The First Love

by Beverly Lewis

  32

  Come that first Sunday in August, Maggie was relieved there was no Preaching service to attend, even though she’d always looked forward to them. It also meant there would be no baptismal class, and she still wasn’t feeling up to either one.

  Rachel, too, seemed to be in a bad way, although she came downstairs and sipped her mint tea first thing that morning, just as she had been doing lately. Maggie, on the other hand, had to have help walking from her bed just to the kitchen, despite the fact that she was still faithfully taking the pills as directed.

  Before the rest of her siblings sat down for breakfast that sunny Lord’s Day, Maggie found herself at the table with her father. “It doesn’t make sense to order any more of that special supplement,” she told him. “Not since the pain came back.”

  Dat’s frown was evident. “Are ya sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Truth be known, her pain was increasing each day, she told him. “But more than anything, I dislike not bein’ able to help round the house.”

  Rachel carried her teacup and saucer over to the table and stood there. “You mustn’t worry ’bout that, Maggie.”

  Dat said, “Rachel’s right. Put your energies to better use.”

  “I’m hopin’ the high humidity is to blame for this setback,” Maggie said, thinking that in the past some of her worst days had been on hot, muggy, or rainy days. Yet it was hard to understand why she had consistently done so well recently, only to experience such a drastic turnaround. Did I push myself too hard with all those chores?

  “Well, I suggest ya keep takin’ the pills till they run out.” Dat gave her a smile. “Let’s see what happens.”

  Later, when all the family sat down for breakfast, Maggie enjoyed the scrambled eggs and bacon her sisters had made. Poor Rachel, however, made do with a few saltine crackers and a second cup of mint tea.

  While Maggie was drinking her orange juice, it popped into her mind that both Nellie and Glenn Brubaker had promised to pray for her, and she smiled, heartened by it.

  After they’d all finished eating, Maggie added a thank-you to God during the closing silent prayer, this one for everything she’d learned just this summer about His power to change lives . . . and to heal. While this sudden reversal made it easy to give in to discouragement, she refused to give up hope.

  Jimmy dropped by unexpectedly later that morning with a walker he’d picked up from Betsy Lapp. When he brought it into the house from the market wagon, Maggie thanked him profusely for the very practical surprise. “Betsy’s Dat said to use it as long as you need it,” he told her, concern evident on his handsome face as he placed his straw hat on the kitchen bench.

  “That’s so nice . . . but how will he manage?” Maggie asked, quickly discovering how much easier it was to balance herself with the walker than with the cane. The extra support meant she could get around on her own.

  “Betsy says he’s doin’ fine without it. His gout’s easing up.” Jimmy sat next to his hat as Maggie slowly shuffled along behind the walker, going around the kitchen. “You’ll get used to it,” he said.

  “It’s a big help, jah.” She turned at the far end of the kitchen and inched back. “How can I ever thank ya?” she said, feeling more fond of Jimmy than ever, if that was possible.

  “Ach, no need for that, Maggie.” He smiled and sat there, looking at her so tenderly it startled her.

  The side door opened, and Rachel and the girls came in from a morning walk. Miriam noticed the walker first and went to look at it but didn’t make a fuss like she might have even a year ago. Thank goodness, Maggie thought, smiling at how much her youngest sister had grown up.

  Miriam’s expression held oh so many questions, but she didn’t voice them and instead turned to go into the front room with the rest of them. They’re giving me some time with Jimmy, she thought appreciatively.

  Maggie hobbled to the side door, hoping Jimmy might come over, which he promptly did. He held the door and helped her out to the porch, where they stood for a short time, talking more privately as birds flew back and forth to the purple martin birdhouse her brothers had made recently.

  “I’m sorry to see ya sufferin’ again,” he said. His hair shone in the sunlight, and she realized he’d left his straw hat inside.

  “It’s hardest when I want to leave the house,” she told him, still hoping she could think of a way to properly thank him for being so kind as to get the walker. How had he known she needed it?

  “Still hopin’ those pills might help again,” he said.

  She told him what her father had said about taking them till they ran out.

  “And what then?” Jimmy asked.

  She sighed, unsure how to answer. “I don’t know, other than to take it a day at a time and to praise God for whatever happens.”

  Jimmy seemed surprised at that. “Well, He must be giving you the grace to bear it, Maggie.”

  She gave a small shrug, feeling oddly close to him.

  “I think most people would be tempted to give up, after all you’ve been through,” he said.

  She pondered his words and realized that, in a sense, giving up was exactly what she was doing. Only it didn’t feel like quitting.

  “Honestly, my life, and my health, is in God’s hands. If He wants me well, then I will be.” She paused and looked down at the walker, thankful for the stability it brought. “I just want to rest in what Jesus did for me—for all of us—when He took the stripes on His back for our healing.”

  “Your faith is strong.” Jimmy nodded his head, studying her. “I really believe that.”

  Wanting to move the conversation to something else, Maggie asked, “By the way, which do ya like better—pie or cake?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to bake anything for me, Maggie.”

  “Well, I’d like to.”

  Jimmy pushed his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “Just knowin’ you can get around more easily is enough for me.” He looked out toward the meadow. “I mean that.”

  They talked a while longer, mostly about the farm sale Jimmy was interested in attending this Thursday. Then, for a few moments, they were somewhat awkwardly silent, there in the still of the morning. The heat of the August day was tempered by an occasional breeze.

  And just when Maggie thought for sure that Jimmy wanted to say something more, something personal, he offered to help her back into the house. “Before I head home.”

  She agreed, and when they were inside again, Jimmy waited for her to take a seat in the kitchen before picking up his straw hat. Then, saying good-bye, he made his way to the door.

  Aware of how quiet the kitchen was in that moment, Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat. Part of her wished she hadn’t turned him down the one and only time he’d asked her out, so many months ago now. She had been so convinced that he only pitied her.

  She sat there, hands folded in her lap, the walker within arm’s reach, and recalled how he’d talked with her all during refreshments at Singing more recently but left at the end of the gathering without inviting her out. He must have assumed she only wanted friendship. Jah, surely that’s why Jimmy didn’t ask me again, she thought. What fellow wants to be refused twice?

  But in the end, it was for the best. We might’ve starting dating, she thought, and here I am, dreadfully sick again. Poor Jimmy might have been saddled with a cripple for the rest of his life. She shivered at the thought.

  I won’t do that to him!

  Besides, Jimmy had undoubtedly come to the same decision. He’d refused her offer of a cake or a pie as a thank-you. It seemed he did not want to be beholden to her even in that small way.

  Yet the realization didn’t ease Maggie’s broken heart. Not at all.

  The following Saturday afternoon, once their chores were done, Joseph suggested to Rachel a trip to Myerstown to visit her parents. It was something Rachel had been hoping for, though she hadn’t whispered a word to Joseph, who must have guessed that it would cheer her up. She h
ad been feeling much better yesterday and today, so Rachel happily agreed to go, just the two of them.

  As they approached the familiar countryside of her childhood, with all the landmarks of home, Rachel recalled the first time Joseph came with her to meet Dat and Mamm. They had been so polite and welcoming, as with any guest in their home, but there was a twinkle of anticipation, especially in Mamm’s eyes. Mamm had also gone out of her way to ask Rachel in advance what meals Joseph most enjoyed so she could surprise him with pork chops with rice and gravy.

  Rachel let her musing take her back to how Joseph had asked Dat for his blessing on their marriage. Dat actually chuckled, Rachel recalled. “She’s old enough to make up her own mind . . . but jah, I’m glad to give my blessing,” her father had said.

  “What’re ya thinking ’bout, dear?” her husband asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  She told him.

  And, winking at her, Joseph discreetly reached for her hand on the seat between them, and they rode that way until the van pulled into Dat’s long dirt driveway.

  Rachel felt like a child at Christmas, she was so overjoyed to see her parents again. She hugged her mother while Dat greeted Joseph with a warm handshake and the typical hullos, and then her parents accompanied them into the old farmhouse where Rachel had grown up. The spacious kitchen was sunny and cheerful, and Dat invited them to sit and relax at one end of the room, where a multicolored braided rug filled the space encircled by three cane-back chairs and one rocking chair. Nearby, a long brown sofa hugged the wall.

  Dat inquired about their trip, and soon he and Joseph were talking about farm auctions and tool sales while Rachel chatted contentedly with Mamm, who asked how she’d been since last seeing her at Maggie’s birthday celebration.

  After a time, Mamm mentioned that she had been washing all the windows inside and out for the past couple of days, since they’d had a number of hard rains lately—“streakin’ the panes, ya know.”

  Rachel nodded. This was the mother she knew and loved, always finding something to do. Mamm couldn’t imagine sitting still and just twiddling her thumbs, or whatever it was folks did when they weren’t occupied.

  Rachel’s father spoke up just then. “You womenfolk put us to shame.”

  “Well, maybe in an’ around the house, jah,” Mamm replied, laughing and rolling her eyes at him. “Remember all the hard work you did for years and years outdoors, Gid? From sunrise to sunset.” She grinned at him. “And all the beef cattle you raised and sold for slaughter. Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

  Rachel’s father shook his head right quick. “Now that I’m livin’ the easy life . . . out to pasture . . .” A mischievous smile crossed his face.

  “Ach, there’s a season for everything,” Mamm was ready to say. “And a time for every purpose under heaven. You’ve paid your dues an’ then some.”

  “Now, Mary Mae,” Dat said, his long, graying beard bumping against his chest as he moved back and forth in his rocking chair.

  Rachel took note of the way her parents talked to each other, so warm and familiar. Will Joseph and I have such a comfortable manner one day? They were still getting acquainted, really, following their whirlwind courtship—if she could even call it that. But each day brought them closer as husband and wife.

  How she wanted to whisper the happy news to Mamm about being in the family way, and she hoped to have that opportunity yet before they left for home.

  Rachel’s father swatted a fly with his hand. “Yous should come up for the big pie auction over at the schoolhouse next week. Bring the youngsters . . . all of ’em.”

  Joseph nodded. “We’ll see. I’m sure they’d like that.”

  “Your little Miriam is quite the talker, ain’t so?” Mamm said to Rachel as they resumed their conversation.

  “Oh, she is.” And remembering what her mother had asked when they’d gone walking, she quietly mentioned that the older girls seemed more accepting of her here lately.

  “Warmin’ up to my precious daughter, are they?” Mamm said, her eyes shining.

  Hearing her say it that way brought a smile to Rachel’s face. She thought just then of Leroy driving her on that errand—and to the bake shop, too—and was reminded that everything was going to work out fine in the end. And she told her mother so.

  Rachel soaked in every single minute before, during, and after suppertime with her dear parents, and while she wished with all of her heart they lived closer, she knew that as long as they were alive, she would eagerly look forward to coming to see them.

  Maggie was thankful for Aunt Nellie that day, glad she and Grace were over next door making supper together. The three youngest children were in the stable grooming the horses, staying out of trouble, like Dat had told them before leaving with Rachel for Myerstown.

  Maggie had been enjoying the solitude there in the front room on the sofa, where long afternoon sunbeams filtered in through the window. Having dosed up on two aspirin after the noon meal, she was able to read her Bible without being too distracted by the now-muted pain.

  It wasn’t long and she heard footsteps overhead, then a door closing upstairs. Evidently, Leroy had gone to the attic like Rachel had earlier requested.

  Soon, Maggie had her answer. Leroy came into the room holding a white half apron. “S’pose this is the one she wanted?” he asked, lifting it up with his thumb and pointer finger, like it was contaminated or something.

  Maggie tried not to smile. “Why’re ya holdin’ it like that?”

  “Well, smell it.” He came over and held it near her face.

  “Puh! Mothballs!”

  Leroy nodded and dropped it to the floor, his hands on his hips. “It was in that big, dusty hope chest with a bunch of other housewares and whatnot.”

  Maggie had known about the oak chest that Dat had stored in the attic when Rachel moved into the house—Rachel’s idea.

  “Wonder why she ain’t usin’ her own things.” Leroy picked up the white apron and laid it across the back of the nearby chair.

  “Just think ’bout it,” Maggie said softly. “Because she’s using Mamm’s, ’specially in the kitchen.”

  Leroy’s face went blank.

  “It’s also probably why she hasn’t moved a single piece of furniture.”

  Leroy frowned and looked toward the window as if he’d never realized this before. “Brides are s’posed to have new things, though. . . .”

  “Do ya know why Rachel kept the house—and the kitchen—exactly the way it was?” She held her breath.

  Scrunching up his face, Leroy said, “I guess she didn’t want us to forget Mamm.” He looked downright miserable.

  Maggie nodded slowly. “Jah.”

  Turning, Leroy picked up the white apron and carried it out to the kitchen. She could hear the door to the cold cellar open, and Leroy running downstairs, where the wringer washer was kept. Undoubtedly, he was putting the apron in the laundry basket for Rachel.

  When Leroy returned to the front room, he just stood there. “Why didn’t ya tell me sooner?” he asked.

  Maggie shifted in the sofa. “Would it have made a difference?”

  “I’d like to think so.” He paused and sat down on the chair across from her, leaning forward with his hands on either side of his head. He sighed heavily, as if bearing the weight of his past behavior. “Ach, Maggie . . .”

  “It’s not too late to make a change in the right direction,” she said, echoing one of Mamm’s favorite pieces of advice.

  He lifted his head and looked over at her. “Mamm would want me to, ain’t?”

  “For your sake, Bruder.”

  Leroy offered to get her some cold water, then rose quickly to go to the kitchen.

  Maggie waited till her brother left before she let her tears come. Tears of joy and gratitude.

  All will surely be well. . . .

  33

  Days passed, then weeks, and soon it was the final baptismal class with the ministerial brethren, on the second
Sunday in September. It was a pleasant sort of day, with hints of autumn touching the landscape, and the green meadow grasses showing glints of gold.

  Maggie used her walker to get around, thankful this last class was held in the summer kitchen on the main level, instead of upstairs. She had a feeling the ministers had planned it that way for her sake. So helpful and kind, she thought of them.

  The older of the two preachers moved methodically around the room, giving each candidate the opportunity to choose to consent to joining church the twenty-third of September, or to change his or her mind. It was an age-old tradition Maggie’s mother had shared with her several years ago, when they’d discussed the importance of baptism.

  Every one of the candidates ahead of Maggie was quick to agree to follow the Lord in holy baptism in two weeks, and Maggie wholeheartedly agreed as well, but the girl next to her said she wasn’t ready to make the lifelong vow. Maggie’s heart went out to her as she looked down at her lap, where she was clenching her hands.

  “’Tis better not to make the lifelong vow than to do so and go back on it,” the preacher said. “I pray you’ll choose to be baptized at a later time.”

  All of the fellows, however, agreed, which was hardly surprising when nearly all of them had a serious girlfriend. After their baptism, most of the fellows would marry during the wedding season that started in November and ran into December.

  Later, when all of them lined up to go into the Preaching service, Maggie realized that Jimmy had seemed especially serious during the instruction today, not even cracking a smile, though he had nodded his head in greeting to her before the class. Maggie appreciated his sincerity and studious nature, for certain. At times, he reminded her of Dat.

  In the weeks since her health setback, Maggie had ceased going to Singings and other youth activities, including the evening volleyball games, not because she didn’t treasure the fellowship, but because it was too much effort. She felt safer at home, and while Grace missed her, of course, she seemed to understand.