The Covenant

by Beverly Lewis

  “Ach, ’tis an old wives’ tale,” Lizzie said. She had a taste of the soup from the wooden ladle Ida held out for her, Ida’s hand cupped beneath to catch any drips. “Mm-m . . . ’s’gut. Real tasty, I must say.” She stood there, hoping for more. “Do I have this recipe somewheres?”

  “Oh, I’m sure ya do. It’s just vegetable-oyster soup and salsify, with celery leaves for extra flavor.” Ida dipped the spoon into the black kettle yet again. “Here, this is your last nibble till we eat.”

  “I’m invited to stay for dinner?” She was chuckling now.

  Leah nodded her head, looking at her. “You’re always invited, Aunt Lizzie. You oughta know that by now.”

  She knew, all right. And it was so comforting, too. Ida’s family loved her—liked her—enough to include her in their day-to-day life. What had started out awkward and strained early on had turned out to be all right. And for everyone involved. Mostly because Ida and Abram had been so kind back then to invite her to come live here in Gobbler’s Knob.

  “Leah, can you tell me all the vegetable ingredients?” she asked, thinking it would reinforce what Ida was trying to teach Leah.

  Eager to recite—at least it seemed so—Leah faced Lizzie. “There’s diced potatoes, onions, shredded cabbage, ripe tomatoes, some carrots, one big stalk of celery, four ears of cut corn . . .” She stopped to think, whispering what she’d already said, touching her fingers lightly, counting as she went. “Mustn’t forget the string beans, green and red peppers, lima beans, rice, and barley. Oh, and parsley leaves if you don’t want to use celery leaves.”

  Lizzie clapped at such a wonderful-gut recitation and told Leah so. “You’re catchin’ on fast . . . isn’t she, Ida?”

  “Well, I should say.” Ida went and sat down for a moment on the wooden bench beside the long table across the room. “She’s come a long way in a short time. Even Abram says so.”

  Lizzie had to smile at that. Hardworking Abram, dear man. He was the reason she’d moved over from Hickory Hollow after her rumschpringe . . . built her a cabin to live in with his bare hands. Jah, such a gut man Ida had married. Lord willing, if she ever had the chance someday, wouldn’t it be awful nice to meet a man just like that? Seemed single men were few and far between these days, what with her approaching forty here in a couple of years. Probably would never marry, though. Still, she wondered why the Lord God kept putting the longing for a husband in her heart. What was the purpose, really, if she was simply to hope and dream, living out her life under the covering of Abram and his family?

  “When are the girls gonna be sewing, then?” she asked Ida.

  “Tomorrow afternoon, prob’ly. Care to help?”

  Leah went and sat next to Ida on the bench, still beaming, proud of herself, no doubt. “Jah, you should come, Aunt Lizzie. The house’ll be a mess with all the material laid out and whatnot.”

  “I’d be happy to help,” she said. “And just when are you planning to make something for Anna’s wedding gift?”

  Leah clapped her hand over her mouth. “That’s right, Mamma. We oughta be thinking about what we want to give as a family.”

  “Best find out from Fannie what the couple needs.” Ida was fanning herself with the tail of her long black apron.

  “I’d say they’ll be needin’ everything,” Lizzie added. “Most young marrieds do.”

  Leah rose and headed for the back door. “Dat’s gonna wonder why I haven’t fed the chickens yet.”

  “Well, run along, then. Tell your father, if you see him, we’ll be eating dinner round eleven o’clock.”

  “Jah, I will.”

  “Such a wonderful-gut girl,” Lizzie said as she and Ida sat there watching Leah slip out the back door and head to the chicken house.

  Ida touched her on the elbow. “I’m glad we’re alone, Lizzie . . . I have something personal to share with you.”

  “Oh?”

  Pausing a bit, Ida put her hand over her heart. “I’m going to have a baby.”

  Lizzie clasped her sister’s free hand. “Ach, you are?”

  “Jah,” Ida replied, looking a bit sheepish. “Think of it, at my age, and just when I thought . . .”

  Lizzie’s heart leaped up. “Oh, Ida, this is such a surprise—what gut news, really ’tis.” She couldn’t help it; tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m awful happy for you. Does Abram know?”

  “Not just yet. I’ll tell him tonight, then the girls tomorrow . . . when they’re all busy cuttin’ out dress patterns and whatnot. Will you come over after the twins get home from school, then?”

  She was ever so delighted. A new baby in the family! “I’ll be sure’n come, Ida.” She released her sister’s hand. “You can count on me to help, just as I did when Hannah and Mary Ruth surprised all of us by bein’ twins!”

  “Well, I can only hope this one’s a singleton.” Ida fanned her face harder. “Don’t know that I could handle more than one baby at this stage of life.”

  “Won’t Abram be happy? And the girls, too?”

  “I have a feeling it’s another daughter,” Ida said, “though how would I know?”

  “Five girls would be just fine with me.”

  Ida went on to tell her what Cousin Fannie had said about them needing a son to carry on the family name. “Puh, I said we’d leave it up to whatever the Good Lord saw fit to give us.”

  Lizzie nodded, glad to have shared this private moment with Ida. “That’s a right good answer, I daresay. When’s the baby expected?”

  “Best as I can tell, middle May.”

  “A springtime baby . . . des gut.” Lizzie got up and went to the back door, looking out the window. She could see her father helping Abram lead the horses and mules out to pasture, and over there, across the barnyard, Leah was scattering feed to the chickens. We’ll have us another little one to love . . . and lead to you, Lord, she prayed silently.

  Ida sat at the kitchen table after Lizzie left to go out for a short walk. Enjoying the rare solitude of the house, she decided to write a letter to Becky Brenneman, her sister-in-law, clear over in Hickory Hollow. Wouldn’t Becky be shocked with Ida’s news, just as Lizzie had been? Ida could see the look of amazement on her sister’s face just now. For goodness’ sake, who would’ve thought this could happen, the twins being thirteen, and all? Why, it would be almost like raising her grandchild, except this baby would be her child—her and Abram’s—in their twilight years.

  Pen in hand, she began to write.

  My dear sister Becky,

  It’s been much too long since I’ve written. We’ve all been busy with vegetable gardens and canning and such . . . you too, probably. Dat is nicely settled in next door, and I do believe Abram enjoys having the extra set of hands to help out. (Leah’s decided she wants to learn to cook, sew, and whatnot, which doesn’t come as a surprise to me, really, since she’s courting age now. I can hardly believe it . . . little Leah already sixteen.)

  Well, now, how about you and Noah? How do you like living in the Dawdi Haus yourself? Won’t be too much longer, I expect, and Abram and I’ll be doing the same thing here—after Dat passes on to Glory.

  She stopped writing just then, catching herself. There was no way in the world she and Abram would be moving over to their Dawdi Haus, even if her father should pass away within the next five to ten years. Not with a new baby coming on. What if she should give birth to a son? Being the baby of the family, and the only boy, he would end up farming this land, and a gut long time from now. Well, for pity’s sake, this baby growing inside her just might upset the fruit basket, and wouldn’t that be a perty sight? If the baby turned out to be yet another daughter, well, they’d still have to stay put and live on this side of the house, for the youngster’s sake. There wasn’t enough room in the Dawdi Haus for a growing family. A second family, at that!

  She scratched out the last sentence of her letter, staring at the mess she’d made. I’ll start all over with a different letter to Becky, she thought. Then, for no reason at a
ll, tears sprang to her eyes, trickling down her face. She bowed her head and prayed for this precious new life within her—most truly unexpected.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The hours dragged on endlessly for Leah. Here it was only Thursday afternoon. She glanced at the farmland calendar hanging on the door that led to the cold cellar. October twenty-first. She had the rest of today and all day tomorrow to wait, then most of Saturday, before she’d see Jonas again. Nearly two and a half days!

  She and her sisters set about laying out their homemade dress patterns and newly purchased yard goods across the long kitchen table. Leah thought of offering to do some of Mamma’s chores later, as well as her own—get her mind off the upcoming secret meeting with Jonas this Saturday night. Mamma seemed to need more rest than ever before, and Leah sometimes wondered about what she’d overheard Aunt Lizzie say back that one time she’d listened into their conversation.

  What had Mamma said? That she might be fast approaching the change of life? Well, Leah didn’t know anything about that, really. Still, she could see the tired lines in her mother’s face, the washed-out complexion. Wasn’t like Mamma to look so wrung out.

  “Hand me your scissors,” Mary Ruth said to Hannah.

  “What’sa matter with yours?” Hannah asked from across the table.

  Mary Ruth looked down at the scissors in her hand. “Mine are awful dull.”

  “Well, take ’em out to the barn, to Dat,” Leah suggested. “He’ll sharpen ’em up for you.”

  Mamma came in the kitchen just then. “Girls . . . did I tell you, Aunt Lizzie’s comin’ over in a little bit to help us sew up your dresses?”

  “Maybe Lizzie can take my place out at the produce stand later on, after Sadie’s turn,” Hannah said softly. “I’ll do my own sewin’.”

  “But that’s your job today, Hannah. Mustn’t duck your duty.” Mamma went to sit in the rocker.

  Hannah wrinkled up her nose slightly, but said nothing more about her great reluctance to work at the roadside stand alone.

  Mary Ruth piped up, eyes bright. “I wouldn’t mind tending the stand till supper for Hannah. Really, I wouldn’t, Mamma.”

  But their mother remained firm. “Ain’t too many gourds or pumpkins left to sell, so I think Hannah can have her turn once more before the killing frost comes.”

  Aunt Lizzie came whistling up the back steps and into the house. “Good afternoon, everybody,” she said. “What can I do to help?”

  Mamma waved her hand, getting the girls’ attention. “Before we do a speck of cuttin’ and sewin’, I have something to say. Somebody go out on the front porch and call Sadie in here real quick.”

  Mary Ruth scampered off to do Mamma’s bidding.

  Meanwhile, Leah turned and looked at her mamma. There was something different about the way she sat there, beaming now. What did she have to tell them on such a busy day?

  Once Sadie was inside, Mamma said, “Girls, gather round.”

  They did so quickly. Sadie stood in the doorway, keeping an eye out for the road, no doubt. Leah and Hannah sat at Mamma’s feet, and Mary Ruth leaned on Sadie’s shoulder. “What is it, Mamma?” Mary Ruth asked.

  Mamma rocked forward and back in the hickory rocker, then stopped. She folded her hands in her lap and looked up at them. “Ach, but I never thought I’d be saying such a thing. Not now . . .” She sighed audibly. “Well, girls, you’re going to have yourselves a new little sister or brother.”

  At once Mary Ruth squealed, clapping her hand over her mouth. Sadie looked altogether startled, turning ashen. Hannah sat silently on the floor next to Leah, her face tilted in a question mark. But Leah felt great joy, a warmth filling her heart as she reached up for Mamma’s hand and squeezed it. “Oh, Mamma, such wonderful news. What fun we’ll have.”

  “How soon?” Sadie said rather glumly.

  “Late spring . . . sometime in May, I think.”

  Hannah found her voice at last. “What’s Dat have to say?”

  Mamma nodded. “I told him last night, and he is . . . well, in shock I guess is the best way to put it.”

  “Surprised but happy?” Leah asked, glancing over at Aunt Lizzie, who looked as if the cat had gotten her tongue.

  “It’ll take some time getting used to,” Mamma said, her eyes watering.

  “Jah, seven more months,” Mary Ruth said, trying her best to get Sadie to jig round the room with her, but Sadie wouldn’t budge.

  “We can take turns playing with our new sister,” Hannah said.

  “Who says it’ll be a girl?” Leah spoke up. “Maybe Mamma and Dat will have a son.”

  “We’ll see when the time comes,” Mamma said wisely. “Now, don’t we have some dresses to sew up today?”

  Leah was truly glad for the news. Now she could think on something besides seeing Jonas again. Funny thing, though . . . Fannie Mast and Mamma both having babies. She wondered how long Mamma would be keeping her news quiet, just for the immediate family’s ears. She didn’t bother to ask. She was enjoying the prattle made by Mary Ruth and Aunt Lizzie. Hannah was her quiet self, but then so was Sadie. For some odd reason, her oldest sister was obviously silent. Could it be that all this fuss over a new baby coming bothered the firstborn of the family? But, no, Leah didn’t think that could be. She’d never known Sadie to be the jealous sort. Maybe she was still wounded over whatever happened between her and that Derry fella. Jah, that was probably it.

  Abram led the animals back from the pasture by himself. He’d spotted Lizzie up on the knoll, meandering down the mule road toward the barnyard. She was coming over to help with the girls’ sewing bee, Ida had said last night after springing the news of a baby on him. And just before they retired for the night, yet. Did she think he’d be able to sleep after hearing such astonishing news? Well, he’d slept, all right, but only after mulling things over in his head for a gut hour or so.

  With Smithy saying what he was about Leah turning down Gideon’s offer at the last singing . . . well, Abram felt things were up in the air enough without the possibility of a son coming along way behind like this. A real son. Which was most likely what Ida would have, too. Wouldn’t it be just like the Lord God heavenly Father to do such a thing, after all girls? Almost a practical joke, so to speak.

  Removing his straw hat, he scratched his head. He wasn’t sure he wanted to farm that much longer, not the way his arthritis had been acting up with every barometer change here lately. And his back ached some days like never before.

  He turned and headed back to the barn, telling himself he ought not to worry so. What if the baby was another girl, after all? His main course of action, here and now, was to talk sense to Leah, get her to see that Smithy Gid was the best choice of a mate.

  Still, he couldn’t up and tell her not to see Jonas anymore, but he sure could try in a roundabout way. Jah, he sure could, and he would. First thing tomorrow, at the early-morning milking, when he and Leah could talk privately. Man to man, so to speak.

  After the supper dishes were washed, dried, and put away, Ida sat down and wrote a short note to Fannie Mast, asking what Anna needed most in the way of handmade linens and such. Didn’t take her long, though, and since she had plenty of space left on the lined writing tablet, she decided to share her news with Fannie, too.

  P.S. I’d thought of telling you this the next time I visit there, but I don’t know when that’ll be, so I’m going to tell you now, and you can keep it under your hat for a while longer. Abram and I are expecting a baby come mid-to-late May. So your little one and ours will be ever so close in age. See what talking about babies in your kitchen did to me, Fannie? Ha, ha.

  Let me know as soon as you can about Anna’s needs. I’ll look forward to hearing from you soon.

  Lovingly, your cousin,

  Ida

  Rereading the letter, Ida knew she’d much rather be crocheting booties for her coming child than fussing over embroidering pillowcases and tablecloths or whatever it was that Fannie would say Anna
needed. The reality of having a new baby was slowly sinking in . . . taking her over, really. Almost more than her joyful heart could hold. No more tears since yesterday. She wouldn’t wish to turn back the clock, even if she could . . . no, she wouldn’t think of going back to planning her and Abram’s retirement years—the “slowing-down years,” as Dat liked to say.

  She hoped Abram might catch up with her delight here real quick, guessing it might take him longer than when she’d first told him about expecting their girls. He’d come round. Jah, in due time.

  The next morning Leah sat sleepily on the milking stool, wiping down Bessie’s underparts before she got started with hand milking. Dat had come over to her and said he’d help with Rosie. So Leah knew something was up. But she promised herself—if Dat’s eagerness to chat was over her lack of interest in Smithy Gid—she wouldn’t mention a word about her plans to meet Jonas Mast tomorrow after dusk at the end of the lane. She felt she must guard their secret courtship now more than ever.

  About the time she began milking Bessie, Dat sat down on his own stool nearby. She heard the tinny ping-ping of Rosie’s rich milk against the sides of the pail.

  “I know I ain’t ’sposed to ask . . . but you won’t mind, will you?” Dat said.

  She smiled. “Just what’re you sayin’, Dat?”

  “Well, now . . . I was just wondering how you liked your first singing, is all.”

  She shrugged a little, cautious to keep things to herself. “ ’Twas all right, really.”

  “Didja see anybody you knew . . . from our church district, I mean?”

  Dat wasn’t doing such a good job of fishing for information, but she played along. “Jah, I knew some boys there.”

  Two milk pails being filled was the only sound in the barn at that moment. So just why was Dat asking her such questions when he knew she was already into rumschpringe? Was it Smithy Gid he was so interested in?

  She wanted to help Dat out a bit. “Gid was at the singing with his sister.” Then she added quickly, “Adah and I sat together at the long table all during the songs.”