Hester Takes Charge

by Byler, Linda;

  Hester watched Fannie, her cheeks pink, her large brown eyes alight with the joy of living, her dress stretched taut across her shoulders, which could not have been called thin any longer. Even her brown hair seemed to have thickened and taken on a luster. Her teeth had whitened from being vigorously brushed with bicarbonate of soda. With Barbara and Emma on either side, they resembled a trio of sisters, eager to live life with the carefree abandon of children.

  Only occasionally at night, Fannie would waken, crying softly to herself until Hester pulled her close. She’d smooth back the tendrils of hair moistened by her tears and let her cry for whatever reason. After Fannie felt Hester’s arms about her, she would become calm, a deep cleansing sigh would finish the tears, and she’d fall into a deep sleep.

  Who could tell the loneliness of this little person? In a sense, she had been an orphan in a family of thirteen children, her parents mere shadows that passed over her.

  And so wedding planning began in earnest.

  Annie was a superb manager, saying, “First things first.” The sewing would have to be taken care of immediately. They asked Magdalena to make the white shirts, as she was an accomplished shirt-maker. In the days following, they cut and sewed aprons, capes, dresses, and coverings in quick succession.

  The date of the wedding was set for the thirteenth of November, too late, in Annie’s opinion, but who had ever heard of getting ready for a wedding in less than a month? They even had to buy the chickens from Enos Yoders. She had never heard of not raising your own for a wedding. But there was a smile lurking in her eyes, Hester could tell.

  The acreage that Hans had given them was an undeserved gift, a glorious remembrance from an imperfect, tortured man, who had lived out a terrible penance, suffering because of his sins, but redeemed by the grace of Christ. He had given the land out of his love and as restitution.

  The land included acres of beautiful forest, lush and green in the summer, with brilliant foliage in the fall. Now, with winter’s beginning, the cold winds whipped the trees, leaving them etched against the sky and surrounded by a carpet of curling, brown leaves. Although the grasses were yellow and brown, they still held the promise of a new life ahead.

  Noah staked the house facing southeast, the way Hester wanted. The barn was to the left and set against a hill, which allowed access to the top floor. Wagons could also be pulled onto the barn floor by a team of horses to ease the unloading of hay and corn fodder.

  They would leave a few oak trees to provide shade in summer. The pastures would fall away below the barn where the incline was gentle. The cow stable would be on the underside of the barn. The stones that would be laid would provide sturdy walls to keep the animals warm in winter and cool in summer.

  They would rent the small house on the Henry Ebersole place for the first year, while Noah built the house and barn. With neighborhood frolics and the help of their brothers, they should be able to move within the year.

  Hester did not want a house made of stone. Noah planned on a stone house, but Hester had wonderful memories of the little log house with Kate, her mam, the babies, the fire on the hearth, and she wanted only that for the rest of her life.

  “A small house, Noah, for we will have only Fannie,” she said, a hint of sadness passing over her eyes.

  Noah had seen this and quickly gathered her in his arms, kissed the top of her head, and assured her that Fannie was all they would ever need. He was getting far more than he deserved by having the chance to be her husband, to care for her all the days of his life. If he never had children of his own, that was as the Lord wanted. Hester was a gift, and enough.

  She had remained in his strong arms, tears wetting the front of his shirt. How could she ever live up to this kind man’s expectations? She told him this, felt his chest rumble with laughter, and smiled through her tears when he told her she’d have plenty of opportunities to throw her shoes at him.

  As the days of preparation went by, their love grew more steadfast, more deeply rooted in the admiration they had for each other. Hester never failed to notice Noah’s many acts of selflessness, how he gave of himself, not just to her, but to everyone he met. Especially to Annie. He seemed to understand the wounds she hid away from them, her eagerness to maintain a stance of strength, when in reality it was only a mask, and an ill-fitting one at that. Often as the days went by, the mask slipped, giving them a glimpse of the Annie that was to come.

  The barn cats had always been a source of irritation to her. Woe to the cat that attempted to rub itself against her wicker laundry basket. Always, the cat was booted out of her way, sent into the air with a swift kick, and a firm “Katz!” If Annie had her way—except for the necessary extermination of rats and mice—no cat would have been on the farm.

  So now, when Hester rounded a corner of the house and found Annie at the washline, bent over tickling a startled cat’s chin before trailing a gnarled, shaking hand the length of its silky back, she stopped and reversed her steps soundlessly. She knew that if Annie was exposed, she’d resume her old ways and kick the unsuspecting cat for the benefit of her pride.

  There was also the Fannie surprise. Fannie had developed a firm hold on Annie’s affections. To see them together was a heartwarming vision. Fannie still hummed or sang softly, the way she always had, but now, Annie would join while they did dishes together. Annie’s rough, patchy baritone pitched in to join Fannie’s high angelic notes. Annie always stopped when Hester walked into the room. But it was all right. It was good to know that Annie cared for Fannie, took her under her wing, and kept her there.

  The matter of her shaking hands came to a head, like a sore and throbbing boil, one morning when the tea kettle fell out of her grip, splashing boiling water on the floor, across her skirt, and all over the stove, sending water sizzling onto the hot stones of the hearth. With all the gathers in her skirt and the added protection of a heavy apron, Annie was not scalded, only frightened into a lip-trembling silence.

  Hester had been folding wash, and with a shriek of fear came to her side, her eyes wide. “Annie! Are you all right?”

  Grimly, with her wet skirts held out and bent at the waist, Annie nodded.

  “You must do something, Annie. You will hurt yourself even worse as time goes on,” Hester pleaded. She handed her a towel, which Annie used vigorously, rubbing the wet spots on the front of her apron. She turned away to lift the long heavy skirt and check for burns, but said it was only enough to redden the skin.

  “What? What should I do?” Annie asked desperately. “The doctors all say the same thing. They call it palsy of the hands, and there is nothing to do for it.”

  Quietly Hester whispered, “There is something,”

  What passed between them could only be called painful, a humiliation that could be felt, a nearly physical force.

  Who could forget the agony of the past? Forgiveness was one thing—over and done with. But to forget completely was another. In a flash, they each relived the roaring sound of Annie’s hatred as she refused Hester’s remedy for palsy, forbade her from making any more tinctures, and nearly succeeded in burning the book of remedies above open flames, the precious book containing all the knowledge of her ancestors. Had Hester not torn it from her hands, Annie would have destroyed the priceless gift Hester had been entrusted with. The whole scene sat between them, thick and cloying, threatening to choke the life out of the flower of their forgiveness.

  Annie lowered her eyes and turned her head away.

  Hester felt the sting of remembering.

  Silence hung between them, dense with unspoken words that were too loaded with danger to be uttered. Hester almost turned away and left the room, leaving Annie to the demons of her past. That one incident had been the most cruel, and now to open that old sore and review it again in the light of day was almost more than Hester could do. She was afraid to try, but she was just as frightened to forsake Annie now.

  Hester went to Annie and got down on her knees by her side as she sat
slumped in a kitchen chair. She reached out, took her hands, and held them softly. She could feel the tremors.

  Annie did not pull away.

  “Let me try,” she said simply.

  Annie kept her face averted. Her throat worked as she swallowed. Hester kept her peace, watching Annie’s face. When the glimmer of a tear appeared on her lower lash and hung there, trembling, before slipping down her papery cheek, Hester still did not speak.

  Finally, Annie said, “Don’t make me remember this.”

  “We won’t. We will not remember together.”

  “What will you do?

  “First of all, since it is November, I suppose we’ll have to pay Theodore and Lissie Crane a visit. Does she still have her store of herbal plants?”

  Annie nodded.

  “Then come with me.”

  “Now?”

  “Now. The work will wait.”

  “I’m too ashamed. Lissie Crane knows what I tried to do.”

  “Lissie will be too happy to see us. I have not had the reunion with them that I wanted. I could only barely acknowledge them at the funeral. They are so old.”

  Annie turned. Unexpectedly, a smile lit up her face. “Not old, if you listen to Lissie.”

  Hester laughed outright, imagining the hefty Lissie moving about her house like a ship in full sail. “Does she still glide like that? Sort of float along on her tiny feet?”

  “Oh, yes. She gets around.”

  “Then let’s go see her.”

  They bundled into their heavy black shawls and bonnets, hitched up the trusty brown driving horse, and rode through the blustery November winds. The road wound in and out of the forest, past Sam Ebersole’s and Crist Fisher’s, the scenery so familiar, so dear, so recognized, Hester mused.

  This was home. These rolling hills and cleared acres. These skies that were blue, scudding with gray and white clouds, like layers of freshly shorn sheep’s wool. The air was pure and unhurried, the farms familiar, the new dwellings signs of prosperity. The very air carried an aura of acceptance, the hills and trees receiving her, protecting her, bringing a sensation she knew meant belonging. This was where she was meant to be.

  She was home. Home in Berks County, close to the grave where Kate lay, and soon to be married to her son, the incarnation of Kate herself. Hester had been raised in kindness, with the gentleness and good grace of Kate’s heart, cared for by her soft hands.

  Theodore opened the door, his long, thin face wreathed with delight. Lissie lumbered across the floor behind him, her hands extended. Hester laughed, then cried a little, finally sitting at their small table with Annie beside her. She marveled at the vast person Lissie had become. Marriage must have given her a good appetite, as she was quite a bit larger than Hester remembered. Theodore wasn’t thin either. A good portion of his stomach overlapped his broadfall trousers.

  Hester and Annie could not get a word in at all. Lissie’s face became an alarming shade of red as she talked, moving from stove to table, bringing hot cups of tea “to warm them,” she said, along with a whole pumpkin pie, plates, forks, tumblers of ice-cold water, soft cup cheese, and slices of bread.

  “Schmear Kase! Frisha schmear Kase,” she yelled in a stentorian voice, punctuated by Theodore’s vigorous nodding and repeating, “Frish, frish.”

  Annie’s hands shook so badly that her teacup clattered against the saucer, almost upsetting it. Quickly, both hands went to her lap.

  “So, a wedding, I hear. A hochzeit! Ach, du lieber. You and Noah? Who would have thought it, years ago? You and Noah and Isaac all running around, with Lissie trailing on behind like an unwanted pup.”

  Hester nodded, smiling, and helped herself to a slice of bread and fresh cup cheese, that soft, pungent, spreadable cheese made from squeaky milk curds.

  Theodore told them of his life with Lissie, the years going by so fast. He worked at tutoring the hard learners while Lissie kept the house clean and warm and put food on the table. He reported experiencing contentment and happiness he had never thought possible. His story was heartwarming, but out of respect for Annie and her disappointments, Hester switched subjects as soon as possible, asking if Lissie had sage and mustard seed on hand, which led to Lissie lumbering off to her storeroom and returning with two tin canisters.

  “Now you have to be careful with the sage. You don’t want too much. It can give you a bilious stomach. Lots of gas and cramping.”

  “No, I won’t need it to be taken as a medicine.”

  “Oh?” Lissie lifted her eyebrows, a pained expression along with them; her curiosity made her miserable. Hester gave nothing away. She knew keenly Annie’s pride and her reluctance to admit her one weakness, no matter how laughably obvious it was.

  She paid Lissie for both herbs, and they were on their way home as soon as they could untangle themselves from the web of Lissie’s talk. It never stopped, following them out onto the porch, down the walkway, and into the buggy. She was still calling out words they couldn’t hear after the horse pulled the buggy away from the hitching rack.

  Hester shook her head, laughing. Annie smiled and said, “That would be awful to have all those unnecessary words tumbling about in your head.”

  But they both loved Lissie, so they said nothing further about her.

  At home, Hester boiled the sage and mustard seed into a decoction, the smell of it permeating the entire house. Annie busied herself with the sewing, keeping her eyes averted and saying nothing. When the mixture had cooled sufficiently, Hester asked Annie to place her hands in the liquid while it was as hot as she could possibly stand it. She said the words quietly, forming a question more than a command, knowing how very hard this was for Annie.

  She said nothing. She just sat at the table with the shallow basin of hot water and placed both hands into it, her face expressionless. The steam from the decoction alarmed Hester, who watched for any sign of discomfort, but there was none, not even a mere knitting of her brows or a flinch.

  They repeated this quite often during the day, always being careful to avoid being seen by Noah or the children, for on that first day, Annie’s furtive glances gave away her wish for privacy. But over the next few days, after mentioning what they were doing to the rest of the family, Annie felt comfortable enough to remain seated, no matter who walked into the house.

  The children wrinkled their noses at the smell but said nothing much about it. Noah knew how much the effort meant to Hester and praised her deftness, saying that if she could accomplish a healing for Annie, imagine where this might lead! Perhaps that was why she had never borne children, that God had other plans for her with this gift of healing.

  Annie was discouraged on the third day when she dropped half the pumpkin pie, and the custard slopped down the side of the table. Hester thought she might not be willing to continue further treatment, but Annie said she’d keep going till after the wedding.

  As time went on, Hester developed a deeper respect for Annie’s tenacity and her ability to keep trying in the face of doubt.

  She also knew what this cost Annie—her pride, her painful memory, her admission of wrongdoing. It was a huge order for someone who had been as injured as she had been.

  Meanwhile, the wedding preparation work continued—the cleaning and whitewashing, the raking and window-washing. Even the barn windows were rubbed to a gleaming luster, the furniture waxed and polished.

  The baking took days—the loaves of bread, trays of cookies, cakes made with walnuts and molasses, ginger cakes, and white cakes decorated with icing and dried cranberries.

  Through all the days of preparation, a sense of happiness stayed with Hester. She wore her sense of belonging like a rose-colored dress, confident in the way she went about her tasks, addressing every person with love.

  CHAPTER 25

  ON THE DAY OF THE WEDDING, THE FROST LAY THICK AND silver in the low places. A cold stillness settled over the surrounding landscape, the promise of an early snow in the air.

  The sun me
lted away the frost on higher ground as the black buggies with brown horses hitched to them made their way to the Hans Zug farm. Excitement was in the air, everyone bathed and scrubbed and wearing their Sunday best, even if it was not the usual big event.

  This wedding was not a full-sized, 200-guest wedding, customary for youthful couples. This was a widow marrying an older man, so there was no bridal party, no one to sit beside Noah and Hester.

  Hester did not wear the customary white cape and apron, but black ones, signifying the fact that she had been married before. The blue dress she wore was a beautiful, tightly woven fabric, costing far above anything she had thought reasonable, but Noah insisted. It reminded him of the blue she wore when he met her and Bappie in the garden that day.

  She had been a dream for him, belonging to his imagination and memory. But when she stood there, he knew his memory of her paled in comparison to the deep, black depth of her eyes, the deep, brown, toffee color of her skin, the blue sky matching the deeper blue of her dress.

  If he lived to be a hundred, he would never be worthy of her, he said. Her beauty radiated from within. She was as sweet and unspoiled inside as she was beautiful on the outside.

  Hester sat quietly and believed him, for that was how she felt about him. She would never tire of watching him move—the powerful swing of his shoulders, the height and breadth of him. Never had she imagined that the plane of someone’s nose could thrill her. The way he talked, always with a half-smile of kindness and a chuckle at the end of so many of his words, belying a nature that was good.

  Yes, they believed in love. In a love that could endure arguments and irritations, that was greater than trials and troubles. They had both come through so much and been blessed richly. Their forgiveness of each other was made sweeter as time went on. Now on this day, the love that was hampered in the past was given freedom to flow, a tumbling, rolling brook of purest water.