by Kelly Long
This promise had to do with the tremendous guilt Jonathan had over Amos losing his role model. Jonathan’s dad had been everything that Amos aspired to be. And Jonathan, too. Jonathan would never forget the moment he’d been forced to explain to the young child that his favorite person in the world had passed away.
The devastated expression on Amos’s face still broke Jonathan’s heart. To his dismay, salty dampness stung his pupils. He blinked to rid himself of the uncomfortable sensation. But to his chagrin, a lone tear slid down his cheek. With a quick, frustrated motion, he wiped it away and regarded Amos to make sure he hadn’t seen.
Jonathan never forgot that his role in life was to compensate for the huge loss of their larger-than-life father. It was nothing less than his dad would have expected, and it was the Lord’s purpose for Jonathan.
Jonathan knew it with every God-given breath he took. But was he living up to those high expectations? Lifting an undecided brow, he drew in an uncertain breath.
Trying not to show too much emotion, Jonathan wrapped a gentle, reassuring arm around Amos’s fragile, narrow shoulders. “Amos, I know I’m not Dad. But I’m here for you. And you’ve got to tell me what’s naggin’ you so I can help.”
Amos crossed one leg over another and lowered his gaze to his shoes. Jonathan was quick to note moisture glistening on the boy’s long, thick lashes.
Finally Amos lifted his chin and darted a sideways glance at Jonathan. “I miss Emmie.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I wish she lived with us.”
* * *
The following afternoon, Emma left the Troyer home early to help Mamma make extra batches of cheese for the holiday. She chose to walk home, since the temperature had warmed several degrees.
A few minutes after her departure, though, she stopped and pushed out a sigh. She’d left her small hand mixer in the kitchen. She needed it this evening to make a dish for a family in town with a newborn. Without hesitation, quick steps took her back to the Troyer home, where she entered, as usual, through the back porch.
The moment she turned the brass knob on the door to the kitchen, she glimpsed Amos on Jonathan’s lap. The expressions on their faces told her they were having a serious conversation.
Her hand froze on the knob. The last thing Emma wanted to do was to interrupt. Whatever Jonathan wanted to tell Amos must be important.
Pulling in an uncertain sigh, Emma definitely didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but there was nowhere to go. She tried to close her ears. She didn’t want to be guilty of listening in on a private discussion. At the same time, she couldn’t go home without her hand mixer. But what could she do?
She considered her options. There were two choices. To go in and interrupt something important or to hang tight. She decided on the latter. Besides, how long could the talk last?
Jonathan’s deep, low voice was calm and steady. “We’ve scheduled your appointment for after Christmas. The doctor wants us to follow his complete instructions. You’re so diligent, Amos, and this is important.”
“Don’t worry, Johnnie. I’ll do everything right so the operation will work.”
There was a lengthy pause. Emma pressed her lips together thoughtfully as she listened to Jonathan’s convincing tone. “It will—I have no doubt. But following the doc’s instructions will give you the best results. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, little brother.”
“I’ve been asking in my prayers for Emmie to come with us. Can she come, Johnnie? Please?”
Emma grinned at how the last word was emphasized and drawn out for best effect. Amos was nearly a perfect child. Obedient. Polite. Studious. Thoughtful. But because of his special condition, he was used to having his way.
And despite Jonathan’s gruff attitude, Emma had taken note that when it came to his little brother, Jonathan sweetened. She gave an amused roll of her eyes.
For whatever reason, big, tough Jonathan was extra-sensitive to the boy’s wants. It was obvious that Jonathan would make Amos happy any way he could. But this time, she was sure he wouldn’t give in. Taking her would add more expense. And it wouldn’t be proper, either.
Amos’s pitch changed to a matter-of-fact tone. “I think we should take Emmie. If we leave her here, I’ll really miss her. Besides, who will I read to in Minnesota? Mommy might not be able to go. And who will bake the cookies?”
Another long silence ensued. Emma stood perfectly still. Her palm never left the knob. Her shoulders tensed, and her heart picked up speed to an uncertain beat while she wondered what Jonathan’s response would be.
To her surprise, none came. But Amos persisted. “Johnnie, don’t you like Emmie?”
The question seemed to take Jonathan off guard. Emma could tell by the surprised edge of his response. “Of course, Amos. Why would you think I don’t?”
“I dunno. Maybe ’cause you didn’t want the auction to happen.” Amos lifted the pitch of his small voice. “Once, I heard you tell her to stop it. I think you hurt her feelings. Johnnie, don’t you want my heart to get fixed?”
Emma stepped as far away as she could from the entrance. She definitely didn’t want to infringe on such a private conversation. It was wrong. But it was too cold to stand outside for long. And there was no way Emma could shut out the talk.
Even from some several yardsticks away, Emma was quick to catch the older Troyer’s deep intake of breath. Little Amos wasn’t shy. And she was certain Jonathan would do anything he could to put Amos’s creative mind at ease. The love for his small, sickly brother was strong. That she was sure of.
In the meantime, the speed of Emma’s heart ticked to a crazy beat. She hoped that Jonathan would take his time and make Amos understand whatever it was that he wanted to explain. At the same time, Emma was becoming quite uncomfortable in her small space. She was sure it was the most awkward position she’d ever been in. Despite the cold temperature, she wanted to fan her face. Taking a deep breath, she ordered the fast pace of her pulse to slow.
“Amos . . .” Jon finally proceeded. “I never want you to be unsure of anything. To doubt. Never be afraid to ask me anything you want. You understand?”
Emma didn’t hear a reply.
Several heartbeats later, Amos spoke. “Is this about Emmie?”
Jon cleared his throat. “It’s about our daddy.”
The pitch of Amos’s voice lowered to a melancholy tone that was barely more than a hush. “I miss him, Johnnie.”
Emma squeezed her lids closed in pain.
“Me, too. But when he was alive, he taught me all the time.”
“Oh, I get it. Like Emmie teaches me.”
“This . . . was a little bit different. It wasn’t really learning from books. I guess you could say that he taught me his beliefs. Values he’d inherited from his own father. He tried to instill in me all that he thought I should know.”
Jonathan hesitated. When he started again, his serious tone was edged with a newfound emotion. “Daddy was my best friend, Amos. My role model. And I miss him every day.”
“Me, too.”
A long pause ensued while Jonathan blew his nose. Emma lowered her lids in sympathy. Uncomfortable moisture formed in her eyes. Automatically, she blinked to clear her foggy vision. A knot tightened in her stomach. Her chest ached. The gray walls of the small space in which she stood seemed to close in.
It took a few moments to digest what she’d just heard. She’d never been this privy to the older Troyer brother’s emotional side. But she’d already learned that there was much more to Jonathan than met the eye. And she might be the only person who knew it. The newfound knowledge pulled at her heart.
“And what I learned from him, well, it wasn’t stuff you get from books. It was about how to live my life.”
He paused.
“Daddy taught me to be honest. To finish the job. To have a good work ethic.”
“What?”
“In other words, a man has to put out his best every day. You hang in there and do what needs to be d
one, kid, even if you’re sick or tired. You take care of your family. To him, that came first.”
There was a slight hesitation before he continued. “And he instilled in me to do things on my own. You know,” he added, “that being a man means supporting your family. To buy only what you can afford.”
“What if there’s not enough money?”
“Then you don’t buy it.”
There was a slight pause. “Ya see, Amos, I strive to be like Dad.”
“Me, too.”
“But I’m glad I accepted help in this case. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be getting your heart fixed.”
“Daddy would want me to play outside—I know it, Johnnie.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that he would.”
Emma closed her lids. It’s wrong to listen in on this. But what choice do I have? Please, God. Close my ears.
“It took me a while to admit that sometimes we’ve got to accept help. That in the end, swallowing my pride was worth you having this procedure that will change the rest of your life. But while the auction was taking place, I remembered something Dad told me out in the barn.”
“What was it?”
Jonathan cleared his throat. “We were talking about our family. Of a man’s huge responsibility to put their needs before his. I realized that taking care of you, little guy, is what that means. And if that requires using donations from all over the state of Illinois, so be it.”
“I understand. One day, when I have a bunch of kids, I’ll try to be as good as you, Johnnie. But I’ll never be as good as Daddy.”
The last statement prompted a laugh out of Jonathan. Emma held her hand over her mouth to stop a giggle that struggled to come out.
Amos was incredibly honest and open. He didn’t consider holding anything in. Maybe it was good; perhaps it wasn’t! At any rate, Emma wasn’t happy she had caught the private conversation intended for only little Amos.
On the surface, Jonathan appeared tough. But that was a façade. Because inside . . . Emma drew her hands over her chest and took in a deep breath of understanding. He was a teddy bear.
Emma straightened when she heard what she guessed was Amos jumping off of Jonathan’s lap.
“Let’s go have one of Emmie’s cookies.”
“Jah!”
When she heard both pairs of shoes leave the room, she opened the door and went in. Jonathan had spoken heart-to-heart with Amos. But somehow Emma felt that the talk had also been meant for her.
CHAPTER 7
Spurts of chilly wind slipped in between the cracks of the old red barn. Jonathan stopped a moment to pull his hat down over his ears. While he carried a bale of hay from the storage unit to the cow troughs, he considered his recent brother-to-brother conversation and sighed in relief.
For a moment, he stopped and gently set two pails on the floor on both sides of him. From where he stood, he took in the herd of milking cows outside in the bare pasture. He smiled in satisfaction.
He wished his dad was here to talk to while they did chores together. But his father had trained him well. Jonathan had now been given a mission and that was to step into his dad’s place.
Jonathan cupped his chin with his hand and recalled Amos’s honest comment about when he became a daddy. “I’ll try to be as good as you, Johnnie. But I’ll never be as good as Daddy.”
Jonathan laughed so hard, he coughed. He finally collected his thoughts and picked up his pails, continuing toward the troughs. The flock of pigeons on the upper windowsill had increased in number. They eyed the grain that he dumped into the food troughs.
He knew their purpose. As soon as Jonathan stepped away, the flock swooped down to steal tiny kernels of grain. As he returned, they scattered and flew back to their perch.
Cattle sounds filtered in through the wood. Bales of straw loomed on the west side up to the ceiling. He began carrying them, one at a time, to the stable area. The smell of livestock floated through the barn.
It wasn’t a pretty building; it needed a new coat of paint. Sturdy metal pails hung from hooks. So did other work paraphernalia, like pitchforks. Shovels.
Most people probably wouldn’t be fond of the strong odor that was a mixture of livestock, dried seed, and hay. But to Jonathan, this was his comfort zone.
He smiled a little. Within these four strong walls, he could think clearly. And right now, something bugged him. Nervously, he stepped back and forth, piling loads of filthy straw and replacing it with fresh.
As he contemplated what bothered him, he worked faster, finally becoming numb to the cold while he considered his heart-to-heart with his little brother. And it was then that he realized the crux of his problem and frowned.
Not because he wasn’t happy with how their talk had gone. He was. And he was fairly sure that, even at Amos’s young age, the boy understood Jonathan’s responsibility to family and why he’d been torn about accepting donations.
For a six-year-old, Amos was exceptionally bright. He quickly read everything Emma gave him. He also absorbed it.
Because Emma didn’t focus on math, Jonathan attempted to make it up, teaching Amos what he needed to know. Something in his conversation with Amos made Jonathan’s pulse on his wrist pick up to a disturbed pace.
As he grasped the top of his pitchfork and rested the spikes on the cement, he nodded when he realized what ate at him. To his surprise, it wasn’t Amos’s perception that Jonathan couldn’t compete with their dad. It was something asked at the get-go of their talk.
“Can Emmie go with us to Minnesota?”
Jonathan swallowed as he envisioned the hopeful expression in Amos’s eyes when he’d posed the question. It was asked with innocence, but it was obvious to Jonathan that the more times Emma baked cookies for the boy and helped him with school, the more Amos had bonded with her.
Is that something to be concerned about? Why would his strong love for Emma bother me? That’s ridiculous. With Mom down, he’s craving affection. Besides, I don’t have to worry about Emma disappointing him. She’s so dependable.
Finally, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He continued cleaning the grazing area and dreamed of spring. In a few months, he would be working inside of the barn with wide open doors. The pasture would be a deep shade of green, not the pale brown it was today. The fresh smell of clover and sweet scent of wildflowers would fill the air.
And Amos would be healthy, wouldn’t he? Jonathan stopped what he was doing and pulled in a deep, frightened breath. At this moment, he knew what troubled him most. It was Amos’s procedure.
He was grateful that the surgery would take place. Jonathan closed his eyes and tried to think only positive thoughts, like Emma claimed to do.
He rested an elbow on his pitchfork and squeezed his eyes closed in a desperate prayer. “Dear Lord, You know my thoughts and fears. Right now I’m afraid. Scared of losing my dear brother.”
He caught an emotional breath. “Help me to be brave and to rest assured that You will protect Amos during his procedure. I know that only You can work miracles, Lord, and I ask You with all of my heart to get Amos through the surgery safely. Protect him. And I pray with everything I have that You would be with his surgeon and help Amos recover quickly.”
He opened his eyes and blinked away salty moisture stinging his pupils. Then he smiled relief. He would rely on his holy Father to protect Amos. The situation was out of Jonathan’s control.
He continued clearing dirty straw, only this time, he whistled while he did it. He wanted to shout with happiness. The heavy weight of fear had been lifted off of his shoulders. He knew his Lord and Savior would watch over his little brother and heal him.
And as far as Amos’s request to take Emma to Minnesota? Jonathan’s lips curved in amusement. He couldn’t blame Amos. How could he hold loving Emma against him?
Jonathan rolled his eyes. He couldn’t. Because he was fond of her, too.
Two days before Christmas, Jonathan put on his coat to drive Emma home in the buggy.
As Emma slipped her arms into her coat sleeves, Amos’s small voice prompted her to look down.
“Aren’t you going to put on your coat, Amos?”
He shook his head. “Mom asked me to stay here.” He bubbled with excitement. “I’m going to show her how good I can read the story about Daniel and the den of lions.” Amos raised the pitch of his voice to a more excited tone.
He clutched his fingers over his waist as his eyes grew larger. Holding the small picture book with his right hand, he lifted it and exclaimed with a combination of energy and enthusiasm. “It’s my favorite, Emmie. I can’t believe God saved him from the lions! If God did that, He will fix my heart. I know it!”
Before Emma could reply, Amos bounded out of the room. Jonathan’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“You’ve got him addicted to stories, Emma.” He grinned. “And that’s a good thing. I’m relieved that Mom’s starting to feel well enough to get up and about. Amos needs her.” He chuckled. “The kid’s got an imagination bigger than the state of Texas. Have you seen all the pictures he’s drawn of Daniel in the lions’ den?”
Emma missed Amos. She enjoyed the threesome in the buggy. Everything about the little boy inspired her. His attitude. His faith. The way he loved everything he read and imagined what would happen after the denouements.
As they stepped outside, she eyed Jonathan from her peripheral vision and smiled a little. She must tell him she had overheard his conversation and why. Before they reached her home. At first, she’d been certain she shouldn’t interrupt his talk with Amos. Now, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t feel good about being in on such a private, emotional conversation.
“Ready?”
Jonathan’s eager voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned and tightened her neck scarf. “Sure.”
He motioned her in front of him. When he opened the back door, bitter cold wind hit her in the face, and she stopped to catch her breath.
“Are you okay?”
“Jah. I wasn’t prepared for this.”
“It’s supposed to be another record-breaking low tonight,” he said. As he spoke, she half heard his words because the fierce wind absorbed part of what he said.
