Hester Takes Charge

by Byler, Linda;

  “Like what?” Hester clasped and unclasped her knees.

  “Oh, just stuff. You know, the kinda stuff you do with your sister. Shuck corn, make hay. He said you could drive a team of horses like a man. He said you used to chew on clover and then eat the whole stalk, even the purple blossoms. Stuff like that. To me, seemed as if he loved you a whole lot more than most brothers, but then, he ain’t your real brother.

  “In fact, I think he loves you the way grown folks do, not some kinda brotherly thing that he tried to make me think it was. But then, Hester, I always wanted to marry you. Remember? So maybe I shouldn’t tell you all this.”

  Hester laughed. “Is this a proposal? You still want to marry me, Billy?”

  He turned to look at her with the frank good humor of the eleven-year-old he was when he had saved her life.

  “Yeah, I do. The only thing is, you’re Amish, and I don’t like them big caps you all wear.”

  Hester tilted back her head and laughed. It felt good to be with Billy who had not changed so terribly much. Bless his heart. She would have hugged him, but that would never have been proper, so she leaned her shoulder against his, and said, “Dear Billy. I would have you, although I’m at least nine or ten years older than you.”

  “That’s not too old. You’re still a beauty. Never saw anyone prettier, I don’t think.”

  “You don’t think! Oh, come on. There’ve been quite a few.”

  Billy shook his head, resolute in his spoken declaration. “Nah, I’ll have to see if I can find that Noah. What was his last name?”

  “Zug.”

  “Oh, yeah, funny name. But guess that’s yours, too, ain’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  Then, because she felt like a traitor, she told Billy that Noah had found her, that they were friends, and that he’d come back to the Amish again.

  “Noah’s Amish? I don’t believe it.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “He wasn’t Amish when I knew him.”

  “No, he wasn’t.”

  “So what’s going to happen now?”

  Hester remained quiet for some time, then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  She told Billy more about having been married to William. She described it as less than perfect, trying to avoid the issue that stayed with her, the lack of restraint on her part.

  Billy looked at her. “But I guess you of all people—you know, bein’ Amish and all, you know, taught to be good and righteous and all that stuff—should know that marriage goes well if you’re good people, don’t it?”

  His words, the wisdom in them, were a blow, a hard whack below the ribs that took her breath away.

  There it was. The whole thing. Placed in her lap in all its monstrosity. She shuddered and clasped her hands tightly in her lap, interlocking her fingers until the knuckles turned white from the pressure she applied.

  “William was good. It was me. I was rebellious toward him. I have suffered remorse. Wished it would have been otherwise.”

  “I can see that.”

  There it was again. Billy could see it, and he knew her well. The upcoming event, this going with Noah on a picnic or an adventure, a secret, he had said, would have to be stopped. Her mind churned, her thoughts of the future caterwauling about, unsettling every semblance of peace she may ever have held.

  They got up, speaking their goodbyes. Walter and Emma gathered up the boys and went home to their own house.

  Hester let herself in the back door, numb and reeling with the words Billy had spoken. She found Bappie jubilant, glowing, and fairly walking on her tiptoes, caught up in the heartfelt congratulations Walter and Emma had strewn about the room like confetti.

  “Walter loved my napkins,” she sang out.

  “Good.”

  Hester pushed past Bappie, clomped up the steps, and sat on her bed, staring dead ahead, not seeing anything. Her hands hung loosely from her knees, her feet thrust in front of her.

  She felt like a desert, dry, unforgiven, without life. First, the vegetable garden was taken, then the farm, and next the herbs, her lifelong passion thrown into a bucket and dumped in the outhouse. And now Bappie was going.

  There were no tears; she felt no emotion. Only an emptiness, a lifeless landscape of sand and cold wind, a barren place in her soul.

  It had all started, all her misery, when Hans behaved unseemly. That’s all it was. It was Hans. Unsure about how she could ever forgive him, she set her lips and planned the remainder of her life without Noah’s or any other man’s help.

  CHAPTER 13

  ON SATURDAY AFTERNOON NOAH ARRIVED, DRIVING DAN Stoltzfus’s new buggy, the one he had built for his son, Ezra. It was a topless carriage, glistening black as if it was wet. The seat was upholstered in blue; the floor of the buggy was carpeted as well.

  The black gelding horse had lots of fire, his neck arched proudly, his tail flowing in a graceful arc.

  The harness was new by all appearances, without a trace of dust or grease. Because it belonged to an unmarried young man, a few silver rings and other splashes of fanciness popped up here and there.

  Hester had become completely undone as she bathed, washed her hair, and put on the clean, freshly ironed blue dress. Its indigo color matched the spring buntings, those elusive little birds that appeared too infrequently, singing their hearts out from high places.

  If only her head could convince her heart to quit slamming around in her chest. Her anticipation of seeing Noah had driven away all the resolve she had shored up against him, like sandbags along a flooded creek, placed there to save the lowlying village that was her life, her future.

  Then there was the remorse about her marriage to William, and hatred—yes, a raw word, but it seethed in her veins now—for Hans, and nothing better for her spindly cruel stepmother Annie, or her sister Lissie who was always favored.

  When she had put on her black apron and slipped her feet into the brown moccasins, her face was still not calm. Agitation played across her features, darkening her eyes and turning her mouth into a hard slash, as she thought of telling Noah that she had no plans to ever become any man’s wife again, if that was what he was after. She would be his friend, but nothing more. As far as those herbs, she guessed that was her business as well and none of his.

  Luckily, Bappie was out at Levi’s farm whitewashing and cleaning. Walter and Emma had taken Billy to visit aunts and uncles, so Noah’s grand entrance caused no fuss among Hester’s acquaintances.

  He stood beside the buggy as imposing as a general, his bearing almost regal. He was well over six feet tall and built like a workhorse, this Hester could not help but acknowledge. When he watched her walk toward him, he smiled, the kindness so like Kate’s that Hester felt the beginning of a lump in her throat, a breach in the dam of her resolve.

  Oh, Heavenly Father, stay with me. The prayer was like armor. She had to stay strong to resist this giant of a man who was not her brother at all. Not at all.

  “Good afternoon, Hester. I hope you are well.”

  She acknowledged his kindness with a curt nod and averted eyes, her mouth dry with the acceleration of her heart and her senses.

  Noah’s heart sank. So this was the way it would be today. He took her hand lightly, helping her into the buggy. He leaped in after her as the horse lunged. Noah grasped tightly at the black leather reins, hauling back while the horse reared, shaking his head and trying to rid himself of the unwanted restraint.

  Hester watched as the horse rose, up, up, his back long and black and powerful. She thought he would surely topple over backward, crushing them, but then he lunged forward, turned right, and came down running, hard. Dogs scattered and a child in a wagon watched them with awe as Noah struggled with the reins. The town required a lot of a driver, with other teams and pedestrians everywhere, and a horse that was clearly uncontrollable.

  Once they reached the open road, Noah let him run, slowly releasing the reins through his hands until the wind tore at Hester’s mus
lin cap and pried loose the black strands of hair she had so carefully combed with water and a fine-toothed comb.

  They did not speak. Noah knew this was not the time or the place to make small talk. The day seemed to be unraveling before him, his anticipation and hope of reintroducing Hester to her medicinal herbs darkened by her lowered brows, her mouth a thin line, her face a map of her stubborn mind.

  Today there was something else about her, an aura of rigidness in the way she shrank away from him, as if he was too big, too real, too loathsome. By the time they reached the Dan Stoltzfus farm, the black gelding was shining with sweat. There was no white lather, however, which meant Noah had been careful to wash him before throwing the harness on his back. That was good.

  Noah drew back on the reins, and the horse came to a standstill. Noah leaped down, tied the reins to the ring on the side, then came around to Hester’s side, extending his hand, his eyes searching her face. She barely touched his hand, landing lightly on her feet. She averted her eyes again, and stepped a dozen paces away, holding her hands stiffly by her sides.

  Noah unhitched the horse and rubbed him down, then turned him out with the rest of the horses in the green pasture that led to a line of thick trees.

  Hester turned to survey the new barn. She had been careful to avoid looking at it before, not wanting Noah to start an enthusiastic tour of it before she told him what was on her mind. It was the most magnificent building she had ever seen, including the stores and hotels in Berksville or Lancaster. Built into the side of a hill, the front of the barn was immense, as high as two houses built on top of one another. No, it was higher. The stonework was amazing, the grayish-brown stones cut to size, exquisite in their handiwork.

  Six heavy doors, with the longest black hinges she had ever seen, were built into this stone wall, rectangles of perfection.

  Above this first floor rose a sheer wall of boards, attached vertically to the massive oak beams with hand-hewn wooden pegs. The boards were still yellow, the new lumber retaining its original color before the elements, the sun and wind, the rain and snow, turned the boards a dark gray.

  Above the doors in the stone wall, on the next story, were five shorter doors that could be swung open at haymaking time. Intricate arches, the wood shaped into half-moons above these doors, made Hester wonder what builder would put that kind of workmanship on the second story of a barn. She felt Noah approach.

  She lifted her eyes to the third story, which was probably the fourth or fifth story on the other side of the barn, and saw windows on top of that, with half-moons of trim above them. The eaves from the roof were deep and wide, casting shadows on the window glass. Without thinking, she said, “What a wonderful barn!”

  When Noah said nothing, she turned sideways, afraid of what her blanket of silence had done. Perhaps she’d overdone it.

  She saw him lift his shoulders, then drop them.

  “About a year’s work.”

  “Who did it?”

  “Dan and I. You want to see the inside?”

  “Of course.”

  He led her through a side door and into a wide bay where harnesses hung on long pegs and water troughs lined the walls. The stables were so well-built and so clean that Hester was amazed.

  The interior of the barn was dark and cool, the air hazy and thick with smells of corn and oats, cured hay, and glistening yellow straw. The acrid undertone of manure was a sweetness to Hester. Her sharp pang of remembering felt almost physical as she recalled the barn in Berks County where she had learned to milk cows, clean stables and harnesses, sweep the walls of cobwebs, and bring baby lambs from the cold windblown pastures of early spring, when the air was still raw and unforgiving to the shivering little white bundles.

  She wanted to tell Noah this, but how could she, with the job she had chosen for today? She must not waver.

  Noah let her breathe in the smells and run her fingers over the water trough and the pegs that held the harnesses. She went to the stable doors, bending over them to talk to the piglets and calves. She found a baby colt, lying in the straw alone.

  “Why isn’t he with his mother in the pasture?” she asked.

  “Dan and Rachel went away today to her sister’s house. They have a frolic to build a springhouse.”

  Another memory was suddenly upon her—the springhouse Hans had built for Kate, the rocks dripping moisture, the water smelling like dew in the morning, the crocks of cheese and new butter, the lard and peppermint tea they stored there. She saw Kate’s pleasure like the sun through the storm clouds’ aftermath, her round face beaming with the inner light she always carried, magnified now, as she praised Hans.

  Hester turned to Noah. “I’m ready to go.”

  They left the barn with the memories that threatened her resolve and went back to the buggy, where Noah lifted out the basket of food Hester had prepared. He held the gate for her, and she walked through without meeting his gaze. Silently they walked across the pasture, her strides matching his, the basket between them.

  The sun was already well past noon, throwing their shadows into chubby caricatures of themselves behind them. They climbed a fence where the flat meadow turned downward into a much lower level. The thick border of trees was beyond this low pasture. The closer they came to the trees, the more spongy the ground became. A familiar smell, a woodsy, decaying odor rose from the low ground.

  It was not a swamp like the one Hester would wade in with water up to her knees, collecting skunk cabbage and bulrushes. She’d gather bits of mosses, too, that were good to pack around other plants, keeping them wet till she replanted them in Bappie’s garden.

  “You’ll have to walk behind me now, please. There’s a narrow trail here that leads into the woods.”

  Hester stepped back, letting Noah lead the way. She knew there were no plants growing in that dense forest. What was he thinking? But he’d said he wanted to show her something, so she would see what it was in spite of her mistrust.

  “Careful.” Noah held aside blackberry brambles, branches of wild roses and thistles, holly bushes, and nettles. They walked swiftly, their long strides covering the distance easily. The woods turned darker, the trees overhead a roof of leaves, shutting out the sun’s light. In shafts, light broke through, pinpoints of dust-filled light that created an otherworldly atmosphere. Rotting leaves, new growth, moldy logs, crumbling bark—the familiar smells of the forest rose and filled her senses with another form of remembering, the woods her only home after she left the Berks County farm.

  She swallowed and lowered her face as quick tears rose to the surface. Instantly, she bit her lip and kept her eyes on Noah’s back, refusing to give in to the scents, the dank, heady odors around her.

  Suddenly, without warning, even before she could sense the changing of the light, they broke out of the dense woods into a sun-dappled circular ring without a single tree in its midst.

  The grass was brilliantly green, the new grass the color of premature peas, the older grass like just-cooked broccoli, a beautiful deep green. Peppered among the glorious green, in a profusion of delicate color, grew small flowers in pink, soft dainty yellow, and white. Bluebells nodded over the smaller flowers. The most amazing thing was the fact that this profusion of beauty grew in a perfect ring.

  Hester’s hands came slowly to her mouth as her eyes widened. She leaned forward a bit, as if her spirit was being led to its home. She dared to breathe, but only softly, for fear this vision was only that, a mirage that would disappear.

  Noah watched her face from a polite distance, putting his hands firmly in his pockets. She walked swiftly then to her right, fell to her knees, her hands reaching out to touch but not to gather.

  There was an abundance of spearmint, lush and heavy, a growth of the wonderful tea unlike anything she had ever seen. Leeks, wood sorrel, lily of the valley, mullen, so many plants, all growing in abundance, a patch of nature’s gift to mankind, unspoiled, pristine.

  Murmuring, she got to her feet, only to ben
d back and exclaim softly, as she stroked the spikenard that some called petimoral. It was so good for the elderly who had aches and pains of the joints, and for anyone with unhealthy kidneys.

  Her thoughts went to the victims of nausea, how they would need fresh water and tea made of herbs. Without sufficient drinking water, the bladder and kidneys would ache.

  A hand went to her heart, a painful sorrow for the sick children pulsing there. When she had denied this and left them to the doctor’s care, she felt nothing. The sadness vanished, leaving her cold and dead inside.

  As she walked among the wondrous profusion of plants, Noah remained silent. He watched her bend to caress the healthy plants and followed the movement of her lips. He saw the inward battle. He knew how determined she could be, how impossible to persuade. And so he said nothing.

  The sun slanted through the trees, casting a rosy glow across the flower-gathered clearing, making it appear almost heavenly. Like a paradise on earth, in a way you could feel more than see.

  Finally Hester stood, her hands crossed at her chest. She took a deep, painful breath.

  Noah waited, observing her face.

  When she lifted her large eyes to his, they were like dark wells of torture, filled with the suffering of her inward struggle.

  He met her gaze with the only thing he was capable of, his long and undeclared love which he had carried within himself as long as he could remember. It was a flame, tended by the angels themselves, after he had accepted that it would never go away. It shone blue from the depth of eyes, so much like Kate’s, a love that was the strongest emotion, the most powerful force on earth. It broke barriers, crashed down defensive walls, a glorious Roman gladiator of the soul.

  The gaze held as their two spirits clashed, sword against sword. Hester panicked when she felt his power, the love in those blue eyes. Turning, she cried out, a soft, strangled cry of defeat, and took off running across the flower-filled clearing.

  It wasn’t that Noah even thought about a choice, he only knew he had to keep her. Lunging after her with a dozen quick strides, he caught her shoulders before she reached the thicket of trees.