Love Still Stands (4 page)

Luke wanted the question back the second he uttered it. He had spent only a few days
in this part of the state, but it had seemed right for their needs. Reasonably priced
land in large enough tracts that they could subdivide for their sons and stay close
together. They could work hard and stay close to the earth and each other as God intended.

“There’s not a lot to do in these parts, in case you haven’t noticed.” Sheriff McCormack
looked grim. “The kids like to let off steam and sometimes they get carried away.
I only have eight deputies for three shifts and it’s a huge county. The best I can
offer is to stop by the high school and give the whole bunch of them a talking-to
about respecting private property.”

Not that it would do any good, his tone indicated.

“Thank you for coming by, Sheriff. We’re happy to meet you.” Luke forced the words
out. “We plan to be good neighbors. We don’t make much noise.”

“Not a problem.” Again, his tone said otherwise.

“We’ll be into town tomorrow for supplies. We’ll need propane, paint, wallpaper, plywood,
drywall, and cleaning supplies.” In other words, the town might benefit in some small
part from their business. “We’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Best behavior. You’re a funny man, Mr. Shirack.” Sheriff McCormack laughed outright.
“I’ll let my deputies know. The Amish folks are coming to town.”

Chapter 4

G
lancing at Emma Brennaman, who was sweeping the kitchen floor with great vigor, Bethel
steadied herself against the one remaining kitchen counter. She didn’t want Emma to
see her struggle to balance and clean at the same time. She propped one crutch against
the wall. That way she had at least one of her hands free to scrub the cabinets and
countertop. Once the trash and debris had been cleared away, the kitchen didn’t look
so bad. Luke would need to replace one stretch of the countertop. The men had spent
the previous evening examining the house room by room, boarding up the windows in
case it decided to rain, and making lists of the supplies they would need to make
the place livable. They all agreed it would take some doing, but it could be done.
With time and money—money they could ill afford to spend. Still, it would be less
expensive than tearing it down and starting over. So they went to work.

A night in sleeping bags under tents had tickled William and Joseph, but for her it
had been an agonizing experience. The pallet of blankets did little to soften the
ground under her and her back ached with a throbbing ferocity that kept her eyes open
most of the night. She could see why Leah had refused to do it, but not how she could
take a baby into a house before it had been made safe. Long before dawn, Bethel arose
to start work. No sense in tossing and turning any longer. Luke met her at the porch
steps, looking like he’d slept about as well as she had.

Now, several hours later, she was beginning to see a little progress. The men had
removed the old electric appliances in the kitchen to make way for the wood-burning
oven, propane-fueled refrigerator, and a second propane stove. The kitchen remained
a top priority so the women could cook for the men who swarmed the place, rebuilding
the living room walls, replacing windows, and painting both the interior and the exterior.
Dawn seemed days ago. She suppressed a sigh, not wanting Emma to notice her flagging
strength. The medication her doctor prescribed for the pain seemed to be flagging
as well.

If Emma noticed her white-knuckled grip on the lone crutch, she didn’t say anything.
She swept the floor so vigorously dust billowed up around her long dress. Bethel coughed,
put her hand to her mouth, and immediately felt her leg buckle under her. Emma dropped
the broom and grabbed her before she hit the floor.

“Sorry!” they exclaimed at the same time.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Emma helped Bethel ease onto one of the four chairs
the boys had carried into the kitchen after Thomas and Luke carted in a table. “It’s
not like you’ve done something wrong. Surely you know that.”

“I’m sorry to be a burden, I guess.”

“You’re doing fine. Considering how badly you were hurt, it’s amazing you’re standing
upright so soon after…” Emma’s voice trailed away and her cheeks turned pink. “I mean
the doctors said it would take months for you to get back on your feet and here you
are only six weeks later. Thanks be to God.”

“Patience has never been my strong suit.”

“Yes, it is. You’re a teacher.” Emma had been one too before her marriage to Thomas.
She knew about teaching twenty or more children ranging in age from six to fifteen
in a single room. “A good one. Eli and Rebecca loved—love you.”

“I
was
a teacher.”

Emma picked up the broom again. “You will be again. I know you will.”

“I pray I will. I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t teach.”

“You’ll do other things.” Emma was nothing if not optimistic. “You’ll be a fraa and
a
mudder
, of course.”

The words dropped around Bethel like a glass vase on a hardwood floor, the shards
piercing her bare feet. Emma couldn’t know how painful they were. Bethel tried to
smooth her expression.

“The doctors…” Emma faltered as if looking for soft words. “What do they say?”

“They say I might regain the use of my legs, but they’re not sure. What man would
want a fraa who can’t cook and clean and work in the garden and mow the yard and climb
a flight of stairs to check on a sick child?”

Bethel stopped. Her breathing came hard. She’d kept the words bottled up for so long,
they fairly poured out like a spigot turned full force.

Emma patted Bethel’s hand. “I’ll pray for God’s will for you. You’ll see. He has a
wonderful plan for you. One way or another.”

One way or another.

“You look tuckered out, teacher.” Deborah Daugherty stood in the doorway, a box labeled
Pots
in her arms. “There’s lots of us here and we’ll have this place put together in a
jiffy. We’ll be cooking up a good supper before you know it. No more cold sandwiches
for any of us.”

“I’m fine.” Bethel bit back the words. Deborah had no way of knowing. She was only
eighteen, healthy, her cheeks pink, her back strong. She had no idea what it felt
like to be a burden to anyone. “Thank you for helping. I know you have plenty of work
to do at your own houses.”

“Helping hands make everything go quicker.” Emma picked up the broom. “And after that
long drive yesterday, it feels good to move around. Circulate the blood. I sure got
tired of sitting. All I did was eat. We ate all of Annie’s brownies, so I’m looking
forward to firing up the ovens and making a new batch. I’m sure you are too.”

Bethel struggled to her feet and leaned her weight against the cabinet. She lowered
her head and focused on scrubbing the countertop with a rag soaked in bleach water.
Emma didn’t need to know Leah had yet to let Bethel near an oven since her release
from the hospital after nearly a month. She seemed to think Bethel would fall in or
burn down the kitchen. “Put that box here, Deborah. I’ve already cleaned the cabinets
along the bottom. We can put the pots there and save the top shelves for the plates
and glasses.”

Deborah plopped down the box. She slapped both hands on the counter as if she were
holding herself up too. Her lips quivered. Bethel paused in her effort to rip the
clear plastic packing tape from the top of the box. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s silly. I try so hard to be strong. Mudder says we all have to be strong.”

“You miss home?”

“It’s only been two days, but I can hardly bear it.” Her shoulders heaved as she tried
to stifle her sobs. “Don’t you miss Annie and Miriam and Helen and Josiah? And all
the others?”

“I do.” Emma set her broom aside and joined them at the counter. “But we’ll see them
again when we go back for Helen and Gabriel’s wedding. And at Christmas. They’re less
than a half day’s drive away. It gives us something to look forward to.”

For Emma the glass was always half full. Bethel loved that about her.

“I know. I know. But I can’t stop crying.” Deborah dabbed at her face with her apron.
“Mudder says I can’t let the little ones see, but they don’t care. To them it’s a
big adventure.”

Bethel thought of Luke’s grin in the van the previous day. She too saw adventure here.
She saw possibilities. The things that hadn’t worked out in Bliss Creek didn’t matter.
Deborah was too young to understand about missed opportunities and new beginnings.

Giving herself time to find the words to explain, Bethel struggled to lift a pitcher
of lemonade at the far end of the counter. She knew from experience that a good swallow
of cold liquid helped drown unwanted sobs and ease a throat that ached to let them
out.

Emma tugged the pitcher from her grip and poured for all three of them.

“It’s not a big adventure to you, I take it.” Bethel focused on Deborah, who had been
one of her students her first year as a teacher. She’d been a sweet, obedient girl
with a knack for numbers. “Why didn’t you want to move?”

“I don’t mind. Really, I don’t.” Deborah scooped up her apron and held it to her face,
mopping up the tears. “It’s just…there’s…well, there’s…”

“A man,” Emma finished for her. “You have a beau.”

“Had. I had a beau. Abel Wagler.” The apron muffled the words. “He says he’ll come
here when he can, but his daed needs him on his farm and he won’t let him come. Not
yet, anyway. We were baptized in September and I thought we might get married, if
not this November, the next.”

“Abel’s a handsome man.” Emma smiled and Bethel knew she intended to cheer up Deborah.
“All that curly red hair.”

Deborah let the apron drop. “He is, isn’t he?” She sniffed and managed a watery smile
in return. “He’s a hard worker too, and kind, and he listens to me when I talk.”

“I taught Abel. He’s a good young man.” Bethel leaned against the counter so she could
squeeze Deborah’s shoulder. “It’ll work out. It always does. Maybe not the way you
thought it would, but it does work out.”

Deborah nodded, but she looked dubious. It hadn’t worked out for Bethel. At least
that’s what people in their community thought. That’s what Leah thought. And their
mudder and daed. She hadn’t married. She didn’t know why, but she’d been content teaching.
Now that dream had been taken from her too.

“Doesn’t look like much work is getting done in here.”

Leah’s entrance saved Bethel from having to respond to Deborah’s unasked question.
Her sister carried another box, this one marked
Dishes
. There were dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes, and she looked exhausted. Her
kapp had slid back a little. She might have cobwebs or dust in her hair. She set the
box on the table with great care. “I don’t know why I’m being so careful with this.
I reckon the ride on that dirt road broke half the plates.”

“I reckon we’ll know when we get it open.” Emma’s smile took the edge from her words.
She’d lived with Leah for a while before her marriage to Thomas. She knew how to handle
her sister-in-law’s moods. “I unpacked several of ours last night and they were fine.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Leah’s nose wrinkled like she’d bitten into a tart Granny Smith
apple. “You wouldn’t believe what I found in the cellar. I wanted to have the boys
carry down our canned goods and it turns out most of the shelves are full.”

“Full of what?” Bethel asked, surprised. They had a dozen boxes filled with fruits
and vegetables canned with the intent of getting them through the winter to the growing
season when they’d be able to plant their vegetable garden. “Do we need to clean it
out first?”

“The family who lived here before left behind their canned goods. Perfectly fine jars
of tomatoes and green beans and pickles. I think I saw peaches and strawberry preserves.”

“Why would they do that?”

“They were older folks, Englischers. Going into a home, Luke said.”

“That’s sad.” Bethel didn’t mean to judge, but she liked their way of caring for older
folks much better. That’s what a
groossdaadi haus
was for. “They had no one who wanted their things?”

“Guess not. There are even boxes of Mason jars that have never been used.”

“Well, we’ll put them to good use then,” said Bethel. Leah sniffed. Something about
her expression said she wasn’t so sure Bethel would be all that useful when it came
to canning. She was wrong. Bethel could sit and chop up cucumbers and onions for pickles
as well as the next person. She could snap green beans and pit cherries. She didn’t
need her legs for that. “Besides, we have plenty of canned goods to get us through—”

“It doesn’t take three people to unpack dishes. You best get that downstairs bedroom
cleaned up.” Leah broke in as if she didn’t hear Bethel talking. “They’re almost done
painting it. You’ll be sleeping there.”

Of course she would, since it would take her too long to climb the stairs to the bedrooms
on the second floor. Which meant she’d be little help with the babies at night. “I’ll
sweep the floor and wipe down the floorboards and windowsills. If the boys can carry
in the frame and the mattress I can make up the bed.”