Hester Takes Charge

by Byler, Linda;

  Noah could tell by the droop of her shoulders that she struggled with failure inside her, the feeling that she was nothing, an outcast, and now, a liar, a sham, and worth less than nothing. Bappie had told him what happened.

  A love welled up in his chest, unrivaled by anything he had ever felt for her. This lovely, lovely woman, so battered by life, by experiences that drained the small amount of self-worth she did have, threw her gift away like a used shell, broken into a thousand pieces.

  One high step, and he was across the shafts. Up went both hands to her shoulders, which he gently clasped, and then drew slightly toward himself. He could find no words to express what he felt, so he applied a bit more pressure. His chest exploded when she came willingly. A stifled sound of defeat emerged from her lips, a small, entreating sound of pain, a gentle begging.

  Noah had never held Hester. Only in his dreams did he allow himself the thought of perhaps, someday, being able to take the liberty. Far beyond his imagining was the feel of her, and the thought that she allowed herself to stand in the circle of his arms, if only for a moment.

  Hester laid her head on his firm, rounded shoulder, closed her eyes, and let the delicious encounter with the broad chest close over her like a warmed quilt on a cold winter night.

  They stepped apart, Noah relinquishing her to the wide space that was the remainder of the world, the great atmosphere that now seemed an eternity, a million miles between them.

  He gathered his senses, called in his thoughts. “I’m sorry to hear of your …” Almost, he said, “refusal to practice the use of your herbs,” but he caught himself and said, “loss of the herbs.”

  Hester nodded, a slight movement of her head, but the large eyes, fringed by the beauty of her lashes, stayed on his. She wondered how he knew and what he thought, yet she wasn’t ready to ask and risk hearing his opinion. She pulled away and lowered her eyelids, the thick dark lashes sweeping her cheeks like the delicacy of a bird’s wingtips.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Levi and Bappie return, so he said quickly, “Hester, it was one woman. One opinion. You are not a liar.”

  “How do you know? Who told you?”

  “Bappie.”

  Again she inclined her head, with only the whisper of acknowledgment.

  Levi was jubilant and in his glory. This night was his chance to show his Bappie the thing he loved most. On a dark night like this, the marauding raccoons that inhabit the fields and streams of southern Pennsylvania became unaccountably bold and daring, breaking into henhouses, eating eggs, chickens, and hatchlings, plus corn from the fields, pulling down ear after ear. They’d eat a small amount, then leave the year’s profits to waste in the frozen mud of autumn.

  For once he hoped to display the reason he kept all these lean dogs, unattractive perhaps, but worth their weight in redeemed corn and the contents of henhouses. Simply put, they were his passion. Now they set off, the men shouldering their guns, the rifles thick and heavy, as deadly as Hester remembered of Hans and the boys bringing in wild game in winter.

  Down the small incline behind the barn they went, the creek next to it gurgling full and glinting in the starlight where the ripples roiled over the boulders hidden beneath.

  Levi lifted the kerosene lantern, telling Bappie where to put her feet, pointing out the three smooth rocks placed at proper distances to step across the stream, proud that he had so much forethought. Bappie, on the other hand, was thinking, Here’s something else that needs attention—building a decent footbridge going to the cornfields. How did he think she was going to bring him dinner, or a cold drink of ginger tea on a hot day, if she had to leap across from stone to stone?

  A bit huffy now, she started across, becoming distracted by the splashing, surging hounds. She slipped, stumbled, and remained upright, but she was in the water up to her knees now, her long skirt dragging in the dark creek.

  Levi gasped, laughed, and kept on laughing as she clambered up the other side, her fury evident in the shrieks, grunts, and volley of grumbles that came out of her.

  “You all right, Bappie?” he shouted, after he saw her reach the opposite side.

  In answer, she plopped down on the bank, lifted her sodden, dripping skirts, shook them, and yelled, “Levi Buehler, now what am I supposed to do?”

  A whoop from Levi, a bent-over figure slapping his knee, and his hilarity sparked a shout of anger from the bedraggled figure on the bank.

  Bappie took off first one shoe, then the other, dumped the creek water out, and pulled her socks off as if shedding a second skin, all the while mumbling about coon hunts and creek stones. She wiggled her slippery toes and glared at Hester, who came bounding across, her arms outstretched for balance, the toes of her moccasins curling around the stones. Noah followed, striding across easily, a bit of mud on his boots the only evidence he had been close to water.

  Levi dried his eyes, made his way across, sniffed, then stood above Bappie, asking if she wanted to go back and dry her feet. But Bappie regained her pride, grabbed hold of her shoelaces, stood up, and stalked off. Levi stumbled after her with the lantern bobbing like a misplaced moon, the smirk still not completely wiped off his face.

  Noah looked at Hester. She lifted her chin, and they started off. Noah reached for her hand, but only in spirit, restraining himself, unsure of the outcome if he touched her. In silence, they followed the bobbing light, Hester as light and quick on her feet as she had always been, like a fawn, her footsteps effortless and easy.

  The silence was not uncomfortable, yet it was there like a garment unneeded but tolerated, a bit too snug, a slight tension between them.

  Hester wanted to ask him why he had come, if he planned more of these forays, and if he was here in Lancaster County as a permanent resident. A thousand questions, quenched by her pride.

  The need to break the silence was eclipsed by the unearthly howl from one dog, and then the eerie baying joined by ten more voices, as each dog took up the scent.

  “Coon! Co-oo-n!” roared Levi, immediately bounding after the dogs. Bappie dug her toes into her sodden leather shoes and hustled after him.

  Laughing, Noah reached for Hester’s hand. He wasn’t thinking when he did it. He just wanted to be sure she wouldn’t stumble and could keep up. She placed her hand in his, as natural as breathing. Together they hurried after the leading lantern and the baying, yipping, frenzied pack of dogs.

  They plunged through the dark woods on spongy moss and wet earth, through puddles, tripping over tree roots, righting themselves, and resuming the dash to keep up. Ahead, the trail dipped down a steep incline. Noah gripped her hand tighter, his breathing fast.

  “You all right, Hester?”

  She nodded, then remembering the dark, said, “Yes.”

  They slipped and slid. When Hester’s feet lurched out from under her, she sat down hard, her hand yanked loose from Noah’s. He stopped immediately as Hester’s laugh rang out.

  “Like a mule, Noah!”

  He laughed.

  She got to her feet, the bobbing lantern below them, the hounds setting up an unearthly ruckus. Hester had never heard anything like it.

  “Co-oon!” Levi yelled, in a high crazy pitch.

  They reached the giant tree on the banks of a wide, still creek bed. Levi bent over backward, his hat tilted up on his head as he searched for the elusive raccoon, the dogs leaping, falling back, howling like banshees.

  Bappie stood staunchly, the coonhounds knocking against her bedraggled skirts. She took no notice of them, her head tilted at the same angle as Levi’s as she stepped in one direction, then another, helping Levi find the raccoon.

  Hester and Noah reached the melee but chose to stay back, observing how this was done.

  “There he is!” screeched Bappie, her voice only snatches between the sound of agitated dogs.

  Immediately, Levi was by her side, his long neck stretching out of his shirt collar, the wispy gray beard like old moss. Lifting his rifle to his shoulder, he point
ed it at a ridiculous angle, squinted, and fired off a deafening shot. Hester heard the rustling of leaves as the heavy body of the raccoon tottered, then fell down through the branches, snapping off small ones, loosening twigs and leaves, till a dull splat sounded and the animal was on the ground.

  Amazingly, the hounds stayed back. Their baying ceased almost instantly, but not quite. One young dog had not been taken on a hunt more than a few times, the yipping sound from her a testimony to her inexperience. Levi bounded over, cuffed her sharply, and shouted, “No. No.” The small hound lowered herself to her stomach, as another smart blow landed across her nose.

  “You listen to me, Baby. When that coon is down, you hush up.” Bappie watched as Levi picked up the fat raccoon, rolled it onto its back, and made a swift incision down his stomach. A few flicks of the curved knife, an order for the dogs, and a pelt hung on his pack. The remainder of the coon was torn apart by the snarling, fighting pack of hungry dogs.

  “Onward, ho!” Levi shouted. The hounds took the cue to resume howling, their noses to the ground, first in one direction, then another, tumbling over each other and snapping, as quarrelsome as tired children.

  Another coon, and Bappie sat down on the floor of the forest, her legs straight out in front of her, propped up by the angle of her arms. “That’s it, Levi. My feet are soaked inside these shoes, and I have at least a dozen blisters.”

  “You sure, Bappie? We can get another, maybe two.”

  “Well, you just go right ahead. I’m staying here.”

  Undecided, Levi hesitated. He had never taken a girl coon-hunting and certainly never his wife, so he guessed if Bappie was tired, it would be the honorable thing to take her home.

  He cleared his throat, then scratched his head by tilting his hat back over his head. In the light of the lantern, Hester saw his eyes soften as he watched Bappie yank off a sodden shoe and rub her toes, grimacing with the pain of the raw blisters that had formed there.

  “We’ll have to carry you home, I guess, won’t we?” he said, gently. Bappie became so frustrated she put her shoe on again, got to her feet, lifted her chin, and set off, calling back, “Of course not. I can get home. What makes you think I can’t? It’s not that bad.”

  Noah smiled and turned to follow with Hester behind him. Levi brought up the rear, the lantern bobbing as he hurried to catch up to his indignant bride-to-be.

  Back at the house, they were amazed to find it was past midnight. Levi stirred up the fire and put a kettle on, while Bappie threw off the offending shoes, yanked off her socks, and turned her head to hide the pain of the raw blisters.

  Hester saw them. If only she had chickweed, comfrey, perhaps a burdock leaf. But she stashed that idea away and didn’t say a word. She would not go back to that, ever.

  Every ounce of her pride intact, Bappie got to her feet, padded lightly to the table, then hid her poor, injured feet in the safety of the shadows beneath it.

  Noah sat in the lamplight, wide and solid, his white shirt open at the throat, his blond hair a halo of light that reflected the yellow flame from the lamp. His blue eyes were lined at the corners, his mouth wide with the kindness he carried in his features, a soft revelation of his feelings. His eyes left Hester’s face only occasionally when he was brought back to the present by a spoken word from Levi or Bappie.

  Bappie got to her feet, moving cautiously, the blisters a riot of pain. Levi noticed, gently took her shoulders in his large, gnarly hands, and stopped her.

  “Sit down, Bappie. I’ll get the tea.”

  Bappie looked at him, opened her mouth to resist, closed it, let herself be guided to a chair, then sat down heavily, her face flaming.

  Forgetting Hester’s purging of her medicines, Noah said, “Don’t you have something for her feet, Hester?”

  She hesitated, keeping her eyes lowered. Pouting only a bit, she shook her head.

  That exchange twisted a knife in Bappie’s ill-concealed humiliation; she so hated being the weak one. “Puh!” she spat.

  Levi turned, watching her.

  “You need a mother to tell you to get off your pitiful self and stop acting so childish, Hester,” Bappie ground out.

  Hester’s eyes widened with surprise. She felt the heat rise in her face and was glad for the color of her skin. “Yes, well, my mother is dead, the only mother I knew. She would not have said that to me.”

  “Well, she should have. Stubborn girl.”

  Noah interjected, unable to watch Hester miss Kate. “She was hurt too many times, Bappie. It would be hard to practice medicinal plants if people made fun of your ability.”

  Bappie snorted, “Oh, get over it, Noah. Which one of us sitting here at this table has not had their ears clipped by negative words? Huh? Who hasn’t been told where they’re wrong? It’s weak to throw out a lifetime of knowledge. It’s stiff and proud and self-centered. Think of others, Hester, not yourself and how you are a poor martyr, persecuted by awful people. Fight back. The only thing that will prove your worth is the bedrock of the whole idea—people who get well after all the different illnesses you’ve worked with. Sores and fevers and poxes and rashes.”

  She pulled her feet out from under the table, lifted one, spread the toes, and winced painfully. “And these blisters.”

  Noah looked at Hester for only a second before he looked away. Hester’s face registered pain and the fury of emptying all those bottles, but there was something else. Bewilderment? He didn’t know and he didn’t try guessing.

  After that, a somber mood hung over the room. No matter how many lighthearted remarks Levi attempted to dispel it, the atmosphere didn’t change.

  Noah hitched up his horse, and Bappie and Hester climbed into the buggy. They left Bappie’s borrowed brown horse till another day, allowing Noah to transport them since they had no lights on their buggy.

  When they reached their backyard, Bappie clambered off the buggy, mumbled a word of farewell, and hobbled into the house, bent over by the blisters, stepping gingerly as if walking on pins.

  When Hester got out to follow, Noah stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Will you wait and listen to something I have to say?” In the light of the flickering kerosene lamps attached to the buggy, her luminous eyes were dark with a polished sheen of yellow, a reflection from the flames mirrored there.

  He turned to look at her, losing himself in her eyes. “Hester, I know you’re having a bad time with the herbs and all. But I do believe you need to reconsider. It’s a shame to throw all that wisdom, or whatever you call it—the knowhow—to throw all that away.” Hester sat quietly listening, the only sound the dull whacking of her pulse.

  “Summer and its heat will soon be here. So I’m asking if you’d consider going with me to a few places I found on the Dan Stoltzfus farm. I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a secret.”

  Hester smiled, a small lifting of the corners of her mouth. “We used do to it all the time.”

  “What?”

  “Roam the woods and fields. Snare rabbits, find birds’ nests.

  “Remember my slingshot?” Hester asked. “I still have it.”

  Noah laughed, a deep sound that shook the shoulder resting against hers. “You were a dead shot.”

  “I still am.”

  “Take it when we go.”

  “I haven’t said yes.”

  “No, that’s right. You haven’t. But please come with me. Just a day out as old friends.”

  He could not bring himself to say “brother and sister.” He was afraid that was all he would ever be to her. A big brother. Never a man.

  “I have no need of plants, herbs.” She spoke the words quietly, without conviction.

  “You do, Hester. Don’t let one woman’s opinion …”

  He was cut off by her passionate words. From her side of the buggy, the sound of her voice was surprising. “More than one. Often, over the years, there were those who made fun of me, our own people, as well. The
y think I am behauft mit hexerei. Even some children hold their hands sideways over their mouths, lean in, and whisper, rolling their eyes. ‘An Indian,’ they say. ‘Mixing her weeds with whiskey.’ They may as well spit in my face, it hurts the same. It will never amount to anything, this healing. The doctors know more. Every day they are learning, making pills and medicines with plants that are grown in foreign countries, better cures.”

  “But among our people, Hester, surely you can practice what you know among those who love you and know who you are.”

  “Sometimes, they’re the worst.”

  “Who? Name one.”

  Hester refused, crossing her arms and leaning back against the seat, the flame from the lantern flickering and losing her.

  Suddenly, Noah said, “If we were small the way we used to be, I’d pull you out of this buggy and beat you up good and proper.”

  There was a small sputter from the recesses of the buggy, then a sound of merriment and a whoosh, followed by a genuine laugh. But something like a sob stopped the laughter, a choking sound, and Hester was crying, muffling the sound with the handkerchief she fumbled to produce.

  Frightened and unable to stop it, Noah sat, his hands drooping helplessly, thinking he had said something terrible. He had never heard Hester cry. And he certainly didn’t know how to stop her.

  He spoke miserably, his voice edged in pain. “Don’t cry, Hester. I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t you.”

  Noah didn’t know what to say. He felt big and dumb and completely at a loss.

  She shuddered and blew her nose so delicately, he wasn’t sure if that was the sound he heard. Then she said, “Sometimes I wish we could go back and be children, when life was good, carefree, easy.”

  She took a deep breath, as if clearing the air between them. “All right, Noah, I’ll go. You can come with your horse and buggy, but don’t ask me yet if I’ll gather plants. I have not decided if I’ll go back to herbs and medicines.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “I’ll make molasses crinkles. Our mother used to make them all the time because you and I loved them so much.”