“I’m sorry,” she said to Lavina. “He’s just nervous about the test.” She put her napkin down and rose. “I’m going to go up and talk to him.”
“Mamm, eat your supper.”
She patted his hand. “You keep Lavina company. I’ll be right back.”
***
Lavina couldn’t help wincing as she listened to the argument upstairs.
“I’m sorry,” David said quietly.
She looked at David. “It’s not your fault.”
“Finish your supper and I’ll take you home.”
“What’s a PET scan?”
“Some fancy test to see if the chemo has done its work.”
“No wonder he’s worried.”
“He doesn’t need to take it out on her. She’s worried too.”
“Still—” she began.
Distracted, he waved his hand as he listened to the argument. “Eat your supper, Lavina.”
Now who was treating who like a kind? she wanted to ask. She pushed the food around on her plate, but it was hard to eat when they could hear the older couple yelling at each other.
Finally, she got up, scraped the food from her plate into the garbage, and set her plate in the sink. She stood there, uncertain of her next move.
Amos was accusing Waneta of treating him like a kind one minute, a sick old man the next.
Waneta urged him to calm down, saying it wasn’t good for him to get so upset. She urged him to take a pill, to go down and finish his supper. To apologize to Lavina for his temper. He just shouted to her that it was his haus and he wasn’t apologizing to anyone.
Nothing worked. Again she urged him to take a pill, and they heard a glass break. David jumped to his feet.
“I told you before, I will not be an old lady cowering in the corner while you rant at me!” she shouted, and then they heard her descend the stairs.
“I heard something break.”
“It’s allrecht, sohn, just a plastic glass. I keep one at his bedside table if he needs water in the middle of the night. But it’s plastic so there’s no worry of him dropping it and getting glass all over the floor.”
She resumed her place at the table. “I’m sorry, Lavina. I was hoping Amos would behave better tonight. He’s worried about the test.”
“You always make excuses for him.”
“David! Don’t talk to your mudder that way.”
“It’s true.” His hand clenched into a fist. “Maybe if you’d stood up to him before.”
She cut a bite of pork chop. “I just did.”
“Too little, too late.”
Lavina couldn’t believe what she was just hearing. But when she opened her mouth to say something Waneta waved her hand. “Let him talk. He doesn’t understand a wife is supposed to submit to her husband, to—”
“I can’t listen to this.” David stood, picked up his plate, and dumped it in the sink.
“David, you’re being rude to your mudder!”
“Some things have to be said.”
Waneta sat there, pale, her eyes fixed on her plate. “You’ve never understood the relationship I have with your dat.” She lifted her gaze. “The bishop tried to explain the role of men and women in marriage, but you wouldn’t listen—”
“Of course I wouldn’t. He was full of hogwash!”
The butterflies that had flitted around in Lavina’s stomach on the way to supper tonight felt like they’d turned into elephants. Maybe it would be best if she went home so the two of them could talk. But before she could say anything, David was talking.
“I can’t sit and listen to him treating you like this,” David said in a low voice.
“He’s gotten better,” Waneta insisted. “It’s just that he’s sick. He’s worried about tomorrow.”
David grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter. “I’m going to check on Nellie.”
He snatched his jacket from a peg near the back door and walked out. The door slammed behind him.
“He’s just going to go out to the barn and cool off,” Waneta told her reassuringly. “I have some chocolate cake for dessert. Would you like some with a cup of coffee?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m full.” She was glad she’d gotten rid of the food left on her plate so that Waneta didn’t know how little she’d eaten.
“I think I’ve had enough, too.”
Lavina wondered whether she simply meant that she’d eaten enough or she’d had enough of the turmoil. Considering that she hadn’t eaten much more than Lavina, she thought it was the latter.
“Let me help you wash up.”
Together they packed up the leftovers. “These will come in handy tomorrow when we come home from the hospital,” Waneta said as she put the Tupperware containers in the refrigerator.
They stood at the sink, and Waneta washed the dishes, and Lavina dried them and put them in the cupboard. They talked quietly as they worked. Lavina had always liked Waneta and she felt the older woman liked her as well. Undoubtedly, she’d figured out that her sohn and Lavina had been close to getting married, but like most Amish parents, didn’t pry. The only time Waneta had alluded to their relationship had been when she’d asked Lavina if she’d heard from David while he was gone . . . when she’d begged her to find him and ask him to come home because his father was ill.
And that had changed so much.
Waneta glanced at the stairs as if expecting her mann to come down, and then she glanced out at the barn looking for her sohn. She sighed.
“I think the two of them have been at odds since David was a boy,” she said as she handed Lavina a freshly washed dish. “I’m not so sure they even know what they started fighting over any more.”
“David wants his dat’s approval,” Lavina said. “He wants his ideas about the farm to be considered.”
“They had a fuss about spring planting a while back,” Waneta told her. She stared out the window, looking thoughtful. “But this time David was trying to goad Amos into thinking about something in the future, something beyond this depressing chemotherapy.”
She stopped, put her hands on the lip of the sink. “We’re all so worried about the scan tomorrow.”
Lavina took her hand, led her over to the table. “Let’s sit down and pray.”
So they sat and prayed, Waneta’s thin, worn hand in Lavina’s, and did what women did everywhere when faced with problems they couldn’t solve.
When they finished, Waneta looked around the kitchen. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go check on Amos.” She gave Lavina a mischievous smile. “Maybe you’d like to go check on David.”
Lavina glanced out at the barn. Then she looked at Waneta. She frowned. As much as she wanted to soothe David about the scene at the supper table, she couldn’t help thinking about what he’d said to his mudder, about how Waneta always made excuses about his dat. Was she any different when she urged him to keep trying to get along with the older man? Was she like David’s mudder?
Tonight she’d been so optimistic the four of them could share a family supper, and look at what had happened. Maybe she and David had both been too optimistic.
She walked over to pluck her jacket off the peg by the door, and as she pulled it on she felt an uncomfortable thought wash over her. She thought about how she’d once worried about her and David ending up having the kind of relationship his parents had, instead of the kind her parents had. The one he’d seen them have all his life was so rigid, so unhappy. Tonight, when his dat had stomped upstairs and she’d said something, David had spoken harshly to her without a thought, telling her to eat her supper. She didn’t like it, didn’t like it one bit.
She hesitated at the door, feeling cold even though she hadn’t opened the door to the outside.
Then she found herself turning and walking toward the front door. The more steps she took, the more steps she took until she had the doorknob in her hand, and she was opening the door and walking outside.
The cool air hit her. The temp
erature had dropped at least ten degrees—maybe more—since they came here tonight. It felt good after the warmth of the kitchen that had started to feel oppressive. She descended the steps quickly and began to run toward her house faster and faster. All she wanted was to get home where people loved each other, and there was no tension, no fear about what the future could bring.
Home.
She hurried into the house, shut the door behind her.
Her parents looked up from their chairs in the living room. “Lavina! You’re home early. Everything allrecht?”
Her dat frowned and looked at her over the tops of his reading glasses. “Have you been running?”
“Just a little cold out,” she said. Which was true. “Just wanted to stay warm.”
“Why don’t you go fix yourself a cup of tea and warm up?” her mother said. “I’ll join you.”
“I think I’ll just go on up to bed. I’m kind of tired.”
“Gut nacht, then.”
Her father tapped his cheek. It was their little game, one he’d started since she was a little girl. She smiled and kissed his cheek, and he hugged her. She did the same with her mudder.
Feeling loved, secure, she went upstairs and got ready for bed. As she lay there tucked under her quilt, she wondered if David could truly be a loving mann when he hadn’t known love from both his parents.
It was a disturbing thought.
17
David watched Nellie munch the apple he’d brought her.
If only his life could be as simple as hers. He leaned against the stall and felt some of the tension drain out of him.
He’d been so naïve to think they’d have a nice, quiet supper with Lavina joining them. Since when had his dat ever thought he had to behave just because company was in the haus. He’d even said he could do what he wanted in his own haus as he’d stomped upstairs.
Well, his anxiety over the big test tomorrow didn’t excuse his behavior. Nothing did. And he was going to tell him that when he went inside.
Just as soon as he cooled off a little. He walked to the doorway of the barn and looked toward the house. He could see his mudder and Lavina framed in the kitchen window as they washed dishes. They were talking so easily, these two women he loved. Too bad his dat couldn’t be more like his mudder.
“Can you imagine that?” he asked, walking back to Nellie. “Can you imagine Daed being more like Mamm?” he chuckled.
Nellie picked up on his mood and shook her head and neighed. David hugged her neck and absorbed the quiet comfort of the horse.
He lingered, puttering around the barn for a time. Finally he turned to Nellie. “I have to go in. I hope Lavina isn’t too upset.”
But when he got inside the kitchen was empty. The supper table had been cleared, dishes washed and put away, and the counters scrubbed.
He couldn’t have been gone that long. Baffled, he walked to the front door and looked out but didn’t see Lavina. He returned to the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down at the table.
A few minutes later his mudder descended the stairs and walked into the room.
“Did you take Lavina home?”
He shook his head. “I just came in and there was no one here.”
She swatted his shoulder. “I had to go up and check on your dat. I thought you’d be right in from the barn. She must have walked home. Shame on you!”
“It’s not my fault!” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “I didn’t know you weren’t still with her.”
“She was your guest, David! What kind of sohn did I raise? Where are your manners?”
He glanced at the window. It had grown dark. He stood, snatched his jacket and hat and started for the door.
“I’m going to make sure she got home safe.”
“Too little, too late,” he heard her mutter behind him.
David smashed his hat on his head and slammed out the front door.
He didn’t bother taking the truck since it was a short walk. When he knocked on Lavina’s front door her dat opened it and stared at him in surprise. “David!”
“Gut-n-owed. Is Lavina home?”
“She’s gone up to bed.”
“Oh. Uh. Allrecht.” What else could he say? “Danki.”
Lavina’s mudder came to the door. “I’ll tell her you came by when she gets up in the morning.”
“Danki.”
He turned and walked back down to the road. Glancing up, he saw the light on in her bedroom. More than once he’d thrown a handful of gravel at her window and she’d come down to sit on the porch and talk to him late, after he’d had a fight with his dat. It hadn’t mattered how late, how warm or cold the night, they’d sat in rockers on the porch and talked.
Somehow he didn’t think she wanted to talk to him tonight.
So he walked home, his steps slower this time. He let himself back into the house and found his mudder in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee.
“She’s home. Her dat said she went up to bed.”
He shed his hat and jacket and poured himself another cup of coffee. “You don’t usually drink coffee so late.”
“I’m not going to get any sleep tonight anyway.”
“Is he still arguing with you?”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead tiredly. “Nee. I’m just worried about the test tomorrow.” She looked at him. “There’s cake on the counter there.”
“I don’t feel much like cake.” He dumped sugar in his cup and stirred it. “So Lavina didn’t tell you she was leaving?”
“Nee. But she prayed with me for your dat before she left. Such a sweet maedel. Always has been.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.” He sipped his coffee and made a face. Just how much sugar had he dumped into it? “I guess she just had enough of the fuss tonight.”
“Maybe she got tired of waiting for you to come inside,” his mudder said tartly.
He winced. “You’re probably right. But she’s come out to the barn before.”
But she hadn’t tonight. Maybe she’d had enough of the fuss as he’d said. He ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what to think. The cake caught his eye.
Waneta saw him glance at it and laughed. “Have some. Chocolate solves a lot of problems.”
“So you women say.” He pulled out a knife and two plates.
“Out of the way,” she said, getting up. “I’m not having you hack at my cake.”
They turned as they heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Amos, I thought you’d gone to sleep.”
He grunted. “I smelled cake.”
She eyed him sternly. “I’m sure you did.”
When she turned her back, David saw she hadn’t forgiven him for their argument earlier. “Are you allowed to eat this late?”
“They said no food after midnight. It’s only eight.”
“So it is.”
She sliced the cake, and David carried the plates to the table. Then she went to the refrigerator, brought a quart of milk to the table, and poured Amos a glass.
He looked longingly at the percolator on the stove but he didn’t ask for coffee.
They sat eating the cake, not speaking. It was so quiet David could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Finally, David broke the tension. “Would you like me to drive you to the hospital tomorrow?”
Amos shook his head, scattering crumbs from his beard. “No need to miss a day’s work.”
David looked at his mudder. She shook her head. “We’ll be fine.”
“When will they give you the results?”
“Doc said not for a couple of days.”
“Lavina hasn’t been here for supper since you came back,” Amos said.
And she probably wouldn’t come again for a long time, David wanted to snap. But he saw the look in his mudder’s eyes and he was so tired of the strife, he bit back a retort. “Nee.”
“Nice maedel.”
David nearly bobbled his
coffee. His dat had never anything about her, had barely spoken to her at supper. “Ya.” He looked him in the eye. “She’s the one who found me and talked me into coming back.”
He stood and put his dishes in the sink. “Danki for supper, Mamm. I have to get up early for work so I’m going to bed now.” He turned to his dat. “Good luck with the test tomorrow. I’ll pray for you.”
And he climbed the stairs to bed, leaving them sitting there, not speaking.
***
“You’re the first dochder up,” her mudder said as Lavina sat down at the breakfast table the next morning. She set a cup of coffee in front of her. “David stopped by last night. He looked worried.”
“I walked home by myself,” she said carefully, glancing at the stairs.
“One or two pancakes?”
“Two please. I didn’t eat much at supper.” She poured syrup over the pancakes and cut into them.
Her mudder served the pancakes to her and then sat down with a cup of coffee. “Why am I thinking something happened?”
“Because you know Amos?”
“Was he rude to you?”
“Not to me. To Waneta, in front of all of us at the supper table. So then he went upstairs to their room and she followed him and they had a big, noisy fight.”
“You mean you could hear him yelling at her some more.”
“Nee, I mean David and I could hear her yelling back at him.”
“Waneta?
“Ya, Waneta.”
Linda sighed. “Amos being so ill has certainly put a strain on the family.”
“Mamm, it goes back farther than him being sick. He’s always been so hard on his sohns, especially David.”
Lavina forked up a bite of pancake and then set it down. “Their fight wasn’t the worst of it.” She stared at her plate, then looked up at her mudder. “Then David and I had a fight about it. So I walked home.”
“That’s why David came by. To talk to you.”
She nodded. “I don’t know, Mamm. Things just feel really complicated.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re trying to figure things out instead of being patient and letting God guide you.”
She stared at her mudder and then she laughed. “Well, of course, I am.” Feeling better, she began eating her pancakes again.
Return to Paradise Page 21