A Sister's Test

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Tears burned the back of Ruth’s throat, and she swallowed hard, unable to answer her sister’s question.

  Martha turned and gave Mom a questioning look.

  “I suggested that Ruth go to the dog auction with you today, but she says she’s got a headache.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Martha shrugged. “You’d probably be bored watching a bunch of hyper dogs get auctioned off anyhow.”

  Ruth nodded and hurried over to the cupboard to get out the dishes. At least Martha hadn’t suggested she go back to her room and be served breakfast in bed.

  “What time will you be leaving for Walnut Creek?” Mom asked, smiling at Martha.

  “In an hour or so.”

  “Your daed will be in from doing his chores soon, and then we can eat.”

  “What would you like me to do?” Martha asked.

  “Why don’t you make some toast while Ruth sets the table? I’ve got a pot of oatmeal cooking, and it should be done soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you like some aspirin?” Mom asked, stepping up to Ruth.

  “I’ll get it.”

  “I bought a new bottle when I went shopping yesterday. It’s in the cupboard above the sink,” Mom said.

  “You’ve had a lot of headaches lately,” Martha put in. “Maybe you should see the chiropractor for a neck adjustment.”

  “It’s not my neck causing the headaches.”

  “Maybe some valerian root would help,” Mom said as she lifted the lid on the oatmeal and peeked inside.

  Ruth dropped the silverware to the table with a clatter. “I don’t need any herbs or chiropractic adjustments. I need to be left alone!” She whirled around and dashed out of the room.

  As Cleon sat at the breakfast table with Grace and Anna, he made up his mind that he would try to show his stepdaughter a little more attention this morning.

  “How are things going with you at school these days?” he asked, looking over at Anna.

  “Okay.”

  “Have you learned anything new?”

  Anna reached for her glass of milk and gulped some down. “I guess so.”

  “What have you learned?”

  “Hmm. . .”

  “Well?”

  The child shrugged.

  Cleon’s patience was beginning to wane, and he gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at Anna.

  Grace gently poked his arm. “Would you please pass the syrup?”

  “Jah, sure.” He handed Grace the bottle of syrup and turned to Anna again. “Are you looking forward to summer coming so you can spend time with your baby brother?”

  Anna’s forehead wrinkled. “He cries too much. I’m gonna spend all my time with Esta this summer.”

  “Not all your time,” Grace corrected. “You’ll have chores to do, remember?”

  “Jah, I know.”

  Cleon reached for his cup of coffee. “When you’re not doing chores, you should get to know Daniel better. Maybe you and your mamm can put the boppli in the stroller and wheel him down to the woodworking shop to see me and your grandpa.”

  Anna looked over at Grace. “I wonder why my other grandpa hasn’t sent me no more letters.”

  “It’s any more, not no more,” Grace said, touching the child’s arm. “And you did get a letter and some money from your grandpa Davis for Christmas.”

  Anna’s lower lip protruded. “That was a long time ago. I wish we could see where Poppy lives since he’s still not feelin’ so good.”

  “Maybe after Daniel gets a little bigger.”

  “Really, Mama?” Anna’s expression turned hopeful.

  Grace opened her mouth as if to say something, but Cleon cut her off.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “Jah, Papa, why not?” Anna looked at Cleon with questioning eyes.

  “For one thing, it’s going to be a while before Daniel’s big enough to take a long trip.” He glanced at Grace, hoping she would help him out, but she just stared at her plate of half-eaten pancakes.

  “Linda Mast said she and her family went to Florida last summer, and they took their boppli along,” Anna argued.

  Cleon grunted. “That may be true, but the Mast baby is older than Daniel.”

  “So we can’t go?”

  “Things are really hectic around here right now,” he said. “Your aunt Ruth is still hurting from the loss of Martin, and your mamm needs to be here for her.”

  “But she’s got Grandma and Grandpa Hostettler and Aunt Martha, too.”

  “We can talk about this later,” Cleon mumbled.

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But I need to know when,” Anna persisted. “I’m gonna write Poppy a letter when I get home from school. I want to tell him when I can come—”

  Cleon held up his hand. “Don’t tell him anything; do you understand?”

  With a strangled sob, Anna pushed back her chair and dashed from the room.

  “Did you have to make her cry?” Grace slowly shook her head. “I hate to send her off to school with her eyes all red and swollen.”

  Cleon frowned. “Why is it that every time I say something to Anna, she ends up crying and then you take her side?”

  “I was not taking her side. If I’d been taking her side, I would have tried to make you realize that Daniel will be old enough to travel by summer.”

  “No, he won’t, because I don’t want him going halfway across the country. I don’t think it would be good for Anna to see her grandpa right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know how strained things have been between me and Anna since Daniel was born. If she saw her grandpa Davis again, she might not want to come home.”

  “I don’t relish the idea of her seeing him again, either, but that’s not the point.”

  “What is the point?”

  “I think if you would start paying Anna more attention, things might not be so strained between you two, and she wouldn’t be thinking about her grandpa Davis so much.”

  “Oh, so it’s all my fault, is it?” Cleon’s face heated up. “I was trying to make conversation with her, and you saw the kind of response I got. She barely answered any of my questions.”

  Grace opened her mouth to respond, but the baby’s cry halted her words. “I’d better tend to Daniel.” She pushed her chair away from the table and rushed out of the room.

  Cleon grabbed his cup to drink the last of his coffee but discovered it had turned cold. “That figures,” he mumbled. This was not the beginning of a good day.

  Ruth had been lying on the sofa for quite a while when she heard a knock on the front door. Her mother had gone to the woodworking shop to take Dad his lunch, and Martha was still at the dog auction. No one but her could answer the door.

  Reluctantly, she sat up and plodded over to the door. When she opened it, she discovered a middle-aged English woman with short, chestnut-colored hair and dark brown eyes standing on the porch.

  “May I help you?”

  The woman nodded. “My name’s Rosemary Cole, and I’m looking for my brother.”

  Ruth squinted against the invading light streaming through the open door. “I don’t know anyone with the last name of Cole living nearby,” she said.

  “My brother’s last name is Hostettler.”

  “Hostettler?”

  “That’s right. Roman Hostettler.”

  Ruth’s mouth fell open, and she leaned against the doorjamb for support. “Are—are you my dad’s sister?”

  “Yes.”

  Ruth stared at the woman, trying to piece things together. Finally, she opened the door wider and said, “I’m Ruth—Roman’s daughter. Please, come inside.”

  Rosemary followed Ruth into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. “Is—is my brother here?”

  “He’s out in his woodworking shop right now,” Ruth said as she seated herself in the rocking chair across from Ro
semary. “Would you like me to take you there?”

  “Yes. No.” Rosemary gave her left earlobe a tug, a habit she and Roman had begun when they were children. “Sorry, I’m feeling kind of nervous right now. I’d like a few minutes to compose myself before I see my brother.”

  Ruth nodded.

  “I. . .uh. . .I’m not sure what his reaction will be when he sees me. It’s been a long time, and. . .” Rosemary’s voice trailed off, and she stared at her trembling hands.

  “Would you like something to drink? Maybe a glass of tea or cold water?”

  “Yes, yes. That would be nice.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  After Ruth left the room, Rosemary leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. So my brother has his own woodworking shop. He always did like fooling around with wood. He’s obviously married, or he wouldn’t have a daughter named Ruth. I wonder how many other children he has.

  She opened her eyes and glanced around the room. The furnishings were simple, and the place had a homey feel. Several potted plants sat in one corner of the room, a scenic calendar adorned the wall, a pair of wooden sconces with white candles bordered an antique-looking clock, and several quilted throw pillows lay on the sofa. Roman’s wife obviously had good taste, even though her home wasn’t fancy like most English homes.

  Rosemary thought about her visit to the home where she and her brothers had grown up. She’d driven to it before coming here and found someone else living there—a young Amish couple, Michael and Karen Mast. The Masts had told Rosemary that the elderly couple who used to live there were dead. When she’d asked about her brothers, Michael had said the only one still living in the area was Roman. He’d given Rosemary the address and said it was just a few miles down the road.

  Rosemary’s thoughts were halted when Ruth returned with a tray of cookies and a glass of iced tea. She placed the tray on the low table in front of the sofa and returned to her seat. “Please, help yourself.”

  Rosemary reached for the glass and took a sip. The cool liquid felt good on her parched throat. “Are you the only one at home?” she asked.

  Ruth nodded. “My mother went to the shop to take Dad his lunch, my sister Grace is at her house, and my sister Martha has gone to Walnut Creek to a dog auction.”

  Rosemary’s interest was piqued. She loved dogs—had ever since she was a girl. But Bob wouldn’t let her have a dog. He’d said they were too much trouble.

  Ruth shifted in her chair. “Did my dad know you were coming?”

  “No, I—” A burning lump formed in Rosemary’s throat. “I stopped by the home where we grew up, but the young couple who live there said my folks had died.”

  Ruth’s chair squeaked as she pumped her legs up and down. “Grandpa Hostettler passed away five years ago, and Grandma died a year later.”

  Rosemary flinched. “I should have been here. I—I didn’t know.”

  Ruth continued to rock, wearing a troubled look on her face. Did she think Rosemary was a terrible daughter because she hadn’t returned home in all these years? Rosemary had thought about it—even mentioned it to Bob a couple of times. But he’d always said no—that her family didn’t care about her, which was obvious because they’d never responded to any of her letters.

  I was a fool to believe him, Rosemary thought with regret. I should have made an effort to see my family despite the things he said.

  She finished her iced tea and set her glass back on the table. “I’m ready to see my brother now.”

  Martha smiled at the female beagle she’d bid on to replace Flo as a mate for Bo. The dog’s name was Polly, and she’d already had one litter of pups, so Martha was sure things would work out for her to raise some beagles. If Polly gave her a good-sized litter and Martha made enough money when she sold them, she hoped to buy a pair of cocker spaniels.

  “Up you go,” Martha said as she lifted Polly into the dog carrier she’d brought from home. “I’m taking you to meet Bo.”

  “Who’s Bo?”

  Martha whirled around at the sound of a male voice. “Luke! I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

  He motioned to the ginger-colored cocker spaniel he held on a leash. “Came to buy my mamm a birthday present.”

  A pang of envy shot through Martha. She wished she’d been able to buy a pair of cocker spaniels, but she needed to be practical. Since she already had a male beagle, it made sense to buy him a mate.

  “She’s beautiful,” Martha said, bending down to pet the spaniel. “Was is dei name?”

  “Her name’s Cindy, and she’s a purebred with papers. I think my mamm’s gonna like her, don’t you?”

  “Oh jah.” Martha’s heart skipped a beat when Luke smiled at her. How could anyone think he could be responsible for the terrible things that had been done to her family? Besides, no one had proven that Luke had been behind the break-ins or horrible attacks. He’d told her that he hadn’t taken his truck out on Christmas Eve, so she was sure he wasn’t the one who had rammed Ruth and Martin’s buggy.

  “I see you bought yourself another beagle,” Luke said, motioning to the dog carrier in the back of Martha’s buggy.

  “I got her to replace Flo.”

  Luke nodded. “John’s happy with her, too. Said she does a real good job running down rabbits for him.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Martha shook her head. “She sure wasn’t able to give me the puppies I needed to get my business going good.”

  “Maybe this beagle will work out better for you.”

  “I hope so. The paper that came with her said she’s already had one litter of pups. At least I know she’s not barren.”

  Luke scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot. “I’ve been wondering—how’s your sister getting along these days?”

  “Which sister?”

  “Ruth.”

  “She’s still struggling with her grief over losing Martin, but we’re trying to help her through it, and she’s taking it one day at a time.”

  “That’s the best way to deal with anything. Jah, just one day at a time,” he said with a nod.

  Martha smiled. If Luke had been the one responsible for Martin’s death, he surely wouldn’t be asking about Ruth or looking so sad-eyed right now. She was sure he was innocent. If only he would get baptized and join the church, maybe her dad, the bishop, and others in their community would realize Luke was one of them.

  Martha glanced at the cocker spaniel again. “I would have liked to bid on a pair of spaniels to breed, but I figured it would be best to get a mate for Bo.”

  “Say, I’ve got an idea.” Luke’s dark eyes seemed to dance with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you get yourself a male cocker and breed it with my mamm’s female?”

  “That’s a nice thought, but it won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “The pups your mamm’s dog might have would be hers, not mine. If she sold them, the money would be hers, too.”

  Luke reached up to scratch the side of his head and knocked his straw hat to the ground. “Maybe Mom would be willing to split the profits with you. After all, she’d have to pay for stud service if she wanted to breed the dog on her own,” he said, bending over to retrieve the hat.

  “I might have to talk to your mamm about this. After I’m able to buy a male cocker, that is.”

  “I’m making pretty good money working for John. Maybe I could loan you what you need to buy the dog.”

  “I couldn’t let you do that.”

  “Why not?”

  Martha didn’t feel she could tell Luke that her dad would have a fit if he got wind that Luke had loaned her money, but she couldn’t accept his gracious offer, either. “If I’m going to build up my business, then I want to do it on my own.”

  “Guess I can understand that. I pretty much feel the same way about what I’m doing.”

  “But you work for someone; I’m trying to build my own business.”

  Luke shrugged. “I’ve got plans for
the future, though. Plans I haven’t told anyone about.”

  Martha didn’t feel it would be right to press him about whatever plans he might have, so she gave the cocker spaniel another pat and said, “Guess I’d better get home. I told my mamm I’d be there around noon.”

  “I should go, too. Gotta give this critter to my mamm before it starts thinkin’ I’m its master.”

  Martha laughed and climbed into her buggy. “I hope to see you at the next preaching service, Luke.”

  “Jah, sure.” He lifted a hand in a wave as he led the cocker spaniel away.

  As Martha pulled out of the parking lot a few minutes later, a sense of hope welled in her soul. She was glad she had met up with Luke today.

  Rosemary’s palms turned sweaty, and her legs felt like two sticks of rubber as she followed Ruth down a dirt path toward a white building. Would Roman recognize her after all these years? Would she know him? Would he welcome her home or turn her away?

  “Dad, there’s someone here to see you,” Ruth said as they stepped into the woodworking shop a few minutes later.

  Rosemary fought the urge to sneeze as the sharp odor of stain came in contact with her nose.

  A young man with dark brown hair and a square jaw looked up from the chair he was staining and smiled. Rosemary knew he wasn’t her brother. The man was too young to be Roman.

  “Who’s with you, Ruth?” a deep voice called out. “I’m about to have lunch with your mamm.”

  When Rosemary peered around Ruth, she caught sight of a middle-aged Amish woman standing in front of a workbench, and when the woman moved aside, Rosemary’s heart felt as if it had stopped beating. The man sitting at the workbench had to be her brother. Hair that had once been full and dark was now thinning and streaked with gray, but the slight hump in the center of his nose was still there, and so were his piercing dark eyes.

  “Roman, it’s me,” she said, moving closer to him. “I–I’ve come home.”

  He tipped his head and stared at her. “Do I know you?”

  She nodded, unable to answer his question.

  “Dad, it’s your sister, Rosemary,” Ruth said, touching Rosemary’s elbow with her hand.