Abiding Mercy

by Ruth Reid

  “Hiya, Faith,” Lois said.

  Alice donned an apron. “We kumm to lend a hand.”

  Catherine came around the refrigerator with a bowl of shredded potatoes. “We have extra help today. Isn’t it wunderbaar?”

  Faith smiled. “Jah, danki.” The bell over the front door jingled, drawing her attention back to the dining room.

  Following Faith, Gideon recognized the local coffee drinkers as the Englischers headed to the round table.

  Faith started filling coffee mugs as more locals arrived. “Gideon, I’ll be okay.”

  “I, ah . . .” The blueberry plants and apple orchard needed watering, yet he wanted her to give him a reason to stay.

  She lifted her brow. “You don’t have to hover over me.”

  “I’m hovering nau?” He leaned back as if offended and exaggerated a frown. Hearing her soft chuckle brought a smile to his face. “I’ll see you tonight—that is, if you still want me to drive you home?”

  Her cheeks turned rosy. “Jah, I’ll see you later.”

  Midafternoon, Faith was refilling coffee mugs at the corner table when a man she’d never seen before entered the restaurant. He removed his Tigers baseball cap, exposing gray thinning hair, and took the table in the back of the room next to the window.

  Faith returned the coffeepot to the warmer, then took the newcomer a menu. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Coffee please.”

  She went back to the waitress station, filled a mug with coffee, then brought it to the man. “Do you need a few more minutes?”

  “I’m ready.” He closed the menu. “I’ll have two eggs over medium, bacon, and potato pancakes.”

  “The potato pancakes come with our special sour cream and cheese sauce, is that okay?”

  “Can I have it on the side, please?”

  “Of course.” Faith noted the request, then collected his menu.

  The doorbell jingled and more customers entered. “Sit anywhere you like. I’ll be with you in just a minute.” Faith went into the kitchen, tore off the carbon copy, and handed the yellow slip to Catherine. “Sauce on the side, please.”

  “Are you getting busy?” Alice asked.

  “It’s starting to pick up a little.” Faith wished it was busier. The restaurant didn’t generate much revenue on just coffee drinkers and, outside of the recent newcomers, it’d been slow. She returned to the dining room and waited on the new table of customers.

  A short time later, Catherine dinged the cook’s bell announcing the meal was ready for pickup. Faith gathered the dishes, then served the man gazing out the window. She placed the meal before him. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  He eyed the food. “This looks great.”

  “I hope you enjoy.”

  More customers arrived. It didn’t take long before the restaurant was crowded. Faith tended to the tables and then walked the coffeepot around the room and refilled people’s mugs.

  “These are the best eggs I’ve ever eaten,” the gray-haired man seated at the window seat said when she returned to his table.

  “Thank you. I gathered them this morning.”

  “Farm fresh, that’s wonderful.”

  “I baked the bread today, and the potatoes are locally grown,” she added.

  He pushed the plate aside. “I’ll take another order.”

  “Of eggs?”

  “All of it.” He took a sip of coffee, then extended the mug for her to refill.

  She’d never had anyone reorder a complete breakfast. Catherine would be pleased the man liked his food enough to order seconds. She rushed his request into the kitchen, loaded a tray with meals that were ready, and served the other customers. Catherine took no time to prepare another plate for the hungry man.

  “Ma’am,” he said, fiddling with his phone, “would you mind if I take your picture with the food? I’m a reporter for the Detroit News doing a story on back-road getaways and local small-town restaurants. I would love to feature your farm-fresh eggs and potato pancakes in one of my articles.”

  “Sorry, but we don’t believe in having our pictures taken.” She omitted reciting the verse in Exodus about why her people didn’t believe in graven images. Although she was ready to give an account for her beliefs if the question arose, as it often did.

  “I understand,” the man said with a heavy sigh. “Is it all right if I take pictures of the food? I’d still like to feature your restaurant.”

  “Be mei guest.” Had she known the food would be in the newspaper, she would have put a sprig of parsley on the plate to give it some color, but at least the egg yolks were bright yellow. A sure sign the chickens had gotten into the marigolds again.

  The man snapped several pictures, taking time to arrange the utensils and paper place mat. After several minutes fussing with the food and jotting notes on a small notepad, he put his pen down and started to eat.

  “Is the reorder as gut as the first?” She filled his mug with more coffee.

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’m impressed. I think my readers will be too.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell the cook.”

  “I eat a lot of meals out, and I haven’t come across a place yet that serves farm-fresh eggs collected the same morning. You should consider adding that information to the menu.” He handed her one of his business cards. “On the back you’ll find the date the article should appear in the paper. You’ll find it in the Life-Home section.”

  Faith glanced at the information. They would need to raise more chickens if they were to supply all the eggs needed for the restaurant. As it was, she’d only brought them in to use so they wouldn’t go to waste at home. But he’d given her a lot to think about. If farm-fresh eggs brought more customers in, then perhaps her mother would consider it. Then again, she might be upset Faith allowed pictures to be taken at all.

  All five of Gideon’s brothers and their wives and children came for supper at Gideon’s mother’s house. In addition to his family, Bishop Zook and Alice were there also. Faith sat between Claudia and Phoebe, two of his sisters-in-law, each of them balancing a baby on her lap. Faith glanced across the table at Gideon, who looked ill at ease with the situation. Head down, he quickly ate his roast beef and mashed potatoes.

  His mother passed Faith the bowl of peas. “Are you working six days a week?”

  “Jah, but I don’t mind. This is our busy season.” Faith placed a spoonful of peas on her plate, then passed the bowl to Claudia.

  “How’s your father doing?”

  “He’s making progress. The physical therapist has taught him exercises for his leg and once home health is set up, he’s supposed to be released.”

  The questions continued, first about Faith’s parents’ health, how she and Olivia were coping, then his mother brought up the robbery.

  “You must have been terrified having a gun to your head.”

  “Mamm, please,” Gideon said.

  Faith appreciated his effort to stifle the conversation, but it didn’t help once his sisters-in-law chimed in.

  “I don’t know what I would have done,” Claudia said.

  “Me either,” Phoebe added.

  “I was scared.” Faith took a drink of milk. With tomorrow being Sunday, everyone would want to know the details. She might as well get used to answering questions.

  “This was a delicious meal, Elma,” Alice said.

  “Danki.” Gideon’s mother slid her chair back. “I’ll get the dessert.”

  Alice stood. “Let me help.”

  The brothers’ topic shifted to crops and Claudia and Phoebe chatted about babies. Faith stole a glance across the table at Gideon, who was chasing peas around on his plate with his spoon. Listening to the multiple conversations going on at the same time, she couldn’t help but wish her family was larger. Sometimes she and Olivia hardly spoke to one another at the table. Most of their family conversations were about the restaurant.

  When supper
ended, Faith helped gather the dishes with the other women.

  “It’s been wunderbaar getting to know you better,” Claudia said.

  “You too.” Faith was easily ten years younger than Gideon’s older brothers’ wives, and even though they all belonged to the same church district, she didn’t know much about them.

  It didn’t take long to reddy-up the kitchen. Bishop Zook and Alice were the first to leave since church services would be held at their place in the morning.

  Gideon cleared his throat. “If you’re ready to go,” he said to Faith, motioning to the door.

  “Jah, sure.” Faith folded the dish towel and set it on the counter, then turned to his mother. “Danki for inviting me to supper.”

  “I’ve enjoyed having you,” Elma said. “I hope Gideon will bring you over again soon.”

  Faith smiled as Gideon’s cheeks shaded a deeper red. He looked as if he’d been in the sun all day.

  Gideon cleared his throat again. “Ready?”

  She nodded, excused herself, and followed him out the door.

  He strode to the barn and stopped at his buggy parked by the fence. “Would you like to take a walk?”

  One minute he wanted to leave, the next he wanted to stay.

  Gideon motioned toward the cornfield. “Mei apple orchard is just beyond the corn. Do you want to check out the fruit?”

  “Okay.” She followed him into the tall corn. “I thought you were in a hurry to leave.”

  He kicked at a clump of dirt. “Jah, to get out of the haus.”

  “Why?”

  “There you go with your why questions again.” Gideon took off running, leaving corn husks waving in his wake.

  “Hey, wait up.” She ran after him.

  Once she caught up, he slowed his pace. “Mei family is a little overwhelming at times, but I’m glad you came.”

  “A lively supper table is certainly better than awkward silence, which is often the case between Olivia and me. In fact, I want to have a large family one day.” Faith wasn’t sure what prompted her to share her dreams, but she was comfortable talking with Gideon about almost anything.

  As the orchard came into view, her gaze caught on chicken wire. “Why are some of your trees fenced?”

  “In the springtime I put chickens in the pen. They eat pests like codling moths and beetles that overwinter in the debris. A few weeks of scratching around and feasting on insects, the chickens save the fruit trees from damage. I’d keep them here all season to keep the bugs down if they didn’t tend to overfertilize the trees. That and having chickens this far away from the haus tends to draw foxes out of the woods.”

  “I never thought about wild animals. I’m sure the wire fence keeps the deer from nibbling on the tree bark and branches.”

  He nodded. “Deer, yes, but not the elk.”

  She canvassed the area with her gaze. “Your orchard is larger than I thought.”

  “It’s taken several years.” Gideon inspected a branch of apples. “Ginger Golds have a mild tart flavor. I press these into apple cider.”

  “Can I try one?”

  “Sure.”

  She plucked a light-green apple from the branch and rubbed it on her hip, then took a big bite. The tartness instantly wrinkled her nose and mouth.

  “Makes your lips pucker, doesn’t it.” He chuckled.

  Faith swallowed hard, the sourness watering her eyes. “You said it was mildly tart.”

  “It is.” Gideon shrugged. “It won’t be ripe for another month. The skin will turn yellowish when it’s ready.”

  “And you couldn’t warn me?” She blotted her mouth with her dress sleeve.

  “I wanted to see your mouth pucker.” A broad grin spread across his face. He moved over to the next row. “These are Honeycrisps. They’re sweet, crisp, and great for pies, sauces, or snacking on. They don’t ripen until September.”

  She studied the apples. “I thought waxiness was something growers did for shipping fruit to the market, but these look shiny on their own.”

  “They have a natural wax. God’s way of protecting the apples’ water content. If they didn’t have that waxy layer, apples wouldn’t be crisp or moist. They’d turn soft and be more prone to insects. But you are right that growers wash and remove field dirt and, in the process, remove the natural wax. Many of the large growers rewax them prior to going to market so they last longer.”

  “You know a lot about apples,” she said.

  “I’ve done mei research.” He motioned to her partially eaten apple. “You can toss that.”

  She studied it a moment, then pitched it down the grove. “One day you’ll have a Ginger Gold tree growing amongst the Honeycrisps.”

  “Maybe. The orchard off the old railroad trail you walk was thought to be started by loggers spitting seeds and discarding cores.”

  She nodded. “You told me that once before, Mr. Walking Encyclopedia.”

  “Is that a compliment or are you calling me a know-it-all?”

  Faith hesitated, pretending to size him up with her eyes. “A compliment.”

  He playfully blew out a noisy breath. “You had me worried.”

  “Oh, stop.” She nudged his arm with her shoulder. “You’re nett concerned with mei thoughts.”

  He smiled. “More than you know.”

  Hearing a songbird, Faith scanned the area. A silvery gray titmouse flitted through the canopy of branches and rested on the end of a twig. Faith found the walk with Gideon through his orchard peaceful. “I love daylight savings time, don’t you?”

  “Jah, but we should head back. The mosquitoes will be out in droves any minute.” He swatted at one on his arm.

  “Race you to the buggy.” Faith took off running, but he was quick to catch up. He paced her until they reached the edge of the yard, then he hung back, letting her reach the buggy first. “You let me win.”

  “You didn’t tap the buggy yet,” he said, jogging past her. He went into the barn and a few moments later came out with the harness draped over his shoulder and leading Bay by the halter.

  Faith helped him put the equipment on, fastening the buckle around the girth and slipping the reins through the metal rings.

  “All set?” He opened the buggy door.

  She climbed in and scooted over, making room for him on the bench. On the drive home, brilliant red, yellow, and orange colors filled the sky. The end of a perfect day. It was dark by the time they rolled into her yard. Faith noticed lights on in the house about the same time Gideon was pointing it out.

  “Someone’s home.” He set the brake.

  “Might be Liv.”

  Gideon jumped out, then held his arm out so she stayed behind him. “Let me go first.” He peeked in the window at the same time the door opened.

  “Mamm!” Faith rushed to her mother and hugged her. She felt frail in Faith’s arms. “I didn’t know you were being released from the hospital.”

  “We wanted to surprise you, but as it turned out, you surprised us when we didn’t find you home.”

  Faith’s stomach knotted. Once word spread about her parents being home, news about the robbery would reach Mamm and Daed. Faith glanced at Gideon, then at her mother. “I need to tell you about what happened at the restaurant.”

  Chapter 23

  In the past three weeks since her parents returned home, they still appeared frail despite Faith’s prayers for their ongoing recovery. Mamm’s weight loss gave her a washed-out, gaunt appearance, and Daed, whose leg cast had confined him to the house, was in pain and often frustrated with his inability to move around freely. Being unable to care for his livestock had seemed to somehow age him. Most days he sat quietly in the sitting room, gazing out the window. Thankfully, Gideon had volunteered to continue doing the barn chores, and he gave Daed a regular update on what calves were ready to be weaned and other important farming matters.

  Faith worked hard around the house and at the restaurant so her mother could relax. Then, that morning, as Faith
was getting ready for work, Mamm asked her to stay home and watch over Daed. The restaurant bookkeeping was two months behind, and now that it was the beginning of August, Mamm insisted it couldn’t be neglected any longer. Had Faith been trained to do the end-of-the-month spreadsheets and tallies, she would have tried to convince her mother to let her do it, but as it was, even if she studied the previous months’ entries, catching up both June and July would be a daunting task.

  Faith didn’t mind staying home with her father for the day. Especially since Gideon was part of the work crew who had come early to put up her father’s hay. Arriving shortly after breakfast, the men had gone directly to the field and worked steadily all morning.

  Faith gazed out the kitchen window at the workers in the field and spotted Gideon stacking hay on the wagons. Make hay while the sun shines was something she’d grown up hearing. It was certainly sunny. The August sun loomed hot in the cloudless blue sky. The kitchen was hot, too, with her having baked cookies all morning. Normally, she baked sweets at the restaurant and brought them home, but the cookie jar was almost empty and she wanted to offer all the workers a treat after the noon meal.

  The men trudged across the field toward the barn, heads down. Leaving the hay wagons where they had stopped working, they brought the five-mule team to the barn to water and tie in the shade. Gideon went to the water pump. Distracted by Gideon splashing well water on his face, she continued to gaze at him as he combed his fingers through his damp hair. Her mind drifted to the day they’d spent at the river.

  Boots stomped outside the window as the men kicked off the dirt before entering the house. While the men greeted Daed, she raced around the kitchen, placing spoons next to the potato salad. She set a plate stacked with cheese sandwiches on one side of the table, and a plate with sliced bread on the opposite side for those who wanted a cucumber, onion, or tomato sandwich instead.

  Gideon meandered into the kitchen. “Hiya, Faith.” His gaze went to the cookies cooling on the rack. “Those look gut.”