Huckleberry Christmas (19 page)

Isaac offered to carry Toby into the dawdi house. He had fallen asleep as they’d passed through Walkerton, and Beth didn’t have the heart to wake him. His schedule would be completely messed up, but the poor little boy hadn’t slept a wink the whole day. Unlike most babies, Toby seldom slept in the car. He’d fussed all day, and Beth had worked very hard to keep him happy while they traveled. She fed him crackers and cheese and read him books. Three hours into the trip, the driver had stopped at a convenience store, and they had bought Toby a slushy. Drinking through a straw had kept him happy for almost twenty minutes.

In spite of Toby’s agitation, Isaac remained calm throughout the entire six-hour car trip. Beth tried not to let her surprise show on her face. She’d never seen Isaac so eager to please and so slow to anger. She knew what he wanted from her, but in the past he hadn’t had the good sense to realize that he could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

She didn’t expect his good behavior to endure for long, but she would enjoy it while it lasted.

Beth opened the door to the dawdi house, and Isaac carried Toby up the stairs to the nursery, where his crib sat in the same place by the window. Isaac laid him in the crib, and Beth tucked a thick blanket around his chin.

“I’ll go fire up the stove,” Isaac whispered. He tiptoed down the stairs.

Feeling like a stranger in an unfamiliar place, Beth took her bag to her old room and laid it on the bed. She opened the nightstand drawer and found the matches where she’d always kept them. Even though it was only four in the afternoon, she lit the lantern on the nightstand and the other one sitting on the bureau drawer. On this overcast day, she needed some bright light to help cheer her up.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she sat on the bed that used to be hers and looked around the room. Nothing had been moved since she had left, as if they’d been expecting her return.

She shivered. Even though Mammi had tried to talk her out of coming, Beth still felt right about being here. God wanted her here for a reason. She only hoped she would be strong enough to do whatever He required of her. This whole trust-in-the-Lord thing had never been easy for her. Today, He seemed to be making it extra difficult in order to test her resolve.

Isaac trudged up the stairs and came into her room. “Do you like it?”

Beth wasn’t sure what to say. The room looked exactly the same.

“I painted the walls blue,” he said, grinning with satisfaction. “Blue is your favorite color. I wanted you to be happy to be back.”

Beth hadn’t even noticed the walls—the only thing that had changed in her absence. “Denki. They look very nice.”

“I left the quilt on the bed. The one you made. It looks real pretty next to the blue walls.”

“Jah.”

Isaac stared at her while shifting his weight from one foot to the other. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he said, “You probably want to unpack and such. I’ll go and tell Mamm you’re home. When you’re ready, walk right into the house. Don’t even knock or nothing.”

Beth took a deep breath and nodded. As much as she disliked Isaac, she dreaded a reunion with Treva even more. Treva had the uncanny power to make Beth feel about three inches tall. She wondered if the driver was still here. Could she get him to take her back to Wisconsin?

A lump formed in her throat. Tyler had rejected her. Maybe God had brought her here to care for her mother-in-law, like Ruth had with Naomi, to truly give her life over to the service of another person. Was that the kind of sacrifice He required? She didn’t know if she was strong enough or humble enough to do it.

A muffled sob escaped her lips as she thought of what she had already lost. How could she have been so foolish? With her tiresome self-pity, she had pushed Tyler away every time he’d tried to get close. She’d scolded him, lectured him, yelled at him. Her stomach seized in pain. She had dealt him a harsh and undeserved blow when she’d accused him of being like Amos. It was a wonder he had stuck with her as long as he had.

He must have really loved her.

That thought gave her no comfort today. It only succeeded in magnifying her sense of loss and the oppressive feeling of despair. Tyler would have been the best husband a girl could ask for, and she had been too blind to see it.

She deserved every unkind word Treva would hurl at her. Her heart sank to her toes. Deserved or not, she dreaded facing her mother-in-law. As despondent as she felt about Tyler, one word from Treva might reduce her to tears.

She looked in on Toby before descending the stairs and crossing the five feet of porch between the dawdi house and the main house. Pausing at the door, she said another prayer and squared her shoulders. With the perspective of four months’ absence and Tyler’s encouragement, she resolved to let Treva’s criticisms slide off her like water off a duck’s back. How long her resolve would last was another question, but she determined to think of Tyler and do her best.

A scripture leaped into her mind.

She stood taller still. Heavenly Father did not want her to be a victim. He had given her power to change her circumstances, a brain to think it through, and His love to accomplish it. She never stood alone because God would never leave her.

She opened the door and the stale, sharp smell of aging accosted her nose. If she must stay here more than a day or two, she’d need to wipe down the rooms top to bottom.

With her legs elevated, Treva sat in the lumpy, ample recliner she seldom abandoned. Like a queen on her throne, she could direct all the household functions from that one place. She wore a kapp, but her disheveled salt-and-pepper hair escaped from underneath it as if she hadn’t tended to it for days. “Beth,” she said, frowning and motioning broadly with her arm. “Come in and shut the door. Do you want me to catch my death of cold? It’s bad enough I’ve got this cursed C disease. Do you want to kill me with a virus yet?”

Treva never gave voice to her cancer. She had this notion that if she called it “the C disease,” it didn’t have the power to hurt her.

Isaac sat on the threadbare sofa, his arm draped casually over the back. He smiled and winked at her, as if he were sure of his success in finally convincing her to be his wife. Beth bit her bottom lip and looked away. He’d persuaded her to come this far, hadn’t he?

She quickly crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her. Aside from the smell, the room was much as it always had been. The walls stood bare with no hint of Christmas anywhere except for a small, red candle glowing on the kitchen counter. The kitchen sat off to Beth’s left. Unlike in Mammi and Dawdi’s house, Treva’s kitchen had barely enough room for two people to work at the same time. The long counter made the small space seem like an animal pen.

With great effort, Beth kept the disgust from showing on her face. The floor of cream-colored linoleum squares looked unrecognizably filthy. Had it been mopped since Beth left four months ago? A mound of unwashed dishes sat in the sink as water from the leaky faucet dripped rhythmically onto one of Treva’s dirty dinner plates. Beth stiffened. How long had they been waiting for her to come back and take over the chores?

She took a deep breath, but not too deep—the smell would have made her gag—and told herself everything would be okay. God was tutoring her, teaching her through experience to trust Him.

But why did His lessons have to be so hard?

Treva waved her arm again. “Come over and let me take a look at you.”

Pushing back her reluctance, Beth marched to Treva’s chair and let her mother-in-law take stock of her.

“Doesn’t she look pretty, Mamm?” Isaac asked.

“Beth was always real pretty.”

Beth stared at Treva with wide eyes. Had she ever said a nice thing about Beth before?

Treva squinted, as if getting a better look. “Still too skinny, but your cheeks have a nice glow to them. Peaches-and-cream complexion, my dat used to call it.”

“Denki,” Beth murmured before she remembered her resolve to be brave. She sat on the folding chair next to the recliner and took Treva’s hand.

Treva reacted as if she’d eaten a whole lemon with a mug of vinegar, but she didn’t pull away.

“Isaac tells me the cancer has come back. What did the doctor say?” Beth asked, making her voice clear and confident, as if she were a person who could competently take charge of any situation.

Treva waved her hand in the air as if she were swatting a fly. “Oh, that doctor wants me to start chemo and then maybe surgery. I can’t hardly understand what he’s talking about. He looks like he’s fifteen years old.” Treva’s voice shook like that of a much older woman, and for the first time ever, Beth recognized the fear hiding behind her prickly exterior.

“Everything is going to be okay, Lord willing.”

Treva ripped her hand from Beth’s grasp. “What do you know about it? You didn’t even care to stay and look out for me, the mother of your dead husband. As if losing Amos wasn’t bad enough, you couldn’t wait to get away from your dying mother-in-law. You were always selfish like that. If I’d gotten more rest, it wouldn’t have come back.”

Her words found their mark, and Beth reeled as if she’d been smacked in the mouth. She told herself not to pay heed to Treva’s words, not to let the accusations have power over her, but guilt squeezed all the breath out of her.

Beth paused long enough to let the air seep back into her lungs.
Heavenly Father, what would You have me do?

That timid little girl crept back into her voice. “When do you start chemo?”

“He said to wait until after the New Year, but it doesn’t matter. My Christmas is ruined anyway.” She eyed Beth with disdain. “I had to do all the canning myself. You think that didn’t make things worse?”

Beth asked a question she already knew the answer to. “What about Susannah and Martha? And Priscilla? Surely they offered to help with the canning.”

Susannah, Martha, and Priscilla were Treva’s daughters, all married with families of their own. They seldom spared time for their mother. Isaac and Amos had always been her favorites.

Treva scowled. “They’re like strangers. I ain’t seen Priscilla for three weeks. Martha comes by to deliver eggs, and that’s it. They’re cut out of the same cloth as you. You never wrote once while you were away. Not once.”

The guilt tugged at Beth again, but she tried to let it pass like water through a colander. What was done was done. She studied the lines on Treva’s tortured face. Beth had no power to change the past. A determination grew inside her that she would not let the past hold her hostage or decide her future.

“Now that you’re here, I’ll stay off my feet. The doctor says I need my rest. Though I don’t know how I’ll get much rest with you in the kitchen. I’ve got to watch everything you do, or we’ll end up eating charred potatoes and burned bread for the rest of our lives.”

That sounded like such a long time.

Could Beth endure it? More importantly, could she ask Toby to endure it?

Treva clapped her hands together and came as close to a smile as she ever did. “Now, Isaac, go and wake my grandson. He’s the only thing I have left of Amos, and Beth hasn’t let me see him for four months.”

“He should sleep a little longer,” Beth said, “or he’ll be ornery the rest of the night.”

“It’ll mess up his whole schedule if you let him sleep. You do have him on a schedule, don’t you?” Treva shook her finger in Beth’s direction. “I won’t let you pamper my grandson like your mamm pampered you. If she’d been stricter, you would have learned how to cook and keep house, and the rest of us wouldn’t have to suffer for it. Isaac, go get Toby and I’ll play with him while Beth fixes dinner.”

Beth clenched her teeth until she felt like one of them might crack. She was willing to endure the abuse heaped upon her, but she would not allow Treva to think she had a right to raise her son, or even think she had a right to an opinion about how he was to be raised. Treva had raised Amos. Beth refused to let Toby turn out like his father.

“He’s dead tired,” she forced out, trying not to sound angry. “I’m going to let him sleep until five.”

Treva narrowed her eyes but did not argue. The resolve in Beth’s voice must have silenced her opposition.

“He was a real pain on the drive,” Isaac said. “He whined the whole way.”

Treva glanced at Beth with a smug twist to her lips. “So. You’ve spoiled him rotten. My children got the switch for whining.”

Surely Beth’s teeth would crack any minute now. She stared at Treva and bit her tongue on the words pushing against her throat. Neither Treva nor Isaac would be allowed to use the switch on her son. Ever.

“A real pain,” Isaac repeated. “I wished I’d had earplugs.”

“We didn’t have to come,” Beth said quietly.

Isaac clamped his mouth shut.

Beth sighed in resignation and stood. If Toby was to eat dinner, she would have to be the one to fix it. Treva wouldn’t expect anything else. And despite how Treva protested, Beth was an adequate cook. She’d never be as good as Moses’s wife, Lia, but she usually had more success than Mammi did. Most of what she made was edible. Her son would never go hungry, and that was all she cared about.