Abram's Daughters 03 The Sacrifice (17 page)

"'Tis best to pray and not boast of this salvation, just as I do not. The Lord sees your yielded heart and mine. That's what matters most."

Mary Ruth nodded. "Does Dat know of this?"

"Your father is content with the Old Ways." That's all Ida had best be saying. She would not share everything she and Abram had discussed through the years; some of it would no

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Jil"iih |ii> :is troubling to Mary Ruth as it was to her. It was i I Hiilfss to reveal too much, lest she discourage her daughu i'. boundless joy, profoundly registered on her lovely face.

I I lunnah didn't like the thought of winter setting in here

ll'i-lore too long; the cold and bleak season had always

i minded her of her own mortality. She found herself wonder-

i i what it had felt like for Elias to die so suddenly out on the

j i id, Had he endured excruciating pain? Was that the thing

I ill 11 killed a person . . . took a soul from this world to the

As (or winter, the season was good only for missing the nidi o( air-dried clothes on the wash line, the sun beating

I. '\vn on her back as she tended the roadside stand, the sound I Mrds the same songbirds Mamma loved. But the worst of

I was Mary Ruth leaving home in the month of Christmas,

i .ill sad things. And just as Mamma was close to her delivery

I tii , leaving o*dy Hannah and Leah to help with Lydiann

M ii I soon another baby sister or brother. Not much for tending

i" children, Hannah supposed she best get used to holding

I),iliics, what with Ezra Stoltzfus having dropped some strong

I mits about getting married sometime next year. Here lately,

iliough, she didn't know for sure where he stood on the

in,liter ... or where she did. He hadn't gone to the singing

I r.I night, hadn't let her know he wouldn't be there, either,

I1 id he hadn't contacted her to go riding with him next Satm day after dark. Most likely he was still taken up with Humming the loss of his brother. Understandably so.

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Still, something in the back of her mind wondered her about Ezra. He might need a lot more time to get back on his feet. She would wait till he felt more sociable again. But that wasn't her biggest worry.

She was far more concerned over her twin's peculiar cornments about their visit to the meetinghouse last week. Seemed mighty odd to hear Mary Ruth go on so about the Scripture readings. In the deep of Hannah's heart, she feared she and her sister might lose the closeness they'd always had growing up. Mary Ruth's passionate interest in "salvation through grace," as she put it, was the worst of it.

Curling her toes, she flinched at the thought. She ought not to have gone, for had she refused, Mary Ruth might never have gone herself. But she had succumbed to her twin's persuasion Mary Ruth ever so good at pleading, making things seem urgent and all. Hannah wished she'd stood her ground and stayed home. Of course, riding along to Quarryville meant she was on hand to assist Mary Ruth in case there was trouble with the carriage or the horse. Other than that, she had not enjoyed her experience at the strange gathering and had even felt guilty for being there. Her first, and hopefully last, breach of the Ordnung. Yet according to Mary Ruth, Dat had not put his foot down about their going. He'd even given a halfhearted blessing, though not knowing precisely where they were headed.

Quickly she set the table while a kettle of oyster stew simmered on the cook stove. She couldn't help but wonder how much longer Mamma would insist on leaving an empty spot where Sadie had always sat at the table, as if for someone deceased. Mary Ruth's place was empty, too, and not to be

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lillnl by another family member. The family had shrunk down hi near nothing the pain of it especially evident in Mnmma's eyes at mealtime. Wouldn't be long and Leah's pLiiv would also be vacant, once she married Smithy Gid, which she surely would do. Made no sense to be a maidel if a nice boy like Gideon Peachey was asking.

When Mary Ruth returned to her new home away from I mine, she felt nearly wrung out with the effort she'd put forth in steal in and out of the Ebersol Cottage. She could imagine I he fury in Dat if ever she was caught visiting Mamma or her sisters Aunt Lizzie, too.

For now she could put that worry behind her. She found I Lottie in the kitchen peeling yellow delicious apples for drying. Not eager to expend additional energy telling of her visit with Mamma, she asked if Carl was awake from his nap.

"If he isn't, he oughta be," Dottie said, her hair tied back in a ponytail that made her look younger than her years. "Why don't you go and wake him, if you'd like."

Mary Ruth* agreed. "I'll check and see if he's stirring. If he's awake, I'll keep him company for a bit."

Dottie nodded her consent. "He'll be glad to see you. I think he's becoming very attached."

He'll mistakenly think I'm his big sister before too long, she i bought, wondering if that was such a good thing, being that she didn't know how long she would be living here.

In Carl's nursery, she tiptoed to the pint-sized bed and was delighted to see the beautiful boy lying very still but smiling up at her with shining eyes. "Well, hullo, sweetie," she said, standing over him. "Do you want to play with Aunt Mary

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Ruth?" She smiled at the name she'd just assigned to herself.

"Ma-ry," he said, sitting up.

"That's right." She helped him escape from under the tucked-in sheet and blanket.

Together, they found the box of blocks and began to pile them up in a tower, only for Carl to take absolute glee in knocking them down with a swift sweep of his small hand.

Later she took him downstairs to Dottie, and while Carl sat in his high chair and fed himself pieces of orange and banana, Dottie began to tell of the "miracle that occurred when Dr. Henry Schwartz called with news of a baby boy."

Mary Ruth listened with eagerness, thankful for the obvious hand of the sovereign Lord on the Nolts' home, especially because they had longed for a child for a good long time before Dr. Schwartz's phone call had come. "God knows our hearts' cry our deepest desires" was all Mary Ruth was able to express for the lump in her throat.

Intuitively Gid recognized there was something downright gritty about early December that made him contemplate the future and prospects for having a family of his own. Fields had already turned brown and the mouth-watering apples had been picked a few rotten ones languished on the ground, and red fox, scavengers at twilight, came searching them out, devouring them in quick chomps. Farmers were twiddling their thumbs following the corn harvest, looking ahead to the first farm sale of the season and finding excuses to gather in the barnyard, smoking pipe tobacco and chewing the fat, watch-

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|Imi' ttrn;ige boys play cornerball while waiting to bid on a |l! i? of farm equipment. Such happenings turned Gid's

|il- 'imliis to hearth and home, helped along by the scent of

|> Hiiiiiinon pervading the kitchen as spicy pumpkin pies

I'll 'I'Hivd supper after supper on the family table.

I

i: IVrhaps it was the nearness of Christmas that got him

11,mkinn, fis well. Complete with the annual program at the

' mom school, as well as the feast day, the Lord's birthday

I lii' most celebrated of all the holidays among the People,

in" dtiiilit because it centered around kith and kin. Second

1 lii Istiruis, observed January 6 known as Epiphany by

, ,ll)e was also a time for families to gather and eat and play

i mies indoors and out. Seemed to him every young man his

ii had already married and was expecting a baby come next

i H n me r. Even Adah had settled down and married Leah's

iMin Sam in the past few weeks. Dorcas, his younger sister, imiiiIcI follow in Adah's footsteps in another year or so, most hi-fly.

As it was, Gid would have to go through another long and

"Id winter wiftiout a mate to warm him, since the wedding ' .iNtm was all but past. If Leah would have him, they would " .lit till next autumn to marry.

These were a few of the reasons he felt urged to ask Leah

111 be his wife while they rode together in his open carriage i hi a courting Saturday night. A wistful winter night of nights,

hilly enough for a woolen lap robe and his protective arm .111nind his dear girl.

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What with all Smithy Gid's talk of plans to help his uncle butcher hogs next week, Leah hardly felt much in a romantic mood, yet she listened intently as he talked of sharpening knives and scouring the enormous iron kettle,

"There'll be plenty of youngsters there," he told her, "takin" turns working the sausage grinder, ya know."

She knew all right from her own childhood days. Several times Dat had allowed both her and Sadie to miss school for

a butchering day, saying the event was "mighty educational," so she'd had ample experience in just what butchering a hog entailed. Everything from heating the water to scalding in the black kettle situated in the washhouse, to hanging the carcasses up and, later on, squaring the middlings and trimming the hams and shoulders. Sadie had always said the stench was awful, and she didn't see why she had to watch when she much preferred to stay home with Mamma and cook or clean

or sew.

For Leah, the whole process was intriguing; she especially liked watching the men hoist up the large hams and shoul' ders, hanging them from the smokehouse crossbeams till they were completely cured and flavorful. Sometimes she'd chase after the younger girls, who collected the silken pigs' ears, and she giggled as the little boys took the tails for souvenirs of the day, pretending to fasten them to one Dawdi or another. Naturally for the women there was the fun of visiting and planning the next work frolic, while men talked of divvying up the meat, daydreaming, no doubt, about the tender sausages, tasty fried bacon, and home-cured baked-ham dinners their wives were sure to prepare.

Sadie said the best part was knowing the rendered lard169I CAeOacri/ice >'

WuuM make for yummy doughnuts. Thinking of that, just hiiw, helped put Leah in a sweeter mood as Gid slowed the

I1 r'n unit. I

I ''I've been thinkin' an awful lot." His tone was gentle as

|"iili| k\ "What would ya say 'bout becomin' my wife . . .

I Mini nt'xi year?"

I She'd honestly wondered if Gid might ask her tonight, but

I'I" luidn'f expected the important question to come on the

I

ll>' In dI' the hog-butchering talk. "We have been seein' a lot

In .ich other lately," she said.

I I le paused before continuing. "If you agree, we could

In 11 ry in late October next year. Be one of the first couples to

Ei i > ii ry during the wedding season."

I She was glad to be snug and warm under the lap robe, her

fill hkIn hidden from Gid's touch. That way his words and his

li'V did the talking, and his fingers couldn't cloud her think-

llnr, pulling pressure on her to say jah.

I "Would it be all right if we pray privately 'bout this? Ask

lilini^hty God to bless our union?"

I I le nodded, seemingly taken back a bit by the unexpected

July. "No need to hurry up with your answer," he was kind

Hbligh to say kind as he always had been for as long as

Hfe'd known him.

I It wasn't that she thought she needed time to consider

|l -id' as her husband-to-be, her betrothed. She honestly

I Idn't stop thinking about recent talks with Mamma, who

I led to want to speak to the Lord about most everything.

' " why not pray about her response to a possible mate?

I She assumed it best if she not say what was going through

Ilier mind. Clearly Gid was eager to move on now, discuss

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something else. She hoped he wasn't miffed. It was just that most couples who'd spent time courting this long would probably go walking in the woods somewhere, hand in hand, watch the moon from a high vantage point, then talk of their wedding day. She had no idea what she and Gid would talk about for the rest of the evening, now that she hadn't answered with a quick reply to his heartfelt question.

Settling back, she breathed in the fresh and crisp night air, glad Gid had simply begun to play his harmonica, sweet and low, surprising her with his unruffled repose. One tune after another, he played, seeming to her as a kind of loving serenade to a nervous sweetheart.

As he played, she thought back to all the years of his unwarranted faithfulness to her, years of uncertainty. Yet he'd responded with sheer loyalty, patiently waiting for her, and now he was asking her to be his wife, the mother of his children, making it possible for her to do that thing she was called to be and do. What Amish girl would refuse such a true and sincere gesture? Gid loved her immeasurably; she knew that beyond doubt.

A stir of affection for him welled up in her. When he stopped playing his cheerful tune, he clicked his cheek to send a signal to the horse to speed to a trot, and she brought her hand out into the cold air and touched his arm. "Gid, I don't need more time to think on your question."

He waited without speaking, eyes fixed on her.

"I would be ever so glad to be your wife." At that very moment she truly cherished her own words.

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11 nny l(inner blemishes had been evident on the rolling front Mil iiiul surrounding landscape of her father's house prior to

11 ii- I hick blanket of snow, the present winter scene was so l Miilhlakingly perfect that Leah found herself staring at the l I ormil ( "ottage as she made the turn into the lane leading to i L> him 1 yard and back door.