A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) (18 page)

“I am worried. You’re shaking.”

Abigail stared down at her hand, held it out in front of her in the sunlight, as if it were a fault in a blanket she were knitting.

“You don’t have to keep things from me. I’d rather know.”

“It started a few days ago,” Abigail said, no real alarm in her voice. “It’s the most curious thing. Comes and goes.”

She tucked her hand back in her shawl.

“Are you ill?”

As usual, Abigail took her time answering. “I don’t think I am, Miriam. But your father’s concerned.”

“Why? Why is he concerned?” Miriam’s mind searched for anything he might have said, and landed on the day she’d stopped by when she’d asked how her mother was feeling and he’d said, “
Gut
. Today is a
gut
day.” Did that mean she had bad days? How bad?

“Why is he concerned,
mamm
?”

“Because I’ve lost more weight.”

“We’ve all noticed that.” Miriam tried to keep her voice low and quiet, though she felt anything but calm. Suddenly it seemed that her mother might collapse right in front of her eyes as they walked back toward the house. “Do you have any other symptoms?”

“
Nein
.”

“There’s the shaking.”

“Which just started,” Abigail pointed out. She sighed in frustration. “I’ve tried several of my herbs, including yerba mate, which is proven to reduce fatigue.”

Miriam could feel her teeth grinding together.

“It doesn’t seem to be helping, though. I still tire more easily than I should, but we have to remember I am older now.”

“
Mamm
! You’re not even sixty.”

“No. I’m not.” Abigail chose her words carefully as they walked into the sitting room.

Miriam laid Rachel on the couch and began the process of changing her diaper.

“I have an appointment to see the doctor on Tuesday,” Abigail admitted.

“Doc Hanson?”

“Yes.”

Miriam cleaned up Rachel, grateful she’d put disposable diapers on her for the trip. “What do you think is wrong?”

“I don’t know, honey. Whatever it is, if it’s anything, God won’t be surprised by it. We don’t have to be worried. And maybe it’s nothing.”

Once she was changed, Rachel began rooting, so Miriam settled her at her breast. Nursing her always brought a sense of calm, and it did so now. As she watched, her mother picked up her quilting and began the top stitching on a crib quilt. The quilt was for the baby her sister-in-law Anna was expecting. The familiar routine further quieted her worries.

They remained that way for some time, until Joshua and Gabe and Grace came in, bringing their laughter with them. Soon they were joined by her younger brother Simon and his new wife, Emma. It occurred to Miriam that they would probably be adding more grandchildren to the family in the next year or so. Grace and Rachel would have more cousins to play with, and Abigail and Joshua would have another
boppli
around.

Like many Amish families, theirs was a large one and growing larger daily, it seemed, but they all drew strength and comfort from one another.

Surely whatever was wrong with Abigail, they could face as a
family. Watching her brother hold Rachel, she thanked God for the people around her.

It didn’t erase the worry that had taken root in Miriam’s heart, but it helped that they were together, surrounded by one another, her
mamm
’s soft humming of a Sunday hymn easing her fears.

Chapter 15

G
abe would have liked to work behind his plow Monday morning. The sun actually broke through the clouds, which had him clomping around the southern section of the farm, caking mud on his boots and generally wasting time.

“How long until you can begin to work in the fields?” Miriam asked when she brought him a thermos of hot
kaffi
to the barn.

“Two more days, maybe three.” Gabe frowned as he ignored the
kaffi
and whacked his hammer against a two-by-four. Gus had managed to escape his enclosure next to Snickers, Gabe’s workhorse. Sometime during the night, he’d caused quite a ruckus in the barn, turning over benches, getting into feed, and finally butting his head through one of the older stall doors Gabe had been intending to replace.

“Miriam, do you think you could find a recipe for donkey stew?”

Gus brayed loudly from outside the barn, where he’d been put in a time-out.

“Hmm. I might have to ask Rae to look that one up on the Internet. Don’t believe my
mamm
’s cookbooks have donkey stew.”

“They would if she’d ever had a donkey like Gus!” Gabe slammed the hammer down harder than necessary, and the wall vibrated from the force of the blow.

Miriam cocked her head and studied him.

Gabe had seen that look before, and he chose to ignore it. The last thing he needed was analyzing by a woman. He knew when he was acting like a fool. He didn’t need someone else reminding him. This blasted weather was making him crazy.

He needed to plant his corn. He had stacks of seed waiting to go into the ground, a bright sunny day, and here he was stuck mending walls in the barn.

Pulling the hammer back, he slammed it into the barn partition one more time. When metal met wood, it sent a satisfying jolt up his arm. Wasn’t quite as good as field work, but apparently for today it would have to do.

Glancing up, he realized Miriam was still waiting.

“Was there something else you needed?”

“
Nein
. Nothing else I needed.”

He nodded. She wasn’t one to hang about the barn. Rachel had been fine that morning. Grace was off to school.

“Something someone else needed?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

She turned over a pail and plopped down on it, reminding him of a schoolgirl, bringing his first smile of the day. He was fortunate to have such a beautiful
fraa
.

“I was thinking of our new friends,” she said. “You’ve done more than is necessary to help Aaron. You probably don’t have another day to spend hitching up Chance and driving the buggy around on errands. I’d go myself, but I have wash on the line, and I couldn’t load the items Aaron needs anyway.”

Gabe glanced up and looked out the barn door to where the sky was blue. If he couldn’t be in the fields, at least he could be out of the barn. He studied his wife. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but if it gets me out of this barn, I’m for it.”

“
Ya?
”

“
Ya
. I believe I’ve fastened this well enough to hold Gus tonight.”

They both turned to look at the enclosure Gabe had hammered
together. He’d doubled-layered the two-by-fours, first one direction, then the other.

“I believe that would hold Clemens Schmucker’s biggest bull,” Miriam said.

Laughter broke out of Gabe at that. There had been a time when Clemens Schmucker had tried to warn him away from Miriam. Though the man was Amish, he wasn’t exactly humble. He was one of the most prosperous farmers in the Cashton area, and he didn’t mind other folks knowing about it. He’d apparently hoped his son Aden and Miriam would one day marry, and though the father often rubbed Gabe the wrong way, Aden had been instrumental in helping to find Grace when she was lost in a winter storm the year before.

Aden now lived in a more liberal neighboring district. He and Gabe had actually become
gut freinden
.

“I suppose it might hold Clemens’ prize bull.” Gabe stood and stretched. “Now tell me about this errand of yours, woman.”

Miriam’s plan was a good one, and something he should have thought of himself. Something he probably would have thought of, except he was too busy focusing on what he couldn’t accomplish that day.

Thirty minutes later, Chance was hitched to the buggy, and Gabe was on his way to the first of five stops, Miriam’s list in his pocket.

The meeting with Aaron on Saturday had ended with the decision to offer Amish-made goods at the cabins, but they hadn’t come up with a more detailed plan beyond that. Aaron had given them all leeway to begin collecting goods to sell at the cabins. He’d even instructed them on how many of each item he’d need. He was going into town to wire for additional money to reimburse everyone, and they would meet back at the cabins throughout the week. In the meantime, Aaron would continue working on repairs.

Miriam had given Gabe a list of five homes between their farm and the cabins where the families made and sold items.

She’d also put a star by the three families on the list who were currently selling items at Drake’s Amish Anthem. How his wife knew that, he had no idea. Maybe she remembered details better than he did. Or maybe he’d been too busy gawking at what Byron Drake had done.

Gabe knew all of the families on the list, some better than others, and he had no problem finding the name Miriam had written at the top of the paper. The farm was located three miles down the road. A hand-lettered sign proclaiming “Rugs for Sale” hung out by the roadside. Two older girls were hanging fresh laundry—sheets that stretched down the length of the clothesline.

Floyd walked out of the barn to meet him as he pulled up, and raised a hand in greeting. “Your fields too wet to work?”

“
Ya
. Nearly lost my boots in them trying to walk from end to end.”

Staring out at his fields, Floyd pulled on his beard, worry coloring his voice. “We’re counting on this year’s crop to be a
gut
one. Wouldn’t mind it if things would dry out real quick.”

Gabe considered that a moment. He didn’t know a lot about the Hershbergers. Their only son was some years older than Grace. Several girls were already out of school and close to marrying age.

“Miriam sent me over,” Gabe explained. “I wanted to talk to you about the rugs you sell if you and Barbara have a minute.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Floyd turned toward the house. “Suppose we do. Barbara and the girls are doing laundry. I’m hiding out in the barn trying to stay out of the way.”

It was a sentiment Gabe understood too well. Spring turning to summer was his favorite time of year, but it was a time meant for work. When they were hindered by weather, it made everyone jumpy. The list of what needed to be done grew longer, and the time to accomplish it shortened.

Perhaps it was
Gotte
’s way of teaching them patience. As Gabe
followed Floyd into the steamy kitchen, he hoped any divine lesson would be a short one. He was ready to get on with the planting.