Arms of Mercy

by Ruth Reid

  Bishop Zook clasped his hands together. “As I said yesterday, your visit has made your mammi very happy.”

  Elijah braced for a “but” in the statement.

  “I know technically you’re no longer an active member in our district, but when there’s a grievance between two members—”

  “Grievance, you say?” Elijah groaned under his breath. Zach. He must have gone to the bishop after finding him with Catherine in the alley. No wonder he scurried off like a barn rat when the bishop asked to have a word. “I think I can explain.”

  “Please, do.”

  “Zach wasn’t aware that mei fraa, Edwina, had gone on to be with the Lord. He saw me talking with Catherine in town and . . . jumped to the wrong conclusion.” Noticing the bishop’s brows anchored at a slant, he further explained. “After being gone so long, I was probably overzealous wanting to . . . reconnect with old friends. Under the circumstances, Zach believed his concerns were legitimate.”

  He stopped short of suggesting Zach had been motivated by jealousy. But if the bishop wasn’t aware of Zach and Catherine courting, Elijah wasn’t about to snap that trap. Especially since couples often kept their relationship a secret in the beginning.

  “It wasn’t Zach who voiced concerns.”

  “I see.” Then it had to be Melvin Yoder, who could have glanced out one of his storefront windows when Elijah had left the parking lot shortly after her. Tongues had wagged for lesser offenses.

  “Catherine spoke with Alice, who then brought it to mei attention.”

  Elijah lowered his head as heaviness filled his chest. He’d made a mess of things in the short time he’d been back.

  Bishop Zook placed his hand on Elijah’s shoulder. “Perhaps you need to consider sharing the news about your fraa with the others—when you feel ready, of course.”

  Elijah nodded. “If it’s okay with you, I think I should do it nau.”

  After her conversation with Alice, Catherine lost her appetite. Guilt gnawed the lining of her stomach, and now acid was climbing the back of her throat. She’d deliberately fed information to the bishop’s wife, knowing that Alice wouldn’t hesitate to take the news directly to her husband. Sure, Elijah had blocked the back of her buggy so she couldn’t close the hatch, in order to talk, but he hadn’t actually cornered her in the alley as Alice might have concluded.

  Catherine added a heaping spoonful of brown sugar into the crock of baked beans and stirred the mixture. Zach’s sister, Mary, wedged in beside her and leaned closer. “You look pale. Are you feeling okay?”

  Nay, she was sick, and not from the flu. She should have prayed about her decision to confide in Alice. “I—I’m roasting. I need some air.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Mary twined her arm with Catherine’s as they stepped onto the back porch. “I have some news, and I want to tell you first.”

  Catherine took a deep breath, then coughed when the icy air seized her lungs.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  “Robert proposed on New Year’s Day.” Mary squealed. “I’ve been floating on air ever since.”

  “That’s wunderbaar news!” Catherine smiled—until reality stole her joy. Come spring both Faith and Mary would be married. Catherine was the last of the trio, and judging by Zach’s reaction, she wouldn’t be sharing news of an upcoming wedding anytime soon.

  “We haven’t told anyone yet, so please keep the news to yourself.” Mary’s face held a warm glow. “I’m sure people will find out soon. You know how difficult it is for me to hold on to secrets.”

  “Floating on air”—must be nice. The resentment chilled Catherine to the bone. She shivered. “It’s colder out here than I thought. We should geh back inside.”

  “Jah, let’s.” Mary practically skipped to the door.

  Once inside, Catherine picked up a basket of yeast rolls off the counter and walked them into the sitting room to place on the serving table. Most of the men were milling around, talking in small groups. She spotted Zach a few feet away, but the moment their gazes connected, he turned his back to her. She had wanted to believe the snowstorm had kept him away the past five days, but his reaction was all too clear—she had really messed up by proposing the other night.

  Oh, Lord, I see nau how wrong it was to propose and nett trust Your plans for mei life. Please forgive me, Father, but please convict Zach of his shortcomings too.

  Catherine cringed. She couldn’t expect God to work in Zach’s heart when she was still carrying bitterness in hers toward Elijah.

  The front door opened. Bishop Zook stepped inside, followed by Elijah. The bishop removed his coat, but Elijah did not. He stood stiffly with his hands clasped in front of him and his head down.

  “Folks, if I could have your attention.” Bishop Zook waited for the conversations to stop and for the women to file out of the kitchen. Once he had everyone’s attention, he continued. “Before we pray over the food and enjoy our fellowship meal, Elijah would like to say a few words.”

  This should be interesting to hear. Catherine crossed her arms. Half expecting Elijah to hurl daggers at her when he looked up, she was taken aback by his doleful expression. The lines across his forehead crinkled as if he was searching hard for where to begin.

  Elijah cleared his throat. “As many of you know, I used to live here in Posen. I’ve been gone a few years, but I still have strong ties in this community.” He looked across the room, his gaze stopping on his grandmother, who had fallen asleep in the rocking chair next to the woodstove.

  A faint smile appeared, then faded as Elijah turned his attention back to those gathered around him. “I didn’t want mei visit to disturb anyone, but it’s been brought to mei attention that tittle-tattle has reached some of your ears. Please know that I meant no harm when I tried to visit an . . . an old friend. I certainly never wished to taint that individual’s reputation.” He paused long enough to take a breath. “What most of you don’t know is that while it’s true I did get married in Badger Creek a few years ago . . .”

  Six years ago, Catherine held back from voicing aloud.

  “Mei fraa has gone on to be with the Lord. She was sick . . . several years.” He forced a smile. “But she’s in a better place—she’s healthy and strong.” He turned and coughed into his fisted hand, and when he looked up his eyes were brimming with tears.

  Catherine’s throat swelled with emotion. Guilt threaded her veins. Elijah standing before the congregation, baring his soul, was her doing.

  Bishop Zook clapped Elijah’s shoulder. “Danki, Elijah. I know talking about losing your fraa was difficult. We offer our support and prayers.”

  Elijah nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to say one more thing.” His gaze locked on her. “I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable, Catherine. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  It seemed everyone’s eyes had turned toward her, awaiting her response. She sought out Zach in the crowd, only to find indifference in his stare. Thankfully, the bishop broke the tension by asking everyone to bow their heads in prayer for the meal. Silence filled the room.

  Catherine lowered her head, but it seemed forever before she could find the right words. Had I given Elijah a chance to talk, he probably would have told me privately.

  The bishop cleared his throat, signaling the end of the prayer before Catherine had the chance to thank the Lord for the meal. Her eyes were still closed when someone nudged her arm. She muddled through a quick “Danki, amen” and looked up.

  “What was that all about?” Mary raised her brows. “How did Elijah make you uncomfortable?”

  “I’ll fill you in later. Mei head is pounding.” Catherine pressed her hand against her temples. “I need a drink of water.” She dashed into the kitchen, but instead of removing a glass from her aenti Irma’s cabinet, she grabbed her cloak from the pile of winter wear and put it on. She needed more than water to dilute the acid clawing her throat.

  Mary came into the kitchen. “Are you leav
ing already?”

  “I’m nett feeling well. Will you tell Gwen I’ve gone home?” She wrapped her scarf around her neck.

  “Should I get Zach to drive you?”

  “Nay.” She sounded a little panicked to her own ears. “Let him eat with the others.” She reached for the doorknob. “I’ll talk with you soon.”

  Catherine breathed easier once she was outside. The chilly air numbed her face as she hiked the mile-long route home. Normally she would have avoided the main road and cut through the fields that joined the properties, but today the snow would be too cumbersome and getting home would take too long. Even walking along the roadside was challenging. Approaching traffic forced her over to the shoulder and into a bank of thigh-high snow just to keep safe. She lost feeling in her toes.

  Usually a quick walk helped clear her mind. Not today. She struggled to sort her thoughts—Zach’s avoidance in particular. Questions popped one right after another like kernels of corn under heat. Had she proposed to Zach in some sort of panic? In fear of loneliness, or in desperation, as he had said? Was there more to Zach’s cold shoulder?

  Catherine’s feet came out from under her and she fell backward. Her head smacked the ground. As she sat up, sharp, wavelike pulses radiated from the back of her skull to the front.

  You have to move. Roll into the ditch if you must, but get off the road. Black spots filled her vision.

  Chapter 6

  Are you hurt, miss?”

  Catherine squinted up at the broad-shouldered man hovering over her and grimaced. Blinding light obscured her vision. It wasn’t until he crouched beside her that she noticed his bushy red hair and his amber, almost glowing, eyes. Drawn to the glimmer of gold flecks dancing around his pupils, she forgot about the throbbing knot on the back of her head.

  “Should I call for an ambulance, miss?” Lines in his forehead rooted his weathered skin. “Miss?”

  A high-pitched buzzing sound filled her ears, blocking out the stranger’s deep baritone voice. She cupped her hands over her ears, but the ringing didn’t stop. If anything, the sound intensified.

  The good Samaritan placed his large hands over hers. Despite lying on the frozen ground, being wet, cold, and shaky, the moment his calloused hands touched her, she warmed from within. He uttered a string of gentle, undecipherable words, then moved his hands away from hers. The ringing stopped, and a sweet scent filled her senses.

  She quickly pushed off the ground. “How did you—?” A wave of dizziness washed over her at the same time her knees went weak. The man must have sensed her wooziness, because just as her legs buckled, he reached out and steadied her with his strong hand.

  “You need not ask how,” the elderly gentleman said, “but instead, turn your eyes upon your loving Father in heaven and give Him praise.”

  Catherine closed her eyes. Father, danki for watching over me, and for sending this stranger to help. Please continue to keep me safe. Amen.

  “‘The LORD is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.’” The man pointed to a young sparrow perched on the top of a fence post. “‘Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.’”

  “Even in the winter,” she added.

  “Are you not much more valuable than they?”

  Was she? Surely God had to be disappointed in the way she’d treated Elijah. She recalled Elijah at the gathering, standing in front of the members, how his eyes had moistened and how he kept touching his throat as though manually trying to push a lump aside in order to talk.

  The songbird’s chirping caught her attention. Perhaps the little bird was singing its own praises to God. “Don’t you find it odd that it didn’t migrate south for the winter with the other sparrows?”

  When the man didn’t reply, she glanced over her shoulder. The stranger was gone. How can that be? A shiver cascaded down Catherine’s spine as she looked in both directions down the road. Had she hit her head so hard on the ice that she’d simply imagined the red-haired man? The sweet fragrance, which she recognized as lilac, engulfed her senses. For sure her mind was playing tricks. Lilacs didn’t bloom in winter.

  Prompted by a nudge on her arm, Catherine peeled back the covers without opening her eyes and made room on the mattress for her niece. This was becoming a habit. Julie had to learn to sleep the night in her own bed. But instead of feeling her niece’s warm little body snuggle up beside her, Catherine felt a second, deeper poke on her arm. She opened her eyes a smidgen, but a flood of blinding sunlight prevented her from focusing on the five-year-old.

  “It’s time to eat, Aenti Catherine.”

  Catherine climbed out of bed. It had been two days since she’d fallen on the ice, and her head was still swirling and her joints ached as if she’d been trampled by a plow team. She touched the back of her head. The egg-sized bump hadn’t gone down. She smiled at Julie. “Tell your mamm I’ll be down in a minute. I have to get dressed.”

  A few minutes later Catherine lumbered into the kitchen. “I’m sorry for waking up late again, Gwen.” She went to the sink and washed her hands, then tied an apron around her waist. “What would you like me to do?”

  Gwen glanced up from the stove. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

  Catherine shook her head. “You didn’t hear that Aenti Irma and Faith closed the restaurant for a few months?”

  Gwen removed the pot of oatmeal from the stove. “When did they decide to do that?”

  “Faith told me on New Year’s Eve. I figured they would have said something on Sunday.” She filled a mug with coffee.

  “The topic of everyone’s conversation wasn’t the restaurant.”

  “Let me guess. Elijah?”

  “And you.” Her sister-in-law picked up her mug of coffee and motioned to the table. “Let’s sit down and talk. George is tending the new calf. He won’t be in anytime soon.”

  Catherine followed her to the table. “Is something wrong?”

  Gwen shrugged. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Jasmine. Ever since she gave birth, she’s been pushing the babe away. George has had to bottle-feed him every couple of hours.”

  “Ach, that’s nett gut.”

  “I agree. The special milk it requires is costly.” Gwen sighed. “I guess it is what it is.”

  “I’m going to look for another job. I asked Melvin Yoder, and he’s going to let me know.”

  “Your bruder’s worried about you. So am I.”

  “I have some money saved up—”

  “It’s nett about the money,” Gwen said. “Called out the way you were in front of everyone on Sunday, I would have expected your face to take on more of a beet shade, but yours turned as white as bleached sheets.”

  Catherine massaged her throbbing temples with the tips of her fingers with no relief.

  “Is there something going on between you and Elijah?”

  “Nay.” Catherine shook her head for emphasis but stopped when what felt like shards of heated glass seared her head, making her cringe.

  “Catherine, are you okay?”

  “I have a headache.” Gwen would ask too many questions if Catherine admitted to falling on the ice and a stranger stopping to help her, so she kept that information to herself. Besides, it wasn’t just the lump on her head causing the pain. It had been a week since her proposal, and Zach hadn’t so much as looked her in the eye. “Would you mind if I skip breakfast? I think I need to lie back down.”

  “Sure.” Gwen’s brows knitted. “Do you need something for your headache—aspirin or Tylenol?”

  “I think if I lie down a little while, I’ll be fine.” Medicine wouldn’t dull her heartache. Only Zach could heal that pain. Catherine took her mug to the sink and rinsed it out.

  “Before I forget.” Gwen moved to the basket where she kept the mail. “A letter came for you yesterday. It’s postmarked from Florida.” She handed Catherine the envelope.

  “Danki.” Catherine glanced
at her cousin’s handwriting. She hadn’t heard from Dawn since last fall. Heading up the stairs, Catherine opened the letter.

  Dear Catherine,

  I hope this letter finds you well. The weather here has been cool, some days only in the sixties and seventies. I suppose I shouldn’t complain to a northern Michigander. I hear from some of our customers at the bakery (whom we call snowbirds down here) that your area has had a lot of snow this year. I so wish you would come stay the winter with me. I could sure use your help . . . Our bakery has expanded. We’re open for lunch now, serving sandwiches and specialty salads, and we hope to add more items to the menu soon . . .

  Catherine continued reading, but her thoughts had stalled on the sentence about Dawn needing her help. Maybe going to Florida was the answer to Catherine’s dilemma. It would be an adventure, traveling so far away—a new journey.

  Chapter 7

  The following morning Catherine devoured a large stack of buttermilk pancakes, the thick maple syrup giving her a much-needed boost of energy. Last night she had stayed up late writing a letter to her cousin, and once the kitchen was tidied up, she planned to head into town to mail it. She half expected her brother and sister-in-law not to agree with her decision to go to Florida. Even she’d admit her response was rather spontaneous. Still, leaving town seemed the only answer to her problems, and she had prayed about her decision, although not with her usual fervency. Humming softly, Catherine slid the forked piece of pancake around her plate, sopping up the maple syrup.

  “You certainly seem chipper this morning, Catherine. I’m glad you’re feeling yourself again.” Gwen passed the plate of sausages to George, who took a few small patties and passed the plate on to Leah.

  Catherine swallowed the bite of pancake with a drink of milk. “Jah, I feel much better, danki.” She glanced at Julie seated beside her and winked. Her youngest niece had once again awakened in the middle of the night and ended up sleeping with Catherine.

  George pulled the pancake platter closer, then stabbed his fork into one and transferred it to his plate. Focused on eating, he’d been quiet since coming in from the morning milking. That wasn’t unusual, but Catherine sensed something was lying heavily on his mind. Gwen must have sensed it too, because she finished eating faster than normal and was pushing the children to do the same.