With Winter's First Frost

by Kelly Irvin

  “She’s spent three years preparing to leave. Every day she’s been preparing to leave.” Ruby’s lips trembled. She hid them behind her hankie. “And I never even noticed. What kind of mudder does that make me?”

  “One secure in Gott’s plan for you and for your kinner.” The words sounded thin in Laura’s ears. She hadn’t noticed Tamara’s hike off the path either. What kind of grandmother did that make her? “We’re not to worry, but to trust and obey.”

  “She could obey better.”

  “Agreed, but she is a gut girl. She will make the right decision.”

  Gott, please.

  Her tears replaced by an anxious smile, Ruby nodded. Her hands relaxed. With a deep, audible breath she slipped the hankie into her canvas bag. “Here they come.”

  They did indeed. Tamara carried two plates piled high with food. Emmett followed behind with two more. Laura forced a bright smile. “Danki, child. That looks so gut. You didn’t forget the cake, did you?”

  “Nee, of course not. This one with the big hunk of cake is yours. Mary Katherine said to tell you to eat it first. She said that’s the license of old age, to eat dessert first.”

  “I’m not old.” Laura took the plate and let her smile extend to Emmett. “How do you like Jamesport?”

  “It’s gut. I’m settling in.” His gaze bounced toward Tamara and back to Laura. “I expected to be homesick, but I’m not at all. Anthony has plenty of work for me to do, and Molly feeds me far too well. And the company has been gut.”

  No doubt in his meaning. Tamara’s cheeks colored a pretty pink. “Give Mudder her plate, will you?”

  With great care he handed a plate piled equally high to Ruby. She nodded so hard her head might fall off. “Danki. We’re glad you’re here. Our district can always use another hardworking, faithful young man. Have you been baptized, then? Or will you do that here? How old are you?”

  “Mudder!” Tamara’s color deepened to rose red. “I’m going to eat with Molly. She has loads to tell me about something or other.” She whirled and strode away, leaving Emmett to fend for himself.

  “I’m twenty-four. Baptized at twenty.” He didn’t seem to mind answering the questions. In fact his blue eyes sparkled. He had dimples that grew when he smiled. His gaze followed Tamara. “I need to find Anthony. He doesn’t want to stay too long. He says the weather is getting worse and little Daphne has been fighting a cold.”

  “Jah, of course. Eat your food before it gets cold.” Ruby waved her plastic fork in the air. “Have a Happy New Year.”

  “I intend to.” He made a beeline for the spot where Molly and Tamara sat, next to the two Hershberger children.

  “See, I told you.”

  Ruby sighed. “You’re always right. I’m so glad I can rely on that.”

  “Nee. Rely on Gott. Say your prayers and humbly accept His answer, whatever it may be.”

  “That’s what I meant.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Mary Katherine was right. No shame could be found in eating dessert first. Especially when it was New Year’s Eve and, in a few weeks, she would celebrate the beginning of her seventy-fourth year on earth.

  “So Zechariah gave you a Christmas present.”

  Mary Katherine had a big mouth and no thought for a woman’s privacy. “He did. Why?”

  Ruby chewed and swallowed a big bite of hot German potato salad. “I was wondering if maybe Tamara isn’t the only one in the family courting.”

  “Don’t wander too far, you’ll get lost.” Laura caught several other heated retorts before they slipped out of the corral. “With more than fifty grands and great-grandkinner, there’s bound to be more than a few.”

  She caught most of them. At least Mary Katherine didn’t know about the kiss. The single kiss. All alone waiting for another.

  “No need to get snippy.” Ruby giggled. After her earlier anxiety, it was good to see her smile, even if it was at Laura’s expense. She speared a chunk of turkey breast and left it suspended in air for a second. “It would be gut for Zechariah to have someone to take care of him. That’s a nasty disease he’s got and it’ll only get worse. He needs a healthy fraa to give him companionship in his last days.”

  If Ruby thought Laura was snippy before, she hadn’t seen anything yet. “You think that’s the only reason someone my age or his age would get married? The only reason someone would marry a man like Zechariah is to be his caregiver? To change his sheets and wipe the drool from his lower lip?”

  “Nee. I didn’t say that.” Ruby’s eyes widened. She leaned back as if to escape the fierce flow of words. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just hate to see folks alone in their old age. My mann isn’t perfect, but I like having him around. It’s hard to imagine what it must be like.”

  She stuttered over the last words and halted. “You surely miss Daed this time of year.” Her gaze fluttered over Laura’s shoulder. “No one should be alone during the holidays.”

  Laura stifled the urge to swivel to see what her daughter saw. “A woman with nine kinner, fifty-two grandkinner, and twenty-eight great-grands is never alone.”

  “You know what I mean and like I said before, no need to get snippy.” Ruby laid her plate on the bench and picked up one of the sorghum-molasses cookies her daughter had stacked on it. “Especially when he’s sitting over there all alone in a crowd, likely feeling sorry for himself.”

  It couldn’t be helped. Laura hazarded a quick peek. Indeed, Zechariah sat on the men’s side with a full plate of food next to him on the bench. His shoulders were hunched, his eyes hooded under his black hat. He did not look happy.

  Laura straightened. “Did you expect me to do something about it?”

  “Nee. I don’t want you to scandalize everyone here.” Ruby’s whole body quivered with indignation at the thought. “I just meant you can see why I feel for him. And he gave you a present so he feels for you. You might somehow let him know how you feel. If you do. Of course.”

  This conversation had veered so far off course, Laura couldn’t find the road for the thickets of trees and weeds. “Are you matchmaking, child, with your own mudder?”

  “I might be.” Ruby plucked at crumbs that had fallen on her apron. “Would that be so terrible? A dochder who wants her mudder to have a little more happiness in life?”

  Laura stood and leaned over Ruby. She kissed her cheek with a big smack. “You’ve always been my favorite, you know.”

  “I knew it.” Her face pink with pleasure, Ruby chortled. “I know you’re teasing, but still, as the last one to come along, it’s nice to know you’re not getting the leavings.”

  “Pray for Gott’s will in all things.” Laura dropped another kiss on Ruby’s forehead. The holidays made her this way, full of feelings that seemed to pour from her. Happiness. Joy. Sweet contentment. Love. Happiness that her family was healthy. Joy at the way they had grown through the year. Sweet contentment at her place in their lives. Love for every child and every adult.

  That still left that tiny little corner in her heart that said, what about me?

  What about me?

  She glanced at Zechariah.

  His head lifted and he stared straight at her. A steely-eyed, cool stare like a barbed-wire fence complete with a NO-TRESPASSING sign.

  Too bad. Laura stared right back. Her own steely-eyed, cool stare like a rider on a sleek horse galloping full-out, leaping over that fence right into the heart of the matter.

  She marched to the table, picked up a plate, and stacked it with desserts. Candy cane cookies, toffee bars, butterscotch brownies, lemon squares, and thumbprint cookies.

  With a deep breath and a silent prayer, she marched to the corner where he’d taken up residence. “I’m the dessert lady.” She kept her tone light, her smile lighter. “You look like you can use sweetening.”

  His gaze faltered. “Danki, but I’m not hungry.”

  “Eating cookies has nothing
to do with hungry.” She slapped the plate down next to him and took a step back. “Happy New Year, Zechariah.”

  He glanced around. His gaze softened. “Happy New Year, Laura.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  His lips pressed together. He shook his head. “Nee.”

  “Missing Marian?”

  “Always.”

  “But especially on holidays.”

  He nodded.

  “Danki again for the binoculars.”

  He nodded again. “No need.”

  “I’d like to try them out soon.” She glanced around. No one paid the least attention. Still, she picked up a cookie and nibbled at it. “Do you still want me to go to Swan Lake with you?”

  “It is one of the best birding days of the year.” The words held longing. “The swans are beautiful and so are the eagles. You should go.”

  “With you as my guide.”

  “I went to the doctor yesterday. There’s been progression. The spasticity is worse, which means my ability to walk is affected. Michael says no birding for me.”

  “With help, you could go. With someone to hold on to.”

  His head came up. His gaze locked with hers. “You think so?”

  “I think where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  The gloom disappeared. He smiled. “You need to use those binoculars.”

  “I do.”

  The two syllables hung in the air with the timbre of a small bell.

  Heat burned Laura’s face.

  “Time to go, Groossdaadi.”

  The ever-present Michael. He tucked his arm under Zechariah’s. Zechariah tugged away. “Danki, I’m capable of getting up on my own.” With dignity he stood. “Happy New Year, Laura.”

  “Happy New Year.”

  He winked.

  She glanced at Michael and Cathy. They were busy herding children. She returned the wink. “Until then.”

  He nodded, scooped up Michael’s youngest as if he weighed no more than a doll, and strolled out the door.

  The new year had begun early.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE FIRST DAY OF A NEW YEAR HELD SO MUCH PROMISE. No matter a person’s age, the new year stretched forward with 365 days, each one a blank slate, each one an opportunity to work hard and be faithful to family and community.

  Laura snuggled under the covers and contemplated staying in bed two more minutes. Only her nose peeked from the warmth of a flannel sheet, a fleecy blanket, and three quilts. The wind whistled outside, smacking branches against her window. A quick gander told her darkness still prevailed. The days were short and the nights long this time of year, especially when dark clouds blanketed the sky from horizon to horizon. Icy pellets of sleet mixed with snow pelted the glass.

  She should start breakfast. Ben would get the fire in the fireplace blazing any minute. New Year’s Day or not, he had chores to do. Children had to be fed, holiday or not. Tamara would stoke the fire in the wood-burning stove in the kitchen, as she did every day before bringing out the babies to keep them warm in a cradle nearby while they cooked breakfast. Laura enjoyed her company. She liked to sing to Mia and Mary while she cooked, making meal preparation a festive affair.

  Laura stretched and contemplated which muscles ached. Easier to count which ones didn’t. She had no right to complain. Her limbs weren’t caught in the grips of a disease like Parkinson’s.

  Which brought her to Zechariah. A few words of encouragement and a chance to do what he loved filled the man with spark, with life. She needed to come through. Somehow they would get to Swan Lake.

  She needed a plan.

  “Think. Think, old woman.” She threw back the covers. “It’s not like he’s in prison.”

  The binoculars, safe in their pink bag, lay on the table next to her stack of cards and writing materials for her letter circles. Waiting to be used. She still had a few days to work out the details.

  First things first. Breakfast.

  Shivering, she rushed to dress. Her icy fingers refused to cooperate, making the braiding and pinning of her hair under her kapp a long, harrowing experience. By the time she marched into the kitchen, her shoulders ached and it seemed likely that her kapp hung askew.

  Cold air wafted through the kitchen. No flames crackled merrily in the stove. Instead, cold, dead ashes awaited her. No merry tunes abounded. Only the tick-tick of the battery-operated clock on the wall that told her it was six o’clock. Late.

  “Someone had a late night.” Was talking aloud to herself a sign of impending dementia brought on by old age? Perhaps the sleigh ride with Emmett had born fruit. Maybe Tamara also saw bright possibilities in the new year—opportunities that would come to her only if she stayed with family and community. “Best let her sleep in a bit.”

  Despite frozen fingers, Laura managed to get the fire going in short order. Wonderful, blissfully hot, aromatic coffee next. Pancakes and bacon sounded good. Between the coffee and the bacon, the smells would bring everyone scurrying to the breakfast table. Maybe even Tamara. Laura applied herself to whipping the batter. She sang her own song. Not as festive as Tamara’s, but “How Great Thou Art” was her favorite English hymn.

  “My, you are bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning.” Rosalie shuffled into the room in terry-cloth slippers. She held a baby in each arm. Dark circles spoke of what kind of night she’d had. New mothers always paid a price for staying up late on special occasions. “Is the kaffi hot?”

  “It is and there’s milk if you’d like a dab.”

  “And sugar. Lots of sugar.” Rosalie laughed as she laid her precious cargo in the cradle they shared. Both girls were wide eyed. Mia had a milk stain on her nightgown. Mary yawned and fussed.

  “No fussing, either of you.” A look of pain on her face, Rosalie put one hand on her hip and stretched. “You’ve been changed, fed, and burped. Mudder’s turn.” She grabbed a fat, green ceramic mug from the counter and filled it to the brim with coffee. “Where’s Tamara?”

  “What do you mean, where’s Tamara?” Laura dropped a dab of lard on the griddle. It sizzled. She added six half-dollar-size puddles of batter. “Isn’t she in her room, sleeping in?”

  “Nee. She never came in to check on the boplin, but I figured she was out late with her special friend. I figured that was a gut thing.” Rosalie cupped the mug with both hands and blew on the steaming liquid. “But when I called to her this morning to bring me some clean diapers, she didn’t answer. So I peeked in her room. Her bed hasn’t been slept in. That’s a whole other ball of wax. Ruby and Martin will be so disappointed in her. And this Emmett, what do we know about him, really?”

  The coffee in Laura’s stomach heaved in an acidic wave. Her throat burned. “Watch the pancakes and bacon for me?”

  “Surely, but she’s not there. I looked.”

  Not there. What would be better? Staying out all night with a Plain man like Emmett Bays? Or slipping away to an Englisch life?

  The first. It could be forgiven and forgotten if it didn’t happen again. She might be in her rumspringa still after all these years, but Tamara knew the rules. So did Emmett, no doubt, even if he’d grown up in another settlement and another church district. Teenagers returned home and slipped into bed before light dawned. They didn’t rub their families’ noses in their antics.

  It wasn’t done.

  But then Hannah knew that too and she now spent her holidays alone under the bann.

  Her hands tight around a ragged dish towel, Laura trudged down the hallway to the last bedroom. That little room more like a closet than a bedroom. She forced herself to peek inside. Clean and neat. And empty. No clothes on the hooks. No brush or pins on the table. No books. Nothing except a white envelope on the pillow that lay on a Hearts and Nine Patch quilt. Laura’s name had been written in sloppy letters that suggested great hurry and stress.

  Her heart already heavy with words still unread, Laura tugged the single sheet of notebook paper from the yellowed envelope.

&nbs
p; Dear Groossmammi.

  I’m sorry. I feel I should start with those words even though I’m not sorry for what I’m doing. Not really. I’m sorry for your hurt and for the pain this will cause Mudder and Daed. I’m sorry for the holidays we won’t spend together and the hundreds of everyday family things I will miss. But I’m not sorry that I’m doing this now. A clean break is best. The time spent with Emmett has helped me see clearly what I want to do. He’s been a gut listener. He’s a gut man and I know there is a fraa for him in the future. But it’s not me. He doesn’t know me well enough to be hurt by that so that’s one less burden I carry into my life. I didn’t lead a man on or break his heart.

  Emmett came here for a new start so he understands the need for one. He understands my need to follow my heart and my dreams. I hope you can too. Tell Mudder not to worry. I know where I’m going. Today and in the future. I have a place to stay. I have a job. Next week, I’ll start classes. Dr. Reeves says she’ll help me any way she can. I’m not alone. I’ll never feel alone because I know you’ll always be with me. I carry a million memories in my heart. Nothing can change that.

  I can’t in good conscience not offer the same hope to Hannah. I hope you understand that. She desires a second chance not sullied by the sly glances of men who know “what she did” and the frowns of women who don’t want her example to lead their daughters astray. I know all about forgiveness and how we say we forgive, but we so often do not forget. Hannah’s too young to suffer this fate. I have to do what I think is right.

  Happy New Year.

  Love, Tamara

  Underneath, she’d signed a bunch of x’s and o’s. Hugs and kisses. Laura plopped on the bed and stared out the room’s only window. The sun had crested over the horizon, backlighting woolly black clouds that hinted of more sleet and snow.

  Her heart plummeted. Hannah. Had Tamara taken her?

  Tossing the letter on the bed, she shot to her feet. Gott, please keep these girls safe. Guard them and keep them. Please don’t let Hannah be led astray too.

  “Laura?” Rosalie met her at the door. “What is it? What’s happened?”