by Ruth Reid
“Can you make a hund? I’ve always wanted a hund.”
“Then it’s settled. A dog, or hund as you say, is what it’ll be.” Mr. Jordan turned and walked away, not giving Jonica time to object.
She didn’t want her son receiving gifts from strangers. The man should have asked her if it was okay. Then again, she was the one who had allowed Stephen to keep the wooden horse.
Stephen climbed into the wagon and held his arms up so Jonica could cover him with the blanket. The small wagon wasn’t designed to haul much weight and the rickety wheels wobbled as she dragged it along.
Not even a half mile from the house, her shoulder ached. The washboard gravel road proved tiring. Stephen seemed to enjoy the bumps.
By the time they reached the main road, Jonica had amended her list again, eliminating everything but basic necessities. Although the pavement proved a little easier, one of the back wheels began to give her problems. Several yards down the road, a tinging sound behind them caused her to turn quickly, just as the corner of the wagon hit the ground with a jolt. Searing pain tore through her shoulder as the handle ripped from her hand and hit the pavement.
“Ach, Stephen are you allrecht?” She held her sore arm to her body as she stooped to check on her son.
“Jah, I’m gut, but that was scary.” He struggled out of the tangled blanket and stood, holding his side. Jonica checked him for injuries the best she could without removing his coat but found none.
“Go stand in the ditch while I try to fix this.” She pushed him toward the safe area. “Don’t get your feet wet.” That was all she needed was for Stephen to catch cold.
Jonica moved back to the wagon and lifted the back end. Without tools, there was little she could do to fix the problem.
“Look up, Mamm. It’s snowing.” Stephen stuck out his tongue to catch the falling snowflakes.
A gust of wind hit her face with a flurry of snow that dissolved into freezing wetness. Going all the way into town was out of the question and Aenti Edna’s was more than a mile away.
“I’m freezing.” Stephen hugged his coat to his body as his chin shivered, his cheeks bright red against the gray pallor of his skin.
“Mamm.” His voice quivered.
She had no choice but to seek shelter.
* * *
“You haven’t said how supper went at the Yoder’s last nacht,” Caleb’s mother said as he worked on setting up her quilting frame in the sitting room.
Caleb suspected what Mamm really wanted to know was if he liked the food Darleen’s mother served, but he wanted to avoid talking about last night. His mother would prod him with questions if she found out Darleen had ended things. Replaying last night’s conversation over in his mind had given him an odd sense of relief. Darleen was one less person he had to prove himself to. He’d never measure up to her expectations and, surprisingly, he was all right with that truth.
“Caleb, is something wrong?”
“It was crowded. Most of Darleen’s bruders and schweschders were there with their families.” Caleb tightened the wing nut on the frame’s leg to hold the loom in place.
“Jah, the Yoders were blessed with a large family.” Her melancholy tone drifted into a forlorn sigh, expressing a haunting sadness that had shrouded her since Peter’s death. She forced a smile he’d seen before when she was trying to hide her emotions. “Did you give Darleen the wooden box you made?”
“How did you know about the box?”
“I do your laundry, sohn. Your sock drawer was jammed to where I had to pull everything out and reorganize it in order to close it properly.” She dusted the lamp table. “I assumed it was a birthday gift.”
“Jah, I gave it to her.”
“You did a wunderbaar job on the piece. I hope she appreciated it.”
His mother wasn’t particularly fond of Darleen, so where was she going with this conversation? Had she already heard Darleen didn’t want to court him anymore?
“She doesn’t strike me as someone who would be easily satisfied,” his mamm continued.
Not sure how to respond, he moved to the last leg and adjusted its tightness. “Okay, you’re all set up.” He stood, checked that the frame sat evenly on the floor, then collected his tools.
“Danki, Caleb. What would I do without you?”
“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” Caleb placed his tools in his tool bag. “Anything else?” Waking up to snow on the ground, Caleb stayed home to do odd jobs for his mother. Mamm must have enjoyed his company because it seemed like she was inventing things to keep him busy just to have him around the house longer.
“There’s a large wicker chest in the hall closet. Would you bring it here, please?”
“Sure.” Caleb located the container marked sewing in the back of the closet and lifted it with a grunt. Not that the basket was overly heavy. He’d been hunched over at an awkward angle causing the muscles between his ribs to spasm. The same spot where he’d been bruised last night from all James’s elbowing. He brought the container to his mother. “Is this it?”
“I think so.” Mamm opened the lid and peered inside. She removed a large piece of plain navy fabric, a roll of cotton batting, and finally a navy-and-white-checkered quilt top big enough to fit a bed. “I’ve been meaning to quilt this blanket for some time. Would you give me a hand setting it up on the frame, please?”
“Sure.” He had helped sandwich the material between the rollers on the frame before, so it wasn’t difficult as long as the material wasn’t wrinkled. Following his mother’s instruction, he guided the different layers between the rollers, then safety-pinned the center of the blanket, the area his mother couldn’t reach. He was placing another pin six inches from the first when his father walked through the door.
Daed’s full six-foot frame took up the sitting room entryway. Though Caleb’s own stature matched his father’s, the man still gave off a sense of dominance.
Crossing his arms, Daed scowled at Caleb. “You have nothing better to do with your time than sew with a woman?”
“I was helping Mamm. She has a hard time reaching the center of the quilt to pin it down.” The need to explain his actions churned in his gut. “Did you need help with something? I fed the livestock and the woodbox is full.”
His mother stood. “It’s been snowing all morning, you must be kalt, Abraham. I’ll put the kettle on the stove for kaffi.”
Caleb placed the pins he’d been holding on the lamp table next to his mother’s chair. “I have field work over at Edna’s I need to do.”
“That’s what I thought,” Daed said. “You have a lot invested in that seed.”
Jah, and they both knew it’d go to rot if he planted it now. He’d missed the season. Still, he needed to do something productive. Lingering around the house any longer would only irritate his father further.
Caleb grabbed his coat from the wall hook and slipped it on.
His mother’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “Stop picking on the bu, Abe. Please, for me.”
“The bu . . .” His father’s brows narrowed. “The bu is a man, Deborah, and he can’t even get a plot of seed in without failing. You’ve doted on him his whole life . . .”
Caleb quietly closed the door behind him as he stepped outside, cold air stinging his face. “Lord, please show me how to mend mei relationship with mei daed.”
Standing in the yard as the snow fell, he offered up to God once again the burden that refused to lift from his heart. “Jesus, please, forgive me for mei words that drove Peter to end his life.”
Chapter 11
Caleb heaved the oversize rock into the bed of the wagon, the springs groaning with the added weight. For the last hour, he’d dealt with his frustrations the only way he knew how—hard work. That process cleared two acres of Edna’s land that he would plant next spring. Unless she sold the property.
The high-pitched call of the whippoorwill came from the brush. Caleb clapped his hands together to brush off some
of the cold mud. He scanned the trees along the edge of the field. Whippoorwills migrated south for winter, and they were nocturnal birds. Strange to hear one call out this time of year. The poor fellow must have been left behind.
He heard the bird again. The accented whip-poor-will sounded more distinct. Movement caught his attention, and Caleb stepped toward the thick underbrush. Though most of the leaves had already turned and fallen off, there was enough foliage to make seeing past the first foot or two of woods difficult.
“Hello, Caleb.” Mr. Jordan emerged from the thick underbrush, his red hair shining in the late afternoon sun. “Working hard, I see.”
“Jah, I’m trying to.” Caleb bent down and hoisted up another rock in both hands. “What are you doing all the way out here?”
Mr. Jordan smiled. “Checking on you.” He looked over the newly cleared field. “You got a lot done today.”
“It’s too kalt to nett keep moving.” He walked the rock over to the wagon and tossed it in with the others.
The Englischer gazed toward the road. “Did you give up on the front field?”
“Had to. I missed the planting season this year.” Caleb stared across the field at the patches of snow mixed with the half-frozen muddy ground.
He’d hoped, even prayed, for the snow to melt, and that a hard freeze wouldn’t come for a few more weeks—just enough time to get his crop in. But this morning it began to snow and the temperature plummeted. Winter was coming, no doubt about that.
Mr. Jordan peered upward. “All things are possible for those who believe.”
“Jah.” Caleb picked up another stone and added it to the pile. On God’s command a mountain would crumble, but that didn’t mean He would command the snow to melt or the wind to change directions for Caleb’s sake. Caleb was nothing in the grand scheme of things, a human composed and created from dust, and one who eventually would return to dust.
“But do you really believe that?” Mr. Jordan turned his gaze to Caleb. “Do you believe you can still have a full harvest of wheat come spring?”
“Do I believe?” Did he?
“Yes, do you?”
“I admit, I’ve failed at many things. I tried to be productive as a farmer, but it just didn’t work. And I’ll be okay with losing the crop.” He’d had to endure losing something much greater—his brother, his father’s respect, his family. Losing the crop wouldn’t shatter him any more than he was already.
“You still didn’t answer my question, Caleb. Do. You. Believe?”
“That I’ll be able to finish planting and the crop won’t fail?” He shook his head. “I can’t change the weather or make the sun stand still. Do I believe God can do that? Jah, I believe. If it’s His will—God can do anything.” He grabbed another rock and heaved it over the side of the wagon. “Do I believe I deserve His mercy?” Caleb chuckled. “That’s another story.” A gust of icy wind stung his raw cheeks. He pulled his coat collar higher up his neck to block the winter squall from going down his back.
Mr. Jordan seemed unaffected by the weather. The man wasn’t even wearing a hat or gloves. “You have other things weighing on your mind, don’t you, son?”
Caleb wasn’t someone who shared personal things with strangers and especially not with Englischers, but when he looked intently at Mr. Jordan, a ray of something illuminated the man’s eyes with a mesmerizing amber glow. Indescribable warmth traveled down Caleb’s spine and rendered him speechless.
“God resists the proud, but He gives grace to the humble.” Mr. Jordan’s smooth baritone voice held a comforting tone. “Cast all your care upon Him, Caleb, for He cares for you.” The man placed his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “So, you see, child. The burden is not yours to carry. All you need to do is allow Him to bear it for you.”
Caleb wanted to respond, but the egg-size knot growing in his throat strangled his vocal cords. If only it were that easy. Give his cares away for someone else to carry?
“Do not fear, Caleb. Only believe.”
Prompted to lower his head and close his eyes, he silently spoke what was on his heart. Lord, forgive me for letting anxious thoughts rule me. I am casting mei cares upon You. I know You will take care of Mamm and Daed and heal their brokenness. Lord, I ask that You send Your engels to watch over Stephen. Give Jonica peace. She’s hurting too, having lost her parents. Please free me from my unbelief.
As if God was answering his prayers, lifting his burdens, Caleb was inundated with peace he couldn’t understand. He stood motionless. Though rendered speechless, he sensed a closeness—spiritual communion with his Savior that he’d never before experienced. Danki, Father. For Your mercy is steadfast and Your love endures forever.
At a repeating whippoorwill call, Caleb opened his eyes. The redheaded man was gone and there wasn’t a bird in sight.
He stood still for a moment, the cold seeping through his winter clothing. He pulled his coat tight around his throat. The heaviness that had almost overwhelmed him a few minutes ago had faded to almost nothing. Yet he didn’t feel abandoned.
“Thank You, God.”
Caleb tossed a few more rocks into the back of the wagon, then decided to call it a day. Before grabbing the reins to lead Anchor back to the barn, he rolled his head side to side in an attempt to ease his stiff shoulders, then fisted and unfisted his fingers to try and chase the coldness that had stiffened his hands.
The temperature had dropped even more. His breath froze as he exhaled. His big Clydesdale had no problem pulling the wagon to Edna’s barn. At the building he paused to unlatch the doors.
“Caleb.”
He turned as Edna rushed toward him without her coat. Alarmed by the elderly woman’s distressed expression, he dropped Anchor’s reins and met her halfway. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m worried about Jonica and Stephen. Have you seen them? They’re nett here.”
“I haven’t seen them all day. Where would they geh?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” She blew into her fisted hands.
Caleb tied the Clydesdale to the fence. “Let’s geh inside before you get chilled.”
“I didn’t think to grab mei cloak. I wanted to stop you before you left.”
Perhaps Edna was confused. She could have fallen asleep and woken up to what she thought was an empty house. He couldn’t imagine Jonica going anywhere with Stephen in this weather. Not on foot anyway. Reaching the front door, he stomped his boots on the mat so he didn’t track snow into the house.
“Jonica!” Caleb called the moment he entered the house. He searched the sitting room, then the kitchen. Empty. He went to the foot of the stairs. “Jonica? Stephen?”
“I told you. They’re gone.”
“She didn’t leave a note?” He trailed Edna into the kitchen. “What’s that?” He pointed to a pad of paper on the table.
Edna picked up the tablet and turned it toward him. “It was the list of supplies we needed.”
“The paper’s blank. They must have gone into town.”
“Jah.” Edna nodded. “To get eggs. I remember nau.”
“I’ll find them.” Were eggs so important that she would risk Stephen or her getting sick? The temperature had dropped steadily over the last couple of hours and the snow didn’t look to be letting up anytime soon. Were they dressed warm enough for this weather? He had multiple layers of clothing on plus his winter coat, hat, and gloves, and his face still turned numb in no time.
Leaving the house, Caleb spotted Mr. Jordan hitching Nutmeg to the buggy. Where’d he come from? Caleb sprinted across the yard. Nutmeg was high tempered and didn’t respond well when Englischers tried to pet her. For that reason Caleb made a practice to keep people away from her as much as possible.
“She’s nett a very friendly mare.” Caleb came to a stop next to his horse, then raised an eyebrow. The mare stood perfectly still as the stranger buckled her girth.
Mr. Jordan looked over the back of the animal. “Edna said you were going into town.”
He pulled a leather strap into place. “The weather is getting worse. You should get a move on. It could be dangerous out there. And don’t worry about your plow horse. I’ll take good care of him.”
“Danki.” Caleb checked the equipment to make sure it’d been properly attached. Not many Englischers knew how to harness a horse. He tugged on the straps and found them secure. “I’d rather you leave Anchor where he is. He’s a gentle giant, but I wouldn’t want him to slip on ice and bring you down with him.” Caleb hated leaving Anchor tied to the fence, but the animal had his thick winter coat and should be okay.
As he climbed into the buggy something wedged between the passenger door and floorboard caught his attention. He picked up the pamphlet about blood disorders that the nurse had given Jonica. “That’s strange. Where did this kumm from?” He hadn’t noticed it earlier. Caleb tucked the pamphlet into a pocket. Jonica would need this.
A gust of frigid wind rocked the enclosed buggy. He glanced again at Anchor tied to the fence post. “I’ll add an extra serving of oats to your feed, bu.” But first, he needed to be sure Jonica and Stephen were safe.
* * *
Whiteout conditions decreased Jonica’s visibility to almost nothing. Her arms ached. After she abandoned the broken wagon on the side of the road, she’d carried Stephen. A half mile or so since she first started carrying her son, with the wind at her face, she stopped to readjust Stephen to her other hip.
Her hands and feet tingled from the cold. The roar of a semitruck came behind her. She turned and tried to shield Stephen from the onslaught of slush and ice she knew was coming. The truck sped past them, creating a gust of wind that nearly shook her off her feet and soaked one side of her dress and leggings.
Stephen tightened his grip around her neck and spoke through chattering teeth. “Ich bang. What if a car hits us?”
“We’re going to be okay. We’re almost there.” It was a lie, but God would have to forgive her this one time. She needed to keep her son calm.
Even though traffic wasn’t heavy, Jonica walked as close to the ditch as possible while avoiding any standing water. At any time a car could slip on a patch of black ice and . . . She tucked Stephen’s head under the crook of her neck, holding him tight.
