Going Home (10 page)

Noah sat up with a start. He’d been having a strange dream about Pop’s squealing pigs when something awakened him.
Strange
, he thought as he slipped out of bed.
I don’t even like my daed’s smelly critters, so it makes no sense that I’d be dreaming about them
.

It was still raining. Noah could hear the heavy drops falling on their metal roof and the wind whipping against his upstairs bedroom window, rattling the glass until he feared it might break.

Noah padded across the wooden floor in his bare feet and lifted the dark shade from the windowpane. He gasped at the sight before him.

Flames of red and orange shot out of the barn in all directions, as billows of smoke drifted toward the sky.

Noah threw on his clothes and dashed down the stairs. He pounded on his parents’ bedroom door, shouting, “Pop, get up!
Schnell!
The barn’s on fire! Hurry!”

The next couple of hours went by in a blur as Noah, his father, and several neighbors, including Noah’s brothers William and Peter, tried unsuccessfully to save the Hertzlers’ barn. Only by a miracle were the animals rescued, although they lost one aged sow, and several other pigs seemed to be affected by the smoke.

One of their English neighbors had phoned the Seymour Fire Department, but they hadn’t arrived in time to save the barn. Noah felt sick at heart as he and his folks stood in the yard, surveying the damage. From the slump of his father’s shoulders and his downcast eyes, Noah knew Pop felt even worse than he did. “I’m sorry about your barn,” Noah said with a catch in his voice. “If I’d only been awake when it was struck by lightning, maybe we could’ve caught it in time to keep the whole place from burning.”

“It’s not your fault,” his father said hoarsely, reaching up to wipe away the soot on his cheeks. “Trouble comes to all, and at least no human lives were taken.”

Mom slipped an arm around Pop’s waist. “We can have a new barn raised as soon as this mess is cleaned up.”

Noah nodded. “And I’m sure we’ll have plenty of help.” Folks in their community always rallied whenever anyone lost a barn or needed major work done on a house.

“There’s nothing more we can do here,” Mom said. “I say we go on back to bed and try to get a few more hours’ sleep before we have to get up for preaching.”

Pop nodded and took hold of her hand; then the two of them shuffled off toward the house.

“You coming, son?” Mom called over her shoulder.

“I’ll be in after a bit.”

Noah heard the back door click shut behind his folks, but he just stood on the grass. The huge white barn he had played in as a child was gone. Its remains were nothing more than a pile of charred lumber and a heap of grimy ashes. Soon there
would be a new barn in its place. At least that was something to be thankful for.

Faith awoke on Sunday morning feeling groggy and disoriented. She’d spent most of the night caring for Melinda, who had come down with the flu. The child was running a temperature and had vomited several times. It was no wonder she’d complained of a stomachache.

Faith glanced over at her daughter, now sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed. She would let the child sleep while she went downstairs for a bite of breakfast, then she’d come straight back to her room.

Faith slipped out from under the covers and plucked her lightweight robe off the wall peg. A short time later, she found her mother and three sisters in the kitchen, scurrying about to get the table set and breakfast on. The tantalizing aroma of eggs cooking on the stove made her stomach rumble. Until this moment she hadn’t realized she was hungry.

“You’re not even dressed,” Mama said, scowling at Faith and pointing to her nightgown. “And where’s Melinda? The two of you are going to make us late for preaching if you don’t get a move on.”

“Melinda came down with the flu during the night.” Faith reached for the teakettle near the back of the stove. “We’ll be staying home from church today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mama said.

“Sorry to hear Melinda’s sick or that we won’t be going to church?” Faith knew her voice sounded harsh, but she didn’t like the feeling that her mother disapproved of her staying home from church in order to care for Melinda.

“I don’t appreciate the tone you’re using,” Mama said, pushing her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry to hear Melinda is sick, and I understand why you won’t be going to preaching today.”

A sense of guilt stabbed Faith’s conscience. In times past, Mama had seemed so judgmental, and Faith had assumed nothing had changed. Apparently she’d been wrong. Maybe Mama did care about Melinda being sick.

“Sorry for snapping,” Faith mumbled. “Guess I’m a mite edgy this morning. Between that awful storm and Melinda getting sick, neither of us got much sleep last night.”

“I’m sorry if I sounded irritable, too,” her mother said.

“Am I gonna get sick, too, Mama?” Susie spoke up. She’d been setting the table but had stopped what she was doing when Faith mentioned that Melinda had come down with the flu.

“I hope not,” Faith said. “That’s why I kept Melinda in my room all night.”

“If the child stays in your room while she’s got the bug, maybe none of us will get it,” Mama added.

“What about Faith?” Esther’s pale blue eyes narrowed with obvious concern. She handed her mother two more eggs. “If Melinda’s been sleeping with Faith, hasn’t she already been exposed? Won’t she likely get the flu?”

“Guess that all depends on how strong her immune system
is,” Mama replied. She broke one egg into the pan and reached for another.

“That’s right,” Grace Ann put in as she retrieved a jug of milk from the refrigerator and set it on the table. “Some people can be exposed to all kinds of things and never get sick. Maybe our big sister’s one of those healthy people.”

Faith could hardly believe the way her sisters and mother were discussing her as though she weren’t even in the room. Irritated with their lack of manners and feeling the need to say something on her own behalf, she said, “I hardly ever become ill, but have no fear. If I do come down with the bug, I’ll be sure to stay put in my room.” Faith grabbed a stash of napkins and added them to the silverware Susie had set next to each plate.

“If anyone else should get sick, we’ll deal with it as it comes,” Mama said with a nod. “Your daed and the brothers will be in soon, so right now the only thing we should concern ourselves with is getting breakfast on the table.”

Grace Ann and Faith exchanged glances, but neither said a word, and Faith was glad the discussion was over. All she wanted to do was eat a little breakfast, fix a cup of mint tea for Melinda, and head back upstairs to her room.

Once breakfast was over and Faith had gone upstairs to check on Melinda, Wilma began washing the dishes while Susie dried them. Grace Ann swept the floor, and Esther wiped off the stove and countertops.

“I don’t understand why Faith gets upset so easily,” Esther said as she handed her mother the wet rag she’d been using.

“She did seem a mite testy,” Wilma agreed.

“It didn’t sound like she got much sleep last night,” Grace Ann put. “I can understand that, because I’m always cranky whenever I don’t get enough sleep.”

“Ha!” Esther grunted. “You’re cranky every morning, no matter how much sleep you’ve had the night before.”

“I am not.”

“Are so.”

“Am not.”

“Girls,” Wilma said with a frown, “you’re acting like a couple of ornery old hens, not two young women who should know better than to carry on in such a way.”

“Bawk! Bawk!”
Susie flapped her arms and waved the dish towel. “My sisters are a couple of fat red hens.”

“I didn’t say your sisters were fat,” Wilma corrected. “And I’ll thank you to tend to your own business or you might end up making a visit to the woodshed this morning.”

Susie dropped her gaze to the floor and turned toward the plates waiting to be dried on the plastic dish drainer. Wilma went back to washing the rest of the dishes. It was good to have Faith home again, but her presence had created a few problems. Her three younger sisters had become a bit disagreeable since Faith’s appearance, and young Susie was much more vocal than she used to be.

“I wonder what it must have been like for Faith living in the English world and entertaining folks on a stage somewhere,”
Esther said as she leaned against the counter near the sink with a dreamy look on her face.

“That’s not for us to know, so don’t go asking Faith about it,” Wilma said with a shake of her head.

“I’d like to see one of those shows sometime,” Esther went on to say. “Just so I’d know what it must have been like for Faith.”

Wilma dropped her rag into the dishwater with a splash, sending several bubbles floating to the ceiling. “There’ll be no more talk like that in this house. It was hard enough to lose one daughter to the world, and I’ll not lose another.” She paused and shook her finger. “So you’d better think twice about such foolish notions.”

Esther nodded solemnly and moved away from the sink, just as John entered the house and announced that the horses and buggies were ready to go. “Papa said for me to tell you womenfolk that it’s time to leave for church,” he added.

“We’re coming,” Wilma said as she dried her hands on the clean towel she’d pulled from a cupboard drawer.

John looked around the room. “Where’s Faith and Melinda? Aren’t they going to church today?”

Wilma lifted her gaze toward the ceiling. “Where were you during breakfast this morning?”

“At the table, same as you.”

“Then you must have heard Faith tell us that Melinda took sick during the night, and that she’d be staying home in order to care for the child.”

John shrugged and gave a noncommittal grunt. “Jah, okay. See you outside in the buggy.”

As Wilma followed her daughters out the door, she offered a silent prayer for all her brood.

Late that afternoon, Faith stepped outside to the front porch. She’d spent the early part of the day resting and caring for Melinda and was glad the child was feeling somewhat better and had eaten a bowl of chicken broth around noon. Melinda was napping now, so Faith decided to spend a few minutes on the porch swing where she could enjoy the fresh, rain-washed scent still permeating the air after last night’s storm. It had been a nasty one, and even if Melinda hadn’t kept Faith up all night, the wind and rain surely would have. A bolt of lightning could do a lot of damage, and so could the howling winds. Buildings might catch on fire, roofs could be blown off, and flash floods often occurred. Any of those tragedies meant lots of hard work.

When a ball of white fur jumped up beside Faith, she shifted on the swing and stroked the top of the cat’s fluffy white head. “You needed to get away from your hungry babies for a while, didn’t you, Snowball?”

The cat meowed in response, curled into a tight ball, and began to purr.

Faith smiled. Oh, to live the life of a cat, whose only concern was licking its paws, batting at bugs, and chasing down some defenseless bird or mouse once in a while. Cats didn’t have to answer to anyone. They could pretty much do as they pleased.

She leaned her head against the back of the swing and closed
her eyes. It was so peaceful here, where the birds chirped happily and no one competed with anyone else to get ahead. Nothing like Faith’s life on the road had been. There were so many demands and pressures that went along with being an entertainer. Days and nights spent in travel, hours of practicing for shows, and the burden of trying to please an audience had taken their toll on Faith. Still, she would gladly put up with the discomforts in order to do what she liked best.
If only my folks would have accepted my humor when I was a girl. Was it really so wrong to tell jokes and yodel whenever I felt like it?