Little Wild Flower Book Two

by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  “So that means I can go up there when they come down.”

  “Nicht.”

  “But you just said that I could if…”

  “Halten argumentieren,” Elijah interrupted.

  “Yes, Papa.”

  Jakob hung his head slightly and leaned on the ladder that was propped up against the barn. He felt bad for arguing with his father, but he couldn’t help feeling jealous of his older brothers for being able to do more than he was allowed. He figured that he wasn’t wanted on the roof because of his age and didn’t like the idea of being given excuses. For now, he would have to be content with fetching tools for the others.

  At noon, when they came down to have their dinner, Jakob tried Elijah one last time.

  “The roof is fixed. We’re done now.”

  “Then why is the ladder still there?” he asked, whining.

  “First we need to eat the food that your mam prepared. We’ll clean up and put the tools away when we’re through. I could use your help with putting things away, son.”

  “Couldn’t I go fishing’ instead Papa?” he begged.

  “I suppose you would rather fish than do extra chores, jah?” he asked.

  “Yes sir,” the child admitted.

  Elijah and the boys ate quickly—there was a lot more to be done before the sun went down. The barn roof was repaired, they informed me, but the tiller had a broken tine that would take most of the remainder of the day to repair according to Elijah. The crew took a jug of water with them so they wouldn’t have to run to the well every time they needed a drink. The weather was warming, causing all of us to want extra water to cool us down.

  After the dishes were put away, Abigail tended to Eva while I checked the bed linens that were hanging on the outside line to dry. From the clothesline, I had a clear view of the barn, and I stood still for a moment admiring the work of my boys as they helped their father. Elijah was still on the barn roof gathering tools when I noticed Simon hanging the ladder on the side of the barn. I put the sheet that I had folded into the wicker basket, and began to walk toward the barn. My intention was to have Simon replace the ladder so his father could get down from the roof of the barn. Before I could take more than a few steps away from the clothesline, however, I spotted Elijah hanging a foot over the edge to feel for the ladder.

  “Elijah,” I screamed as I ran toward him, but I was still too far off for him to heed my warning.

  I continued to scream as I ran toward him, but before I could reach him, he lost his footing and fell from the peak of the barn roof.

  “Oh, God, no!” I cried as I rushed to his side

  I knelt down beside my lifeless husband, and put an ear to his chest, relieved to hear the familiar beating of his heart. His breathing was shallow and each breath seemed to come with great effort.

  “Eli,” I screamed for my oldest son.

  When he approached us, his face was pale, but he knew without a word from me that Dr. Beiler was needed at once. He ran for his horse in the field and hopped on bareback and took off toward the direction of my parent’s home to have them phone the doctor. Simon and Abigail assisted me in getting their father into the house and onto our bed.

  I already knew my husband’s condition was life threatening, though I knew very little about medicine. I shook as I clung to his hand. I tried to pray, but could scarcely get the words out of my mouth. My jaw felt heavy as I uttered words of desperation toward God. Elijah’s breathing became labored as a small spot of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. I quickly wiped it away with the hankie from my apron pocket before the children caught sight of it, then, asked them to leave the room.

  From outside came the faint sound of horses’ hooves traveling down the hill toward the house. Relief clouded my thoughts as the sound of them came closer, giving me a sense that all would be well when the doctor would enter the room to care for my husband. Elijah opened his eyes and tried to speak, but I quieted him, assuring him the doctor was on his way. His eyes suddenly turned dark. They were no longer the sparkling blue that they had always been. He made another attempt to speak, and I could see in his desperate eyes that he needed to tell me something

  “I love you my little wild flower,” he whispered with his final breath, as a tear rolled down his cheek.

  Elijah closed his eyes and I knew then he had drifted off to ever-lasting peace. His hand fell limp in my own, but I held it tight, pretending for just a moment that he hadn’t slipped away from me. My heart gave way to coldness, and became somewhat unresponsive as though the reality had come over me like a hostile draft in sub-zero weather.

  For several minutes, his voice lingered in the air, silently teasing me with its prospect of return. My thoughts turned to face the reality of what had happened, as I laid my head down on Elijah’s quiet chest, trying desperately to convince myself I could still hear his heart beating. The familiar heartbeat was gone, leaving me with nothing but silence. My weeping very quickly turned to sobbing—uncontrollable sobbing. Already, I felt the emptiness rising in me, but I quickly stifled the emotion in fear that it would alert my children to what had happened. Knowing that I was not yet ready to face them, I quieted my sorrow and held it in check before any of them would come and see that their father had left them without saying good-bye.

  Suddenly, Eva rushed into the room. Upon seeing her father with closed eyes, she stopped in her tracks and clamped a hand over her mouth to hush herself.

  “Papa sleepy, Mam?” she questioned in her innocence.

  “Oh God, please help me,” I whispered through choked-down tears.

  “No Eva, he went to heaven, baby.”

  I struggled to control my emotions, though tears continued to cloud my vision.

  She looked at me wide-eyed, not seeming to understand the finality of the situation. I bit my lip, allowing myself to feel only cold and numb in front of her, knowing that giving in to my feelings would be to surrender my heart to break under the pressure of her curiosity.

  From outside the bedroom window I spotted Abigail busying herself by beating the rugs on the farthest clothesline. In the midst of my sorrow, I came to the realization that life all around me was continuing much in the same manner as it always had. A sullen look crossed my face.

  I must stay strong for the children.

  Still, I suddenly had many unanswered questions filling my mind. I listed them all carefully, as though the list could somehow make some sense of the situation.

  What am I supposed to do? Why was I allowed to marry if I was to be a widow so young? How could it be God’s will—or was it merely an accident? How on earth am I gonna survive this?

  Oh God, I need strength. I can’t do this.

  Sobbing took over me again, causing Eva to run from the room. Simon entered the room with haste, and the other children trailed in behind him one by one, followed by the doctor who had arrived too late this time.

  ****

  I felt numb as I tried to comfort Eva, who seemed to be bawling almost non-stop. As I looked around at the gloom that had settled over each of my children, I wondered what my precious Elijah might have done if he was in my shoes. Eli, the oldest, at fourteen, looked so much like his father, and was just as hard a worker in every way. Elizabeth and Abigail were such a blessing in the kitchen, while Jakob and Simon already showed signs of being strong like their older brother. These children knew their papa was in heaven, but they were missing him every bit as much as I was at that moment.

  As the night wore on, the children cried and prayed, and asked me a lot of questions—questions that I couldn’t answer. Poor Simon had blamed himself for putting away the ladder and running off, instead of checking first to make certain that all the tools had been removed from the barn roof. Even after hours of reassuring him repeatedly that he hadn’t known that his father was still on the barn roof at the time, he still managed to blame himself for his father’s death.

  I blocked out the sight of my husband’s fall from the peak o
f the barn roof from my thoughts. In my mind, I felt that if I couldn’t stop it from playing over and over in my head, I would surely burst into uncontrollable sobs. Instead, I prayed silently for strength.

  ****

  In the morning, the children and I silently readied ourselves for Elijah’s burial. As I ruffled through the small closet in my room, I began to think about my life with my husband. I stood back for a minute and looked at the tiny closet that suddenly seemed out of place in the house that was built by an Amish man. No other house in the community had closets—they had pegs on the walls to hang clothing. They certainly did not have the conveniences I had in my own house. Elijah had compromised so much for my sake, yet I never told him how grateful I was for his sacrifices. After fifteen years of marriage, it suddenly felt strange to think of him as Amish, when I hadn’t really thought of him as an Amish man the entire time we were married. He had done things that went against his upbringing from the time I had begun courting him, and he never once complained. I, on the other hand, had fretted about a lot of things over the years without one harsh word from my husband.

  It was Naomi Zook who interrupted my thoughts when she stepped in the room with a black dress that she’d brought for me to wear to the services.

  “Thanks, Mam, I didn’t have anything to wear. I was ready to settle for a white blouse and a black skirt,” I said clumsily.

  I didn’t really know how to react to her in this situation. Elijah’s mother had always been very loving toward me, though slightly distant because of our differences. But she was a wonderful grandmother to my children. Now, she seemed as though she could have been a stranger, the way the air felt between us.

  “You may keep the dress. You will need it for your mourning period,” she said coldly. “It’s mine from a few years back, and I no longer fit in it. I wore it when we buried Abner and Esther.”

  That was almost seventeen years ago.

  She appeared to be keeping a stiff upper lip while speaking to me. Her face was stern, and her eyes red, as though she’d spent a sleepless night crying the way I had. I wanted to hug her, but I wasn’t certain how she would feel about it, so I nodded another thank you to her and she disappeared from the room without another word.

  Everyone rode to the funeral without speaking. I wasn’t sure if it was disrespectful to speak, so I remained quiet. This was the first funeral in the community since we’d become a part of it, and I wasn’t certain what was expected of me or my children.

  ****

  The rain drummed against the tin roof of the small, country church, and my mind drenched in the sound as though it rattled in my very soul. I smoothed the pleats of the mourning dress over and over again as I fidgeted through the memorial service for my beloved Elijah. My children hovered close to me reminding me of Elijah’s absence, and I allowed my mind to wander over the events that had brought me to this dreaded hour. I recalled the first time I set my eyes on Elijah—like it was only yesterday. In reality, more than a decade had passed, and here I was, mourning the loss of the man I was supposed to grow old with.

  As the service at the Mennonite Church ended, I began to feel strained, and my senses seemed dulled. At the door, I was greeted by an entire community of family and friends that hugged me and offered their condolences in one way or another. Before I realized it, an older gentleman who looked strangely familiar to me was shaking my hand. I noticed that he wasn’t dressed the same as the men in the community as he gave his regrets for my loss. When he lingered while I talked to other people, I struggled to place him, but couldn’t figure out where I knew him from, until I noticed him talking to Simon.

  “I see this young man turned out to be strong just the way you and your husband said he would,” the man said to me.

  “Dr. Westfield!” I said with surprise showing in my voice. “How did you find out about Elijah?” I asked.

  “A few months back, I had the opportunity to work with another one of Dr. Beiler’s patients who came into the hospital with respiratory failure. Dr. Beiler has been preaching to me ever since!” he said joyfully.

  “Are you friends with Doc Beiler?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Yes ma’am. I even accepted Jesus last month. Now I realize what you and your husband tried to get me to understand nine long years ago.”

  “Has it been that long since our paths crossed?” I asked the doctor.

  “It’s tough to believe, but it took that long for me to accept the things your husband spoke to me that day at the hospital. It’s amazing that God was that patient with me. I believe that if it hadn’t been for the seeds your husband planted in my mind about God so many years ago, I may not have been so open to the idea of salvation when Dr. Beiler presented it to me,” Dr. Westfield said.

  I nodded to him, not knowing what else to say to the stranger. I was grateful to God for letting me see the fruits of my husband’s prayers, but even that didn’t ease my pain as much as I needed it to. The older gentleman bid his good-bye to me and disappeared from sight.

  By the time I’d greeted everyone, I was exhausted, but I wasn’t prepared to go home empty handed, with only my children to comfort me. It was a struggle to keep my chin up during the many regrets from friends and family. My mother agreed to go home with me to assist me with the children. It was decided that she would stay over for a day or two, until I could manage on my own again. My brothers, Cameron and Samuel would assist my own boys with the farm until they could take over the chores on their own. This would alleviate the need for my family to rely on the Amish Aid Society. I knew they were there for people in need, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to accept assistance from the community organization—mostly because reality reminded me that I wasn’t Amish.

  As we drove away from the small, community cemetery, I gave into my feelings of self-sorrow. My dreams seemed to shatter with the accident, and my heart ached for Elijah. I looked over my children carefully, wondering what was going on inside their minds. Eva, my youngest, at two, would most likely not even remember her papa.

  It is a right gut thing that I took pictures of Elijah, so I can show the children.

  Wait a minute.

  I sound so Amish with the way I speak, but I’m not, and I’ve been pretending all these years like a fool.

  Though the pictures went against Elijah’s upbringing, he had allowed them for my own selfish pleasure. Knowing I had them gave me a sense of security, hoping they might make our mourning period easier, but it didn’t erase the sudden thoughts about who I had become.

  My thoughts momentarily turned away from Elijah and toward my mother, as I watched her move about my kitchen with grace. The aging woman had once been so tawdry in her appearance, with her hair dyed jet-black, and her wild make-up, that in my opinion, had made her resemble a prostitute so many years ago. Now, she wore her hair pulled back conservatively in its natural auburn color. My mother was more beautiful now in her Amish-like attire than she had ever been when she’d thought her flashiness shaped her beauty.

  I was pleased with the way my mother had changed, thanks to God in His wonderful way of opening her eyes to her sinful ways. My mother would have never thought that wearing revealing clothing wasn’t in God’s plan, if she hadn’t read it for herself in the Bible. It was a glorious day when she’d discovered in God’s Word that modesty was what He wanted for Godly women. Finding out that her body was a Temple of the Lord, had also given her the God-given strength to give up cigarettes and liquor. She had encouraged my father to do the same, and God delivered him too. Yes, God had truly blessed my family; especially Mamma.

  Still, the pain of losing my husband left me with a lot of unanswered questions and unexpected bitterness. Why would God allow my blessings to be taken from me and let me experience such pain? I wasn’t sure I even felt like His child at this moment, but I think I was working hard to push Him away in my grief. I felt somewhat separated from the rest of the world—a world now shattered by circumstances beyond my control. Nothing made
any sense to me. The man that I loved was gone without my consent. There would be no one to care for me or comfort me in my grief. There was nothing left but emptiness. A loss so immense that none could imagine unless they felt it. In my heart, I felt the loss of Elijah was truly the absence of joy.

  FOUR

  MOURNING

  I awoke early, having had the same dream as the night before. My sudden awareness of my surroundings angered me, for I didn’t want to waken from my dream of Elijah. In a moment’s time, I had gone from being lulled by the gentle, rhythmic beating of Elijah’s heartbeat, to a state of wakefulness without him. I rolled over onto Elijah’s pillow and held it in desperation. The tears came in the form of profound sobs that were unquenchable.

  After a time, when the hazy sunlight began to show through the clouds, it peeked in my bedroom windows and I lifted my weary head from the sweet-scented pillow, forcing myself up to participate in the world of life around me.

  After a hot, relaxing bath, I felt a little more willing to begin my day. Rain began to pour from the sky, the same as it had since the day Elijah was laid in the ground. It brought along with it a gloom of sadness that I couldn’t lift from my heart.