Wonderful Lonesome (11 page)

Instead she stared into brown eyes above ruddy cheeks on the face of Jake Heatwole.

Jake offered a warm, broad smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Gingerich. The Lord’s blessing be on you.”

“Thank you.” Ruthanna moved aside, wondering what refreshment she might offer. Perhaps bread and strawberry preserves. “Please come in.”

“I suppose you’re surprised to see me.”

Jake stepped into the room and removed his black hat nearly identical to Eber’s. He wore the same collarless black suit and white shirt the Amish men wore. The townspeople of Limon never understood the difference between Amish and Mennonite, but Ruthanna did. The Amish had parted ways from the Mennonites more than two hundred years ago. Ruthanna did not claim certainty about the original dispute or the sometimes hostile chasm it opened between the two groups, but she did feel certainty that she belonged to the heritage her family had claimed for generations. She had no need to test the liberties the Mennonites might allow upon which the Amish would likely frown—especially if they had a minister. Ruthanna would much rather rest secure in belonging to the true church.

Still, it was hard not to like Jake Heatwole. She wondered why he had never married.

“I’ve just come from Willem Peters’s,” Jake said. “He tells me that your Eber is still ill and that he has not truly been well since that day we all encountered one another at the train station.”

Ruthanna nodded and gestured to the only chair with a hint of padding on its seat. “Let me get you something.
Kaffi?
I have fresh cream.”

Jake sat in the chair but waved away her offer. “I have not come to cause you inconvenience. Quite the opposite. I want to help.”

“The men are doing the essential chores until Eber gets back on his feet.”

“So Willem tells me. He also says that he looks around and sees work that they cannot keep up with because of their own farms. The henhouse, for instance, has a hole in the roof that is only going to get bigger. And he says you never leave the farm because you do not want to leave Eber alone.”

Ruthanna nodded. This was all true. She depended heavily on Abbie and Esther to stop in and see if she needed anything from town before they went. Rain was unlikely, so she had not worried about the hole in the henhouse roof, though since her encounter with the coyote she wondered just how much of an opening the animal would require to wreak havoc.

“We’re getting by.” Ruthanna wiped her hands on her apron, turned a chair toward Jake, and sat down. “The others are doing everything they can to help.”

“Of course they are,” Jake said. “That is what the church does. I am here to help for the same reason.”

Ruthanna furrowed her brow. “But you are Mennonite. We are Amish.”

“We serve the same God.”

“But your own farm—”

“It’s in the capable hands of my two brothers. They know that I will move to Limon eventually to open a church there. They hardly let me lift a hand around the farm anymore.”

“Surely you must have a thousand things to do.”

“No doubt.” Jake leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “But this comes to the top of my list.”

“Mr. Heatwole, your offer is most generous, but—”

“We can talk it over with Eber. I propose to camp out behind your barn for two weeks. I won’t ask anything of you in the house except a bit of water if you can spare it. I’ll give the other men a break by looking after all the chores, and if you need to go into town or want to visit with your friend Abbie, you can do so knowing that someone is here with Eber.”

Ruthanna swallowed as she considered. What he suggested had merit. “Only for two weeks. Not a day more.”

Jake turned a palm up. “We all hope Eber will be better soon.”

“And only if Eber agrees.”

“Of course.”

The committee assembled at the crossroads that joined three farms. Two miles away was Noah Chupp’s land, with a promising vegetable garden despite the drought and a separate structure he used for a small tannery and cobbler’s shop. He made shoes for the
English
as well, along with other leather goods, and it seemed to Willem that Noah’s livelihood was thriving better than most. Willem was glad for the whole Chupp family, which included seven children under the age of twelve.

Willem never intended to be on this committee. Certainly he did not volunteer for it. Unlike Rudy, Willem hesitated to decline anything Eli Yoder asked him to do, so here he was with Eli. They stood beside their horses as they waited for the widower Samuels to join them. The trio would proceed together to hear Noah’s discernment of the Lord’s leading about becoming the first minister of the fledgling congregation, provided a bishop would agree to ordain him.

Martin Samuels trotted toward them, slowing his gelding but not dismounting.

Eli crossed his wrists in front of him. “Shall we have a word of prayer before we proceed?”

Willem hoped God had already made His will plain to Noah Chupp. Most congregations chose their ministers by lot, and the man chosen rarely had grounds to refuse. Noah already enjoyed the privilege of private discernment. But once again Willem found it impossible to refuse Eli.

“I agree,” Martin said. “If Noah feels the calling of God to take up this mantle, he will bear the burden of healing the divide among us. It will not be an easy task. Will we wait until he agrees before we explain why the bishop left last year?”

Eli’s eyes flashed at Willem before lowering in a posture of prayer. “We will not speak of that. We will pray only for our future.”

Willem would have been hard-pressed to say he was praying in the moments of silence that followed. Too many questions flashed through his mind. He did not even close his eyes, instead gazing first at Eli and then at Martin. Eli stood motionless, head bowed, eyes closed, feet shoulder width apart. On his horse Martin leaned over the horn of the saddle, one hand crossed above the other, with his eyes squeezed in peculiar fervency.

Rudy’s barn door was wide open in the middle of the morning. Abbie glanced at the cows dotting the nearest field and then turned toward the smaller horse pasture. The animals were all where they were supposed to be. She knocked on the house door as usual, heard no response, and went inside to leave the bread. Coming out again, it disturbed her to see the barn door open, and rather than climbing back into her cart, she strode over to the barn.

“Rudy?”

“In here.” A grunt accompanied his reply.

Visions of Eber sprawled in the straw spurred Abbie into the depths of the barn. “Where are you?”

“The end stall.”

Abbie kicked straw out of the walkway. When she saw him, Abbie gasped. A cow was secured in the stall, and Rudy had one arm well inside it.

“Time for the calf?” Abbie said. She had seen calves born on her own family’s farm in Ohio, but the wonder of it mesmerized her every time. “Is she all right?”

Rudy nodded, his eyes closed.

He was visualizing the position of the calf, Abbie knew.

“I have one foot and the nose,” he said. “Ah. There’s the other foot.”

Abbie moved into the stall. “How can I help?”

“Hand me the rope,” Rudy said. “It’s there on the wall.”

Abbie handed it to him and then leaned over his shoulder to peer into the mystery of life. Rudy secured the feet and prepared to pull if necessary. The cow began to strain, and as she did, Rudy checked the position of the calf once again.

“Will it be a normal birth?” Abbie asked.

“I think so. The mother is doing well. This is her third calf.”

Abbie held her breath, awaiting the cow’s next round of exertion.

“Here we go,” Rudy said, readjusting his position to brace for delivery.

Abbie stepped back to watch without further chatter until first the face, then one shoulder, then the other emerged. Rudy kept his hands positioned to respond to distress but otherwise let the natural process take its course. Within a few minutes, the calf lay in the straw beside its mother. Rudy examined the newborn quickly.

“Is it all right?” Abbie asked.

Rudy looked up and grinned. “A female, and she’s perfect.”

Abbie squatted to look more closely, taking in the angles of the legs and the curves of the head. “God is good.”

Rudy calmly tended to the mother. “I’m glad you were here to see the birth.”

“I am, too. I would have come ready to be more help if I had known.”

“She was fast. I only started watching her closely last night, and not much happened until this morning.”

“God has blessed you.” Abbie stepped out of the stall. “I’ll heat some water so you can clean up.”

“Danki.”

Abbie turned for one last look at mother, calf, and Rudy, a triangle of tenderness in a bed of straw. She had not seen such contentment on Rudy’s face in months—but perhaps she had not been looking.

Thank you for taking me to town with you.” Ruthanna offered Abbie a grateful smile.

“It was no trouble. I was going anyway, and it’s so much more fun to have you with me.” The reins were nearly slack in Abbie’s hands. Their business in Limon complete, they were in no rush to return to the chores that awaited them.

“We both did well with our eggs today,” Ruthanna said. “It seems to be the only thing that gives us a bit of cash these days. Imagine what would happen if the townspeople figured out they could keep chickens in back of their houses.”

“They don’t like the smell and the mess. So far there are enough merchants to take eggs from both us and the
English
farmers. God provides.”

“It doesn’t hurt that the railroads will buy as many eggs as they can get to feed their employees.”

Abbie chuckled. “Blessing comes in many forms.”

Ruthanna spread her arms out in front of her. “Fresh air! I’ve barely been out of the house in weeks. Jake insisted it would be good for me to have an outing. He promised he would stay inside the house with Eber the whole time I was gone.”

Abbie bit back the response that sprang to her mind. If Ruthanna had wanted to go somewhere, Abbie or one of her parents gladly would have stayed with Eber. Abbie visited every day, sometimes collecting eggs to sell in town, and Ruthanna never said she wished she could go, too. But she took advice from Jake Heatwole, that Mennonite minister who obviously was looking for people to help him start a congregation of his own.

“Have you heard anything new about Noah Chupp?” Ruthanna asked. “It’s already been four days since he told the committee he needed more time.”

Abbie nodded. Talking about the possibility of their own minister was a far more pleasant topic. “I think he wants to be very sure, and I cannot blame him. It’s an honor to be asked, and he will want to be sure of his motives before the Lord.”

Ruthanna peered down the road at her approaching farm. “I do hope Eber is all right.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Abbie clicked her tongue to speed the horse for Ruthanna’s sake. “He seemed much better this morning when we left.”

“He enjoys Jake’s company, even if he has reservations about the Mennonites.”

“If Eber is feeling well enough for company, I am sure our own men would be happy to see more of him.”

“Willem and Rudy have been by, of course. We’re out of the way for everyone else.”