by Marta Perry
Rebecca nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it. Why don’t we make a list of possible activities people can do around the farm? That way we can give folks some choices.”
“Sounds good.” He grinned. “I’d guess there might be some things we have to be careful about, too. I wouldn’t want any Englischer getting too close to Daad’s bad-tempered sow.”
“That’s so.” It was yet another thing to worry about, it seemed to her. If someone got hurt, would she be responsible?
Simon bent to pick up the laundry basket, the movement hiding his face as he spoke. “Josh was telling me about building a birdhouse. He’s sure a family of wrens is going to move in any day now.”
She shot a look at him, stiffening. “He’s crazy about that birdhouse. He checks it a dozen times every day to see if birds are nesting in it yet.”
“He said Matt Byler helped him build it.” It sounded like a simple statement of fact, but she feared it was leading up to yet another lecture.
“Matt has been very kind.” She hoped the firmness of her tone would warn him not to repeat any more rumors about Matt.
“I know you think it’s none of my business, Beck. But you can’t blame me for worrying, can you?”
“I don’t blame you for caring about me. But you have no reason to worry.” She kept her voice firm but even. She would not let him upset her again.
Simon gave her a pleading look. “Nobody knows what Matt was doing all those years he was gone. I just want you to be careful, so you don’t get hurt.”
Exasperation flooded through her. What did Simon imagine? That she was going to lose her common sense over a charming smile?
“Simon, listen to me.” She touched his cheek to make him look at her. Her heart softened at his expression. Poor Simon. He just wanted to keep her safe. “No one can replace Paul in my heart. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “But—”
“There’s no but about it. All I want to do is carry out Paul’s dreams. Renting the stable to Matt will help me do it. The fact that he’s been kind to the kinder is a plus, but it doesn’t change anything. That’s all Matt means to me.” She patted Simon’s cheek. “That’s all he can ever mean.”
• • •
Matt felt the lift to his spirits that he always experienced when he turned into the gravel drive that led to his new workshop. He had to smile at his own feelings. The building wasn’t a stable to him any longer, no matter how it looked. It was a workshop—his workshop—the place where he fulfilled his dreams.
The fact that he was already glancing beyond the building to the farmhouse where he often saw Rebecca had nothing to do with his feelings. This lightness of heart was caused by the opportunity to spend time working at what he loved, that was all.
Once the mare was settled comfortably, he swung open the double doors that had been meant to allow room for farming equipment to pass in and out. The more natural light he had to work by, the better.
Matt moved inside and stopped, frowning. The shaft of daylight from the doors illuminated the inside, all right. It also showed him that something was wrong. Someone had been in his work space.
He hadn’t left his tools out of their box. Everything had been properly put away the last time he’d used them, a habit that was second nature to him. Now the tools were scattered across the workbench, with some even on the floor.
Stepping around them as carefully as a cat in a strange room, Matt let the indisputable reality sink in. Someone had been in the workshop while he was out. Moreover, it was someone who hadn’t minded leaving the evidence of his trespassing scattered about.
The rocking chair Matt had nearly finished lay on its side. He knelt beside it, holding his breath. But the chair was all right—tipped over, but otherwise unharmed.
Well. This could turn into a problem bigger than an overturned jar of screws. If Rebecca’s kinder had been in here while he was gone—
He pictured Josh’s face in his mind. The boy had been so excited about his birdhouse, and he’d seemed genuinely grateful to Matt for helping him. Surely he wouldn’t come in and make a mess in Matt’s workshop.
Still, a child might not consider this a mess. It was possible that Joshua had slipped out here while his mother was occupied with something else. Maybe he’d hoped to make another birdhouse, or had intended to show Katie how to do it. Matt’s blood chilled at the thought of Joshua using his tools without supervision. Maybe he hadn’t been doing such a good deed after all in working with the boy.
Whatever the answer, Matt had no choice but to talk with Rebecca about it. He couldn’t run the risk of a child being hurt because his tools were here.
Quickly, before he could find an excuse not to do what had to be done, he walked out of the workshop and headed for the house.
Rebecca was often out in the yard at this time of day, but not this afternoon. As he neared the kitchen windows he had a brief glimpse of her moving about inside. It would be best if he could talk with her privately, without the children listening in.
But when he reached the kitchen door, he saw that was unlikely. Both Katie and Josh were in the kitchen, busy setting the table for supper.
Matt tapped on the screen door. Rebecca turned from the stove, smiling when she saw him.
“Matt. I didn’t hear you. Come in.”
He stepped inside, trying to form the words to tell her what had happened without putting too much emphasis on it. He didn’t want to add to her burdens, but he certain-sure couldn’t risk one of her kinder getting hurt.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked when he didn’t speak. She seemed to realize she had a potholder in her hand and tossed it onto the counter.
“When I went into the workshop just now, I found . . .” He hesitated, feeling Joshua’s gaze fixed on him—innocently, he thought. But it had to be done.
“Someone had been in there while I was gone. Someone who left a bit of a mess. I thought I’d better come and talk to you about it.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened, and he had the sense that she was bracing herself to take on yet another challenge. She turned to look at her son.
Joshua stared back, just as surprised. “But that’s mean. Who would mess up Matt’s workshop?”
“It is mean, that’s certain-sure.” Rebecca took a step toward the boy, her serious gaze intent on his face. “Did you go into Matt’s workshop when he wasn’t there, Josh?”
The boy’s small face paled. “Me? I wouldn’t do that, Mammi. Honest.”
“Maybe you wanted to try and make something yourself,” Matt suggested.
“No. I wouldn’t.” Tears filled Josh’s eyes. “I would never touch your tools unless you said it was all right.”
“Joshua—” Rebecca began.
“It wasn’t him.” Katie almost shouted the words, and she slammed the spoons she held down onto the table. “It was me. I did it.”
Rebecca swiveled to stare at her daughter. “Katie? But why? Why would you do something like that?” She pressed her hands together as if in a prayer.
For a moment it seemed Katie wouldn’t answer. Then the words spilled out of her. “The stable is Daadi’s. He made it for his horses. Nobody else should be in there.” She swung toward her brother. “You shouldn’t make things with him.” She shot an angry glance toward Matt. “That’s not the way it’s supposed to be.”
The naked pain on Rebecca’s face as she went to her daughter pierced Matt’s heart. He felt an instant revulsion at his part in this trauma. He never should have gotten involved with Rebecca. He always ended up hurting people, no matter what he did.
Rebecca sank down on a chair. She grasped Katie’s hands and drew the child close. Katie was rigid, resisting, her clenched fists pressing against her white apron.
“Listen to me, Katie.” Rebecca’s voice was soft, and he thought she struggled to ho
ld back her tears. “I feel just like you do sometimes. I think that it isn’t right that Daadi’s gone. That we should keep everything the way it was when he was alive. But it’s no use. We can’t. We have to be strong and brave, like Daadi was. We have to get along without him, and that means we have to change.”
“No. I won’t. I don’t want to.” Katie’s lips trembled.
“I’m so sorry, my sweet girl, but you have to. We all have to.”
“No,” Katie said again, but this time the anger was swept away by grief. Her voice broke, and tears spilled onto her cheeks.
“My sweet girl . . .” Rebecca said again, and she pulled her daughter close.
For just an instant, Katie leaned against Rebecca. Then she jerked away, still crying, and ran out of the kitchen. They could hear her feet pounding on the stairs.
Rebecca looked after her daughter, her expression bereft.
“I’m sorry.” He muttered the words. “I shouldn’t have—” He stopped at a gesture from Rebecca.
“It’s all right. Really. You did what you had to do. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She stood, resting her hand on Joshua’s shoulder as if in wordless reassurance. “Katie doesn’t cry. She hasn’t, not since . . .” She stopped, shook her head. “Maybe it’s for the best for her to let her feelings out.”
“Maybe.” Her words didn’t assuage his guilt. “But I wish I hadn’t been the one to bring it on.”
“It’s not your fault, Matt. You must let me pay for the damages.”
“Nothing is broken. It’s nothing I can’t clean up. Anyway, it’s as much my responsibility. I should have put a lock on the door when I moved my things in.”
“You shouldn’t have to clean it up,” she began.
“I’ll do it.” Joshua stood very straight. “Let me help.” He looked at Matt. “Can I?”
Matt glanced at Rebecca and caught a slight nod. “Okay. Denke.”
Joshua hurried to the door. Rebecca managed a small smile. “He wants to make up for what Katie did. Thank you for letting him.”
Matt nodded. There was nothing else to say, and nothing else he could do about the situation, either. He’d wanted to make things easier for Rebecca. Somehow it seemed he’d managed to make them worse.
Lancaster County, December 7, 1941
Anna took the coffeepot and began to refill cups. Only the adults remained at the table at the end of their Sunday night supper, and experience told her that Daad and Onkel Tobias would linger talking long after they’d finished their coffee and apple crumb pie.
She exchanged a quick, secret smile with Jacob as she poured coffee into his cup. Mamm had invited Jacob to supper tonight, since Onkel Tobias and Aunt Hilda were visiting and the young people weren’t having a singing. Even though Rebecca wasn’t alone with Jacob, it still made her happy to see him sitting there at the long table where she’d had countless meals. He seemed very much part of the family, seated next to Seth and listening respectfully to what Daad was saying.
Anna darted a glance at her brother. Seth’s black eye had faded to a dull purple. He’d told Daad part of the truth, admitting he’d climbed out of his window but saying he’d fallen on the way to the ground.
Did Daad believe his tale? She wasn’t sure. He’d seemed to accept it, but he might still guess there was more going on than Seth had admitted. She could only be thankful that Daad hadn’t asked her any questions. She’d never been any good at fooling him.
Finishing her round with the coffeepot, Anna slid into her seat across the table from Jacob and Seth. Seeming subdued, as he had been for the past few days, Seth concentrated on his pie, not raising his eyes.
Anna hoped that meant he was ashamed. He ought to be, to say nothing of being wary. Daad might not be so accepting a second time. It would be far better, in her opinion, if Seth stayed away from his Englisch friends for a time, at least.
Not forever. She knew better than to expect that from him. But he ought to steer clear until all this war talk died down and things got back to normal.
The loud, abrupt knocking at the back door must have startled everyone. Anna rose, but Daadi waved her back to her seat and went to answer the door himself.
Ezekiel Wagner, their closest Amish neighbor, nearly stumbled in his rush to get inside. He grabbed Daad’s arm, his face pale and his eyes wide with what seemed to be shock. Anna’s breath caught. His family—someone hurt?
“Zeke, was ist letz? Is it Mary, or one of the kinder?” Daad put a hand on his shoulder.
“Nothing like that.” Zeke took a gasping breath. “I just heard . . . one of the O’Brien boys came over to tell us. They heard the news on their radio.”
The O’Brien family lived in a small house just beyond the crossroads—all ten of them. Folks used to laugh and say the O’Briens had near as many kids as the Amish.
“What news?” Daad looked as if he were infected by Zeke’s panic. “What has happened?”
Zeke shook his head. “It’s terrible. The Japanese—they attacked the American navy base out in Hawaii. The O’Brien boy said they thought at least hundreds of people must have been killed. The navy ships were sunk. The radio said the president is talking to Congress tomorrow. They say he’s going to declare war.”
War. Anna’s numbed thoughts turned the word over, trying to make sense of it. She looked at Jacob, seeking reassurance, but saw only a shock equal to her own.
“Komm.” Daad seemed to rally himself. “Sit. Have some coffee.”
Zeke shook his head. “Denke, but no. I’m on my way to Susie’s place. Her husband is working away, and I don’t want her to be alone with the babies.”
Susie was Zeke’s married daughter. Anna could understand his need to be with her. She reached out toward Jacob, and he took her hand in his firm grasp, not caring whether her parents saw or not.
“It has come,” Seth said as Daad closed the door behind Zeke. His voice was harsh. “Everyone said war was coming, but we Amish weren’t listening.”
“It’s not a question of not listening.” Daad spoke evenly as he returned to his seat, but Anna had the frightening feeling that he’d aged ten years in the past few minutes. “But we can do nothing about it. We do not resort to violence, no matter what happens.”
Onkel Tobias thudded his fist against the table, his normally jovial round face bleak above his chestnut beard. “It will be chust as bad as it was during the last war. We have to face the truth.”
Mammi clasped her hands as if in prayer. “Surely things won’t be that harsh again. Folks understand our ways now better than they did back before the first war. They know our boys can’t fight.”
“The government knew that then, but that didn’t stop the officials from forcing our boys into uniform.” Onkel Tobias frowned at Daadi. “Don’t go gesturing for me to keep silent, either. These two boys are right at the age. They’ll be the ones who have to face it.” He stopped short, shaking his head.
“What happened in the last war? Nobody ever talks about it.” Seth sounded as if he had to make an effort to keep his voice from breaking. “Like you said, me and Jacob are at the age to be affected. We have a right to know what to expect. What happened?”
Daadi exchanged glances with Onkel Tobias. He nodded slowly. Reluctantly.
“Ja. You have a right to know.” Daadi ran a hand over his forehead, maybe trying to clear his thoughts. “There was conscription—that means all the young men were called up to serve in the military. Our bishops told the authorities that it was against our faith to fight, but they didn’t listen. Boys were forced to go to army camps, to put on uniforms. If they tried to refuse, the others called them cowards. They beat them.”
Anna had thought Daad couldn’t get any paler, but he did. She longed to make him stop. She didn’t want to hear anything worse.
“Some went to prison. Others were sent off to war, where
most of them died in the fighting or from illness they picked up on the battlefields.” Daad’s face twisted. “We thought we were finished with the military when our people left Europe centuries ago, but we weren’t.”
“Daadi . . .” Anna reached toward him, longing to offer comfort but not sure how.
“That’s what happened to your onkel John. My older brother.” Daadi’s face was bleak with pain. “They gave him a rifle and told him to shoot at the enemy. The others who were with him told my mamm and daad he didn’t fire the weapon. He just stood there, and the enemy soldiers shot him.” He shook his head. “I prayed no one else of the Leit would ever have to make that choice. But now—”
“People understand us better now,” Jacob said, as if repeating something he desperately wanted to believe. “They understand that our faith is founded on nonviolence.”
“Nobody understands.” Seth’s face twisted. “Don’t be so foolish. The Englisch are already turning against us. This will make it worse.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jacob said. His fingers tightened on hers. “We Amish are committed to turning the other cheek. What good would it do to force us into uniform? Besides, if there’s a war, people will need food more than ever. It doesn’t make sense to take us away from our farms.”
“Nobody’s thinking about good sense right now,” Seth retorted. “They’re just thinking about how their own sons will have to go and fight, so we should, as well.”
“Enough,” Daad said, his tone firm. “If God is sending this trial to test us, we must stay strong and obedient. Think of those who were martyred for the faith before we ever came to this country.” His gaze flickered from Anna to Jacob. “Jacob, you should go to your family now. They will need to have you with them when they hear what has happened.”
Jacob nodded. He rose, letting go of Anna’s hand, and she felt cold without his touch.
She stood, too, and went quickly around the table. She’d see him out, and they could have a moment or two of privacy on the porch before he left. She needed it.
Jacob took his black coat from the hook near the door, and Anna grabbed the wool shawl that hung there. She glanced back at the table. The family was still seated around the table, the yellow glow from the gas lamp gilding their faces, just as she’d seen them when she was pouring out the coffee. But the peace she’d sensed then was gone, shattered into bits by something that had happened a half a world away.