by Sarah Price
Verna had decided to wait outside for Myrna to return home, and since the light was still good enough for her to catch up on her knitting, she worked on a blanket for the charity.
It was close to six thirty by the time she heard the sound of the bicycle approaching the end of their driveway. Verna set down her knitting needles and peered toward the mailbox, knowing it had to be her daughter.
When she saw the familiar pale blue bicycle turn and approach the house, she smiled.
“You must be starved, Myrna!” Verna called out as soon as her daughter was within earshot. “I’ve kept a plate warm for you.”
She watched as Myrna set the bicycle against the edge of the porch, then slowly trudged up the walkway toward the house. “Danke, Maem,” she mumbled as she climbed the three steps to the house. “I’m exhausted, but I wouldn’t say no to some warm supper, that’s for sure and certain.”
Verna stood up, then held open the door. “Go sit down and I’ll fetch it for you.”
Inside, while Myrna collapsed into one of the ladder-back chairs at the table, Verna hurried over to the oven. She had made fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans for supper with a side of chow chow and applesauce. The plate had been kept warm while the two bowls of cold food sat wrapped in the refrigerator.
“Now, you be careful with this plate, Myrna, you hear? It’s going to be hot to the touch.” She set the plate down in front of her daughter.
Myrna rested her head against one hand and poked at the food with her fork. “I’m so hungry, but I’m so tired,” she complained. “I don’t even know if I can stay awake long enough to eat this.”
“My word!” Verna slid into the chair next to her. “Mayhaps this job is just too much for you.”
“Nee!” The firmness of Myrna’s voice and her quick response surprised Verna. “That’s not it at all, Maem.”
“Oh?” Now Verna’s curiosity was piqued. She thought back to Wilma’s words the previous week and wondered if her friend’s comments, so irritating to Verna then, might have a ring of truth to them after all. “Then what is it?”
“It’s . . . it’s just an adjustment, that’s all.” She dug into the mashed potatoes and lifted the fork to her lips, and her face lit up as she savored the taste. Closing her eyes for a moment, she groaned. “Your potatoes are always so light and fluffy, Maem. Mayhaps you would show me how you make them so. The boys sure would enjoy them,” she said.
“Sounds like you’re developing a soft spot for them, then,” Verna said, feeling hopeful.
“Ja, I guess they’re right gut boys,” she answered while cutting into a piece of chicken. “But it sure is nice to be waited on,” she said before she took a bite.
Verna patted her daughter’s arm. “Seems to me that you’re just bone weary. I can assure you that those potatoes are no better or worse than any others I’ve made in the past.”
“I am bone weary,” Myrna admitted. She stared at her mother, a look of wonder on her face. “It’s hard work tending to kinner and a haus. I don’t know how you get everything done!”
Verna couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I couldn’t argue with you there. But women have done it for thousands of years.”
“But how do you do it all?”
Taking a deep breath, Verna exhaled slowly. “You do get into a routine after a while, Myrna.”
“Well, I would hope so!” Myrna speared some green beans with her fork. “But I can’t see how, not with that baby always wanting to be held and the boys underfoot. I was sure glad when they went to schule this morning, but the time flew by! They were home before I knew it.”
“If anyone can do it, I know it’s you. But it will take time, Myrna, to get into a routine. This is only your second day, after all. And you’re in someone else’s haus. It’s bound to be different and takes some getting used to. Plus, they probably have their own way of doing things.” She paused, watching as her daughter devoured more mashed potatoes. “How is Ezekiel, anyway?”
Immediately, Myrna perked up. “Zeke?”
Something about the way Myrna shortened his name made Verna catch her breath.
“Why, he seems kind enough. He’s even fine with me reorganizing everything—”
“Oh help!” Verna tossed her hands in the air. “What can of worms has he opened there!”
Myrna ignored her mother’s playful comment. “—and seems appreciative of what I’m doing. Why, he even thanked me—twice!—for cooking his supper!” This time, it was Myrna who laughed. “It’s as if no one’s cooked for the man since his fraa died.”
Verna frowned. Surely the members of the community had brought over food for the family. The women of the church always stepped up to help when someone passed away, especially when those left behind were a man and his young children. “Well, I’m sure that’s not true.”
Myrna shrugged. “Just telling you how it seems.”
“And the kinner?” Verna prodded. “How are they taking to you?”
“Fine, I suppose, especially now that they understand my rules.” Her eyes flickered toward her mother’s. “God gave them two hands, I told them. They can carry over their plates after eating and tidy their rooms, even if they are boys.” She took another bite of the chicken. “They called it women’s work.” She gave a single laugh. “Can you imagine such impudence?”
No, Verna thought, she couldn’t imagine. Nor could she imagine the firestorm that comment had evoked in Myrna. Surely her daughter had given the boys an earful after hearing them speak those two words. It was a wonder that Myrna was still employed. “Seems to me that you’re doing just fine with the little ones,” Verna said carefully, not wanting Myrna to be put off.
But, to her mother’s surprise, Myrna didn’t react defensively. Instead, she agreed with her mother. “You know, Maem, I am. It’s hard work, but I like it. I mean, as you said, it’s only been two days, but Zeke doesn’t bother me or tell me what to do. He approved my reorganizing the kitchen—land’s sake, it was a mess!—and he seemed pleased that I made little Katie some toys to play with.”
“Well, those are all good things, don’t you think?”
“Exactly. They are good things. I’d sure not like it if he made me follow a bunch of silly rules that make no sense like at the tea store or grocery market. Instead, he seems right thankful.” She glanced up at her mother, a thoughtful expression on her face. “No one’s ever made me feel appreciated before.”
Verna didn’t doubt her daughter’s words.
Suddenly, Myrna sobered, the glow fading from her eyes. “But something does bother me, Maem.”
“Oh?” Verna tilted her head. “What’s that?”
“If he’s so happy with the changes I’ve made, why didn’t he make them before?” Myrna made a face. “I mean, he’s not a lazy man. He’s hardworking. And he seems to care a lot for his kinner. But I’ve never heard of a family not having toys for their boppli!”
That was strange indeed. Verna thought back to what she’d heard about Ezekiel Riehl and his sick wife. She didn’t want to spread more gossip, so she hadn’t shared it with Myrna. But she did wonder if there was any truth to the tale. Perhaps Ezekiel was from one of those ultraconservative Old Order Amish families who followed Scripture in the strictest form.
“Well, you’re just getting to know him, Myrna. Mayhaps you’ll understand more as time goes on. Until then, it’s not up to us to judge him or even question him.” She placed her hand over her daughter’s. “We can’t even imagine what he’s been through, losing his fraa with those young ones. It’s a terrible thing.”
Myrna seemed to mull over her mother’s words before she sighed. “I reckon you’re right. He’s been through an awful lot. No sense in questioning things that can’t be answered just yet.”
* * *
In the morning, Verna shuffled out of her bedroom door and into the kitchen, surprised to smell coffee already brewing. The sun hadn’t risen yet and a kerosene lantern glowed from the kitchen sidebo
ard. Normally she was the only person awake at this hour.
“What on earth?”
The answer came in the form of Myrna walking out of the downstairs bathroom, her red hair neatly combed back and her prayer kapp already placed firmly on her head. “I didn’t wake you, did I, Maem?”
Startled, Verna tried to appear nonchalant, but she couldn’t remember the last time her daughter had risen this early, and without a reminder! “Nee, not at all. But I’m surprised to see you up so early.”
Myrna shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, I suppose.”
Curious, Verna watched as Myrna peeked at her reflection in the small oval mirror that hung on the wall by the bathroom door. Her fingers reached up and straightened the long white strings of her prayer kapp.
“And you made coffee?”
Myrna nodded. “Ja, I did.”
“Shall I fetch you a cup, then?”
Without waiting for an answer, Verna moved over to the coffeepot and started pouring two mugs of coffee. The sound of the liquid hitting the bottom of the mug and the steam that rose, brushing against her cheeks, warmed her.
When the mugs were full, she carried one over to her daughter. “So, you couldn’t sleep?”
With a gentle lift of her shoulders, Myrna shrugged as she took the mug. “My mind was racing, that’s all.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “Ja, I was thinking of all the things I need to do today. There’s an awful lot of dirty laundry piled up. I think I’ll follow your schedule, Maem. Clothing on Mondays and Fridays. Linens on Wednesdays. Works well enough for you.” She sipped at her coffee. “As Mammi Bess always said, don’t fix it if it ain’t broke.”
Verna couldn’t keep herself from beaming at the compliment.
“And I think I’ll inventory the pantry and see what canned goods are left. Mayhaps I’ll even see if I can borrow the buggy and go to the grocery store.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit soon, Myrna?” She kept her tone soft and uncritical. “You don’t know the man so well to borrow his horse yet. Besides, do you think it’d be wise taking two young kinner to town? They’d be quite a handful.”
Myrna froze. “Ach! I didn’t think of that.” The excitement faded from her face. “Well, at least I could make a list for Zeke, I reckon.”
Sipping at her coffee, Verna couldn’t help but notice again the way her daughter called him Zeke and not by his formal name. She also contemplated her daughter’s reaction, knowing her only too well. She was all about approaching a project head-on. This time, however, Verna suspected that Myrna needed to take a slower approach. Even God took six days to create the world and all its creatures.
“Might I make a suggestion, Myrna?”
A single nod was her response.
“Mayhaps you might take a more . . .” She paused, searching for the right words so as not to offend her daughter. “. . . practical strategy.”
Myrna sat silent, an expression of curiosity on her face as she waited for her mother to continue.
“Focus on one thing a day. Just one. If you can do that—and do it well—you’ve done a lot. You’ll be working there for some time.” We hope, she thought to herself. “You’re not on any deadline for organizing that haus. In fact, that’s not even your primary job. It’s to care for the kinner, first and foremost. So, remember this: Small steps will contribute to the larger picture and be less wearisome in the long run.”
Myrna groaned, leaning her head against her hand. “Small steps? Oh, Maem! You know that’s hard for me, especially when there is so much to contend with.”
“You’ll have to try,” Verna said encouragingly.
“But there’s just so many things that need to be addressed.” She sighed. “How on earth do you decide what to do now and what to leave for later?”
“One thing,” Verna repeated, holding up her finger. “With small children, sometimes you can’t even do that.”
At this suggestion, Myrna snorted. “We’ll see about that!”
Verna lifted the coffee mug to her lips and suppressed a chuckle. “We’ll see about that, indeed,” she said, her eyes staring over the rim of the mug to peer at her daughter.
Chapter Twelve
After sending the two boys off to school the following Monday morning, Myrna could barely wait to start with the wash. She needed little Katie to take a nap so she could gather all the clothes and begin sorting. Henry might be too young for school, but Myrna had every intention of showing him how to help her with the chores.
The previous evening, she’d lain awake and stared at the ceiling in her bedroom. She’d replayed the last few days in her head, trying to think of ways she could be more efficient in managing the Riehls’ household.
And then it struck her.
Just as she had mentioned to her mother the other morning, Myrna knew exactly what she had to do—she just didn’t know how to do it. She needed to create a schedule and stick to it. No matter what happened. If she stuck to a routine, she’d stay ahead of the chores and, hopefully, wouldn’t be so exhausted at the end of the day.
The idea excited her—organization was definitely her thing!—and she began mentally mapping out how each week would go. Wash clothing on Mondays and Fridays, clean the kitchen and bedrooms on Tuesdays and Fridays, wash linens and towels on Wednesday, and focus on special projects each Thursday. On Saturdays, she’d tidy up and prepare a meal for Sunday, her only day off.
She’d awoken in the morning feeling renewed and refreshed, eager to get started with her plan.
But as soon as she and the two younger children returned to the farm after dropping David and Daniel at school, Henry sat on the floor, tugging at his ear and crying.
“What’s this?” She stood before him, her hands on her hips. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Eight thirty. She needed to get the clothing washed and on the line before ten o’clock, otherwise it wouldn’t dry before the rain rolled in later that afternoon.
“My ear.”
She knelt and gently pushed his hands away from the side of his head. “Let me have a peek, Henry.” Despite not really knowing what she was looking for, Myrna peered into his ear. It was a little red, but she figured it was probably from him rubbing at it.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re just fine.”
“It hurts.”
“Now, now.” She took him into her arms and held him for a few minutes, rocking him back and forth, her eyes flickering to the clock nervously. As the long hand moved, she felt a tightening in her chest. Finally, she leaned back and pushed his hair away from his forehead. “Listen, Henry. We’ve a lot of work to do today. If you help me a spell, then we can make sugar cookies again. Won’t your bruders be excited if they come home from schule to find sugar cookies again?”
He sniffled and nodded.
“That’s a right gut buwe!”
She stood him up before she got to her feet and brushed off the front of her black apron.
“Let’s start upstairs, ja? While your schwester sleeps, I’ll gather your bruders’ clothing, and you can gather the hand towels in the bathroom for me.” That’s simple enough for him, she thought. “You can do that?”
He sniffled again, his chest catching twice. But he nodded and then reached his hand up to take hers.
The gesture startled Myrna. Feeling his small, warm palm in hers, she felt a moment of tenderness for the small boy.
“Come along, then,” she said in a soft voice. “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can bake those cookies!”
Upstairs, Myrna hurried into the bedroom that the three boys shared. One double bed and one twin bed were pushed against the walls. The plastic hamper in the corner was empty, for their dirty clothing was scattered on the floor. It took her a few minutes to gather everything, since several pairs of socks had been kicked under the bed.
Plopping everything into the hamper, she carried it to the hallway, but, before she went downstairs, she paused.
The previous week, she�
��d spent most of her time on the first floor. When Henry was busy and little Katie napping, Myrna had focused on cleaning and organizing the kitchen until the floors practically shone and everything found its proper place. She hadn’t really explored the second floor.
Now, however, the two other doors in the hallway beckoned to her.
Setting down the hamper, Myrna let her curiosity get the best of her. She walked to the first door and opened it. The room was empty, but the perfect size for a large bed or two smaller ones. A green shade, half-drawn, filtered the light. She shut the door and turned to the other door across the hallway.
To her surprise, this room was not empty.
Two boxes sat against the wall and four dresses hung from a peg. And there was a large wooden chest, beautifully carved on the top. Myrna swallowed, realizing that it was probably Katie Ruth’s hope chest.
Quietly, Myrna backed out of the room.
Two unused rooms that Ezekiel and Katie Ruth had probably thought would be filled with children one day. Dreams that had been lost when Katie Ruth passed not even a year ago. The thought troubled Myrna.
But she didn’t have time to wallow in sadness for what the Riehl family had lost, because she was interrupted by the sound of a loud crash.
“Oh help!”
She grabbed the hamper before hurrying down the narrow staircase to see what had happened.
“Henry!”
He sat on the floor near the counter, a toppled chair by his side. The cabinet above was open and a broken bag of flour lay on its side. And everything was covered in white.
“My word, child!” She dropped the dirty clothes and hurried over to him. “Are you okay?”
Tears began to slide down his cheeks.
“Are you hurt?” She checked his arms and legs for any sign of injury and then touched his head. He didn’t seem to be in pain, but his tears kept flowing. “What on earth were you doing?”
“Making c-c-cookies,” he sobbed.
Myrna frowned. “But you were supposed to collect the towels from the bathroom, Henry.”
“C-c-cookies.”