Abram's Daughters 03 The Sacrifice (25 page)

He' there, his darling had said on her deathbed. When the ,nii/ calls you, be ready. Saint that she was . . . Ida had put up vnIi him all these years.

1 Ic said his good-byes to Mary Ruth and pressed his black i H down hard on his head. Leaning into the frosty evening, i> made haste to return to Leah, Hannah, and his little ones.

I i >n the way, he recalled Ida's funeral and burial service. It many people had come to bid a fond farewell. Even Dr. Itii'l Mrs. Schwartz and their elder son, Robert, had come to

I1 iy respect. They, along with other Englishers, including

1 l.i 11 y and Lorraine's neighbor, Mrs. Ferguson; Mrs. Kraybill, Lh.i'd taken Hannah and Mary Ruth to the Georgetown p> I nuil in her car all those years; and Mrs. Esbenshade, a frel|iirni customer of their roadside stand.

I ,Siic/i a time to bury someone . . . in the cold and miserablewtnind, he thought, lamenting that his wife had to pass away In iii'iir Christmas. Too near ...

237

iP*238

For all his remaining days on the earth, Abram would regret not having insisted on calling for the Hexedokder. Any hex doctor would have known what to do to turn the baby within Ida; the awful bleeding could have been stopped, no matter how far his wife had slipped away. But Ida had made her most holy choice, her final stand she who had rejected the powwow practices all their married life. Even unto death, he'd wrongly let her have her say.

531

'it a

239v-n-

4-es-t I it>-&-*v 4-if--

v & &

I leiviiifj; cold temperatures lingered through January. Roads In'iiuiic miserably icy and snow-packed as one blizzard folli iwcd another, with grooves from horse-drawn sleighs and the > n r.isional buggy becoming deeper and harder to avoid as the liiys wore on. Power lines up and down White Oak Road were weighed down by thick ice, causing power outages for l'n^lishers in a radius of several miles. But the lack of electricity did not affect Leah and her family, nor their surrounding Ainish neighbors.

Leah was thankful for Dat's unexpected willingness to .illow Mary Ruth a weekly visit on Saturday mornings, since

I1 ^nve her opportunity to continue working at Dr. Schwartz's ilinic once a week. The doctor reacted kindly when Leah 'ihnred her predicament, wholeheartedly approving the hours best suited for her. "We don't want to lose you," he told her, to which Lorraine agreed emphatically.

"If you're ever in a jam, you can always bring the little ones here," she'd said. "I'll gladly entertain them."

Harder than juggling her life with its added responsibilities

240 =/_ e us i s

was the gnawing within the intense knowing that it w;is imperative for her to find some sensible resolution to the problem of her promise to Mamma . . . and her betrothal to Gid. She had been somewhat relieved that he had seemed to understand how important her vow to Mamma was how critical it would be day to day and year by year.

With that in mind, she agreed to talk privately with him when Gid knocked on the kitchen door one afternoon. Cordially they talked things out every which way in the stillness of the barn, only for Gid to conclude they must go their separate ways, releasing her from her betrothal promise.

Such a hopeless situation. Gid's right about this, Leah thought, dread filling her soul. Yet she knew for sure her husband would have felt terribly trapped, surrounded by an extended family he had no say about and having to kowtow to Dat on a daily basis.

In the very place where they had spent so many hours working together, tending to the farm animals' needs, Gid removed his black hat and reached for her hand. Struggling to speak, he said softly, "'Tis such a hard thing ... I'm ever so sorry. Truly, I am." His eyes were intent on hers. "One thing's sure." His voice grew stronger. "You have my truest friendship, Leah for as long as ya live."

"And you have mine, too. For always." She choked back tears. "We'll . . . see each . . . other, jah?" she sputtered, realizing how awkward it would be to occasionally bump into him. .:

"As good friends . . . you can count on that." She felt ever so blue as they parted, and then again a few hours later, when the finality of his decision and their good-

240

nth *i 241

acritice

prink her anew as she stood at the window and saw him BtH! 11 n- harnyard, heading for home. He caught her eye Uttivci I i' > her, but she couldn't mistake the look of despair

11in fiur.

I hen and there, she believed the best thing to ward off

I -!" misery for them both was not to interact at all, though Muldn'i be easy, since Gid was still working part-time for

( I Ik- winter season while the ground was resting would iIn- simplest time to maintain a distance. The spring and "Hut plowing and planting, along with the fall harvest,

ili I he much more awkward, since Gid would be quite vis-

mi i he property.

hi ibe dismal expression on Gid's usually cheerful face

Ic Leah want to turn away. Yet it wasn't anyone's fault

ii had become of them, really. After all, she couldn't help

i she had been the one Mamma asked to raise her babies;

ivas lor Leah to accept her lot with a smile. Truly, she

iMn'r imagine otherwise ... for the sake of the children.

I Gid kept his hands busy every day except the Lord's Day

Uo his loss of Leah wouldn't overtake him. He spent each wak-

[JiiK minute shoeing horses or clearing out the fencerow of

fhiiiiill trees. Diligently tending to another new litter of

t ifi man shepherd pups also took plenty of time, as did prun-

ini: his father's grapevines, keeping up with chores for Abram,

in ul doing whatever Dawdi Mathias needed done over at his

place.

He could not be angry with Abram for wanting to raise

241 242Id e 0 e r I y J~^ e im> I s .

his own children. It just wasn't in him. Leah was doing the right thing by her little sister and brother . . . the right thing by Ida, too. Under God, Gid couldn't fault her or Abrani, neither one, although he suspected Abram no longer felt an urgency for Leah to marry, not with a healthy baby boy growing up under the Ebersol roof. Once Abe reached the age of five, he would be out helping his father. Wouldn't be but ;i few short years and Abram's little boy would find the fieldwork he was meant for.

Still, Leah was the kind of girl Gid had always wanted to marry someone who loved the soil and didn't mind getting her fingernails dirty, who even helped with plowing and planting some if need be. If he hadn't had his heart so set on her since youth, this setback wouldn't be as devastating. He suspected Leah had never quite committed herself to him not as she had to Jonas so long ago.

He was in love with a girl he could never have. Quite stuck, he had marked time for much too long and was now nearing the limit on age for attending Sunday night sing' ings too late to ever hope to find a Leah replacement, if that were even possible.

So Gid toiled long and hard, hoping to lose himself in his labor, burying his lifelong wish to take Leah as his belovedwife. :: .;i: ; *'.' ' '" ' '"

Now and again Abram insisted on helping with some of the baby-related chores, things he knew Leah was altogether surprised about, such as holding out the towel and drying off

242

: !. h ' !

I HI- I* I243

Jil luihy son after a warm bath. Once Abe was dressed for the

HlMht In his miniature white nightclothes, Abram put his face

'Fl l'ighl close and talked to him. He told his infant boy all

iill his deceased mamma as the sleepy bundle lay quietly in

iirin.s, whispering, too, what Abe's new mamma had given

. lo cure for him and Lydiann. He figured since Ida was gone,

l.' It*list he could do was spend plenty of after-supper time

'ill l.yiliann and Abe, which was a most pleasant task. Fact

11, lu' wished now he'd done the same with his older daugh-

11 when they were small.

|k One such evening following a meal of pork chops and ^HCU'y rice, he took Abe from Leah while she and Hannah ^H the dishes. Dawdi John and Lizzie were with him around ^B wood stove while he balanced both youngsters on his lap. ^M I ydiann giggled when he tickled her nose with the length ^HUs soft beard.

^M "Do it to Abe," Lydiann said playfully. ^B When he did, his beard made Abe, who was lying in the ^kgth of his lap, sneeze.

^H "Do it again!" Lydiann said, her eyes bright, even mischie^Us. For a fleeting moment he seemed to be looking into Hdle's little-girl eyes. "Dat . . . will ya?" ^M Sighing, he was more careful to be gentle this time and ^Id the back of his infant son's hand up to his own face. ^ften, moving his head slightly, he tickled Abe, much to ^Ui; inn's delight and to his own.

H 11 was as Abram chuckled and played with his wee ones Hiii he caught Leah's eye across the kitchen. For the first time H many weeks, his heart was full, gladdened beyond words.

244

ly J2e

--

As the winter days wore on, Leah and Hannah took turns caring for the babies, trading off working outside with Dat to grease and mend the harnesses. Smithy Gid and Thorn; is Ebersol were out slaughtering meat animals at both the Peachey and Jesse Ebersol farms, which meant Leah felt moriat ease to go about her chores. Knowing she wouldn't run inti i Gid made her feel at once relieved and as blue as could be.

The occasional sound of red-winged blackbirds reminded her of previous rambles to visit her "piece of earth" and the rare thornless honey locust tree growing deep in the forest behind Aunt Lizzie's log house. But she dared not return there lest she be reminded of her first love and the many letters written to him.

The excitement of upcoming March farm sales brought plenty of chatter from Dat and Dawdi John, especially ;il mealtime. Even Hannah seemed happy about going along this year, one of the first times Leah remembered her younger sister being interested in such community events. Leah would miss seeing what machinery, cattle, household items, and odd* and ends were up for sale, as well as the occasional entire farm on the auction block. Men, women, and children attended, and sometimes the schools closed for the day. It was a won derful'good time to see dozens of cousins and lifelong friends and anticipate the coming spring, but this year Leah knew hoi place was snug at home with Lydiann and Abe. Truth be known, she much preferred to be with them than spending all day at a farm sale, anyway.

How things had changed. She contemplated the faci

245Cne (Sacrifice

llr peeling potatoes on a Wednesday afternoon at the end IM'iuiiry, recalling the many years she'd rushed out to milk I i uvVB cuch day at four o'clock, before suppertime. Today I ulitticed at the day clock, thinking ahead to Dat bringing I 11 iwi home. What a cozy, even warm spot the barn was ih I lie animals all inside, waiting for their supper of silage n Mi'illn. Even on a bitter cold day like today, Leah missed (ill I mm to the animals, their breath warming the air. The ril ( inil had certainly handpicked a pleasant place for His m in In- born. . .

|P * 'ii ;i Saturday in mid-March Leah went on foot to the

IMii' , having arranged for Mary Ruth to spend a full day

I il >v !) 1 ing Abe and Lydiann, Walking up the sidewalk to the

i" mi entrance, she noticed a small white handkerchief. When

1 > Nlooped to pick it up, she was surprised to see Sadie's but-

ifly handkerchief, the one with the embroidered cutwork.

V\v,\\ on earth?" she muttered, carrying it inside.

I h. Schwartz was shuffling through paper work when she

' !-' '.I at eight-thirty that morning, so she set to work sweep-

"i: .n id washing the floors, dusting, and then shaking out all

'I> nigs, deciding not to bother him just yet. But around

>iik fifteen, before the few Saturday patients were scheduled

.ii i ivc, she knocked on his open office door.

I 11' looked up, smiled, and waved her inside. "Pull up a

iMiir, Leah." She removed the handkerchief from her pocket. "I found us lying on the walk. It belonged to my older sister."

246

His smile faded quickly, and he was silent for a long awk ward moment. When he spoke, his voice sounded low and somewhat strained. "Are you sure of this?"

"Completely," she replied. "This is the hankie my sisin placed over her dead baby's face the night you delivered him." She paused a moment to breathe. Then she added, "I'm sine you remember, Dr. Schwartz, because, if you don't mind my sayin' so, it was your grandson born and died that April night, ain't?" She found his expression odd so peculiar, in fact, that she felt queasy. "It's the only handkerchief Hanna 11 ever made like this. A special one indeed."

"Well, if it's Sadie's, as you say, I wonder how it found ii.s way to the ground," he said rather defensively.

"I thought you might've tucked it in with the dead . . . baby whatever it is a doctor does with a blue baby born to< > early." Right then, in a rush of memory, Sadie's heartbreaking labor and delivery came to her and caught her off guard. Leah couldn't go on not this close to Mamma's death. Her heari felt suddenly cold, her nerves shot. She didn't know how she would manage the cleaning tasks ahead of her. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "That awful night still pains me so."

Dr. Schwartz reached out his hand, as though attempting to comfort her from where he sat. "Leah, you are correel about your sister's baby being mine and Lorraine's grandson, though my wife knows nothing of it."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You . . . never told her?"

He shook his head, hands now firmly clasped on the desk. "The news would have caused her tremendous sadness . . .

even embarrassment. I saw no need for that."

The thought came to her. He trusts me not to tell. "You

246

TUf?247a c r if i

aeri/tce

fnN huve kept my sister's special handkerchief, then . . .

wliiewlu'iv safe, in case she returned from Ohio?"

t_ "No doubt, I should have given it back," he confessed,