Abigail's New Hope (11 page)

“
Danki
for that. I’m happy to help out until Abby returns.” She looked directly at Laura. “But I must admit, I’m rather poor at reading folks’ minds. So if you will leave notes on what you don’t want touched, I’d be much obliged.” She smiled, displaying a mouthful of gloriously white teeth.

Daniel decided to let the matter drop. It was only day one with their houseguest. As he had no idea how long this arrangement would last, it would be better to not get off on the wrong foot over bacon strips and ripe tomatoes. He ate everything on his plate, including a second helping of buttered noodles so there would be no hard feelings. Women loved to see clean plates.

While Catherine scraped dishes into the slop bucket, Daniel fixed another plate from the leftovers and poured milk into a travel mug. She eyed him nervously. “You’re eating more, brother? I wouldn’t have started clearing the table if you weren’t finished.”

“No, I’m done. I’m fixing this plate for my cousin.” He dumped the rest of the noodles onto the plate and poured her spinach concoction into a small bowl.

“Your cousin? Is he here?” She drew back the curtain and peered out the window toward the driveway.

“He lives out back in a cabin by the river. You can’t see his place from the house. The barn, orchard, and woods block the view.”

Catherine approached, wiping her hands on her apron. “Why didn’t he come up for supper? I would have set another plate.”

Daniel gritted his teeth.
Hopefully, every Graber family custom won’t be brought up for discussion and review
. “He likes keeping to himself. He usually takes his meals on the back porch, but if he spotted you in the yard earlier today, he’ll stay away until full dark.”

Following her perplexed expression, he added, “He’s shy, that’s all. He doesn’t like strangers.” Daniel tucked silverware and a napkin into his back pocket. “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about. Besides, this is the time Abby gets the
kinner
into the bathtub.”

He forced a pleasant smile, snapped a lid on the travel mug, and headed outside before the next round of questions. He knew that telling Catherine to pay something no mind was like telling a thirsty man to ignore an oasis, but because she was Abby’s sister and was doing them a favor, he would try to overlook her constant questions. Daniel had grown accustomed to his wife’s quieter nature, which didn’t have the need to rehash everything to death.

As he walked the well-worn path around the barn and through the orchard toward the river, he knew much of his dissatisfaction was with himself. The look on Abby’s face when they had led her from the courtroom had nearly broken his heart. He didn’t understand what she had done to be charged with a felony. The authorities generally ignored midwifery that was confined to the Amish community. How could they charge her with practicing
medicine
without a license? That was absurd. Did the fact that Mrs. Fisher had died change the situation? Surely they wouldn’t keep Abby locked up until the trial…that could be months from now. His tenderhearted wife wouldn’t last among worldly, hardened criminals. If he had to mortgage his farm to bring her home, then so be it. But her
daed
, their bishop, would have an opinion in the matter.

The slanted rays of the setting sun reflected off Isaiah’s cabin as Daniel rounded the last bend in the path. Early settlers in Wayne County had cleared this patch of land on the bank of the Tuscarawas River and constructed a crude cabin. After his cousin had come to live with them and discovered the ramshackle shack, he had seen possibilities among the cobwebs and entwining grapevines. Isaiah had laid hardwood planking over the original dirt floor and installed double-paned windows purchased from a resale shop. He’d added a wood-burning stove bought at auction for cooking and winter warmth. Cool breezes through the pinewoods stretching high into the hills kept even the hottest July days bearable. His reclusive cousin had dug his own well, built a flagstone fireplace into one wall, and replaced the rotted roof with steel sheeting from the salvage yard. Then he’d crawled onto the roof and painted the metal dark green to blend in with the forest. The bishop probably wouldn’t approve of so fancy a roof, but Isaiah loved the fact that it would last forever.

Daniel knew his practical cousin wasn’t half as simpleminded as folks thought him to be.

“Isaiah?” he called at the clearing, but he heard only the faint rush of the river and birds high overhead. Then Daniel saw his cousin round the back corner of his cabin carrying an armful of firewood. His constant companion, a large yellow dog, loped by his side. Isaiah’s thick, straight hair was combed back from his tanned face and, as usual, his hat was nowhere in sight. With bare feet and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looked more like a Native American from schoolhouse storybooks than an Amish fellow. But he didn’t need to conform exactly to the Plain style of dress because weeks would pass without his seeing anybody other than family members.

He added his load to the neat stack near the front door for his old-fashioned stove. He had no use for the propane Daniel and Abby used at the main house. “Hullo,” Isaiah called with a grin. Daniel was one of the few people the younger man ever tried to communicate with.

“You didn’t come up to the porch for supper,” said Daniel, “so I brought it to you.” He held up the food containers and travel mug.

Isaiah sprinted to the pump to wash while Daniel set out his meal in the outdoor dining room—a rough-hewn picnic table and two handmade benches under the slanted porch roof. Isaiah dried his hands on a gingham towel that hung from a tree branch and slipped onto a bench, graceful as a cat. He could sneak up on a deer and pull her white tail, he moved so silently.

While he bowed his head, Daniel pulled the plastic wrap from the plate. “Sorry about the dried out meal,” he said. “Abby isn’t home. Her younger sister cooked this, but the buttered noodles aren’t too bad.”

Isaiah glanced up quizzically while biting into a piece of chicken.

For some reason, Daniel prattled on whenever he was in his cousin’s company, knowing full well the man couldn’t hear and didn’t understand a word he said. Yet he seemed happier when folks spoke to him—grinning and nodding his head—so Daniel talked whenever they were alone. Isaiah grunted a sound that meant pleasure, so apparently Catherine’s cooking didn’t fall short of the mark for him.

Daniel patted Isaiah’s strong shoulder with affection. “No need to hurry.” He made a slow, undulating motion with his hand. “Bring the dishes up to the house tomorrow.” He touched the plate, bowl, and cup, pointed in the direction of his house, and then toward the sky and made a forward rolling motion that both men took to mean “tomorrow.” They had devised a similar backward movement to indicate “yesterday.” Over the years Daniel and Isaiah had developed their own simple form of communication.

When Isaiah nodded in understanding, Daniel slapped his shoulder once more and started for home. As darkness fell around him, he paused a moment to pray for guidance. With Abby gone, he felt like a boat adrift without anchor or paddle. Now more than ever, he needed to stay strong for the people living here who depended on him.

Catherine watched from the kitchen window as Daniel sauntered off, carrying supper to his mysterious cousin. Shy Amish people might not talk much at meals, but she’d never known any to hide from folks, especially not from their own family. While she washed dishes, wiped down countertops, and swept the floor, her mind invented half a dozen reasons for someone turning into a hermit.

Had he broken the
Ordnung
so grievously that the district had cast him out? District members could not take meals, conduct business, or socialize with those who had been shunned, but they could provide food, shelter, and basic necessities.
Is that what Daniel is doing—providing subsistence to someone who has been shunned?
By the time she had finished cleaning the kitchen, no other explanation seemed logical.

“Laura, Jake, come take a bath,” she called from the doorway to the front room. “Your
daed
said it’s time. Laura, you put the toys away in the box while your
bruder
bathes first.”

Jake scampered to his feet, carrying a yellow rubber toy.

“
Mamm
lets him bring Ducky in the tub,” said Laura, looking pensive.

“Then Ducky can come for a scrubbing too.” Catherine took the boy’s hand, feeling a measure of relief as Laura began tidying the room without a word of argument. Maybe the
kinner
would adjust to her presence quicker than their father.

After Jake was bathed, dressed in his sleep shirt, and headed up the steps with an equally clean duck, Catherine called Laura for her turn in the bathtub. Daniel hadn’t returned from his delivery yet. While the girl splashed around in the bubbles for a few minutes, Catherine started the kettle for tea, watching the back door for his arrival. Fifteen minutes later, her niece padded out in a fresh nightgown and sopping wet hair. Catherine left her window-side vigil to towel dry Laura’s waist length tresses and brush out the tangles.

“Tell me, niece, how old is your cousin who lives out behind the barn?”

The child shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Is he young like you, old like me, or somewhere in between?”

Laura looked up at her and considered. “He’s old like you, but not old like
daed
.”

“Hmm, that’s interesting. Do you know his name?” She glanced into the back hallway.

Laura giggled. “Of course I know his name. It’s Isaiah.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met him,” Catherine said softly, working her fingers patiently through a nasty snarl.

The girl lifted and then dropped her shoulders.

“I wonder why he doesn’t come to preaching services or why I’ve never met him at any social occasion. I don’t think my sister has ever spoken about a cousin living at her farm.” With care, she plied the brush through another tangle, not wishing to cause pain on her first day.

“Abby doesn’t talk about him because there’s not much to say… unless a person is interested in gossip.” Daniel leaned on the door-frame of the back hallway. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he wasn’t smiling.

“Daniel! You startled me. I had been wondering when you would get back.” Catherine finished brushing the child’s long hair and then braided it into a loose plait.

“Put that wet towel in the hamper and go upstairs, daughter. It’s thirty minutes past your bedtime. I’ll be up to say
gut nacht
in a few minutes.” After Laura did as instructed, he turned his hard-edged dark eyes on Catherine. “If you have any questions, ask them of me instead of a six-year-old.”

She stood and walked to the stove while her back arched like a cat. “I was curious as to why you have kept your cousin hidden away in a cabin instead of letting him mingle with other people. Would you like a cup of tea, Daniel? The water’s hot.”

“
Jah
, tea,
danki
.” Daniel walked across the kitchen and settled his tall frame against the counter. “Isaiah isn’t hidden away. He chooses to live by himself down by the river. He’s happy keeping his own counsel without folks asking nosy questions or giving him advice he doesn’t need.”

“Honey or sugar?” she asked, dunking tea bags into both cups.

“Honey, two teaspoons.” His pique changed to an expression of bafflement.

“My, you like things sweet,” she murmured, while measuring the precise amount of honey into his cup. “I asked because I’m filling in for Abby for a while, and I would like to know the number of mouths to feed. And if the arrangement is to set a plate of whatever we’re having on the porch picnic table, or send a hamper of sandwiches tied to a pack mule down the back path, please just let me know.” She handed one cup to him, keeping her gaze locked with his.

Daniel was struggling not to smile as he accepted the cup. “We don’t own a pack mule, Catherine, only Percherons, standardbreds, and one Shetland pony.” He singed his lips when he sipped his tea.