The Longing (13 page)
But when it came to thinking about weight and her overall appearance, Rhoda remembered back to her delight at Ken’s having chosen to date her even when she was beyond pleasingly plump. And that made her smile.
Having deliberated long enough, Rosanna was ready to make plans to travel to Bird-in-Hand, hoping to meet the women behind Treva’s astonishing revelation. She’d shared with Elias what she wanted to do, and although he brightened a bit at the prospect of another child, he was also tentative.
“I don’t want to see you endure more heartbreak, love,”
he’d said.
She walked down the road and noticed the meadow grass trying its best to green up, and the bursting buds on trees. Spotting the small communal telephone box hidden by a large oak tree, she hurried to it and placed her call to a driver to set up a trip for tomorrow, thinking she might first stop in at Treva’s and then go with her to meet the women. The feel of the telephone receiver in her hand always made her nervous, and today was no different.
While she waited for an answer on the other end, she thought how nice it would be for Nellie Mae to go along tomorrow. Sighing, she recalled how hurt Nellie had seemed by the way things had unfolded on Sister’s Day. Rosanna felt bad about that. Part of it was due to her own struggle, knowing she would soon lose the baby growing within her. Yet that was no excuse for treating Nellie so.
If only I’d told her the truth . . .
But there was no need to tell a soul, really. No need for anyone else to experience the too-familiar pain.
After calling for a driver, she strolled back toward the house. She resisted the urge to cradle her stomach, to somehow comfort the fragile life growing inside. She cherished every day it continued. At least now Rosanna trusted she’d know this child in heaven if not here on earth.
She thanked God for bringing the light of Scripture to her heart and to Elias’s. Its truths had led them out of past bondage and into the liberty of such things as feeling free enough to talk to her Savior in prayer.
Because of this, more than any other springtime, Rosanna observed the aromas of April’s freshening landscape and the clusters of songbirds, each with a unique call. And the way the sky appeared increasingly blue as each week passed . . . the way the sun came to rest in the mulberry trees at sunset. The neighbors would soon turn their heifers out into the grassy meadow, and woodcutters would scout out the woods for dry timber.
Spring’s never been more stunning.
She hoped she was doing the right
thing by going to meet Treva’s acquaintances. She’d asked for a divine warning, for something to stand in her way if she was not to go. So, moving ahead cautiously, Rosanna felt her way through this painful maze, her bittersweet memories of Eli and Rosie still lingering.
Betsy laid out her dress pattern with some help from Nan while Nellie looked after the bakery shop. She planned to cut out a new dress and sew most of it today, since her for-good dresses had seen better days.
Reuben came in the back door just then, looking for another big mug of coffee. She stopped everything and poured some for him as Nan finished pinning her pattern to the blue fabric. Then, with a quick smile, Nan headed out the door to the shop.
“Well, such gut timing,” she admitted to her husband.
He reached for the coffee, nice and black, the way he liked it. “You have a kiss for me, Betsy . . . is that it?” He leaned forward and puckered up.
“Oh, you silly.” She bent down and kissed him soundly. “I wondered if you’d heard ’bout Caleb Yoder having an outside fella helping with milking of an afternoon.”
“ ’Tis mighty curious, I daresay. Just heard it from Ephram.”
“So it
is
true.” She moved back to the table and picked up her scissors, leaning over to cut out the dress. “I think the same young man might’ve stopped in here . . . bought himself some pies.”
Reuben glanced out the window. “Here?”
“Jah, Nellie sold him two of her pies yesterday afternoon.”
“Well, now . . . wonder what David thinks of all this.” He shook his head and made his way toward the back door again.
Betsy picked up her pace, determined to cut out the dress before it was time to lay out the noon meal.
With Abe’s help, Caleb lifted his father from his wheelchair onto the downstairs bed, where he preferred to rest, following the noon meal. Like clockwork his father slept each day for more than an hour, something he had never done, at least prior to his accident.
Abe stepped out of the bedroom, leaving Caleb alone with Daed, whose face was still marred with fading bruises. Caleb was careful to move his father’s legs just the way he’d requested, even though Daed could not feel anything from his waist down.
But he could speak his mind without wavering—his tongue wasn’t paralyzed.
Daed leaned his head up, bracing himself with his long arms. He scowled down at his rumpled trousers. “Ach, straighten them, Caleb,” he barked.
Nodding, Caleb lifted first one foot, then the other, pulling the pant legs down. He remained calm as he untied and removed the heavy shoes to place them at the bottom of the double bed, stumped as to why Daed didn’t simply wear his bedroom slippers. After all, he never left the house and stayed mostly in the kitchen near Mamm, where he read
The Budget
or watched her bake and cook and clean all day.
Then, before Daed could remind him to get the quilt that was folded over the blanket rack near the bureau, Caleb reached for it and spread it over his father’s legs with great care, almost forgetting there was not a speck of feeling there.
“Don’t leave me alone for too long.” Daed closed his eyes. “Like the other day.”
Caleb stared at the floor, grinding his teeth. Was it ever possible to meet Daed’s expectations?
“Are you listenin’ or still mooning over that Fisher girl?” Daed’s words gnashed at him. “Don’t leave me here to rot,” he repeated.
His brothers and Leah and Emmie were in and out of the room all the time. Why was Daed picking on him? But no, he wouldn’t let his father’s sharp remarks discourage him.
Caleb felt strongly that his older sister Rebekah could be of some good help indoors when Gideon, Jonah, and Abe were too busy with farm work—especially on days when Leah was away working at the neighbors’. Even if Daed wouldn’t allow Rebekah to live here, wouldn’t it make sense for her to help sometimes with everything all topsy-turvy?
“Well, what’re you waitin’ for?” Daed said, one puffy eye open. “Start sowing all them tobacco seeds. Won’t be long and you’ll need to transplant, ya know. You, your brothers, and all their families. As many as you can get to help.”
Caleb nodded, but resentment hung like armor around his shoulders. “Anything else you need for now?”
Daed waved his hand, still big and strong from all the years of raising tobacco.
“I’ll check on you in a couple of hours, then.”
A guttural grunt was the response.
Now’s not the time to bring up Rebekah. . . .
He was glad he’d kept his cousin Chris’s visits quiet, too, wondering why neither Mamma nor any of his brothers had said a word to Daed. If anyone had, surely his father would have mentioned his disapproval by now.
As he left the room, he pulled the door partly shut, leaving it open a crack, as Daed insisted. He felt mighty sorry for Mamma, who was at his father’s beck and call even more so than before. Caleb had even helped with the heavy part of spring housecleaning, washing down walls and windows with his mother and sisters, since it was their turn to hold Preaching service—all of this while Daed looked on, seemingly disgusted that his son would stoop to women’s work. But Caleb didn’t mind; he had to fill up his hours somehow to avoid thinking too much about Nellie Mae.
At times, he could kick himself for not leaving town when he’d had a chance. With
her
. . . if she’d agreed. But he’d made the mistake of staying on and waiting for Nellie to come to her senses, hoping she’d realize she was mixed up in the wrong church. To no avail. And the longer she stuck it out in that new church of hers, the more unreasonable she was sure to become.
Nellie was so delighted to see Rosanna turn into the lane, she ran out of the shop and waved. “Hullo, Rosanna!”
Her friend was slow to climb out of the buggy, and a fleeting thought crossed Nellie’s mind that she might still be under the weather. “I’m not here for pastries this time,” Rosanna told her.
“No need to buy a thing.”
Reaching for her hand, Rosanna asked, “Would you consider goin’ with me to Bird-in-Hand tomorrow?”
This did Nellie’s heart good. “I’ll see if Mamma or Nan can manage the shop without me. Maybe both.”
“Goodness, you must have lots of customers.”
“You have no idea.” Nellie hugged her. “Oh, I’m glad you’re not mad at me.”
“Well, why would I be?”
They grinned in unison, and Nellie led her inside to sit at the table nearest the window. “Care for some warm tea . . . or coffee, maybe?”
Rosanna shook her head right quick. “None for me.”
This was a surprise. Since when had Rosanna given up her favorite hot drinks? Nellie joined her at the table, wondering what she could offer her instead. “How ’bout some juice, then?”
“Apple juice, jah—sounds good.”
Nellie nodded. “I know we have some. Just wait here.”
Quickly she made her way to the house, returning back to the shop with a small pitcher of the juice. But she was alarmed to see Rosanna brushing away tears. “Dear Rosanna, whatever’s wrong?”
“I’m ever so frightened . . . just like you were when you read Treva’s letter.”
Nellie patted her hand. “Of course you are.”
“What’ll I say to them . . . I mean, think of it: How do I pick the mother of my baby?” Rosanna’s face was streaked with
tears, and her Kapp was off-kilter.
“God will give you wisdom.” Nellie took her friend’s hands. “Just ask.” She bowed her head and began to pray softly. “Dear Lord in heaven, you see into our hearts—both Rosanna’s and mine. You know how unsure Rosanna is just now. So I ask for help tomorrow, as Preacher Manny says we ought to pray. And may your will be done. Amen.”
When they opened their eyes, Nellie saw her mother walking from the house toward the bakery shop. “Mamma knows of Treva’s letter—I shared it with her. Is that all right?”
Rosanna nodded, sighing. “Denki for the prayer, Nellie Mae. I like the way you’re comfortable talkin’ to the Lord like He’s sittin’ right here with us.”
“Well, He is . . . ain’t so?”
Rosanna smiled now. “ ‘Where two or three are gathered,’ jah?”
Mamma came in the door, and Rosanna motioned for her to sit with them, asking if she’d mind watching the shop tomorrow so Nellie could travel to Bird-in-Hand.
“Are you ever so sure ’bout going, Rosanna?” asked Mamma, her face pinched with concern.
Rosanna looked at Nellie, smiling again. “Nellie Mae prayed ’bout it . . . and, jah, I’m mighty sure.”
“Well, then, who am I to say differently?” Mamma reached over and gently squeezed both of Rosanna’s hands.
Nellie bit her lip, fighting back her own tears.
Sheryl Kreider hadn’t exactly caught his eye, but the junior
was
pretty, a girl Chris had known in the church for nearly all his life. The graduation event was six weeks away, and he figured he should ask
someone
, since the entire youth group turned out for these things, seniors or not—like one big, encouraging family. It did worry him that Sheryl might think he was interested in going out with her more than once. In reality, there was no one he cared for like that. No one in his world, at least.
Thinking back to his spur-of-the-moment stop at Nellie Mae’s bakery shop, Chris felt ridiculous. He knew he wasn’t crazy enough to ask her out, interesting though she was. Zach had been quizzing him about where he disappeared to several afternoons a week, but Chris refused to own up, saying only that he was helping a friend in need. All the same, it was getting harder to dodge Zach’s questions without raising even more. No sense throwing him back into missing Suzy all over again, with talk of their Amish cousins.
He spied Sheryl at her locker between fifth and sixth period as she was spinning through her combination, her brown shoulder-length hair pulled back in a loose bun beneath the formal Mennonite head covering. He did a double take; her profile reminded him of Nellie Mae’s.
Enough of that,
he told himself, heading down the hall to ask Sheryl to the banquet.
Rosanna hoped each of Treva’s acquaintances would like her and see her as a good choice to raise a baby.
Lord willing,
she thought while walking across the side yard with Nellie Mae as Treva tied up the horse.
Soon the three of them were entering the large brick farmhouse to meet the first woman, a faithful member of the Old Order Amish church. The young mother of four preschoolers was named Emma Sue Lapp, and the way she said her first two names pushed them together into one.
Rosanna listened as she chattered about her lively children, enjoying the woman’s delicious chocolate chip cookies. As they visited, Rosanna held Emma Sue’s youngest boy—a towheaded one-year-old—thinking all the while how terrible it would be to take away his baby brother or sister. Visions of Cousin Kate’s other children making over Eli and Rosie hit her ever so hard, and she shivered and looked away from the tot still in her arms. Seemingly untroubled, the little boy leaned into her, close to where her own wee one grew.
Rosanna tried to keep her focus on Emma Sue. The cheerful woman was making it overly clear that her husband was in favor of giving Rosanna this next baby, “as long as it’s a girl.”
Feeling out of sorts and terribly presumptuous, Rosanna was relieved they couldn’t stay long. Right now, when she considered again why she’d come today, she felt nearly heartsick.
“We’ll have us a light meal at the next house,” Treva said, glancing at Rosanna, who sat sandwiched between her and Nellie Mae in the front seat of the buggy.
