Steadfast Mercy

by Ruth Reid

  “Anchor did well, and your advice is appreciated.” He took a bite of meat loaf and readied another forkful as he chewed. “Have you heard anything about Edna planning to sell her farm?”

  “Nay. Did she tell you she was? Where would she go?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe to the U.P. I don’t know.” Jonica hadn’t mentioned what Edna’s plans were once she sold the farm. “Her niece—”

  A knock at the front door claimed his mother’s attention and she left the room.

  Caleb took another bite, then hearing Darleen’s voice in the other room, washed the food down with a gulp of milk.

  “He is eating supper nau,” Mamm said. “Can you kumm back tomorrow?”

  Caleb pushed away from the table, grabbing his napkin to wipe his face on the way to the door. It wasn’t like Darleen to go out after dark, especially alone. “This is a nice surprise. What brings you over?”

  She glanced toward his mother, then lowered her head.

  “Don’t forget your food,” Mamm said on her way back to the kitchen. “It’ll get kalt if you leave it too long.”

  He’d eaten plenty of cold meat loaf sandwiches from the leftovers for lunch and could eat green beans cold too, so when he replied, “Okay,” it was only to appease his mother. He waited until she was back in the kitchen, then turned his attention to Darleen. “Do you want to kumm inside?”

  “Nay, will you kumm out here?” She stepped back, giving him space to swing the door open.

  The moment he stepped onto the porch, coldness penetrated his socked feet. He should have grabbed his boots and coat on the way out the door. He crossed his arms but it did nothing to block the night air. “What’s on your mind?”

  She glanced toward the kitchen window as if checking to see if his mother was spying on them, then motioned for him to follow her to the other end of the porch. The soft yellow glow from the lantern in the sitting room lit her face enough that he noticed the worry lines stretched across her forehead. “What’s wrong, Darleen?”

  “I need to know where you and I stand. You’ve been distant ever since Peter died.”

  His stomach clenched at the mention of his brother’s name. The old house wasn’t airtight and if his daed was still sitting in his chair . . . Caleb glimpsed in the window and breathed easier finding his father’s chair vacant. “It’s been difficult.” He wanted to leave it at that and not have to explain how Peter’s death had fractured his family. “It’s only been a few months since Peter . . . went on to be with the Lord. It takes time to . . .” forgive and forget.

  “Jah, I know, and I understand that. Really, I do. But I need to know about us. Have things changed?”

  She was searching for a deeper commitment from him, something he was incapable of giving at the moment.

  “Is there still an us?” she continued without giving him time to respond, her words running together. “I don’t know where I stand in your life, and quite honestly, I’m growing weary of waiting. I want to get married,” she blurted, not showing the slightest shame in her boldness. “I want a husband and kinner. I want what mei friends all have.”

  He lowered his head. In their district most couples married after courting a year, and they were nearing that time period. But things had changed—he had changed. “I’m nett the same person I was a few months ago.”

  “Peter’s death wasn’t your fault.”

  He looked down at his feet, his toes curled under in his socks. She didn’t know the whole story—he’d take that to his grave.

  Darleen pulled her cloak tighter to her chest. “Is there a reason for me to continue waiting for you?”

  Hearing the crack in her voice, he lifted his gaze. Tears glossed her eyes as she waited for his answer. “I don’t have anything to offer you,” he replied. The old Victorian house he’d been restoring now sat boarded up. “You said you want what your friends have, but what I have would never be enough.”

  “Jah, it is.” She moved closer, placing her palms against his chest. “I promise it’ll be enough.”

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. Darleen had a tendency to be overzealous and certainly forthright when she wanted something. But he wasn’t sure he liked her competitive nature, especially when it came to marriage. Just because her friends had found husbands didn’t mean he and Darleen had to rush to the altar.

  “We’ll be able to afford our own place when you start up your construction company again.”

  He stepped back. “I told you that I wasn’t ever going back to building.”

  She frowned. “I know nett right away.”

  “Nett ever.” Frustration elevated his voice. He rubbed the back of his neck. Why couldn’t she accept that he’d closed the business? He wasn’t a builder.

  Darleen remained silent a moment, then lifted her face upward and pinned him with a composed smile. “Will you be coming over for supper tomorrow nacht? It’s mei birthday and Mamm wants to plan accordingly.”

  He reached for her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t forget about your birthday. Tell your mamm I’ll be there.”

  “At six?”

  He nodded. “I won’t miss it.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” She sashayed away only to pause at the porch steps to look over her shoulder. “Think about our conversation. I won’t wait forever, Caleb Schulmann.”

  Chapter 5

  “Mamm?” Stephen cried out.

  Jonica lit the lantern, slipped into her robe, then quickly tiptoed across the hall and into her son’s room.

  Stephen sat up. “Mamm?”

  “I’m right here, sweetie.” She placed the lantern on the nightstand and sat next to him on the bed, her palm instinctively going to his forehead. “Did you have a bad dream?”

  “Jah, I saw a car coming straight toward me.” He tossed off the bedcovers, crawled up on her lap, and rested his head on her shoulder, mumbling something about the man who had saved him.

  “I’m here nau.” She rubbed his back, hoping a little reassurance that she was nearby would help him fall back asleep. Nightmares had plagued him since the accident to the point where lack of sleep had weakened his body. His fever had broken but his forehead felt clammy. Since he was unfamiliar with his surroundings, she should have anticipated he’d wake up in a panic and fixed a place on the floor next to his bed for her to sleep.

  Jonica rocked her son in her arms, humming softly “Jesus Loves Me.” Her eyes stung with tears as memories of her mother’s sweet voice invaded her thoughts. Mamm had sung the same song to Jonica every time she’d been rocked as a child. It wasn’t long before Stephen’s body relaxed and then went limp.

  Unwilling to put him down just yet, she savored the serene moment. Life was too short, too unpredictable, to waste this precious time. Her boppli was growing up so fast. A heaviness settled in her chest as her gaze moved from the dusting of freckles on his nose to his long lashes grazing his cheek. So much like his father, how could they not . . . ?

  Jonica hugged Stephen closer and rested her cheek against his head, her thoughts taking her back to how elated she’d been to hold him for the first time. Before her mother had taken him to clean him up and wrap him in a blanket, Jonica had counted his fingers and toes, awed with love for her newborn son and petrified at the same time.

  She held Stephen a few minutes longer, then eased him down on the mattress and tucked the covers around him. The sun would be up soon, so there wasn’t much sense for her to try to go back to sleep now. She returned to her bedroom and removed a pen and paper from her belongings. Now was as good a time as any to keep the promise she’d made to Ephraim and send word they had arrived in Posen.

  Dear Ephraim,

  I hope this letter finds you and the children well. I wanted to let you know that Stephen and I made it to Posen safely. The trip was overly long, making several stops along the way. The excitement of riding the big bus wore Stephen out . . .

  She skipped the part about Stephen not sleeping
through the night. Ephraim was convinced the boy needed more structure in order to overcome the trauma associated with losing his grandparents. But Ephraim’s structured discipline with his own children often involved a stern hand.

  A firm approach wasn’t Jonica’s way—not at a time like this. Stephen had been very close to her parents, his grandfather in particular. Her son needed love and reassurance over discipline, and if she spoiled him a little, so be it. God would understand that children grieved too.

  It was so nice to see Aenti Edna again. I’m looking forward to spending time with her . . .

  Jonica tapped the pen against the paper. It shouldn’t be this hard to write a letter to her prospective husband, should it?

  Please be sure to tell the children hello from us.

  Sincerely,

  Jonica

  She set the pen down. Perhaps she would have more to talk about in the next letter. Ephraim’s marriage proposition replayed in her mind as she folded the letter and stuffed it in the envelope.

  “I have four youngsters and nay fraa . . . and you have no one nau.” Jonica lingered on the last part of Ephraim’s comment with a heavy-laden heart. Was it his intent to disregard Stephen? She didn’t know Ephraim well enough to settle the questions swirling in her mind. He couldn’t know much about her either. She hadn’t told anyone about her past. Plus, they hadn’t even courted properly, and he was asking for her hand in marriage. But maybe courtship wasn’t necessary since they wouldn’t have a real marriage. Their arrangement would be more of a contract to raise his kinner, so to speak, and in turn, she would have someone to rely on.

  With her father’s lumberyard closed for the winter and having to dip into her savings to purchase bus tickets, she and Stephen would face an uphill battle to make ends meet without emptying her savings completely. More stores in Cedar Ridge had agreed to sell her rugs on consignment, but she wasn’t holding her breath she would see any money until next spring when tourism picked up.

  Jonica placed a stamp on the envelope. Ephraim needed her, or at least his children needed someone to balance out their father’s strong hand with love. Most importantly, Stephen would have siblings and a father. She had prayed he wouldn’t grow up an only child, that she would find an Amish husband who would raise Stephen as his own.

  It was her duty to provide stability for Stephen. Even if it meant marrying someone who wasn’t in love with her—nor she with him.

  She turned the envelope over, ready to pull it back out and add another line stating she would accept his proposal, but a burning sensation rose in the back of her throat. Nay rash decisions—think it through. She needed wisdom. Jonica knelt beside the bed and folded her hands.

  “Lord, is it Your will that I marry Ephraim? He’s a respected man, a minister in the district. Give me wisdom to do Your will, Lord. Amen.”

  Feeling better about her decision to wait on the Lord, Jonica stood. If God’s plan for her life included marrying Ephraim, God would also give him a heart of patience.

  Chilled from kneeling on the floor, she tied the belt of her robe securely around her waist, then went downstairs to stoke the woodstove. She might as well ready the cookstove for breakfast.

  The cold floors in the old, drafty house reminded Jonica of the middle of winter. She glanced out the front window, half expecting snow on the ground. Instead of a vision in white, she gazed over the beautiful array of red, orange, and golden leaves that carpeted the lawn. Childhood memories of her father raking the lawn while she played in the piled leaves engulfed her thoughts.

  Jonica turned away from the window. Reminiscing was dangerous. She had severed ties with Posen years ago, and she couldn’t let emotions rule her now.

  She grabbed the last piece of wood from the crate, tossed it on the embers, then adjusted the damper. The place should warm up soon. Next, she journeyed into the kitchen. The ashes were cold in the cookstove, and the ash pan looked as though it hadn’t been emptied in weeks. It was beginning to make sense why her aunt wanted to sell the place. She just couldn’t keep up with things.

  Jonica slipped her feet into a pair of mud boots she found by the back door and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. She removed the ash pan from the bottom of the stove, careful not to spill the cinders and soot as she carried it outside. Ashes were good for the garden in that the wood residue provided minerals, such as potassium, calcium, magnesium, and phosphorus, to the soil. But the garden area was full of weeds. Overgrown after years of neglect.

  When her family lived on the farm, she, her mother, and Aenti put in a large garden every spring, spending the entire summer and fall canning everything harvested. At the time Jonica hadn’t fully appreciated all the hard work it took to prepare for winter. Now, she would give anything to spend one more day in the kitchen working with her mother.

  Jonica flung the ashes. As the fine particles of dust fluttered toward the ground, a sudden swift breeze blew the soot back in her face. She coughed hard to clear her lungs.

  “It’d probably be wise to test the wind direction before you empty the pan,” Caleb said from behind her.

  Jonica turned toward him, clutching the empty ash pan against her chest. “What are you doing here?”

  He crooked his brow and grinned.

  “I mean, what are you doing here so early?” She scanned the yard, spotting his buggy for the first time parked under the lean-to.

  “I wanted to get an early start in case it rains.”

  She followed his gaze to the sky. Dark-gray clouds hung low on the horizon, blocking a good share of the morning sun.

  Caleb reached for the pan. “Let me carry that to the haus for you.”

  “Nay!” She took a step back as embarrassment heated her face. No worthwhile woman should ever be caught in her state of undress, but here she was, standing before a man with her hair down and wearing a robe. “Danki, though.” She stumbled over the clunky mud boots as she sped toward the house.

  Surely, if the bishop discovered her parading in front of Caleb dressed this way, she would be run out of the district. A disgrace to her father’s good name, and after Daed worked so hard and suffered so much to keep Jonica in good standing with the community, she’d do everything in her power to keep her father’s name pure.

  * * *

  Caleb watched Jonica dart across the lawn and up the porch steps. What was she doing outside, dressed like that, on a chilly day like today? Or any day for that matter. Pneumonia would be knocking on her door if she wasn’t careful.

  She was a beauty. Her dark hair swept side to side across her waistline as she ran. Caleb shook his head. Get the image out of your head. He was practically engaged—if Darleen had her way.

  Caleb released his buggy mare into the corral, then went inside the barn to get Anchor. “It’s going to be a long day, bu.” The young Clydesdale had proven yesterday that he had plenty of endurance. He patted the horse’s neck. “I hope you’re up for another hard one.”

  He led Anchor out of the stall and over to the support post that held the tackle. As he harnessed the horse, his thoughts returned to Jonica. He didn’t know much about the folks in Cedar Ridge, but it seemed reasonable to believe she’d be in trouble with her bishop if she was seen scantily dressed in her district. Unless she was no longer Old Order Amish but instead belonged to one of the new-order versions. That idea was difficult to digest since her father had been one of the ministers before he pulled up roots and moved his family to the Upper Peninsula. Even so, women were supposed to dress modestly—and when they didn’t, it was his duty to rebuke unclean thoughts.

  A thumping noise outside drew Caleb’s attention. He left the barn and, rounding the corner of the building, spotted Jonica restacking firewood against the shed wall. She was dressed more appropriately in an evergreen-colored dress, black apron, and bonnet, so he approached.

  “I would ask if you need help, but I’m sure you would decline.” He bent down and picked up several pieces of wood.

  “You
think you know me that well, do you?”

  “Just a guess.” He placed the logs on the pile. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you earlier.”

  Her cheeks reddened, giving her face a warm glow. “I humiliated myself. I don’t normally—”

  He held up his hand to stop her explanation. “We don’t have to speak of it.” Lord knows, it would be difficult explaining this morning’s interaction to Darleen if someone should have happened to drive by and seen him with Jonica. News in the district, both good and bad, spread like butter on a hot day.

  Jonica’s eyes dulled. She turned and began collecting pieces of firewood from the pile.

  Caleb groaned. He’d embarrassed her again. He loaded his arms with heavier pieces of oak, then willing himself not to speak, followed her to the house.

  Jonica shifted the wood in her arms to turn the knob and used her hip to nudge the door open. She dropped the wood into the crate. “Danki for the help.” She dusted bark bits off her hands.

  “I’ll bring in more.”

  “I think this is enough.”

  They both knew it wasn’t enough to last the day, but he didn’t argue the point. Once he finished planting the field, he would make sure to fill the crate before he went home.

  Jonica added a log to the fire. “Can I make you a mug of kaffi?”

  Hot coffee sounded good, but he needed to get to work. He didn’t want his first year of farming to be a failure. As it was, his crop should have been in last month. The rule of thumb with winter wheat was to have it in the ground by October first at the latest, and he was already past that marker. “Nay, danki. I better get out in the field.”

  Caleb stepped outside and focused on the work at hand. As long as he didn’t get sidetracked again, he should be finished planting in plenty of time to go home, change into clean clothes, and make it to Darleen’s birthday supper.