by Ruth Reid
“Okay.” Stephen lay back down.
“Get some sleep.” Caleb slipped out of the room. He’d never liked ice fishing, but he wished the pond would hurry up and freeze over so he could keep the promise he made Stephen. Caleb went down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Standing at the sink with her hands submerged in sudsy water, Jonica glanced over her shoulder. “Did Stephen try to talk you out of the nap?”
“Nay, he was gut.” He leaned one shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms. “But he’s expecting me to take him fishing soon.”
Jonica frowned. “I hope you’re nett still encouraging him.”
He smiled sheepishly.
“Caleb, I don’t think the fish bite in this weather.” She scrubbed a plate, then lowered it into the rinse water.
“True. We won’t catch anything.”
“Jah, you will. You’ll both catch a kalt.”
“We’ll dress warm.” Caleb wished he hadn’t made the promise, but he had, and Stephen wouldn’t let him forget it. “I gave him mei word, Jonica. We wouldn’t have to stay long. Enough for him to get a taste of fishing.”
She shook her head. “He could fall in the river.”
Caleb glanced at Edna as she dried the dishes, a large smile stretched across her face. “What do you think, Edna? Am I trustworthy enough to watch over Stephen?”
“You should take Jonica too. That way if . . .” Edna placed her hand against her chest and blew out a few quick breaths.
“Aenti, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
Jonica placed her hand on the small of her aunt’s back. “You need to sit and rest.”
Edna handed Caleb the dish towel. “I hate to leave you all the work, but mei legs are feeling wobbly.” She steadied herself with the countertop. “Help Jonica reddy-up the kitchen for me.”
Noticing tiny beads of sweat along Edna’s brow, Caleb reached for her elbow. “First, let us help you to a chair.”
Jonica helped Caleb lead Edna to the table, then pulled out a chair.
Aenti waved off the offer to sit. “I’d rather rest in the other room where it’s more comfortable.” She ambled toward the sitting room with Caleb on one side of her and Jonica on the other. They guided her into her favorite chair, settled her in, and covered her with a light-blue afghan.
Jonica took a half step closer to Caleb, and he resisted the urge to put his arm around her as she twisted her hands in front of her. “Can I get you anything? A glass of wasser? Your knitting needles and yarn?”
“I’m fine for the moment.” Edna shooed them away. “I just need a few minutes to rest.”
Jonica didn’t move.
Caleb touched Jonica’s elbow, then stepped back a couple steps but stayed in the room. Just the other day Edna was climbing the kitchen chair to dust cobwebs; today she appeared frail.
Edna opened her eyes. “Don’t stand there staring at me. I’m nett going to die.” When they didn’t leave immediately, she started to push herself up. “If you two aren’t going to finish the dishes, then I will.”
Caleb held up his hand. “Please, stay put. Jonica and I will leave you alone and finish reddying-up the kitchen.”
Jonica glanced at Caleb, fear etched in her features. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Edna’s head dropped back. “I said so, didn’t I? Nau, shoo.” She waved her hand toward them.
“Holler if you need something,” Jonica added.
Caleb motioned with a nod toward the doorway, and he and Jonica left the room. He picked up the dish towel and went to the sink.
“You don’t have to stay, Caleb. I can handle this by myself.”
“I want to help.” He picked up a plate and dried it with the cloth.
Jonica moved to the sink and began to wash and rinse the remaining dishes. “Earlier, you asked if I was in right standing with God.” She kept her head down as she spoke. “The truth of the matter is, I—I don’t know that I am.”
Caleb stopped washing dishes and turned toward her. “Why is that?”
She wiped her cheek against her shoulder, and her elbow brushed his arm. “I don’t know. Lots of little reasons and some big ones too. My life has not been easy, and I know that’s due to my own poor choices, but still, I’m tired.” She sniffled. “I’m tired of being alone, tired of nett knowing my future, tired of fighting to keep Stephen safe. And I’m not even twenty-five yet. Worst of all, there’s a huge part of me that is still angry about the accident that took mei parents from me—from Stephen. I’m nett ready to be alone. It’s just nett right—nett fair.”
“I know the feeling of life nett being fair.” Too well. “But, Jonica, God understands your pain. He created our emotions, so He understands when we’re angry or tired or lonely. But He loves us and nett only expects us to turn our sorrow over to Him, but desires that we give Him our burdens.”
She nodded. A single tear trailed down her cheek as she washed a plate. “It’s so hard.”
“I know. It’s difficult. I’ve had mei own issues giving my problems over to God.” He let a few moments of silence linger between them. “Is that why you didn’t geh to service today?”
Her shoulders lifted as she drew in a breath, then slumped again with her exhale. “I remember how easily rumors spread around here. I don’t want to make trouble for anyone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“During the snowstorm, I stopped at Yoder’s Market. Darleen and Hazel were talking about . . .” Jonica shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m sorry for whatever they said. If Darleen lashed out at you, it’s most likely because she’s upset with me. As for Hazel, she’s been known to exaggerate, making up something out of nothing.”
“She didn’t make any of it up. It was all true. They were talking about me having a boppli out of wedlock. I expected people to gossip, but what upset me was their total disregard for Stephen being within earshot.”
No wonder she didn’t want to attend service today. “Do you think Stephen understood what they were talking about?”
“I hope nett.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m nett willing to chance another run-in, and if that means nett attending service, then so be it.”
He went to reach for her elbow, but she took a step back the moment he touched her.
“Faith told me that you and Darleen are courting.” Jonica squeezed out the excess water from the dishrag, then faced him. “If you two are courting, what are you doing here—with me? This is exactly how rumors get started.”
“I’m sorry, Jonica. This is all mei fault.” Caleb groaned under his breath. He never meant for his breakup with Darleen to cause Jonica pain. “Darleen isn’t a bad person, but she’s spoiled and right nau she’s angry because she didn’t get her way.”
“I’m nett following.”
“We had been courting a little over a year. She decided she wanted to get married—nau. Mainly because her friends are all married and she doesn’t want to feel left out.”
Jonica’s mouth dropped open, and her stare took on a fierce look.
Caleb held up his hands. “Oh, we’re nett getting married. We’re no longer courting.” Saying the words out loud was almost refreshing, freeing. Hearing the way Hazel and Darleen gossiped about a child in front of him and his mother confirmed what he’d already known. The inner conflict he’d had about Darleen was right—he could never marry someone like her—even if Jonica hadn’t come to town.
Jonica grimaced. “It’s nett because you were late to her birthday party, is it?”
He shook his head. “That had nothing to do with it. It was me. Things just fell apart after mei brother’s death, and—”
She gasped. “What did you say?”
Caleb stopped drying the dish. “I changed after mei brother’s death.”
Jonica turned pale and stumbled backward until she hit the table.
“Are you allrecht?” Caleb rushed to her side and pul
led a chair out so she could sit down before she fell down, but she grasped the edge of the table instead.
Her gaze flickered. “Peter’s . . . dead?”
Chapter 18
“He . . . died?” Stunned, Jonica’s chest tightened until she could hardly pull in a breath.
Caleb lowered his head a moment. When he looked up, murkiness filled his gaze. “A few months ago.”
Memories of Peter’s jovial smile, his hearty laughter, his careless nature, flashed before her. He’d been worldly and restless and adventurous—everything she thought she’d wanted on her rumspringa . . .
And he was gone.
Forever.
Caleb motioned to the chair. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit?”
She blinked tears off her lashes. “What happened?”
Caleb flinched. He touched his throat as his Adam’s apple moved down his neck. Obviously struggling to speak.
She held up her hand to stop him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Suicide,” he blurted.
She stared blankly.
He half shrugged. “Peter, ah . . . he didn’t leave a note.”
Jonica’s lungs tightened. She hadn’t realized she’d been swaying until Caleb’s hands steadied her shoulders. Neither of them spoke for a long moment as unrestrained tears streamed down her face. She cupped her face in her hands as she cried for Peter, for Caleb, for their parents, and for Stephen. Oh, Stephen. The smidgen of hope she had held on to over the past five years, that one day Peter would want to know his son, vaporized like a drop of water on a hot cast-iron stove.
Peter had lofty dreams that didn’t include remaining Amish, but what would have driven him to take his own life?
Lord, I don’t understand.
A high-pitched ringing filled Jonica’s ears while at the same time her peripheral vision darkened as if she were looking through a narrowing tunnel. Her knees buckled. About to go down, she reached for the countertop, but Caleb’s strong, comforting, consoling arms encircled her.
He pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest. And though the voice inside her head was warning her to move away—that it wasn’t right, not her place—she didn’t object. She needed him, wanted him to comfort her. Instead of pushing away, she leaned closer, wrapped her arms around his waist, and held him tighter.
After a moment, Jonica’s light-headedness eased. The buzzing din replaced with the rhythmic lub-dub timbre of Caleb’s beating heart, which lulled her deeper into his arms.
He rubbed her back in circular motions. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have been mindful of your situation.”
Her body stiffened. Had he known all along that Stephen was Peter’s son? Fully aware of their closeness, of Caleb’s warm breaths on the back of her neck, she moved out of his embrace. Jonica’s heart raced as she adjusted her kapp.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.” It wasn’t Caleb’s fault. She should have heeded the warning and kept her distance. Truth was, he hadn’t made her feel uncomfortable at all, but rather the opposite. Snug in his arms, she found refuge. A feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time—if ever.
Caleb’s brows drew together as his analyzing gaze explored what felt like every inch of her. “I thought you might pass out there for a minute.”
She shifted her focus to a small wrinkle on her apron. “It was the first I had heard about your bruder. Peter was so young.” She hand-pressed a small wrinkle on her apron, debating if this was a good time to tell Caleb that his brother was Stephen’s father.
“Mei mother kept his . . . passing out of The Budget. Mamm is the one who sends in the district updates to the paper every week, and she—” He grimaced. “We all took his death very hard.”
“What did you mean when you said you should have been mindful of mei situation?” She held her breath.
“Your parents’ recent deaths. I know how hard it can be to hear about another person’s death when you’re still struggling with the same form of grief. At least that’s the way it is for me. I haven’t been able to talk about his death. It triggers too much . . . unresolved—”
“Pain,” she said.
Caleb nodded. “None of us have been the same.” His usually strong voice came out weak and almost frightened.
“It had to have been a shock for sure, especially for your mamm.” Losing her parents in the accident had been devastating, but at least she was comforted knowing that they both had lived for the Lord up until their last breath. If Peter had jumped the fence, left his Amish upbringing . . . ?
Lumped emotion pressed against Jonica’s throat making it difficult to talk. She swallowed hard, relieving some of the pressure. She couldn’t help but ask the question. “Peter jumped the fence, didn’t he?” Caleb’s eyes flickered closed, and she reached for his arm. “You don’t have to answer. Trust me when I say, the last thing I want to do is overrun you with questions that cause more pain.”
She didn’t need Caleb to say what she already knew—Peter didn’t want to stay Amish. He never hid that fact. Nothing would have changed his mind. She lowered her head, recalling Peter’s words when she’d told him about the pregnancy. “I can’t take care of a fraa and kind. I’m nett joining the church. I’m leaving the fold—jumping the fence. Is that clear?”
“Crystal clear,” she muttered, not realizing her thoughts were audible until Caleb leaned down to glimpse her staring at her wool socks.
“What’s crystal clear?”
Jonica swallowed hard. “Peter,” she said, her throat hoarse. “He’d decided to stay on rumspringa . . . indefinitely.”
“He returned, eventually.”
The air left her lungs. “He did?”
Caleb nodded. “As soon as he came back, he wanted to be baptized and join the church.”
Her stomach clenched. “Then why did he—?” Nett tell her? Had Peter only led her to believe he wasn’t planning to stay Amish in order to avoid marrying her? He’d seemed so sure of himself—of his Englisch plans.
“I don’t want to talk any more about Peter,” Caleb snapped, his tone guttural, a strong indication that a raw nerve had been struck. He tilted his head upward, but it didn’t stop tears from rolling down his cheeks and landing on his shoulders.
Before Jonica could process the meaning behind Caleb’s words or explore the depth of pain unmasked in his pitch, Stephen darted into the kitchen filled with renewed energy after his nap.
* * *
Caleb turned toward the sink as Stephen captured Jonica’s attention. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, attempting to relieve the sting. Usually, he guarded his emotions better. Another reason not to talk about Peter. If she knew the truth . . .
Jonica nudged his arm with a dish towel as he turned off the water. He couldn’t decipher if it was concern, sadness, or pity in her eyes, but he couldn’t hold her gaze any longer. “Danki.” He buried his face in the towel.
“Can I, please?” Stephen pleaded.
Jonica redirected her attention. “Can you what, sweetie?”
“Have a kichlin. I slept gut.”
“Would you like a kichlin too, Caleb?” Jonica opened the jar and removed a cookie that she handed to Stephen.
“Nay, danki.” His eyes still stung. He placed the towel on the counter. “I’m going to check on Edna.” He needed a reason to leave the room before his emotions bubbled to the surface once more. Leaning around the wall of the sitting room, he spotted Edna sitting in the rocking chair knitting. He stepped away from the entrance, not ready to face anyone.
Jonica came out of the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”
“Edna’s fine. She’s knitting.”
“With you?”
He didn’t deserve her concern.
She cleared her throat. “If it’s okay . . . I’d like to talk more about Peter.”
“Jonica.” He cocked his head. “I can’t talk abou
t how he died—why he died—or him. I just can’t.” What would she think if she knew he’d been the one who’d egged his brother on—he didn’t physically push him, but his words were what pushed Peter to his death. He couldn’t bear her knowing that mean-spirited part of him. Not now, not ever.
“I didn’t mean to make you sad. I know how much you must miss your bruder.”
Caleb forced a smile. Lord, she deserves to know everything. He’d squelched Darleen’s curiosity surrounding Peter’s death by distancing himself, but Jonica was different. He wanted to share everything with her—he just couldn’t. Still, he couldn’t have her thinking she’d inflicted this pain. “Your questions were the same as everyone else’s in the district.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have—”
He held up his hand signaling her to stop. “It was gut to talk about it,” he lied.
Her lip-pressed smile suggested she didn’t believe him.
The silence between them prompted Caleb to continue. “I’ll admit it’s been rough,” he said, finding courage to share. “For everyone. Mei daed has more or less closed himself off from mei mamm and me, and Mamm has become clingy.” He shrugged. “I guess she’s afraid she’s going to lose me too.”
“As a mamm I understand.” Jonica placed her hand on her heart. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to Stephen.”
“Sometimes she cries when she thinks no one is around. It rips me apart to hear it.” Caleb sighed. “I don’t know why I’m rambling so much.” He did know why. Jonica was a gut listener. He’d shown more weakness in the last few minutes in front of her than he had to Darleen during the entire time they had courted.
“You’re nett rambling. It’s nice to see this side of you.”
“And nett the cantankerous man who told you to get off his wheat.”
She chuckled. “Or the person who referred to me as a package to be picked up.” Her expression sobered again. “I know what you’re going through. And I won’t press you to talk about Peter, unless you—”
