by Sarah Price
But Grace saw something in his eyes. Unlike his smile, his eyes held no expression of joy. She waited until the doctor handed her the baby, wrapped in a clean white towel so that he could return his attention to Jane while Grace cleaned the infant. With her back turned to Jane, she unwrapped the infant and dipped a clean cloth in warm water.
For a moment, she startled. The baby’s face was beautiful, a miniature angel in her arms, with a small puckered mouth and a slightly upturned nose. Her coloring looked good; she had pinked up right away. But it was her limbs that caused Grace to catch her breath. Unlike other babies, this infant’s arms and legs were smaller. She was, indeed, a dwarf.
Oh Lord, she thought. What trials continue to plague this family. Give us the strength to provide the support Ivan and Jane will need to raise this child.
As if in response to her prayer, the infant opened her mouth and out came a small cry. The noise sounded like a kitten mewing, and Grace gave a soft laugh at the sound. The baby waved her short arms as she cried, a reminder to Grace that she had a job to do. “There, there,” she cooed as she gently wiped the baby clean. Her heart opened and she knew that God answered her prayers, for her shock dissipated and she knew, without any doubt in her heart, that she loved this child.
Swaddled in a clean baby blanket, the baby stopped crying. Grace laid the infant next to Jane. “She’s beautiful,” Grace said. “A true gift from God.”
Though tired and weak, Jane smiled as she held the bundled baby in the crook of her arm. Letting Jane enjoy this moment, Grace hurried out of the room to alert Ivan that he had a new daughter. She didn’t dare tell him about the dwarfism. Let him find out after seeing that angelic face and hearing her sweet cry.
Only when Ivan left the room did Grace turn to Menno. The scowl on his face told her that he was still dwelling on Ivan’s defiance of his wishes. Oh, she wanted to speak out and to tell him what she thought. But she knew better than to contribute to the argument. The Bible and the Ordnung were quite clear; women were to accept the authority of their husbands, no questions asked.
She cleared her throat and sat down at the table beside Menno. “The child is a blessing, Menno,” she said slowly. “God has sent us a special child to tend, a unique boppli who will teach us many lessons.”
Her words caught his attention and the scowl was instantly replaced with concern.
“Is the boppli healthy?”
Grace nodded her head, but slowly. “Ja, healthy. But short-limbed.”
Something deflated in Menno. His shoulders sank and the corners of his mouth drooped.
“Now, Menno,” she said in a soft voice. “They’ll be needing our help. It’s not as if this doesn’t happen. Why, the Troyers who have the harness store—they have two short-limbed kinner. They both help at the store and live normal lives. Just takes some adjustment, is all.”
He exhaled and bowed his head. “Stronger backs,” he mumbled. “Always pray for stronger backs.”
Ivan and Jane named the baby Verna, realizing, Grace thought, that naming her Susan would be unthinkable now. No one ever spoke about the baby’s extra-short limbs. If the older children noticed, they knew better than to ask questions. As for the younger ones, Grace suspected that they didn’t know the difference.
In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Grace helped Jane as much as she could. She’d watch the younger boys while the older children were at school, and she made both dinner and supper for their family. Yet she could sense something was wrong; there was a coldness in the air that didn’t come from winter. Menno and Ivan barely spoke to each other, and little by little, Grace sensed some of the same reserved detachment from her son as well.
What on earth could I have done to upset him? she wondered. She knew she couldn’t ask Menno, for he was still stewing over the fact that Ivan had disobeyed his wishes by communicating with Susan. And Ivan’s aloofness kept her from inquiring of him directly.
It was the evening of the school program when everything came to a head. Jane had stayed home with the baby, being that she was still under four weeks old. Grace bundled up the two smaller boys while the older children dressed themselves for the short walk to the schoolhouse. Ivan walked ahead, carrying Benjamin in his arms, clearly making a statement with his physical distance from the rest of the group. While the children didn’t notice it, Grace certainly did.
As with every school program, the one-room schoolhouse was crowded. There were drawings on the walls and small, cutout snowflakes stuck onto the windows. It made for a festive environment, and with Benjamin sitting on her lap, Grace felt a surge of holiday cheer.
Even though the programs tended to be the same each year, Grace still found great joy in listening to the students recite the story of Jesus’s birth and sing songs, both from the Ausbund and from their Christmas songbook. Some years, there was a variation to the program, one or two of the older children reciting a poem or short story they had written. But Grace knew that the most important aspect of the program was that the children understood the importance of Christmas, the day their Savior was born.
The performance was short, limited to just one hour. But the sky was already gray by the time they started the walk home. Their boots crunched on the packed snow along the side of the road and their breath clung to the air like little puffs of smoke. Samuel liked breathing heavily so that he could see it.
Earlier, Grace had cooked a nice meal for the whole family. Christmas was just ten days away, and she felt a celebration was in order. Not only had Lydia and Barbie worked hard for their holiday program, but Grace also felt that a nice family gathering might loosen the tension that still hung in the air. While she knew she had to accept Menno’s word as the authority, she also knew no one could accuse her of disobeying him by hosting a family meal.
Since Ivan and Jane’s kitchen was larger, Grace had planned to have the meal at their table. Already it was set with Barbara’s old china, each place setting neatly aligned atop freshly pressed white linen. Only something was different when she walked into the kitchen to finish the final preparations for the meal. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Jane sat in a rocking chair, nursing Verna, a crocheted blanket covering the baby to keep her warm. Lydia and Barbie helped Grace in the kitchen while Levi played checkers with Samuel, Benjamin sitting next to them, his eyes wide as he watched the game.
“Now, I know I counted properly,” Grace said. “But my word! I have an extra place setting!” She laughed to herself, quickly counting the plates on the table, “Six . . . seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . ten.” Ten? What had she been thinking? “Oh, help,” she said, embarrassed at her mistake. “I must be ferhoodled! I did put out one too many settings.” She reached over to remove one when Ivan spoke up.
“Leave it, Maem.”
Grace froze, her fingers just inches from the plate.
“I asked Jane to put the extra setting there.”
And at that, she knew. Without any further words, Grace understood that Susan was in the house. Dropping her hand to her side, Grace stood up straight and faced her son. “Do you really think this is appropriate, Ivan?” she whispered, loud enough that he could hear. “Must you challenge your daed in such a manner? And before Christmas too?”
“This is my haus, Maem,” Ivan said, not a hint of defiance in his voice despite the disregard for his father’s authority in his words. “And she is my schwester. She needs our help. I will not turn my back on her.”
“Where is she?” Grace asked, uncertain whether she asked out of curiosity or alarm that Menno would now walk in. “Your daed will not stay if she’s here.”
“Then he’ll be welcome to leave.”
He was putting her in a difficult spot. Once again, she was being forced to choose. Oh, how can Ivan do this to me! she thought. “I will have to go with him.”
Ivan lifted an eyebrow as if to question her on the validity of her statement.
It happened simultaneously. Menno entered thr
ough the door that connected the two houses as soft footsteps came down the staircase. Grace stood there, her heart pounding and her palms sweating, as she looked first at her husband and then at her daughter, a daughter she barely recognized.
Now thirty-seven years old, Susan had short hair with bangs covering her forehead. She wore a dress that didn’t fit her thin frame, and Grace suspected that it had been purchased just for this meeting. She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes telling a story that Grace did not want to hear. Fifteen years had passed, and just one look at Susan told Grace that her daughter had faced tremendous hardship. The fight in her was gone, replaced with defeat.
Susan paused on the bottom step, her hand on the railing. She met Grace’s look and started to say something.
Menno interrupted. “Grace, we must leave now.”
For a split second, Grace hesitated. She looked once more between the two of them: her husband and her daughter. In forty-five years of marriage, she had never once defied him. The thought crossed her mind that mayhaps, just this once, she should.
“Maem,” Susan said, her voice cracking. “Please!”
“Grace!”
And in that moment, Grace knew she had only one choice. She could not go to Susan. To do so would be to break two vows: one to follow the Ordnung and the other to obey her husband. Lowering her head, she turned away from her daughter and avoided looking at the children. Slowly she crossed the room and followed Menno back through the door that led to their house. But she knew at that moment that she had left a piece of her heart in Ivan’s kitchen.
2015
When she returned home, carrying her two bags of groceries, Grace noticed something white stuck on the window of her front door. As she neared it, she saw a package on the doorstep. Shuffling the two bags so that she could search for her key, she looked at the envelope and saw her name written clearly in block letters. She felt almost giddy for a moment, knowing without a doubt that her secret sister had struck once again.
Once she had opened the door, she set down the two bags and returned to remove the taped envelope before bending down to retrieve the small package. With her hip, she pushed at the door, making certain that it shut all the way. Whoever had written her name had a very different style of writing. Grace studied it, delaying the opening of the envelope so she could enjoy the anticipation.
The package was a plain white box. It wasn’t wrapped, and she could easily lift the lid. For a moment, she debated which to open first: the box or the envelope. Finally, she decided on the envelope and slid her finger along the back fold. Inside were two pieces of paper: one a cutout snowflake and the other a folded piece of paper. She fingered the design of the snowflake, recognizing it as something a child would make at school. Yet the detail to this particular cutout was certainly made by an adult. The cuts were neat and even, completely symmetrical.
Curiosity got to her and she set aside the snowflake. The folded piece of paper was next. Taking a deep breath, she flipped it open and stared at the words. Once again, like the envelope, the words were written in block letters.
What is winter without. . .
That was all it said. She frowned, completely puzzled by the meaning of the message. What is winter without snow? she thought. Well, that made some sense. But it didn’t mean anything to her. Every one of the other gifts had signified something, an event in her life. This one, however, did not.
She set the letter next to the snowflake and reached for the small white box. The contents jiggled as she slid it across the table and fumbled with the top. But when she opened it, she caught her breath. Sugar cookies! The box was filled with fresh-baked sugar cookies!
“Of course!” she said out loud, a bemused smile on her lips. She repeated that phrase over and over again during the cold weeks that led up to the holidays. As Christmas neared, she baked a sheet of cookies almost every day for her children, and later her grandchildren, until that one Christmas when Susan appeared on Ivan’s doorstep.
But who could know such a thing?
Now she began to wonder. Could her secret sister be one of the children? Perhaps Ivan? After all, he had written to her after several months of silence, and he was bringing the family to her house in just two days. Certain it must be Ivan, Grace found a new hope that the relationship severed five long years ago would be repaired.
CHAPTER NINE
December 16, 2015
THE DRIVER PARKED the van in front of the retirement home so the passengers could exit right at the front door. Grace took a deep breath, gathered her belongings, and climbed from the van. Standing on the cement walkway outside the entrance, she looked up at the two-story building. The institutionalized appearance of the home, so crisp and angular, felt cold to Grace, like a harbinger of death. In truth, she knew that each person who lived in the home would never again live elsewhere. At least not on earth.
All morning she had dreaded the visit that Lizzie’s granddaughter had unknowingly guilted her into joining. For weeks, Lizzie had been asking her to join the Wednesday group. For weeks, Grace made up excuses. She never liked visiting the home when Menno was alive. Now she avoided it because she knew that in a few years, this could very well be her home.
“You ready, then?” Lizzie asked as she started toward the entrance. Grace gathered her strength and followed the rest of the group into the building, careful not to get hit by the spinning doors.
The first thing she noticed when she stepped into the lobby was the smell. She remembered it from previous visits, back when Menno came to visit members of the church district. He too had been a part of the Wednesday group. And he often asked Grace to accompany him. While she usually declined, there were a few times he made her go, telling her it wasn’t proper for him to always be visiting the people without her.
The odor was a mixture of bleach and something else she couldn’t identify. It was the scent of clean, but not the clean that usually permeated Amish homes. To Grace, it smelled distinctly like a hospital, full of Englische people dressed in green scrubs or wearing white coats. Here, however, the people who greeted the group were dressed in regular clothing: the men in nice suits and the women in dresses, mostly patterned, although some were Plain.
Grace had always suspected that their attire was strictly because of the residents and visitors, most of them being Amish and Mennonite. She wondered what the workers wore at home. Did they wear jeans and sweatshirts? Did the younger women wear makeup? She never did ask, although she wanted to know the answer.
Recently, there were only two people from their district residing in the home, but several of the women who had ridden along in the van had other family members residing there. Lizzie took charge and instructed those without family members to split up. Half of the group would visit Eli King while the other half would visit Jane Hostetler. Reluctantly, Grace followed Lizzie and Hannah, the three of them assigned to visit with Eli, while the rest of the group walked down a different corridor.
Oh, how she hated the sights and the sounds. Grace tried to stare straight ahead and not peek into the rooms with open doors. But curiosity got the best of her. An Amish man, most likely in his late seventies, sat in a chair, staring at nothing with his mouth hanging open. In another room, an elderly woman lay in her bed, covered with a white sheet as she slept. Grace heard a faint voice from another room, the voice calling out a name over and over again.
How cruel, Grace thought, that these people were left here alone and not surrounded by family at the final stages of their lives.
“Ah, here we go,” Lizzie announced. She walked right into the room, obviously having visited Eli King before this day. Her familiarity made Grace feel guilty. Even if she lived alone, she was luckier than most to still be able to do so. If she became incapacitated or in need of round-the-clock care, she would have no choice but to stay at such a facility and, most likely, be in want of company.
“Eli!” Lizzie said, her voice loud enough so that the older man could hear. “E
li! You awake, then?”
He blinked his eyes and lifted his head, staring at the three women. Clearly he had been napping. He moistened his lips and cleared his voice before he said in a raspy voice, “Well, if I wasn’t before, I sure am now!”
Lizzie laughed and set her large purse on the window ledge. Immediately she drew back the blinds so that sunlight could stream in. “It’s too dark in here!” she announced. “You need some sunshine, Eli! Will do you good!”
He waved his hand at her dismissively, which only made Lizzie laugh again.
Grace watched this exchange, feeling a new admiration for her friend. Lizzie was completely at ease as she bossed Eli around, helping him to sit up and readjusting the pillows behind his head. She tried to coax him out of bed to sit in his wheelchair so that they could wheel him down the corridor to the large gathering room where other residents with more mobility often sat and played games.
Again he waved away her suggestion.
“Aw, now, Eli! You can’t just sit in your room all day!”
“Why not? There’s nothing out there but a bunch of old people playing checkers or Scrabble. Checkers bores me and those Scrabble tiles are just too small to see anyhow!” he snapped back, his feistiness surprising Grace. Suddenly, as if noticing them for the first time, he turned his attention to Hannah and Grace. “Who’s that there?”
Lizzie leaned over so he could hear her better. “You know my sister-in-law, Hannah. She’s been here before to visit you. James’s Hannah?”
He seemed to study Hannah for a moment until he recognized her. “Ja, ja, I remember James Esh.” He turned to look at Lizzie. “And Hannah is David’s schwester, ja?”
“That’s right, Eli,” Lizzie replied. “And we brought Grace Beiler with us today. You remember the Beilers, don’t you?”
“Hmm.” He lifted a shaky hand to his chin and rubbed it as he thought. “I reckon I do. Menno Beiler. A right gut man! Helped me once with some field work when my boy was taken ill.” He stared at Grace. “Why didn’t he come with you?”