He grinned widely. “But y’all know that better’n pretty much anyone.”
We talked a little bit about the man they’d found out by the roadside. Bill thought there were folks around here who might have done it, but nobody was saying much of anything.
“Sometimes everybody helps everybody else, and then sometimes they think they’re helping. Hate to see a man killed like a dog, but these are strange times.”
I said that I couldn’t help but agree.
After I asked, he told me that there was more news about the state of emergency. They had closed more of the interstates, and there was talk of a curfew.
“It ain’t like nobody can do much moving around anyway, but it feels weird not to be able to at all. Folks don’t like being told what they can and cain’t do, ’specially when it comes to where you can go. All the gas stations are dry anyway, and what gas folks do have they ain’t sellin’. Guess that doesn’t mess with y’all at all, though.”
I said that it did, perhaps more than he might think. If it hurts a neighbor, it messes with us.
“Yeah, I’d figure you’d think that way.”
IN THE AFTERNOON, I did as Joseph had done. We had many seeds left for planting . . . broccoli and lettuce, cabbage and cauliflower . . . and though our usual garden was plenty for us, I expanded the plots. Pearl was her usual patient, solid self as we turned the soil, and Nettie remained back in the stable.
It is later than I would typically plant, but even if the seeds do not take, it feels like we will need to cultivate more in the coming year. In the house, Hannah and Sadie worked together, preparing the pies that we would bring to the worship tomorrow.
After a while, Hannah sent Sadie out to bring in the clothes from the line, which they’d handwashed instead of taking over to the Stolfutzes. It worked almost as well, and it took less time than loading up and riding.
“It looks to rain tomorrow, Dadi!” she shouted out to me. “It’s good you’re getting the soil turned today!”
And I suppose it is good. A little rain will help set in the seeds.
COME SUNDOWN, IT WAS not as cold as it had felt in the morning, a breeze had come up. The wind was blowing from the south, gusting and pulling at my clothes, snatching at my hat. It caught leaves from the trees, and here and there, they would dance through the air. Little shadows, flitting across the rose-colored sky.
It made a very lovely sunset, as the clouds moved swiftly across the sun. Under the front porch, the rain-stick is drooping down. It felt like a storm.
October 11
When I woke, the wind was stronger still, and the temperature was very noticeably warmer. The clouds were heavier, and the rain came in gusts and squalls. The morning’s chores were wet and cold, and the animals seemed anxious as we fed them.
Worship would be at the Beilers’ today, and though we usually would not have worship on this Sunday, everyone last week had felt that we should gather for prayer and preaching and singing. It felt even more vital for us to be together in such a way, and Isaak had agreed that he would preach, even though it was not his turn.
That would be good to hear, because Isaak always had a way of finding the best grace in any sermon. Everyone had agreed last week that it would be a good thing.
But last week, we did not know that today would be a squalling mess of rain. It makes it feel more important, somehow, when we make the effort to gather together even though the weather is rough. I was also remembering that time two years ago, when the snows came fast and thick, and Nettie had struggled mightily. It had not been easy to get home that day.
I don’t think Nettie feels quite as positively about worship when the weather is bad. Certainly not as I brought her out from the barn.
Nettie seemed skittish as I hooked her to the buggy, much more so than usual. We piled in as quickly as we could, and Jacob sat up front with me as Hannah and Sadie nestled in the back. Just a few moments, we were in the rain before we’d secured the side curtains, but the rain fell in heavy sheets. I wore my long coat, but it was not quite enough to keep the wet out. Warmer though it was, the wind still bore a chill, and I felt it through my clothes.
We rolled down the drive, and onto the road, and began making our way to the Beilers’ for the worship. The rain lashed against the buggy, beating angrily against the sides. With each gust, and each blast of rain, the buggy rocked and creaked. “Tall like a sail,” shouted Jacob, and he was right.
Water sprayed in around the edges of the rain curtains, and Hannah and Sadie moved more toward the center of the buggy.
There was a flash of lightning, close by, and the thunder came in a great concussion right afterward. Nettie started, just a little, and I reined her back. We all started, in fact, just a little.
It was clear that this was a strong storm, and the further we got out into it, the more I wondered at the wisdom of continuing. It was a long ride.
When we got there, Hannah and Sadie ran inside, carefully sheltering the pies that they had baked. Isaak, who was waiting in the drive, shouted out to tell us to park over by their bigger barn and lead Nettie inside. Normally, we’d have put her in the field, but as the wind snarled and howled and the rain beat down, that did not seem kind.
“Too rough to leave the horses outside! Quite a storm!” We got her unhitched, and inside, and then made our way to the smaller barn, the place we gathered to worship whenever we were over at the Beilers’.
Some were there ahead of us, but most had not arrived yet. Others came eventually, all soaked to the skin, and we settled in to listen to the first of the sermons.
Young Bill Stolfutz was offering it, and he’d been selected to preach only just last year. He tried, he did, every time, and we’d sit and listen because even in the simplest effort, you can hear God speaking. Usually.
But not today. The rain hammered and rattled and shook the metal roof of the barn, and the wind battered the walls of the barn, and our ears were full of the sound of it. Bill has never been the loudest man, and it is one of the things I appreciate about him, but his voice just could not carry over the roar.
Still, he did what was his duty, and preached, and we could tell this because his mouth was moving.
Then we sang, and sang some more, and then there were prayers. We sang with more vigor, so as to be heard, and our voices seemed to mingle with the thunder and the drumming of the rain.
When it was Isaak’s time to preach, he raised up his voice so that he could be heard, even though the roar from the roof had not diminished.