Keys of Heaven

by Adina Senft

  “Two weeks in someone else’s family isn’t going to fix the problems in his own.”

  “No, but he might learn a thing or two that would help him handle things better.”

  Sarah couldn’t imagine what—he was far too old to be taught to obey, which was probably the best thing to help a child “handle things,” but she was going to have to do her best.

  Henry followed her around to the outside sink, where she dumped out the vegetables and turned on the cold-water faucet to rinse them. They had parted on slightly chilly terms the other night because he’d been in a hurry to see Ginny, and slightly chilly was no way to be with one’s neighbors.

  “I hope you will stay for dinner, Henry,” she said, scrubbing the carrots vigorously. “I think Eric would feel more comfortable with you here.”

  He ran water into his side of the sink, then took the lettuces and began to wash them. “You might be right. And considering the alternative is boiled eggs and bacon, I’d be happy to.”

  “You’re not having dinner with Ginny?” came out of her mouth before she even realized the thought was lurking in her mind, ready to spring like a kitten upon any wisp of passing common sense.

  “No.” The pile of lettuce and spinach on the counter grew. “We don’t see each other every day. About as often as you would see Silas, I suppose.”

  “I’m not seeing Silas, as I told you.” She dropped her voice so it was nearly inaudible. “And you’re not to say things like that out loud where Caleb can hear.” Then in a more normal tone, she said, “It was interesting, Benny Peachey being the one to bring Eric back to Willow Creek. I wish he hadn’t left quite so soon—his mother said she would have him collect some herbs for me and I wanted to talk with him about them.”

  “With no Priscilla, there would be no point in his staying. He says he’s courting her.”

  The carrots were clean, so she returned them to the plastic bowl, along with the clean greens and some cucumbers. “What a man says and what a woman thinks can be two different things. She’s writing to Joe, don’t forget. That means something to a girl like her.”

  “I think it’s all in Benny’s mind—that, or he just says outrageous things to get her to blush. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “All the same, I won’t mention it when I write to Simon. If Priscilla has something to say to Joe, she’ll say it herself.”

  “She has no trouble saying what needs to be said, I’ll give her that. Here, let me carry that in for you.”

  She relinquished the bowl. “I’ll just be a minute. I want to get some nasturtiums to put in the salad. If Eric is going to stay here, we’ll start him off properly.”

  As it turned out, Eric did not appreciate the nasturtiums. He did not appreciate salad either, or pickles, or anything remotely resembling a vegetable. He cleaned up every scrap of ham and macaroni, and asked for seconds, but when he asked for thirds, Sarah shook her head. “Not until you eat your salad. Look at Caleb’s plate. He knows that God gave us vegetables to help our bodies work properly.”

  The boy looked at the plate, then at the bowl of macaroni that she had prudently removed to her end of the table. “But I’m starving. I haven’t had anything to eat in two days.”

  “Then you’ll find the salad very satisfying.”

  He pushed his chair back. “Mom never makes me eat stuff I don’t like.”

  “No wonder your body is starving, then,” Sarah said imperturbably. “It is not getting what it needs.”

  “Eric,” Henry said, buttering another slice of her homemade bread, “we have a deal. You get to stay here instead of all by yourself in your dad’s company apartment in the middle of New York. And in exchange for that, you fit in. I’ll tell you this—a man can’t wedge clay forty pounds at a time if he doesn’t get his nutrition. Look at the difference between your arms and Caleb’s.”

  Caleb looked at his own forearms, below where his shirtsleeves had been rolled up, as if he’d never seen them before. Her boy worked hard and without complaint, and he had the tanned, strong muscles to show for it, even at fourteen. There was a reason the Amish didn’t bother to go to a gym or jog, Sarah thought with an inward smile. After the kind of day she and Caleb put in, who would have the energy?

  Eric looked from Caleb’s to his own pale, skinny arms. Then at the salad bowl, conveniently located next to his elbow.

  “I’m not eating those yellow flowers. They probably have bugs in them.”

  “I’ll eat them,” Caleb said, removing the last two and popping them in his mouth. “Try the green goddess salad dressing Mamm made. It’s really gut.”

  Sarah felt a sense of satisfaction at seeing the vegetables go down. If nothing else, the boy would go home with two weeks of nutritious meals and exercise under his belt. And then maybe he’d have the emotional stamina to deal with his family. Perhaps that was what Henry had meant.

  After the prayer at the end of the meal, Caleb cleared the table. “Come and help me wash the dishes.”

  “Is it as hard as making a bed? Priscilla taught me at the Inn, but it was a lot to remember.”

  “Neh. Much simpler. They go in dirty, they come out clean. Do you want to sing a song?”

  While Sarah swept up the kitchen floor, Caleb taught him the Noah song and how to wash dishes, both of which her boy had learned when he was hardly taller than the tabletop. Eric picked up the song quickly, and she smiled at the sound of two boyish voices in her kitchen once again.

  Henry rigged up the Coleman lamps in the living room, and when the sweeping and the dishes were done, Sarah settled into her favorite chair next to her mending basket, while Caleb got out the English Bible.

  “What are we doing?” Eric wanted to know.

  “At night, before we go to bed, Caleb reads a little from the Bible so that we go to sleep with God’s words in our minds,” Sarah explained. “Especially since tomorrow is Sunday. We do not go to church until next week, but we’ll still spend some quiet time together in the morning.”

  Eric seemed less concerned about tomorrow than tonight. “Before we go to bed? It’s only eight o’clock.” He looked around. “My superhero cartoons come on at eight. Where’s your TV?”

  Caleb grinned. “No electricity. No TV. No radio, no computer. But tomorrow we have lots of cows to milk at Daadi’s place, so you’ll be glad to go to bed.”

  “At eight o’clock? I don’t think so.”

  “That gives you eight hours of sleep, Eric,” Henry pointed out.

  Eric did the sum in his head. “You get up at four in the morning? ” Eric’s dismay seemed to be deepening with every word they said. “I don’t have to, do I?” He appealed to Henry.

  Sarah kept silent. This was the moment where Henry needed to back her up. Henry had been the one to allow—even request—that Eric stay. If Eric were to do so, he would need to learn their ways for two weeks. If Henry backed down so that the boy would become merely a special guest who did not participate in family life, then she would gently suggest that Eric stay at the Byler place instead of at hers.

  Her heart went out to Eric, getting ready to step into the world so wholly unprepared with even the smallest knowledge of how a household worked—or of what responsibility meant, or how it felt to be valued as a part of something bigger than himself. It would be good for him to stay. She could pack lots of lessons into two weeks. He had crossed three states to come here and work with Henry at the pottery studio. If he was willing to do that, he would be willing for the rest.

  “I’m afraid you do,” Henry told Eric with gentle firmness.

  Sarah’s back relaxed into the cushions of her chair.

  “Sarah has agreed to feed you, keep your clothes clean, and give you a bed to sleep in. I’ve agreed to teach you as much as I can in the two weeks we have. We’re both giving something. What are you giving?”

  It was clear that, as determined as he was to learn and despite all he’d done to get here, Eric was used to thinking in terms of getting, not g
iving.

  “This is what you can give in return for the gifts we’re giving you,” Henry said. “You can help Caleb with his chores. You can work in the garden, picking the vegetables you’re going to eat at dinner—and yes, you’ll eat them. And I’m sure there are other things you can help Sarah with when we’re not working in the studio.”

  “I would love to have the beds made as nicely as the ones at the Inn,” Sarah said wistfully, as if this possibility had been denied her all her life. “And the boy who helps whip the frosting for the whoopie pies is the boy who gets to lick the beaters afterward.”

  “No fair,” Caleb protested.

  “There are two beaters,” she reminded him, playfully lowering her voice as if it were their secret.

  “So that we don’t have to have this conversation again, do you agree that it’s fair and right that everyone pitches in?” Henry asked.

  After a moment of thought, Eric nodded his head, once. Then he nodded again, several times.

  “Gut, then,” Caleb said. “We’re reading from Matthew this week, Eric.” He handed him the Bible and pointed out the verse where they’d left off the night before. “It’s in English. Start right there.”

  * * *

  Dear Priscilla,

  Well, I just had my first experience at doctoring someone and I don’t know how Michael’s Sarah does it. I suppose you heard that Simon got his foot stepped on by a horse, and since we got no way to go to town except by begging a ride, or to pay for a doctor except by begging for an advance against our wages, it was up to us hands here to look after him.

  Walt the foreman is an EMT but he couldn’t do much but ice it and give Simon a couple days off. Then Sarah’s package came last night and you should have seen Walt’s face when I started putting old burdock leaves in the pot he uses to boil water for his instant coffee. Anyhow, I did what Sarah’s instructions said so now we have to wait and see.

  Simon’s pretty upset about not being able to work but Walt told him to quit it. Everybody gets stepped on and he has a whole list of tasks that a man can do sitting down while he mends. Ha ha. Simon’s learning how to patch jeans and ain’t he thrilled about that. He already knew how to peel potatoes and shuck corn, which is good because we eat those a lot and it saves Teresa the cook having to do it. She parked him at the big table in the kitchen today and he works with his foot up on a chair. Course, he gets treats but I guess you have to have something to make up for missing out on rides and men’s work.

  We been here a whole month now and I still miss home. I don’t know how them fellows who leave the church manage it. We haven’t got down to visit the Amish church yet but we hope to soon. I’m glad you like working at the Inn. Me and Jake helped Dad do some work around there a while back. Ginny is a nice woman. Her sticky buns are real good.

  I hope you’ll write back soon. I like the sound of your voice in the words.

  Your friend,

  Joe Byler

  Chapter 24

  On Monday, after Sarah had done the washing and hung out their shirts, pants, and dresses to dry on the line—with the underwear hung discreetly inside on the drying rack in Simon’s room—she harnessed Dulcie and set off in the buggy for the Peachey place.

  Linda had been on her mind a lot since the last time she’d seen her, and after a couple of weeks of her patient drinking the tea, Sarah was anxious to know if she was seeing a change. With any luck, Benny would be at home, and she could take him into the fields and show him the kinds of herbs she needed for his aunt’s health.

  But mostly, she was just glad to get away by herself. That Eric, he was a strong-minded one. She’d known it going in, but it was one thing to hear about his epic journey, and another to see that same stubbornness in her own house.

  Luckily, Caleb was not the kind to mimic bad behavior. He had less patience with it than she did—she supposed because he was not prepared to let Eric get away with anything he couldn’t do himself.

  Yesterday morning, her father-in-law had set the Englisch boy to simple tasks in the milking parlor, and sheer awe of his size and his beard and the way his kindly gaze still managed to pin you down had apparently made Eric decide that obedience was the only way he’d survive the experience. And to give him credit, he’d made the beds after breakfast. All of them, much to Sarah’s surprise. But he’d had a hard time sitting through the Sunday reading and singing, there in their own living room, and after lunch Caleb had finally taken him off to Henry’s, where he stayed until supper.

  Dulcie slowed for a cross highway and Sarah carefully looked both ways before they made the left turn toward the Peachey place. Bringing up boys was no easy matter. She had been lucky that Michael was such a good father—and that his father had stepped in to fill that place when Michael had been taken from her. She was surrounded by good men.

  Even Henry had not completely forgotten the upbringing of his childhood when he had stepped up to support her without her needing to say a word. Someday, she hoped, he would see that he belonged in their world still. After all, his reactions to others were Amish reactions. He took the place of authority when it was needed—such as with children—and the mantle of Uffgeva, or humility, when it was needed. He wasn’t proud about his art, and other than the little sign at the end of his lane, which was no more and a lot less than any Amish craftsman might put there, he was very close-mouthed about it.

  The Peachey place came into view and Sarah turned in. At least the garden was coming along well, given that it had to feed the family when all else failed. It needed a good weeding, though. She left Dulcie cropping grass and crossed the yard.

  The door opened and Linda stepped out. “Sarah, ischt gut to see you. Are you giving me a checkup?”

  “I am.” She pretended to give Linda the once-over, and then looked more closely. “Your skin looks better. You’re getting more sleep, aren’t you?”

  “Ja, I am. I never would have believed it. By the time I take the last cup at night, I’m ready for bed and fall right to sleep. Come into the kitchen and let me see what I can fix for us while we talk.”

  She brought out a coffee cake that had a few slices left from breakfast, and poured two cups of coffee from the pot on the stove. It was bitter, but Sarah swallowed bravely and poured in some extra milk without saying a word.

  “Isn’t the weather beautiful?” Linda said, gazing out the kitchen window. “I’m half tempted to be like Benny, and go have a swim in the creek.”

  “Is that where he is?”

  “He and Leon said they were taking their youngest brother fishing, so I hope they catch something. Arlon and Crist went to Whinburg to get some crates from the pallet shop there, and Ella went with them. So I’m home all alone and it’s very tempting to play hooky.”

  Sarah made up her mind. “Why don’t we? I’d love to take a ramble through your woods to see what I can harvest.”

  The Peachey acres included a wooded stretch along a shallow bend in Willow Creek across from the Esh farm, one of the largest in the area. Through the trees, Hiram Esh’s neatly planted acres stretched into the distance, reminding Sarah again of the contrast between the two families. Linda seemed as much at home in the woods as she did in the kitchen, but that could be because both places were one step removed from a wilderness.

  No, that was unkind. She must stop being so critical. But, Sarah told herself, the only reason these thoughts came was because she wanted to help. Linda’s condition and her inability to conceive would be improved by some peace. Some security. Her own home. But how?

  The local swimming hole was below the Rose Arbor Inn, but here, upstream from the splashing and play, was where the fishermen tended to congregate. As Sarah and Linda walked the path trodden smooth by generations of people who knew the secret of the pools and logs where the trout fanned themselves, she debated how to bring up the subject.

  “Look.” She bent to a clump of plants that bore white flowers. “Feverfew.”

  “I thought those were dais
ies.”

  “They belong to the daisy family, it’s true. Ruth uses them for migraine headaches, so I’m going to try a tincture.” She picked a number of stems with lots of healthy leaves and flowers, and walked on. “I was hoping to see Benny. If he runs across any more mullein plants in the fields, I could sure use those, too.”

  “I told him, but Benny—he has a memory like a sieve. He and Leon found pieces of an old buggy out in these woods and they’ve been busy fixing it up. I hardly see them.”

  Sarah kept her mouth shut. It’s not my place. It’s not my place. But Linda’s health was her place. “I know we’ve spoken before about you having a peaceful home of your own.”

  Linda nodded, and stretched up to pick a stem of orange daylily from a clump growing on the bank above the path. Her slender figure looked as though it was gaining a little weight. No wonder her face looked more relaxed, between the lady’s mantle tincture and the tea. “We have. And I said I didn’t know how we would manage it. Or that we would want to.” She glanced at Sarah. “It’s not so bad, you know, what God has given us. There is enough on the table, and when there isn’t, our families are happy to help out.”

  “I know, but I honestly feel that you would bloom better in a field of your own.”

  “But how? Just for the sake of discussion. There are no places to rent around Willow Creek.”

  “But there might be. What about Sadie Byler’s place?”

  Twirling the lily between her fingers, Linda walked on down the path. “But that Englisch potter has it now. Her nephew.”

  “I know, but he doesn’t farm it. His cousins and uncles do. What if Crist went in with them, and you rented the house?”

  Now incredulity fought with politeness in Linda’s gaze. “Would you have me turn a man out of his home?”

  “No, of course not, but he’s seeing a woman in town—Ginny, who has the Rose Arbor Inn. If they were to marry, it would make sense for him to move to the Inn, and then the farm would be available. And even if they don’t, it’s a big house, and he spends most of his time in the studio in the barn. He might be convinced to rent it to you, and just keep a room for himself. I know he appreciates a woman’s good cooking.”