“Then, Hans’s strength began to fail. Last July he began losing weight. The doctors tried everything. Bloodletting. Laudanum. All to no avail. He asked about you often, wondering if there was no word as to your whereabouts. These questions were always a dagger to my feelings, robbing me of the tiny smidgen of love I could glean from my husband.
“As he weakened, he became kind. He wanted me by his side. He often held my hand, caressing the back of it with his thumb as he spoke words of praise to me. He thanked me often for being a mother to his children, for being the good worker that I was. It filled my empty heart, this outpouring of his love, for that is what it was, a cup of sweet ambrosia to my scalded self.”
Annie became quiet, her fluttering fingers placed in her lap. Once there was a derisive sound of laughter, a mocking note forged with the always present anger.
Suddenly she held up her hands like freckled claws, thin and bony, calloused by the hard labor that had always been her lot, the days of her life spent performing the menial tasks that kept the wheel of farm life smoothly oiled. “They look like the hands of a man.”
Tentatively, her fingers went to her mouth.
“My thin, homely face has never been kissed, never.” She shrugged, straightened her shoulders, and remarked, “It doesn’t matter. It won’t hurt me. Never did, never will.”
Hester sat in her chair dumbfounded, stunned. In all her life, she had never seen such an example of lonely courage. How could she have known this hateful, cruel woman’s deep well of unfulfilled love?
Hester stood, hesitated, then bent slowly to the thin, freckled face. Just before her lips touched the dry, papery skin, she whispered, “Now you have been kissed.”
She folded the thin form gently against her breast, one hand stroking the cheek on the opposite side. “Annie, you have been in my life for a purpose. If I would not have left, I would never have met all the people I did, wouldn’t have married William or been through so much of what God has given me.”
When Annie’s thin shoulders began to shake, warm, wet tears coursing down on her fingers, Hester’s sob caught in her own throat. Oh, the pity of it.
Annie cried quietly. Then whispered, “Ich vill au halta fa fagebniss.”
Hester’s throat was so constricted she could not speak for a moment, so she gathered Annie into another warm embrace and said softly, “I do forgive you, Annie. I do. I mean it with all my heart.”
“Denke.”
The sun shone into the kitchen just as it always had. But now the walls, the floor, the oak table, everything seemed warmed by the presence of angels hovering just out of sight, hosts to the king of forgiveness, the one who gave his life for all of humankind’s ills and iniquities. These angels sang the same chorus they always sing when there is redemption and forgiveness. On this day, two women, one so beautiful, the other so unattractive, both designed and created by God, and loved with the same love sent down through the ages, forgave each other.
Again, Annie said, “Denke, Hester.”
Words were meaningless, unnecessary, with the aura of God’s presence so near.
The comfortable silence was broken when Annie asked if there was anything between her and Noah. Hester blushed a deep, charming shade of red. She nodded.
“I thought there might be. Has he asked you yet?”
Hester nodded again.
Annie placed a hand on Hester’s knee. “Could we have the wedding here?”
“Oh, Annie,” Hester sighed, “That would be a dream come true. I would never be worthy. It would be wonderful, but you know, we have to wait till Noah sets a time.”
“Yes, that is true. And we have to see how many days God will allow Hans to be with us.”
As it was, Hans slipped away faster after finding peace in Hester’s forgiveness. He shook his head, refusing food or water on the second day after their arrival. Often his weak, quavery voice could be heard breaking into an old German hymn, the words barely audible, the frail humming a continued version of the song in his heart.
It rained on the fourth day, a Saturday, a warm summer rain without thunder or lightning. A bank of clouds from the east had been ushered in by strong afternoon winds the day before. Hester woke to the sound of steady rain on the shake shingles, accompanied by a constant drip from the eaves. Low clouds scudded across the sky. Moisture in the form of warm raindrops replenished the good brown soil.
Noah said a rain like this so late in the summer was priceless. Menno looked up from his plate of fried eggs and toast and asked what that word meant.
“Without price. Worth a lot,” Noah answered, taking a long drink from his teacup.
When Menno said he’d have a hard time bottling the stuff if he wanted to sell it, Noah choked on his tea, spluttered, and coughed, and carried on until Annie smiled along with everyone’s laughter.
Till late afternoon, the rain was still coming down steadily, water splashing from the roof and ripping across the yard. Two white ducks waddled through the grass by the front porch, quacking happily, the short white feathers on their tails wagging with energy, their flat webbed feet slopping along from side to side.
Hester was shucking corn on the front porch, her strong brown hands ripping off the outer husks in two deft twists before breaking off the short stalk and chucking all of it in a reed basket. Her fingers brushed the silk absently, her mind wandering across the unbelievable events of the week.
She whispered a short prayer for wisdom and understanding, asking that she never judge anyone harshly, especially without knowing their upbringing. She looked up when Annie called her name softly.
“Hans is calling for Lissie and Solomon. You had best find Noah.” Hester got up, brushing the corn silk from her apron, a question in her eyes. “Is he worse?”
Annie’s lips quivered, but she only nodded.
Hester splashed through the rain down to the barn, the barn of her childhood, now enlarged with two different wings. The original cow stable and a small barnyard fence had been taken away and replaced by a larger stable. She found Noah brushing the workhorses, oiled harnesses on a heap beside him.
“Annie says Hans is calling for the children,” she said quietly.
Lissie’s arrival raised quite a stir, her being as noisy and opinionated as ever. Hester would not have recognized the round young woman had it not been for her strident voice and the take-charge way with which she burst into the house, followed by a passel of toddlers and little children.
Her husband, Elam, entered later, a beanpole of a man with a quiet, good nature, a patient man, happy to let his effusive wife be the center of everyone’s attention.
Soloman and Lena arrived soon afterward, followed by Daniel and his new wife, a blond, trim beauty, with eyes so blue Hester found herself staring.
They all gathered by the bedside of their father who was slipping into eternity, drawn by the bands that tie us to the Heavenly Father, whose final call of death is feared by all mortals, but is sweet rest for those weary of life and suffering.
And Hans was weary. His dry, parched lips moved as he asked for Annie who sat by his side, his hand in both of hers. “Mam?” he whispered.
She bent low.
“I love you.”
She nodded, pursing her lips in the old way to keep emotion in check.
“Noah?”
Quickly Noah went to his father.
“Ich segne dihr.”
“Thank you for the blessing, Dat.” Noah spoke thickly, as if he had to push the words past an obstruction.
Hans’s breathing was so soft, so faint, that it was hard to tell if he was still with them. When he seemed to gather strength, his breathing becoming stronger, he raised one hand partway, only to let it fall. He sighed deeply and never breathed again.
Each member of the family mourned in their own way—with quiet reverence, a few audible sobs, and tears coursing down grieving faces. They placed his hands on his chest, closed his eyes and his mouth, then left Annie at his side as the
y filed into the large room to make plans for his funeral service, the burial, and whatever else needed to be attended to.
Neighbors, church members, and all other available members of the family showed up within a few hours. Some cleaned; many brought food, preparing for the days of mourning and burial. The women wore black shortgowns, capes, and aprons. They took over the kitchen, making meals for the family in mourning. Kindness and sympathy flowed freely through soft handshakes and shoulders gripped in empathy, all of it a wonderful way of uniting each person in the bonds of love.
When the rain stopped, the air felt fresh and new. Sunlight speckled the buggies, drawn by all the different horses as they trotted obediently in the funeral procession, driving through the woods to the fenced-in graveyard on the hill.
There, Hans was laid to rest beside Kate and little Rebecca in the soft moist soil of Berks County. The large group of family and friends was dressed all in black, their heads bent, softly weeping as the minister read the lied. When the prayer was said, the men held their wide-brimmed hats in their hands, their uncovered heads bent in reverence.
Later, after the graveside service, Noah stood with Hester, their heads bowed as silent tears flowed down their cheeks, at Kate’s grave, the small, plain headstone of Catherine Zug, their dearly beloved mother. In blood for one; in spirit for the other. It was a moment Hester would cherish forever, this unspoken bond birthed by the single most loving person she and Noah had ever known. Her memory and the goodness of her spirit had helped Hester through countless times in her life when despair had threatened to sink her.
The rolling green hills of Berks County were still the same—gentle and lovely, a vibrant green refreshed by the rain. This was the place they had spent time together as children, dotted with homes and farms of the Amish. The forest continued to be tamed into submission, giving way to fields and roads, which crisscrossed the ridges and swamps. Here in this land of Pennsylvania with Noah by her side, Hester’s life contained a sense of new promise, the possibility of a life fulfilled, until death would part them.
CHAPTER 24
IN EARLY NOVEMBER OF THAT YEAR, THE LEAVES WERE ALMOST all blown off their trees by the autumn blast that accompanied the changing temperatures. A few hardy brown ones still clung to the bare branches of the white oak trees. But most of the yellow, orange, and red of the brilliant fall foliage lay on the floor of the forest, curling and turning brown, compost for the thick bark to thrive on for yet another winter.
Chipmunks scurried frantically, gathering seeds and nuts. Their larger counterparts, the gray squirrels, chirred at them from their perches high in the branches. Raucous crows teetered on boughs too thin for their claws, their beaks open and giving vent to their haunting cries. Red-headed woodpeckers tapped busily at the bark of trees, their tongue slivers darting to catch the grubs and insects inside.
The bashful fawns still trailed along with their larger mothers, coming to the edge of the fields at twilight, their large sensitive ears held forward to catch every available sound.
Along the border of such a field two figures strolled hand in hand, the muslin cap on the woman’s head in stark relief against the surrounding trees. The man wore a yellow straw hat, his white shirt front visible between the black coat front on either side. The woman’s shawl was pinned securely, its corners waving in the evening breeze.
Noah stopped, held both arms out pointing east and west, his eyebrows raised as he asked Hester what she thought of having the house built facing south, with the forest hill to the north behind it. Hester asked how she would ever see a sunrise if they did that. Why not face the east?
“And catch all the rain and snows?” Noah countered.
“What about a porch?” Hester proposed.
And so they bantered, planned, and dreamed, until Noah caught her up in his arms and told her he was marrying one of the bossiest women he knew, and Hester kissed him solidly to hush him up.
Hester felt a new freedom these days. She had been released from the troubling past, a blessing that was like the mighty flow of a waterfall, as unstoppable and as inspiring. With forgiveness came closure, bringing days of bright energy, a new spring to her step, a sense of purpose and fulfillment.
They had settled temporarily into the large stone house with Fannie, who had become fast friends with Barbara. They roamed the hills and fields of the Zug farm, trained the stubborn ponies, played church with the barn cats, and walked to school with Emma. It was as if little, deprived Fannie had never known another life. She bloomed like a wan flower, the sunshine and rain of the whole family’s love allowing her to grow in ways no one had thought possible.
She even asked for a slice of cake, another molasses cookie, or a second cup of buttermilk, please. Every day brought a wealth of discovery as she saw the world around her through her friend Barbara’s eyes.
Hester and Noah made a quick trip back to Lancaster to attend the wedding of Levi Buehler and Barbara King, a solemn affair that was held at the Buehler farm. The place had been painted, raked, cleaned, and trimmed until it was no longer recognizable. The hounds were now housed in their designated area, the chickens were cooped in their own yard, and there was the beginning of a profitable sheep industry. A flock dotted the green hillsides like balls of cotton.
Hester sat demurely, her head bent, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks, the twinkle in her eye completely controlled as the minister asked Barbara the usual wedding vows in German, and she answered in a less than humble—actually quite strident—“Ya.”
After the service and seated at the wedding table, the place of her dreams, Bappie radiated an inner loveliness. Everyone agreed they had never thought of her as attractive, but that purple dress with her red hair gave her quite a shine, didn’t it? Bappie and Levi ate their roasht, mashed potatoes, and the cooked slaw hungrily, enjoying every morsel of the wedding dinner.
Bappie opened her gifts, becoming quite boisterous when she received a set of green dishes from her Aunt Barbara, a namesake gift that far surpassed anything she had ever owned.
When she finally had a few moments with Hester, she gripped her hands and told her meaningfully that this was, without a doubt, the best day of her life, and did she see Levi’s new hat? Whereupon, she opened her mouth and laughed in a most raucous manner. Hester joined in, thankful that Bappie had not changed at all.
While in Lancaster, Noah and Hester visited Walter and Emma Trout and Billy, who had arrived home a few weeks before. They left for Berks County that afternoon, full of hopes and plans for their own wedding.
Annie stood at the door of the stone farmhouse, shading her eyes from the glare of the evening sun, watching the advance of the two matched horses pulling the carriage behind them. The expression in her eyes was unfathomable. The Annie of old had changed in subtle ways, not yet noticed by anyone except the couple who was now approaching. A strange thrill, a sort of renewal, surged through her body.
Here was this couple, her children, brother and sister, and she was their mother. Anticipation beat happily in her breast as she looked forward to the responsibility of making a wedding for them as she had done for Lissie.
Hadn’t that been a time of battles lost and won, though? Lissie is so powerful in words with a will of iron, and she is the same. Shameful. Absolutely shameful the way it went. But that was long before the time Annie had spent with Hester, telling her of the dark past. Embarrassing the way she had told her so much.
Annie shrugged her shoulders, lowered her hand, and went to meet Noah and Hester, an unaccustomed gladness welling in her heart. As she neared the buggy, she hesitated. Would it be the same? Would they have discussed her and decided that none of that scene in the kitchen meant anything?
So she stood, her hands held loosely at her side, her back stiff and unbending. She had put on her usual scowl and wore it firmly, the armor that protected anything soft or insecure within.
But here was Hester now, her arms wide as she walked towards her, a gladness softening t
he black depths of her large eyes. Annie surrendered to the embrace, then stepped back with a soft, wobbly smile and examined Hester’s eyes to make sure this was real and not some false follow-up to make her feel all right. For Annie was now a fledgling, a baby sparrow dependent on the food of love that Hester and Noah would continue to bring her. On her own, the old wounds and the anger that made them bearable would return, leaving her to starve, unable to grow.
Such a long and painful past could not be erased in one day. But with each day of their presence, and unknown to Noah or Hester, Annie received the bits of sustenance she needed. Mostly it was little things. Acts of unselfishness and kindness. Annie had never known kindness to have such an impact on her days.
Hester had brought a wrapped parcel, the brown paper tied securely with string. She handed it to her with a smile, her soft eyes shining.
Annie’s hands began to shake, in spite of clenching her teeth, as she went to the cupboard for a scissors. Self-conscious now, she shook more until she dropped the scissors, which clattered loudly to the floor. “Ach,” she said, impatient.
“I’ll open it if it’s all right,” Hester said.
When the string was undone and the brown wrapping paper fell away, she saw four yards of beautiful blue fabric for a new Sunday dress.
“Why would you waste your money on an old ugly lady?” Annie croaked, emotion like sandpaper in her throat.
“Oh, Annie, it’s the color of my wedding dress! You are the mother of the bride, so you and I will wear the same fabric.”
“Ach.” Annie held her mouth in a straight line, blinked furiously, and looked at Noah to avoid Hester’s eyes. Then not knowing what else to say to hide her wellspring of pleasure, she scolded, “It’s unnecessary. Too much money spent.’’
“Not for the mother of the bride, Annie … Mam,” Noah said softly.
For Fannie, Barbara, and Emma, there was another large piece of blue fabric, along with yardage of black for their aprons. Peppermint candies were hidden in the folds, which created shrieks of excitement, a wild elation as the three girls scrambled onto the kitchen floor to retrieve them.
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