by Emma Miller
What he needed was a more sensible wife, one more suited to a staid and practical preacher. “Danke for the water,” he managed. “I can’t stand here lazing when there’s half a field to do.”
A pink flush colored her fair complexion. “I’ll leave you to your work then, Preacher Caleb.” Back straight, kapp strings trailing down her neck, she moved away, leaving him oddly disconcerted.
Caleb began to swing the corn knife again, slashing with hard, quick blows that left a sharp line of stalk stubble behind him. Ya, he decided, he had put this off far too long. It was time a new wife came to fill his loneliness and tend his motherless daughter. Too long he’d clung to his grief for Dinah. She was safe in God’s hands, free from all earthly pain and care, and it was his duty to pick up the reins of his life and carry on.
* * *
“What was that... You and Caleb?” Miriam whispered.
Rebecca and Miriam had returned to Aunt Martha’s kitchen to help the other women set out the midday meal. Rebecca was slicing meatloaf, and Miriam had stepped close to her, a platter of warm kartoffel kloesse, potato croquettes, in her hand.
Rebecca’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, me and Caleb?”
Miriam elbowed her playfully in the side. “Come on, it’s me. I know you too well. Don’t try to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I saw the two of you together in the field. You like him, don’t you?”
Rebecca put down the knife, glanced around to be sure no one was watching them and pulled her sister into the pantry. “Do you want everyone to hear you? I took him water like I did every other man.”
Miriam shook her head and chuckled as she set the platter on the counter in the pantry. “Ne, little sister. Not like every other man. If my Charley looked at you like Caleb did... Well, let’s say he’d better not if he knows what’s good for him.”
The pantry was shadowy, the only light coming from a narrow window. High shelves filled with jars of canned fruit and vegetables lined the walls, and a wooden bin held cabbages, potatoes, onions and carrots. Aunt Martha was not known for her housekeeping skills, but this one room was always clean...if you didn’t notice the cobwebs overhead or the fingerprints on the windowpanes.
“There’s nothing between us.”
“So why does he look like a lovesick calf and why are your cheeks as red as pickled beets every time his name is mentioned?” Miriam asked. She hesitated. “You know, he’s perfectly acceptable, if you do like him. I could have Charley talk to him. He could—”
“What would make you say such a thing?” Rebecca grabbed her sister’s hand. “Caleb hasn’t said anything that would make me believe... At least, I don’t think...” She let go of Miriam’s hand and let her words trail off as she remembered the strange sensations she’d felt when she and Caleb had exchanged words in the cornfield.
Excitement made her giddy. Maybe it hadn’t been her imagination. If Miriam had noticed the way Caleb looked at her...then maybe it wasn’t just her own foolish fancy. Maybe he did like her.
Miriam planted a hand on her hip. “Do you like him or not?”
“I don’t know,” she blurted, looking up at her. “I think... Maybe I do...but...”
“He wouldn’t be my choice for you,” Miriam remarked. “He’s too serious, too stuffy.”
“Caleb isn’t stuffy. He is serious at times, but he has a lighthearted side, too. You should see how he plays and laughs with Amelia. And he’s had so many sorrows in his life. Can you blame him if he’s sad sometimes?”
“The scars on his face? His hand? They don’t bother you?”
Rebecca shook her head, thinking. “It’s odd to hear myself even say it, but the truth is...I don’t notice them. He has such nice eyes, and—”
“You don’t notice them,” Miriam groaned. “One half of his face and you don’t see it.” Then she smiled. “You’ve got it bad. I can have Charley talk to him and see what’s what.”
A little thrill passed through Rebecca. “Charley would do that for me?”
“Of course he would.”
“Even if you don’t think he would be a good choice for me?”
Miriam smiled kindly. “Love is love, little sister. There were some who would have chosen John over Charley for me....”
“But Charley was the right husband for you,” Rebecca finished.
“He was. So say the word and I’ll have Charley speak with Caleb. Of course, if he’s interested in getting to know you to see if you might be a suitable match, different arrangements will have to be made with your job. It wouldn’t be seemly for you to be working at the preacher’s house and courting him at the same time.”
Courting Caleb? Just the sound of the words made Rebecca nervous...and a little giddy. Was that what she wanted? Was that the direction God was leading her? She looked at her sister. “Let me pray about it for a day or two. It’s too soon—”
“You know Mam would like it if you married close to home, and we all love little Amelia.” Miriam chuckled softly. “Of all my sisters, you’re the last one I’d expect to be a preacher’s wife.”
“I said I’d pray on it,” Rebecca answered. “I’m not going to rush into anything. And don’t you dare tell Anna or Johanna or—”
“I know, I know.” Miriam grinned. “I’ll keep your secret, but don’t wait too long. A lot of mothers would consider Caleb Wittner a good catch for their daughters. You wait too long to make up your mind and someone could snatch him right out from under you.”
* * *
When the dinner bell rang, Caleb walked back to the Coblentz house with the other men. As he approached, he couldn’t help noticing that one of the back porch posts was leaning and the rails, on their last legs, were sagging. He climbed the rickety steps, thinking that while Reuben was laid up with his injury, it wouldn’t hurt to have some of the neighbors do some work on his house. It pained him to think that a family in his church was living like this when others were clearly doing so much better financially.
Someone had set up a tub of water, a bar of soap and towels on the porch. Charley and Eli were there cleaning up. Charley was laughing at some nonsense and shaking his wet hands, splattering a protesting Eli with soapy drops of water. As they stepped aside, still teasing each other, Caleb pushed up his sleeves and washed his hands thoroughly. When he reached for a towel, Martha’s daughter, Dorcas, handed him a clean one.
“It’s good of you to come and help us. Get in our corn,” Dorcas said. She was a tall, spare woman, plain in features, but with good skin. Unmarried, he remembered, and probably nearing thirty. He’d not exchanged more than a few words with her since her father’s accident, and not many since he’d come to Delaware.
“I’m glad to help,” he answered.
She covered her mouth with her hand and offered what he thought might be a smile. Had he ever seen her smile? No matter, she was obviously a devout and modest young woman, and it would do no harm to consider her in his search for a prospective bride.
Dorcas’s mother, Martha, appeared at his side and tugged at his sleeve. He turned toward her. “Ya?”
“A word, if you would, Preacher Caleb.” She smiled, showing sparkling white, obviously artificial uppers.
Caleb glanced into the kitchen where the other men were taking seats at the long table. “Maybe after the meal? I think Samuel is about to—”
“Of course,” Martha agreed. “After you’ve eaten. Actually, Grace Hartman, my niece... She’s Mennonite. My brother’s daughter. Not raised among us. Offered a ride to the hospital. If you’d like to join Dorcas and me to visit Reuben. He’s not to come home until tomorrow now. Nothing to worry about. Just a slight fever. Such a terrible accident, a man of his years. So glad you were there to come to his aid in his time of—”
“The grace,” Caleb reminded her. “The others are waiting.
”
“After the meal,” Martha repeated, patting his arm. “You are more than welcome to—”
“It’s kind of you to ask,” Caleb replied, glancing toward the kitchen door. “But we need to finish that field today. The weather forecast calls for rain tomorrow night, and—”
“Tomorrow being the Sabbath, there will be no work,” Martha finished for him. “Ya, you are right to remind me. My Reuben is such a devout member of the church, and we’ve tried to raise our Dorcas to be equally obedient to the rules of our community.” Creases crinkled in the corners of her eyes as she beamed at him. “She’s quite accomplished, our Dorcas. You’ve noticed her, I’m sure. As you would, a single man, a widower with a young daughter in need of a mother.”
Caleb nodded. He could feel the impatient gazes of hungry men on him.
“No need to hold you back from your meal,” Martha said. “You’ve worked so long and hard in the field today. You’ve earned your rest and a full stomach. But I wondered, if we can’t talk today, perhaps tomorrow evening. Supper. Bring your daughter, naturally. Reuben will be home. We would be honored to have you. Six o’clock?”
“Ya,” Caleb agreed. “Six.” He saw his opportunity and nearly bolted for the door. “Tomorrow.” Three long strides and he was in the kitchen.
“About time,” Charley grumbled. “We’re starving.”
Caleb slid into the only empty chair and closed his eyes.
“Let us give thanks,” Samuel intoned.
When their silent prayers ended and they opened their eyes, the serious eating began. Biscuits, potato dishes and creamed celery were passed around. Women slid more bowls of vegetables and meats onto the patched white tablecloth.
Dorcas placed a bowl of gravy down with a thump directly in front of Caleb’s plate. “For the meatloaf,” she said. “My mother made it.” Again, she smiled behind her hand.
He nodded, wondering exactly what he’d committed to by agreeing to come to supper. He had been able to tell by the look in Martha’s eyes that she had more on her mind than a simple thank-you supper. But maybe this was God’s plan for him. Maybe finding a new wife wouldn’t be that difficult. He didn’t know anything about Dorcas, but that was what courtship was all about.
“Lord, help me,” he murmured silently. But as he glanced up, he saw Rebecca leaning over the table and pouring water into Eli’s glass tumbler. And just for a second, he absently stroked the scar on his cheek and wished...
* * *
“Don’t go far,” Rebecca called to Amelia. “I just need to get an armload of kindling for the wood box.”
The little girl and Fritzy were racing back and forth between the woodshed and the house. Amelia was throwing a leather ball Charley had sewn for her out of old scraps into the air. The dog would jump up and catch it in his mouth, and then the child would chase him. The big poodle ran in circles around her as she shrieked with laughter and tried to catch him to get the ball back. Only when Amelia stopped, breathless, would Fritzy drop the toy at her feet. Then the game would begin all over again.
With a final glance over her shoulder to see that dog and girl were where they were supposed to be, Rebecca entered the shed and began gathering small pieces of wood for the stove. She had almost all she could carry, then stooped to pick up one last piece. As she reached for it, she heard the door hinges squeak behind her.
She looked back and saw the tall silhouette of a man in the doorway. Startled by Caleb’s sudden appearance, she stepped sideways onto a log and lost her balance. She quickly righted herself, but in the process lost control of the kindling, spilling half of it back onto the floor.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Caleb stepped forward to steady her. “I’m sorry.”
“Ne, it’s nothing.” She could feel the blood rising in her face. “I just...” Clumsily, she began to gather up the wood. “You just surprised me.”
“Let me,” he insisted, taking the wood from her arms. “The fault is mine. I thought I left the wood box full.”
“I didn’t realize it was so late.” Rebecca kept her face turned away as she picked up some bigger pieces of wood. Caleb must think she was flighty, to be so startled by his arrival in his own woodshed. “Supper is on the back of the stove,” she said.
Caleb carried his armload outside and she followed, carrying the additional logs she’d picked up. “I may be a little early,” he said. “I finished the trim work for that fireplace surround I was telling you about, the fancy one with the columns. They want me to come to Lewes and mount it on-site. They’re even going to pay for my driver.”
“That’s good,” Rebecca said. The town in Sussex County had an area where old houses were being moved in and restored. A contractor had contacted Caleb about doing specialty pieces for some of his projects. It was different than the way he usually worked, but Caleb seemed pleased. He said the pay was twice what he normally made. Rebecca was happy that the English people realized what a craftsman Caleb was. Secretly, she was sure that, preacher or not, he took pride in his woodwork.
“I wanted to tell you that I’ll be going out for supper on Wednesday. You won’t have to make anything for us that night,” Caleb said.
“Oh?”
“Ya, to Reuben and Martha’s.”
Again? Rebecca tried not to let the surprise she felt show. “Oh.” Once was natural, after all that Caleb had done for her aunt and uncle, but he’d already had dinner with them on Sunday. Twice in one week? An uneasy thought rose in Rebecca’s mind. “You and Aunt Martha and Uncle Reuben and...and Dorcas.” She heard Fritzy barking and Amelia’s squeal of laughter. The game was still going on. But the two seemed a long way off. Supper twice in one week usually meant...
“Caleb, are you courting my cousin?” she blurted out, louder than she intended.
He stopped short, turned and fixed her with that intense, dark stare. He suddenly looked as uncomfortable as she felt. “We’re not courting, Dorcas and I. At least, not yet.”
Rebecca was stunned. She gripped the wood, her fingers numb. “Not yet?” she repeated.
Only Saturday she had had the conversation with Miriam about the possibility of having Charley speak to Caleb about her. When Rebecca had said she wanted to pray about it first, Miriam had warned her not to wait too long, or someone else might snatch him up. But Dorcas?
Rebecca realized how uncharitable such a thought was. Why not Dorcas? She was the single daughter of a preacher. It was perfectly logical that she and Caleb would have much in common, wasn’t it?
“We’re trying to see if we’re compatible,” Caleb explained. “To find out if we want to walk out with each other.” His eyes narrowed. “Why? Is there something wrong with Dorcas?”
“Ne, ne,” she said quickly. She looked down at the frozen ground, feeling a sense of loss and not entirely sure why. She had prayed about Caleb, but she’d gotten no answer. Had Charley been standing here at this moment, ready to speak with Caleb about her, she wasn’t sure she would have agreed to it. “She’s a good girl, Dorcas. Very...”
Caleb cocked his head slightly. “Very what?”
Frantically, Rebecca searched her mind for something positive and truthful to say in her cousin’s defense. “She’s devout. And she’s a dutiful daughter. Thoughtful and obedient to her parents.”
“Admirable in anyone.”
“Ya,” Rebecca continued in a rush. “A hard worker, not lazy. And she makes good chowchow. The best. Everyone says so. She sells a lot of it to the Englishers at their stand at Spence’s.”
He chuckled. “A handy skill to have, I suppose. A good thing I have always been fond of chowchow.”
Rebecca quickened her step, hurrying past him to the back porch and into the house. She dumped her load into the wood box beside the stove. Caleb came into the kitchen with Amelia and Fritzy on his heels. “Do you
want me to stay and keep Amelia on Wednesday?” she asked him. “Or take her to Mam’s?”
“I considered taking her. It’s important to me that Amelia be comfortable with any young woman I care to...to consider as a wife.”
“Naturally,” Rebecca dusted her hands off on her skirts. She was trying not to be upset. What right did she have to be? If she’d been interested in Caleb, she should have spoken up sooner.
“But maybe I should wait. Courting is a big step.” He dumped his own load into the box. “It isn’t one I would take lightly. But I think it is time. Amelia should have a mother.” He paused, and then his gaze met hers again. “And maybe it’s time I stopped mourning Dinah and took a new wife.”
Rebecca forced herself to smile and nod. “It is only right,” she agreed. “A preacher should...” She took a breath. “Amelia does need a mother. Every child does.” Her voice softened and she looked away. “You’ll do what is right for her, Caleb. You always do.”
Chapter Ten
The following Saturday, Rebecca, Ruth and Miriam went to Fifer’s Orchard in the nearby town of Wyoming to get apples. They were picking from the seconds bins by the side of the building and chatted while they worked. It was the last chance they’d have to spend with Miriam for a while as she and Charley were headed to Brazil to spend time with Leah and Daniel that week, and would be gone almost a month.
Mam’s orchard hadn’t produced many sound apples this year, and despite the quarts and quarts of applesauce they’d put up, Mam wanted more fruit for apple pies and cakes and apple butter. They would purchase baskets of the best apples to store in the cellar for winter, but the slightly bruised or odd-shaped seconds would be fine for cooking.
“So I heard Caleb’s courting Dorcas.” Miriam propped her hands on her hips. “Our cousin, Dorcas? How did that happen?”