Little Wild Flower Book Two

by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  In the kitchen, my thoughts turned to the task of bread making—the very thing that I’d been using to keep me busy. Already, I’d discovered that if I stopped working, my mind had too much time to wander to my pain and sorrow.

  My poor children were left to their own way of working through their grief regarding the loss of their father. For me, it was an emptiness that could only be filled with thoughts of my husband. In the midst of my troubles, I could only put my focus on the things that I had to do in an everyday effort to keep myself from losing control. Allowing myself to feel the brunt of the pain from losing Elijah would be to surrender my heart to the breaking that came from admitting the loss existed.

  Even everyday living had become a chore for me. Without the children’s assistance in bringing some sort of order to the house, I would surely have crumbled under the pressure of the loneliness that I felt in those first few weeks. I often watched them as they went about their household tasks, and wondered all the while what they thought of as they worked in silence.

  ****

  Since the day of the accident, the same distressing questions plagued me to the point that I could no longer ignore them—I needed answers. I had tried to continue my prayer, but it brought little or no relief. I lay awake at night wondering how I would manage the farm without having to hire outside help in order that Eli wouldn’t have to quit school to work. I didn’t know how my boys would learn the things that they needed in order to become responsible men without Elijah’s instruction. With my yearning for answers, came a sense of abandonment from all things that had once made sense in my life. Neither death nor life held much meaning for me any longer.

  ****

  After several sleepless nights in a row, I tossed and turned due to thunderstorms. I lay awake in bed, watching the lightening filter through she sheer curtains that hung from the window as it raced across the sky. I always hated nights like this, and now I missed having Elijah to turn to when the crashes of thunder frightened me.

  I rolled over onto Elijah’s side of the bed, pulling his pillow under my arm. The lightening illuminated the room with a bluish glow. Thunder crashed loudly, and moments later, Eva ran into the room. I held out my arms to her and pulled her up onto the bed. With every crash of thunder, Eva shivered and whined with her head under the quilt. I pulled the quilt off her face and kissed her forehead. She smiled nervously at the lightening and cuddled in close to me.

  In the morning, I awoke feeling groggy from lack of sleep. Eva was no longer in the bed with me, and I heard her downstairs begging Elizabeth to get her some milk. I rolled over and began to cry at the fact that Elijah would miss all the cute things she would do for the first time. It saddened me that he would never see his children get married, or have children of their own. Our entire married life, Elijah had talked of his excitement over having grandchildren someday. Now, I would be bearing the burden of change all by myself, and it left me feeling cheated.

  ****

  Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Before I had a chance to notice, autumn had come along. With the season, came the reality that spring and summer had passed by me unnoticed.

  One cloudless day, I wandered outside and down the path, trying desperately to grasp my thoughts and make some sense out of them. As I walked, I ran my hands along the tops of the wild flowers I had come to love so much over the years. But suddenly, without Elijah’s exuberance to make the flower’s uniqueness stand out, they seemed like mere weeds without any character. Everywhere I turned, there seemed to be a little piece of Elijah missing from every aspect of my journey.

  At long last, I came upon the creek, but all I could see was an empty spot where my husband and I had spent time making the many plans for our future. Now, there didn’t seem to be any reason for a future without the man that I had expected would fulfill all my dreams. I no longer wanted to be on the farm, nor the land that had betrayed me with its teasing of hopefulness.

  In the distance, I could hear the cows calling out from the pasture. The stench from the land wafted by me, causing me to feel nauseated. The “fresh country air,” as my husband always referred to the smell of cow manure, hadn’t bothered me since the first few weeks that I’d lived here. It was something that I just never noticed any more, but suddenly, it felt like something I couldn’t wait to get away from. My sudden intolerance for my surroundings made me wonder if I hadn’t gotten caught up in a life that didn’t seem to be who I was—that I had become something that I never intended to be. I wasn’t Amish, but yet I was living the life as though I was, and it suddenly felt foreign and confusing. I tried to shrug it off and returned to the house, intending to leave the confusion behind.

  ****

  Each day seemed to change into the next, not allowing me to fully experience any particular day. Every new day seemed like the one before it. The chores were always tended to, and life around me didn’t appear to change much, if at all. Family gatherings at my parent’s and the Zook’s continued in the same manner as they had before Elijah’s death. No one ever talked about him, or if they did, it was always in hushed tones.

  Nadine and Hannah tried to make regular visits, attempting to bring me out my gloom. I secretly hated seeing them with their husbands; a cruel reminder of the deep void in my life. I also dreaded the coming of my birthday, knowing that there would be no wild flowers for my gift, nor any picnic by the creek with Elijah. There were a lot of things I knew I would never have again. Nights were long and lonely. I longed to be held by Elijah and to have him tell me it was all just a big mistake—that he wasn’t gone forever—that he would soon return from a long journey or something of the like. All my hoping didn’t make it so. In fact, it made me more lonesome for the soft kisses that I had come accustomed to feeling on the back my neck when my husband was near me.

  ****

  In spite of all my protesting, my birthday did arrive, much like every other day before it. I felt cheated that I didn’t have my husband to grow old with—I was now the only one of us growing old.

  In the afternoon, one-by-one, each of my children suddenly disappeared. I called out each of their names, but none of them responded. The hot sun beat down on my back, making the thick, black mourning dress seem heavy. I wiped away a drop of sweat that rolled off my cheek, and pulled my unruly hair away from my face. While walking lazily down toward the creek, I spotted a quilt laid out on the grass. I could hear giggling from behind the tall pine trees that lined the creek bank. When I called the children’s names again, they each poked their heads out from around the trees and approached me with wild flowers they had picked along the path.

  “We didn’t want you to be without flowers on your birthday, Mam,” Eli said.

  Tears poured from my eyes. My heart ached, but I knew the children meant well. Abigail had packed our picnic basket with lunch that she had made while I had been busy with other chores. Eva took my hand and led me to the waiting quilt. I sat down with her, and the other children sat in a circle around me. Each one had a hopeful smile on his or her face, causing me to force a smile and thank them so I wouldn’t disappoint them. Abigail then distributed sandwiches and fresh fruit, while Eli used the pitcher to draw fresh, cold water from the creek. When we had all been served, Eli said a prayer of blessing over the food. We ate in silence, until Eli broke it.

  “I know it ain’t the same as being with Papa, but we wanted your day to be as much the same as it could be. We tried to make it the same way Papa would have if he could’ve been here.” His voice quieted, and his head dropped.

  Remembering made me cry, but the children’s wonderful gift made my attitude turn quickly to joy, even if only for the time being. After we had our lunch, I thanked each of the children again for thinking of me, and we picked up the quilt and picnic basket then, headed for home.

  My mother was at the house when we returned from the surprise picnic. She had brought over the cake that was for the birthday dinner that she was to cook in my kitchen for our large
family. Her presence didn’t prevent me from continuing to feel the absence of my husband. Spending my birthday without Elijah felt the loneliest I had felt since his death several months before.

  When family members began to arrive, I put on a smile, determined to carry myself the way my husband would expect me to. It wasn’t easy, it felt fake, but I couldn’t be sincere in my effort to fool everyone into thinking I was having a joyful birthday.

  Later in the evening when the rest of the family had gone home, my mother stayed behind to help me clean up. After the children were in bed, she sat me down in front of the warm fire in the fireplace to have a talk with me.

  “I know you feel bad, dear, but your children need you to be strong,” she stated firmly.

  I stood up, unable to comment and ran my hand along the mantel, recalling the many memories that revolved around the fireplace. I ignored my mother’s statement and released my thoughts.

  “Our first Christmas, Elijah wanted to decorate this mantel and I told him I didn’t want the sap from the tree limbs messing up my wood floors,” I began with a lump in my throat. “I even made him put the tree out in the screened patio. Amish people don’t even have Christmas trees in their houses, but he wanted me and the children to have a part of both cultures. I can’t believe how selfish I was—making him put the tree out there.”

  “I remember,” she said softly, nodding her head.

  “Every year since then, he automatically put the tree on the patio without question. Why did I never allow him to put a tree in the family room the way he wanted?” I asked myself out loud.

  I bellowed a hearty guffaw, but tears threatened to spill over from my eyes. Thinking of my actions, and his gentle, loving reactions to the situation made me wonder how he had put up with someone who was so much different than he.

  I knew what my mother said to me was important, and even truthful about my needing to be stronger, but I still hadn’t come to terms with my loss. I knew my children would need me to make the upcoming holidays seem as normal as was possible, but I wasn’t certain I could pull it off.

  After she left, I took the wild flowers that the children had picked for me out to the barn. I bound them in twine and hung them upside down to dry.

  ****

  At the Thanksgiving gathering, I tried to ignore most of the couple’s chatter. Mitchell asked me to join in the conversation around the Thanksgiving feast, and I got choked up.

  “It’s your turn Jane, what’re you thankful for?” he asked without thinking.

  Rebekah nudged him, but it was too late to take the question back. I looked around at the family members sitting around the large table, and realized that I didn’t look the same as everyone else. My wardrobe only consisted of grim mourning clothes—the children had long-since retired theirs. Even Elijah’s Mam had put away her black wardrobe. I, on the other hand, didn’t know the proper length of time to wear them, but I wasn’t in any hurry to let go of them. The mourning dress gave me a sense of security that no one could take away from me the way my husband had been taken from me.

  “Everybody’s waiting on you, Jane. Does it take that long to think of what you're thankful for?” my brother asked impatiently, ignoring his wife’s nudge.

  I flashed him a dirty look, letting him know that I wanted to be left alone. I couldn’t be thankful that my husband had been taken from me against my will. I was angry, and I didn’t want to participate in a tradition that in my opinion was childish.

  “We’re thankful that Mam is here with us to make us a family,” Eli cut in.

  I didn’t know how to react to his statement, since a big part of me wanted to run from the room and cry. Instead, I forced a smile at his innocent attempt at rescuing me.

  Elijah’s sister, Rachel, and her husband, Luke, finally spoke up and asked that everyone else take their turns ahead of me. I appreciated having Rachel to speak on my behalf, for she had willingly taken the responsibility of sheltering me since Elijah’s accident. We had always been close because of her part in bringing my husband and me together, but now, it seemed as though she were taking on the burden of my loss. At the funeral, she had made mention of the day that she pulled me off of my porch, forcing me to venture out in my new surroundings, and finding Elijah along the way. That day had been the beginning to the wonderful life that I had had—up until that dreary spring day when Elijah parted from me. Now, all I felt was lonely, and my heart ached as I looked around the table at all the happy couples, but I continued to wear the counterfeit smile that had become my cover for my true feelings.

  At the end of the meal, I knew that the only way I could find some peace was to get away from the confusion. I excused myself from the table and scampered up to the attic, not worrying that my family was still downstairs. I took a lantern with me so I would be able to see, even though I felt I was in total darkness—lantern or no lantern.

  Once I climbed the attic stairs, I pulled up the staircase and closed the trap door. Pushing aside cobwebs, I made my way to the back of the attic, my eyes focused on one thing that caught my attention, even from across the room. At the far end of the attic, near the large, half-moon window, sat my cedar chest that used to contain my wedding dowry. I sat down beside the large trunk and laid my head down on it so I could think things through. In my mind’s eye, I pictured the items that were safely tucked away inside. I knew my wedding dress was at the top, along with dried flowers and forbidden pictures, and other various treasured items that I’d collected throughout my marriage and courting period with Elijah. Part of me wanted to look in the trunk, while the sensible part of me thought that it was best not to expose myself to things that could cause me to cry more than I already had. After carefully weighing my options, I resolved to risk opening the trunk and all the pain that could come with it.

  The lid squeaked its protest when I tried to open it. I almost changed my mind, but the stiff lid finally gave way to my tugging. The antique trunk had been purchased at an auction in town, but the strong cedar smell remained, with a hint of musty smell, which I always thought gave it character.

  This old trunk is so pretty; I don’t know why I haven’t brought it downstairs instead of leaving it in this dusty attic.

  Just as I pictured, my wedding dress laid on top of a barrage of old things—and some, fairly new. I held the dress up in front of me, catching my reflection in the large window. Thoughts of my wedding day brought tears to my already swollen eyes, and made the lump in my throat increase. I remembered it as though it were only yesterday. The last wedding we had attended together was for my sister, Molly, to Seth Beiler. Thinking of Molly and Seth brought to mind the weeks that Elijah and I had worked so hard at building the Dawdi Haus that now sat vacant on our property. We had dreams for that house, dreams that included living there while our grandchildren resided in our own home.

  I momentarily recalled the talk we had at Molly’s wedding regarding our future plans for the children. Elijah’s ideas for our land, and how we would disperse it to our sons when they married, were spoken with such excitement. We danced nearly every dance and held each other close the entire night. Our parents teased us, accusing us of acting like newlyweds. Elijah and I had laughed at their comments, but deep in my heart I felt like a newlywed that night. Little did we know it would be the last dance we would have together.

  “Oh Elijah, I miss you something awful,” I cried.

  I laid aside the dress and began to pick through the contents of the trunk. To one side of the trunk, rested various items that were keepsakes from the children. I sifted through progress reports from school, the first baby outfit I had attempted to sew for Eli, and a lock of hair from each child’s first trim. I un-wrapped each piece of brown paper that contained a separate lock of hair folded in it and ran my fingers over the tiny swirls that had been imprinted, as they lay pressed in the trunk. An unmarked piece of the same brown paper remained after each child’s lock had been accounted for. When I un-wrapped it, I gasped, for I had f
orgotten that I had put Elijah’s hair in the paper when it wouldn’t all fit into the locket that held a small lock.

  I closed my eyes as I ran my fingers over the lock of hair, remembering how much Elijah had loved it when I ran my fingers through his hair. I had always nuzzled my face in the back of his neck because I loved the feel of his soft, blonde hair on my cheek. It sometimes aggravated my husband because it tickled him, but he always tolerated it for the sake of my pleasure. I pressed the hair on my cheek, but I knew it wasn’t the same. It was then that I realized I had forgotten the way Elijah’s neck smelled whenever I nuzzled my face against him. Tears poured from my eyes in greater measure than had fallen in several weeks. I carefully replaced the hair in its packaging and held the treasure close to my heart as I gave in to the sobbing that had overtaken me.

  Looking back in the trunk, I found a small, blue hankie toward the bottom of the trunk, then, used my apron to wipe my face so I could examine the hankie more closely. It was the same hankie that Nadine had given to me on my wedding day. She had repeated the rhyme for me that convinced me to tuck the hankie in the waistline of my dress. “You have to have something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue,” she had said. She had made me account for every item that day.