The Longing (4 page)
“But before all of that, Suzy had gotten herself a fella,” she muttered.
Slipping her hand into her pocket, Rhoda felt Suzy’s bracelet there, thinking she ought to start wearing it. After all, she was as gussied up as any fancy woman who’d never been raised to know better.
Why not?
Waiting for some word on his father, Caleb was captive to his own imagination. In his drowsy state, he replayed his final visit with Nellie Mae in her bakery shop, unable to put the dreadful day behind him. He wondered how he might have steered the conversation toward a happy outcome. But no, Nellie had been determined to have her way, unlike any young woman he knew. She’d spurned his love for a newfangled faith that could never endure. He scoffed at the very idea of the new church—the New Order, or whatever they called themselves. Yet somehow, they’d gotten to his beloved.
“She’s brainwashed.” He hurled his angry words into the stillness of his mother’s kitchen. There was some consolation in knowing he had tried to talk Nellie Mae out of joining the new church. Given time, he would have done anything to get her to see the foolishness of her choice. If only she’d agreed to run away with him. If only the church split hadn’t ripped the People apart . . . hadn’t ripped
them
apart, destroying their hopes for a future as man and wife.
How was I to know it would come to this?
Thoughts of his former sweetheart pressed hard on his mind as he got up and went to the sink for some cold water. He’d lived with this frustration each day since their absurd farewell.
Caleb had no recourse now but to dismiss Nellie completely. Yet, hard as he tried, it was impossible to think of his darling being courted by another man. He clenched his jaw as grief and rage filled him.
It was close to midnight when Abe startled him, shaking him awake. Caleb had fallen asleep near the woodstove, in Daed’s old kitchen rocking chair. Rousing himself, he sat up. “How’s Daed doin’?” he asked.
“It’s bad news, Caleb. Awful bad. He might not even survive the night.”
“Ach, this can’t be.”
“Listen, we can’t give up just yet,” Abe chided. “There’s still breath in him.”
“Shouldn’t you have stayed?” Caleb asked softly, concerned his father might die alone.
“Believe me, I wanted to, but I thought it best to return right quick for Mamm. Take her back with me . . . just in case. The driver’s waitin’ outside.”
Caleb agreed that Mamm should be at their father’s side at this dire time. “You’d best be getting Mamm up, then, jah?”
Solemnly, Abe nodded. “If she’s even asleep. No doubt she’s up there stewin’.” He removed his black hat, brown eyes shadowed in the dim light. “Perhaps that’s the hardest thing of all. Not knowing what the mornin’ will bring.”
Caleb had many questions, but he sat as still as the great stones in his father’s field. Shouldn’t he go to the hospital, too? Try to make peace with his hardhearted father?
Abe placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go on back to Dawdi’s now, Caleb. Get some more rest—you’ll need it for what’s ahead, no doubt.”
Caleb
shuddered.
He doesn’t think Daed will pull through. . . .
“Remind Mamm how determined our father’s always been,” he told Abe. “Don’t dash her hopes.”
Abe gave a nod and trudged toward the stairs, saying no more.
Slowly Caleb rose and headed into the utility room for his coat and hat, aware of the effort of pushing one foot in front of the other. His tired mind raced with uncertainty— concern that his father’s death would leave so much undone between them. And his heart went out to Mamm for all the years she’d stood by the most stubborn man Caleb had ever known.
On the cold ride back to his grandparents’ place, he considered the possible changes ahead . . . the harsh reality of his family’s predicament. At this dark hour, his father’s very life hung by a thread.
Reuben Fisher was surprised when his oldest brother, Bishop Joseph, arrived from the next farm over early the following morning. Reuben was grooming the new foals when Joseph came plodding into the barn, a look of apprehension on his face. “There’s been a terrible accident.”
Anxious about his aging parents, Reuben braced himself for bad news, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.
“One of David Yoder’s mules kicked him yesterday afternoon— like to have killed him, but it seems he’s got himself a hard noggin.”
“Will David live?”
Joseph pushed up his spectacles, his eyes serious. “Too soon to say. I expect to hear more from Abe today.”
Reuben listened as his brother gave a few more details about the accident. Then Joseph sighed. “Well, I best be goin’. I’ve got to get word to a few more folks yet this morning.” He offered a wave as he departed.
Rushing to the house, Reuben relayed the news to Betsy, who looked as stunned as he felt.
“Oh, Reuben, more sorrow?” She spoke in a whisper as she reached to embrace him, her Bible pressing against his back.
He held her near, aware of her trembling. “You needn’t fret, love.” He stroked her long, beautiful hair, still down from the night. “Leave all the worry to me. I’ll see what can be done to help the Yoders.”
She looked up at him ever so sweetly, eyes filling with tears. “I’ll do my part, too.”
“You’re a wonderful-
gut
woman, you are.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Take care of yourself today, hear?”
Before leaving, he snatched up his own Bible, wanting it with him in the buggy. There was a quiet confidence in knowing he had God’s Word within his reach.
Then he headed out to the barn to get his driving horse, planning to make a quick trip to Preacher Manny’s to solicit help from a few of the New Order men. He would also go to each of his sons to request their assistance with David’s farming duties—milking, hauling manure, sowing alfalfa seed in the former wheat field. Such work was never ending, especially during the warm months. He also assumed David and his sons were in the process of sterilizing their tobacco beds with steam, tobacco being one of David’s major cash crops. Reuben didn’t see how his conscience would allow him to help with that particular job, but he knew plenty of progressive farmers who wouldn’t mind pitching in. Even some of the older men were mighty strong in their hands, due to years of working with “the ’baccy.”
Last of all, he would stop by to see Elias King. Perhaps Elias would ride with him to visit David at the hospital—a trip Reuben felt compelled to make, no matter the bleak reception that might await him
.
Betsy slipped on her bathrobe and hurried downstairs to tell Nan and Nellie Mae of the tragic accident, her voice shaking as she did. To think such a terrible thing could happen— and without warning. She could scarcely bear to think of poor Elizabeth Yoder, who must be heartsick, beside herself with worry.
Ach, what the whole family must be going through. . . .
“I’ll bake a nice, hot dish or two,” Nellie said, blinking her eyes.
Nan slowly nodded and leaned on the kitchen table. “And I’ll start breakfast . . . then bake some more cookies.”
Betsy, too, was eager to help Nellie finish baking the day’s offerings for Nellie’s Simple Sweets. It was impossible for Nellie alone to keep up anymore, what with the crowd of customers. In fact, she’d thought recently the cozy bakery shop had outgrown its name—Nellie, Nan, and Betsy’s Simple Sweets seemed a better fit these days, though the selection was no longer so simple.
Quickly Nan and Nellie Mae decided how they might manage their regular baking with the added meals for the Yoders, and soon the numbing shock of David’s accident gave way to purposeful action.
Will the Yoders accept our gift of food . . . and Reuben’s offer to help?
Betsy knew it would take a miracle for the Yoders to abandon their so-called shunning of New Order and Beachy folk, even in the midst of their great need.
A thoughtful glance at Nellie’s ashen face revealed how deeply the news had affected her now-youngest daughter. Betsy sensed not only Nellie Mae’s deep sympathy but her understandably great caution where the Yoder family was concerned. As if it was hard even to speak their names.
It’s hard to change horses in midstream,
she thought. After all, David Yoder was to have been Nellie’s father-in-law.
“I’ll cook the food, but I’d rather not take it over there,” Nellie admitted softly.
Betsy breathed a prayer of gratitude for Nellie’s merciful heart, doing this hard thing.
To show the love of the Lord Jesus . . .
All the while Nellie chopped potatoes and made small snibbles of a large yellow onion, her thoughts were on Caleb.
How horrid he must feel.
Oh, his poor, dear mother and siblings . . . and his father, whose life hung in the balance. As she greased the pans for the beef-and-potato casserole and buttered-noodle dish, she wondered what she might be doing differently today in response to this tragedy if she and Caleb were still courting. Wouldn’t she rush to his side to offer comfort?
Sliding the baking dishes into the oven at last, she wished there might be something more she could do. But no, she was doing exactly what she ought to—making an anonymous meal.
Her throat was tight with dread. David was a man of conviction and of action, too. Even though he was as sincere as the next man, she believed he was sincerely wrong in the way he’d treated Caleb—and in his firm stance against the new church.
Yet Nellie did not hold even the slightest grudge, though she couldn’t help but wonder if Caleb still did, after everything he’d endured at the hand of his unyielding father.
In any case, Caleb surely needed the support of his friends . . . and his extended family. “But it’s not my place,” she caught herself saying aloud.
She glanced back at Nan to see if her sister had noticed the slip, but Nan appeared lost in her own thoughts. Her usually joyful countenance sagged; doubtless that had more to do with the private chat with Rhoda last night at the restaurant. So far, she hadn’t yet divulged what had prompted her concern, but Nellie assumed it had something to do with Rhoda’s plans to live a fancy life. What else could it be?
Soon Nan headed out to help feed the livestock, in Dat’s absence. Most likely, he was on his way home to wait for the hired driver. Numerous other farmers would surely drop by the Yoders’ to offer farming assistance, as word spread. And Uncle Bishop would open up the benevolence fund to help with medical bills, as usual.
Nellie crimped the edges of the crust on one of her many pies as the sun shone hard against the gleaming windows. Dawn was bringing daylight earlier each morning, another vital sign of spring. And with the change of season, there would be much more to do outdoors—tending their own vegetable and charity
gardens, weeding flower beds, keeping the lawns well trimmed and neat, and whitewashing fences. She was ready to work outside again, feeling like a cooped-up hen in a chicken house. Eager to keep busy, too. During slow times in the shop, she had even begun writing down favorite recipes. Anything to keep her hands and mind occupied—and her thoughts away from her lingering loneliness for Caleb.
I wish I could be the one to soothe his pain,
she thought now, picking up her pace. Deep in her heart, she knew she was grasping for excuses to offer kindness to Caleb. But she must act as though she had never been courted—or kissed—by handsome Caleb Yoder, no matter how desperate or hopeless his father’s condition.
With Reuben’s help, Elias King made swift work of feeding and watering his goats. The younger man seemed pleased to be invited along to visit David Yoder. He slipped briefly into the house to let Rosanna know where they were headed before stepping up into Reuben’s carriage. They would wait at the Fishers’ for a hired driver to take them to the hospital in town.
Elias was rather solemn in Reuben’s buggy. “Such a shame ’bout David. I hope he hangs on.” He shook his head. “Denki for askin’ me to join ya.”
Reuben nodded. “Visiting him is the least we can do.”
“Any real hope of us seein’ him?”
“Even if not, our goodwill gesture will mean something to Elizabeth, no doubt.”
“If she hears ’bout it,” Elias said with a knowing look.
“You’d think his children would let their mother know we offered to help with farm work.” He informed Elias that he’d gone to see his cousin Manny in hopes of gathering a group of folk to assist the Yoders. “A good way to demonstrate God’s love to a stubborn soul,” he added.
Elias agreed. “Hard to put ourselves in their shoes just now.” Not saying more, he lowered his head, as if in prayer for the unwavering man, now so severely injured.
Reuben joined him silently.
O Lord, bless David with divine mercy and your great compassion. Preserve him so that he might come to know you. And may we be an encouragement to that end.
Truly, there was little chance of two New Order church members being permitted to visit with David, regardless of how seriously wounded he was reported to be. If the man could think for himself . . . and speak, too, there was no way either Reuben or Elias would step foot in his room, such was the ill will David displayed toward them. Even so, Reuben was glad to make the effort, still faithful to his former friend. He wouldn’t think of giving up on David Yoder, no matter.
The steady melting on the road had caused a muddy mess out front and all the way down the road. Betsy recalled Reuben saying how caked up the horseshoes on their driving horses had become. She and Reuben were both fond of the horses, especially those used for pulling buggies. Betsy had known some families who thought of their driving horses as dear pets, even going so far as to give them special nicknames like Josie-girl or Ol’ Gertie. She smiled, glad for such reliable transportation this day, the carriage laden with Nellie Mae’s delicious meal and several pies, too, along with sweet breads and other pastries. Nellie had been ever so eager to include a broad assortment in the hamper of food.
As if she’s making up for something . . .
Betsy could speculate, of course, but she wouldn’t go so far as to presume to know what had transpired between her daughter and Caleb Yoder. It wasn’t her place to pry. But since Nellie was staying close to home on weekends, most likely she wasn’t seeing anyone, including Caleb. To think the young man had been cast out of his own house by his father and sent to live in his grandfather’s Dawdi Haus, of all strange things.
