The Longing (28 page)
With that, he left the room.
Shocked to see young Caleb looking mighty grim at the back stoop, Reuben immediately believed David had passed away. Mighty thankful to learn he was mistaken, he reached for his straw hat, agreeing to ride to the Yoders’ in Caleb’s courting buggy, oddly enough.
All Caleb had said was his father had asked to see him— nothing more. But as they rode, Caleb described his Daed’s declining health, as well as the man’s firm belief his end lurked just around the corner. Caleb was forthright, saying he had no idea what his father wanted with Reuben.
At first Nellie thought she must be dreaming where she sat at the window, reflecting on the day’s sermon.
When she heard a horse and carriage come rushing into the drive, she turned and looked out, amazed. She gasped at the sight of Caleb Yoder sitting tall in his courting buggy.
Well, what on earth?
She remembered the last time he’d come unannounced. But knowing how fragile his father’s health was, she worried.
Moments later she heard Dat’s voice downstairs. Then, of all things, if Caleb didn’t whisk Dat away, driving lickety-split back down the drive, toward the main road.
She had no reason not to assume that David had passed away, but if that were true, why was Caleb taking Dat back with him? At this, Nellie was beyond befuddled, and she dropped to her knees in prayer.
When Reuben arrived at the Yoder farm with Caleb, Elizabeth greeted him somberly and led him to a downstairs room, where David lay on the bed, flat on his back, eyes shut. “He’s resting,” Elizabeth reassured Reuben and then left.
Reuben considered the situation. Here he was finally at David’s bedside, after months of repeated rebuffs.
Why has he called for me?
David’s wrinkled eyelids fluttered open and he fixed his gaze on Reuben. “Denki . . . thank you for comin’.”
“Glad to, David.” He nodded.
“I daresay I don’t have long for this world,” David said in low tones. “I’ve been given a warning this day . . . by an English cousin of mine.” He drew a labored breath. “I’m in danger of eternity without God unless I repent.” He closed his eyes, and a tear squeezed out and slid down his ruddy face. “I’m guilty of callin’ you a fool, Reuben Fisher. . . . I’ve looked down on you for chasin’ after this new faith, thinkin’ you and the others were bent on destroying the People with prideful ways. Turns out . . . I was the one in the wrong.”
Reuben was dumbfounded.
David reached out his hand. “I plead for your forgiveness.” Reuben gripped David’s hand, the lump in his throat crowding out his very breath.
“You’re entitled to your way of thinkin’, Reuben—if it’s assurance of salvation you want, then so be it.” David’s face was ashen; he was spent.
“I forgave you months ago, David. Truly, I did.”
David blinked his eyes open, then shut, then open again. “I was the fool.”
“We’re brothers.”
“That we are . . . I’ve laid down my will for God’s,” David said softly. “At long last.” A tear trickled down his cheek. “I wanted you to hear this directly from me.”
Overjoyed, Reuben clung to David’s hand.
David went on. “I’ll die in peace, whenever the Lord wills it.”
“Maybe He’ll raise you up . . . make you whole.”
“No need for that now. Dying has brought me life, Reuben. Tell all the People, won’t ya?”
If Reuben had not heard this with his own ears, he might not have believed it. “I’ll tell the brethren first.”
“And ask your cousin Manny to stop by. I need to be speakin’ to him, too.” David went on, his voice a throaty murmur. He was saying he wanted to ask both the bishop and Preacher Manny to preach at his funeral. Reuben took mental notes, not questioning whatsoever as David uttered his last wishes. This was a man who had always known what he wanted, and he was going to have it. Reuben would see to that.
Betsy stroked her husband’s hair as they rested together later that night. “What you’re tellin’ me is nothing short of a miracle,” she said.
“I’ve been thanking God for His mercy,” her dear husband said.
She kissed his face. “Wouldn’t it be somethin’ if David lives for longer than he expects?”
Reuben smiled. “I hope that, too.”
“Meanwhile, what’ll Elizabeth do? Surely she knows from David’s lips what he’s told you.”
“Oh, she knows.”
“Will she follow in her husband’s footsteps?”
“Who’s to say?” Reuben looked up at her. “The Lord is at work.”
And Caleb . . . what of him?
She realized how such a fork in the road for the Yoder family—which would certainly include the Bann—might change things for Nellie Mae, as well. Betsy assumed Nellie had started attending Sunday Singings again with the New Order youth. It was also rather apparent from his frequent visits to the shop that Caleb’s cousin Chris Yoder was sweet on their dear girl, though probably that would prove a passing fancy.
It wasn’t as if Nellie was sitting around waiting for her first beau to catch up to her spiritually. All the same, Betsy couldn’t begin to know what was in her daughter’s heart.
Nellie Mae was alone in the bakery shop when Christian Yoder inched his car right up to the front and parked. She couldn’t have planned the timing any better if she’d had a thing to say about it. Actually, she was surprised at her happiness to see him . . . and he was right on schedule, too. After all, this was Thursday afternoon; she
should
be expecting him.
Watching him get out of his car, she suddenly questioned if his afternoon visit was the reason for Nan’s and Mamma’s disappearance earlier.
Well, surely not,
she thought, a bit bemused.
He strode up with confidence, as though on a mission. And for the first time, he lacked the look of adolescence evident in most fellows his age. His hair was neatly combed, as always.
As fair-haired as Caleb,
she thought.
For a moment, she wondered what it might be like for the three of them to be friends. Naturally, that was no longer possible, in spite of the amazing news Dat had shared of David Yoder’s embracing salvation. Even so, she thought of Caleb and experienced a fleeting envy at Chris’s weekly contact with him.
The door opened, and Chris smiled his way inside. “Hi again, Nellie Mae.”
“Hullo, Chris.”
He took in the small shop with a glance and was not subtle about noticing she was there by herself. “What pies do you have today?” he asked.
“Well, if it’s pies you’re interested in . . .” She caught herself for being so bold. “I do have several kinds of cookies, too.”
His eyes searched hers. So much so that she felt nearly ill at ease; yet she did not look away as she might have with a stranger. “Nellie, I’ve been thinking.” He paused, as if weighing his words. “And please be honest with me . . . if I’m overstepping . . .” His voice trailed off. He seemed unnerved.
What’s he going to say?
His smile reappeared. “What I mean is, how would you like to go for ice cream sometime . . . with me?”
He was obviously ferhoodled, so she wanted to make this easy for him. “When were you thinkin’?” she asked, realizing too late that she should’ve said something less forward.
His smile spread clear across his handsome face. “So, you
do
like ice cream. . . .”
She tried without success to keep her own smile in check.
“Ach, who doesn’t?”
“When would you be free to go?”
“Well, only after dark . . . of an evening. That’s
our
way, though. Is that what you had in mind?” She felt terribly odd taking the lead this way, but she had no choice—not if they weren’t going to be found out.
And, oh, we will be
. Surely they would, the way Nan had talked about Chris while weeding the garden with her that day in May.
Nearly staring a hole through her, he pressed his hands on the counter. “I’d like to get to know you better. But I also want to respect your . . . customs.”
She nodded. “After dark, then.”
“Is tonight too soon?” His gaze softened, as if with hope.
“Tonight’s just fine.” She told him that she would meet him up the road. “I’ll come on foot,” she said. He agreed . . . and left without choosing a pie or cookies or any sweets at all. She refused the giggle that threatened to burst out as she watched him hop into his car again.
Mamma mustn’t find out what I’m up to,
Nellie thought, deciding she’d only go with Chris Yoder just this once.
Adding a few extra hours of waitressing each week would be precisely what Rhoda needed to help get out of her financial bind. After a little over a week of not seeing Ken Kraybill—not even encountering him in the hallways of his own house— Rhoda had realized their dating relationship was most likely finished.
Time to move on,
she decided as she returned a smile to the two fellows at one of her restaurant tables.
One of them seemed quite nice, and she imagined what it might be like to have dinner with him. She found it surprising that she didn’t miss Ken as much as she thought she might. Of course there were moments when she missed talking with him, especially last Friday night, after getting off work. Still, she was convinced there was a fine, good-looking man for her somewhere out there. Someone who wanted to marry and start a family.
I wouldn’t mind if he likes to watch television, too,
she thought. She’d acquired a taste for
The Lucy Show
while babysitting the Kraybill children once the little ones were tucked into bed.
When she’d asked about working more than her regular hours, Mrs. Kraybill had agreed to put her at the top of her list for baby-sitters
—“but only if it doesn’t interfere with your social life,”
Mrs. Kraybill had said. Her employer seemed aware that Ken was no longer in the picture, which was interesting to Rhoda. She wouldn’t have pegged him as the type to talk to his aunt about matters of the heart.
Rhoda considered whether she might somehow scrape together enough money to buy a small TV set, so she’d have something entertaining to do on the evenings she wasn’t working late. That is, if she didn’t land a new beau soon.
“Would you like to order
dessert?” she asked the men at her table.
“What’s your favorite?” asked the blond man.
“Maybe we’ll order something for you, if you’d like to join us.” The taller man patted the seat.
She blushed. “Do I look like I’m off work?” Then she laughed.
They nodded enthusiastically. “C’mon, don’t you want some pie or ice cream?” asked the first fellow. “You know you do.”
As appealing as a break sounded, she wasn’t going to while away her time and get herself fired.
Trying to be more professional, she asked, “What would the two of you like?”
The more handsome of the two leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “A banana split sounds good,” he said. “And bring an extra spoon, just in case.” He winked at her and then pulled out a card from his shirt pocket. “Call me anytime.”
She accepted the card, noticing his name—Ted Shupp— and that he owned a welding shop on the outskirts of Honey Brook. Come to think of it, she’d seen it. “We don’t have banana splits on the menu,” she told him.
Ted pretended to pout. “Aw, can’t you go and whip up something, Rhoda?”
She was surprised he knew her name and then realized it was pinned on her dress. She laughed at herself, but the flirty Ted must’ve thought she was laughing at him, because he waved her over closer. “Tell you what: I’ll take you out for a banana split later, okeydokey?”
She gave him a careful look, trying to decide if this attractive fellow could be trusted. She didn’t want a repeat of her dreadful night with Glenn Miller last winter. “I’ll meet you at the ice cream parlor at nine o’clock,” she said, thinking it wiser to drive herself tonight.
Nellie Mae thought of any number of reasons she might have given Chris Yoder to refuse his ice cream date. Yet here she was, scurrying up the road, hoping neither Nan nor Mamma suspected where she was going. And how could they not suspect something? After all, she’d waited till dusk to slip away without saying good-bye—a telltale sign she was meeting someone.
I can hear Nan now, when she corners me.
She smiled, knowing however prying her sister might be, no amount of teasing would keep Nellie from meeting Chris tonight.
Caleb’s cousin, no less.
The thought had clouded her thinking during supper. Was she only willing to spend time with Chris because he was related to her former beau?
She recalled how comfortable she’d felt around Chris the evening he drove her home—she’d nearly forgotten she was with an outsider. Maybe it was because she, too, was on the periphery, by Old Order standards.
She noticed the field grasses in the warm twilight. When had they grown to nearly waist-high? She hadn’t gone to the woods at all since last fall, although she’d promised herself she would. Was she so hesitant to see the uncoiled ferns of deep summer . . . the rainbow of wild flowers? The sweetly scented air would be filled with the sounds of crickets at this time of day. All happy reminders of Suzy.
She sighed, realizing her nightly dreams of Suzy had ceased. And worse, she hadn’t noticed, till now.
Suzy’s description of the last weeks of her life was still clear in Nellie’s mind, though—weeks that Chris’s brother Zach had helped to make some of her very best.
Jah, there are plenty of reasons to have ice cream with Christian Yoder tonight,
Nellie told herself.
The ride to Honey Brook was as pleasant as the last time she’d ridden with Chris. He’d greeted Nellie with an infectious smile, as he always did at the shop. Then, once she was settled inside, he hurried around the front of the car and jumped in behind the wheel, fast as a wink. Maybe to set her at ease, he asked if she minded listening to his favorite radio station, which turned out to be one that played fast hymns. At least, he said they were church songs, but the fancy-sounding melodies could’ve fooled her, despite lyrics that seemed drawn from the Bible.
The music got them talking for a while about the kinds of songs he sang as a member of his church. “You’ve already joined?” she asked.
