Steadfast Mercy Page 10

  She spun around to face him. “I asked that the whole family kumm for mei birthday because I was sure you would ask for mei hand in marriage.”

  “I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

  “We used to talk about getting married.”

  She’d been the one to talk about marriage. He wasn’t so quick to believe she was mature enough yet, and he wasn’t about to rush into a lifetime commitment.

  “Darleen.” He stopped when the door opened and some of her family members came outside.

  “Happy birthday, sis.” Ellen gave Darleen a hug. “We have to head home and get the kinner in bed.”

  “Danki for coming.” Darleen gave her niece and nephew a hug good-bye.

  “I’ll stop by the store and talk with you tomorrow,” Ellen said.

  “It was nice seeing you again, Caleb,” James said.

  “Jah, you too. I’ll see you on Sunday.” He waited for them to walk away, then turned to Darleen. “I’m going to get going. It’s been a long day. I’ll talk with you soon?”

  Darleen shook her head. “I can’t go on like this. You’ve changed, Caleb.”

  “True.”

  This wasn’t the conversation to have at her birthday celebration, but Darleen straightened her shoulders as if determined to air everything out tonight. “You said yourself that you don’t know when you’ll be ready to get married.” She crossed her arms. “You don’t want to be a builder anymore, but I wonder.” She eyed him hard. “Why haven’t you finished planting your field? Do you want to fail?”

  “Why are you asking that?”

  “You use the excuse that you can’t afford a fraa. So, tell me, Caleb, when your crop fails—because you never planted it—will I be expected to wait yet another season?” She squared her shoulders. “I don’t want to wait any longer—I won’t.”

  After half a second ruminating whether or not to explain the various reasons why his crop wasn’t in, he decided against it. Her mind was made up, and it was just as well. He’d never reach her ideal potential now that he wasn’t a builder. “I understand.”

  She turned when another family member came outside and wished her happy birthday.

  As Caleb headed to his buggy, it started to rain. Wet and chilled to the bone, he wrapped himself in the blanket he’d given Jonica to use earlier, her tea tree scent swamping his senses. On the ride home icy sleet slapped at his windshield, washing away his dreams of yielding a profitable crop like summer dust.

  Chapter 10

  Jonica added an extra spoonful of coffee to the percolator. She needed a heavy boost of caffeine to start her day after being awake most of the night, conjuring up a multitude of reasons why Stephen’s hand bled so much. Had she aggravated the cut somehow by dousing his hand in flour? Jonica took a coffee cup from the shelf and leaned back against the countertop. She scanned the kitchen for the pamphlet from the doctor’s office. Though she had already skimmed the information in the buggy, somehow she’d misplaced the pamphlet. Mentally, she ticked off the places she’d already searched—her bedroom, Stephen’s room, the sitting room . . . The thing had simply vanished. Jonica couldn’t recall if Dr. Mallory had office hours on Saturday, but she would find out when she went into town for groceries.

  As the coffee brewed Jonica gazed out the window. The night sky had lifted, filling the horizon with soft shades of pink and blue that illuminated the snow-covered field. She sighed. Lying awake last night, listening to icy rain splatter against her bedroom window, she had worried about Caleb’s crop. Farming was hard work and he’d given up time that he could’ve been planting to help her. Not wanting him to lose everything, she’d prayed it wouldn’t snow—that he would have time to plant his winter wheat. But once again, another prayer went unanswered.

  “Why, Lord? Caleb seems like a gut man. He stepped in as a daed would and calmed Stephen, keeping him from panicking in the doktah’s office.”

  Caleb had a calming effect on her as well. When he placed his hand on her shoulder, she wanted to turn into his arms and melt in his strength. Somehow, with him by her side, she had reason to hope, to believe everything would be all right.

  No. He was a Schulmann—Peter’s brother. Jonica pushed the thoughts to the recesses of her mind. Her past would always stand in the way.

  “Lord . . .” At a loss for words Jonica turned away from the window. She’d been raised not to question God, to accept her lot in life with a thankful heart. After all, God had shown unmerited mercy on her. Still, questions plagued her. Why would it snow earlier than normal? Why had her parents died? She never had the chance to say good-bye to her mother and she’d prayed for her father to survive the accident, only to stand at his grave a few days later.

  “Lord, I don’t understand. You care for the sparrows but don’t care about Caleb’s crop?” She clamped her mouth closed, not wanting to verbalize her deepest fear—that God would not answer her prayer that Stephen’s blood work would return normal.

  Jonica filled a mug with coffee, then took a sip, the hot liquid burning the back of her throat as she swallowed. She set the mug on the table and took a seat. Normally this was when she would read the Bible and spend time meditating on God’s Word. But today she sat frozen in thought.

  Edna ambled into the kitchen. “Guder mariye.”

  “Mariye, Aenti.” Jonica rose to her feet. “Have a seat and I’ll bring you a mug of kaffi.” She readied the drink with sweetener, then placed the mug before her aunt. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Like a boppli.” Edna blew on the steaming coffee before she took a sip. “This is gut, danki.” She wrapped her hands around the mug as if to draw warmth.

  “Are you kalt?”

  “When you get to be mei age and your skin thins, you’ll find that you’re always kalt.” Aenti chuckled. “God has a sense of humor.”

  “How’s that?”

  “During mei middle-age years, I complained about hot flashes. Nau that He’s turned off the heat, I’m kalt all the time.”

  “Jah, quite the sense of humor.” She buried her sarcasm in a whimsical tone.

  “God answered mei prayers like He answered the Israelites. When they complained about manna, He gave them so much quail it came out their nose.” Aenti wagged an arthritic finger at Jonica. “Let that be a lesson to you. Watch what you grumble about.”

  Ashamed she had started her morning grumbling about the weather—about unanswered prayers—Jonica lowered her head, then changed the topic. “I thought I could make a list of the groceries we need and go into town today.” It’d give her a chance to pick up another pamphlet if Dr. Mallory’s office was open.

  “Put peanut butter on the list. I promised Stephen I would make a batch of kichlin. Flour, and we could probably use more sugar.”

  Jonica removed a piece of paper and pen from the cabinet bottom drawer and jotted down the things Aenti mentioned. Thankfully the little red wagon was still in the shed. Otherwise she would need to limit what items she bought since Aenti had sold her horse and buggy. It used to take her two hours to walk to town, longer if she stayed off the main roads. Excessive weight in the wagon would slow her down more. Jonica put the pen down. “I think this is a gut start.” No sense filling the cabinets when she and Stephen would be leaving soon.

  Aenti shivered. “You think it’s kalt in here?”

  Heat from the cookstove had warmed the kitchen, but Jonica hadn’t fired up the woodstove in the sitting room. “You’re probably feeling a draft from the window. It snowed last nacht.”

  Aenti pulled the curtain back and frowned. “We’re in for a snowstorm.”

  Jonica leaned toward the window to get a better look outside. “Ach! It’s snowing again.” The way the snow was coming down in large flakes and sticking to the ground, she might better skip breakfast and hurry into town for supplies now. As it was, with Aenti’s pantry depleted, they weren’t prepared to be housebound any length of time.

  Jonica drank the last sip of coffee, then stood. She had a f
ire to start and wood to bring in before the weather got any worse. It’d be a lot faster if her aunt could watch Stephen while she went into town. “The haus should warm up once I get a fire started.” She pointed to the notepad. “If you think of anything else we need, jot it down.”

  The wrinkles around her aunt’s eyes deepened. “We’ll need canning jars.”

  “For what?”

  “Canning pickles, silly.” The kitchen echoed with her aunt’s lighthearted laughter. “We can’t have all those cucumbers in the garden going to waste.”

  Jonica sighed. “Nay, that wouldn’t be gut.”

  Just when Jonica thought her aunt seemed lucid enough to oversee Stephen while she went into town, her aunt’s mind slipped into the past. The fallow ground hadn’t produced anything but weeds in years. “Write it on the list,” Jonica said, even though she had no intention of buying jars when it wasn’t canning season. In addition, her aunt must not remember she had shelves full of empty jars in the cellar.

  As Jonica padded into the sitting room, she made a mental note to look inside one of the outbuildings for a roll of plastic sheeting to winterize the windows. She recalled one winter in particular when the northeastern wind off Lake Huron brutally whipped across the field. The cold air would have gone through the old house had the windows not been covered with the sheets of plastic film. Jonica squatted next to the woodstove and wadded up a few pages of The Budget newspaper to use to start the fire.

  Stephen toddled into the room rubbing his eyes with his bandaged hand.

  “Guder mariye, schlofkopp.” She greeted the sleepyhead with a kiss on his cheek.

  He wrapped his arms around her neck in a tight hug. “I’m hungahrich, Mamm.”

  “We’ll eat breakfast soon.” She glanced down at his bare feet. “Geh back upstairs and put your socks on. The floors are too drafty to be running around the haus barefooted.”

  He wiggled his toes. “I’m nett kalt.”

  “Maybe nett”—she pointed at the stairs—“but do as I say.”

  “Okay.” Stephen turned, took a few steps, then stopped at the window. “If I put socks on, can Ich geh outside and play in the snow?”

  She drew in a breath and released it slowly. Children rarely thought about chores and duties. But Stephen needed to learn that life wasn’t centered around playtime. One day—much sooner than she wanted to think about—Stephen would be the man of his own home and be the one to bear the burden of responsibilities that came with supporting a fraa and kinner. And without him having a father as a role model, it was her duty to train him up in the Amish way. “We have other things to do today.” She prepared to recite the list of tasks if he challenged her.

  The corners of Stephen’s mouth turned down. As he walked away it broke Jonica’s heart to see his shoulders slump and excitement drain from his body. Perhaps a sweet treat from the market would lift his spirits. Not that she wanted to get into a habit of rewarding him for work, but a surprise now and then wouldn’t spoil him.

  She finished building a teepee of thin slabs of kindling, then touched a match to the paper. The woodbox held only a few logs, not enough to keep a fire going throughout the day, let alone get through the night, but restocking would have to wait until after breakfast. Stephen was hungry, and judging by the sound of a chair scraping against the kitchen floor, Aenti must be restless.

  So much for going into town early. Maybe if she waited a few hours, the weather would let up. If only the sun would come out and melt the snow. She took another peek out the window. Dismal gray clouds stole her hope. Jonica headed back to the kitchen to get breakfast underway.

  “We’re out of eggs,” Aenti said, searching a cabinet from atop the chair.

  “Jah, I used them up yesterday.” Jonica caught the back of the chair as it started to rock and steadied it. “What are you searching for?”

  “A jar. It’s up here somewhere.”

  “It might be easier for me to find it since I’m taller.” And sturdier on mei feet.

  “Found it.” Aenti handed Jonica a Mason jar filled with cash, then climbed down. “We’re out of eggs.”

  “So you said. Where did all this money kumm from?”

  “Some is from selling mei knitting and the rest is from your daed. He sent money every week.” She shrugged. “I don’t have much need. I tried to tell him that, but he said I should save it for a rainy day.”

  Jonica marveled at the discovery. “This is a lot of money, Aenti.”

  “There’s another jar or two in the cellar somewhere. I think I hid that one too well.” She pointed at the container. “Is that enough for what we need?”

  “More than enough.” Jonica wasn’t sure what to think. Her aunt’s cabinets were practically empty, but it wasn’t from lack of funds.

  “I’ve been hungry for a big bowl of oatmeal. Does Stephen like oatmeal?”

  “Jah, he does.” Jonica moved the chair back to where it belonged, then prepared a pot of oatmeal, adding a dash of cinnamon and sugar to the mix.

  They all sat down to eat, but Stephen lost interest in eating after a few bites and picked at his food.

  Jonica studied her son. The pamphlet had listed loss of appetite and weight loss as symptoms. “I thought you were hungahrich.”

  He shrugged.

  She tapped his bowl with her spoon. “I’m nett taking you with me to the grocery store if you don’t eat.”

  Stephen sat up straighter and dug his spoon into the bowl. He finished the oatmeal in a matter of minutes. “Can we geh?”

  “Where is everyone going?” Aenti asked.

  Jonica stood and collected the dirty dishes. “I need to pick up supplies in town. Remember, we made a list of things we need?”

  “I buy mei eggs from Ida Hosteller, milk from the Kauffmans on Leer Road, and bread from The Amish Table. Faith packages mine in half loaves already sliced . . .”

  Her aunt continued, but Jonica only half listened while she filled the sink with water. She planned to buy everything at one place—the Englisch grocery store in town. Yoder’s was closer, but she didn’t mind walking the extra mile if it meant less chance of running into other members of the district. She trusted Caleb to keep her secret. So far he hadn’t asked questions, but others in the district would be much more inquisitive about her, about Stephen, and about knowing why her family left the district. She wasn’t prepared to answer any of those questions.

  “. . . and everything else, I put on mei account at Yoder’s Market.” Aenti came up beside Jonica at the sink and lowered her empty oatmeal bowl and coffee mug into the sudsy water. “Caleb should be here soon. I’ll ask him to give you a ride.”

  “Nay,” she said abruptly. “I want the exercise.”

  Aenti’s brows wrinkled as she studied Jonica with a scrutinizing stare. “How will you manage to carry everything? I sold mei buggy mare.”

  “I noticed an old wagon in the shed yesterday when I went in there to find a rake. I’ll use that.” Up north when the roads iced over and it was too dangerous to take the horses into town, she used a sled. Of course, back then, her mother was home to take care of Stephen.

  Jonica crossed off a few items on the list. They didn’t need five-pound bags of flour and sugar when they could make do with less. Her aunt’s squiggly handwriting was illegible, but assuming it meant canning jars, Jonica scratched that out as well. She gazed out the window. The sun had finally started to melt some of the snow. The pavement would still be wet and most likely the shoulder of the road would be slushy, but the wagon would go through that. And, if necessary, she’d either make multiple trips or maybe wait until later in the week when she could arrange for Beverly, the district’s Englisch driver, to take her shopping.

  Stephen charged into the room holding his coat, hat, and one mitten. “Ich ready.”

  “Leave that stuff on the chair and geh get an extra pair of socks from upstairs.” His boots were large enough that he could probably wear three layers and still have wiggle roo
m for his toes.

  “You’ll need a blanket.” Edna followed Stephen out of the room.

  Jonica pulled the washbasin plug to release the water. She needed heavier leggings to wear under her dress and an extra pair of socks too.

  Once they were both dressed like they were going out into a February blizzard, they headed to the garden shed. Shopping list in hand, Jonica cleared a path, repositioning the wheelbarrow, rakes, and shovels in order to drag the wagon out from the back.

  “Can I help you with that?” asked the redheaded Englischer standing at the door of the shed.

  She jumped at his presence, clutching the list to her chest.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He came closer.

  “I don’t need any help. I can do it by myself.” She gave the wagon handle a hard jerk but it didn’t budge.

  “I think the back wheels are stuck.” He motioned to the handle. “May I?”

  She pulled again. “I can get it.” The contraption didn’t move.

  “Please, let me try.” The man’s eyes filled with compassion, something Jonica usually despised, but this man oozed a sense of comfort and trust that she couldn’t push away. Jonica moved to give him room to work, then signaled Stephen to come stand beside her.

  Mr. Jordan stooped, then freed the wagon from a hose that had been looped around the back wheels. The rusted wheels squeaked as he rolled it out. “Where are you two off to?”

  “We’re going to the store,” Stephen said. “Want to kumm?”

  Jonica cleared her throat. “I’m sure Mr. Jordan has things to do.”

  “Yes, your mother is right.” He produced a small block of wood. “I’m going to turn this into something for you, Stephen.”

  Stephen’s eyes widened. “What will it be?”

  Mr. Jordan shrugged. “Anything you want it to be.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Jonica said. “But Stephen doesn’t need—”