by Sarah Price
She looked up at him. “But you’d already driven past my haus when you found me.”
“I talked with your stepmother.”
Immediately, Sadie felt uneasy. Surely Rachel had told Frederick that she’d gone to town. And Rachel would know that he had picked her up. She’d be angry that Sadie hadn’t gone straight home.
“She didn’t look very happy, now that I think of it.”
Sadie made a small noise.
He glanced at her. “Whatever is bothering her, you just need to have faith that she’ll find her peace, Sadie. And you can pray for her, too.”
Immediately, she felt guilty. She hadn’t been praying for Rachel enough.
“God will make it right, Sadie.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie saw movement on the other side of the stream. She turned just in time to see a rabbit dipping its head to take a drink of water.
When it lifted its head, it stared at her for a moment before hopping back up the embankment.
That was the moment when Sadie stumbled on a rock and fell. Frederick reached for her arm, but it was too late. Sadie fell into the stream, putting out her hands to stop herself from being immersed in the cold water.
“Sadie!”
Frederick jumped into the stream and quickly helped her get to her feet.
“Are you all right?”
“Ja, I’m fine.” She glanced at her hands. Her palms were cut from the rocks in the stream bed. “Bruised a little, but fine.”
He guided her back onto the path. “Let’s get you home right quick, Sadie. It’s too cold for you to be wet.”
How careless of me, she thought. She had been enjoying herself just being in Frederick’s company and now she had no choice but to return home. But he was right. The last thing she needed was to catch a cold.
Chapter Seventeen
By Saturday morning, Sadie had taken ill. She had known it was coming, for she’d begun sneezing the previous evening. By morning, her body began to ache.
“You can’t catch a cold that fast, can you?” she asked her father as she shivered under her blue blanket while sitting at the table for breakfast.
“I reckon you can.” He reached over and pressed his hand to her forehead. A look of concern crossed his face. “You’re feverish. You best get up to bed and rest.” He glanced at Rachel. “No work for Sadie today.”
Rachel nodded her acknowledgment to Jacob, but when he returned his attention to his coffee, she scowled.
Sadie wasn’t certain what to make of that. Perhaps Rachel thought that she’d have too much work to do without Sadie’s help. In reality, there was not much to do. The previous day, Sadie had finished all of the laundry, and the house was always pristine and clean.
Excusing herself from the table, Sadie retreated to her bedroom, snuggling under two quilts and wrapping the blue blanket around herself as well. She felt safe and comfortable in her room, Frederick’s blanket keeping her warm.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had been sick. Usually she was so healthy. With her head feeling as if it were being squeezed by a vise, Sadie sought comfort through sleep, which, fortunately, came easily.
Later that afternoon, her father knocked on her door. When he peeked into the room, he wore an expression of grave concern. “Not feeling any better?” he asked as he walked into her room. Sadie saw that he carried a bowl of soup with a piece of bread.
Sadie sat up and adjusted the pillows behind her back. “Nee, I’m not, Daed.”
Her father pulled up a ladder-back chair and sat down, handing the soup bowl to her. “Reckon that’s what happens when you decide to go swimming in October.”
Sadie managed to laugh. “Oh, Daed!” She took the bowl of soup. It was a thick puree of root vegetables with pieces of translucent onion and chunks of potato in it. She inhaled, the steam warming her cheeks. “Smells gut. Did Rachel make it, then?”
Jacob nodded. “She did, ja. Seems she must be feeling better.”
Of that Sadie wasn’t so sure. She didn’t want to tell her father that Rachel hadn’t checked in on her at all. In fact, Sadie had awoken in the middle of the morning and walked downstairs to fetch herself a glass of water. Rachel hadn’t even inquired as to how she was feeling. But Sadie wasn’t about to complain to her father about his wife. Instead, she reached for the spoon and dipped it into the bowl.
Leaning back in the chair, Jacob put his hands behind his neck. He looked tired, dark circles shadowing his eyes. “I mowed the back field today. Reckon that’s the last cutting for the season. Should have enough hay for the winter, though.”
“Mayhaps I can help you bale it?” Sadie dipped the spoon into the bowl.
She knew that he’d need to bale it after it sat drying for a few days. Baling damp hay meant risking mold which, if left unattended, could make horses sick. Even worse, sometimes hay that was baled before it dried properly could smolder into a fire, burning the barn in which it was stored.
“You know how much I love working in the fields,” she added as she lifted a spoonful of the soup to her mouth. Baling hay was one of her favorite farm chores. She loved the scent of freshly cut and dried hay.
Despite her request, Jacob didn’t immediately accept her offer. That surprised Sadie. Usually he wanted her help, especially with some of the more strenuous chores. And he couldn’t bale hay alone. One person had to drive the mules while another lifted and stacked the bales.
“Let’s just see about that, Sadie. Seems Rachel thought she’d help me.”
Rachel? Nothing could have shocked Sadie more. Rachel never helped Jacob with anything outside the house. She definitely favored working inside and usually wanted Sadie working beside her.
At least until last Monday.
“Fresh air might do her good,” Jacob explained as he rubbed his temples with his thumbs. “She’s always cooped up inside the haus. Never works outside, except to garden with you. I think her offer is her way of trying to come around a bit.”
Sadie wasn’t so sure about that, but she also wasn’t certain what was driving her stepmother’s recent odd behavior. The only thing she knew was that Rachel was definitely trying to drive a wedge between her and her father.
“Baling’s hard work,” Sadie commented before she took another taste of the soup. It was warm and spicy with a hint of sweetness. She loved soup, and this soup was particularly good. “She’s not used to it.”
Her father rolled his eyes. “Well, I sure won’t hint that she’s not strong enough—”
“—or young enough—” Sadie added.
“—or young enough to start baling hay.” Jacob winked at his daughter. “She wants to try, so I say let her.”
After taking another spoonful, Sadie set down the bowl on her nightstand. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Daed, may I ask you something?”
“Of course, Sadie.”
She wasn’t certain how to ask the questions that were on her mind. But she knew that this was the perfect opportunity to do so. Rachel rarely left Jacob’s side when he was in the house. “Why is Rachel acting so . . .”
She hesitated, searching for a word that would describe her stepmother’s behavior without sounding too critical. Whatever she thought of Rachel, Sadie knew that the woman was still her father’s wife.
“. . . well, so peculiar?”
Her father sighed and lowered his hands from behind his neck. Leaning forward, he put his elbows on his knees and stared directly at Sadie. There was a sadness in his eyes. “Some things can’t be explained, Sadie. But I’ve noticed it, too.” He paused, suddenly deep in thought. “I’ve thought long and hard about this. And I reckon Rachel’s just having a tough time with growing older.”
“I thought it was about not having a boppli.”
Jacob nodded. “Ja, that too. But the two go hand in hand, don’t you think? You know, when she was your age, her daed was in that accident and lost the use of his legs. Her maem died soon after, and Rachel’s
older siblings were all married. She was left to care for him.”
“I don’t understand.”
He reached up and scratched his cheek, just above his beard. “You’ve heard her stories, about not going to singings or volleyball games. She didn’t get to court anyone. And when her daed finally passed, she was thirty years old. A maedel. And with few prospects, Rachel.” He gave her a weak smile. “She’s a fine woman, both inside and out. But unless she wanted to marry an older widower . . .” He left the sentence unfinished.
“You’re a widower,” Sadie pointed out. “I don’t think marrying you was such a bad thing.” For Rachel, anyway, she wanted to add, but refrained from doing so.
He laughed, but the sound wasn’t filled with his usual joy. “I’d like to think so. And I’m certainly younger than most widowers. But I reckon she had dreams of having her own family and kinner. Most widowers remarry because they have too many kinner and need help to care for them.”
Sadie cleared her throat. “Not you.”
“That’s right. I might be older than Rachel, but I only had one dochder. In her mind, you were more her own age and mayhaps she thought of you as a friend. Now, however, she’s realizing that she’s not a typical Amish wife. She wasn’t nineteen when she married, and from the looks of it, she might never have her own family besides you and me. And she sees you going to all of these youth gatherings and living a life she never had.”
Suddenly it began to make sense to Sadie. Rachel was jealous of Sadie’s youth. She was also envious of Sadie’s future. Unlike Rachel, Sadie was able to attend singings and picnics. Unlike Rachel, Sadie also had a suitor. And Sadie was young enough to have children when the time came.
But she couldn’t articulate any of this. Something tickled the back of her throat. She tried to swallow but couldn’t. If felt as if she had a puff of cotton blocking her breathing passage.
“You okay?”
Sadie frowned. She tried, again, to clear her throat. “I could use some water, I think.”
Quickly, Jacob left the room and hurried to the upstairs bathroom. As Sadie heard the faucet turn on, she wondered what she could do, if anything, to improve her relationship with Rachel.
Her father returned and handed her the glass.
“Danke.”
Sadie took it and drank some, feeling the cool wetness soothe her scratchy throat. She lowered the glass and looked up at her father.
“I think I understand,” she said.
“That’s a gut girl.” He leaned over and patted her arm. “I knew you’d have compassion for Rachel.”
Sadie raised her hand and pressed it against her throat. She frowned and tried to swallow. “Daed?”
“Ja?”
“I . . . I can hardly breathe,” she managed to say. She tried to swallow once again. “My throat. It’s swelling shut.”
Jacob straightened his back and stared at her. “Your lips. They’re swelling, too.” He hurried to the open doorway and called out for Rachel.
Sadie didn’t hear her respond. After what felt like minutes, but was probably only seconds, Rachel appeared in the doorway. Her black apron was streaked with flour and she dried her hands on a dishcloth.
“Everything okay?” she asked, peering into Sadie’s room at Jacob.
“What was in that soup?” Jacob demanded.
Rachel looked from him to Sadie, who, by now, was gasping for breath. Rachel’s eyes widened. “Wh-what’s happening to her face?”
Sadie didn’t need a mirror. She knew from past experience that her skin was patchy red. She began to panic, fighting to gulp some air into her lungs. But it was nearly impossible.
“Answer me!” Jacob shouted. He placed his arms on Rachel’s shoulders and gave her a slight shake. “Were there apples in that soup?”
Rachel’s eyes returned to him. She hesitated and licked her lips. “I . . . well, there’s onions and celery and potatoes—”
“Apples!” he demanded. “Were there apples in it?”
Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. “Ja, th-there were. Just some juice to add a little sweetness.”
Abruptly, Jacob released her. The force of his action caused Rachel to stumble into the wall. He glared at his wife. “You know she’s allergic to apples! Deathly allergic! Why would you have done such a thing?” When he turned to look at Sadie, his cheeks drained of all color and his eyes went wild with fear. “I’ll get you some allergy medicine and then fetch the doctor.”
Sadie nodded, her hands still pressed against her throat. Try as she might to gulp air, she couldn’t. Her throat was dry and itchy, swelling shut. Please hurry, she prayed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had such an allergic reaction, and never had it been this strong.
When her father returned with a small cup of pink liquid, Sadie eagerly did her best to swallow it.
“Stay with her!” Jacob gave Rachel a not-too-gentle shove into the room. He was angry, that was clear. And Rachel looked fearful of his fury. “Don’t leave her side. You hear me?”
Meekly, Rachel nodded and stepped into the room. Sadie noticed that she barely made any eye contact with her and, for the briefest of moments, she wondered if Rachel had truly forgotten about her stepdaughter’s allergy to apples. Perhaps she had included the apples on purpose.
But when Rachel finally sat down, she folded her hands and shut her eyes, her mouth moving in a silent prayer.
No, Sadie realized, no matter what was going on with her stepmother, not even Rachel was so cruel as to deliberately try to harm her.
Chapter Eighteen
“Sadie, I need you to do me a favor.”
Sadie glanced up from the table where she had been sitting, reading the most recent issue of Family Life. Her father sat nearby, in his reclining chair, reading the Budget newspaper. He barely looked up at the sound of Rachel’s voice as she walked up the basement stairs, a glass pan in her hands.
“What is it, Rachel?” Sadie set down the little magazine, wondering what her stepmother could possibly need from her at this late hour in the day.
Shutting the basement door behind her, Rachel walked to the table. “Would you run this pie over to John Rabor’s haus?”
Immediately, Sadie knew that something was amiss. She eyed the pie with suspicion. “John Rabor’s haus?” She clenched her teeth. The last thing she wanted to do was go anywhere near that man. “Is something wrong with him?”
“He’s feeling poorly.”
“He seemed fine when he came to our church meeting last week.”
Sadie couldn’t help but wonder how Rachel would have known anything about John Rabor. It wasn’t as if Amish people in Echo Creek socialized on the telephone. In fact, Sadie had never seen her stepmother use the telephone in the small shanty that they shared with their neighbors. She had no one to call, after all. In Echo Creek, the phones were usually just for emergencies and, even then, rarely used unless someone needed to call for help from Liberty Falls. With everyone’s phones located outside of their houses, who would hear a phone ring anyway?
Her father, however, used the phone to contact Englischers when it was time to pick up milk or when he needed a special part for his cooling system. And, of course, whenever he needed more diesel fuel, he’d call the supplier for a delivery.
Other than that, the phone remained unused.
So how would Rachel have heard that John had taken ill?
Apparently Rachel didn’t find Sadie’s comment charitable. She set the pan upon the table and put her hand on her hip. “Honestly, Sadie. It’s the neighborly thing to do when someone is ill.”
Sadie wanted to quip back that Rachel had never sent anything to anyone else’s house when they were ill, but she knew better than to disrespect her stepmother.
“It’s getting late.” Sadie glanced at the clock. It was almost six and the sun was already setting. “And it’s a long walk.”
Rachel gave her a dark look.
She heard the rustle of the newspaper. “Sadie,
” her father said in a firm voice, “take the horse and carriage if you want.”
Getting up from the table, she reached down for the pie and headed toward the mudroom. She paused to grab her shawl, knowing that the night air would be cool. She didn’t want to get sick again.
Ever since the weekend, when Rachel had accidentally cooked with apples, Sadie had noticed that something was amiss in the house. She knew that her father had exchanged words with Rachel about the apples, for she had heard him arguing with her. For the past four days, there had been an uneasy feeling lingering in the atmosphere.
Almost thirty minutes passed before she arrived at John Rabor’s farm. The sun was setting behind the barn and a light burned inside the kitchen window. Sadie stopped the buggy and took a deep breath before she climbed out.
“I’ll only be a minute,” she mumbled to the horse as she tied it to a hitching post. “Trust me on that.”
The horse whinnied in response.
With the pie in hand, Sadie crossed the driveway and climbed the stairs to the front door. Dread built in her chest as she lifted her hand to knock on the door. As if she had been expected, the door immediately opened.
John Rabor stood there, his gray beard covering the front of his white shirt and black vest. Sadie didn’t know what to make of the fact that he was wearing his Sunday best. Clearly he wasn’t sick at all.
“Come in, Sadie,” he said, gesturing with his hand for her to enter the kitchen.
Behind him, she saw the faces of the children, all of them wearing fresh clothes and scrubbed faces. Owen scowled a little, but the younger children beamed at her.
“My maem told me you were feeling poorly,” Sadie said as she handed him the pie. Her eyes returned to the children. Not one of them moved. They were on their best behavior. Yes, they had known she was coming. “I’m pleased that she’s mistaken.”
John took the dish from her. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled. Then, as if he remembered that she was there, he looked up and stared at her. “You will stay and have some, ja?”