The Longing (16 page)
If Elias hadn’t arrived a few minutes later, Rosanna didn’t know what she might have done. Created a scene, perhaps? She wanted to think she would have kept her emotions in check. But oh, the powerful tug on her heart toward Eli and Rosie.
For now, though, Elias was folding up the single quilt and looking at her curiously, asking if she was any better than she’d been earlier this morning. He supported her elbow as they made their way over to the small window to pay the percentage owed the establishment.
Then, as they walked to the exit, she told him she’d seen Eli and Rosie, and he slipped his arm around her and said not a word. All the while, she hoped against hope they would
not
run into Kate and Lizzy and the babies, she was so wrung out with emotion.
Help me make it home in one piece.
Elias held her hand nearly all the way. The gentle sway of their old covered carriage lulled her into repose, and she leaned her head on her husband’s strong shoulder.
When they arrived home, she went to lie down and rest, and Elias tenderly tucked her into bed, looking mighty concerned as he sat on the bed next to her, stroking her arm.
In spite of feeling quite comfortable now, Rosanna could not erase the memory of the babies snuggled happily in Kate’s and Lizzy’s arms. And she knew, without a doubt, she could not consider “adopting” another woman’s wee one just now.
Maybe not ever.
Chris Yoder couldn’t wait to drive the back road leading to his Amish cousins’ spread of land. He liked the openness and the farm activity on both sides as Amish and English alike were busy moving sludge around in their barnyards, creating shallow ditches for runoff to accommodate the spring thaw. Chris recalled seeing David Yoder and his older sons do the same thing, years ago.
Recently Caleb had said their driving horses had begun to shed—another sign of spring. Chris found himself looking for such things more closely since coming out to help. While Caleb and Abe were usually around working somewhere, occasionally Gideon or Jonah would come for a few hours at a time, too. Thankfully, the other brothers took his helping in stride, though only Caleb really seemed comfortable talking with him.
When Chris pulled into the drive, he was surprised to see the bench wagon parked there. He couldn’t imagine David and Elizabeth hosting church this Sunday, not the way David had to be assisted. But then, he had no idea how this community operated. They seemingly continued to do the things they’d always done, even though the head of the family was so seriously injured. Really, the whole situation boggled his mind, this family subsisting without the help of an in-home nurse or therapist. When he’d talked with Caleb about his father’s desperate condition, Caleb had merely said it was their way.
“Life goes on, no matter.”
Shifting into Park, Chris turned off the ignition. When he looked up, he was shocked to see Caleb’s father being lifted out of the bench wagon on a makeshift stretcher lined with a narrow mattress and hoisted by the four brothers.
He hopped out of the car and caught up with them, walking slowly behind as the entourage lumbered toward the back door. Not wanting to interfere, he waited on the back stoop, puzzled by what he’d witnessed. When Leah opened the door and asked if he’d like to come inside, he told her he would wait there for Caleb.
“My brother might be a while yet.”
Until today, he had not been invited inside the house since he was a child. “I’ll wait, thanks,” he said. He’d gotten the impression from Caleb that it might be best if he didn’t stir up the waters.
Soon two older men with long brown beards emerged from the house, talking slowly in Pennsylvania Dutch. The men nodded their heads when they caught his eye but kept walking. He stood there awkwardly, overhearing snatches of someone talking rather loudly inside. Actually grumbling— then a holler—and he assumed Caleb’s father was having difficulty getting situated in his wheelchair again.
Quickly Chris moved out of earshot. Not knowing where to go to avoid catching private exchanges, he headed to the barn and watched the determined parade of cows as they moved into the milking parlor, amazed again at how each animal independently moved to its own stanchion.
While he waited, he wondered if maybe David Yoder had just returned from a doctor appointment.
Had to be.
And he instantly knew how he could help lessen such an ordeal for his father’s cousin, the poor man.
He heard voices and turned to see Abe and Caleb coming into the barn. Swiftly the brothers began to secure the stanchion bars into the locked position while the cows fed on hay.
Chris could have helped do that in their absence, but Caleb had said last week that the cows were still getting used to him, and Chris did not want to spook them.
He didn’t have to ask about his suspicions. Once Abe got to milking, Caleb mentioned how hard it was for his father to go to his weekly rehabilitation sessions in the bench wagon.
Right then Chris offered his dad’s van, the vehicle they used to make deliveries for the nursery, for the trips.
Caleb turned, stunned. “You’d do that?”
“Sure, why not? I can easily drive your father back and forth, as long as it’s after school hours. I know Dad won’t mind. I’ve already talked to both my parents about what I’m up to here.”
“Well, his next appointment’s set for Tuesday morning,” Caleb said. “I’ll see if it can be moved to the afternoon. I’m sure Daed’ll be willing to go with you—beats his other option all to pieces. He complained today he’d never go back if he had to lie on that stiff board again.”
“Do you think you could make a ramp for his wheelchair?” Chris suggested.
“Good thinkin’. We’ll look into it.” Caleb nodded. “ ’Tween you and me, it pains me to see my father suffer so. Denki, Chris.”
Caleb’s eyes held a mix of pain and gratitude.
I hope I’m helping to ease the stress around here—not adding more,
Chris thought, wondering what else he could do without infringing on his cousin’s life.
All afternoon, Mamma kept talking about scurrying off to see Martha, hoping to also run into Rhoda, but she was still there working in the bakery shop near closing time. Nellie, presently waiting on customers, was eager to talk privately with Nan, if Mamma
did
actually leave. Either that, or Nellie would have to wait till evening. She and Nan had enjoyed several nighttime discussions about scripture while curled up on Nan’s bed. Together they’d nearly memorized the first five chapters of the gospel of John.
Moving toward the door, Mamma said a quick good-bye and hurried toward Dat and the waiting horse and carriage.
“Honestly, I thought Mamma might up and change her mind and stay home today,” Nan said, looking out the window.
“Ach, funny. I was thinkin’ the same thing.”
“So, you’ve got yourself a secret to share, is that it?” Nan’s eyes twinkled.
“Well, I’ve been thinking ’bout all the times you’ve asked me to go along to the New Order barn Singings.”
Nan leaned near, a droll expression on her face. “Are ya sayin’ you might be ready?”
“Nee.”
“Then what?”
“It’s just that I’m anxious to see your beau . . . if only from afar.”
Nan laughed. “Oh, you’re the sneaky one, ain’t so?”
Nellie tried not to grin. “How much longer must I wait, sister?”
“He is mighty good-lookin’, I’ll say that much.”
“But lots of fellas are.”
“He’s not as bold as some, though, so I doubt he’d ever meet me at the barn door . . . just so
you
can catch a glimpse of him.”
“All right, then, you’ll have to tell me who.”
Nan crossed her arms in jest. “I don’t have to tell you any such thing.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Brightening again, Nan teased, “But if you guess his name, I will.”
Nan had her but good. “It’ll take far too long to name off all the youth in the new group. And I doubt you’ll give me another hint, knowin’ you.”
“Not a one!” With that, Nan again burst out laughing.
“Well, if you’re getting married come fall, I s’pose he’ll be a baptismal candidate, jah?”
“Now you’re gettin’ warmer.”
Nellie Mae considered all the young men who were the right age to join church. Mostly their second and third cousins came to mind. “You’re not in love with a Fisher relative, are ya?”
Nan’s eyes bugged out, and she tried to compose herself.
This was fun. “Dat’s cousins have quite a few courting-age sons. . . .”
“Never mind. I won’t tell you even if you do guess.”
“Aw, Nan.”
“Best not say, for now.”
“Oh, and I was that close, too.”
Nan had that twinkle again. “You only think so.”
“Ach, you’re the feisty one, ain’t? Guess I’m just going to have to go to Singing with you, then.”
“Wonderful-gut! That’s what I was hopin’ you’d say.”
Nellie Mae shook her head.
What am I getting myself into?
“Life’s full of twists and turns,” Caleb told Chris as they entered the milk house. “I never expected my father to end up in a wheelchair. I figured he’d still be out cutting tobacco when his time came.”
“Must be hard, seein’ him that way.”
“One thing’s for certain,” Caleb said. “It makes you think twice.”
“What does?”
Caleb shrugged, knowing that a discussion about sickness and death was like opening a barn door to Chris’s undoubtedly strange ideas. At the moment, though, he didn’t care. “We deal with so-called tragedy differently than Englischers, you might know.”
“But you’re human. You still suffer.”
“Usually in silence,” Caleb said quietly. “Sometimes I wonder . . .” He paused, shaking his head, unwilling to voice his frustrations. He stared out the window, wondering how they’d gotten to this.
Chris cleared his throat. “I don’t blame you. You might think you know how you’ll react to something as terrible as your father’s accident, but until it happens, you can’t really know at all.”
Turning away from the window, he was surprised at Chris’s response. He’d become accustomed to seemingly prideful statements from some of the New Order folk—
the saved folk
. But Chris seemed different. Why?
As if in response to Caleb’s questioning stare, Chris bowed his head for a moment, running his hands through his thick blond hair. “I’ll tell you . . . Suzy Fisher’s drowning was the worst thing that’s ever happened to our family. The hardest thing on Zach and me.”
“Did you know her very well?”
Chris paused, as if wanting to be careful how he put this. “For the short time my brother dated her, I’d say I knew her fairly well, yes.”
Caleb searched Chris’s face. “You were there when she died, weren’t you?”
Nodding, Chris stepped away from the bulk milk tank, and Caleb cautiously opened the lid to check on the stirring mechanism. “I’ll just say that it shook our faith—my brother’s more than mine,” said Chris. “Why would God allow such a wonderful young girl to drown? We’d heard debates on suffering, but . . .” He hesitated. “Until it hits home, all the talk in the world is simply that . . . talk.”
“So what happened? I mean, how did you keep on,
you know . . . believing like ya do?” asked Caleb.
Chris shrugged. “We decided to take God at face value, so to speak. It’s hard sometimes, but in the Bible it’s clear—what’s waiting for us . . . after this life, is impossible to understand or fathom. But most important for us . . .”
Caleb waited.
“We knew we’d see Suzy again.”
Caleb swallowed hard. He wouldn’t let on how he felt— downright helpless. Even alone. “My father says we can’t know for certain where we’re goin’. But we can hope for heaven, come Judgment Day.”
“Well, I disagree.”
Chris seems so sure.
“Why’s that?”
“Because God’s Word tells us differently.”
“Since Daed’s accident, I admit to thinkin’ things that might shock the bishop.” Caleb forced a nervous laugh.
“Well, I’m not your bishop, Caleb.”
He turned slowly, taking a long look at his modern cousin. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” Caleb smiled.
They continued to work together like close brothers. And, later, when it came time for Chris to leave, he mentioned a boy in his church class who might benefit by spending a few hours at the farm.
Caleb agreed to ask his father about having Billy Zercher visit sometime with Chris. But what Caleb really wished for was to invite Chris to stay on for supper.
Anything to keep him here longer.
Caleb sat whittling in the corner of the tobacco shed after supper. A gray barn cat sauntered through the open doorway and nuzzled her head against his leg. Dusk closed in around them, and Caleb found some tranquility in the stillness of nightfall. Peace was something he longed for, especially now.
He’d left the house for a reprieve from watching Daed in his wheelchair at every meal. His father was so determined to cut his own meat or reach for his glass, but needing help from Mamm to steady him. He seemed to be losing more muscle tone and mobility even in his arms and upper body as the days passed. But he remained at the head of the table—where a crack in the wood reminded all of them of his fierce temper. Now the paralysis had pushed Daed’s ire to a frightening rage over his weakness as he still strove to control his household with a strong hand. His willingness to allow Caleb to help out was purely practical, Caleb knew, and nothing more.
“My father’s not getting better,” Caleb told the cat. She turned her head sideways, looking at him with yellow-green eyes. And he sighed. “I must be desperate if I’m talkin’ to you.”
He leaned back against the shed wall gingerly, muscles sore after a long day of unloading stored hay for the neighbors. Lately, he seemed to meet himself coming and going—getting up before dawn and staying up too late, contemplating his lot in life.
It hadn’t been more than a few weeks ago that his father and brothers had been pressing the cured and stripped tobacco leaves into a bale box, packaging it for auction. Daed had always sold his “Pennsylvania 41” to a broker from the Lancaster Leaf Company. The dark-colored, gummy leaf made for good cigar filler, according to his grandfathers, and some fine chewing tobacco, too. He’d tried the latter, but only on the sly, as a rite of passage when he turned sixteen.
