He glanced at his uncle asleep in the chair. Ernest was the linchpin that had kept Owen from drifting completely away from Ruth and the children. Ernest had always insisted that Owen let him know where he was. Each time Owen stopped in one place long enough to earn the money needed to move on, he had mailed a postcard or letter to let Ernest know where to reach him. That was why he had given Rebecca Ernest’s address.
His uncle was a better storyteller than a writer, but he passed on some of the everyday news of Cedar Grove in his letters. He wrote outlandish fishing stories mixed with snippets about the weather and farm prices, but he always ended his letters the same way.
Ruth and the children are doing fine. They would love to see you.
Until his last letter. It had been uncharacteristically brief.
Owen,
I must be away from the farm for a few weeks. Can you look after the place for me? Ruth is going to need help, too. Please come as soon as you can.
It was the only time his uncle had asked anything of Owen. He would’ve come even if Ernest hadn’t said that Ruth was going to need help. When Owen arrived at his uncle’s farm it had been a relief to find his uncle was simply taking a long-overdue vacation with his mother and that Faron planned to go along. Owen had been upset to learn Ruth wasn’t privy to Faron’s plan. He knew she wasn’t going to like it and he’d been right. He also knew she would blame him.
He willingly faced her ire because he wanted to make amends for his absences in the past. He needed to prove to Ruth and Ernest that they could depend on him. In a way, he had to prove to himself that he was dependable, that he wouldn’t let Ruth down the way he had failed her in the past.
He should’ve stayed to help Ruth after Nathan’s death. His uncle Karl, Nathan’s father, had been in poor health by then but he wasn’t about to give up control of the farm and he was too stubborn to admit he and Ruth would need help. He’d given Owen a letter from a bishop in Indiana who wrote that Thelma Stoltzfus was a member of his congregation along with a girl named Rebecca. Karl had urged Owen to go at once. He knew what finding Rebecca meant to Owen and how many times Owen had missed them by a few weeks or even days.
Leaving Karl to explain the situation to Ruth, Owen had taken the next bus east. Two days later he had arrived in Elkhart, Indiana, only to discover that the woman in question wasn’t his aunt. She had merely been an Amish woman with the same name who had a daughter called Rebecca. As soon as Owen realized he’d made the trip for nothing he should’ve gone back, but he hadn’t. That had been his real mistake.
Ruth put her knitting aside. “I’m going to turn in. Don’t wake Ernest. He often sleeps in that chair when he stays over. Owen, do you need anything?”
“I’ll be fine.”
The rest of the family bade him good-night and left the room. Ruth remained. She held out her hand. “Grace, it’s time to go to bed. You can sleep in my room, if you like.”
Grace shook her head. “I want to stay with Owen.”
He put aside his knife. “I’ll fix up her cot again. Good night, Ruth, and thank you for all you have done for her.”
“Think nothing of it.”
She left the room and he tossed his wood shavings into the fire. After making up Grace’s cot, he tucked her in and returned to his chair to stare into the fire. He heard his uncle shifting his position and looked over at him.
“Ruth is a good woman,” Ernest said, followed by a deep yawn.
“I’ve always known that.” She kept a fine house, ran a farm and raised two children after laying her husband in the ground. She was remarkable.
“Didn’t you court her when you were teenagers?”
“We went to a few singings together. That was a long time ago.”
“Maybe, but I still remember my first love, and I’m a lot older than you. The heart doesn’t forget even if that girl marries someone else.”
Owen shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I never said she was my first love. She picked the right man. You can’t dispute that. I had nothing to offer her. Nathan had a farm and a passion for the land.”
Ernest grunted. “It’s not what a man has in this world. It’s what he makes of it. You left because you were afraid of loving and losing her.”
Owen’s jaw dropped. “How could you know that?”
“Because I know you. Don’t get me wrong, Nathan was a goot decent man. He loved Ruth. They had a goot life together, but she would have had a fine life with you, too. The trouble with you, boy, is that you never believed you deserved happiness. You still don’t. You’re scared of it. Well, you’re wrong. Gott has given you a chance to change that. Don’t mess it up this time.”
Ernest turned his head to the side and closed his eyes. “You’d better get some sleep.”
Owen sat glued to his chair by his uncle’s words. What would his life have been like if he hadn’t left at eighteen? Would he and Ruth have made a life together? Had the search for his sister been an excuse to cover his own feelings of unworthiness? Was he afraid of loving others because he feared losing them? In his heart he knew it was true. It was a sobering thought.
Owen put his head back and stared at the ceiling. Everyone he loved had been taken away in the blink of an eye except Rebecca, and he hadn’t been able to hold on to her. How could he hope to find love and happiness when it might be snatched from him again?
He cared about Ruth, but he couldn’t allow his emotions to go beyond that. The search for his sister might have been an excuse to leave before, but she was the very real reason he would have to leave again. Until he knew Rebecca was safe and happy, he couldn’t think about his own future.
* * *
OWEN SLEPT FITFULLY that night and rose before anyone else was up and about. He had coffee brewing when Ruth came down. She scowled at him. He figured she wasn’t used to someone taking over her kitchen.
“Don’t you like the way I make coffee?”
He shrugged. “It’s all right.” Her eyebrows shot up and he laughed. “Of course I like your coffee. I’m just trying to repay your kindness. How is the knee?”
“Better,” she admitted grudgingly.
“I wish the weather was better.”
“It sounds like the wind has backed off.”
“I think you’re right but it’s still snowing.” If nothing else, they could talk about the weather.
Ernest came into the room, scratching his head and yawning. “Morning. The coffee smells goot.”
“Have a seat and I’ll get some breakfast started if Owen will move aside.”
Owen bowed and stepped away from the stove. “Be my guest.”
The rest of the family trooped in after a few minutes along with Grace, who sat down beside Owen at the table. Ella joined her mother at the stove. They soon had sausages and eggs ready along with toast and thick white sausage gravy.
After a silent prayer they began passing platters to each other. “Do we have a plan today?” Faron asked.
“Wait out the worst of the storm and then check on the flock,” Ruth said. “It will be a good time to make sure the lambing pens in the barn are ready to go.”
“What about, you know.” Faron nodded toward Grace.
“We’ll resume that as soon as we can,” Ernest said quietly. “For now we have chores waiting in spite of the weather.”
Owen turned to Grace. “I have to help with chores outside and you have to help Ruth with the chores inside. I’ll be back soon. Okay?”
Worry clouded Grace’s eyes. “You’ll come back?”
“As soon as my work is done. Ruth needs your help until then.”
“Okay.” She agreed but she didn’t look happy about it.
Owen grinned. “Goot.”
* * *
RUTH LET OUT the breath she’d been holding. At least Grace wasn’t hysterical at the thought of him b
eing out of her sight. Maybe the child was getting over her fear of others.
After the meal, Faron and Owen went outside to work. Grace helped clear the table and carried some of the dishes to the sink. Ruth thanked her with a quick hug. Zack went out to bring in more firewood while Ella opened the door to the cellar where all of last summer’s produce was stored. “Mamm, did you have anything in mind to fix for lunch later today?”
“Bring up some of the meat we canned and more potatoes. We’ll make beef stew.” Ruth placed the last plates in the sink. “Then we might make another dress for Grace.”
Grace grinned and clapped her hands.
“And a black kapp. They don’t show the grime as quickly.” Ella nodded toward the child, who had a smear of strawberry jam on the side of her face and on her new white kapp.
Ruth wet a washrag and cleaned Grace’s cheek. She dabbed at the stain on the kapp and grinned at her daughter. “You’re right. You make a couple of black ones, and I’ll make another white one. I like the way the white looks against her pretty hair.”
“It’s not how we look that makes us pretty,” Grace said in a solemn voice. “It’s how we act.”
“I’d bet your mother taught you that,” Ella said with a knowing smile for Ruth.
Grace nodded once. “She did. I miss her. When is she coming to get me?”
Ruth gathered her close in a hug. “I don’t know, but Gott is with her, so you don’t need to be scared.”
Grace wrapped her arms around Ruth’s neck. “That’s what Owen told me.”
“Then for once, Owen was right,” Ruth murmured against the child’s hair.
* * *
FARON AND OWEN soon had the horse, chickens, cows and sheep fed and made sure they all had open water in the stock tanks by chopping through the ice with an ax. Unless the temperature climbed above freezing they would need to be opened again in the evening. Zack entered the barn, picked up the three-legged stool and a pail and went to milk the family’s two cows. Faron nodded toward the back of the building. “Come see what we’ve done since you were last here.”
He opened a door to an addition on the rear of the barn. “This is our new lambing shed.” He gestured toward the ceiling. “I put in a skylight so we have natural light for the lambs and ewes during the day. On hot days it can be opened for ventilation. We have gaslights for working at night. As you can see, it’s got all the comforts of home. Propane refrigerator for keeping colostrum and milk substitute handy, a small stove to warm bottles and keep it comfy in here for humans and lambs. There’s also a couple of cots I’ve never used, but Mamm sometimes stays out here.”
Owen surveyed the little pens on either side of the main aisle. “Do you often have this many sick newborns in here?”
“The small pens are for the orphan lambs and for getting an ewe to adopt one if she has lost hers or only has one. We sometimes treat sick ewes in here, too.”
Ernest walked in. “Getting the tour?”
Owen looked over the number of pens. He had worked herding sheep, but he’d never helped with lambing. “Do you get a lot of orphans?”
“We don’t lose many ewes,” Faron said, “but an ewe with twins or triplets will sometimes only nurse one. We put an ewe that’s lost her baby in with the rejected or motherless lamb and hope she’ll accept it. Sometimes it works, sometimes we end up bottle-feeding it.”
Ernest slapped Owen on the shoulder. “Sometimes we end up bottle-feeding a dozen or more. I gotta say I love that part. Nothing is cuter than a newborn lamb. They melt your heart. Think you can do this?”
“If I say no will you leave Faron here?”
Faron scowled at Owen. “I’m going. If you don’t want to do this, I’ll find someone else.”
“Then I guess I can do it.” Owen turned and walked out of the barn into the larger sheep pens. Only a few animals stood around the hay feeders. They were coated with snow but didn’t seem to notice it sitting on their thick wooly backs.
The snow was becoming lighter, but the wind had kicked up again, blowing the snow that had already fallen across the pasture and forming drifts along the fences.
“If this keeps up we’ll have to dig out some sheep for sure,” Ernest said, holding on to his hat as he stepped out beside Owen. “They huddle together and get drifted over with snow. They can eat the snow for water and paw down for old grass to nibble but if the snow gets too deep they can smother.”
Owen pulled his collar tight. “I pray Grace’s mother isn’t out in this weather.”
“The sheriff and our neighbors will resume the search once it clears. We’ll find her. Until then she is in Gott’s hands.”
The two men walked back into the house. Grace came running up to Owen. “You came back.”
“I told you I’d be back.” He slipped out of his coat and picked her up. “What are you doing?”
“Ruth is making me another dress, and Ella is making me a black kapp ’cause I’m messy.”
“Sounds about right.” He put her down, and she raced back into the living room. He followed more slowly.
He and Ernest were stuck here until the weather cleared. He knew Ernest didn’t mind but Owen had no idea how he was going to get through another day of Ruth’s silent displeasure.
Faron laid aside the supplies he had been assembling for the lambing shed. “Owen, tell us about Maryland.”
Owen caught Ruth’s sour look, but she didn’t say anything. He considered declining but decided there was nothing wrong with sharing his experiences. It didn’t mean he was encouraging Faron to travel to the East Coast. “Maryland is a pretty place. Lots of history, from sailing ships to the first railroad, grand old houses. The coast is marshy in places. If you ever go to Maryland, you have to have the crab cakes. They are amazing.”
“People eat crabs in their cake?” Grace made an ugly face. “That sounds yucky.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Ruth continued hemming the dress she had completed for Grace.
“I’ve often wanted to try fresh seafood,” Ella said, jumping into the conversation.
“Maybe we can extend our wedding trip to visit the Gulf Coast,” Zack suggested.
“Oh, could we?” Ella’s eyes lit up at the thought.
“I don’t see why not.”
Faron sat back in his chair. “Now I am going to be jealous. Where else have you been, Owen?”
Owen proceeded to tell them about his trip to the Amish communities in Maryland while he was looking for his sister. He didn’t share the heartbreak of each dead end of his search. No one wanted to hear his sad story. He managed to keep them entertained until lunchtime. For a while it seemed that even Ruth was interested in his tales, but he thought perhaps he only imagined it.
After lunch Ruth retreated to her bedroom upstairs, and he didn’t see her for the rest of the day.
* * *
THE STORM KEPT everyone indoors for another day, but it finally blew itself out during the night and daybreak brought the return of sunshine. Before long the snow was melting off the roof, forming long icicles and puddles in the yard. Even with the warmer temperature Owen knew it would be two weeks or more before all the snowdrifts were gone.
After breakfast Ernest began putting on his coat. “I should get going. I have chores waiting at my place and I have to check on Meeka. Zack and Faron, come over to my place when you can. I’m sure the sheriff will be out once the roads are plowed by the county maintenance worker.”
“I’ll come with you,” Ella said.
Owen stood up. “I’ll ride back to your place with you and help with the search. Ruth, do you mind keeping Grace? I know she’ll be better off here than with two old bachelors.”
“I’d be happy to look after her.”
Owen cupped Grace’s chin in his hand. “Be goot for Ruth.”
He turned and started toward the doo
r. Grace rushed after him and tried to pull her coat off the hook. “I’m going, too.”
He took her hand. “Nee, I want you to stay with Ruth. She’ll take good care of you.”
“I wanna go with you. I stay with you until you find my mamm. You said so. You promised.”
“I know what I said but Ruth is much better at taking care of a little girl. Ernest and I will look for your mommy today. Until we find her you should stay here.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and she threw her arms around his leg and sobbed, “Don’t leave me.”
Ernest let out a low whistle. “I see what you’ve been up against. You should stay here with the child. You don’t mind having him and the child another night, do you, Ruth? I’m sure the bishop would approve.”
Owen turned his gaze on her. She opened her mouth and snapped it shut. She clutched her hands together in front of her apron and spoke through stiff lips. “Owen is welcome for as long as need be.”
Owen knew it was an outright lie. She did mind but she was compelled by her faith to extend aid to any member of the Amish church who came to her door. Even unreliable Owen Mast. He lifted Grace into his arms and chuckled. “I’ll bet those words left a bitter taste.”
He eagerly waited for her comeback.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RUTH HEARD THE amusement in Owen’s voice and wished she could call back the invitation. He might find humor in this situation, but she didn’t. A dozen retorts ran through her head, but she swallowed them all unspoken and patted herself on the back for her restraint. “My only thought is for the welfare of the child. She seems to need you, although I can’t conceive why that is.”
He looked disappointed by her response. “Her attachment is not my doing.”
“I’m not suggesting it is, but I do find it odd.”
The Hope Page 9