Snowfall (6 page)

Only with effort did Lovina keep her expression neutral.

Aaron frowned. “Who's Ruth?”

“She's that dark-haired girl I told you about,” Lovina muttered to her husband under her breath.

“Gosh, I haven't seen Ruth in ages,” Roman said. Turning to his wife, he said, “Ruth has kind of a sad story. For whatever reason, she was raised in various relatives' homes for most of her life. Now she lives on her own in downtown Berlin.”

Amanda set her napkin down. “She's not married yet?”

“No. She's kind of an awkward gal. Not in a bad way, just a little strange.”

Looking concerned and a little confused, Amanda said, “Are you close to her, Lorene?”

“Not so much. The only reason I'm sharing her news is that I heard
someone
encouraged her to go help out Martin Rhodes and his brood of children.”

Lovina struggled to remain impassive as Lorene glanced her way.

John visibly winced. “Heaven help her. Martin brought all six of them into the furniture store two months ago. I thought we were going to have to close the shop in order to clean it up. They are wild children.”

Elsie grinned. “Rambunctious, for sure. I watched over them for an afternoon last year when Martin had to attend a meeting downtown. Somehow they managed to spill punch all over the kitchen floor and track mud through the rest of the house.” She grimaced. “And all over one of the couches.”

“Which was probably why they were shopping for a new one,” John quipped.

Marie grimaced. “Oh, Elsie.”

Elsie shrugged. “I felt bad, especially because Martin wasn't real pleased with me about the state of his house, but what could I do? After one hour I started leaning toward self-preservation.”

“Now they have a dog,” Lovina said, unable to help herself. “Its name is Frank.”

Lorene chuckled. “Well, of course they do. It's not like a dog is going to make a difference in their home.”

John smiled. “I'm still not quite sure how either the Rhodes
kinner
or Ruth's new job is our concern. But that said, I'll be sure and keep them in my prayers tonight.”

“I'm sorry,” Lorene said slowly, with a new, piercing look directed at Lovina. “I forgot to tell you all the rest of the story.”

“Which is?”

“Folks seem pretty sure that Ruth took this job at Mamm's urging.”

Elsie's brows went up. “Mamm?”

“Mine?” Marie asked.

“Not you, Marie. My
mamm
.”

Lovina squirmed as everyone at the table turned to her.

Peter's eyebrows snapped together. “Why, Mamm? Why on earth would you decide that sweet Ruth Stutzman needed to spend the month of December with the Rhodes children?”

“I don't appreciate your tone, Peter.”

“I'm sure you don't. But is what Lorene said true? Did you arrange this?”

“Maybe.”

“Ach, Lovina,” her husband murmured. “You told me that you were going to help Martin for a few days.”

“I tried, but I couldn't do it.”

“Mommi
was
fairly rattled when I picked her up,” Roman said.

But instead of looking concerned, her husband's voice became even quieter. “Lovina, why on earth did you coerce Ruth to go over there?”

“Coerce is putting it a bit harsh.”

“Cajole?” Peter asked.

“Manipulate?” Lorene murmured.

Looking amused, Elsie raised her brows. “Wheedle?”

Lovina hadn't blushed in ages but she definitely felt her cheeks heat. “Ruth is a young girl. She needed a job. Besides, her talents were wasted in that old folk's home. As are her charms. She's a pretty girl, you know. And she's got a good heart, too.”

Roman reached for the plate of rolls and placed another on his plate. “Mommi, I happen to think that any children, rowdy or not, would probably be much happier with someone besides you.” Before she could comment on that, he continued. “But why would the situation be right for Ruth?” He waited two beats, then whistled low. “You aren't really thinking of matchmaking, are you?”

“Roman, just because you are a preacher now, it don't mean you have all the answers.”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “I know I don't. Only the Lord has all the answers. But . . . I have a feeling that I might be right about this.”

“Just for the record, I might be right about this, too,” Lovina said. “Martin Rhodes needs a new wife, the
kinner
need someone to keep them in line, and Ruth needs to start living.” When she paused dramatically for emphasis, everyone at the table started laughing.

“What?”

Lorene shook her head. “You know what, Mamm.”

“I know I'm right about this,” she repeated. “Why, I bet by Christmas they'll wonder how they ever lived apart.”

Lorene sighed. “I hope you're right, Mamm. Because if they don't find peace and happiness, they will probably blame every bit of their problems on you.”

Lovina opened her mouth, tried to think of a quick retort. But all she could think to say was, “Pass the rolls over here, Roman. They turned out
gut
tonight.”

Mamm used to say we were wonderful-gut kinner. Especially when we were sleeping.

Katrina, Age 9

Feeling like she'd just had the longest, most confusing day ever, Ruth slipped her key into the door of her apartment sometime around seven o'clock, stepped inside, and grinned broadly. “I made it!” she said into the silence.

And though, of course, no one answered her, she had never been so happy to be in her little home.

“Home” was actually a one-room apartment on the outskirts of Berlin. Years ago someone had decided to convert an old bank building into three apartments. That meant half her walls were made of red brick and the ceilings were high.

When her landlord bought the building, he made further improvements. Each unit had a pretty fireplace lined in red brick, a kitchen large enough for two people to cook side by side, and a nice, modern shower in the bathroom.

When she'd moved in, she'd painted the walls the palest shade of pink. It was so pale that most visitors didn't realize they were standing in the midst of so much pink. But at night, when there was a fire in the fireplace and a candle burning, a warm, rosy glow illuminated the room. She thought it was beautiful.

She'd continued the pink theme by sewing a daffodils quilt, with each daffodil made up of a different shade of pink, rose, or red. Her couch was white, as were her kitchen towels, shades, and the cushions on her rocker.

It was completely feminine and pretty and clean. Ruth had always secretly believed that it was a good representation of the life she'd always wanted to have.

Especially when she was a child. Years ago, when she'd been shuffled from one extended family member to the next, she'd often dreamed of being given a beautiful, clean room all for herself. That had never happened.

Sometimes she'd been given a real bed, placed in the corner of someone's room. Once she was simply given the couch. Everyone had done the best they could, but no matter where she was, she'd never forgotten that these relatives were only being charitable. With both her parents gone and her grandparents in poor health, she'd been forced to live with distant cousins, aunts, and—for one awful year—one of her second cousins-in-law.

When she'd turned sixteen she'd gotten work as a caregiver for an elderly lady who'd grown up Mennonite. Though she was firmly living in the English world, Jean had yearned to be around someone who spoke Pennsylvania Dutch and reminded her of the way she'd grown up.

When Ruth learned that she would be getting a generous salary, plus a little apartment in the back of the house, she'd jumped at the chance.

It had been the right decision. She'd loved living with Jean and had lived with her for four years, until Jean's health became such that her daughters moved her closer to them.

Those four years had been transformative. For the first time in her life, Ruth hadn't had to move every ten or twelve months. She'd had her own space and she lived with someone who was truly happy to see her each day.

During those four years, she'd become a friend instead of a burden. A source of happiness instead of an unwanted responsibility.

She'd saved most of her pay and used it on this apartment. From the time she'd moved in, she'd felt that it was the most perfect place in the world. She could be herself here. She didn't have to worry about pleasing other people or staying out of their way.

She could relax and be happy and simply enjoy being in her own little apartment.

And she usually did.

Until tonight.

Now it simply felt lonely and too quiet.

Walking into the kitchen, she opened a can of soup and made herself a ham sandwich. And then she pulled out her newest library book and read a chapter while eating her supper.

She was reading, wishing the time would go by faster . . . until she remembered that the Rhodes
kinner
were going to be eagerly awaiting that hamper.

Suddenly, she wasn't quite so alone. She wasn't quite so lonely. She had things to do.

So as soon as she finished, she rushed to her scrap bag and got organized.

It was late. After midnight, at least.

Martin stretched his legs, shifted, and stretched again. Then at last gave up his goal of trying to get comfortable and got to his feet.

But he still was not in any hurry to walk to his bedroom at the back of the house.

When Grace had been alive, he'd procrastinated going to bed, too. But of course that had been for a very different reason. Grace had been a bed hog. He'd used to tease her, saying that no man had ever made a mattress big enough for her slim, five-foot-two-inch frame. She'd taken quite an exception to that, of course.

But she'd never denied it. Grace had never met a middle of a bed that she didn't try to claim in her sleep.

He used to brace himself whenever he got in bed to sleep beside her. She hated to scoot over and never did it willingly. He'd finally sigh and curve an arm around her and fall asleep, deciding he'd rather rest than attempt to carve out another foot of space.

Grace had laughed about that, of course. And, in some of her more joyful moments, she used to tease him that all that cuddling was why they had six children in just about as many years.

Now that she was gone, he avoided that bed because the opposite was now true. He had altogether too much space.

He also wished he could take back all the complaints he'd uttered to her. And complain, he had. Maybe it had been the stress of owning the tree farm, or the fact that for just about seven years straight he'd never had a full night's sleep. Whatever the reason, he had often been short-tempered. Sometimes overly critical.

And now he had to live with all those regrets.

“Daed?” Katrina asked as she padded down the stairs. “What are you doing up?”

His eldest daughter really was nine going on thirty. “Nothing. What are you doing up? You are supposed to be asleep.”

“I know.” Her eyes flickered over to him before padding into the kitchen. “I got thirsty.”

“Ah.” He followed her into the kitchen, leaning against the doorjamb as she got on her tiptoes, pulled a glass off the shelf, and then poured herself some water.

It was dark. Only the dim glow of the moon, the dying embers in the fireplace, and the candle he'd lit illuminated them. But in spite of that obstacle, Katrina didn't seem to be having much of a problem seeing to her needs.

Which made him think that maybe she'd done this before.

“Do you do this often? Come down to get water?”

After swallowing, she set the glass down in the middle of the stainless steel sink. Then she nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Maybe you should keep a glass of water nearby when you go to bed?”

“Maybe. But I like coming down here.”

“And why is that?”

“Gives me something to do when I can't sleep.”

He ached to ask her about why she couldn't sleep, but he decided to let that wait for another day.

“Can you sleep, Daddy?”

“
Nee
. Not tonight, at least.” He held his breath, mentally preparing himself to hear her ask about Grace. Mentally preparing himself to speak about Grace.

“Ruth is coming tomorrow, right?”

“
Jah
,” he blurted. “I mean, I think she is.”

“I hope so.”

“Did you like her that much?” Martin was surprised Ruth had made such an impression.

But then he realized that he'd hardly talked about anything to the
kinner
at supper. They'd eaten that taco casserole with varying degrees of bliss, and then he'd washed the dishes with Gregory, which meant that he pretty much washed the dishes all by himself.

After that, the
kinner
went upstairs to take baths and get ready for bed. He'd eaten three of Ruth's cookies before slowly making his way upstairs to help Meg and the twins.

Never once had he thought to ask the children how their day had been. Not really.

But now that he had, Katrina was giving his question some thoughtful consideration. “I liked her a whole lot better than Miss Lovina.”

“I don't think you're the only one to feel that way.”

“I liked Ruth's book.”

“I did, too. Well, what I heard of it.”

“And I liked her taco dinner. And the cookies, too.”

“Both were delicious, that is true.”

“And I want to know what is in her hamper.”

“What's so special about that?”

“She first asked us what we wanted to do with her. When we all said we didn't want to do anything, she said that was fine. So she wasn't going to show us what she brought.”