Laura Beth laid a hand on Ruth’s arm. “Just so you know, Joshua and I would be thrilled to take her.”
Ruth smiled at her. “You would make wonderful parents for Grace, but the decision isn’t going to be mine to make.”
Parting with the child would be hard for her. She suspected it was going to be much harder for Owen.
* * *
RUTH TRIED TO prepare herself, but she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her children when Ernest arrived on his tractor early the next morning. She had given up trying to talk Faron out of going. Was Owen right? If she forbade Faron to leave would he take off on his own? She couldn’t take that chance. She didn’t like it, but he would be better off traveling with some of his family to look out for him. Knowing that didn’t stop the tears that welled up in her eyes. She blinked rapidly to keep them from sliding down her cheeks.
Ernest’s mother occupied one of the several chairs he had placed in his homemade trailer. Like many of the Amish in the community, Ernest had taken the bed from an old pickup and fashioned it into the trailer to be pulled behind his tractor. Unlike many other people, Ernest had painted his trailer to match his red tractor. Some people considered it too fancy, but Ernest claimed it would soon be scuffed enough to match the unpainted and rusty ones on the road so the bishop didn’t object.
Ernest got down from the tractor and walked to Ruth’s side. “Cheer up. You are going to be just fine until Faron and I come back. Owen will take good care of you and the farms.”
Zack and Owen walked past him and put down the tailgate at the back of the trailer. Faron climbed up over the wheel and took the suitcases Owen passed to him. Faron was the only one with a big smile on his face. Grace watched everything from the porch with Meeka sitting beside her.
Ruth drew Ella into a hug. “Write as soon as you can. Keep a close eye on your brother. Don’t let him get into trouble. Lock him in his room if you have to.”
“I’m not going to get into trouble,” Faron replied in a long-suffering tone.
Ruth sent him a stern look. “That’s what you said the first time your father let you drive the buggy. Who took the corner too fast and upset the buggy in the ditch?”
Faron shook his head and glanced at Ernest. “She’s never going to let me forget that. Thanks for squealing on me that day.”
Ernest laughed and slapped his knee. “Aw, the look on your face was too funny not to share. You were standing in the road pulling your hat down over your head with both hands saying, ‘My daed’s going to kill me. My daed’s going to kill me.’ And that was before you even saw me in the field coming to help you. I never did figure out if you were praying out loud or just talking to the horse.”
Ernest’s mother, Lavinia, grinned. “I remember that day. That was a good story, sohn. You had us all laughing the way you told it. Owen, come and give your grossmammi a hug. You had better visit me before you leave again.”
He hopped in the back, gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I promise to come over when you’ve recovered from this trip.”
“At my age you don’t recover from things, you just accept that you can’t do what you did before.”
Faron glared at his great-uncle. “I don’t mind that you found the situation funny, but you could have helped me get the buggy upright without telling my folks and everyone else what happened. I could have fixed the scratches on the side and no one would have been the wiser.”
“Faron.” Ruth stared at her son in disbelief.
Faron’s gaze snapped to his mother’s face. “I didn’t mean I intended to deceive you. I was going to tell you and Daed what happened. It’s just, well, I wanted to fix what I had done before telling you,” he finished in a rush.
Ernest started laughing again. “See if you can get your other foot in your mouth. You surely do have a knack for it.”
Ruth took Ella by both shoulders. “As I was saying, keep a very good eye on your brother and try to keep him out of trouble.”
Faron flopped down on one of the chairs. “Everyone treats me like I’m a little kid. No one wants to admit I’m an adult.”
Owen helped Ella into the trailer. She patted the top of her brother’s black hat. “It would help if you stopped talking sooner.”
He ducked his head away from her. “What do you know? You’re a girl. A fellow wants a chance to fix his own mistakes before everyone learns about them. You understand, don’t you, Zack?”
“I understand that my wife is right. My wife is almost always right. If she isn’t, I keep my mouth shut. You should do the same.”
Owen closed the tailgate and climbed up to stand behind Ernest. He would bring the tractor and trailer back to the farm after the family boarded the bus in town. Ernest climbed up to the tractor seat. “This is going to be a fun trip. Ruth, I wish you were going with us.”
She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but she was sorry to miss the adventure, too. Not because she wanted to travel but because she had never been separated from her children for so long. “Take good care of them, Ernest. Gott go with you.”
He raised his hat in a brief salute and drove out of the yard and down the lane. Ruth climbed the steps to the porch and stood with her hand resting on Grace’s shoulder until the tractor turned onto the highway and was soon out of sight.
Ruth’s throat grew tight and tears blurred her vision. Grace leaned against Ruth’s side. “Don’t be sad. They’ll come back. Owen said so.”
Ruth sniffled and wiped her eyes. “I know they’ll be back, but I miss them already.”
Grace pressed against Ruth’s skirt. “Me, too.”
Ruth drew comfort from the child’s touch. “Let’s go make a pie for supper. That will cheer us up.”
Grace tipped her head to the side as she gazed at Ruth. “Will it?”
Ruth nodded vigorously. “Baking always makes me feel better. When I make it, and when I eat it. What kind of pie shall we make?”
“I like all kinds of pie.”
“Then I think I will make an apple pie if you can peel the apples for me.”
“I don’t think I know how to peel an apple.”
“It’s easy. I will put the apples on the peeler for you and all you have to do is turn the crank.” Ruth glanced over her shoulder as the tractor reached the highway. Zack and Ella would be back to visit at Christmas. Ernest and Faron would be back in a month. Owen would be back in an hour. Then he would spend weeks working the farm with her. The two of them alone except for Grace, and there was no telling how long the child would remain with them.
Could she count on him? Ruth wanted to believe she could, but trust was something easily broken and hard to repair. Was he willing to put in the effort it took to show he had changed, or would he disappoint her once again?
She desperately wanted to believe he would stay, because she was beginning to like Owen Mast more than she should.
CHAPTER TWELVE
OWEN DROPPED THE family off at the bus station and after a short goodbye he drove back to Ruth’s as quickly as he could. Grace hadn’t objected to his leaving, but he wasn’t sure how long that frame of mind would last. He didn’t want Ruth to deal with a frantic child on top of sending her own children off. Not that she couldn’t handle it, but he couldn’t relax until he knew they were both okay.
To his relief Ruth and Grace were both in the kitchen eating fresh apple pie with a scoop of ice cream on top. The whole house smelled like baked apples and cinnamon. His mouth started to water the moment he came through the door.
Grace caught sight of him. “Look, Owen, we made pie.”
Ruth glanced at him but quickly looked away. “Would you like some?”
Did she still blame him for Faron’s departure? It was more likely she was sad and trying to hide it. “I thought you would never ask. Don’t get up. I’ll get my own.”
He got a dish out of th
e cupboard and cut a large wedge from the pie. It was still warm. He opened the freezer compartment and brought out the ice cream. He added a scoop to his slice. “Does anyone want more ice cream before I put it back?”
“Me. I do.” Grace held out her bowl.
Owen looked to Ruth for permission before giving the child more.
She nodded her consent. He gave Grace another half scoop and sat down at the table to eat his. The first bite was every bit as delicious as the aroma had been. “Goot pie,” he muttered around his mouthful.
Grace tipped her head. “Danki. Ruth helped me.”
He glanced at Ruth, but she still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It’s always best to give credit where credit is due,” he said in a firm tone.
Grace’s mouth turned down in a pout. “Maybe I helped Ruth some.”
He smiled and patted her head. “That’s what I like. An honest answer.”
It bothered him that Ruth didn’t smile and wouldn’t look his way. Was she uncomfortable having him in the house now that her children were gone? The last thing he wanted to do was cause her discomfort.
“Hurry up and finish, Grace. We need to get back to the house and do our chores.”
“Okay.” She dug into her treat with renewed relish.
Ruth looked up with a small frown etched into her forehead. “Aren’t you going to stay for supper?”
“We have plenty to eat at Onkel’s farm. We don’t want to be any trouble to you.”
“I see.” She looked away again.
Had he given her the wrong answer? Should he tell her he would love to stay, or would that be too forward now that he had already turned down her invitation? He decided on a different course of action. He leaned back in his chair. “I know it will probably seem lonely without Faron, Ella and Zack here. If you would like Grace to stay with you tonight, I understand.”
Ruth looked up with a small smile. “It does seem lonely without them. That must seem silly because they were gone much of the time recently. If Grace wants to stay with me she’s more than welcome, and danki.”
“What do you say, Grace? Do you want to spend the night with Ruth?”
“Sure.”
“Even though I won’t be staying with you?”
Grace stopped eating and scowled at him. “Why won’t you stay?”
“Because it wouldn’t be proper, and I’m not going to discuss that any further. Will you stay here without me?”
“Okay. I like this house better.” She went back to eating her pie.
Owen glanced at Ruth. She looked every bit as shocked as he was. This was the child who, four days ago, had screamed whenever he stepped out of her sight?
“Goot. I reckon I’ll see you both in the morning, then.”
“Stay and finish your pie,” Ruth said.
“I wasn’t going to leave it on my plate. Who knows when I’ll get a piece of hot apple pie again?”
Grace grinned at him. “Silly. You can always ask Ruth to make you another one.”
He wasn’t going to be around to ask her anything after Ernest came back. The thought left him feeling hollow. It was difficult to keep his smile in place. “I’ll remember that.”
He finished his pie, pushed back from the table and went out into the cold evening.
He drove the tractor to Ernest’s farm and finished the evening chores, making sure the cattle and horses had plenty of feed and fresh water. The daytime temperatures had been staying above freezing, but once the sun started going down, the temperature dropped rapidly into the twenties. Because of that, the ice never fully melted off the large stock tanks. Keeping them open was a twice-a-day job.
When he was finished, he stood by the barn door, looking out over the countryside. The drab brown-and-gray landscape was only broken where the winter wheat fields hung on to their green color and where the deep snow hadn’t yet melted away.
Grace’s mother was out there somewhere. The muddy fields near the farmhouse were crisscrossed with the footprints of searchers and the tracks of four-wheelers. He didn’t know where to look that someone hadn’t already explored ahead of him.
It was a sad reminder of all his fruitless searches for Rebecca. The most painful part had been learning she didn’t remember him when he’d finally found her. At least she was willing to see him again.
If they couldn’t locate Grace’s mother, Grace would lose her memory of the woman who gave birth to her. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was better not to remember the things she had lost.
The loss of his parents, his brothers and his older sister stayed with him every day. He knew they were happy with God in heaven, though he still didn’t understand why he had been left behind.
Meeka got up off the porch and came to his side. He patted her large white head. “I wish you could speak and tell me where you found her.”
Meeka yawned and trotted off toward the sheep pasture. Her job was to protect the sheep, not to answer foolish humans. He went into the house and came out with a flashlight. It would be dark soon, but this was the first chance he’d had to look for Grace’s mother. He wasn’t going to waste it.
Hours later, muddy and exhausted from climbing down into gullies, probing snowdrifts and hiking along the edge of the lake, Owen returned home, discouraged and depressed. Like the searchers before him, he hadn’t found a single trace of Grace’s mother or her car.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Owen hurried through his chores and drove the tractor to Ruth’s place, eager to see how she had fared with Grace. Or maybe he was just eager to see Ruth. She and Grace were already out feeding the chickens and ducks. Grace came running up to him. “I gathered the eggs already. Have you seen my mother?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t see her.”
Grace’s expression grew sad. He wanted to cheer her up. “I’m happy you are helping Ruth with the chores. How many eggs did you find?”
“Lots and lots. One hen tried to peck my hand when I took the egg out from under her.”
“That happens to me all the time. I don’t think chickens like me.”
Ruth came over to stand behind Grace. “I had no idea that chickens were so perceptive.”
He grinned. “So it’s gonna be like that, is it? Tit for tat? Insult for insult?”
She tried to look prim but couldn’t carry it off. “You left yourself wide-open, admit it.”
“Maybe I did. I’ll be more careful in the future. How did the night go?”
She smiled at Grace. “Not too bad. One squawk out of our chick at three this morning.”
Grace looked up at her. “What chick?”
“You.”
“I’m not a chick. I’m a girl.”
Owen nodded. “That’s right. She’s a girl. I’m sorry for your interrupted sleep.”
“It’s okay. I knew the words to your song, so I stood in for you until she went back to sleep. Would you like some coffee? Have you had breakfast?”
“Ja, coffee sounds goot and I haven’t eaten. I was hoping for another piece of pie.”
“Pie for breakfast?” Grace shook her head. “That’s just silly.”
“What? It’s fruit and pastry.”
“Breakfast is oatmeal and eggs,” Ruth said to end the discussion.
He nodded. “That will work, too.”
“When do you plan to shear your sheep?” Owen remained at the table when the meal was finished, sipping on a cup of black coffee.
Ruth sat across from Owen, looking prettier than she should have, considering the night she’d had. She leaned back in her chair and met his gaze. “We need to start Monday. The ewes should begin lambing in two weeks.”
“That’s a tight schedule.”
“I had hoped to get the shearing done before Ernest left, but something slowed us down.”
He knew she was referring to the search. Everyone who had come to help had left their own work undone in the hopes of locating the woman. “Let’s pray the weather cooperates from now on out. The newspaper said we can expect warming temperatures and sunshine for the next two weeks.”
“The rain won’t stop our lambs from being born.”
“Being cold and wet might affect the number of your lambs that survive.”
“True. We’ll have to deal with that when the time comes. Ernest said you had experience on sheep farms.”
“I know how to use a pair of shears if that’s what you’re asking.”
She looked relieved. “That’s exactly what I’m asking. With eighty head to be shorn I was afraid I might have to hire someone this year.”
“Are you thinking that you and I can do this ourselves?” It seemed mighty optimistic to him.
“I can handle my share of the work. My knee barely hurts anymore.”
“Maybe, but I would feel better with one more fellow to give us a hand.”
“If it looks like we can’t manage I’ll hire someone.”
He took another sip from his mug. “Are your catch pens ready or do I need to check them?”
“They should be in good shape. Faron was to see to it before he left, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure all the holes are plugged. You know how sheep are. If one gets out all the rest will try. There are additional fencing panels stored in Faron’s workshop.”
“I’ll take care of it and set up the shearing station. Do you have electric clippers?”
“We use hand shears. It leaves a longer coat on them than electric clippers. With our unpredictable weather it’s better that they don’t get shorn too short.”
“I know the sheep need to spend at least a night inside the barn to make sure the wool is dry and won’t rot in storage. What about your Icelandic sheep? Do they need to be dry longer?”
“Their long outer coat sheds water very well. If the weather stays dry, we won’t have any trouble with them. We should move them all into the closest pen today.”
The Hope Page 14