Nineteen
Sunday dawned clear and mild—a good day for new beginnings. Nathan shaved his upper lip and then combed and trimmed his beard. It had been a long time since he’d worn his Sunday best clothes, including his mutza, the Amish vest, and polished black shoes. Iris had used so much starch on his white shirt that it would stand up on its own. The collar chafed his sunburned neck, but he’d be able to tolerate that minor discomfort and a whole lot worse. After all, it was the Lord’s Day. And he was returning to preaching services.
He could hear Iris humming a tune in the kitchen while she fed Abraham his breakfast. The horse, already hitched to the buggy, stood in the shade swishing flies with his tail. With a final tug of the comb through his thick hair, Nathan walked downstairs with a spring in his step. He feared nothing. The decision he’d made after prayers last night had allowed him to sleep soundly for a change.
“Guder mariye,” said Iris. “Ready to go, I see. Sit down and eat some oatmeal. Otherwise your grumbling stomach will keep the rest of us from concentrating on the sermon.”
He grinned while pouring coffee. He would miss Aunt Iris. He’d grown as fond of her as his own mamm. She certainly had a better sense of humor than his mamm. “All right, I’ll have a bowl.” He carried his cup to the table where Abraham tried to capture dust motes in the streaming sunshine. “Good morning, son. How goes your day so far?” He spoke to the child in Deutsch because children didn’t usually learn English until they started school. The boy giggled.
“Strawberries or bananas?” asked Iris. When he indicated the latter, she added a heaping pile to his oats.
“What do you think about the church service at your own home?”
Iris sat down to finish her own breakfast. “All I have to say is my daughters-in-law had better be wearing running shoes if that house isn’t spick-and-span.”
He glanced up to find her eyes twinkling. “You would chase after them with your broom?”
“If need be, but I’m not too worried. They are good girls.”
“Are you anxious to get back to your family?” When the question caught in his throat, he gulped down some coffee.
“You’re my family too, Nathan, you and Abraham. Don’t you forget that.” She wiped her mouth and then pulled her apron over her head.
“I don’t think I will ever stop being grateful.” He scraped the sides of his bowl with his spoon.
“For what? For taking care of this little angel?” She lifted the baby from the highchair, making all the appropriate noises, and hugged him to her chest. “This child is a gift from God.” Abraham gurgled while reaching for a kapp ribbon.
“That he is, but we’d better be off. I don’t want to be late.” He carried his bowl to the sink and carefully positioned his black hat on his head.
“Are you nervous?” she asked, wrapping a lightweight quilt around the boy’s legs. “These are just Plain folk, nephew, and no different than you or me.”
“They might wonder why I’ve stayed away after everybody was so nice at the funeral.” He picked up the hamper of pies she had baked yesterday for the lunch table.
She emitted a dismissive snort. “Nonsense. Many of those folks have walked in your shoes. You’re not the only one to suffer sorrow.”
So like Iris to put things in perspective. “In that case I’m as ready as I ever will be.” He opened the door for her and they walked into glorious sunshine, perfect for a day to give thanks.
Neither spoke much during the drive to the service except for the requisite comments about the weather. Once at Iris’ home, they had to park quite a distance from the house. Nathan hefted the heavy hamper while she carried the infant. Because the bishop hadn’t yet summoned people inside to worship yet, many milled around in the crisp fall air.
“Oh, my,” called a voice. “Nathan has come with mamm, and they have brought the little one!” Iris’ eldest daughter-in-law, Mary, ran toward them. “How he has grown and put on weight since I last saw him. Mamm Fisher is quite an expert with doing that.” Mary slapped a hand on a well-rounded hip.
But Iris wasn’t listening. She was studying the windows of her house, cocking her head to catch the reflection of sunlight on the glass. “Did you wash the windows this past week? You had plenty of notice about this service.”
Mary exchanged a sly look with Nathan. “Jah, with vinegar and old newspapers, just how you taught me. Let me take that boppli to show around. People will be itchin’ to see him.” She pulled Abraham from Iris’ arms and began bouncing him on her hip.
Iris was itching to see the inside of her home. “You go on ahead. I’m going in for a moment.”
Mary chuckled under her breath. “Welcome back, Nathan. I’ll show off your son while I hide from my mother-in-law, just until she finishes her inspection. Her other sons’ wives are inside in case something needs last-minute polishing.” Mary strode off toward the knot of women, while Nathan walked to the menfolk. The bishop, minister, and deacon stood within the group.
“Guder mariye,” he said, sweeping off his hat.
Those who hadn’t seen him approach pivoted, their expressions registering surprise. But in a moment they had surrounded him with warm welcomes, queries about his harvest, and complaints about the overly cool nights. He felt as though he’d been drawn into an Amish cocoon.
When the minister announced it was time to begin the service, the bishop placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hold up a moment,” he ordered. Nathan peered into the elder’s lined face and swallowed hard. The bishop waited until everyone else had filed into the house before speaking. “I’ve been wondering when you would return. If you didn’t come back after the harvest, I was going to pay you a visit. Iris told me you needed some thinking time.” He studied Nathan as though he were a peculiar bug on the windowsill. “You do your thinking, son?”
“Jah, sir, I did.” He met the older man’s gaze without blinking. “I’m sorry if—”
The bishop held up a palm. “You owe me no apology. You might owe Him some kind of explanation if you wandered too far from prayer.” He turned his face skyward where clouds scuttled by on the high breeze.
“I’ve set things right in that department.”
A slow smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “Wunderbaar!” he boomed. “Then let’s see what the minister has in store for the first sermon.” His hand tightened on Nathan’s shoulder as though he half expected him to bolt for the buggies.
But Nathan wasn’t going anywhere. As the two men entered the front room, his heart swelled with hope as he heard voices lifted in the first hymn. He might still be in Ohio, but for now, it felt like home.
When Catherine approached the kitchen that Sunday morning, the room was so quiet she thought it must surely be empty. Instead, all four Grabers were in various stages of breakfast. Jake and Laura were eating cereal and milk with heads propped up with their hands. Daniel sipped coffee, reading something in the German Bible, while Abby was filling another bowl with Cheerios. She didn’t look up when Catherine entered the room.
“Hi, Aunt Catherine,” said Laura. “Mamm says you’re leaving soon. Is that true?” Her face expressed her opinion on the subject.
“What’s your hurry?” asked Daniel. “Why not wait until the harvest is in and all the garden produce canned. We still need your help.” He stared over his reading glasses.
“Maybe you can talk some sense into her. I’ve had no luck,” muttered Abby, shutting the cupboard door with a clatter.
Catherine chose the child to answer. “Jah, little one. Your grossmammi might need me for a while. But maybe I can return for a Saturday or two if your mamm can’t manage without me.”
“I want you to stay.” Laura dropped her spoon into the bowl.
She patted the little girl’s head. “Danki, I would if I could. I’ll miss you too.”
“You are being hasty and impetuous. Typical Catherine Yost behavior,” declared Abby.
“I am not. I’ve thought the matter through.” Catherine set down the coffeepot and narrowed her gaze across the room.
“Ladies, ladies,” said Daniel. “It’s the Lord’s Day. At least postpone this discussion until after preaching.”
Abby’s face turned rosy pink. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Daniel is right.” She carried two bowls of cereal to the table, handed one to Catherine, and then bowed her head in silent prayer.
After a few minutes, Catherine spoke. “There really isn’t much to discuss. I’ve finished packing. My suitcase is in the hallway. If Daniel can take me home after the service, I’d be much obliged.” She poured milk into her coffee.
Abby’s head snapped up from her breakfast. “And miss his lunch? A man has to eat! It wouldn’t hurt for you to eat a little something too, as you’ve lost your fondness for my cooking.” She took a long gulp of coffee.
“That’s not true, schwester. I’ve simply lost my appetite in general.”
Daniel put his hand over his wife’s and squeezed, but he focused on Catherine. “I’ll take you home after we eat, but why don’t you just ride home with your parents?”
“Because they will stay all day. I’d like to go home as soon as possible.”
“All right, it’s settled.” He returned to reading the Bible passage.
Catherine ate a handful of dry cereal for something to do, but she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. “How is Boots?” she blurted. “Does she continue to recover?”
“You know where Isaiah’s cabin is,” said Abby. “You should have walked down to check on the dog yourself.”
Daniel rose from the table. “Why don’t you help me carry the food out to the buggy? The team is already hitched. I’m afraid if you stay in here any longer, my wife might start pulling your hair, Sabbath or no.”
Catherine put the box of cereal away, picked up a roaster full of sliced beef, and followed him outdoors. The September breeze felt good on her overheated skin. After they had stowed the food behind the seats, Daniel turned to face her. “Boots will make a full recovery. As I told you when I got home, Doc Longo injected her with medicine to counter the toxins in her system and then cleaned the stinger wounds. Her respiration had improved by the next morning. He put her on some pills to help her breathe easier, plus antibiotics twice a day to fight infection. The pills make her sleepy, and Doc says that’s a good thing. She’ll recover faster if she’s not trying to run around. Isaiah has that big dog sleeping on the foot of his bed.” He shook his head. “Big dog, big man—must make for cramped sleeping.” He walked toward the house twenty paces.
“And how is Isaiah?” she asked, trailing one pace behind him.
“He’s fine, Catherine. Just shook up by the ordeal.” Daniel halted, put his hands around his mouth, and hollered, “Abby, time to go. Get the kinner loaded up.”
“Thanks for telling me and for saving me from a hair-pulling.” She stepped around him to help Abby carry anything else needed for the noon meal, and then she climbed into the backseat to ride to preaching. Sitting between her niece and nephew, Catherine wouldn’t see Abby pouting and could therefore concentrate on what to do with the rest of her life. Maybe she would look for another job watching other people’s children because having her own had grown unlikely.
“The Lord said, come unto me all who are troubled and heavy laden, and I shall give you peace,” the bishop said in German. His words eased Catherine’s heart because she knew them to be true.
“He’s talking to you, sister,” whispered Abby over her daughter’s head.
“Jah, peace at mamm and daed’s,” Catherine whispered back.
Abby leaned over with another comment, but Catherine shook her head and stared at the doorway. A tardy man had entered the outbuilding and slipped into the last row on the men’s side—a man who looked familiar. Tall, with a broad chest and shoulders, he had an exotic complexion the color of olive oil. His loose-limbed, catlike movements indicated he’d be more comfortable anywhere but on a hard bench for a three-hour church service.
She blinked twice. This can’t be. Isaiah doesn’t come to preaching. He can’t hear Scripture or the sermons, and he can’t read the songbook to follow along with the hymns.
Daniel had been correct about that. Isaiah could never get to know God in the traditional way. Nevertheless, while she watched, the man on his right elbowed the late-arrival in the ribs, motioning for him to remove his hat.
Catherine gasped as the room tilted to one side. There was no mistaking the silky long black hair, tucked behind his ears without the traditional Amish bangs. The man was definitely Isaiah Graber. Her face flushed as the temperature skyrocketed inside the barn. She pulled away from his hypnotic dark eyes and looked at her sister. Abby was staring with the same slack-jawed shock. Laura turned from her mamm to her gefunden and whispered, “It’s Isaiah,” in case they hadn’t noticed.
After Catherine’s heart rate slowed, she chanced a second peek. He was surreptitiously watching her while mimicking the other men’s behavior. When their gazes met, he winked and smiled. She felt suddenly light-headed. Her palms had grown clammy, while her stomach complained about the meager handful of Cheerios. When it became hard to catch her breath, she feared she was suffering a heart attack. What better place to die than in a church?
For two sermons, much singing, many prayers, and plenty of Scripture, Catherine tried to keep her mind on worship, and at most times she succeeded. But during the three-hour service, something was growing deep in her gut—a seed of hope.
Why has he come? The only logical answer was hard for her to trust.
When church ended, people filed out into early fall sunshine to chat with friends and neighbors. Most of the women bustled to set the food on long tables for the noon meal. Catherine walked outdoors at her sister’s side, while Laura scampered off to join the girls headed to the swings.
“We don’t need your help with lunch, Catherine,” said Abby. “We have plenty of ladies. Plus I think there’s someone you need to talk to.” She arched an eyebrow. “Time’s awastin’. None of us is getting any younger.”
Catherine’s stomach twisted like a rope. “Okay, here goes nothing,” she said. Or everything, she thought. Meandering toward the shade, she found a spot to assess the situation. Isaiah stood in the barnyard, surrounded by young men. One man slapped Isaiah on the back, while another stepped close to speak something she couldn’t hear. At least they appeared to be taking turns and were not all talking at once. Isaiah glanced from one to the other, sometimes nodding in agreement, sometimes shrugging his shoulders in confusion. But he was smiling.
Catherine approached on legs barely capable of holding her weight. When she stood behind Isaiah, Sam Miller touched his arm and gestured for him to turn around. As he did, her heart attack symptoms ratcheted up a notch.
His expression grew into a full-blown grin. “Hullo, Cat.” He winked without the least bit of shyness.
“Hello, Isaiah,” she said. “Can I talk to you?” She used the sign language he had learned during their brief, happy times together.
He nodded to his compatriots and then took her arm. As they walked toward the pasture, away from hearing ears, her confidence drained away like water from a bathtub. How can I explain? How can I say how sorry I am for shaming him?
They stopped at the fence, overgrown with wild grapes. Plump purple berries still clung in bunches to the vines. Isaiah tipped up her chin with one finger.
She gasped from his touch and blurted, “How’s Boots?” She used his gesture for calf-high footwear for the dog’s name.
“Gut,” he answered and indicated the dog still slept most of the day.
“What do you think about today’s weather?” She mimed that she thought it neither too hot nor too cold.
Isaiah laughed at her, agreeing that the temperature was just right.
In a soft voice she enunciated slowly, “Why did you come today?” Then Catherine gazed across the rolling fields, feeling like an idiot.
He took hold of her chin to turn her face. “For you, Cat. I came for you.”
Then using verbal words and nonverbal articulations, he expressed that he wished to learn to read lips better and communicate more. In fact, his pantomimes were so concise and easily interpreted she knew he must have been practicing them…maybe since the evening of the volleyball party, or perhaps the night of the hornet emergency. But either way, Catherine clapped her hands as though a children’s program had just concluded.
Isaiah didn’t clap. He didn’t even try to use words or gestures to make his heart’s desire known. Instead he leaned down and kissed her as though he had all the time in the world and didn’t care a fig if anyone saw them.
His meaning was crystal clear, in the age-old language of love.
Abby nibbled on a piece of corn on the cob and sampled some of the local fresh sausage. Delicious though it might be, she had little appetite once she sat down with her lunch. All around her, people were eating, visiting, and enjoying the Sabbath. Even her sister looked far different from the sullen woman who had stared blankly over Jake’s head at scenery she’d viewed a hundred times before. And the reason for her change in attitude was sitting across from her at the long table reserved for single folks.
Isaiah worked on a plate of food that could have fed an average English family of four. Yet he ate without paying much attention to the meal. His eyes were glued on Catherine. He sat on the very end of the bench while she seemed to be talking for both of them. Seeing those two communicating was the only thing lifting Abby’s spirits. Nathan Fisher’s visit later that afternoon weighed heavily on her mind.
When Daniel pushed away his plate, he met her gaze with a grin. “Why did I eat so much, fraa? My stomach feels like it might explode.”
“Because everything tastes better on a day as fine as this.” Abby forced herself to finish her sausage and not be wasteful.
“Your sliced beef was a crowd-pleaser. There’s barely enough left in the roaster for cold sandwiches tonight.” He lowered his voice so no one would overhear him.
“Worry not, ehemann. I saved a bowlful at home so my dear one wouldn’t go hungry.”
“You are the best wife in the world!” he announced. Everyone around them laughed, while a few elderly matrons rolled their eyes.
“Enjoy the appreciation while you can get it, Abigail,” called one woman midway down the table.
“True. Soon enough I’ll return to my normal status—somewhere between peach pie à la mode and day-old white bread,” answered Abby to the woman’s delight.
Daniel clamped his hand over hers. “Never day-old. Always freshly baked in my book.”
She smiled, wishing they could remain carefree with their friends for the rest of the day. “If you’ll have nothing more to eat, please hitch up the buggy. I’ll go look for Laura and Jake.”
His brow furrowed. “What’s the hurry? Evening milking is hours away.”
“Have you forgotten? Nathan Fisher is coming by this afternoon.”
Daniel stood, scratching his chin. “Slipped my mind. I’ll hitch the horse and bring up the buggy.” He tipped his hat to the district members and strode away.
Abby cleaned up their mess, packed her hamper, and thanked the hostess. She bid her parents goodbye, found her kinner and sent them to the buggy, and then she went looking for her sister. She wasn’t hard to find. Catherine and Isaiah sat in the shade, where she was again trying to teach him sign language.
“Ready?” asked Abby as she approached their quilt. “It’s time to go.”
Both looked up in surprise. “What?” Catherine squawked. “It’s barely one thirty.”
“Don’t you recall? Daniel is driving you home today after dropping me off at the farm. You’re eager to return to mamm and daed’s.” Abby perched a hand on her hip.
Every drop of blood in her body seemed to have rushed to Catherine’s face. “Oh…jah. I almost forgot,” she stammered.
Abby could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
“I hate to be selfish and demanding, because I’m sure Daniel enjoys talking to the other men.” Catherine smoothed her skirt with her palms.
“You’re not demanding at all,” said Abby. “Daniel is bringing the buggy up to load at the barn. I need to leave anyway because I’m expecting a visitor this afternoon.” She stretched out her hand. “Let me help you up.”
Catherine glanced at Isaiah before accepting the hand. His head rotated from one woman to the other in confusion. “Danki,” she said. Once on her feet, she pulled Abby away from the quilt. “There’s been a change of plans,” she whispered. “I believe I will stay longer.”
“But your packed bag is sitting in the back of the buggy.”
“I know, but you’re the one who accused me of being impetuous.”
“You insisted you’d considered the matter carefully.”
“Can’t a woman change her mind?” Catherine’s whisper was close to a hiss, while she stood so that Isaiah couldn’t possibly read her lips.
“Jah, schwester, you certainly can. And a mind like yours should be changed…often.” Abby stepped back before Catherine could pinch her. “I’ll see you later. I trust you can persuade Isaiah to bring you home.”
Catherine placed both hands on her hips. “You’d better hurry along so you don’t keep Daniel waiting.”
Abby did hurry toward the buggy, chuckling all the way…until she remembered Nathan Fisher, and then her good mood vanished.
Abigail had enough time to bake brownies and brew fresh iced tea before Nathan drove into their side yard. Her kinner were taking a nap after their busy day, while Daniel tended the livestock. Upon hearing the crunch of gravel, she dried her hands on a towel and walked outdoors to meet her fate.
Mr. Fisher was leaning into his buggy from the passenger side. Abby couldn’t see what he was fussing with, but when he straightened up his arms were filled with a patchwork quilt.
“Oh, my,” she whispered, starting down the steps. “Guder nachmittag, Mr. Fisher. What have you got there?”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Graber,” he called on his approach.
She felt apprehension ripple up her back. Fear is the handiwork of the devil, she thought and sucked in a deep, calming breath.
“I thought you might like to see little Abraham,” said Nathan. With the bundle tucked into the crook of one arm, he used his free hand to draw back one corner of the cover. “What do you think? Has he changed much since the last time you saw him?”
Memories of the worst night of her life crept from the recesses of her mind. She batted them away like thirsty mosquitoes. Rubbing her hands down her skirt, she leaned forward for a better view. The boppli had fisted one hand by his rosebud mouth, while the other gripped a small stuffed bear. Dark thick eyelashes fluttered while he slept, as though he dreamed of future summer days playing in the sun. His round cheeks were pink with vitality and dusted with a smattering of tan freckles. Abraham was the prettiest baby boy she had ever seen—except for her own Jake. “A handsome son,” she said. “Thank you for showing him to me.” She stepped back as though pressing business awaited her in the house.
“Don’t you want to hold him?” He didn’t wait for her response but foisted the sleeping child toward her.
“But I—” Without an option, Abby accepted the bundle, hoping he wouldn’t awaken and start to fuss. She shifted him to the crook of her arm as Nathan had done. She felt a swell of emotion gazing on the peaceful face in repose.
“He might not be here if not for you,” said Nathan with conviction.
“I don’t know about that.” Abby focused on the child instead of the daed.
“I know it. Your actions saved my son. If you had stood around twiddling your thumbs like the authorities would have had you do, he could have died.”
She wanted to argue, to deny his assumptions, but her throat had constricted. Finally after a long moment, she whispered. “God choose who lives and who dies.”
“That’s true, but I’m grateful for what you did. I don’t care much about English laws. I’m glad they released you to come home to your family.”
“So you know about that drug I gave her?”
“Of course I know. I’m glad you tried to save my Ruth. You did no wrong in my book. This baby was Ruth’s choice—there’s no arguing that. And everything else that happened was God’s choice.” He gently took the baby back as Abraham began to stir. “I just thought you would like to hear that from me.”
“Danki, Mr. Fisher. I’m grateful to hear your words and pleased to see him thriving.” Abby smiled for the first time since their arrival. “I’ll enjoy watching him grow up over the coming years. I’m sure we’ll cross paths at barn raisings and the like.” They walked toward Nathan’s buggy, where his horse stood flicking his tail and pawing at the dirt.
“Maybe not. In six months, when my farm lease is up, I intend to move back to Indiana. My parents and sisters and brothers live there, so I’ll have help tending the boy. And Abe will grow up surrounded by plenty of cousins. One of Iris’ sons plans to lease my farm after I move out. Sounds like one of her boys wants a home away from the rest of the clan.” He laughed a rich, throaty sound. This made Abraham laugh too, while he kicked his legs within the confining quilt.
Nathan strapped the boy into the car seat. “Danki, Mrs. Graber. I will remember you each night in my prayers for the rest of my life. And when I tell my son about his mamm, I’ll also tell him about you someday when he’s old enough to understand.” Then he climbed up, tipped his hat, and drove away.
Once the buggy turned the corner, Abby exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank You, Lord, for Your gift of peace at long last.”