The Sacrifice

by Beverly Lewis

  “Is that so?” He smiled more to himself than to his young daughter. Seemed Leah was bound and determined to create another outdoor girl, which was right fine with him. The world could definitely benefit from more than one Leah Ebersol, he decided then and there. Reaching around Lydiann, he pulled her into a bear hug to a stream of giggles.

  Gid was more than willing to help move Ivan and Mary Etta Troyer and their brood of ten children— newly transplanted from Sugarcreek, Ohio—into the farmhouse down the road from the Kauffmans’ spread.

  Glad for a mild and sunny day, he carried heavy boxes into the large farmhouse, as well as the trestle table and kitchen benches. All the while he thought of Leah, wondering how to approach her with his news. After all, they had enjoyed a long-standing friendship nearly their whole lives, one that had even weathered the sad yet necessary end of their engagement. While he and three other young men from the church district got the new family settled, he considered stopping by the Ebersol home to visit with Leah after a bit. Out of courtesy to such a dear friend.

  When he was free to leave, he headed up Georgetown Road in his open buggy, turning a sharp right into Abram’s long drive. He noticed young Abe toddling about in the side yard, doing his best to chase after a red squirrel. The boy pointed a curious finger at the tree branch where the small creature had decided to perch.

  Abram came around the corner and scooped his son up into his arms, standing there with Abe still pointing and jabbering.

  “Hullo!” Abram called to him.

  Getting out of the carriage, Gid waved and hurried across the yard. “Catch any squirrels yet, Abe?” He tousled the towheaded youngster’s thick hair.

  “He’s most interested in things that move,” Abram explained. “Leah has her hands full watching this young’un.”

  “I see that.”

  “Well, let’s go, Abe,” Abram said as he carried him out toward the barn. Abram turned to look over his shoulder. “You here to see—?”

  “Leah,” Gid said quickly, making his way to the back door.

  “Don’t bother to knock,” Abram called back to him. “Just give a holler. She’s inside makin’ supper.”

  He crept in the door furtively, quite aware of his own breathing. He called out her name. “Leah . . . it’s Gid.”

  Turning, she looked at him from where she stood at the counter. She offered that warm and lovely smile of hers, and he wondered if it might disappear once she heard his confession. “Got a minute?” he asked.

  She nodded. “What’s on your mind?”

  He knew full well that Hannah and Lydiann were out on the mule road together, for he’d seen them rolling a big ball on the ground, back and forth, as he’d come up the lane. He must not waste any time before sharing his heart. “I’ve been meaning to talk with ya.”

  She wore a slight look of worry on her face.

  “I think it best you hear directly from me. Not through the grapevine . . .” He was conscious of the heat of his long-sleeved shirt for the first time today, and he tugged on the cuff absentmindedly. “You see, I’ve become quite fond of your sister Hannah,” he started again. “I plan to speak to Abram ’bout the possibility of courting her. If, well . . . if it seems all right with you.”

  Her eyes were suddenly brighter than before. “All right? Oh, Gid, of course, it is. Really ’tis!” Then she surprised him by reaching for his hand. “This is wonderful-gut news, truly.”

  For a moment he thought he might hug her. But he refrained from doing so, squeezing only her hand.

  “Denki, Leah. This means a lot to me.”

  Pulling back, he stood there, gazing at her, his former love. His first and only sweetheart . . . till now.

  What an unexpected surprise that his heart should be reawakened with love for another when he hadn’t thought such a thing possible. He was glad to have taken time to talk with Leah, just as Abram had encouraged him to do. Thoughtful as always, Leah had given him a most precious gift—reassurance that all was well.

  Lizzie’s nose was but a few inches from the damp earth. She’d gone tramping through the woods, needing a chance to clear her head, what with being cooped up too much these days in the Dawdi Haus with her ailing father. Bent nearly double, she laughed at herself, glad she was still as spry as ever. She pulled herself up from the barely visible trail and brushed off her long dress and apron. Goodness me, she thought, cracking a twig underfoot as she rose to stand. How she’d ever gotten her foot tangled in the underbrush, she didn’t know. After all, she knew these vast woods like the back of her hand and wasn’t any too shy about saying so.

  They were, after all, her woods—hers and God’s.

  Smiling, she turned and headed back east toward Abram’s house. Springtime humidity hung in the air, making the moss grow faster on tree trunks around her. Creepers adorned the spruce and maples, leaving a welcome impression in her mind. Breathing deeply, she found herself thinking of her brother-in-law. He had begun to soften toward Mary Ruth, and this made Lizzie sit up and take notice. Ida’s widower was also noticeably less gruff in general. Lizzie didn’t know what to make of it, but she knew she liked working alongside him in the barn and elsewhere a whole lot more than ever before. Deciding right then she would not let up on her talk of the Lord, nearly daily now it seemed, she pushed on and made her way toward the clearing.

  There she spotted Smithy Gid in the distance, climbing into his open buggy. Same courting buggy he’s had all these years, poor fella. Seeing his carriage parked in Abram’s lane set her mind to racing. While she had long suspected Gid of being sweet on Hannah, she wondered why he was showing up here in broad daylight. Making her way down the mule road, she happened to see Leah waving through the kitchen window at him. A dearer boy there never was, she thought, happy for Hannah but a little sad for Leah, who would never fully know Gid’s love. Or any man’s, for that matter.

  Dear Lord, bless Leah today, she prayed. Bless our faithful girl with your tender grace.

  With another summer came opportunities for getting Lydiann and Abe outdoors, and Leah was glad of it. She liked to spread an old blanket out on the back lawn and sit and play with the children, sometimes feeding them small pieces of apple and orange. King, Blackie, and Sassy wandered over to investigate the fruity treats amid squeals of delight from the children, especially from Lydiann, who was nearly as fond of the dogs as she was her baby brother. Now and then Dat would stop what he was doing and make over the tots, paying closest attention to Abe.

  It was late morning and Abe was fussy, ready for a nap. Hannah had just returned from the barn and came running over and plopped down on the blanket. “ ’Tis a right nice day, ain’t?”

  “One of the best times of year,” Leah replied. “Wild roses are awful perty, farmers are makin’ hay, and honeysuckle never smelt sweeter.”

  “And . . . young scholars can say, ‘no more papers, no more books . . . no more teacher’s tetchy looks,’ ” Hannah chanted the familiar verse. “Sure am glad I’m not in school anymore.”

  “Your thoughts must be with Mary Ruth today,” said Leah.

  “S’pose they are.” She skimmed the palm of her hand across the blades of grass, and Sassy came and playfully nipped at Hannah’s fingers. “The house seems so quiet sometimes, is all.”

  “How can that be, with the children growin’ up under our noses?”

  Hannah sighed. “You know what I mean.”

  Leah nodded; she knew, all right.

  They sat there enjoying the warm weather and a hint of a breeze every so often, the scents of summer all around. The big leaves of the linden tree quaked gently outside the window.

  “What’s really on your mind, sister?” Leah said at last.

  Hannah twitched her nose, looking at Lydiann. “How long before our little sister understands certain things?”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  She leaned over and whispered in Leah’s ear. “I need to talk to you . . . in private sometime.”

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nbsp; “Well, why not say what’s on your mind in English ’stead of Dutch? That’ll keep Lydiann in the dark, if that’s what you want.” Leah rose and carried Abe to the back door while Hannah took Lydiann’s hand and led her inside.

  “I’ll put Abe down for his nap,” said Hannah while Leah sent Lydiann upstairs to find her dolly and a cradle.

  When Hannah returned, her face was flushed. “Ach, but this might seem strange to you”—here she guided Leah through the kitchen to the screened-in back porch. “I don’t know how you’ll feel ’bout this. . . .”

  “What is it, Hannah?” She studied her sister’s eyes. Big and brown, they were, and dancing like she’d never seen them.

  “What I’m tryin’ to say is, what would ya think if I told ya I like Smithy Gid? Not as just a friend, I mean.”

  Leah couldn’t help herself. So . . . Gid had already talked to Hannah about the possibility of going for steady. She smiled and clapped her hands. “Well, it’s clearly all over your face. I couldn’t be happier for you—both of you.”

  “You mean it?”

  “I can’t think of a better match for Gid than my own precious sister.”

  Hannah kissed her good-bye. “I best not be gone too long, or Dat will wonder what’s become of me.”

  She turned and hurried away.

  “Jah, go on now. But be back for dinner at straight-up noon,” Leah called after her. She headed to the kitchen. Hannah deserved to have an attentive beau like Smithy Gid, dear soul that she was. No need to think twice on it. And she was the perfect choice for Gid, as well. To think Dat just might get his son-in-law of choice, after all!

  As for Hannah, she’d been through a wringer of sorts, what with Ezra Stoltzfus’s leaving the Amish church behind, getting himself shunned so soon after baptism. The grapevine had it that he’d upped and gone ferhoodled or worse after the death of Elias, as wild as if he’d never knelt his knee in baptism. So Hannah was better off, his dropping her like a hot potato and all, making it possible for Gid to have his chance.

  Leah found Lydiann talking Dutch to her little faceless doll. She was saying it might not be so long and they’d all be going fishing with Dat and “Smitty Gid” over at Blackbird Pond . . . and wouldn’t that be such fun?

  Lydiann would enjoy the benefits of growing up with a brother; something Leah had always felt she’d missed. She had been the boy of the family, so to speak, but those days were gone for good. She was truly the woman of the house, not only Mamma to Lydiann and Abe, but the matriarch in charge of seeing that the household ran smoothly, including the Dawdi Haus. She no longer felt she’d missed out on certain joy by not marrying, as her friend Adah and most every other girl her age in the church community had. Goodness, Naomi Bontrager was already expecting her second baby.

  In all of this, Leah did not feel she was fooling herself; after all, being a maidel was evidently her lot in life, and her role in helping raise Abe and Lydiann was a good one. She had dealt with her resentment toward Sadie and moved forward with life, ever so glad to be a mother to her youngest siblings. Truly it was God who had seen fit to bless her with these two adorable children.

  After the noon meal, Abram was right pleased to see Leah outdoors with Abe and Lydiann in tow. He stopped to pump some well water, quenching his thirst while he fanned himself with his beat-up straw hat. He sure could use a new one. His father-in-law hadn’t minced words about it, complaining to high heavens about how “awful ratty that old hat looks.” John seemed to pick at near everything Abram did or didn’t do these days. He’d become a rather cantankerous sort, living alone without his wife of many decades and losing his daughter Ida, all in the space of a few years.

  Still, Abram could relate all too keenly to John’s hopelessness. In other ways, though, John had mellowed some recently, especially when it came time for Mary Ruth’s visits.

  With that in mind, he thought he ought to pay John a visit himself before too long.

  Chatter from Abe brought his attention back to the present. “Thirsty?” he asked Leah.

  Lydiann spoke up before Leah could, asking for a nice cold drink herself. Leah looked right pleased, watching Lydiann hold the dipper and sipper, the excess water dripping down her plump cheeks. Of course, now Abe was grousing for equal treatment.

  Once the little ones were satisfied, they wandered about the lawn barefooted and laughing, soaking up the afternoon sunshine. His heart swelled with pride, glad for this moment to pause and reflect on the good thing his Leah had done . . . was doing. “Denki, Leah . . . for bein’ such a gut mamma to the children.” He wished he’d said this a long time ago.

  “Dat . . . that’s all right.” Leah gave him a warm smile. “I love seein’ them grow up like this.”

  “You’ve given up everything for my little ones.” They both knew he was talking about Smithy Gid in particular.

  “I’m happy with my life. Honestly.” She paused, turning to check where Abe and Lydiann had disappeared to. Then she continued, “I prob’ly shouldn’t say this, but you surely know Gid’s sweet on Hannah.” She said it nearly in a whisper.

  “Oh, jah.” He was careful not to react too cheerfully, wanting to be sensitive to any open wounds remaining from Leah and Gid’s breakup. He looked her over but good. “Well, now . . . how do you feel ’bout it?”

  She smiled again. “It’s ’bout time you got the son-in-law you’ve been waitin’ for!”

  He studied her mighty hard at this instant, wondering . . . hoping . . . then, beyond all doubt, he knew she was quite sincere. Eagerly so, it seemed by the look of delight on her pretty face.

  He called to Abe, who came running and jumped high into his arms. “Come along,” he said, offering a hand to help up Leah. “Let’s ride over to Georgetown and have us all some ice cream.”

  This brought an even bigger smile to Leah’s face. To the words ice cream, Lydiann and Abe clapped with delight, which made Abram feel right pleased with himself. The Good Lord was surely shining down His blessings. In spite of myself, thought Abram.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Leah was anxious to attend the July Sisters Day at Adah’s house, two miles away. Thanks to Aunt Lizzie volunteering to baby-sit Lydiann and Abe, Leah was freed up to go with Hannah. Lizzie had been insisting all week long that it was high time for Leah to be around other adults. “You’re in the house too much,” she kept saying.

  Leah had laughed, recognizing what her aunt said was true and looking forward to the outing. The women folk did share a gift of close friendship, even though she’d never much cared for their work frolics growing up.

  “Friendships are the core of our lives, ain’t so?” she said, enjoying the carriage ride.

  Hannah nodded. “And sisters are always the best of friends.”

  “I should say.” Leah wondered if Hannah was maudlin about her twin again, although Mary Ruth had been coming to see them three or four times a week lately. Aunt Lizzie, Dawdi John, and even Dat enjoyed seeing her, as well, and yearned for the delicious dishes Mary Ruth sometimes brought to share with the family, though she was reluctant to stay and eat, out of respect for Dat.

  “We’re mirrors to the past, in a way,” Hannah said softly. “We look into each other’s faces and remember what we know. . . .”

  “Well, now, you’re sounding like a dreamer today.”

  Hannah laughed. “Guess maybe Mary Ruth’s rubbin’ off on me some.”

  “But what you say is true. There is such deep understanding between sisters.”

  Hannah nodded and fell silent. Leah was thankful for this time alone, just the two of them. Scarcely did they ever have the opportunity to go out riding or to a work frolic like this. The sky seemed a prettier blue today and little robin red breast sang stronger because Hannah was here to share the day.

  Once they arrived at Adah’s house, Leah was happy to see Adah’s younger sister, Dorcas, as well as Adah’s five sisters-in-law, Ebersol cousins all. The kitchen was full up with sisters of every shape a
nd size, peeling tomatoes at the sink, boiling water in large pots, preparing to stew the red fruit, as well as make soup and spaghetti sauce—an all-day affair. Several were expecting babies, including Adah herself. Leah found this sight, here in Adah’s cozy kitchen, not only joyful on behalf of her dear friend, but she was excited for Adah to join yet again the maternal realm. “We’re sharing the joys of motherhood after all, you and I,” she whispered to her.

  Adah flashed a quick sad look, but Leah squeezed her hand to reassure her all was well. Truly, it was.

  Hannah helped mash a mountain of cooked tomatoes. After a time the mushy red color and strong odor made her feel queasy, and she wondered how she’d ever manage attending such canning frolics as Smithy Gid’s wife someday. His mother’s side of the family was tomato crazy, putting up anything and everything with the fruit in it. Far as she could tell, though, that was the one and only drawback to her marrying into the Peachey family one fine day.

  She tried holding her breath as she crushed the nasty red fruits, but that didn’t work, either, because when it came time for her to breathe again, she had to fill her lungs even more deeply with the fragrant aroma.

  “Is Leah doin’ okay, really?” Adah asked her, unaware Hannah was the one struggling at the moment, though not emotionally.

  “She seems fine to me,” she replied, glad to raise her head and her nose out of the immediate vicinity of the tomatoes. “Leah’s the sweetest mother to Lydiann and Abe,” she offered. “You should see her with them.”

  “I’ve seen her all right; I just can never tell for sure if Leah’s all right inside,” Adah persisted.

  “Jah, I believe she is.” Hannah wanted to put Adah’s fears to rest. After all, she and Adah were soon to be sisters by marriage. She’d told no one just yet, but, short time that it had been since he’d declared his feelings for her, darling Gid had not only begun to court her but had already proposed marriage. He wasn’t wasting any time, which was right fine with her, being she’d known him her entire life and Dat, Dawdi John, and Aunt Lizzie were all for it. “Long as it won’t hurt Leah further,” Lizzie had been quick to say.