Why’s she so troubled about Maggie? Rachel wondered.
Partway home, Maggie had abruptly turned around and hurried the pony back to Betsy’s to pick up a dozen chocolate chip cookies for Leroy, like she’d planned. The cookies might help to smooth over her tardiness with her father, as well, who also loved a soft, delicious cookie. Especially one from Betsy’s.
Maggie directed the pony’s turn into the narrow lane through the densely wooded area that led up to the house, then into the sunlit front yard. Going clear up to the walkway adjacent to the side door, she halted the pony and got out to tie it to the hitching post. As usual, Dat came to help her, but today his smile and cheery greeting were absent.
“Sorry I’m so late,” she said quickly.
“You certainly are,” Dat said as he reached for the lines. “I’ll take care of this.”
“But surely your meal’s getting cold,” she protested, removing the dozen cookies from the cart.
“Go inside and wash up, daughter.” He shooed her toward the house.
Feeling terrible, Maggie tried to apologize again, but her father simply nodded toward the side door.
It was best to mind him, and she hooked her cane over her arm as she reached for the handrail up the steps, the box of cookies dangling from her other hand by the kitchen-twine handle Betsy had fashioned. Maggie noticed a few men sitting out on the lawn to eat. Must be more than our table can accommodate, she thought, glancing at the rising structure of the stable.
Inside, she set the cookies on the counter and went to the sink to wash her hands.
“You’re home,” Miriam said happily, looking up from the table, where she sat with some of the work crew.
“We were wonderin’ what happened to ya,” said Gracie, a question in her eyes.
Rachel, however, asked the girls to keep their attention on their food. “We’re all thankful that Maggie’s back safe and sound.”
This made Maggie feel all the worse.
Leroy coughed as Maggie sat down at the table filled with neighboring farmers. Since the meal was well under way for everyone else, she bowed alone to ask the silent blessing.
When she lifted her head, Leroy was staring at her, and she didn’t have to guess what was on his mind.
“I bought some cookies for ya.” She indicated the box on the counter.
He looked over his shoulder. “Chocolate chip?”
“What else?”
Leroy cracked a smile. “Denki.”
“Hope ya don’t mind sharin’,” she added for good measure as Dat came in just then and removed his work boots, his stocking feet light on the linoleum.
“Mamm always taught us to share,” Leroy said, looking over at Andy and Stephen.
Maggie held her breath. Every chance he could lately, Leroy was bringing up Mamm. And in that moment, she felt for Rachel. How did she manage to live in Mamm’s shadow every hour of every day?
Dat sat down and picked up his fork.
“I’ll reheat your food,” Rachel offered, reaching for his plate.
“No need.” Dat gave her a smile and started eating once again, striking up a conversation with his brothers and one of his cousins—all kind enough to step away from their own farming duties to assist in building the new stable.
Maggie ate, too, considering how best to bring up the mill tour she’d hastily promised her English friends. Now was definitely not the best time.
“I hope you’re not still upset with me, Dat. I couldn’t bear it,” Maggie told her father that evening, after the day’s work was done.
They were outside on the back porch, sitting out of earshot of the rest of the family—or so Maggie hoped.
“Upset that ya were late for dinner?” Dat asked with a tug on his beard. “Jah, I was. You know better, daughter. ’Specially on a day when Rachel and your sisters had their hands full, feeding extra mouths.”
From his remark, it didn’t sound as if Leroy had told him about coming upon her sitting and talking with Glenn, and she felt a sense of relief.
“Next time, I’ll be more mindful,” she assured him, going on to mention that she had run into the tent evangelist’s wife and son at Betsy’s little shop, of all places.
Dat seemed preoccupied now, staring out at the horse paddock.
“Turned out that Esther and Glenn Brubaker are interested in seein’ the inside of the gristmill . . . and I foolishly volunteered a short tour tomorrow at the start of your dinner hour.” She cringed as the words fell out of her mouth. “I’m sorry for not askin’ ya first, Dat.”
“Just how do ya know these folk?”
“They’re friends of cousins Tom and Sally.”
“Well, how about that,” Dat muttered and shook his head. “So Tom and Sally know the minister who’s drawing in thousands of curious people every night?”
“Jah.” She fidgeted in her rocking chair, feeling ever so tense. “Would ya mind terribly showin’ the Brubakers around a bit?”
He sighed. “Well, I can’t take much time away from the crew here.” He sounded displeased. “I hadn’t planned to go to the mill tomorrow.”
“Maybe the owner could show them around instead?” she suggested.
“Nee . . . that’s all right. For you, Maggie, I’ll make the time,” he said, surprising her.
She exhaled, not realizing till then that she’d been holding her breath. “Denki, Dat . . . and next time, I won’t speak out of turn.”
Her father checked the time on his pocket watch, then shifted in his seat. Something else seemed to be on his mind. “By the way, I read that health food store ad Nellie put near the cookie jar.”
“Ach, so koschtlich, ain’t?” Maggie shook her head. “I don’t expect ya to—”
“If it helps, I’ll thank the Good Lord above for havin’ the extra pennies to spend.” He excused himself to go inside and soon returned with a small sack, which he handed to her.
“I wanted to do this for ya, daughter,” he said, sitting down again.
She opened the sack and looked inside. There was the very bottle pictured in the ad. “You already purchased it?”
“I know you’ve tried near everything your Mamm and I could get our hands on, but one more possibility can’t hurt, jah? Just follow the instructions, and we’ll hope an’ pray you get some relief.” He talked about his conversation with the health food store owner. “He declared that several local people have experienced significant help.”
Maggie remembered what Jimmy had said about his one aunt. “Denki, Dat.”
After a few more minutes of small talk, her father got up, dug his hands into his pockets, and moseyed around the house to the side door.
Watching him go, Maggie was so touched that he would take a chance like this and spend so much on her. She loved him all the more for it.
She rose to go inside, too, and noticed Leroy standing at the window, then swiftly backing away.
Why must he eavesdrop?
22
Maggie stared at the bottle of pills her father had spent his hard-earned money for.
She wished she could will away her uncertainty about starting yet another experiment. If she took the pills and nothing happened, like every other time, wouldn’t she become disheartened again? Then again, if she actually got well, might this be God’s way of healing her?
She contemplated the latter, really wanting to adopt an optimistic outlook. Like Aunt Nellie would if she were in my shoes. But after so many unsuccessful attempts at treatment over the past years, Maggie was skeptical.
Following evening prayers and family Bible reading, she slipped away to the kitchen and turned on the faucet to fill the tumbler half full, then opened the pill bottle, having read the directions on the back: Take one twice a day, twelve hours apart.
“I may as well start tonight,” she murmured, opening her mouth.
Just then, Grace appeared in her pastel pink cotton duster. “You’re talkin’ to yourself again,” she said, opening the cupboard d
oor and reaching for a tumbler, too.
“And you must be thirsty.” Maggie took a sip of water and swallowed the pill.
“It’s so hot upstairs, I thought of comin’ downstairs to sleep.”
“Want to?”
“Would ya mind?” Grace looked hopeful.
Maggie hesitated, then said, “Not at all.” But the damage was done.
“Are ya worried I might bump ya?”
“You’ll be careful, I’m sure,” Maggie replied, knowing that to say more would hurt her sister’s feelings.
But Grace could read her pretty well. “On second thought, I’d rather sweat it out upstairs than risk that.”
“Ach, Gracie—”
“I mean it,” Grace interrupted, carrying her water to the kitchen table and taking a spot on the side near the open windows. “I’m wide-awake,” she said. “Want to sit with me a while?”
“Sure, I’ll just get my cushion.”
“Nee . . . I’ll go an’ get it for ya.” Grace scurried off to Maggie’s bedroom, then rushed right back. “There, that’ll be better.”
“Denki.” Maggie wondered if Grace had heard about these new pills, so she said, “I started takin’ something different than aspirin for my pain.”
Grace looked surprised. “Something Rachel dreamed up?”
“Why would ya think that?”
“Oh, she sometimes has a way of pushin’ her nose into things.”
Maggie thought about that but wasn’t sure she agreed. “Rachel’s comin’ along, I think. Don’t you?”
“Maybe . . .”
Maggie didn’t feel at liberty to reveal that it was Jimmy Beiler who’d first mentioned the pills to her. “Well, I will say that this is probably the last time I’m gonna try a newfangled product. I get my hopes up, and then they come fallin’ down.”
“It’s up to you, isn’t it, since you’re eighteen now?”
Maggie didn’t agree. “As long as I’m livin’ under Dat’s roof, that really ain’t true.”
Grace took a long drink of cold water. “S’pose you’re right, but you went off to those meetings with Luke and Lila that time, without askin’.”
Maggie acknowledged that. “I regret it. And made it right with Dat, too.”
Grace nodded. “I should’ve known ya would.” She rose and walked back to the pantry and brought out a box of crackers. “Are ya hungry?”
“I rarely am this time of night.” Maggie wondered if there was something more on Grace’s mind.
Grace opened the box anyway and took several crackers. “Am I keepin’ you up?”
“Nee, not if ya have somethin’ you wanna talk about.”
“But I’m sure you’re tired.” Grace rose again and asked to see the pill bottle. “If it’s all right.”
Maggie handed it to her, glad to have this opportunity to talk about it, knowing Grace would keep it to herself.
I wouldn’t want my younger siblings asking every few minutes if I’m feeling better yet, Maggie thought. “I’m fairly sure Rachel knows, ’cause Dat bought them, but I’d rather the rest of the family not. Let’s just keep it ’tween us. The younger ones might just get their hopes up if they know.”
“Like you have before.” Grace’s words seemed to hang in the air.
“But this time, I’m putting my faith and hope in the Great Physician.”
Grace looked solemn there in the flickering lantern light. “I daresay you’re a stronger person than I’ll ever be.”
Maggie thought of the verse Glenn had shared with her. My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. “When we are weak, we can trust Christ to make us strong,” she said softly.
Grace agreed. “I need to remember that.” She smiled, then outened the lantern.
They said good-night and returned to their separate bedrooms.
Bees swarmed in the flower garden around the summer phlox Mamm had planted years ago, as Maggie headed outdoors with her cane a little after eleven-thirty the next morning. Leroy had already hitched up for Dat to drive over to the mill with her and was waiting to help her into the family carriage.
Maggie glanced at the sky. “It’s sure a nice, clear day for workin’ on the new stable,” she remarked.
“It’s a gut day for getting my nose sunburnt, that’s what.” Leroy chuckled as he pushed down on the crown of his straw hat, then offered a hand so she could climb into the buggy.
“Denki for helpin’ me.”
Leroy bobbed his head. “Thought I’d surprise Dat by hitchin’ up, too.” He glanced toward the stable, more than halfway built now.
She stuck her neck out. “I take it ya didn’t mention to Dat who I was sittin’ with at Betsy’s yesterday.” Maggie hoped she sounded less concerned than she felt.
Leroy smiled then. “That there fella seemed harmless enough.”
“Well, I did tell Dat that I ran into Glenn and his mother,” Maggie said. “It was just a coincidence—they were out sight-seeing.”
“That Glenn’s real freindlich, ain’t so?” Leroy observed.
She nodded. If her brother had seen Glenn greet her after one of the tent meetings, Leroy would know this for certain. But she didn’t need to add firewood to his curiosity.
Then, seeing their father head to the pump to wash his arms and hands, she quietly thanked Leroy for not making a mountain out of yesterday’s impromptu encounter.
“Just have yourself a nice time at the mill . . . with your English friends,” Leroy said with a sly smile.
“Well now, I will,” she said, laughing.
Three vehicles were parked outside when Dat pulled into the parking area next to the old gristmill. The trees on the south side of the small lot shimmered in the sunlight, and birds flitted back and forth, calling merrily.
“I appreciate this,” Maggie told her father as she got out of the buggy. Stepping down, she momentarily winced, though she felt happy at the thought of seeing Glenn and his delightful mother, Esther, again. Their family has done so much to bring the gospel into our community.
Taking her father’s arm, Maggie walked to the door and entered, immediately aware of the rhythmic rumble and clatter of the moving machinery powered by the waterwheel outside.
It wasn’t long before Glenn and his mother arrived. Dat let them in through the mill’s Dutch door and shook hands with Glenn. He introduced himself, then joked that he was “a man who keeps his nose to the grindstone.”
Glenn chuckled, and his mother smiled as Maggie welcomed them inside, as well.
“What’re ya most interested in seeing?” Dat asked them.
Glenn deferred to his mother, who said she appreciated simply being permitted to look around. “I’ve seen waterwheels close up, but not the interior of a working mill,” Esther said.
“Well, I’ll be glad to show ya what I do all day,” Dat said.
Maggie was pleased at how cordial he was, even though he likely wasn’t keen on encouraging her acquaintance with the son and wife of the man making headlines in the Lancaster papers.
When the last of the already cleaned grain had been sent through the center of the millstones to be sifted, Dat directed the other workers to halt the process.
“It’s so fine!” Esther exclaimed, evidently surprised at the quality of the flour as it went through the large sifter before dropping into the bin.
Once the machinery ceased its motion, Dat led them over to the enormous quartz stone and demonstrated the process of dressing, or sharpening it. “It can take up to three days to dress a set of stones,” he mentioned.
Next, her father showed how they adjusted the studs and checked the texture of the flour. “Something I do pretty often during the process—all day long, really.” He chuckled before adding, “It’s the same old grind, ya know!”
It was plain to see that Dat was enjoying himself.
At the end of the tour, Maggie went with the Brubakers to look at the wheat flour and cornmeal packaged for sale in wh
ite paper bags, the name of the mill printed on them.
After Esther had looked around and asked several more questions, Dat led them back outdoors. Maggie walked with Glenn, who held the door for them, seemingly pleased about the tour. He thanked Dat for his time, and Esther reached to squeeze Maggie’s hand. “Lord bless you,” she said, eyes sparkling.
When Maggie glanced up, she saw Jimmy Beiler sitting in the lot in his father’s market wagon, looking her way. He waved, and she swallowed hard, wondering what he was thinking at the sight of her and her father talking so animatedly with two Englischers.
“The tour was very informative,” Esther was saying. “You’re so thoughtful, Maggie, to arrange it for us.”
“Yes, thank you both again,” Glenn said.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable with Jimmy still parked there, Maggie waved to the Brubakers as they got in their car. They backed up slowly, the tires crunching over the pebbles on the dirt lane as they waved again through the windows.
The minute they were gone, Jimmy hopped down from the wagon. “Nice to bump into ya here, Maggie,” he said, walking up to her.
“I rarely come over anymore,” she admitted, looking down at her cane and feeling self-conscious.
Jimmy’s black work trousers were a bit grubby, no doubt from the smithy’s shop, and for some reason, his green short-sleeved shirt made his eyes look bluer. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked in the direction where Glenn’s car kicked up dust as it exited toward the paved road. “Do ya know those folk?” Jimmy asked, returning his gaze to her.
“Jah, for just a short time.” She left out who they were, or that she’d gone to the tent meetings. Dat would likely want that kept quiet, so she didn’t broadcast it. “They were curious to see a workin’ mill,” she told him, her heart still thrumming. Oh, if only she could just talk normally to Jimmy!
“And your father showed them around?”
She nodded, wishing Jimmy would just go in and do what he’d come for.
“S’pose you’re headed home now,” he said, his smile inquisitive. That same remarkable smile had caught her attention so long ago.
The First Love Page 14