crib. Humming softly, she walked back and forth in the room till she was so weary she could scarcely stand. Needing sleep, she decided to take the sobbing infant to bed with her, now singing “Jesus Loves Me” again and again in English so as not to upset Angela Rose with Deitsch. An unrecognizable language, for sure.
It struck Marlena—had Luella ever sung a hymn from the Ausbund to her baby? She also wondered what sort of beliefs her brother-in-law, Gordon, had. Would his being in the war push him toward God, or away?
Angela’s cries mixed now with hiccups; exhausted though she was, there seemed to be no end to them. Reaching for the bottle again, Marlena gave the last of the formula she seemed to desire, cradling her near as she sat up in bed. All the while, she hoped in earnest for a way to bond with this heartbroken baby.
Is
Luella worried about Angela? The thought continued to plague Marlena as she caressed her, the baby’s suckling beginning to slow after a time. She’d gone to sleep in Marlena’s arms.
Marlena wasn’t sure it was the right decision but decided to stay right there for the rest of the night, bolstered up with two feather pillows behind her back, until the sunny brightness of dawn shone on the wide oak leaves that graced the window in shining green.
Sleepily, Marlena looked around the sparsely furnished room—the tall wooden clothes rack, the single maple chair near one window, the crib, and the pine dresser with its modest mirror. She saw that nothing had changed surrounding them, yet she felt strangely different, and it had nothing to do with the lack of rest. Her arms felt numb as she looked into the sweet face of the sleeping babe, but that didn’t matter. Truth was, her hope—or was it an unconscious prayer?—had been answered. Maybe the heavenly Father had used her willingness to sacrifice a good portion of sleep.
Leaning down to kiss the baby’s soft head, Marlena grasped the precious truth: Her heart had opened wide and gently caught Angela Rose.
Chapter 9
Thursday morning turned out to be mild and less oppressive than the day before. The sun shone bright on the corncrib roof as Ellie peered out the kitchen window, then set to work. Roman had said a number of the outbuildings needed to be reroofed, and a whole stretch of pasture fence had to be replaced, as well.
Ellie automatically wondered where Small Jay might fit in with any of those chores, but she knew the enduring truth. Sighing, she mixed up some buttermilk waffles and made scrambled eggs with cheese for her family. Then, reaching into her apron pocket, she felt the note she’d taken from her son’s room last night. It was best she wait to talk to him till he was finished eating.
The Love Letters Page 6