by Sarah Price
“But I best not be misleading you none.” She shook her head, as if convincing herself. “Nee, that’s the truth, Samuel. You are a gut man and have a right gut reputation. It wouldn’t do you any good to be seen courting someone like me.”
“I see,” was all he managed to say.
The door opened to the mudroom and she could hear her parents, talking softly between each other before they entered the kitchen. Kate turned around, ashamed at herself for having cried in front of Samuel. With her back turned, she didn’t have to face her parents or Samuel.
“Everything all right, then?” she heard her daed ask.
Samuel sounded upbeat when he responded, but Kate detected a hint of heartache in his voice. “Ja, of course,” he said. “But I reckon I best be headed out anyway. Daed will need my help with chores, too.” Kate heard him crossing the floor, slowly, toward her parents, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to see him shake their hands. “Sure do thank you for supper,” he said.
Daed mumbled something, too low for Kate to hear; she suspected it was an apology for David’s outburst.
Before Samuel left, he paused at the door and turned, observing Kate for a long moment. When she realized that he was watching her and lifted her eyes to meet his, he forced a weak smile. “See you later, then?”
Kate turned her gaze away from him, the slight shake of her head meant to indicate otherwise.
She stood there, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest long after the sound of his horse and buggy disappeared down the road. Frozen in place, she rehashed the events of the evening, knowing that it was for the best that Samuel knew and could make his own informed decision. Still, the pain in her heart was more terrible than she’d expected. Without Samuel, her future looked as bleak as David’s.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The following week, Kate felt invisible. She worked at her regular time and went through the motions of her chores. But her heart was no longer joyful. Gone were her smiles and cheerful nature. Silence followed her as she milked the cows, weeded the garden, and helped her maem in the kitchen.
At first, her silence was met with respect and understanding. When her appetite disappeared, however, Maem began to show an abundance of concern.
“You’ve barely touched your plate, Kate,” she scolded one night.
Kate lifted her shoulders in an apologetic shrug. What could she do? Hunger evaded her. What little she did eat seemed to sit in her stomach like a rock that caused pain. Food was tasteless. Colors were flat. Sounds, merely background noise.
Every night, immediately after supper, she excused herself and retreated to her room where, for an hour, she knelt beside the bed, her hands folded and her head tipped in prayer. Despite knowing she was already forgiven by God, she found it hard to believe. She prayed for the strength to accept the forgiveness afforded by God. The harder she prayed, the more despondent she felt.
David, however, seemed to take satisfaction in Kate’s silent show of melancholy.
As much as possible, her parents tried to find ways to keep the two of them separated, knowing that David fed off her sorrow. Kate heard them whispering outside her door, trying to figure out what to do. Since David was not a baptized member of the church, they could not get the bishop or deacons involved. His handicap limited them in putting him out of the house, which they didn’t want to do as such a decision felt unchristian. Yet they knew that something had to be done.
On Friday and Saturday, Kate helped her daed with a hay cutting, spending the majority of her day outdoors in the sun. With no rain in the forecast, the hay needed to be cut and raked so that it could dry for a few days before baling. Any moisture in the bales could cause composting, which had been known to ignite and cause barn fires. Seasoned farmers knew to wait before baling, while younger farmers often learned the hard way.
By Sunday afternoon, Kate felt exhausted and stayed in bed, claiming aches in both her head and her body. To her relief, Maem left her alone, checking in on her only twice with fresh water and some frozen soup that she’d reheated on the stove.
By evening, as the sun dipped over the horizon, Miriam rapped twice on the door before poking her head inside. “You awake?”
Kate sat up in bed. “Ja, I am.”
Without being invited, Miriam slipped inside and shut the door behind herself. “Feeling any better, then?”
Kate shook her head.
“Mayhaps this will help, I don’t know,” Miriam said, her eyes showing her concern for Kate. “But Samuel was here earlier.”
Kate shut her eyes and leaned her head against the headboard of her bed. “Whatever for?” And then she remembered that Daed had hired Samuel to help with baling hay that next week. She groaned and sank down under her covers. “Why did Daed have to hire him?”
Sitting down on the mattress at the foot of the bed, Miriam curled up, her legs tucked under her as she stared at her older sister. “Kate, I thought you cared for Samuel,” she said, an expression of confused curiosity on her face.
“It’s not that easy, Miriam,” Kate responded. “There are things you just can’t understand.”
“Like what?” Miriam wasn’t about to give up easily. “Explain them to me.”
Sighing, Kate looked at her sister. She was almost fourteen, and in two years, young men would be able to court her. Perhaps, she thought, Miriam needs to learn the significance of choices made for our future.
“Samuel is a gut man,” she started. “He has a wunderbar reputation and will make a fine husband to a godly and righteous woman, Miriam.”
Miriam nodded her head in agreement.
“That woman is not me.”
At this, Miriam looked surprised. “Why not?”
Kate sighed and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “I do care for Samuel, Miriam. But I care enough about him to know that he needs a woman who is better than I am. Besides, Maem and Daed need my help with David. If I married and moved away, that would put an undue burden on you and Becca. It’s not your fault that David is bound to the wheelchair and can’t help. Your future shouldn’t be affected.”
“And yours should?”
Kate wanted to tell Miriam the truth. She wanted to share about David being drunk, a sinner aligned with Satan over whiskey. But to admit that would be slanderous against both him and Ruth, for surely she had been drinking, too. Or, if not, she knew David had been.
And then would come the questions about how Kate had known David drank and didn’t tell anyone. Kate would have to confess to her sister that she had refused to get in the buggy, and allowed Ruth to ride to her death beside her intoxicated brother. It was a confession that Kate could not make. Not today.
“I can’t explain it any better than to say that I have my reasons,” she finally offered. “And it’s best that Samuel not come calling or that I ride in his buggy anymore since I’ve vowed to help Maem and Daed with David.”
Despite the fact that, clearly, Miriam was not pleased with this explanation, to Kate’s relief, she asked no further questions. She did, however, point out the obvious. “Well, Samuel will be baling that hay this week,” she said as she stood up and walked toward the door. “You can’t be avoiding him, Kate.”
“I’m not avoiding him,” Kate responded, although she didn’t know how true that was.
Miriam gave her a concerned look before she opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. Kate listened to the sound of her sister’s bare feet on the wooden stairs as she descended to the kitchen. The third step creaked and Kate leaned back into her pillow, shutting her eyes once again.
On Wednesday, Kate had the opportunity to prove to Miriam the very words she spoke on Sunday regarding not avoiding Samuel. With rain in the forecast for Friday, Daed did not want to wait until Thursday to bale the hay. She awoke that morning knowing that Samuel would most c
ertainly be there all day. She dreaded his presence, viewing it as a reminder of the pain she still felt over the way he had learned the truth about her sins.
If she expected him to act forlorn or avoid her, she was immediately surprised. While he seemed a bit reserved and less jovial than usual, he greeted her pleasantly as usual, then immediately focused on his work. Having helped his own daed with the baling of hay for many years, he didn’t need instruction to know how to work the baler. Kate followed his direction, helping to stack the bales on the back of the wagon.
Daed drove the mules, four of them pulling the red baler. Samuel rode on the wagon, grabbing the bales as they emerged from the machinery. It was Kate’s job to take them and stack them at the end of the long, flat wagon bed. When the stack grew too high for Kate to reach, Samuel indicated that she should sit on top, and he began tossing her the bales.
At one point she thought she saw him smile at her, and when she reached up her hand, she realized that pieces of hay were caught in the bandanna that covered her head. Embarrassed, she plucked them out and dropped them over the side of the wagon.
By the end of the morning, the one hayfield was finished and they were ready to start on the back field.
“Best be stopping for dinner, I reckon,” Daed said as he stood by the wagon, his straw hat in one hand as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the other. “We’ll need to unload this before we start on the back field.”
Samuel peered at the sun. The still air and bright sun made it feel ten degrees hotter than it really was. His shirt was soaked with sweat, his hair matted to his head. But he had not slowed down once during the morning. “I can unload them during dinner,” he said. “Will make it faster for the afternoon, ja?”
Daed started to argue but thought twice about it. Kate wondered if he, too, was considering the fact that Samuel might not want to share a meal with David after the outburst the previous weekend. Truth be told, she didn’t blame him. Many evenings, Kate wished that she, too, could be excused from sitting at the table with him. Her disappointment in her brother was countered only by the disappointment she felt in herself.
To her astonishment, Daed motioned toward her as he responded to Samuel’s offer. “She can help,” he said. “Never eats much anyway. Plus, I’ll have one of the girls bring out a plate for both of you.”
Samuel glanced at her. “You up for that, Kate?”
His question surprised her. Why would he ask her that question? “Ja, of course,” she heard herself say, lowering her eyes.
It was one thing to work alongside Samuel with Daed nearby. Now, however, she would be forced to work with him alone in the upper level of the barn while they unloaded the wagon. Given the amount of hay, she knew it would take about forty minutes, just enough time for Daed to enjoy his noon meal.
At first, they worked in silence. Samuel helped her, tossing the bales from the top of the wagon to the floor of the barn. Then, he jumped down and began stacking the bales. He made certain to keep the new pile separate from the old bales of hay, which, like any good farmer, Samuel surely knew Daed would want to use first, depleting his old inventory of hay before he started using the new.
As the stacks of hay grew higher, Kate tried to help him lift the bales. With hay in her dress and hair, she sneezed twice, the dust particles tickling her nose.
“God bless,” he mumbled as he shoved a bale on top of the stacked hay.
She started to thank him but sneezed once again, this time taking a step backward in the process and tumbling over two bales of hay behind her. She fell down, landing in a pile of loose straw, a bewildered and embarrassed look on her face.
At this, he could no longer contain himself, and laughed loud and long.
Scrambling to her feet, she gave him an indignant look as she brushed the hay and dust from her dress. “I’m not certain what could possibly be humorous about that!”
He jumped down from the haystack and helped brush the hay from her clothing. When he finished, he stood before her, meeting her gaze, his eyes jovial instead of sorrowful. “Kate Zook! You have some explaining to do.”
“I do?”
He nodded. “Ja, indeed. And not about falling, if that’s what you are thinking.”
“Then about what, Samuel?”
He took her hand in his and led her over to the side of the wagon. Without asking permission, he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her so that she could sit on the edge. He glanced over her shoulder as if to make certain that no one was coming. Clearly, he didn’t want to be interrupted.
Standing before her, he crossed his arms over his chest, quietly assessing her for a few long, drawn-out seconds. Finally, he cleared his throat and started to speak. “I stopped by last Sunday to pick you up for the singing,” he said.
She started to respond, but he held up his hand, stopping her before she could speak.
“Let me finish, Kate,” he commanded. “I understand why you didn’t want to go out that one Sunday. Your bruder David is a hurtful young man.” The way that Samuel said that, Kate could sense his outrage over what had happened. “But why wouldn’t you go with me? I’d like to know your reasoning.”
When he stopped talking, she realized that he was waiting for her response.
“I told you, Samuel,” she said, afraid to meet his steady gaze. “I told you that it wouldn’t do you any good to be courting someone like me.”
“Ah!” He uncrossed his arms and lifted a finger in the air. “That is where the explanation is needed. I want to understand this better, Kate. I want to understand what exactly you mean.” He placed his hands on either side of her and peered into her face. “What does that mean? Someone like you?”
Pressing her lips together, she frowned. Was he really going to make her rehash this once again? “I’m a sinner, Samuel. Pure and simple. A sinner.”
Immediately, he sobered, realizing the seriousness in her voice. “You said that the other night.” He paused and tilted his head. “So you are a sinner?”
“I am,” she admitted.
“And this sin is so great that even God cannot forgive you?”
“Scripture says so.”
“It does?” He looked genuinely surprised. “What was this sin, Kate? If my future is to be determined by your resolve that you have such a great sin that even God would not forgive it, I believe I have the right to know what it is.”
She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. In her mind, the words came easy. She thought them over and over again for months on end. Now, for the first time, she was to confess them out loud. She knew that, most likely, it would not be the last time.
“Samuel, I did not do the right thing.” She waited for his response. There was none. “And . . . and by not doing so, I ruined two lives.”
He frowned, seeming to contemplate her words. “I knew David drank alcohol,” she whispered. “I even knew he was drinking that night of the accident. I refused to ride in the buggy with him. We even argued about it.” She paused. “It was snowing.”
Samuel nodded. “I remember.”
Kate felt encouraged to continue. “I could smell it on him. Whiskey. And I told him that I wouldn’t get in the buggy with him. I’d rather walk home . . . alone and in the snow than ride with a drunk.”
The memory of David’s drunken arrival that night remained as fresh to her as did the image of the broken bodies in the wrecked buggy.
Samuel continued looking into her eyes.
“I saw Ruth in the buggy.” She felt the tears spill from her eyes. “I had the opportunity to warn her, to tell her that he wasn’t right in the head. But I didn’t. Just like I never told Daed about his drinking.” She cried freely, her hands covering her face. “Then I found them. I was the first person to happen upon the accident. I saw that she was dead and thought David might die, too. I raced home and woke up my parents. I
t was my punishment for having kept the secret.”
She saw his chest rise and fall, a heavy sigh escaping through his parted lips. He moved his head and looked at her, considering her with those blue eyes that, for once, lacked joy.
“I should have warned her. I didn’t do the right thing, Samuel.” She wiped at her eyes with her fingertips, wishing that she had a handkerchief in her pocket. “Don’t you know that God is with those who do what is right?” She lowered her eyes, too ashamed to look at Samuel as she confessed what was on her mind. “I didn’t warn anyone, Samuel. I didn’t do what was right.”
She felt a tightness in her chest and tears in her eyes. She worried about his reaction; he was too quiet. “And then there was Jacob.”
“Jacob?”
She nodded her head, gulping air to force away the sob that crept into her throat. “I was tending our farm stand by the road for Maem and watching David and Jacob. I sent Jacob and David across the road to play in the big field. I should have been watching them; they were so small.”
“What happened, Kate?”
The memory remained fresh, the two little boys racing across the field, David beating Jacob by a long shot. Kate had been at the stand, rearranging the baked goods on the shelf when she saw them and called out for them to stop and wait. In hindsight, she knew she should have immediately crossed the street to get them. She didn’t. And David didn’t stop as she instructed. Instead, he ran across the road, laughing about having beat Jacob.
Kate looked up just as the car hit him. The woman had been on her cell phone, not paying attention. Jacob had wanted to catch up to David and wasn’t old enough to know to look for cars before running into the road. It was an accident that had cost Jacob his life and nearly destroyed the family.
When the paramedics finally arrived, his small hand still clutched the roots of the black-eyed Susans and wild mint that he had collected for his maem.
“I . . . I should have never sent them to play in the field,” Kate whispered. “Or I should have fetched them. I didn’t, and he was killed. It was my fault, Samuel.” The tears began to fall down her cheeks and she did nothing to stop them. “My fault that Jacob was killed and my fault that David is crippled. I could have stopped both of those accidents.”