by Sarah Price
“Hmm.” He reached down and pressed his hand to Katie’s cheeks. A dark cloud appeared to cover his face. He moved his hand to touch her forehead and then the back of her neck. “She’s burning with fever.”
“What?” Myrna shifted Katie in her arms and freed her hand so that she, too, could feel the child’s face. “I . . . I didn’t notice.”
“You didn’t notice that she’s feverish?”
“I . . . I thought she was just warm from all the fussing and crying.” Saying those words made her feel foolish. How could she have been so stupid that she didn’t realize the child had a fever?
Ezekiel didn’t respond. Instead, he walked over to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet so that he could soak a clean cloth in cold water.
Myrna watched from where she sat, wondering what he was thinking. Was he angry that she hadn’t fetched him from the fields? What did it matter anyway? It wasn’t as if he would give the boppli medicine to bring down the fever.
Still, she felt terrible for having ignored the obvious warning sign.
Returning to where she sat, Ezekiel handed her the washcloth. “Cool her down with this.”
Obediently, Myrna took the washcloth and gently pressed it to Katie’s flesh.
Ezekiel stood by the rocking chair, his presence causing Myrna to feel nervous, and not just about the baby’s temperature. Twice she felt him brush against her arm.
“She’s probably just teething,” Myrna said. “Babies often cry in church when that’s happening, and it’s around this age.”
“Hmm.” He nodded and reached for the cloth to run it under fresh water. When he handed it to her, he gave her a half smile. “I’ll keep the boys busy outside so you don’t have to worry about them.”
Myrna sighed. “Well, I’ll have to let her cry a bit while I cook your supper.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder, a gentle but firm touch at the same time. “Nee, Myrna. I can cook for the boys. You take care of little Katie.”
When he didn’t remove his hand right away, Myrna looked up, surprised at how worried his eyes looked. She wished she could recommend ibuprofen, but another argument would linger far longer than any pain from teething.
“I’ll check back in a little bit.”
She felt his fingers give her shoulder a soft squeeze before he withdrew his hand and left the kitchen. Long after he retreated outside, she could still feel the lingering warmth of his touch. Holding the baby, Myrna shut her eyes and wondered about Ezekiel and the conflicting emotions that arose within her whenever he was around.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Crying and a slight fever, you say?” Edna sat at the table in Verna’s kitchen, watching as Wilma washed and Mary dried the bowls. “Sounds like teething,” she said.
Even though it was not a worship Sunday, they’d gathered again at Verna’s house on Friday to make a second batch of cookies for Yoders’ Store. The first batch had almost sold out already.
As the cookies baked in the oven, the sweet smell of warm sugar filled the room. Six baking sheets were waiting on the counter to go into the oven as soon as the first batch cooked.
They’d been making cookies for so many years that everything came second nature to them. No one had to instruct the others as to who did what. They just innately knew and went to work.
But now, as the cookies baked, it was time to relax and get caught up. And, as usual, everyone had turned to Verna for an update about Myrna and Ezekiel.
Verna leaned against the counter near the sink. “It worries me,” she admitted. “Myrna looked exhausted when Ezekiel brought her home last evening.”
“What ho!” Wilma turned off the kitchen faucet. “He brought her home? Again?”
Mary set the last bowl into the drying rack and hung the towel over the counter. “Well, that certainly progressed quickly, didn’t it, now?”
“It normally does,” Edna said, “when two people realize they are meant for each other.”
“No sense dragging it out like the Englischers do!” Wilma added.
“I never thought of it that way,” Edna said. “But you’re right. They do drag things out, don’t they?”
“And it doesn’t seem to make their marriages any stronger.”
Edna raised her eyebrows. “Another good point. Why, Wilma, when did you become so wise?”
“Always have been.” Wilma laid her hand on Edna’s arm. “It’s about time you realized it.”
They laughed—all of them except Verna.
“I’m really concerned about her,” she said. “She practically fell right into her bed. Said the baby just cried all day.”
Wilma put her hand to the side of her mouth and whispered none too softly, “Better get the ear candle.”
“Oh hush!” Verna took the towel from the counter and threw it at Wilma. “This is serious.”
“I’m sorry, Verna.” She glanced at Edna and winked.
Ignoring Wilma’s theatrics, Verna continued. “I told Myrna to keep an eye on the child. I thought she was teething, too, but that fever . . .” She shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Don’t like the sound of that one bit.”
“Me, neither.” Edna could hardly remember when her own children had teethed. It felt like a lifetime ago. But she did remember that it was a horrible phase, especially when they were as young as little Katie Riehl. “Myrna really should take the boppli to see a doctor.”
Verna sighed. “You know Ezekiel would never agree to that.”
“Give her some beaten egg whites mixed with sugar and water,” Wilma offered.
Edna cringed. “That sounds terrible!”
“My maem swore by that remedy.”
“It still sounds terrible.”
“Well, it might have tasted terrible, but it sure cured our fevers.”
The other ladies laughed.
“Well, terrible-tasting or not, she might have to try it,” Verna said. “Neither one of them can continue at this rate. And I’m sure Ezekiel’s exhausted, too. He works all day and then has a crying baby all night.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Wilma said. She moved over to the table and sat down across from Edna. “Why wouldn’t he take the boppli to a doctor?”
Verna shrugged. “Just his principles, I suppose.”
“Well that’s just plain ignorant.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Mayhaps you don’t want him courting your dochder anyway, Verna.”
Mary gasped. “Don’t say that! Not with everything so close for Myrna!”
Edna raised her hands into the air, a gesture to shut down the inevitable bickering that would eventually arise if the conversation continued. “Might I suggest we change the direction of dialogue here? We’ve a beautiful day before us, and there’s no sense ruining it with escalating arguments.” She scanned their faces. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
A silence ensued, and Edna took advantage of it to pass around the little white cards that Bethany had made. “Now, we should each take ten of these and neatly write oatmeal cookies on them. That should keep our hands from being idle as well as our tongues.” She looked at Wilma and widened her eyes. “Right?”
“Hmph.”
“And just think of all the money we’ll be raising to help families in need within our community,” Edna continued. “If we have to be known as the Amish Cookie Club, then at least the name will be associated with charitable works.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“How was the baby today?” Verna asked when Myrna walked into the house.
“Fussy. Very fussy,” she said as she kicked off her black sneakers. “It’s exhausting taking care of children.” She plopped herself into the recliner and shut her eyes. “But she did nap a little better today than yesterday. And she was sleeping soundly when I left. I sure hope she stayed asleep while David was watching her. She’s terribly cranky when she’s awake.”
Her heart broke for her daughter. Verna knew all too well the pain of watching a sick
child suffering. And yet, as their mother, Verna had been able to make decisions about her children and their care. How painful it must be for Myrna not to be able to do the same for Katie.
“And Ezekiel?” she asked, hoping that her voice didn’t sound overly curious.
Myrna sighed, opening her eyes and peering at her mother. “He spent a good deal of time checking in on us. I don’t know how he’d manage if I wasn’t there. Even so, he surely got nothing done.”
“Well, little ones do get fevers, especially this time of year when the seasons change.”
Myrna gave a half-hearted smile. “I know that, Maem. But I just wish he . . .” She stopped midsentence.
“He what?” Verna prodded.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She rubbed her cheeks with her hands. “He was so quiet when he drove me back home. Something was bothering him, I could tell.”
Verna could understand that. Whenever one of her children took ill, she’d always withdrawn into herself. Focusing all of her energy on their well-being was just as exhausting as tending to them when they weren’t sick.
“He’s concerned. I’m sure that’s all.”
Myrna took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I suppose that’s it. I just wish I understood him better.”
“How so?”
She sat up and straightened her apron on her lap. “Well, things were going so well, you know?”
Verna nodded but didn’t dare speak. She didn’t want to interrupt her daughter. This was the first time Myrna had opened up about Ezekiel. While she had a dozen questions that she’d have loved to ask, Verna knew that it was better to just let her speak and remain silent.
“I . . . I guess I had hoped that, well, something might have happened.” She glanced at her mother but then quickly averted her eyes. “I can’t deny that I have feelings for him.”
“Feelings?”
Myrna nodded. “I do, Maem. Just like you told me before. I didn’t want to have feelings for him, especially with his strange conservative beliefs. But I reckon I just forgot about that.” She frowned. “I mean, he doesn’t seem so conservative otherwise. He’s good with the boys and truly concerned about Katie. A man who is so tenderhearted and considerate cannot be anything other than a gut man, ja?”
Verna wasn’t certain how to answer that.
“But when I see the boppli crying and there’s nothing in the house to make her feel better, I feel different about him.” She paused as if seeking the right word. “Torn. Ja, that’s better. I feel torn. How can I want to spend my life with someone who wouldn’t call the doctor or fetch medicine to take away the child’s pain?”
The hurt in her daughter’s face tugged at Verna’s heart. She shared Myrna’s sentiments. After seeing Ezekiel with Myrna at MayFest, she, too, had become hopeful. Everything else about the man was just right for her daughter. His attentiveness and thoughtfulness were clear indicators of how he felt for Myrna. And an older Amish man would never lead on a young woman. Clearly a marriage proposal was imminent.
But Verna wasn’t certain how her daughter could agree to marry Ezekiel with this one thing coming between them.
“Mayhaps you could talk to him, Myrna?” It made the most sense. There was no time to beat around the bush on this issue. “You seem to have a strong enough friendship. You should just ask him straight out.”
Myrna gasped, a horrified look covering her face. “I couldn’t do that!”
Verna gave her an exasperated look. “Oh, Myrna. Don’t say that. Why! You’ve always been the one who spoke up and did what you thought was best.”
“And it always got me into trouble!” Myrna reminded her.
She couldn’t help but give a little laugh. “That’s true, ja. I’m quite familiar with your history in that regard.” She took a second to become sober once again. “But you always knew in your heart that your intentions were gut and followed your righteous beliefs. And, frankly, I’ve never seen you happier than when you started working for Ezekiel.”
Myrna nodded. “I do enjoy being there and taking care of his family and house.”
“So, speak with Ezekiel. Share your mind on this matter.”
“What if he gets angry again? Like how he reacted when I tried to treat Henry?”
Verna had suspected that incident had been weighing heavily on her daughter’s mind. But fear was clouding Myrna’s judgment. Verna longed to share what she’d learned about Ezekiel’s father-in-law, but it would be even better if Myrna learned the truth directly from the man she loved. “I won’t deny that speaking your mind might upset him. It even might end your chances of marrying him, true. But would you want to marry the man if you held back?” She leaned forward and touched Myrna’s knee. “And this is very important. It’s not something to keep inside, don’t you agree?”
She could see Myrna reflecting on her words. For a few long moments, she remained silent, her finger tapping against the arm of the chair. Finally, she nodded. “You’re right, Maem. If we cannot right this between us, then there is no future, no matter how much I feel for him. But if I speak up and he gets angry, at least I have spoken my mind.”
Verna patted her leg. “There you go. That’s my dochder.”
Myrna gave her a half smile. “Ja, I’m still in here, I suppose.”
“Indeed you are,” Verna said. “I never doubted that for a moment. It’s just that when you feel so strongly for someone, your emotions can cloud your thinking. Let’s have no more mistakes like we had with Henry. Confront him in a kind and respectful way, but don’t let another day go by. You need to know, one way or the other.”
Nodding, Myrna stood up. “One way or the other,” she repeated. “I just hope it’s my way and not the highway.”
Verna watched as her daughter headed toward the stairs. Me, too, she thought. Me, too.
Chapter Thirty
On Saturday morning, Myrna waited inside the kitchen, hovering near the window so that she could see when Ezekiel’s buggy pulled into the driveway. She had made it a habit to always be ready so that he didn’t have to wait for her. He was already going out of his way, driving across town to fetch her.
“Waiting for your beau?”
Myrna cast a stern look of reproach in the direction of Samuel. “Oh hush!”
He laughed as he walked over to the coffeepot. “I’m just teasing you, Myrna,” he said, pouring himself a mug of black coffee. “Don’t be so sensitive.”
“I’m not sensitive,” she snapped back. “I’ve just a lot on my mind.”
“All girls are sensitive when they’re ferhoodled!”
“Samuel Bontrager!”
They both snapped their attention toward their parents’ bedroom door. Verna stood there, her hands on her hips.
“Now you just leave your schwester alone, you hear?” She marched into the room and stood before him. “Or I’ll have her tease you mercilessly when you find yourself courting.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “As if either of you would ever know.”
Verna swatted at his arm, but he darted away, still laughing, and carried his coffee toward the door.
“Never you mind him,” Verna said, listening for the screen door to shut behind him. “He’s just—”
“—being a bruder.” Myrna nodded. She had more important things to think about than Samuel teasing her.
“You sleep all right last night?” her mother asked, picking up the coffeepot to replenish Myrna’s mug.
“Nee, not really.”
“I’m sure. You’ve a lot on your mind.”
Myrna couldn’t have agreed more. It wasn’t the first sleepless night she’d had in the past few weeks. But last night had been the worst. All she could think about was how she would bring up the subject with Ezekiel, to find out why he hadn’t wanted his wife to get medical treatment. She knew that the answers might disappoint her. But she’d spent a long part of the early morning hours praying that that wouldn’t be the case.
Verna glanced toward th
e window. “Ach, he’s here. You best get out there before Samuel says something foolish to him.”
Myrna hurried outside and climbed into the buggy. As she sat down, she caught a glimpse of Ezekiel. To her surprise, he looked completely disheveled. His hair was tousled and his shirt wrinkled. And he had big, dark circles under his eyes.
“Zeke?”
When he looked at her, she noticed how completely exhausted he looked.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The boppli,” he managed to say, his voice cracking. “She cried all night long.”
“All night?” No wonder he appeared so depleted. “My maem suggested she’s teething.”
Under his breath, he grunted, and he focused on guiding the horse down the road. In the mornings, there was always more traffic, even on Saturdays.
The silence in the buggy felt deafening, and Myrna stared out the window. She wanted to broach the subject about calling a doctor or stopping for medicine. But his mood was so dark and dour that she knew it wasn’t the right time.
But there was something else lingering in the air. He might have been tired, but he also seemed indignant.
No, she thought, this was not the right time to speak to him about what weighed so heavily on her heart.
* * *
As soon as she arrived at the house, she hurried to the bedroom where Katie lay on her back, crying. Her arms reached upward and her legs kicked as tears fell down her red cheeks.
“Oh, Ezekiel!” she fumed. “How could you have left her alone like this?”
She reached into the crib and picked up the baby. Almost a year old, Katie was heavy for her age. But again today she was too hot. Immediately, Myrna sat down on the edge of the bed and rested Katie on her lap. Her hands felt the child’s head and neck. She was absolutely burning up. Much worse than before.
“Ezekiel!” she called out. “Ezekiel!”
He appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening when he saw her sitting on his unmade bed.
She didn’t care about propriety. Not now. “She’s sick with fever again!”
He frowned and approached her. Reaching down, he touched the baby’s face. “She wasn’t earlier.”