Missing Your Smile

by Jerry S. Eicher

  Menno glanced up as movement came from the house. Esther and Betsy, John’s wife, were returning with two plastic water buckets, washcloths, and towels. They ran across the lawn, their faces red from the rush and the weight of the buckets. Setting the water down, they knelt on either side of Miriam. She held Jonas’s arm as they dipped the washcloths into the soapy water and squeezed the liquid over the boy’s injured arm.

  “Will it hurt more?” Jonas asked between moans.

  “No worse than it already does,” Miriam said. “We have to clean the cuts.”

  “We’d better do something about this finger first.” Esther held Jonas’s hand by the wrist. “It’s going to hurt worse if we don’t.”

  “Is it broken?” John asked.

  “I don’t know,” Esther said, holding her hands over Jonas’s eyes and whispering to the others. “It’s definitely not right.” She stroked Jonas’s hair.

  “Should we leave that for the doctor?” Betsy asked.

  That is a good point, Menno thought, looking around the group. Someone needs to call a driver, and the sooner the better. Esther’s husband, Henry, caught his glance and nodded. Without a word he ran to the barn. He’d take care of it. Few men were better at getting things done than Henry.

  “Cleaning is the problem,” Miriam was saying. “But you’d better straighten the finger, even if it’s broken.”

  Jonas whimpered, burying his head in his mamm’s chest.

  “Just do it.” Miriam whispered as she held her hand over Jonas’s eyes this time.

  “The men had better do this.” Esther stood up. Betsy stayed down, holding Jonas’s arm.

  John grasped the boy’s palm.

  Jonas seemed to have stopped breathing.

  John jerked the boy’s finger hard.

  Jonas screamed, digging his face deeper into his mamm’s chest.

  “There now. It’s done,” John said, releasing the hand.

  Betsy continued to hold the arm, lifting it for the others to see the straightened finger.

  “It wasn’t broken, I think,” John said. “Just out of joint.”

  Henry’s wagon rattled down the driveway past them. His hand on his hat, Henry clutched the lines with his right hand. He was likely heading for the nearest phone shack and would be back with a driver soon.

  “Okay, here we go.” Esther knelt down again, dipping one of the washcloths in water and gently moving it over the punctured skin. Betsy did the same on the other side of the hand.

  Jonas had his eyes open now as Miriam stroked his forehead. The two women worked, allowing the soapy water to run into the wounds and working the blood and slobber off. At times Jonas flinched, and they would pause, continuing with the task when his whimpers died down.

  “We need fresh water,” Esther announced, looking around the circle.

  Two of the older teenage girls took off running toward the house.

  Menno fidgeted. There must be something he could do. He looked at the sow still in the crate. She was grunting, her nose in the air, seemingly satisfied with herself.

  “You won’t live long now!” Menno vowed with a glare. Several of the boys smiled but sobered when Jonas screamed again.

  “That bite is pretty deep…and the one over here,” Betsy whispered. “I hope the driver gets here soon.”

  “Henry will find one,” John said.

  Betsy nodded.

  Across the lawn the two girls came running back with fresh water, soap suds rolling over the top of the buckets. Menno smiled at the sight in spite of Jonas’s continued whimpering. The girls must have dumped in extra soap in their haste, but that was better than not enough.

  On the ground, Betsy and Esther exchanged the water buckets, and the cleansing continued.

  A pickup truck soon rattled into the driveway. Old Mr. Davis, a neighbor from down the road, was driving. Mr. Davis jumped out of the truck and ran over to the circle.

  They all turned to look at him.

  “Henry found me in the field, and told me what happened. Where are we taking the boy?”

  “You’d better take him to Louisville, to the children’s hospital,” Miriam said. “He looks like he doesn’t need more than stitches and cleaning up, but I don’t know. These are hog bites. I’d feel better if we took him someplace other than Scott Memorial in Salem.”

  Heads nodded.

  The men lifted Jonas and carried him over to the truck. Miriam and her husband, Joe, spoke in whispers for a few minutes. Apparently the decision of who should go was made between them. Miriam walked with Joe to the truck. She climbed into the passenger’s side and pulled Jonas tightly against her shoulder. Joe shut the door and said something before stepping back as Mr. Davis took off.

  “Okay!” John shouted as the truck turned onto the main road. “Everyone back to what they were doing. We have a long day ahead of us. And boys, keep away from the hogs—even if they look harmless!”

  Most of the boys hung their heads, their hats tipped low over their faces.

  “Now,” John turned back to Menno, “it looks like you get to butcher your hog first.”

  “Yah!” Menno said. He had no problem with that. Someone handed him the twenty-two rifle, and they all backed away. Walking up to the crate, he pushed the barrel close to the sow’s head and fired. Vengeance of sorts—the kind that didn’t belong to Da Hah, he figured as he handed the gun back to Edna’s oldest boy.

  “The water’s hot,” John hollered from the water trough.

  “Come!” Menno said, picking up the spring wagon shafts. He steered while the boys pushed, backing up to within a foot of the steaming water. They attached ropes and pulled the sow out, lowering her into the trough. In one side and out the other she went, the scalding water splashing as the trough nearly tipped over.

  They heaved the sow up onto a wooden picnic table that creaked under the weight. Starting on each end with knives held on edge, they peeled the hair off. The day’s real work had begun.

  “Come on! We’re already late!” John hollered, as more picnic tables were brought over.

  The women came with their kettles and then separated the meat into piles. A grinder was brought out, the gasoline engine attached to a belt. Two boys fed the meat in while Betsy watched.

  “Keep your fingers away from the auger!” Betsy repeated the words in a chant. “We don’t want fingers lost today,” she added at times. “One accident today is enough.”

  John stoked the fire as more hogs were brought and drug through the scalding water. Intestines were taken out and turned inside out on the grassy lawn. Scrubbers were assigned, and they went to work on a picnic table, brushing down the future sausage tubes.

  “I can help here,” Menno offered, approaching the red-faced boys working on the intestines. Grateful hands offered him their scrub brushes.

  Betsy intervened. “Nothing doing!” she ordered from her place at the head of the meat grinder. “If Grandpap wants to help, there’s another brush over there in the grass.”

  Menno laughed as the boys groaned.

  “I’m never eating sausage again. Not ever in my lifetime,” one of them muttered, taking his brush up again.

  “Hah! Come winter,” Menno said, “you boys will be eating with the rest of us. This memory will be long gone.”

  “I suppose so,” the boy said. “But it sure looks awful now. Pig guts… phew!”

  “Surely you knew where sausage came from?” one of the others said with a laugh.

  “Knowing and seeing are two different things,” the boy said. “Do you ever get used to this when you’re older, Grandpap?”

  “I suppose so.” Menno shrugged. “I don’t think about it anymore. I just bite into Anna’s delicious sausage on cold winter mornings and I think, ‘My, this couldn’t be better!’”

  They all laughed and scrubbed away.

  By lunchtime the lawn lay littered with meat, blood, hair, and sausages in various stages. They all washed their hands in a basin set outside by the wa
shroom door and then filled their plates with the prepared lunch fixings. They ate under the shade of the oak trees.

  “I’m going down to call Miriam,” Joe said, getting to this feet. “She should have been back by now.”

  “I’m sure Jonas is okay,” John assured him.

  But we would all do the same had it been one of our children, Menno thought. He watched Joe leave moments later, his shoulders squared as he drove his buggy out the driveway. Da Hah had given him gut sons-in-law—all of them. Only Susan remained single, but that was best not to think about right now.

  When lunch was finished, the work resumed while the younger girls took the remaining lunch food back into the house.

  Joe returned, and he unhitched his buggy by the barn.

  “What’s up?” John hollered to him.

  Joe didn’t answer until he had the horse in the barn and approached the group. They all turned to listen when he cleared his throat. “The doctors have worked on Jonas, Miriam said, cleaning up things. Sounds like the danger of infection will be the biggest problem. They want to keep him overnight so they can keep tabs on his wounds and make sure there’s no infection.”

  “Do you need to leave?” John asked. “We can bring your share of the meat over this evening.”

  Joe shook his head. “Miriam will stay with him for the night, and Mr. Davis is back home already. He offered to take me down tonight after the chores.”

  “Not really bad news, but still bad enough,” John said.

  “I know,” Joe said. “We can be thankful it wasn’t worse. Now, where can I help?”

  John waved toward the meat grinder. “You could give the boys a break. They’ve been hard at it.”

  Smiles covered the faces of the boys.

  “Aw, it’s not that bad,” Joe teased. “Let me see what I can do.”

  They stepped aside and threw themselves onto the grass, flailing their arms in gestures of mock exhaustion.

  Betsy laughed, but let them be. She turned and walked toward the house, taking a bowl of ground meat with her. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she said over her shoulder. “You boys aren’t going to lay on the grass all afternoon, right?”

  They all groaned their reply but were happy to be relieved even for a short time.

  By four o’clock everything was done, the meat divided, and the area cleaned up. They all had home chores ahead of them, except for Menno. Sure, he had to feed the horses, but that didn’t keep a person’s mind occupied for very long.

  Menno sighed as he took the hog crate off the spring wagon and washed out the bottom with the garden hose. He helped Anna load the tubs of meat, and they readied to leave. We will eat well this winter, he thought, holding the horse while Anna climbed in.

  He pulled himself onto the wagon bench seat, took the reins from Anna, and hollered, “Get-up.” The horse set out at a brisk pace.

  “It’s been quite a day,” Anna said as they went out the driveway.

  “Yah. Too bad Jonas had to get hurt.”

  “We need to write Susan and tell her what happened.”

  “You can do that,” Menno said with a shrug.

  “She might come home,” Anna said.

  Menno looked at her and shook his head. “No, I forbid it. Jonas will be fine. You won’t go making things sound worse to Susan than they are. That’s not right.”

  “But Jonas could get a bad infection,” Anna insisted. “You heard Joe say so yourself.”

  “He’s in the hospital, under a doctor’s care. You will not ask Susan to come home unless there is good reason for it. As of now, there is no reason.”

  “But she’s our daughter!” Anna said, her fingers clutching the side rail of the buggy seat as the horse and wagon turned a corner.

  “I know,” Menno said. “But nothing gut comes out of tricks like that. Susan would figure it out once she got back. I say that if Susan comes home, it will be by her own free will.”

  After a silence, Anna agreed, teary-eyed. “You’re right. I know you are.”

  “Yah,” Menno said. He was crying too—only on the inside.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Susan stood at the front window of the apartment, the early morning racket from the street a dull roar below her. There was so much to do! Did she dare move so quickly? Making all these big changes? Yah! she thought, these were big changes, but life was taking her in this direction. If she held back, her chance might never come again.

  Laura had been kind enough to allow her the day off, so she ought to be thankful and enjoy it instead of spending it worrying. Yet how did a person keep from worrying with so many verbotten things she planned to do. There was getting a driver’s license and working for a GED certificate—both of which were forbidden by the church Ordnung. But the church Ordnung was now far from her. She needn’t be worried about the church rules anymore…but she was. The letter from her mamm hadn’t helped.

  “I’m not exactly Amish anymore,” she said to the window glass. “It’s just that Amish doesn’t go away so easily.” Susan turned away from the street with a sigh. She would get ready for this day off. There were questions to ask at the college about taking the GED test. That might even be fun. Robby would be driving her around. He had also picked up the state’s driver’s manual earlier in the week for her. Nothing had looked too difficult as Susan studied it the last few evenings. All this help was likely Laura’s doing, even though she made the plans sound accidental. Like Robby just happened to have time to drive her around today.

  She also needed to shop for a new dress. The special night with Duane was tomorrow night. The thought made her catch her breath. She could wear one of her current dresses, but nee, that wouldn’t work. They all looked, well, Amish. They wouldn’t do for an evening with Mr. Moran…Duane.

  Duane…He wasn’t at all like Thomas. He’d stopped by the bakery a few times since their lunch together. But he never said anything more about the dinner invitation. In the few minutes while waiting on him, he would smile and make conversation like usual. He acted as if he had forgotten his own suggestion.

  The tension the man caused was enough to make goose bumps burst out all the way down her arms. She had been ready to tell him when she saw him again that nee, she couldn’t go after all. She had expected him to bring the subject up the first morning she saw him after the diner outing, but he hadn’t said a word. And when he did finally bring it up, she had agreed to go. It’s perfectly understandable, she decided, considering all that charm he exuded.

  Thomas wasn’t like Duane at all. He blurted out words and let the sticks fall where they would. Did that come from being Amish? Perhaps. Or maybe Thomas was just plain clumsy? Or maybe just pushy. Forcing his way around like he owned the world. Well, it didn’t matter. Thomas was in love with Eunice. He could have her! She wanted nothing more to do with the man or her former best friend. Let them both go fly a kite.

  Pulling her thoughts back into the present, Susan looked around. Now what to do about the letter from home lying on the table? She had read through it again last night. The news was troubling, to say the least. Susan walked over and picked the envelope up again. She took the letter out and unfolded the paper. Her eyes scanned the words. What was Mamm saying? She never quite knew with her—or maybe it was this way with all Amish people. They said something, but a person couldn’t be sure if the words were to be taken at face value.

  Dear Susan,

  Greetings in the name of Da Hah. I hope as always this finds you well and happy. I wish you would come home, but your daett and I are trying to understand. Laura must be a sweet lady. Please thank her for us—that she is taking such good care of you.

  Yesterday we had our day of butchering at John and Betsy’s place. We came home with the spring wagon loaded, and now we have plenty of meat for the winter. Your daett is worried we have too much, but meat is an easy thing to get rid of.

  The day contained quite a bit of excitement. Menno tried to burn down the barn while he was doin
g morning chores. Not that he really did, but he forgot to properly put out the match. He’s getting old, I guess. He tossed it on the barn floor near some straw. His first attempts at putting the fire out only drove the flames deeper into the pile. I came out at his call for help, bringing some of my quilts along, and helped him smother the fire. Don’t worry, we can make more quilts. Much easier than building a new barn!

  We got to John and Betsy’s place with that mean sow—you remember her, I think, since you helped raise the piglet. She always had the nastiest temper. Anyway, Menno left her sitting in the crate on the back of the spring wagon. One of Miriam’s boys, Jonas, got his arm bit pretty badly when the boys took it upon themselves to unload her. Jonas had to stay in the hospital overnight. We haven’t heard anything more. I suppose he’ll be okay, as the doctor didn’t say otherwise.

  Please be thinking of us often, as we are of you. And may Da Hah keep you safe. We are praying.

  With much love, your mamm

  “Well,” Susan said out loud, “obviously Mamm wants me to come home.” Of course, she knew that already, but Mamm was thinking of something a little more permanent than a quick visit. Should I go home for a visit? No, not yet. Too much is going on right now. And it would be hard to get back into moving forward later.

  She needed to write back…or better yet, call just in case Jonas had taken a turn for the worse. Hog bites could be quite serious. She could try the phone shack at Edna and Jacob’s place and see if anyone answered.

  A loud knock came from the door downstairs and interrupted her thoughts. Susan jumped. Robby! And she wasn’t quite ready. Well, he could wait, but not down there. She raced down the steps and jerked open the front door.

  “Hi, Miss Sunshine,” he said.

  He stood there, his shoulder against the doorframe, a look of great patience on his face. “Your buggy awaits you, oh great Amish princess.”

  “Footman,” she said, drawing out the word, teasing him. “You must wait while I finish preparing for the journey.”

  “You look ready to me,” he said.

  “Well, I’m not, so come upstairs and wait.”