The Longing (27 page)

Rebekah hadn’t arrived yet, either, so he’d have to get Leah and Emmie to help, unless the neighbors wandered over to pitch in, as they sometimes did on weekends.

Caleb set off to the pasture to open the gate for the cows, glancing toward the cornfield, still watching for any extra help. He wondered if Daed and Gideon had already discussed what would happen if his father were to die. Would Abe continue to run things? Would Jonah? Which of his siblings would care for Mamm in her old age? Perhaps Daed was talking to Mamm about that even now, holed up as they were in the small main-floor bedroom.

To keep from fretting, he pondered the bishop’s sermon— the longer of the two sermons this morning. Not a single time today had he dozed off. The bishop was changing his way of preaching, repeating scriptures that seemed foreign to Caleb. Had anyone else noticed? There was no getting Mamm’s or Leah’s opinion, since they’d taken their turn staying at home with Daed. And anyway, for the most part, he didn’t discuss church-related matters with his mother and sisters. Only Rebekah had ever shown any interest in such things, but he couldn’t talk to her now, not since she’d gone to live with the Ebersols.
Since she’d gone off the deep end . . .

Caleb was washing down the fifth cow in the first row when here came Leah, Emmie, and Mamm. He looked away when he saw how puffy and red Mamm’s eyes were. “I don’t want to be gone long from Daed,” she said quickly, which created even more apprehension in him.

What’s happening? Is it possible my father’s dying?

After milking, and before a light supper of sandwiches, red beet eggs, and celery sticks with peanut butter, Rebekah sat down with Caleb at the far end of the table. As was her way, she smiled freely.

Placing a plateful of cookies in front of him, she said, “I baked your favorites yesterday.”

He reached for a chocolate chip cookie, eyeing the peanut butter ones, as well, but she slid the plate back quickly. “You’ll spoil your supper, Caleb Yoder.”

“Where have I heard
that
before?” He glanced at Mamm, worry slapping him in the pit of his stomach each time he noted her serious demeanor. She was even more solemn than earlier.
Why?
He wanted to fool himself into thinking it was merely her usual response to the Lord’s Day; she’d always been a stickler for observing Sundays reverently. But something told him her glum spirits had more to do with Daed’s deteriorating condition. That and whatever they’d discussed alone.

Mamm sat with them for the silent prayer, which Caleb offered as the only male present at the table. Then she rose and dished up food for Daed. “I’ll be helping your father with his meal tonight” was all she said before leaving the kitchen.

Once the door to Daed’s room was latched shut, Rebekah leaned forward. Her smile faded. “I don’t mean to frighten yous, but Mamma’s told me Daed believes his days are numbered.”

Leah gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, and Emmie shook her head, mouthing,
No.

“He’s settin’ his house in order,” Rebekah continued, looking toward Caleb now.

“What’s that mean?” Caleb managed to ask.

“Well, I know you may not understand this, but if I may be so bold . . .” She paused, her eyes on Leah and Emmie. Then she faced Caleb again. “The way I see it, God’s beginnin’ to answer the prayers that have gone up for our family . . . and for Daed, ’specially.”

Unable to grasp her point, Caleb stared at her. “Meaning what?”

“Evidently Daed’s makin’ peace with God . . . in his own way.” Rebekah reached for her sandwich.

“But he did that at his baptism,” Leah said, “back when he joined church as a youth.”

Rebekah glanced at Caleb. “Well, if you go walkin’ with me in a bit, I’ll tell you more ’bout what I mean. And the reason for the break in the old church, too, in case you don’t know.”

“Had something to do with a big debate,” Caleb said. He hadn’t meant to sound so dismissive.

Rebekah’s face lit up—the same glow he’d seen on Nellie Mae’s face the day they’d said their good-byes. “Jah, the split was about saving grace,” she said. “And makin’ a public confession of it.”

“I’ll take a walk with ya, Rebekah,” said Leah, her voice surprisingly bold.

Caleb wasn’t interested in Rebekah’s views of the church split. He already knew far too much about all of that.

Rosanna saw the tobacco farmer first as the man turned into their lane.
Coming for counsel with Elias, no doubt.
She touched Elias’s hand as they lingered at the table, having a piece of strawberry pie.

“Mind if I go out and talk to him?” Her husband rose quickly.

“Supper’s through,” she said softly, and Elias got up from the table and headed for the back door. No question, he was taking his ordination seriously, even to the detriment of his own work, just as Preacher Manny and others of the ministerial brethren did. Elias not only embraced his divine calling, but his was truly a caring heart for the congregation.

The Lord knew what He was doing when He chose him. . . .

Rosanna carried the dishes to the sink, surprised again at how much stronger she felt lately.
Will I keep this wee one, Lord?
It was the question she dared not ponder too much, for she was so much in love with this baby, conceived in the midst of her great sadness over the loss of the Beiler babies. Little Eli and Rosie were growing like weeds now—she’d seen them again from afar, all bunched up with John and Kate and their other children in their carriage, on the way to Preaching service this very morning. She hadn’t winced at the sight of them sitting on Kate’s and her oldest daughter’s laps but waved as they came up closer on the road. Elias had done the same, and after the two buggies passed, neither he nor she had mentioned the twins or John and Kate. In fact, they’d said nary a word, which seemed odd to Rosanna now, thinking back on it. Yet what a blessing to realize her darling also held no animosity.

Washing the last dish, she reached for a tea towel. She glanced out the window, observing her husband. Perhaps he was discussing tractors and what they could and could not be used for in the fields, the subject of much talk these days. Now that fieldwork was going on all over Honey Brook, this fellow probably assumed he could make some time by using his tractor for transportation on the road, as she’d heard of others doing. Such was not permitted by the new ordinance, and several families had left the New Order church over this issue, joining up with the Beachys, who allowed more liberal use of tractors.

For herself, she much preferred to think about all the pretty yarn she planned to purchase this week with the money from her quilts. She wanted to begin crocheting baby afghans for Lena’s baby, whom Lena intended for the Amish midwife to bring directly to the Kings’, following his birth. Lena had started referring to herself as the “baby carrier,” declaring Rosanna the mother appointed by God. Because of her own secret pregnancy, Rosanna felt rather sheepish reading Lena’s touching letters, even though she cherished each one and saved them in a pretty wooden box Elias had built for her as a recent birthday gift.

Another glimpse outside showed Elias was still engaged in conversation, his arms folded—likely he would be busy for a while longer. Perhaps Rosanna should take this time now to reply to Lena.

With a prayer in her heart, she sat down to pen her most private thoughts, words that might completely change Lena’s mind.

Sunday, June 22
Dear Lena,

I can’t tell you how often I’ve been in prayer here. I truly believe with you that your baby is to become Elias’s and my own. And we will care for him as lovingly as we would a flesh-and-blood son.

There is more for you to know and to understand, though—something ever so dear to me. You see, I, too, am with child. It is my hope and prayer that I will carry the baby in my womb to term, something that has never happened before. Yet, if things continue as they are—and oh, how we pray they will—I’ll begin to show soon, and there will be talk wending your direction that I am in the family way.

I have only a small hope that this little one, who lies so close to my heart, will be born alive. Our baby’s sisters and brothers all reside in heaven now, with our Lord, whose will we desire in all things. Elias says he likes to think the angels are caring for them till we can get there to do that ourselves.

In the meantime, I am being ever so careful, seeing a doctor and taking bed rest, too, praying that this time these things will make a difference. Will you keep me in your daily prayers, just as I pray for you, dear sister in the Lord?

Thinking about Lena’s possible reaction, she dared not write for much longer. It might have been wiser to wait to tell this news to Lena in person, but the doctor had put the nix on any travel right now for more than twenty minutes at a time. And she needed someone to go along with her for even those short trips, which meant she’d be asking Linda Fisher to go with her to the yard-goods store this week.

Hoping Lena would not be disheartened by word of the pregnancy, Rosanna finished her letter and signed off, deciding to put her feet up while she awaited Elias’s return inside. In her heart of hearts, she hoped this revelation would not change Lena’s mind. But why should she worry about that, when it was the Lord who’d prompted Lena to offer her child in the first place?

I must remember the scripture to not be anxious.

Caleb paced near the window and waited in the kitchen for his mother to emerge from Daed’s room, hoping she might tell him more about Daed’s conversation with his cousin John. Could Daed be softening? Knowing his father, Caleb didn’t see how that was possible.

Even impending death wouldn’t deter Daed from his life course. The Old Ways were stamped on his heart.
“You’re either in the church or out. There’s
no betwixt and between,”
his father had always said.

In a few minutes, Mamm came into the kitchen, her face tearstained. She motioned for Caleb. “Your father’s askin’ for ya.”

He steeled his heart and made his way to the small room, where he stood in the door before entering. Daed looked to be sleeping.

Silently Caleb sat on the cane chair across from the bed, watching his father’s chest rise and fall. He sat there, hands folded, and understood for the first time something of the misery Nellie Mae and her family had endured when they lost Suzy.

Chris had said a person couldn’t prepare for something like a death in the family. No matter how you thought you might react, you never truly knew till the time came.

Has it come already?
He leaned forward, checking to see if his father was indeed breathing.
Slowly, jah . . . mighty slow.

But lest he become fearful, sitting in a room with death nipping at his father’s heels, he let his thoughts fly away to his cousin Chris. Truly, he was the happiest person Caleb had ever known, and he found himself comparing him to Rebekah.

So what was it they had that he lacked? They both claimed to be saved, he knew that. They also talked of a freedom they experienced. Nearly everything they did or said was somehow linked to God’s Son, their “Lord and Savior.”

From where he sat, he could see Rebekah and Leah through the window, returning from their walk. He wondered what things Rebekah was filling Leah’s head with now. Since her return visits, Rebekah had gone out of her way to attempt to influence each of her sisters for the new church.

Caleb smiled, allowing a speck of momentary pride.
She’ll have a hard time cornering me
.

Closing his eyes, he shut out the image of his helpless father. The last thing he wanted to hear today was a deathbed appeal.

After some time had passed, his father whispered, “Caleb.”

Jerking to attention, he sat up. “I’m here, Daed.”

“My cousin came to set me straight. . . .” His father’s voice faltered, then began again, stronger now. “He showed me what a stubborn soul I’ve been.”

Caleb didn’t know how to respond. Never before had his father admitted his wrongdoing, his too-stern ways. Such odd behavior—was it a result of being confined to this room and a wheelchair?

“Today I’m puttin’ my house in order, before it’s too late. And I want to start with you, son.” Daed smiled sadly. “You’ve endured unnecessarily harsh treatment over the years. You did nothin’ to deserve such severity. And I’m sorry.”

He’s apologizing?
Caleb was stunned. The words sounded out of place on his father’s lips. And yet, the old temptation to be resentful, even bitter, reared its ugly head.

“You must surely think I’ve gone ferhoodled.” Daed drew a slow breath, his eyelids fluttering. “But it was hellfire that put the fear of God in me. I want you to hear it from me. Otherwise if it’s secondhand, you might doubt it.”

“No need to, Daed. You get some rest now, ya hear?”

“Caleb . . .”

“You’re not yourself,” he insisted. “You’ve suffered terribly.”

“No, son, listen to me.”

He clenched his jaw. All of Nellie Mae’s arguments for her faith came rushing back. The strange and ridiculous way she’d behaved, throwing away their love, breaking their engagement for Manny’s church. Caleb chafed against the “alien gospel,” as he’d heard it called by his Daed and others. And now had his own father succumbed to it?

Daed continued. “I know it goes against the grain . . . to say I’ve been granted salvation.” He reached for a glass of water and his hand shook as he sipped through the straw. “John finally got me to see the truth. Ach, what a persistent soul . . . for so many years.”

How can this be?

“John said if I asked the Lord, He would make me a new creation, givin’ me His gift of grace and makin’ me fit for heaven. I know God’s forgiven me . . . and I’m hoping I might ask the same of you.”

Caleb shook his head, still uncomprehending. “Daed, I . . .”

“You don’t have to say anything now, Caleb. But I would like ya to do somethin’.” His father inhaled slowly. “I must speak to Reuben Fisher. Go fetch him and bring him here to me . . . straightaway.”

Such a strange request on top of even stranger words—nothing like Caleb had prepared himself to hear. “Jah, I’ll go.”