Amish Circle Letters (5 page)

The rain began pelting against the windows, the noise reverberating throughout the kitchen. It was soft at first then louder. She stood by the table and continued separating and folding the laundry. Most of it had been pulled off the line in time.

Dressing chickens was most likely not going to happen, she realized. With a sigh, she quickly changed her course of action for the afternoon. Corn flake sugar cookies, she thought. I’ll have the
kinner
help me make corn flake sugar cookies. If everyone was going to be trapped inside the house, a fun afternoon of cookie making would suit just fine and cheer up some moods.

“Jonas, you best be lighting the lanterns,” she said over her shoulder. “Too dark to see much with the storm and all.”

Obediently, her son nodded and hurried over to the wall where the matches hung by the strike pad. He fished inside for a match and was just about to strike it when Rachel heard noise coming from outside. It was loud enough to be heard over the increasing downpour. She bent down and looked out the window but couldn’t see anything. A frown creased her forehead and she hurried over to the door. As she opened it and stepped onto the porch, she heard it clearly.

“Mamm!”

Elam was screaming and calling out her name. Her heart started to pound inside of her chest. Something bad must have happened. She started to run off the porch to head in the direction from which he was calling her, but before she got to the bottom step, she saw him running around the barn. He was wet and out of breath.

“Lord, child! Slow down!” she called.

She didn’t want to see him fall on the wet grass. But he continued to run. His eyes were wild and his skin pale. She reached out to take him in her arms when he bounded up the porch steps. He collapsed against her, his heart racing as he tried to catch his breath.

“You need to go to Leah’s!”

“What is it?” A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. Clearly something had happened. Was it the baby? “Calm down,” she asked as she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.” She sounded calmer than she felt. She had to.

“There was an accident,” he gulped.

Rachel gasped. “At Leah’s?”

Elam shook his head. “
Nee
, not at Leah’s. At the Yoder’s, next door.”

For a moment, she couldn’t understand what he was saying. The neighbors had an accident? Why would Elam be running to her? Certainly it couldn’t be that bad. “The Yoder’s?” she asked, more for clarification.

He stared up at his mamm. “Menno’s
fraa
…she’s dead!” Elam spurted with welling eyes.

Rachel’s hand fluttered to her mouth. Dead? Dear Lord, she thought. Martha Yoder was so young, just thirty years old! They had children. Small children. No wonder Elam had come for her. Leah wouldn’t be able to handle the situation in the least. With the storm, it would take time for the family members to be notified. No one would be checking the phones in their barn this evening.

“You stay with the
kinner
,” she whispered and hurried out to the barn. She had to find Elijah and get over to Leah’s immediately. They would need to help Menno Yoder get through this tragedy, whatever had happened. An accident and a death would mean a lot of time spent healing for many people in the community, but for tonight, Rachel wanted to see how she could help Menno with his
kinner
until his own mamm could get to the farm.

Once the buggy pulled up to Leah’s barn, Rachel jumped out and ran into the house. Elijah hitched the horse to the side of the barn and followed, just a few seconds behind her. The
kinner
were crowded around the table, several of them weeping as they clung to each other and their mamm. Leah and Mary Ruth did their best to console them and, when Rachel walked in, both women looked thankful.

“It’s awful,” Leah said, jumping up to run to her older sister. She collapsed in Rachel’s arms. Leah had always been the fragile one, the sister who was unsure of herself and emotional. Rachel had learned to deal with it a long time ago. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Get a hold of yourself,” Rachel said gently and held her sister at arm’s length. Leah was crying, which only made the
kinner
sob, too. “For the little ones,” she whispered. “Now, tell me what happened?”

“It was an accident with the baler.”

That didn’t make sense. “The baler?” Why would Martha be working a baler? In this weather? She glanced at her husband. He was pale and speechless.

Leah nodded, trying to stifle a sob. “Martha saw the rain coming and hurried out with her oldest boy to start baling the hay. They had cut it last week for the campout, you know.”

Rachel was well aware of that. Nathan and Elam had been so looking forward to the overnight with their friends. Everyone knew that Menno had cut hay early to accommodate the boys, but when the rain swept through, Rachel had forgotten about the cut hay at the Yoder’s farm. “Dear Lord,” she whispered.

“The baler was wet, she slipped, and the machinery…it just crushed her,” she said, lowering her voice. “Right in front of the boy.”

“Melvin?” Rachel gasped. He was just a young boy, no more than ten. “We need to go over to them,” Rachel said quickly. She glanced around. The
kinner
were still crying and Leah was clearly too upset to leave the house.
No help coming from her,
Rachel thought. Her eyes fell upon Mary Ruth who had her arms around Leah’s daughter.

“Mary Ruth! Come with me,” she insisted and hurried to the door. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Mary Ruth was merely staring at her, a blank expression on her face. “Come along now! We need to help Menno until his family can come to tend to his needs and the
kinner
.”

There were five buggies in the driveway of the Yoder’s farm. There was also an ambulance and two police cars, which looked terribly out of place at the Amish farm. Besides, Mary Ruth was tired of seeing police cars but she obediently followed her older sister as they hurried into the house.

The kitchen was dark. No one had thought to light a lantern yet. Menno was sitting at the table, his head in his hands. His face was blotchy and it was clear that he was still in shock. Mary Ruth hung by the door, uncertain why her sister had insisted that she’d accompany her. It wasn’t as if she knew the Yoder’s. But Rachel knew exactly what to do. She hurried over and lit the lanterns. Then she moved over to the three children who were weeping, sitting next to each other on the sofa. Rachel kneeled in front of them and pulled them into her arms, holding them and letting them sob against her shoulders. The youngest one was sucking on her thumb, a ratty stuffed bear in her arms.

Mary Ruth shuddered. From what she could tell, Menno and Martha had four children, one son and three daughters. They were young, ranging from four to ten. The ten-year-old was a boy and he sat on a chair in the other room, his eyes staring blankly at the floor. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him. Mary Ruth wondered if he was Melvin, the boy who had been with his mamm when she died. She suspected he was and she wished she knew what to do or say.

“This can’t be. It makes no sense,” the man said. His voice was soft and his eyes void of life. He was staring at nothing with his head bent down. “Martha can’t be gone,” he whispered.

An older man with a long white beard placed his hand on Menno’s shoulder. “We cannot question the Lord for His reasons,” he said. Mary Ruth recognized him as the bishop of Leah’s church district. He had preached at the service just yesterday. “You will get through this, Menno. We will help you.”

“Why?” he mumbled to himself. “Why Martha?” He looked up at the bishop. His eyes were now red and filled with tears. “Why?” He seemed to be pleading with the bishop for an answer, but when none came, he dipped his head back down and continued staring at the tabletop.

Mary Ruth glanced at the boy one more time. His thick curly hair was tucked behind his ears and his shirt was ripped at the shoulder. She wondered if that had happened after the accident. She imagined he had tried to save his mamm before he had run for help. She hated the fact that he was sitting alone, no one paying any attention to him. The smaller girls were being comforted by Rachel and the men were supporting Menno. But the boy was alone and in just as much need of consideration.

Taking a deep breath, she went over to his side. Kneeling before him, she touched his arm. His eyes flickered to look at her. They were dull and lifeless. All Mary Ruth could think about was this poor boy witnessing the death of his mother. He blinked his eyes once but said nothing in response to her.

“Let me get you something,” she whispered. “Water, mayhaps?” She didn’t wait to hear if he spoke. Instead, she hurried to the sink. She needed to be busy, to move around the kitchen. She had never witnessed such a solemn scene. It was as if a heavy cloud was hanging over the room, draining it of energy. It felt oppressive, as if a weight was pressing against her chest. She wished that she could leave, to get away from the sorrow and pain lingering in the air, but she knew that dealing with the wrath of Rachel would be worse than staying.

Please help this family, Lord,
she prayed to herself.
Please help that child.

“Don’t touch that!”

Startled, Mary Ruth spun around at the sound of the stern, deep voice that boomed throughout the room. She was surprised to see that Menno had looked up, his dark eyes piercing and glaring at her. She realized that he was yelling at her for opening the cabinet to get a plastic cup. Her hand was inside the cabinet and she froze, uncertain whether to move away or to continue.

Menno continued to glare at her. “That’s his mamm’s job!” he snapped. “She tends her children, not you!”

“Menno,” the bishop said gently, placing his hand on Menno’s shoulder. “Mary Ruth is just trying to help.” He nodded at Mary Ruth to continue. “Your boy’s mamm is gone, Menno. Martha can’t comfort Melvin now. But we are here to comfort all of you.”

“That’s his mamm’s job,” he repeated, this time his voice was softer, almost a resigned utterance.

Mary Ruth handed the drink of water to the boy. He took it but didn’t drink it. Mary Ruth rubbed his back gently, wishing that she was more like Rachel, so confident and able to take charge. It felt awkward to comfort a child that she didn’t really know. She had only met the Yoder family a few times at church functions with Rachel and Leah. She hadn’t paid any attention to them. Now, she wished she had spent a moment getting to know Martha Yoder. But it was too late. She was gone and nothing could change that.

The funeral was held three days later. After all, it took three days to dig the grave, prepare the coffin, and arrange the house. Rachel insisted on helping as much as she could during that time, bringing food over to the house and making certain that the
kinner
were fed. Several times, she brought Mary Ruth with her, leaving Leah to care for the smaller children.

“Why me?” Mary Ruth asked. She dreaded going to the house.

Rachel frowned at her. “They need us” was her sister’s simple answer.

With Rachel, there was no arguing. Mary Ruth had learned
that
years ago. As the oldest sibling of seven, Rachel had been taught to take charge from a small age. It was part of her upbringing and something that everyone had long ago come to depend upon. And as the youngest of seven (nine if you counted the two that died as babies), Mary Ruth had learned that her life was a constant stream of taking orders from those who were in charge.

During each visit, Mary Ruth busied herself cleaning the kitchen. There was a never-ending pile of dishes as people came by to sit with the body and to show support for Menno. Then, there was the viewing when Martha’s body was laid out in the sitting room and the family gathered around to reflect and say their goodbyes.

Mary Ruth tried not to look into the room. She didn’t want to see the coffin. It was a simple pine box and was kept shut. For that, Mary Ruth was grateful. She didn’t want to see the body of Martha Yoder. Certainly Martha wore her wedding dress, a pale blue dress with a white apron. But her body had been badly maimed and the decision had been made by her family to not upset the community with a viewing that entailed witnessing her injuries.

After that viewing, four men had carried the pine box outside to the horse drawn carriage. It was a buggy with an open back, just long enough to support the coffin. Mary Ruth felt her throat swell as she watched Menno following the men, his children close behind. A long line of buggies drove along the road behind the buggy where the coffin laid. They were headed to the cemetery; there the bishop would preach about the glory of God. There would be very little mention of Martha, just a simple reading of her name, birth date, and death date when he was finished preaching.

Mary Ruth stood next to Rachel and Elijah during the graveside preaching. Her eyes shifted from the hole in the ground which now contained Martha’s coffin, to the pale, drawn face of Menno Yoder, still in shock over losing his young wife. When the family began to toss dirt into the hole, Mary Ruth felt tears falling down her cheeks and she had to look away. It was too much for her to handle. Death seemed a cruel aftermath to life, especially for such a young woman.

At least four hundred people showed up, each family bringing food and well wishes for the Yoders. But Menno sat by himself, ignoring the kind words. He didn’t greet the people as he couldn’t bring himself to talk with anyone. Instead, he stared ahead, his expression blank and seemingly void of emotion.

Mary Ruth glanced at him from time to time as she scurried about the kitchen. Since she didn’t know the Yoders, she felt more comfortable helping Leah in the kitchen. Rachel had taken charge of the younger children, making certain that they were bathed and dressed proper to say goodbye to their mamm. Mary Ruth noticed that, once again, Melvin, the boy, was sitting by himself. No one seemed to be paying attention to him or concerned with his isolation and quiet demeanor.