Following Your Heart (14 page)

“He'll grow out of that,”
Mamm
said. “
Daett
used to do that to me when we were first married, so I know little boys grow out of such things.”

They all laughed as Menno turned red in the face.

“That sounds better than what our boys got into last week,” Betsy said. “I do declare, it must be the winter weather or something. I would think they had enough chores to do besides all their schoolwork. But I heard the most awful bawling out in the barn soon after they came home from school. I thought for sure something was dying.”

“You didn't think it was them?” Miriam's husband, Joe, asked.

“Of course not,” Betsy said. “I can tell the difference. So I went running out to the barn, and here they were riding the yearling calf. I almost broke down laughing at the sight of those two boys on her back. I suppose they thought it was easier to stay on if they had each other to hang on to.”

“I can imagine,”
Mamm
said, but she wasn't smiling.

“They had a rope tied around her neck,” Betsy said. “I didn't stand around laughing for long. I was soon yelling at them to get off. But a lot of
gut
that did. I think both of them were afraid to let go of the rope. They went around and around in the barnyard, the calf bucking for all it was worth.”

“Now that's some young men!” Joe said. “How long did it take for the calf to get them off?”

“I don't know.” Betsy covered her face with her hands. “I couldn't stand to watch. When everything was finally quiet I dared look again, and they were both lying in the mud, the calf panting over on the other side of the barnyard like it was going to fall over from exhaustion right then and there.”

“My guess is you had some things to say,” Ada ventured.

“I sure did!” Betsy said. “After I was sure they were alive, anyway. I thought they were crying at first, but they were laughing, the two rascals. That's when I really gave it to them. I don't think they'll be trying that stunt again.”

“I wouldn't depend on that,” Ada said.

“It'll be a whipping next time,” Betsy said, with fire in her eyes. “I don't care how old they are. That's just a bunch of nonsense.”

“That's something we tried as boys,” Henry said, a sly grin on his face. “Only it was hogs.”

“Did you mud them down first?” John asked, laughing.

“
Nee
,” Henry said. “But mine ended up breaking out of the pen with me on it. The neighbors must have talked about it for days afterward. I had gone a quarter mile down the road before I fell off.”

“I'm sure your
daett
had something to say about that,” Esther said.

“I got a good whopping,” Henry said. “But it was worth it.”

“Only a boy would say that.” Betsy sighed.

“Now, now,” John said. “I don't think you girls were exactly angels growing up.”

“Of course we were!” Betsy glared at him. “What makes you think we weren't?”

“Oh, a little birdie told me things.” John had a twinkle in his eye. “You have sisters, you know.”

“We were all angels, weren't we?” Betsy asked, looking around the room. “And we wouldn't be telling anyway, now would we?”

“I didn't mean your sisters told me,” John said.

“Then who did?” Betsy asked.

John didn't say anything but shot a quick glance toward
Mamm.

“
Mamm
!” Betsy exploded. “Why would you be telling him things?”

Mamm
's hands flew to her face, hiding her laughter. “I couldn't help myself. You and Miriam were the funniest sight. It seemed a shame not to tell someone.”

“So is this what I think it is?” Betsy asked, looking at Miriam.

“I expect it is,” John said. “And it was funny.”

“So why aren't we hearing the story now?” Joe asked.

“Because I don't want it told,” Betsy declared.

“I think
Mamm
should tell the story,” John said. “That way we can stay on speaking terms tonight.”

“I think that would be wise,” someone said.

Betsy was glaring at John again.

Mamm
laughed out loud now. “It's really not much,” she said. “One day the two girls took it upon themselves to dress up in their
daett
's clothing when they thought no one was around. The pants and shirts didn't fit very well, which made for quite a sight.”

“How come I was never told of this?” Menno asked.

“They didn't harm them,”
Mamm
said, waving her hand at him. “And no one saw them except an
Englisha
neighbor who stopped by for something… I can't remember what, anymore. He came to the door and knocked while we were carrying on about how the girls looked. I told them afterward that he sees women in shirts and pants all the time, but they nearly tore the knob off the stair door getting out of his sight. I thought for sure they were going to break their legs on the stairs.”

“Oh, that was a horrible day.” Miriam groaned. “I was sure he thought about nothing but the sight of us in our
daett
's clothing for days afterward.”

“And to think I forgot this,” Betsy said. “I must have buried the memory in the deep, dark corners of my mind, hoping it would never see the light of day.”

“Well, see what comes from hiding your sins?” her
daett
said. “They always come out in the end.”

“I guess so,”
Mamm
agreed. “But this wasn't really a sin. They were just playing around.”

“I know.” Menno smiled. “I was just saying.”

John jumped to his feet. “Well, enough stories. I believe we need to gather our children up and get back home. It's going to be late enough getting up in the morning the way it is.”

Betsy got up with him, followed by the others. They stood around talking for a few more minutes as they gathered their children's coats and called the children indoors. The men went to the barn first, getting the horses out and hitching them to the buggies. The women followed with the children and helped the smaller ones up the buggy steps.

Teresa stood with Susan by the living room window, watching the buggies leave, their dim lights fading into the distance.

“Is it always this wonderful to have family around?” Teresa asked.

“I guess so,” Susan replied, staring at the darkness. “I haven't really thought about it.”

“You have been given many things for which you can be very thankful,” Teresa said. “This evening was awesome.”

“I think Samuel is wanting attention!”
Mamm
called from her rocking chair.

Teresa went at once to pick up the baby, who was puckering up his face.

“I'm glad you enjoyed the evening,”
Mamm
said. “I hope all the ruckus the children made didn't disturb you. I know you're not used to that.”

Teresa smiled. “It's something I could get very used to, believe me.”

Y
ost Byler threw the last of the hay bale into the rack. His horse pulled the long strings of dried grass through the wooden slats hungrily.

“That'll have to do for you, old boy,” Yost muttered, noting again how the horse's ribs showed. “The hay mow's getting a little low already for this early in the winter.”

The horse bobbed his head as if it understood.

“I reckon I'll go fix some supper for myself,” Yost said, moving away from the stall. He paused to check the level of water in the barrel before walking out the barn door and making his way toward the washroom door of his small, two-story home. The paint was faded on the wooden clapboard siding, the tall, sagging windows were covered with plastic for the winter.

His stomach growled with hunger, but Yost paused to look up at the sky. Thomas Stoll's visit was still on his mind. He wondered again why
Da Hah
hadn't seen fit to send him a wife by now. Someone who would have a fire glowing in the old kitchen stove, the house warm when he entered, and a decent supper on the table. Was he so different from other men that he could live without a wife?

Pushing open the washroom door, Yost entered, tossing his weather-beaten wool hat into the corner on the floor. Dust rose from where the hat landed. He coughed. That was another thing a wife could do—sweep the place once in a while.

The last time he had tried sweeping the house was a day early in the summer when rain interrupted his hay baling. What an awful experience that had been, watching one's best crop of hay get soaking wet while he was doing housework. Now the sight of a broom was enough to bring back those sinking feelings. But a broom in the hands of a woman would be another matter entirely.

Yost sighed, splashing water into the dirty wash basin. Perhaps Thomas was correct, and
Da Hah
was finally remembering his years of distress. But an
Englisha
girl? How would she know how to cook? And she could not speak their language. But perhaps she could learn? Unless she was a total
dummkopf
, which Thomas said she wasn't.

She was young from the sound of it, which could mean children well into his old age. But that couldn't be helped and he must not let that bother him. Even if he couldn't work, there would be enough food to go around somehow. As long as the girl was a decent wife to him.

Thomas claimed she was nice enough, but then Thomas could be stretching the truth. He did have his reasons. But who wouldn't be tempted to stretch the truth when a girl like Susan Hostetler was on the line? How blessed some young boys were, and still they didn't have the sense to act decently. From what he'd heard, Thomas had tried to mow two hayfields at the same time. Like any man could do that? But at least it sounded like Thomas was seeing his mistake and trying to correct it.

Yost rubbed his face down with the towel, taking the time to dry his lengthy beard.
What would it be like
, he wondered,
to push open the washroom door right now and know a woman was waiting for him?
He rubbed his beard a little longer before dropping the towel back on the countertop.

Yah
, there must be something
wunderbar
about it. Too wonderful for him, but perhaps that was about to change. Impossible as the idea seemed, the chance simply couldn't be passed up. Hadn't he spent untold amounts of what little money he had on trips to far-flung Amish communities in search of a wife?
Yah
, he had, and it had been all for nothing. What could be wasted with a buggy ride down to Deacon Ray's place? The horse was fed, and he could easily stand the trip and still be rested up for the Sunday morning drive to church.

Yost pushed open the washroom door and stepped inside. The kitchen table still had the breakfast dishes in place, with last night's supper dishes pushed to the side. He picked up a handful, rinsing them under the faucet at the sink, scrubbing with his bare hands at the dried egg crusted on the plate. Sighing, he gave up, taking the plate back to the table. He found a meat casserole his youngest sister, Susie, had brought over last week and cut cold slices off with a table knife. Opening the bread bag, he took a piece out, placing the meat across the bare top. Getting a glass and filling it with water from the faucet, he sat down, bowed his head in silent prayer, and ate.

After he was done, he grabbed his coat from the hall closet and went outside. He took the horse out of the stall. It whinnied and snorted in protest, but Yost kept going. He threw the harness over the horse's back. Leading the animal outside, he held up the shafts of the buggy. Making the swing with one hand, his beard snagged on the shafts. He jerked back, leaving a few hairs hanging on the wood.

Fastening the tugs, Yost rubbed his chin before throwing the lines through the open storm front and climbing in. The horse shook its head but took off when Yost tightened up the lines and clucked. Once he was on the road, the doubts and fears came rushing into his head.