The Farmer's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  Onkel Hezekiah came outside, pushing his magnifying glasses to the top of his head. “I heard a siren.” He looked at Martha’s mother.

  “Fire at the Yoders’,” Mamm said, still breathing hard.

  He yanked off the glasses and handed them to Martha. “Lock up the shop,” he said, then took off toward the barn to hitch up his buggy.

  Martha barely nodded, gripping the glasses in her hands. Seth. Was he home? Was he injured . . . or worse? Her hands started to shake. “I’m going to Seth’s.” She spun around to put her uncle’s glasses away and lock up the shop, but her mother stopped her.

  “Nee, you’re not.” Mamm went to her.

  “They need help.”

  “They’ll need our help after they put out the fire.” Mamm looked worried. “We’ll let the men handle the blaze.”

  “But what if Seth’s hurt?” Martha blinked back sudden tears. “What if he’s burned or . . .”

  Mamm put her arm around her and led her back inside the shop. She took Martha’s hand. “We’ll pray that none of the Yoders are injured.”

  She closed her eyes and listened to her mother praying for the family, the animals, the farm, and the men and firefighters putting out the blaze. But when Martha opened her eyes, she didn’t feel a sense of calm. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

  “God’s in control,” Mamm said gently. “Believe that.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to have her mother’s depth of faith. But she couldn’t stop imagining something horrible happening to Seth. Please, Lord, don’t let anything happen to him.

  * * *

  The firefighters and several men from the community had helped put out the fire, and both Seth’s body and mind were numb as he stood looking at the cloud of smoke that still hung in the air. No one had been hurt, except Aden. He’d burned his hand when he arrived and tried to help Seth and Judah save their animals. He was with the firefighters by the fire engine now as one of them taped it up. The burn wasn’t serious, Aden had insisted. That didn’t make Seth feel any better.

  He turned and looked at Judah, huddled on the back-porch steps. The house had been almost untouched, the fire stopping at the patio’s edge after scorching the rest of the yard. But they had lost the barn. They lost livestock. They lost the crops. They had lost almost everything on the farm.

  Seth went to Judah and sat down. His brother didn’t look at him. He stared straight ahead, his face covered with soot. They had managed to save some of their livestock, which were now finding refuge at Jalon’s, where the rest of the men in the community had gone to help with the relocating process. He put his hand on Judah’s shoulder. Judah shrugged it off.

  “Don’t,” his youngest brother said. “Don’t try to make me feel better.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “It was mei fault.” Judah looked at him, his eyes red-rimmed. “You’ve been helping Daed a lot more lately, and I came back this afternoon because I started thinking I should help him too. That pile of splintered pallets has been rotting by the barn for months. It’s not as hot today, so I thought I could burn them.” He gulped. “I forgot all about the burn ban.”

  Seth nodded but didn’t say anything. What could he say? Judah thought he was to blame, but Seth blamed himself more. His father had put him in charge. Instead of keeping an eye on the farm, he’d been preoccupied with his problems. He’d been irresponsible and selfish. If he had been here, he would have stopped Judah, told him it was too windy and too dry to set the pile on fire. Judah was fourteen, and he lacked Seth’s experience and knowledge.

  Judah hung his head. “How am I gonna tell Daed?”

  “We’ll both tell him.”

  Judah’s head jerked up. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Ya, I did.

  One of the firefighters came over to them. He’d taken off his helmet but was still wearing his full gear. Sweat poured down his face. “You two okay?”

  They both nodded, and they were both lying. “We’re fine,” Seth said, trying to act like he had everything in control, that losing the farm in a span of an hour hadn’t broken him into pieces inside.

  “Your friend with the burned hand said he was going to go help with the animals that survived,” the man said. His expression grew more somber. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save more of them.”

  “We appreciate everything you did.” Seth’s voice was flat, and Judah’s head was down again. He heard his brother sniff, and his heart tore in two.

  “If there’s anything we can do to help . . .” The firefighter shifted on his feet. “A couple of us have a day off tomorrow. We can help with the cleanup.”

  “Thanks, but we’ll take care of it.”

  “All right. Just know the offer stands.” He went back to the fire engine and spoke with the rest of the firefighters. They all looked at Seth and Judah, then packed up their gear and prepared to leave.

  Just as the fire truck pulled away, a familiar blue sedan turned into the driveway. The car had barely come to a complete stop when Daed scrambled out of it and rushed toward the house. “What happened? Are you two okay? Where’s Ira?”

  Seth stood. “We’re fine. Ira isn’t here, and he wasn’t around when the fire happened.”

  His stoic father’s entire body started to shake as their mother appeared beside him. “Tell me what happened,” he said, his voice trembling.

  Judah started to speak, but Seth interrupted him. “It’s both our faults, Daed. Not just Judah’s.” He explained about the fire, about the livestock, about the farm.

  When Seth finished, his father sank to his knees. “It’s all . . . gone?”

  “Almost.”

  “The haus is all right.” His mother put her hand on Daed’s shoulder. “Our kinner are safe.”

  His father nodded but remained on his knees. Judah started to cry, and Seth was close to it.

  “Come inside,” Mamm said, putting her arm around Judah. Unlike her sons and husband, she was calm. “You too, Seth.”

  Although his mother’s demeanor was serene, Seth caught the flash of pain in her eyes. She was holding it together for the rest of them. “I’m staying here,” he said, and his mother and Judah went inside.

  He went to his father and knelt in front of him. “I’m so sorry,” he said, the tears flowing now. “I . . . I failed you.”

  His father looked at him, a blank expression in his eyes. “God’s will,” he whispered.

  “How can this be God’s will?” Seth almost shouted the question. “This was a human mistake. Mei mistake.” He hung his head. “Mei fault,” he said, sobbing.

  His daed stood, then helped Seth to his feet. “Something gut will come of this,” Daed said in an unsteady voice. “God will see to it. Now, mind yer mudder and geh inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Seth rubbed the tears from his face with the back of his sooty hand and went inside. He didn’t want his brother or mother to see he had lost control, and he was grateful they weren’t in the kitchen. He went upstairs to wash and change his clothes, but the bathroom door was closed. As he passed by, he heard his brother sobbing from inside. His chest tightened.

  He went to his bedroom and stood in the middle of it, unable to move. He wanted to believe his father. He wanted to have his faith and confidence. But all he could think about was his failure. The farm was everything to his daed, and it had started to be important to him too. Their loss was worse than anything they had experienced in the past, even during the hardest of times. It would take a long time to come back from this. They’d had everything, and in a flash, it had all turned to ashes.

  * * *

  Nina sat in the front seat of the taxi while Ira sat in the back. He had asked her earlier in the week to go fishing with him at the Grand River this afternoon, and she had agreed. She hadn’t told her grandmother where she was going today, other than fishing. Surprisingly, Grossmammi hadn’t asked. She’d been less controlling since the supper last month with Seth and Martha.
Nina hadn’t seen much of Martha other than at church, but between working on the house and the inn and fishing with Ira, she’d had little time to do anything else.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Ira, who gave her a smile. He was becoming a good friend, and his companionship, along with their fishing trips, had eased her homesickness until she barely felt it. Her grandmother had kept in touch with two of her friends back in Wisconsin, but they didn’t seem to have much news to share, and Nina had noticed that no one asked about her in the correspondence Grossmammi received.

  It was as if the cord between her and her old community had been severed, and she was surprised that she wasn’t all that upset about it. If anyone had told her almost two months ago that she would be content in Birch Creek, she wouldn’t have believed them. But that’s exactly what had happened, and she was grateful. She slept well at night now, and the longing in her heart had faded. Like the rest of her family, she was starting to believe Birch Creek was home.

  “I’m sorry the fish weren’t biting,” Ira said, leaning forward in the backseat.

  “That’s not your fault.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “I had a great time anyway.”

  He grinned, and she smiled back. He had told her about Martha, and that he was taking a break from romantic relationships. She was falling into a familiar habit with Ira—platonic friendship. Which was fine with her. Even Grossmammi hadn’t dropped any hints or nagged her about being more attractive to the opposite sex. Her grandmother had changed, for the better.

  Ira had told the driver to drop off Nina first. The taxi pulled into her driveway, but before she could fully get out of the car, Grossmammi burst out of the inn and hurried toward them, faster than Nina had seen her move since she and Levi were little kids. “Nina, is Ira with you?”

  Ira rolled down the window as Nina got out of the car. “Hi, Delilah.”

  Her grandmother’s face paled. Nina put her hand on her shoulder. “Grossmammi, what’s wrong?”

  “There’s a fire at yer farm, Ira.” Her voice broke.

  “What?”

  “Loren and Levi are there to help put it out. You need to get over there right away.”

  Ira yelled out his address to the taxi driver as he rolled up the window. Nina put the fishing pole and tackle in her grandmother’s hands. “I’m going with him.”

  “You will not.” Grossmammi held her arm. “I won’t have you put in a dangerous situation. We don’t know how much damage that fire has done.”

  “I don’t care.” She stared her down. She wasn’t going to be intimidated this time. “He’s mei friend, and I’m going whether you like it or not.”

  Grossmammi let go of Nina’s arm. “All right. But don’t do anything foolish.”

  Nina scrambled into the car and turned around to check on Ira. His face had turned snow white. “Small fire,” he whispered. “Must be a small fire.”

  The taxi driver had to have broken the speed limit with how fast he drove to the Yoders’. There wasn’t a fire truck there, which Nina took as a sign that the fire was out. Yet as soon as she got out of the car, she smelled the smoke, and she saw gray, wispy tendrils of it rising from the pile of black wood and ash that used to be the barn. Waves of smoke blew across the blackened pasture behind it. Her stomach dropped.

  “Nee,” Ira said, dashing past her toward the house.

  The front door opened, and Seth came outside. He looked freshly showered, but his expression was tortured as he went to Ira.

  “Mamm and Daed? Judah?” Ira asked, panic on his face.

  “We’re all fine.”

  “Is everything . . . ?”

  “Ya. All but the haus. Almost everything else is gone.”

  Ira froze. His expression became emotionless, the opposite of how he’d been behaving before they arrived. That worried Nina. She went over to him and lifted her hand to his shoulder. “Ira?” When he turned to her, she reached for his hand, not thinking about how it would look to Seth or whether Ira even wanted her there. “It’s okay,” she said softly, moving closer to him. “Everything will be okay.”

  “You should geh home,” Seth said quietly. “Yer bruder and daed should be there soon. They helped get the few animals we saved over to the Chupps’.”

  Ira squeezed her hand, but his expression didn’t change. She lifted her chin. “I’m not leaving,” she said. “Not unless Ira wants me to.”

  “Do you want her to stay?” Seth said.

  Ira looked at her and nodded. “Ya. I do.”

  “Okay. But please talk to me before you ask Judah or Mamm and Daed any questions. Judah . . .” But then Seth turned around without finishing and went back into the house.

  Ira let go of Nina’s hand and walked over to where the barn had stood. He crouched and stared at the ashes, the residual smoke blowing in the breeze.

  She crouched beside him, a lump in her throat. “I’m so sorry, Ira. What can I do to help?”

  He turned to her, his expression bewildered. “I don’t know what happened, but worse, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” He stared at the ashes again. “It’s not just the fire. Mei daed . . .” He swallowed. “There’s something wrong with his eyesight.”

  Nina sucked in a breath. “There is?”

  He nodded. “I don’t think I’m supposed to know. I overheard him and Mamm talking about his appointment in Cleveland this morning. I have nee idea if Seth and Judah know . . . Although now that I think about it, Seth must know. That explains why he and Daed have been working so closely together recently.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m sure Daed has his reasons for not telling me, and I don’t care that he didn’t. But if his eyes are bad enough that he has to see a specialist . . . and now this . . .”

  “Ira.” Nina took his hand in hers. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the people in Birch Creek is that they take care of each other. You and yer familye won’t geh through this alone. And I’ll help you any way I can. I know mei familye will too.”

  He looked at her, his eyes glassy. “Danki for being here, Nina.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  * * *

  The next day the community of Birch Creek shut down for the day as everyone gathered at Seth’s house to help clean up and assess the damage. Women brought food and set up tables for lunch while the men went through charred wood, looking for anything salvageable from the barn. Asa Bontrager, who was an accountant and in charge of the community fund, had a private discussion with Seth’s father inside the house. Everyone else stayed outside, continuing to work and clean up. Zeb and Zeke, along with Owen, Jalon, and Adam, were at Jalon and Adam’s farm, building temporary shelter for the animals. “We’ll keep them as long as you need,” Jalon had said. “They’ll be well taken care of.”

  Deep down Seth was grateful for everyone’s help. This was what their community did in times of crisis—it came together. That wasn’t the case before his father had become bishop, but Daed had unified a fractured community with his strong, yet quiet leadership.

  Judah was with Malachi and a few of his friends, who were doing their best to cheer him up while they picked up discarded charred wood and put it in a pile. Unlike yesterday, the air was still, without a trace of breeze. Daed and Mamm had forgiven both him and Seth, but they couldn’t hide the disappointment and sorrow in their eyes. Seth was exhausted after another night of not sleeping, but he threw himself into cleaning up the cornfield the best he could before it would be plowed over, probably on Monday. Despite the challenge of such a dry summer, the ears would have been ready for harvest in a little over two weeks, but only scorched and shortened stalks were left. He cut them out of the ground and tossed them into a wheelbarrow, then rolled it over to the growing pile on the other end of the field.

  He was on his third wheelbarrow trip when he saw Martha coming toward him. Despite everything, his heart did a little flip at seeing her. The feeling subdued when she neared. She was the last person he wanted to see
. . . and yet she was still the only person he wanted to see.

  “Seth,” she said, stopping a few feet away from him.

  He used his hatchet to cut a stalk, refusing to look at her. The sun beat down on him, and he was flush with heat and sweat. The day was blistering hot again, adding insult to injury.

  “I brought you something to drink.”

  “I’m not thirsty.” He hacked at another plant, then tossed it into the wheelbarrow.

  “Maybe not, but you’re going to dehydrate out here if you don’t drink something.” She put her hand lightly, hesitantly, on his shoulder.

  He stilled. How was he supposed to refuse her when she touched him like that? Although the gesture could have meant anything, and probably was meant only to get his attention, it meant so much more to him than that. He tossed down the hatchet and took the cold bottle of water from her. After he drained it, she handed him another. She had come prepared.

  “Be careful,” she said. “You don’t want to get sick.”

  Her nurturing made him feel good. But he didn’t deserve to feel good. He stopped drinking and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He screwed the lid back down, dropped the bottle, picked up the hatchet, and started cutting again.

  After a few moments Martha asked in a quiet voice, “Are you okay?”

  He stopped, holding the hatchet high. Was she seriously asking him that question after everything that had happened? After he’d left the farm unattended while his father was away? “Nee,” he said, angry, not looking at her. “I’m not okay. I don’t think I ever will be. This is mei fault.”

  “Yer fault? You blame yerself? You can’t do that, Seth—”

  “Ya, I can.” He started hacking again, hoping she’d get the hint that he wasn’t in the mood to talk to her or anyone else.

  She didn’t move, and she waited until he’d tossed the stalk in the wheelbarrow before she said, “I brought back yer key.”

  He looked at the key in her outstretched hand, the sun glinting off the metal and making it shine. “Keep it,” he said, moving to the next stalk.