by Unknown
Elizabeth had her hands full, trying to ring up everything under the sun, but she managed to motion for him to walk over. When he did, she turned away from what she was doing and whispered, “Abel's gone?”
“Yeah.”
“I can't take any more orders from you.” She turned back to the customers while Jacob's world collapsed. Just like that, for his brother’s mistake, he lost everything he cared about and now Jacob didn't know how he was going to make a living.
*****
Sarah should've been keeping her eyes on the road, but she couldn't, not with her entire life crashing around her. The eggs would get them through for a few days, but it wouldn't be enough for any longer than that. They were going to need a ranch hand, somebody reliable this time, who could be there when she needed them.
She looked back at her daughter, smiling with her hands folded in her lap. The pious angel never knew pain or hunger. She wouldn't let her. But now there might be nothing Sarah could do. She loved her daughter so much, she'd give her arms for the girl just to make sure she made it the rest of her life without knowing what it meant to go without. Even that wouldn't be enough.
It was sunny and beautiful, with wet air slamming Sarah in the face while she sat at the head of the buggy. This would be a nice day to run through the field or go to the lake, but that wouldn't be possible with all of the things she had to worry about. Why did life have to be so cruel? They were doing so well, even after Jethro died. They kept things up for a while, but they just got stuck in a downward spiral and now their lives were over.
She was not giving up. Sarah was a fighter. She fought all these years. She would keep fighting. This time, she would fight more than she'd ever fought in her entire life and somehow someway they'd get through. They had to. That's just the way life is. You fight until Gott takes you in his arms and you don't have to fight any longer. Until then, Sarah would give everything she could to make sure that her daughter could eat.
The ride home was fast, though she was forced to pull aside for several cars to get by. Once she got there, she got Miriam out of the car and set their money aside in a kitchen drawer. “Mommy,” Miriam pulled on her dress.
“Yes, sweetie.”
“Can I go out and play.”
“No. Come on.”
She had to know. If she couldn't get help from Abel, she had to know what happened. He could still be there. She couldn't give up on him. Maybe he was sick, or even hungover. If he was, she would give him a thrashing, but at least he'd still be there. He had to be there. If he wasn't, she didn't know what she was going to do.
Sarah grabbed Miriam and put her back in the buggy. In truth, she was going out on a limb thinking that Abel would be there. He wasn't there. She knew that, but she couldn't take the risk of not finding out what happened.
He could just be there, taking a day off while she freaked out over nothing. This was the first time he hadn't showed up, sure, but she wouldn't put it past him to take a day off without notice. She'd catch him behind the barn, sitting sometimes when he should be working. It made sense that he would do something like this, especially with the way he'd been degrading.
Sarah sped her horses as fast as she could, careful to avoid any cars or obstacles that might be any way. Miriam was laughing, and bouncing up and down. She could always bring a smile to Sarah's face. She looked back, “Are you having fun?”
“Bouncy, bouncy,” she laughed.
Sarah slowed her pace when she started nearing the ranch. She'd never been to Abel's house before, but she knew where it was, just off the highway, halfway between her house and the general store. It was surprisingly well-kept with a lawn and freshly painted walls. There was even a porch with hand carved knobs on the railings and a swing for sitting on. She pulled up near the front.
“Stay here, OK?”
“OK, Mommy.” Miriam bounced up and down.
Sarah didn't want her to see him if he was drunk or unkempt. In truth, she shouldn't be there. It was immodest, but she didn't care at this point. She needed his help, and if he was there, he was going to give it to her, even if she had to drag him there on the back of her buggy.
The porch steps were made of good hard wood that didn't creak, and the porch itself had been painted a beautiful burgundy color. Who was Abel that he could be so lazy and gluttonous and still made a house like this.
Sarah knocked on the door. She heard footsteps, which must mean that he was there. When the door opened, she couldn't see him through the screen. “Where have you been?”
“I'm sorry.” The voice that came back was low and sweet. “Oh, you're the lady from the store.” The man opened the door.
“Who are you? Where's Abel?”
“Well,” the man sighed, “he left.”
“Oh, no.” She didn't want to cry, but he didn't react. He wasn't demeaning or rude. In fact, when she looked up she saw that he seemed just as upset as she was.
“He was my brother.”
“I'm so sorry,” she shook her head.
“It's OK.”
“I'm Sarah. My daughter Miriam is in the buggy. He was our ranch hand and when he didn't come this morning, he left us with nothing. You see, I have to get my fields tended to or I don't know how I'm going to be able to feed her.”
“Well, when they shunned him, they told me not to come back to the general store.”
“You used to make furniture?”
“I did. I can't now. Not with him leaving and all.”
“Then can you tend my field?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Oh, thank goodness. That's the best news I've had all day. I thought we were going to go hungry.”
They waited for an awkward moment, while he bashfully kicked his foot. “It was hard, losing him today. I won't let him hurt you like that.”
“Thank you. Would you like to come now?”
“Sure. Let me just get my things and I'll drive my buggy over there.”
It was all going to go OK. She didn't even have to fight, not really. “What's your name?” She asked before leaving.
“Jacob.”
“Jacob, you just saved our lives.”
*****
There was a little bit of meat stowed away in the pantry, canned and ready to cook. It wasn't much, but it was something. It was called an Amish TV dinner, though there was no TV of course—just salted pork belly and potatoes with a few steamed carrots on the side.
Sarah wasn't much for cooking that evening. All she wanted to do was rest, but she needed to get Miriam something. The girl had been bouncing all day, outside, inside and all around, driving Sarah half-crazy while she was trying to make dinner. It was, of course, the most darling thing ever, but that didn't make it any less antagonizing.
Sarah had to st down at some point. Dinner was resting in the oven to keep it hot, and the sun was setting over the thick meadow. Jacob was a hard worker, nothing like his brother. He could get a quarter of the wheat done in a day, and would have the entire field down within a week.
Sarah watched him closely at first, uncertain as to how he would be considering his brother's behavior, but they were like night and day. While Abel was lazy and contrite, Jacob was quiet and hard working. His predicament was sad, and he deserved to be allowed to make furniture, but she was glad she was able to give him some work, even if it wasn't much, and it wasn't. She had very little to give him, but he didn't mind. He was doing it more out of charity than anything else.
Sarah watched the flecks of golden wheat flying into the air while the horse-drawn grain harvester pulled it out of the ground so it could be gathered and stored in bails and sold at the store. Each one would be enough to eat for another day, which meant that she would have enough that year to eat and have a little money left over. He saved her, and he was a good worker.
He could stay as long as he wanted and work until he found another way to do what he loved. The man was a carpenter, and he made that clear, but he would come any time she n
eeded him to. When the flecks of grain stopped flying into the air, and the horses stopped, he dismounted and began walking them back into the cattle pen. He hustled. He didn't do anything slow, not like Abel, and he seemed to enjoy the work rather than be disgusted by it. He was a true Amish man unlike his brother.
Sarah got up after a bit, having noticed Jacob' sweaty figure walking back. She grabbed a basin and some water and brought out a pitcher of tea and a glass and left it on the porch for him. “How's it going?” She asked when he walked up.
“It's alright. I haven't worked like that in a long time. It helps you think, and after what happened with Abel I needed that.”
“I'm glad.” She poured him some tea and handed him a glass then bade him to wash up. “I've got supper going.”
“Sounds alright.” He finished washing and poured out the water.
“Mama! Mama!” Miriam ran up behind Sarah. “He's eating with us?”
“He sure is,” she beamed down at her.
“What's your name, little one.” He walked over to where she was jumping up and down on the porch.
“Miriam.”
“It's nice to meet you, Miriam. I'm Jacob.” He offered her his hand and she shook it.
“Mama, I like him,” Miriam turned back.
“You do?” Sarah rushed down, and tickled her daughter. “Well I like you.”
Miriam hugged her mother's leg when Sarah sat back up. “It's nice having you here. You're so different from...” She stopped herself.
“From my brother? Oh, I know. You don't have to spare me none.” He laughed. “It's been coming for a long time. I just have to bury him.” You bury the shunned with no coffin and a gravestone as a way of moving on.
“Come on,” Sarah turned back into the kitchen, mostly to deflect from the conversation. She didn't want Miriam to know about leaving. The last thing she needed was for her to get an idea when she got older.
She pulled out the skillet from the oven and plates from the cupboard. “I hope you like pork belly, Jacob.”
He laughed and sat down at the table. “Doesn't everyone?”
“Yes.” Miriam sat down next to him. “And if you don't,” she stuck her tongue out.
“Miriam...” Sarah admonished her.
“I sorry, Mama.”
“That's alright.” She set the plates down along with a fresh jug of tea. “Would you like to say grace, Jacob?”
“Sure.” His eloquent Dutch prayer reminded Sarah of Jethro and the way he used to draw out the words of the soft subtle language.
Jacob was the first to take a bite even before Miriam. He ate his food quickly, yet politely enjoying every bit of it. When they were done, Miriam started to get tired, so Sarah brought her upstairs. Then she pulled an Amish lantern into the living room and sat down with Jacob on the couch.
“I noticed the barn is a bit bigger than most, but it's empty.”
“I know it. My husband died when she was younger and we ended up having to sell everything we had just to survive. When your brother left, he took our last hope with him. You saved us.” She turned to him. “I just want you to know how grateful I am.”
“That little girl doesn't deserve that kind of hurt. Even if he wasn't gone, I'd have taken his place, no matter what.”
“You're a good man, Jethro. I just wish I had a man that could stay around here with her. She needs that.”
“I'll be around.”
*****
Miriam was flitting around like a fairy, flapping her arms around the kitchen while Sarah took a rest on the porch with a pitcher of tea. Half of a field was nearing completion and she could almost cry. It was so wonderful.
That man was a blessing. She was grieving the loss of his brother with him, but things were better off now that he was working with them. The next morning when he came, just before sunrise, he was ready to work, not loafing around and asking for coffee the way Abel did.
It was getting close to noon and Sarah had to think of dinner. She was able to get a slab of beef that morning at the store. It would go good with a little salad and carrots. She also planned to have Jacob take in some of the wheat so she could get a few things for the house. That meant that he probably wouldn't be able to stay for dinner.
It was a shame that he couldn't stay, though. He was good with Miriam and it would be nice to sit and talk like the night before. It would be good to have somebody around. He sat and talked with her a little earlier over, told her how his family were all carpenters and that he was carrying on his father's work. Such an honorable man—very tradition oriented. He cared about family, and carrying on the ways of the Amish. He didn't break the rules of the Ordnung the way that Jacob did. In fact, he strictly kept to them. Never once was he immodest or impolite. He was an Amish man.
How could two brothers be so different from one another?
The black outline of a buggy started to make its way along the highway. It was the bishop's wife, Maggy. Sarah could tell just by getting a glimpse at the window. She was small, but boisterous, and always fun to talk to.
When the carriage slowed down, Sarah walked in to get a plate of cookies that she sometimes set aside for such visits and a jug of tea. When she got to the door to bring it out, Sarah could tell by the bishop wife's face that they would be taking their tea inside.
Sarah set her things on the table and walked up to answer the door. “Well hello, Maggie”
“Hello, Sarah.” She walked in and sat herself at the table, but she didn't seem to want any of the cookies. “Who is that man out there?”
“Which one? Oh, you mean Jacob? Well, certainly you know him.”
“I do, and I don't think it's OK for you to be seeing him, or having him around your daughter. His brother just left the order, and there's been talk about him asking Jacob to leave with him.”
“Yes, of course.” Sarah grabbed a rag and started clearing the table while Maggie saw herself out.
He was being shunned too. It wasn't right, but that's the way things go. There's rumors like this one about Jacob that are spread around through the community. It's called Amish telephone. Everyone talks. He wasn't really going with his brother. He was just a victim of Amish telephone.
But what was Sarah supposed to do? She couldn't just go without him. She would still have to have the fields tended. There was no way that much grain would last through the entire winter. Maggie had put Sarah in a precarious position, and it could cost her a lot.
She could lose everything, her house, her buggy. If she had to sell the house she would. She'd been planning on it for a while, and she was certain she could get the bishop to assist in the sale, which mean they would probably be willing to help her find a small place in the meantime.
The money from the sale would make do for a long time. They could eat out the winter while they found a better place. It was the right thing to do. She'd been putting this off for too long. Life would easier this way.
Sarah walked outside to pull Maggie off the porch and sat her down in the living room. Then she knelt down in front of her. “I have to have you stay in your room for a little bit. Then I'll come down and get you. Is that OK?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Thank you.” She kissed Miriam on the forehead and went outside once Miriam was upstairs.
It wasn't right, but it had to be done. Sarah just kept telling herself that. She didn't want to tell Jacob to leave, she wanted him around every single day. That's all that she had to look forward to.
She walked off the porch and shielded her eyes from the light while she fought through the thick wheat to get to where he was driving the horses. He slowed the horses and got down, crunching through the wheat stalks. “Aw,” he wiped his forehead. “Figure I can get through the end of that row by sundown.”
Sarah wanted to keep that fantasy alive, but she couldn't. “Bishop's wife came by. Told me I ought to get a ranch hand.”
“Well are they offering one to you or leaving you out in the cold, Sarah
.”
“The latter.” She held her head down low so she didn't have to look at him. “I wanted you to stay. I can't stand this.”
“I know. It's better for you, though, if I leave. I don't want you to be getting shunned.”
“I won't. I have to do it. You're right.”
He put his hand on her shoulder and she cried. He let her stay there as long as she needed to let it go. She didn't stay long, and she didn't bring him back to get some water first. If you're shunned, you can't receive anything from the Amish.
When Sarah walked inside, Miriam was sitting at the table in the kitchen. “You asked him to leave?”
“I had to.”
Miriam grabbed the cookies off the counter and ran up to her room. Sarah couldn't blame her for being upset. Sarah was terrified.
*****
“Miriam,” Sarah's knocked on her daughter's door.
“Go away.” Her curt reply let Sarah know that she was really upset.
“Come on, sweetie. Listen to me, will you?”
Miriam stamped her way to the door and unlocked it. “What?”
“We're not gonna have to worry anymore. “Yay!” She three her arm up a little enthusiastically. Miriam's shoulders slumped, then she tried to close the door. Sarah stopped it with her foot. “We're going to have tea and cookies at Maggie's house.”
Miriam frowned up at her then jumped onto the bed. “I don't wanna go.”
“Well, you don't have a choice.” Sarah went downstairs while Maggie got ready. It would be a shame to give up on the place she first had with Jethro. There were so many memories. They watched Miriam take her first steps, and heard her first words. They had Christmas dinner on the table every single year and loads of gifts, all within a few feet from where she was standing.
She shook her head. Life doesn't get any better. It decays. It gets worn away until there's nothing left. That's what was happening. The farm was dying without Jethro there. Jacob was gone. He was such a good man, too. She could see herself with somebody as honorable as he was.