A Simple Charity (11 page)

Will’s lower lip jutted out as he nodded.

The matter of the missing spade was dropped until the next morning, when Zed appeared at the door, hands behind his back.

“Good morning,” Fanny said, looking up from the counter where she was cutting up leftover chicken for a salad. “Would you like coffee?”

“A cup would be nice.” Zed remained in the doorway, looking over at the table where Will and Beth were finishing bowls of cereal. Tommy raised his hands from the tray of his highchair and gurgled a greeting.

Zed touched the baby’s cheek, then turned to the children at the table. “Funny thing happened this morning. I was walking around the back of the carriage house when I found this on the ground.” He held up the spade. Its blade was now orange with rust from sitting in the rain.

Handing Zed a mug, Fanny noticed that Will’s face had turned a rosy shade of pink. “That looks like our spade,” she said. “Doesn’t it, Will?”

The boy crumpled over the table. “It is our spade. I left it out in the rain, and now it’s all rusty. I’m sorry, Mamm.”

“But what about the robber?” Beth asked.

“There was no robber.” Fanny’s gaze remained steady on her son.

“I made that part up, because I knew it was my fault the spade got ruined. I was supposed to put it away.”

“That’s right,” Fanny said. “And now you understand why it’s a sin to lie.”

Will stared into his cereal bowl. “It made my tummy ache. And after I made up one story, I had to keep lying so you wouldn’t find out what I did.”

“My mamm used to tell me that one lie brings the next,” Fanny said.

“And now the spade is ruined,” Will said sadly.

“Maybe not.” Fanny took the hand shovel from Zed. “You see how this part is covered with rust? The rust eats away at the metal. If we don’t get the rust off, it will weaken the blade until one day, it will break. But there’s a way to fix it.” She handed it over to her son. “That will be your chore.”

“How do I do it?”

“White vinegar,” Zed said. “The metal part needs to soak overnight. Then you’ll take a wire brush to it. Go on out and get a bucket and I’ll show you.”

Will dropped down from the table, gripping the spade. Then, like a gust of wind, he blew out of the kitchen. Through the kitchen window, Fanny saw him running toward the shed.

“He got out of here fast,” Zed observed.

“Probably trying to stay ahead of a punishment.” Fanny turned to Zed, grateful for his calming presence. “Thank you. With you showing him how to fix the spade, I think the lesson will stick better.”

“I’m happy to do it.” Zed picked a cherry tomato from the salad and popped it in his mouth. “There’s nothing like a garden tomato.”

She nodded, still concerned about Will. “Sometimes I wonder if Will misbehaves to get extra attention. He never got into trouble before his dat died.”

“That may be true. Or he might just be a normal boy who gets into mischief. If it is about missing Tom, there’s really no way of explaining things to Will, is there?”

She leaned over Tommy to kiss the top of his head. “That’s true. None of us understands Gott’s plan.”

“He’ll be fine.” Zed drank down the last of his coffee. “This home has taught him much about love. He’ll figure out the importance of honesty, too. Now …” He put his mug in the sink. “Do you have any white vinegar?”

As Fanny fetched the vinegar, she realized what a blessing it was to have Zed here for Will’s sake. There was so much a boy needed to learn from a man, and Zed was a willing teacher. They were all benefiting from Zed’s many acts of charity. Gott worked in wondrous ways.

9

T
here was contentment in the rhythm of quilting. Fanny let her hand pause a moment as she gazed fondly over the other women, their white-capped heads bent over the quilt. A cloak of peace had fallen over the garden at the Stoltzfus house, where a quilting bee was in progress. The charity quilt had already been completed, and Lovina had started the women on a second project. Pressing the needle through in short, regular stitches, Fanny looked across the table and noticed Anna Beiler watching her. A curious smile pinched the older woman’s face.

“Such relaxing work, I’m about to doze off,” Fanny said aloud, stifling a yawn. “It’s a good thing you’re back, Anna. It wouldn’t be possible for me to be a midwife and enjoy gatherings like this.”

“There’s plenty of time in the day when I’ve got an empty house at home,” Anna said. “If I’m out late tending to a mother, I take catnaps all day long.”

“Well, I’m relieved to have you back,” said Fanny, “and I know I’m not alone.”

“We all missed you, Anna,” agreed Lovina Stoltzfus, hostess of the event. “How are your daughter and her family?”

Anna told the women about the wedding festivities in the Old Order Amish community where her daughter lived. “Two weddings a week, while I was there,” Anna said. “I was invited to three of them. Wonderful good receptions. But weddings in late June—it just doesn’t seem right.” In most of Lancaster’s Amish communities, November was the traditional month for weddings, but in Ohio, where Fanny had grown up, weddings happened in June and November.

“I think I would like having two wedding seasons in the year.” Lovina’s daughter Annie spoke with a bright smile. “Sometimes, it’s hard to wait until November.”

“Are you telling us you’re waiting?” rasped an elderly woman, Nell King. It was no secret that Annie had been courting Jonah King. “So we can expect a wedding here in November, then.”

A few women chuckled as Annie’s hands flew to her face to hide the rosy blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.

“But I didn’t say that,” Annie insisted. It was traditional for wedding plans to stay within the family until the couple’s engagement was announced in church.

“It’s all right, child,” Anna said. “Anyone with eyes can see that you and Jonah King are two peas in a pod.”

Annie lowered her head in deference to the older midwife, who caught Fanny yawning. “Don’t fall asleep on us now, Fanny.”

“Still catching up on my rest. How do you keep up, Anna? Running here and there, often in the middle of the night.”

“There’s little joy in hitching up a horse in the dark of night,” Anna agreed.

“I know how that goes.” Joan Fisher’s dark brows arched down
in a bad-tempered expression. “We’re out hitching up the buggy most days at three
A.M.
It’s gotten so I can put the harness on with my eyes closed.”

Some of the women chuckled, but Fanny ducked her head and tended to her work. She had learned that it was best to avoid David’s mother—best to dodge his entire family as much as possible. Sometimes it still prickled to be around them—a constant thorn in her side.

When David had died, there had been some talk about his life being spared had he gone into the family bakery; it was verhuddelt talk, as far as Fanny was concerned. The bishop had clamped down on the gossip, but once the word was out, it did its damage like a slug in the garden. Nowadays, Fanny counted her blessings that the bishop had helped her move on from David’s family. Oh, the Fishers had disapproved when she had taken up with Thomas and his children, but once Fanny and Tom had married, their displeasure had faded.

“Baking is an early business,” Lovina commented.

“Early to bed, early to rise.” Joan’s stern brown eyes caught Fanny’s for a moment until Fanny quickly looked down at her stitching. “It’s not a bad way of life.”

“At least you keep regular hours,” said Anna. “I go at all times, in all weather, and I’m not a youngster anymore. I’ve grown weary of fighting winter’s snow and ice. That’s why I think your idea is a good one, Fanny. A birth center that I could walk to, that would be right good.”

A smile welled up inside Fanny at the midwife’s kind words. When Fanny first mentioned the notion to Anna, the older woman had liked the idea, but her stoic expression had left Fanny wondering if Anna would support a birth center.

“What’s that, now?” Lovina asked. “Do you mean a clinic here in Halfway?”

“Not quite,” Fanny answered. “This is just a place for women to have their babies.”

“Our town had a birth center, back in Ohio,” said Mary Yoder. “Most Amish women went there.”

Pausing with her stitching, Fanny explained how her grandmother had converted their Doddy house into a place for women to go to have their babies. “We’d like to do the same with our carriage house, once we get it fixed up. It would be a place for women to come and stay a couple of days.”

“Imagine, getting off your feet for a few days,” Lovina said with wonder in her voice.

“My sister says it’s very good indeed,” added Mary. “Every woman gets a bed and good food and plenty of back rubs for a few days. I wish we had something like that here.”

“You see, Fanny?” Anna peered over her spectacles. “There’s a real need, and you know that business would be good. There’s plenty more babies to be born. I can barely keep up anymore.”

The women were enthusiastic, the conversation brimming over with questions about how it might come to be. Even Joan nodded in agreement. Fanny beamed with pleasure.

“So you can tell Caleb that my husband will lend a hand if he needs help on the carriage house,” Lovina offered. “Aaron is good with repairs.”

“Denki,” Fanny said gratefully. “I’ll tell Caleb about the offer. Right now Zed Miller is doing a lot of the work, and he’s quite handy.”

“Well, that explains one mystery,” said Dorcas Fisher. “I was wondering why Zed Miller is spending so much time at your place.”

“That’s right.” Fanny lifted her gaze cautiously to her former sister-in-law, and then quickly stared back at her stitching. Although Fanny harbored no malice toward Dorcas, she tried to steer
clear of the woman who had dropped her like a hot potato after Fanny went to work for Thomas Lapp, soon after David’s death. Many of the Fishers thought it was disrespectful to David for Fanny to take such a job, but at that time she had no choice. The Fishers had no work for her at the bakery, and she had suddenly found herself a woman alone, without any income. When the bishop had suggested that she care for Tom and his children, Fanny had jumped at the chance to do what she did best—running a household and taking good care of other folk.