Treasuring Emma (5 page)

She heard her horse, Dill, whinny in her stall. The chestnut mare snorted as Emma hung the lantern on a hook on the wall. Hazy light filled the barn, enough to see that Dill was limping when she made her way over to the feed trough.

A knot formed in Emma’s stomach. Was it the leg or the foot? She knelt down beside the mare and lifted the horse’s hoof, but couldn’t see anything lodged there. She’d have to call for a vet. She couldn’t allow Dill to become lame. She rose and patted the horse’s flank. “We’ll get your leg taken care of.” Another bill.

The words echoed in her head:
God will provide
. Well, maybe if she just prayed harder, God would rain money from the sky. She felt a twist of guilt at the sarcastic thought.

Emma moved from the stall to the laying boxes on the other side of the barn. When she thrust her hand beneath one of the brown birds, all six chickens panicked and flew away. Emma filled the egg basket and tossed a couple of handfuls of chicken feed on the barn floor.

A few grains landed on Tommy’s back; he didn’t seem to notice. He crouched by his dish, meowing. Shelby sat by her bowl on the other side. Emma filled their food bowls with kibble.

Both cats pounced on the crunchy bits of food. Their purrs filled the barn as faint, rose-hued sunlight sifted through the slats.

The mutts, Rodney and Archie, must have crept out of the barn in the night. They often went out exploring the woods behind the house. Molly was probably still under the porch, where she stayed most of the time. She filled all their food bowls, extinguished the lantern, and left the barn.

Dawn cast an ethereal light over the familiar landscape. As she turned to go to the house, Emma stopped to look at the large, dilapidated shed that had been her grandfather’s workshop over forty years ago. After his retirement the building had been used for storage, and had been pretty much ignored since her father’s death.

Emma thought it would make a perfect dog kennel, but it would take a lot of work and money to turn it into one. For years she had held a secret desire to establish an animal rescue center—a dream she’d never told anyone except Adam. He had shown little enthusiasm. But then again, he’d never owned any pets; his father had forbidden them. The only animals Norman Otto spent money on were the ones that would pay him back after a trip to the slaughterhouse.

Emma had always been attached to the animals. Most people here figured that when an animal died, it was simply part of the ebb and flow of life. But Emma mourned each one of them. She treated her dogs and cats and horse like family—even the chickens held a special place in her affection. She would love to spend her time rescuing neglected and abused animals. But no one in Middlefield would understand it.

Her eyes drifted from the shed to the house itself. The soft light of morning illuminated the lines and planes of the house, outlining the gables in gold and shadowing the porch in silver. She could almost see it as it once had been—a sturdy, beautiful farmhouse built for a large family, situated on five acres of prime property.

At one time her grandparents’ house had been in pristine condition, and Emma’s parents had made sure it stayed that way. But then her father died, and her mother was diagnosed with cancer, and Emma had all she could do to care for her mother and grandmother and keep herself from falling apart. The last three years had taken a heavy toll on the house, the shop, even the land.

Emma longed to bring the place back, to restore everything to the way it used to be.

The house. The property.

Her life.

Clara and Peter ate their breakfast in silence, speaking only to discipline the children, who were full of their usual endless energy. She picked up Magdalena from her high chair and wiped the strawberry jelly off her pink cheeks.

“Junior, Melvin.”

Both boys looked up at their father.
“Ya, Daed?”

“Could you gather the eggs for me?”

Junior nodded and retrieved his hat from the peg by the door. He picked up the egg basket and looked back at his father. “Are you coming?”

“
Nee
. I’m taking your
mammi
to your
Aenti
Emma’s today.”

“Can’t she walk there?”

“
Ya
, but I want to give her a ride. Now, enough questions.” He tapped Junior on the brim of his hat. “
Geh
, do what I asked you to do.”

The two young boys scrambled out of the house, fighting to see who could get to the chicken coop first. Their boyish screaming grated on Clara’s nerves.

Peter wiped his mouth and beard with the napkin. “Will you be ready to leave in a few minutes?”

“
Ya
. After I wash the dishes, change the
boppli
, sweep the floors, find something to cook for supper tonight, and get properly dressed.”

“So five minutes, then?”

Clara looked at him, not amused by the teasing grin on his face. His good-natured smile disappeared. “Anything I can do to help?”

Get a job
.

“
Nee
. I’ll get it all done. You should check on the
buwe
and make sure they’re not having a fight with the raw eggs.”

He snatched his hat off the peg and went outside. The door slammed behind him. Clara didn’t turn around.

Her ire grew as she finished her chores, and reached its limit when she looked at the sparse pantry. How could she make so few ingredients last all week? She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, dislodging her
kapp
. For the past year she had tried to be supportive of her husband. She struggled to understand the economy—how no one was hiring construction workers right now. The building boom hadn’t slowed down just in Middlefield, but all the way to Cleveland and beyond.

What she didn’t understand was why Peter wouldn’t do anything else. Why he wouldn’t at least check the want ads in the paper. Or tell other people in the community that he needed work.

God will provide
, he said. Sounded a lot like a holy handout to Clara. What her dim-witted husband didn’t understand was that God helps those who help themselves, not the ones who sit around and wait for good fortune to happen.

Guilt assaulted her, but the feeling didn’t last long. What did she have to feel guilty about? If she were a man, she’d be able to find work. Maybe even start her own business.

Start my own business
. . .

Peter came back into the kitchen. “The buggy’s ready. Junior and Melvin went down the street to play with the Keims’
buwe
.
Fraa
Keim said she didn’t mind watching them while we’re gone.”

“I’ll be ready right away.”

She slipped a light purple dress over Magdalena’s chubby body, a sudden idea churning in her mind. It could work. And someone had to think about the future—not only her family’s, but her sister’s and grandmother’s.

If she didn’t, no one else would.

“Let’s
geh
.” Magdalena in her arms, Clara hurried past Peter and walked out the door.

He followed behind. “Now you’re eager to get going? Just a minute ago you weren’t in that much of a hurry.”

“The day’s wasting.” Clara clutched her daughter and climbed into the buggy. Peter joined her and they were on their way.

Within ten minutes, they pulled up in front of the farmhouse. Clara handed the baby to Peter. “Can you watch her for a while? I need to talk to Emma. Privately.”

“About what?”

“Things.”

Doubt entered his eyes. “What kind of things?”

“Just . . . things.”

“I don’t like the idea of keeping secrets from each other, Clara.”

“Like you asking Emma to move in with us?”

His gaze narrowed. “That wasn’t a secret. I was trying to help our
familye
.” He tucked Magdalena into the crook of his arm. “Guess I’ll visit Dave Fisher a few doors down.”

But Clara didn’t respond. She had already jumped out of the buggy and was heading to her grandparents’ house. She kept her back turned until she heard Peter leave. Then she knocked on the door.

Emma answered it.

“I need to talk to you.”

“
Gude mariye
to you too.” Emma opened the door a little wider. “Do you want to come in, or do we have to stand on the porch?”

“I’ll come in.” Clara couldn’t keep the impatience from her voice. The more she thought about her plan, the more it made sense. She had to convince Emma of that.

She followed her sister into the kitchen. Emma walked to the sink and turned on the water. The ends of the strands of her white
kapp
were twisted together and hung down her back. “I’ve got to finish the breakfast dishes.”

“Can’t you do that later? I want you to listen to what I have to say.” She paused. “It’s important.”

“Fine.” Emma walked over to the table and sat down. “But make it quick; I have a lot of work to do around here.”

“I know you do.” Clara sat across from her. She folded her hands and put them on the table, her thin fingers intertwining with each other. Emma placed one stubby hand on the table.

Clara leaned forward. “Now that the funeral is over, we need to talk about your future.”

“Can’t this wait? We just buried
Mammi
yesterday.”

“Emma, I don’t mean to sound unfeeling about
Mammi
, but we all knew this would happen. We should be grateful that God took her when He did so she didn’t have to suffer long.”

Emma clenched her fists on the tabletop. “She suffered enough. You weren’t here, Clara. You didn’t have to force her to eat, or sponge the sweat off her body, or listen to her cry out in the middle of night, her body filled with pain.”

“I would have helped if I could. I had to take care of my
familye
.”

“And since I don’t have a
family
e, I had to take care of her.”

“If you resented it so much, you should have said something.”

“I didn’t resent
Mammi
.” Emma’s shoulders slumped. Her voice was low, filled with grief. “I would never resent her.”

Clara leaned forward. “Emma, what’s past is past. We need to focus on the future.”

“I already told Peter we don’t want to move in with you.” As if she realized how harsh her words sounded, she added, “Your
haus
is too small. The
kinner
deserve room to run and play. Not two more adults to displace them.”

“But you do understand he meant well. We’re both concerned about you and
Grossmammi
living in this big
haus
all by yourself. She’s having trouble getting around.”

“She does fine.”

“She can barely walk.”

“She has arthritis. You make it sound like she has one foot in the grave.” Emma popped up from the chair. “We’ve been surviving quite well without your help, and we will continue to do so.”

“Emma, sit down.” Clara lowered her voice. “Please. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Emma glared at her sister for a moment. Finally she sat back down.

“Emma, I know you don’t want to hear this. But it’s important. You can’t take care of this place.”

“I’ve been taking care of it just fine.”

“But you shouldn’t have to. Not alone.”

Emma frowned. “Are you talking about moving in with us?” A hint of challenge gave an edge to her voice.

“Why would we want to move?” It was more of an evasion than an outright lie, but close enough to make Clara uncomfortable with herself. “Peter is very happy with our
haus
.”

“Are you?”

Clara paused. “It’s adequate. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I’m sure you have bills from
Mammi’s
illness,
ya
?”

Emma looked away.

“Do you have any marriage prospects?”

Her eyes hardened. “You know I don’t.”

“Then you have to figure out a way to support yourself. And this
haus
and property. And
Grossmammi—
”

Emma held up her hand. “You made your point.”

“You don’t have to get curt with me.” Clara buttoned up her jacket and touched the top of her
kapp
. “I’m speaking out of love for you and
Grossmammi
. Think about her for a minute. Do you really want her to live in a run-down
haus
? To barely have enough food to eat? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t take things seriously.”