by Sarah Price
She looked out the window, hoping he didn’t see her cheeks.
He chuckled under his breath, but not in a malicious way. She wanted to smile. His happy-go-lucky perspective felt contagious. She just had trouble letting go of her inhibitions. During her lifetime, she had never been afforded the luxury of gentle teasing and pleasant compliments. It took some getting used to; that was for sure and certain.
All too soon, the mailbox at the end of the lane for the Zooks’ farm appeared. All of the relaxation that she felt began to vanish as she wondered what might await her inside the house. She steeled herself for the unexpected. After a day of socializing and laughing, Kate knew that she was destined to encounter unpleasantness from David.
He stopped the buggy just near the corner of the barn and stepped on the brake. Smiling, he hurried out of the open door of his buggy and reached out his hand to help Kate climb down. “Sure was fun, Kate,” he said as she stood before him.
“Danke for asking me, Samuel,” she said, avoiding his eyes. She didn’t want him to see the sorrow she felt, knowing that such a fun day would be followed by a long week of hard labor, terse comments, and an angry environment. With Miriam and Becca finishing up the last weeks of school before summer vacation, there would be no buffers to protect Kate from David’s barrage of negative attention.
“Don’t forget your fish,” he reminded her as he went to the back of the buggy and dug through the cooler. Extracting three fish, the individual wrapping paper soggy, he frowned. “Should I carry them inside for you so you don’t get fish smell on your hands?”
She smiled, touched at his generous offer but not wanting to subject him to whatever awaited her inside the house. “That’s OK. I’ll get fish smell on my hands cooking them, ain’t so?”
He laughed, handing her the fish. “I reckon you sure do have a point there! Can’t cook fish without handling them.”
Taking the fish, she started to walk to the house, too aware that he was watching her. At the porch steps, she glanced over her shoulder, not too surprised to see that he lingered by the side of his buggy.
“You have yourself a great week, Kate Zook!” he called out, his finger on the brim of his hat and a twinkle in his eyes.
Blushing, she dipped her head and ran into the house, her heart beating and pulse racing. She leaned against the door, smiling to herself as she listened to the sound of his horse pulling the buggy down the driveway and toward the road. For just one long second, she clung to that feeling, as if suspended in air, floating in happiness.
“Kate? You back already?” Maem called from the kitchen. “Daed’ll be needing your help, then.”
With a deep breath, she shut her eyes and said good-bye to the glow of joy that she felt. Reality, she thought. There is no escape from it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
During the following week, the first daffodils bloomed, their yellow cups a joyous change from the dreary colors that had coated the ground since the first thaw. Green leaf buds popped onto the bare, gray trees. Kate spent the week busy at home, helping her maem with the housework. April always meant a good spring-cleaning of the house with windows opened, furniture moved, and bedding aired outside in the morning sunshine.
She didn’t mind the extra work. After all, idle hands were the devil’s breeding ground, Maem always said. Kate also relished the reward of enjoying shiny windowpanes and dust-free corners. She didn’t even mind scrubbing the bedroom floors, applying a layer of wood oil, and mopping up the excess liquid with clean rags. The chores kept her busy, which meant her mind did not wander. For that, she was most grateful.
In the afternoons, after the housework was finished and before the late milking, Maem would retreat to the bedroom, finding a few minutes to lie down before it was time to begin preparing supper. Kate used that time to return to the family garden and continue the work she loved so well, hoeing and clearing away unwanted weeds, sticks, and rocks.
Tending to the garden remained her favorite chore. She loved the feeling of the dry earth on her hands and the warm sun on the back of her neck. Becca often returned home from school and complained about working in the garden. She preferred to play with her friends who lived down the lane. Unfortunately for Becca, they, too, needed to help at home so, with great reluctance and a lot of sighing, she would work alongside Kate for the afternoon hours. The extra hands were needed. The spring gardens needed proper care or else there would not be enough food for the families during the rest of the year.
That evening, everyone’s mood seemed a little lighter than usual, all except David, who grew more despondent each day. During the supper hour, Kate watched him pick at the food on his plate, listening as her maem scolded him for wasting God’s precious gift of food. Her words fell on deaf ears. Daed was not obviously angry, but nonetheless remained quiet, quickly retreating to the barn after the meal for final chores.
Each night, before it was time to retire, Daed called the children into the kitchen where they would kneel down for evening prayers. Most nights, David was not present, having rolled his wheelchair into his bedroom to escape the humiliation of not being able to kneel. Only then did Daed seem more himself, a little bit relaxed when his son was no longer present in the room.
It was an observation that confused Kate.
Many nights, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why Daed felt such anger toward David. Oh, she overheard bits and pieces of whispered discussions between Maem and Daed regarding the future of the farm and what to do with David. One option they considered was sending him to a rehabilitation center. Sometimes Kate wondered if that was merely to send him out of sight, rather than because of how much work it was to tend to the needs of a disabled, angry young man.
While Kate often felt guilt at having known of David’s inclination to drink alcohol and not having informed her parents, she found herself questioning the reasons behind her parents’ shame. Several times, she wanted to ask her maem, but she never found the courage to do so. When her maem was in a good, cheerful mood, Kate didn’t want to ruin it. And when her maem seemed extra down, Kate hesitated to add to her worries. So the question remained unspoken and the answer undisclosed.
“Kate!”
She looked up from where she knelt in the garden, surprised to hear David calling her.
He sat on the porch, his wheelchair parked next to the long bench that leaned against the house. His shirt was untucked from his pants and one of his suspenders hung loose from his shoulder. Without his hat on, his hair looked tousled and bedridden. Once again, he hadn’t brushed his hair.
“Come here!”
The command lacked any warmth or friendliness. With a heavy heart, she got to her feet, pausing to brush the dirt from the front of her dress before she headed toward the house. He watched her, his eyes narrowing as she neared.
“Could you walk any slower?”
She held her tongue. It would be so easy to retort his taunts. She often wished that she could. But her commitment to God was stronger than her annoyance at her brother’s snide remarks and barbs. Forcing a smile on her face, she approached the porch steps.
“What is it, David?”
He gestured with his thumb toward the house. “I’m cold. Get me my blanket, will you?”
Pursing her lips, she held back a rebuke for his rudeness. No “please.” No kindness. Just a command spoken with contempt. He seemed to ignore the fact that she had been working in the garden, and that with little effort, he could have most certainly fetched it himself. In typical David fashion, he preferred to inconvenience her rather than take care of himself. She wondered how long this punishing attitude would last.
Without a word, however, she walked past him and opened the kitchen door. Quietly, she padded across the floor and grabbed the crocheted blanket from the sofa. She knew her maem was napping, having finished the cleaning earlier and claiming a headache from s
o much activity. Kate knew otherwise. Her maem’s headaches came more frequently now that spring had arrived. Whether it was allergies or stress, Kate didn’t know. Whatever it was, it would pass eventually.
Back outside, she gently laid the blanket over David’s lap. “Better?”
“No.”
She ignored his negative response. It was her coping mechanism for dealing with David. She had learned it from years of practice. “Want me to push your chair into the sun? It’ll be warmer there.”
“Why? So I can watch you garden better? I think not!”
“Suit yourself,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. Each day, it was increasingly difficult to ignore the scornful remarks that he tossed in her direction. It was a game. At least that was how she saw it. The harder she tried to ignore him, the harder he tried to annoy her.
Finished with tending to David’s needs, she couldn’t walk away from the porch fast enough. With each step, she felt as if she could breathe a little bit easier. Distance, she thought. That is the best remedy for dealing with David. The tightness in her chest dissipated as she returned to the garden, just on the other side of the porch, and grabbed the hoe that she had set against the wire fence.
Order . . . that was what she needed in her garden, just as she needed it in her life. The rows of dirt with recently planted seeds were free of weeds and that was how she intended to keep it. She smoothed the dirt between each row, using the hoe to rake out any growing plants.
“Kate!”
She ignored him, pretending that she didn’t hear him. It was easy to do. Instead of responding, she concentrated on the raking motion, counting each movement: one, two, three. A root emerged and she knelt down to pick it up to toss into her rubbish pile.
“Kate! I need you!”
Shutting her eyes, she clenched the muscles in her jaw. If only the younger girls were home, she thought as she tossed down the hoe and turned around, refusing to look in David’s direction. Miriam and Becca had asked for permission to visit Susan after school, wanting to see Ruth Ann. Kate couldn’t fault them for that, but she sure wished they were home now.
“Kate!” There was panic in his voice this time.
Figuring that she’d get an earful from both David and her parents for ignoring his cries of help, she picked up her pace. “I’m coming. I’m coming!” she called back.
As she rounded the corner of the house, she finally lifted her eyes to look at him. What she saw startled her. He was sprawled across the porch, his legs twisted beneath the upside-down wheelchair.
“David!” Running toward him, she instantly felt a wave of guilt. He had needed her and she had ignored him. Again. “What happened?”
“I had to wait for you, that’s what happened!” He swatted at her hands as she tried to lift him. With fire in his eyes, he snapped at her. “Go get help!”
Go get help.
Immediately, Kate released David and stood up. Wasn’t that what David had said the night of the accident? Only he hadn’t sounded angry that night; he had sounded scared. Scared because he couldn’t move. Scared because Ruth was pinned beneath him. Scared because, in the cold darkness, he sensed that everything in his life had just changed.
“I’ll get Daed,” she mumbled as she scrambled to her feet and ran toward the barn.
The barn was empty. She called for Daed, but he was nowhere in sight. “Daed!” she called again. No response.
The door at the back of the barn was opened. Thinking that, mayhaps, he was working out there, she ran toward it, calling his name again. But instead of finding Daed, she noticed a gray-topped buggy pulling into the driveway. Waving her arms, she ran toward the buggy, both surprised and relieved to see Samuel.
She stopped short and tried to catch her breath, one hand on the side of his buggy and the other on her chest as she gulped for air.
“What is it, Kate?”
“David. He’s fallen from his chair and I can’t lift him.”
“Is he hurt, then?” Samuel asked as he stepped on the brake and set down the reins.
“Nee, I don’t think so.”
“Well then,” Samuel said, jumping down from the buggy. “Let’s go see what I can do to help, ja?”
He walked behind her, his long legs taking deep strides while she half ran, half walked toward the house. Clearly, her sense of urgency was not mirrored by Samuel. He remained calm and collected, the complete opposite of how Kate felt. She envied his sense of control and, as she neared the porch, realized that the only panic over the situation had come from her.
Suddenly, she felt foolish.
Samuel didn’t seem to notice as he knelt beside David, resting his hand on the side of the wheelchair. “Well now,” he said, drawing out each word. “Looks like you have yourself in a pickle here.”
“It’s not a joke,” David snapped. “Get me up.”
Samuel raised an eyebrow. Kate felt the color flood to her cheeks and looked away. “You can’t get up by yourself, then?”
“I said get me up! I wouldn’t ask if I could!”
Taking a deep breath, Samuel stood up and took his time righting the wheelchair before he reached for David’s arms and lifted him into the air. Gently, he lowered David into the chair and paused to set his legs properly on the footrests. Kate leaned over to pick up the blanket and place it over his legs.
“What happened anyway?”
David scowled, his eyes darting toward Kate. “She didn’t come when I called. My blanket fell and I couldn’t reach it! She’d rather garden than respond when I need something!”
She noticed Samuel frown. Immediately, she saw the situation as Samuel surely did: a disabled young man in trouble and a negligent sister who didn’t respond in time to help. Her shame forced her to look away, suddenly wishing that Samuel had not shown up at all. While she felt grateful for his assistance, she could do very well without him having witnessed this outburst from her brother.
“I see,” Samuel said, his voice deep and thoughtful.
“Do you?” David’s hands clutched at the arms of his wheelchair, his fingers curling over the edge and his knuckles white with rage. “Because if you actually do ‘see,’ you’re the first one who actually does!”
For a moment, Samuel did not move. He seemed to digest what David said. Kate backed away from her brother, staring at the ground as she waited for Samuel to say something . . . anything to break the silence. Why hadn’t she come right away when David called her? The entire situation could have been avoided and Samuel would not have been subjected to the explosive environment that was the Zook farm. But he remained silent, not responding. Instead, he merely placed his hand on David’s shoulder, a gesture of comfort she noticed that took her brother by surprise.
“Best get going,” he mumbled and started down the porch steps. At the bottom, he paused. Kate watched the ground, where his shadow fell on the walkway. She was startled when she saw the shadow turn back, looking over his shoulder in her direction. “Kate,” he said. “You have a minute, then?”
She nodded her head, her eyes still on the ground. Without looking, she knew that David was glaring at her, his eyes boring a hole in her back.
Samuel headed down the walkway, slowing down to let Kate catch up. In silence they walked, side by side, across the driveway and through the barn. With his hands thrust into his front pockets and his head bent down, he appeared deep in thought. It gave Kate time to wonder what he thought, her fear growing that he might inquire about what David had meant.
He didn’t.
On the other side of the barn, Samuel stood by his buggy. He stared at her for a long second before he tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “You OK?”
His question caught her by surprise. It had been a long time since anyone inquired about how she was. She tried to think of a response, knowing that the typical answer was
“Ja.” Only she knew he’d suspect that she was not speaking the truth. She guessed he wasn’t seeking a thoughtless answer. So instead of responding, she focused on how to provide him with a good answer.
For the past four months, everything had been about David. First, the family had spent days worrying about whether he would live. Then they’d spent weeks worried about his inability to move his legs. When David had finally come home, confined to a wheelchair and the good will of others, their concern shifted to how he would adapt to all of this.
No one had ever asked how she was faring . . . whether she was OK.
No one until now.
“I . . . I . . .” She couldn’t decide how to answer his question. The layers were too deep and she dared not try to peel through them. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
He shook his head. “Then I take it that means not well.”
“I didn’t mean that,” she gushed, hoping that she didn’t sound like she was complaining. She hadn’t meant it that way. “It’s just that . . . I’m not used to . . .” Flustered, she paused and tilted her head, meeting his eyes for the first time. “Why are you here anyway?”
Startled by the sudden shift of conversation, Samuel frowned. “Excuse me?”
“I mean . . . why were you here? You were pulling into the driveway when I was looking for Daed.”
“Ah!” He forced a smile. “Ja, about that . . .”
In the distance, Kate could hear her daed walking in from the fields. He was talking to himself in Dutch, something she had caught him doing on more than one occasion. Her eyes flickered over Samuel’s shoulders in the direction of Daed’s voice. He hadn’t rounded the bend yet and noticed Samuel’s buggy parked next to the far end of the barn.
“I was wondering if you might be at your aendi’s this Saturday.”
That was an unusual question, indeed! “Ja, I hadn’t heard otherwise.”