An Amish Harvest

by Patricia Davids

  “Samuel, you know full well if Verna Yoder is talking about you, everyone has heard what she has to say. The woman would gossip with a tree stump.”

  “She would be cranky, too, if she’d been through what I’ve been through.”

  “On that we can agree. She isn’t one to suffer in silence. But, we shouldn’t speak disparagingly of her. She is a member of our church and we must accept her, flaws and all, as a child of God. I’m sorry for my unkind thoughts, as I’m sure you are, too.”

  “I’ll keep my thoughts to myself so you can’t share them with Verna and who knows who else.”

  She laughed outright. “Smart man.”

  A grunt was his only reply.

  She softened her tone. “Do not fear. I will spread the word that you are a wunderbarr patient, Samuel. Easy to care for and sweet natured. Everyone will know you as kind and good-natured with never a cross word to be said about anyone.”

  A twitch at the corner of his mouth could have been a smile. “Then you’ll be guilty of lying.”

  “I think not. Is there anything you need before I go finish the laundry?”

  “My eyesight restored.”

  She heard the fear underlying his words even as he tried to make a joke out of it. “If God wills it, Samuel, it shall happen. Many people are praying for you.”

  “We both know prayers aren’t always answered.”

  A stab of familiar pain took her breath away. Her prayers for Walter’s recovery had gone unanswered, but in the last days of his illness, she finally understood that she had been praying for the wrong thing. “Our prayers are answered if we ask to humbly accept God’s will, Samuel.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that. Not until I understand why this happened to me.”

  She understood his despair and confusion. He felt betrayed. She had, too. “Why did He call my husband home so soon? I have no answer for that or for your injury. We must not question His will. We must accept that His plan is greater than we can see.”

  “Since I can’t see at all, that won’t be hard.”

  He was determined to look on the gloomy side of things. She would tolerate that for a while, but not for long. “God was merciful to you, Samuel. I’m surprised you don’t see that. Your clothes didn’t catch fire. You could have been burned everywhere.”

  “I had a large leather apron on over my clothes and wide leather cuffs over my sleeves to keep them from getting caught in the lathe. They protected my arms and body. I don’t know that God was looking out for me.”

  “How can you say that? Who prompted you to put on your apron and cuffs that morning? I am sorry this happened to you, Samuel. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like. I’m sure the pain is hard to bear, but not knowing if you will see again must be deeply frightening.”

  * * *

  Samuel pressed his lips tightly together. He didn’t want to talk about fear or the future. Changing the subject, he said, “I’m sorry you lost your husband.”

  Rebecca was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, “Danki.”

  Samuel heard the tightness in her voice. So it was still hard for her to speak about Walter. She must have loved him very much. Samuel didn’t want to feel sorry for her, but he did.

  “I never thanked you for adding the cedar panels to Walter’s coffin. It was a kind touch. How did you know he liked the smell of cedarwood?”

  “I once saw him admiring a cedar trinket box at our shop. He kept opening it and inhaling with a funny little smile on his face.”

  “I love the smell of cedar, too. It had a special meaning for us. Did he buy the box?”

  “He didn’t, but he told me he might be back for it. Later that same day, a tourist stopped in and purchased it. Walter came back the next day and I had to tell him it was gone. I made another one but he never came back to the shop. I learned later that he had taken sick. I should have brought it by the house, but I didn’t.”

  Had Walter been planning to buy it for her? Samuel wanted to ask what special meaning the scent held for them, but decided against it. It was much too personal a question. He didn’t want to start liking this bossy tyrant. He didn’t want to hear about her feelings for her husband, or how she survived his loss. He just wanted to be left alone with his own misery. “I’m tired now.”

  “I understand. Do you need anything before I go?”

  As soon as she spoke, he realized he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her company for a while longer. Her voice was pleasant when she wasn’t ordering him around or poking fun at him. Companionship wasn’t something he’d needed before. He worked best alone. He preferred it to having to watch others who couldn’t do a task as well or as quickly as he could. People frustrated him. His brothers frustrated him. Rebecca frustrated him. He didn’t like that he wanted her around.

  “I’m fine. Peace and quiet, that’s all I ask,” he snapped.

  “I’ll be downstairs if you need me, Samuel,” she said gently. It was an unspoken rebuke for his churlish attitude. And deserved.

  “I know. Call or fall on the floor to get your attention, whichever I prefer.”

  She laughed. “Something along those lines.”

  After she left his room, the sound of her laughter stayed in his mind. She had a pretty laugh. Not horsey or simpering. Rebecca Miller laughed like someone who enjoyed life. His grudging smile pulled at the bandages on his face and made him wince.

  His grin faded. Rebecca had faced great sorrow. How did she find the strength to be happy? He shared the same Amish faith she did. Was her faith stronger than his was? Or was she a stronger person? Was it true that she didn’t question God’s plan for her life? He had a hard time believing that. How could she not? No husband, no children. Her future must look bleak at times. As did his when he found the courage to think about it.

  Samuel listened for her throughout the next hour or so. He had no way of telling time. The days and nights tended to crawl by with nothing to do but feel pain. Rebecca kept humming or singing softly so he knew where she was. When he heard the washing machine running in the basement, he sat up gingerly on the side of his bed. His mother had an ancient wringer washer that his father had adapted to run off propane. Samuel knew Rebecca would be down there feeding the clothes through the wringer for a while. Standing slowly, he moved up the bed until his elbow touched the wall by his headboard.

  Although he was still unsure of his balance, he discovered he wasn’t afraid of falling on his face as long as he had the wall to lean on. He made one slow circuit of the room. He remembered the chest beneath the window in time to avoid stubbing his toe on it, but knocked his shin against the leg of his desk. It was a minor discomfort compared to his previous fall. How much damage had he inflicted on his burned hands?

  Rebecca had marked the bloodstains. Were they getting worse? Should he call her to check? He made his way back to bed first. He didn’t want her to know he had taken her suggestion for getting around.

  He lay down with a sigh of relief just as he heard her coming up the stairs. She came quietly to his side. After several minutes of silence, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Has the bleeding stopped?”

  “It has. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep.”

  “There isn’t any way for me to know that unless you speak, Samuel.”

  “I did speak.”

  “After I stood here in awkward silence for ages. Are you worn out after your stroll?”

  He almost denied that he had been up, but thought better of it. “How did you know?”

  “I noticed the papers on your desk had been disturbed and one was on the floor. The window isn’t open, so I knew they couldn’t have blown around.”

  “I bumped into it.”

  “I thought so.”

  He grudgingly gave her cred
it for her good idea. “Leaning against the wall makes it easier.”

  “I’m glad my suggestion was helpful.”

  He heard the front door open. “Samuel, I’m back. I’m sorry I was gone for so long. How are you?”

  His mother came charging up the stairs, breathless by the time she reached his bedside.

  “I’m fine, Mamm.”

  “So many people have stopped by to ask about you. I must’ve told the same story about your injury ten times already today. I thought I would never get free.”

  “Samuel and I have gotten along fabulously. I changed his sheets. He was up in the chair and even took a short walk. I’m very pleased with him.”

  His mother laid her hand on his cheek. “You haven’t overdone it, have you, Samuel? The doctor warned against that. I would feel dreadful if you suffered a setback. Is the pain worse? I don’t know why she thought you needed to be up.”

  He’d forgotten the pain in his hands and his face for a short time while he was talking with Rebecca. They came roaring back to life now although the pain pill was taking the edge off. “I might have overdone it.”

  “Is that blood on your bandages?”

  “It’s nothing to worry about. He bumped it, but the bleeding has stopped,” Rebecca said calmly.

  “You shouldn’t have let him get up.”

  “Maybe we should let him rest for a while and discuss this downstairs,” Rebecca suggested.

  “An excellent idea. You and I need to have a talk.”

  Samuel knew that tone. His mother wasn’t happy. He felt a stab of pity for Rebecca, but quickly smothered it. She would be on her way home shortly.

  He was glad about that, wasn’t he?

  * * *

  Anna Bowman was upset.

  Rebecca followed her to the kitchen and prepared to receive a scolding. She didn’t have long to wait.

  Anna spun to face her with her arms clasped across her chest. “I’m grateful you came to help, Rebecca, but my husband made a mistake in bringing you here. You have overtired Samuel, and I won’t have that.”

  “He is tired, but he can do more than you think. He needs to do more.”

  “I know how to take care of my own son better than anyone. If you had children, you would realize the truth of that.”

  Rebecca kept her face carefully blank, but she cringed inwardly. She would never have children of her own unless she married again, and she couldn’t see herself with anyone other than Walter. She stiffened her spine, determined not to let Anna drive her away. “Your son isn’t a child. He shouldn’t be treated like one.”

  “I know you mean well, but I won’t be dictated to by you. Now, I’ve got to get supper started. The men will be in soon.”

  Before Rebecca could reply, the outside door opened. Isaac Bowman and his three sons filed in. They all nodded toward her and bid her welcome.

  “Smells goot!” Noah said with a broad grin. The youngest of the Bowman siblings, Noah was nineteen and still in his rumspringa—the years when Amish youth were allowed to sample things normally forbidden to baptized Amish members. He wore blue jeans and a red plaid shirt. His curly brown hair was cut short beneath a black ball cap. He whipped it off at his mother’s frown and hung it on the pegs by the door where his father and brothers had placed their identical straw hats.

  Anna glanced with surprise at the stove where Rebecca’s chicken and noodles were simmering. Apparently she had been so intent on returning to Samuel that she hadn’t noticed the enticing smell.

  Isaac looked around in satisfaction. “The house looks wunderbarr. The floor is spotless. The counters are clean and neat. It’s goot to have my industrious wife back. I knew bringing Rebecca to look after Samuel was exactly what you needed. You have always kept our home as neat as a pin until Samuel’s accident.”

  Anna glanced around the room. “Well, I try.”

  Rebecca took pity on the woman. “I wasn’t able to get the biscuits started, Anna. Would you like me to do that, or would you like me to sit with Samuel?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Anna chewed the corner of her lip as she gathered her apron into a wad.

  “Let her sit with Samuel,” Isaac said. “No one makes biscuits as good as yours.”

  Anna looked as if she wanted to argue, but instead she nodded. “Tell Samuel that I will be up to feed him as soon as the family is finished with supper.”

  “Anna, I brought Rebecca here to lighten your load. Let her do her job.”

  Anna folded her arms over her chest. “She made supper and picked up the house. It was a kindness and I thank her, but I can take care of my own family.”

  Rebecca caught Isaac’s eye. “Samuel asked that Timothy help him this evening.”

  Isaac arched one eyebrow but didn’t comment. Rebecca hoped he understood Samuel’s reluctance to be seen as an invalid by others, even by her. She turned to the young men washing up at the sink. “Do you mind, Timothy?”

  “I don’t mind a bit.” Timothy dried his hands on a towel and tossed it over Noah’s head. Noah snatched it off and gave his brother a good-natured grin. “You make a fine nursemaid, Timmy. I’m not surprised he asked for you.”

  “Better to be the nursemaid than the baby.” Timothy laughed at Noah’s quick scowl and then went upstairs.

  Anna smoothed her apron. “May I speak to you privately, Isaac?”

  “Of course.” He followed her into another room.

  Rebecca sighed deeply. She had been too forceful, too pushy, too sure that she knew what was best. She had allowed her experience with her husband’s illness to cloud her judgment. Samuel wasn’t Walter. Anna would see that she was sent home. It was a shame, because Anna really did need help even if she wouldn’t admit it.

  “How is he?” Luke asked. He had a wary look about him. Standing apart from the others near the front door, he looked ready to make a quick escape. She had the feeling he was as much an outsider in the home as she was.

  Rebecca smiled to put him at ease. “Samuel is healing, but these things take time.”

  Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “He’s been like a bull with a sore head. Nothing pleases him.”

  Noah hung his towel on the rod at the end of the counter. “Mamm says we must be patient with him and do everything we can for him.”

  Luke moved to take his turn at the sink. “That’s what we’ve been doing, and his mood hasn’t improved.”

  “Sometimes doing everything for a person does more harm than good.” Rebecca moved to the stove, lifted the lid off the pot and stirred the contents. Fragrant steam rose in a cloud.

  “What do you mean?” Noah asked.

  She decided the noodles needed a few more minutes and replaced the lid. “Just that if you don’t encourage your brother to try harder, he will only grow weaker.”

  Luke rinsed his hands and turned off the water. “Samuel has never been the weak one.”

  “That’s why this is so hard for him.” Rebecca glanced toward the doorway where Anna and Isaac stood. She couldn’t tell what decision had been reached, if any.

  Isaac hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “Let’s get out of the way until supper is ready. Noah, you owe me a chance to beat you at checkers.”

  The men left the kitchen. Anna began mixing the biscuit dough. “Rebecca, will you set the table? The dishes are in the cabinet on the left side of the sink.”

  “Of course.” At least she wasn’t being sent home before supper. She knew that Isaac was on her side, but how much sway did his wife’s wishes hold?

  Supper was a quiet meal. After a silent blessing, the food was passed around with a minimum of fuss. Amish meals were not a time for small talk. Isaac laid out the work they would need to do the following day. Other than a few brief questions from his sons, their attention w
as given to the food. When the meal was over, Isaac took a tray upstairs to Samuel. Timothy offered to do it, but his father brushed aside the offer.

  * * *

  Samuel struggled into a sitting position on the side of his bed when he heard footsteps enter his room. He was feeling more human after Timothy had helped him bathe, and his appetite had been whetted by the wonderful smells from the kitchen. “It’s about time.”

  “If you are impatient for your meal, you should come down to the table.”

  Tensing at the sound of his father’s voice, Samuel quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Father, I thought you were Timothy. He said he was bringing up my supper.”

  “I wanted to talk to you, and I thought this was a good time to do it.”

  “What did you want to talk about?” Samuel heard the sound of the tray being placed on his bedside table and the scrape of the chair legs as his father pulled up a seat beside the bed.

  “Your mother is unhappy that I brought Rebecca here.”

  “I don’t blame her. The woman is touched in the head. She actually poured water on my sheets to get me out of bed.”

  To Samuel’s chagrin, his father began chuckling. “I never would’ve thought of that. Did it work?”

  “That is hardly the point.”

  “Isn’t it? Open your mouth. I have a spoonful of chicken and noodles for you.”

  “Mother said I was to stick with broth.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a meal to me. Open.”

  Samuel did as his father bid. The first bite had his stomach rumbling for more. The noodles were firm, not mushy. The chicken was tender and the chunks of vegetables were done to perfection.

  “She’s a good cook, I think,” his father said, giving him several more bites.

  “Not bad, but I’m still glad she isn’t staying.” Samuel opened his mouth for another spoonful. Although he was embarrassed to be fed by his father, he was hungry enough to accept the help.

  After a few more bites, his father spoke again. “How are you feeling, sohn? Really. Don’t tell me fine. I know that isn’t true.”