Abiding Mercy Page 18

  She pointed to the food on the table. “You best nett fill your belly with sweets until after you’ve had a sandwich or two.”

  He opened his mouth, but closed it when the other men filed into the room. He lined up with the men and began filling his plate.

  Faith waited until everyone selected their food, then put a cheese sandwich and a scoop of potato salad on a plate for Daed. The bishop and several of the elders sat with her father in the sitting room. Their conversation abruptly stopped as she stepped closer. “I brought you a sandwich,” she said, handing her father the plate, fork, and napkin. “Do you want more kaffi?”

  “Nay, danki, daughter.”

  “Let me know if I can get you anything else.” Faith left the room. She hoped having company, even if only for an hour or so before the men returned to the fields, would help lift Daed’s spirit. Being confined to the house had made him antsy. He wouldn’t be happy again until he was able to do his own chores.

  Several of the men, including Gideon, took their meal and went outside to sit under the shade tree. Now she wished she hadn’t fired up the stove to make cookies. Even with the windows open the kitchen blazed with heat, though she shouldn’t complain. Summer went by too fast. Soon the wintery chill, and the challenge to keep the house warm, would make her wish for summer again.

  Faith filled the sink with soapy water and lowered the dirty dishes into the basin. Once she cleaned the kitchen, she planned to do laundry, then pull weeds in the garden.

  Gideon entered the kitchen with a stack of plates and set them on the counter beside her. “I thought I’d bring these in. Danki for lunch.”

  “You’re welkum. Are you heading back to the field?”

  “Jah, but I didn’t want to forget mei cookie.” He snatched one off the cooling rack and took a bite. “Tastes gut.”

  “Would you like another one?”

  “I’ll wait.” He grinned. “It’ll give me an excuse to see you again.” He turned to leave, but paused at the entrance. “Would you be interested in going for a walk with me after the evening chores are done?”

  “Jah, that would be nice.”

  “Okay.” He left the kitchen.

  Faith gazed out the window as she washed dishes, her focus on Gideon as he strode across the field to join the others. He picked up a pitchfork, his strong shoulders working the hay. She still had a hard time believing he wanted to spend time with her, the tallest, gawkiest girl in the district. But Gideon had never once teased her or questioned her, like others had done in the past, about why she was taller than her parents, taller than her sister. A strand of stray hair fell out from the kapp. Or why she had frizzy, coarse hair, when Olivia’s hair was silky smooth. Faith tucked the strand back under the kapp, then focused on the dishes. Once she finished the kitchen, she gathered dirty clothes from the bedrooms.

  “I’m going to do some laundry, unless you’d rather I stay and keep you company?”

  Daed turned away from the window and faced her. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “Would you like me to get you anything before I go out to the washhaus?”

  “I’m all set, danki.”

  Faith hesitated. She didn’t like leaving him alone in the house. Knowing him, he might try to move around on his own. Then again, the clothes needed washing and it might rain tomorrow. She picked up the wicker basket of laundry and headed outside. Her gaze drifted over to the workers. The wagon was almost full. They’d be hauling it to the barn soon.

  Inside the washhaus felt hot and stuffy. Faith set the basket down next to the wringer washer, then grabbed two buckets and went to the pump. Washing clothes went faster when she, Olivia, and Mamm were doing it together. After several trips to the pump, the laundry tub was full. Scrubbing ketchup and mustard stains out of her work dresses then wringing out excess water from the garments made her muscles throb, but she worked fast. She wanted everything done before Mamm came home.

  As she hung the clothes on the line to dry, Beverly Drombrowski’s car pulled into the driveway and Mamm got out, the restaurant ledger in her hand. Faith clipped a dress on the line, then waved at their Englisch friend who was turning the car around. She met her mother in the driveway. “Were you able to get the records caught up?”

  Mamm nodded, then directed her attention to the field. “Looks like they’re finishing up. It’ll be a relief when the hay is in the barn,” she said, her voice sounding strained.

  “Jah, it will.” Every year her father fretted over the weather. Cut hay needed time to dry, but leaving it too long carried the risk of it getting rained on. Since wet hay tended to mold, and moldy hay was dangerous for the horses, Daed’s concerns were justified.

  “I’m going inside to check on your father,” Mamm said, lumbering up the porch steps.

  Faith continued hanging the laundry, stealing glimpses of Gideon when she could. When she had finished hanging the clothes, she went inside.

  Mamm halted her words midsentence and snapped the ledger book closed when Faith entered the living room.

  Faith chewed her lip as she went into the kitchen. She’d overheard enough to know the restaurant books hadn’t balanced.

  Chapter 24

  Faith inched toward the wall which separated the kitchen from the sitting room. She leaned forward and pressed her ear against the wall to listen to her parents’ hushed conversation. Her mother’s fragile tone raised alarms as to the seriousness of the issue.

  “How are we going to pay the hospital and doktah’s bills?”

  “We’ll figure it out, Irma,” Daed said calmly.

  “But the restaurant isn’t doing as well as we thought. According to the record books, we’ve lost money. I haven’t been a gut steward of what God has given us.”

  “Nay, please don’t say that. It might be a simple bookkeeping mistake. Remember when your numbers were off a few years ago and it took us four days to figure out what was wrong?”

  “I remember,” Mamm muttered.

  “Then think on those things. It’ll work out for the gut. Watch and see.”

  Heaviness filled Faith’s chest, a crushing weight of indecision. She should tell her parents about the money Olivia had stashed away in the barn. But if she did, her sister would probably never talk to her again. Olivia hardly talked to her now as it was. Still . . . Lord, I need wisdom.

  “Besides,” her father continued, “the doktah doesn’t want you overdoing it.”

  Hadn’t Mamm been discharged in good health?

  A car door slammed. Faith slipped into the kitchen and peered out the window. She recognized the blue four-door truck as the one Daed’s physical therapist drove. Mamm greeted the Englischer at the door, welcoming him inside.

  Faith wet a dishrag and washed the already clean counter.

  Mamm entered the kitchen a few minutes later, eyes hooded and shoulders slumped. She placed the ledger on the table, ran her finger over the frayed cloth cover, and frowned.

  Lord, I need to know what to do, what to say. “Mamm, would you like me to make you a cup of tea?”

  She shook her head. “It’s already too hot. Making a fire to brew a cup of tea would only make it worse.”

  “True.” Faith smiled. “I’ll put a jar of sun tea on the porch.” She removed a large pickle jar from the cabinet, filled it with water, then added several tea bags. She scooped up the jug. “I’ll be right back.” The tea wouldn’t be ready for hours, but her mother looked as though she needed a few minutes alone.

  Faith took the jar outside and set it on the bottom porch step where the sun would hit it, then meandered over to the clothesline. She touched each garment, making her way down the line while sneaking a peek at the work going on in the barn. Gideon was busy, his back to her. The dresses and towels were still wet. Daed’s shirts felt dry, but she might as well wait until everything was ready and bring them all in together. She decided to spend a few minutes working in the garden.

  She squatted between two rows of tomato
es and grabbed a fistful of weeds. Usually garden work allowed a means to release stress and think through her problems, but today she couldn’t think of anything but the conversation she had overheard between her parents. What was wrong with Mamm’s health? Was “not overdoing it” something doktahs instructed everyone they sent home from the hospital? She yanked more weeds and tossed them on the pile. Lost in concentration, she hadn’t paid much attention to the men leaving the barn. Now she saw that buggies rolled down the driveway and turned onto Leer Road one by one. Except for Gideon’s. His horse was still tied under the tall oak, swatting flies away with his tail.

  Gideon waited for the others to leave before strolling across the lawn to where Faith was working in the garden. She lifted her head as he approached and smiled.

  “We finished putting up the hay,” he said.

  “So I see. Danki.” Faith’s attention shifted to something behind him.

  Gideon followed her gaze. Irma and the therapist stood on the porch, talking too low to overhear, but deep lines wrinkled her mother’s forehead. “Do you think everything’s okay?”

  Faith seemed to be studying her mother.

  “Faith?” He touched her arm and she jerked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She offered a faint smile, then swiped the tears away from the corners of her eyes, smearing dirt on her face.

  He moved closer. “What is it? Why are you crying?”

  The Englischer’s car door closed and the engine roared to life.

  “I can’t talk about it,” she said softly.

  “Is it about your father?”

  She shook her head and choked down emotion as the therapist drove away.

  “About the Englischer?”

  “Nay!”

  He took a step back. “I shouldn’t pry. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry I snapped.” Faith gathered ripe tomatoes in her turned-up apron, but soon she had more than she could carry.

  “I’ll get a bucket.” Gideon jogged to the barn and when he returned, he helped her transfer the tomatoes.

  She moved on to the pole beans. The long hours she had spent at the restaurant and her mother being away was evident in the overgrowth of weeds. Gideon squatted down and began pulling them up by the roots. He stopped, hearing Faith sniffling a few rows over. “Are you all right?”

  “Jah.”

  He pretended not to notice the tracks of tears coursing down her cheeks. He picked weeds in silence. Lord, what can I do? I hate to see her sad—I hate even more that she doesn’t feel comfortable talking about what’s bothering her.

  “The Amish Table lost money the past couple months. More than what was stolen,” Faith blurted. “I’m sure mei parents don’t want me talking about it—they actually didn’t even share that news with me—I overheard it.” She blinked several times, releasing a string of tears. “I had to tell someone. Please don’t repeat anything I’ve said.”

  “I won’t.” He decreased the distance between them.

  “On top of the restaurant nett doing well, the hospital bill came in the mail today, and apparently—” She covered her hand over her mouth and shook her head as if to say what he already knew, that she couldn’t continue talking about it.

  “You don’t have to say any more.” He reached out and clasped her elbow. “Things will work out. You have to have faith—Faith,” he said with a smile.

  She rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. “I feel helpless.”

  “Did you tell them about Olivia?”

  “Nay.” Faith opened her mouth, but closed it tight enough for her jaw muscles to twitch.

  “I know you don’t want to get Olivia in trouble,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “But you have to tell your parents. They deserve to know.”

  Faith nodded.

  Gideon could see the turmoil in Faith’s eyes; she wasn’t able to rat out her sister. Perhaps pushing her to do so was wrong. The bishop could break the news; maybe he could persuade Olivia to do the right thing and give the money back to her parents.

  Gideon dusted the dirt off his knees. “Can we take a walk another time? I have a few things I need to do before milking time.”

  Faith shuffled to the house carrying the vegetables she’d picked. Opening the door, she heard her mother’s muffled sob.

  Mamm looked up from where she sat next to Daed, her eyes red and puffy. She wiped them with a wadded tissue. “I didn’t hear you kumm in, Faith.”

  “I picked the ripe tomatoes.” She pretended not to notice the grief-stricken expression on Mamm’s face. “I thought we could put a batch up for winter?”

  “That’s a gut idea.”

  “I’ll get them started.” She took the bucket into the kitchen and emptied it into the sink. Turmoil riled her stomach. Gideon was right. Her parents deserved to know about Olivia’s hidden money.

  A few moments later, Mamm came into the kitchen. She removed the canning pots from the bottom cabinet, filled them with water, then sank the jars into the deeper pot and the lids into the smaller one.

  As the water heated on the stove, Faith cleaned the tomatoes. Gideon’s words replayed in her mind. “They deserve to know the truth.”

  “The restaurant should be doing better than it is,” Faith said. “If we hadn’t been robbed . . .” Or Olivia hadn’t taken money from the till.

  “Honey, the robbery wasn’t your fault.”

  “I didn’t lock the door immediately.”

  “The important thing is that you weren’t hurt. I’m so grateful—so thankful.”

  “I was glad Gideon was there. After the robbery, he insisted on taking me home each nacht.”

  Mamm placed the clean tomatoes into the strainer. “You and Gideon seem to be spending a lot of time together. Of course, he’s a fine man, and we’ve certainly appreciated how well he’s kept up with your father’s chores.”

  Faith heard the but coming and stiffened.

  The lines across her mother’s forehead deepened. “There was a time, nett all that long ago, when I thought Olivia and Gideon might get married.”

  The tomato squished in Faith’s hand, spilling its juices into her palm.

  “Handle them gently,” Mamm instructed.

  Faith nodded and washed more tomatoes in silence. She’d helped wash tomatoes ever since she was old enough to stand on a stool and reach the sink. She and her mother never worked in silence. Faith wanted to say more about Olivia, but decided it best to change the subject. “Did the physical therapist leave early today?”

  “This was his last day.”

  Excitement bubbled up within Faith. “He’s improved that much? That’s wunderbaar!”

  Mamm turned her attention to the boiling pot of water. “This is ready for the tomatoes nau.”

  Faith plopped tomatoes one at a time, taking care not to get burned by the boiling water when it shot over the sides and sizzled on the stove’s cast-iron surface.

  “Daed’s leg still needs time to heal.”

  Blanching only required a minute or two and afterward, dipping the tomatoes into cold water helped the skins to come off easier. Faith watched the tomatoes roll over in the boiling water. “I overheard you talking with Daed about the books being off at the restaurant,” she admitted.

  “You were listening!”

  Faith glanced up momentarily but, seeing her mother’s furrowed brows, received the message loud and clear not to meddle. “I haven’t been a gut steward of what God has given us,” her mother’s words replayed. Bringing up Olivia now would only add to Mamm’s guilt.

  “I wish there was something I could do,” Faith said.

  “Please, honey, don’t concern yourself with those worries. The Lord will provide.”

  Faith set down the tomato. “I’ll be right back.” She clambered up the stairs to her bedroom. Inside the top dresser drawer, she removed the jar full of money she’d been saving, then returned to the kitchen. “It isn’t much,” she said, handing it to her mother.

&nb
sp; “What is this?”

  “Money I was saving to buy Christmas gifts.”

  Mamm stared at the cash, tears pooling in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Faith smiled. “Merry Christmas—in August.”

  “You are very kind, daughter. Danki, so much.”

  “I wish I had more to give.” One hundred two dollars and forty-eight cents wouldn’t pay the hospital bill, nor would it get the restaurant out of the red. If only she had more to give. Olivia has more—a lot more. But Faith refused to add to Mamm’s sorrow. She would have to come up with another way to raise money. Maybe sell pies or cookies. Mamm had people approach her before about catering weddings and special events in the area . . . Faith’s thoughts jumbled as she made a mental list of possibilities. Then she recalled the Englischer who took pictures for his newspaper article.

  “Mamm, while you and Daed were in the hospital, Olivia and I didn’t cook at home. I took the eggs into work each morning so they wouldn’t spoil. Well, one day a man asked about the food and he even took pictures for an article he was writing.”

  Mamm frowned at the mention of pictures, but Faith continued.

  “He seemed impressed that I had collected the eggs that morning. Apparently very few restaurants serve anything that fresh. He said we could charge more for that.”

  Mamm’s expression relaxed. “That’s certainly something to think about.”

  “Maybe we could start by increasing the number of laying hens we have,” Faith said.

  “Tell me more about the pictures he took. You weren’t in them, were you?”

  “Nay. I told him we don’t believe in having our photos taken. He only took pictures of the food, which he said was so good that he wanted seconds.”

  “Two meals?” Mamm’s mouth dropped open.

  “I was surprised too.” Faith chuckled as she dipped the tomatoes into the cold water. “I have his business card at the restaurant. He jotted down on the back of the card a few possible dates the article might appear.”

  A flicker of hope returned in Mamm’s eyes, which pleased Faith.