Amish Circle Letters (18 page)

Silence.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he stated.

Now that he had their attention, he began to explain the options. Once again, Rachel felt as if this man was speaking a foreign language. She didn’t understand any of what he was saying. In fact, before a few hours ago, she had never known this man. Yet now she was forced to entrust her husband’s life in his hands?

Menno stopped the mules and watched as Mary Ruth walked up the incline, the basket of food hooked over her arm. Her feet were bare and dirty, as was the bottom of her dress. She had been washing the floors before the children returned home. She wore a thin blue scarf on her head, not having wanted to soil her prayer kapp while she worked. Stray strands of brown hair clung to the back of her neck, which was as tan as her arms from working in the sun on Menno’s garden.

She could feel his eyes on her, staring at her and, for just the briefest of moments, she felt uncomfortable. Why was he staring at her like that, she wondered. He hadn’t paid her much attention at all since she had begun helping with the children, although he had offered to take her and Melvin over to the Miller’s farm the previous weekend to meet up with Katie and Eleanor.

“Menno?” she asked, breaking his trance. “You feeling all right?”

He blinked once, still staring at her. The silence was awkward as was the expression on his face. She noticed that the color drained from his cheeks and his eyes, still so sad from remembering the loss of his wife, looked dull and lifeless. But the anger was gone from him and for that, she was thankful.

“Nee, nee,” he said, quickly averting his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he added quietly.

“For what?” she asked, lifting the basket and placing it on the side of the cutter.

“Staring,” he admitted guiltily.

“Oh.”

He glanced at the basket. For a moment, the mask of sadness lifted from his face. Holding the reins in one hand, he lifted the edge of the cloth that covered the food. She didn’t have to look to know what he saw: fried chicken, coleslaw, and boiled potatoes with a thermos of meadow tea made fresh, just that morning. “
Danke
, Mary Ruth,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she responded. He looked at her again and, for the briefest of moments, she felt a flutter inside of her chest as if her heart had skipped a beat and her blood raced through her veins. She didn’t like how he was staring at her and wondered what he was thinking. But then, she thought, it might be better to not know. There was nothing left to say so she turned, intending to head back to the house and away from those eyes.

“You reminded me of her just then.”

His words stopped her feet from moving. It was the way his voice cracked when he said it. There was a clear sound of desperation in his tone, a sadness that she had never heard before that day. The realization hit her that, despite almost two months having passed, there was a depth of loss in this man’s life. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he felt and how hard he was struggling with healing.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Menno,” was all that she could think to say. What else was there
to
say? “It’s barely been two months, ja?”

“It feels like longer,” he whispered.

She wasn’t certain how to respond.

“I don’t remember what she looks like,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers once again. His blue eyes mirrored the sadness that was in his voice. “I had forgotten, you see. And I feel guilty about that.”

“Menno…” She wanted to tell him that it was normal, memories were bound to fade. It was part of the healing process to move on with one’s life and leave the past behind. However, she knew that thinking it and doing it were two very different ends of the spectrum. Without having walked in his shoes, she couldn’t form the words to try to comfort him. It was a journey that he would have to take on his own.

“But just now,” he said, his face lighting up for just a split second. “The way you looked…it reminded me of her.”

Again, she remained silent. There was nothing to say in response to his words.

That moment of joy on his face disappeared and his shoulders sagged as he glanced across the field. Taking off his straw hat, he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. He had done a lot of work so far that day but he had plenty more to do. He had been at work before she had arrived that morning. She knew from experience that it was hard, tiring work, the kind of work that made a body and soul weary.

“I can’t do this alone,” he said in a matter of fact tone.

She took a step toward him. “You have no choice,” she said gently.

“I don’t want to do this alone,” he retorted.

She sighed. Alone. A terrible word. “You aren’t alone. You have the
kinner
. They can help.”

“You help.”

She laughed despite herself. “I can’t stay here forever!” She missed home and her mamm and Anna with her
kinner
. She wanted to enjoy some free time, time without caring for others and indulge in a little bit of time with someone caring for her. The comfort of home couldn’t be replicated, that was something she had learned during the past weeks.

Menno took a deep breath and stared at her, silent for just a moment. If she wondered what was floating through his mind, she never would have imagined the words that he would speak next. She knew that he was lonely. She knew that he was missing his wife. No man should lose his soul mate in such a tragic manner and, even worse, at such a young age. But she also knew that she had to move on. Once the children were in school, she wanted to return home and to her own life, despite the fact that she could barely remember what her own life looked like.

He was staring at her again. The sadness had vanished from his eyes, replaced with something else that startled her. She couldn’t place the emotion that she saw there. It was as if something had switched inside of him, something powerful strong…an idea that gave him hope.

“You can stay here,” he said.

You can stay here.
The words echoed in her head. She had to repeat them not certain that she had heard him properly. Stay there? At his farm? Whatever was he talking about?

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” she asked, frowning as she repeated, once again, the words that he had spoken:
You can stay here
. He was ferhoodled, dumbstruck with grief, she told herself and took a step backward. Her heart raced and she wondered if he had slipped over an edge into madness.

And then, he cleared his throat and said four words that nearly knocked her off of her feet.

“You can marry me.”

This time, she didn’t have to ask him to repeat his words. From the way that he was staring at her, she knew that she had heard him properly. There was a look of serenity and peace in his expression, as if his statement had made perfect sense and was completely logical. Perhaps it did…to him. But Mary Ruth couldn’t stop her heart from beating inside of her chest. She was shocked at his offer, stunned into speechlessness. There were no words to express what she was feeling at that moment.

“Mary Ruth,” he said quickly, wrapping the reins from the mules onto the side of the cutter so that they couldn’t move. He jumped down and rushed toward her. “Yes, you can stay here but as my
fraa
,” he said calmly, reaching out with a hesitant hand to touch her arm.

The feeling of his fingers on her skin caused her to jump. No one had ever touched her before, not like that. She moved away from him, staring into his face.
Has he lost his mind
, she asked herself. Clearly. “Menno, I…” she started to respond but the words wouldn’t form on her lips. “You must have been in the sun too long,” she said softly. She didn’t want him to feel embarrassed yet she was having a hard time processing the fact that he appeared serious about what he had said. “You aren’t thinking proper.”

He shook his head. “Nee, you’re wrong. I’m thinking just right, Mary Ruth,” he stated firmly. There was a glow in his eye, one that spoke of the dawning of a new idea. “The
kinner
need a mamm, I need a
fraa
.”

This time, she frowned, hurt at his words. “I’m not marrying anyone to fill a job opening!” The words came out harsher than she intended. But she was angry. For almost two months, she had been tossed into the lives of the Yoder family, dealing with his angry words and criticism. She had grown attached to the children, that was true, but to have such an insult from their father? It was too great a burden.

Menno shook his head, still holding her arm gently. “Don’t take it that way, Mary Ruth. That’s not exactly what I meant,” he gushed. “I mean that we all need you. In time, you and I will grow fond of each other, I’m sure of that.”

“Fond?” She yanked her arm free from his touch. “
Fond
of each other?” The word sounded so harmless yet tasted dirty when she repeated it. She had never been so insulted in her life and, to make matters worse, it was over a marriage proposal! She started to walk backwards down the hill, backing away from him. “You enjoy your dinner, Menno Yoder. And drink plenty of that tea. I think the sun has warped your sense of thinking today,” she said then turned and hurried away from him, fighting the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes.

Lovina sat at the table, listening to Rachel as she talked about the cancer. Lovina had hired a driver to bring her to her sister’s house. Lizzie, Sylvia, and Leah were there, too. The only one missing was Anna who had volunteered to stay at Leah’s and keep the children occupied while the Fisher sisters’ talked.

She had thought they were having a sister meeting, fellowship over a nice noon meal. But dinner was on the counter, including her homemade potato filling that she had baked that morning. No one was hungry anymore.

“Chemotherapy?”

The way that Lovina said it sounded even scarier. It was a big word, one that they didn’t use in every day dialogue. And to have it associated with lung cancer was almost unheard of in their small community. Amish men simply did not get lung cancer for the simple reason that Amish men didn’t smoke.

But the doctor had gone over the results and showed them the statistics. People who didn’t smoke did get lung cancer. And Elijah Zook was one of them.

Rachel shut her eyes, wishing away the day. Everything felt surreal, as if it wasn’t happening, not in her world. Perhaps, she thought, this is just a bad dream. But wishful thinking wouldn’t make reality go away. She had to be strong and to face the future, both the immediate and the long-term. Denying the truth would not get her husband’s cured.

“Elijah says that he won’t do it,” she said softly.

There was a collective gasp around the table.

“Without it, he’ll die!” Leah exclaimed.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Lizzie snapped. “Do you always have to be so direct?”

“Please stop,” Rachel said, rubbing her forehead. “I can’t hear you two bicker today.”

“What about alternative treatments?” Lovina offered. “One of my neighbors is getting treatment from some man in New Mexico. He’s mailing her herbs and oils.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “That’s powwow medicine, Lovina. We all know it don’t work!”

“That’s not true!” Lovina snapped back at her sister. “She’s doing just fine.”

Rachel slapped her hand on the side of the table. “That’s not helping!” Her voice was loud and sharp, bringing silence back to the room. “I have a serious problem here, Lovina. Elijah has no energy and is not willing to do chemotherapy. This is serious, and powwow medicine is not the answer. Can you please, for once, stay focused?”

As always, Sylvia came to the rescue. She reached out her hand and placed it over Rachel’s. With a soft voice, she asked, “What will you do?”

A simple question with no simple answer. It was clear that, without treatment, Elijah would die. Rachel understood his reluctance to undergo chemotherapy. It was worldly medicine with a lot of negative side effects. But giving up wasn’t the answer either. Somehow, Rachel thought, we have to convince him to get treatment.

“He needs to get treatment,” she said in response to Sylvia. “Without it, he’ll die and I can’t do this on my own.” She lowered her eyes, fighting the tears. “I can’t do this without him,” she whispered.

Katie ran through the Yoder’s field. Anna had given her permission to visit the Miller’s so that Katie could groom Butterscotch. As she approached the farmhouse, Katie slowed down, catching her breath. She wanted to stop into the Yoder’s to see if Melvin wanted to walk over to the Miller’s with her so that he could help with the grooming.

To her surprise, she found him standing on the front porch, staring at the field. The expression on his face was blank and Katie could tell that he was deep in thought.

“Melvin? You OK?”

He shook his head at the sound of her voice and turned to face her. “Katie Fisher . I’m surprised to see you here today,” he said, his voice flat.

Standing at the bottom of the steps, she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged and thrust his hands into his front pockets. “Ain’t sure,” he replied.

That didn’t make sense to Katie one bit.

“Well, something had to happen to make you stand out here and look so gloomy.”

Again, he shrugged, but after a hesitation, he pointed over his shoulder. “It’s Mary Ruth,” he said. “She’s crying.”

She frowned. That also made no sense to her. Mary Ruth was one of the strongest people she knew and not prone to tears. In fact, Katie couldn’t remember ever having seen Mary Ruth cry at all. “My aendi?”

“Ja,” Melvin said, nodding his head once. “For about fifteen minutes or so.”

Slowly, she climbed the steps. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “But I reckon my daed said something to her. Bet she stops coming here now. It’ll be like losing my mamm all over again.”

The thought horrified Katie. How could he possibly compare Mary Ruth’s leaving to his own mamm’s death? “Well, she has to come home at some point, ain’t so?”