“She told me that she loves you,” Rhoda said, her voice quivering.
“But how did this happen?”
“She just stopped breathing. She said she wanted to go home. She said Dat was waiting for her.”
“But I thought she might last longer.”
“So did I.”
Bart’s face crumpled, and Rhoda could see he was trying not to break down.
She stepped forward and clasped his arm. “She was happy to go,” she whispered. “She wanted to see Gott. And Dat.”
Bart shook his head back and forth. “Nee. It wasn’t time.”
Rhoda squeezed his arm. He broke free and began pacing. “You were right,” he said. “You were right.”
Rhoda looked at him.
“You said she’d die if we moved her from her home. You were right.” A panicked look covered his face. “This is my fault.”
“Nee! It isn’t. She told me we had no choice but to move her here. She told me. She understood.”
Bart looked at her through his tears. “What do you mean?”
Rhoda told him their mother’s last words. As she spoke, she could see Bart begin to relax, his regret lessen.
He glanced at Winnie’s still form. “I need to tell Evelyn and the kinner.”
“And Donna. And Martha.” Rhoda felt a surge of dread cover her. They would be upset that they hadn’t been here with her. And Donna? How would she deal with this?
“Jah. Martha and Donna,” Bart said. He wiped his eyes and left the room. But before he could leave the daadi haus, Evelyn came in.
“Bart? I heard you come back.”
Rhoda could easily hear her from the bedroom.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
Bart mumbled something. There was a cry and then weeping. Evelyn came into the bedroom slowly. She looked at Winnie with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“So, she’s gone?”
Rhoda nodded. “She was happy to go.”
Evelyn went to the bed and took Winnie’s hand in hers. “Good-bye Mama,” she said softly. “We love you.”
She placed Winnie’s hand gently to her side. “Old Mae was right. She was ready to go. But I never thought…” she paused and swallowed hard. “I never thought she’d go this soon.”
“It was time.” Rhoda felt strange, almost as if she wasn’t really there in the room. More like she was observing it from afar. It didn’t seem real. She knew it was, but it felt more like a dream.
“Bart has gone to fetch Martha and Donna,” Evelyn told her. She glanced back at Winnie. “We’ll have to dress her in white.”
Winnie was wearing her dark brown cape dress. It was one of her favorites; although, it wasn’t her nicest dress.
Rhoda gazed at her mother’s face. She looked younger somehow. Peaceful. Happy. “We’ll wait for Martha and Donna.”
“Jah.”
Rhoda walked forward and massaged her mother’s foot through the quilt. “She’s with Gott now.”
“And Zeb.”
“Jah. And Dat.”
Rhoda was sitting in the front room of the daadi haus when Martha and Donna rushed in.
“Where is she?” Donna asked. Her face looked ashen and her movements were jerky, but she was coherent.
Martha walked over to Rhoda. Rhoda stood, and they hugged. “Was it peaceful?” Martha asked.
Rhoda nodded. “At the end, it was. She was happy.”
Martha sucked in a breath. “Gut. I’m glad.”
“She wanted you to know that she loved you…”
Martha began to weep. “I know. I know she did.”
“Where’s Bart?” Evelyn asked.
“He’s gone for the bishop. We’ll have to plan her funeral.”
Plan her funeral. The words bounced around the room. Rhoda shook her head. It wasn’t real. But it was.
Rhoda inhaled. “Martha, we have to hold it at the farmhouse. It wouldn’t be right any other place.”
“I agree. We’ll open the house back up. Matthew’s lease hasn’t started yet, so it’ll be all right.”
Rhoda nodded. Zeb built this house for me. She could almost hear her mother’s voice again. It was only fitting that her funeral be there.
Martha went in to see Winnie’s body, and Rhoda followed her. Donna stood stiffly by the bed, crying. Martha and Rhoda joined her.
“She looks right peaceful, doesn’t she?” Martha said.
Donna sniffed loudly. She turned to Rhoda. “What happened?”
Rhoda told them both of Winnie’s last hours.
“So, Old Mae advised leaving her be…” Martha said.
“Jah.”
“She must have known. Old Mae always knows.”
Donna frowned. “How can she know? She doesn’t know everything!”
“She seems to have an innate sense about these things. I think she’s so close to Gott that she knows.” Martha patted Winnie’s arm.
Donna scoffed. “Sounds evil when you say it like that.”
“Nee,” Martha said. “It doesn’t. She’s just that close to Gott is all.”
Donna pressed her lips together. Rhoda sighed and left them alone with the body. She went to her room and sat on the edge of her bed. Her eyes still welled with tears, but she was relieved. Relieved for her mother. Winnie didn’t have to yearn for Zeb any longer. Rhoda lit the lantern on her bedside table and reached in the drawer for her tablet and pen.
Aaron.
She wished he was there. Now, he would miss the funeral and burial. She needed to tell him, at least. He should know. She got out her stationery.
Dear Aaron,
I write this with a grieving heart tonight. Mamm has passed over. I had so recently picked up her walker. We had such high hopes. She refused to use it. But more than that, she refused to eat.
We called in Old Mae, and she told us that Mamm was beginning her transition. But, Aaron, never in my wildest thoughts did I expect it to happen so quickly. I was there when she died for which I’m very grateful. It was bittersweet.
Old Mae told us that death is part of life. When she said that, I felt something in me rebel. But, it turns out that of course, she’s right. We all know it. But it still grieves my heart.
I will miss her. My last years have been so tied up in caring for her, that I fear I shall be lost. And since it’s winter, there are no crops to plant, no garden to care for, and no bees to watch flitting about the blossoms. It’s cold.
The men will likely have a hard time digging the grave. Truth be told, I don’t know how they are going to accomplish it. The bishop is on his way here with Bart. I imagine the funeral will be in three days, like always. We will have it at the old farmhouse. Mamm would have wanted it that way.
Rhoda paused and reread what she’d written. She was grateful to be writing to Aaron. It wasn’t the same as speaking to him in person, but it was much better than nothing. She closed her eyes and visualized him reading her letter. His brows would furrow with concern, and his eyes would be intent on the page. He would probably be sitting, and his broad shoulders would hunch down as he bent over her letter.
He was such a loving person. Oh. She missed him.
How are you doing? Is your father continuing to improve?
I find my mind quite scattered right now. Perhaps, I shall write more later.
Rhoda
She folded the letter and found an envelope in her drawer. She also had a fresh supply of stamps. She pressed one onto the corner of the envelope.
She walked to the door of her mother’s room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?” Martha asked.
Rhoda didn’t want to tell her, but she didn’t want to lie, either. “Just a little errand. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
Martha’s brows raised, but she said nothing. Donna didn’t even turn around.
Rhoda pulled on her cape and gloves. She picked up the lantern that sat on the dining table and left the house. There was no win
d. No sound. Even Bart’s crazy rooster, who crowed at all hours, was silent. The cold air and clear black skies made Rhoda think of being in a large cave. A cave removed from the rest of the world. She inhaled deeply, feeling the freezing air travel down her windpipe.
Hollow. That’s how she felt. Completely hollow. She increased her pace to the main road. When she was almost to the end of the drive, Bart came rumbling in with the buggy. She could see the dark silhouette of the bishop sitting next to him.
Bart pulled the horse to a halt. Bishop stuck his head through the window.
“Rhoda? Where are you off to?”
Rhoda paused, wishing she would have ducked behind a tree so she wouldn’t be seen. And it wasn’t just because she was mailing a letter to Aaron Raber. She had a sudden desire to be by herself. She couldn’t explain it, but it nearly overwhelmed her, giving her the urge to ignore the bishop and run away.
Her eyes widened at the thought.
“I-I’m just mailing a letter,” she mumbled.
Bart leaned across the bishop. “You telling the relatives?”
She blanched. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “I’ll write them next,” she said.
“Next?”
“Martha and Donna are in the daadi haus with Mamm,” she said quickly to change the subject. “I think Evelyn’s still with the kinner in the big house.”
“All right,” Bart said.
Chapter Ten
Rhoda hurried off before he could say anything more, and the buggy rolled toward the barn. She went to the mailbox and opened it. She placed her letter to Aaron inside and was about to close the mailbox back up. But before she did, she pressed her gloved fingers to her lips and then pressed the kiss onto the envelope.
She closed the mailbox and hesitated. What a thing to do. Kiss an envelope. Had she gone daft? Such things were not done. They were too forward. Worldly.
In the cold emptiness, she felt a flush come to her face. Slowly, she turned and headed back down the drive. Did she have to return to the daadi haus? Did she have to stand there and listen to plans for the funeral?
“Mamm, oh, Mamm,” she whispered. “Are you happy now? Are you with Dat?”
A local funeral director handled the embalming of Winnie’s body. That was the extent of his involvement. Isaiah King made the plain pine casket where Winnie now lay in the front room of her house. The house Zeb had lovingly built for her.
Rhoda stood beside the casket, looking down at her mother. She’d seen dead people before—she’d seen her father all those years ago. But somehow, looking at Winnie’s still form, and seeing her skin that had taken on a strange hue gave Rhoda such a feeling of grief that she could barely stand there.
It was the day before the funeral, and they were holding a visitation. There would be no great shows of sadness. It wasn’t their way. So, Rhoda needed to get herself in hand and brace herself for a very long afternoon.
Evelyn popped her head into the front room. “Rhoda, would you like some tea?”
Rhoda flinched and looked at her. “Jah. That would be nice.”
She could hear all the kinner, all her mamm’s grandchildren in the dining room where Martha was giving them all a snack. They would be expected to sit quietly during the visitation. Rhoda pursed her lips. Mamm would have preferred they be outside playing wildly under the trees.
Her eyes misted over, and she blinked. Enough of that.
The next day was the funeral and the bishop would preach in Pennsylvania Dutch. The hymns would be spoken instead of sung. And her mother’s name would barely be mentioned. But praise would be given that she was being ushered into the Afterlife.
Which was comforting to ponder.
Rhoda had heard that Englisch funerals focused almost completely on the person who had died—that words of praise regarding the deceased were spoken. Memories shared. And crying freely done in public. How odd that would be.
But Winnie wouldn’t have wanted to be the center of attention. She would have eschewed it all with an impatient wave of her hand. Rhoda smiled down at her mother’s body.
“I’ll miss you,” she murmured. “I already do.”
Evelyn entered the room. “Here’s your tea. The people should be coming any minute.”
Rhoda nodded and took a sip of the hot liquid. It felt good in her mouth and slipping down her throat. She circled the cup with her hands.
“Bart told me they finished the grave,” Evelyn said.
Rhoda looked up. “It’s dug?”
“It’s dug. There were quite a few who worked at it. The ground wasn’t as frozen as we’d feared.”
Rhoda took another sip of tea.
“Mama will rest beside Zeb now.” Evelyn looked at Winnie’s body with tears in her eyes. The kerosene lamps around the casket shed a strange glow over Winnie’s face.
Rhoda nodded. “Like she wanted.”
“Mamm!” Gertie called from the dining area.
Evelyn squeezed Rhoda’s shoulder and went to attend her daughter.
Later that evening, Rhoda sat on her bed upstairs in her old room. She’d brought her pillow and quilts back when they’d put Winnie’s body in the front room. She couldn’t bear the thought of her mother staying alone overnight in the house. Which, of course, was silly, but Rhoda couldn’t help it.
Bart offered to stay with her, but Rhoda refused, saying she preferred to be alone with her mother, just like they had lived alone together those last years.
That night, Rhoda didn’t sleep well. She had the oddest sensation that Winnie’s spirit was there beside her. Rhoda knew it was her imagination or longings or fatigue, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. It didn’t scare her. It was almost a comfort. During the wee hours of the morning, Rhoda stopped trying to figure it out or shove it aside. She simply closed her eyes, prayed again for peace, and went to sleep.
She awoke to sounds in the kitchen below. She glanced at the wind-up clock on her bedside table. How in the world had she slept in till eight o-clock? She jumped out of bed, snatched her black cape dress from its peg and ran down the hall to the bathroom. People would be arriving, and she hadn’t even dressed.
Rhoda bathed and dressed in record time, hurrying to the kitchen to see who was there. She stopped short when she saw it was Donna.
“Donna! You’re here.”
Donna turned from the stove where she was making scrambled eggs. “Gut morning, Rhoda.”
“I didn’t expect to see you so early.”
Donna raised a brow. “I didn’t expect to find you still in bed.”
Was Donna teasing her? Rhoda’s lips parted in surprise. She hadn’t heard any type of banter from Donna’s lips in … well, forever.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well. I guess I was making up for it by sleeping in.” Rhoda continued to study her sister.
Donna made a face. “Will you quit looking at me like that? I’m not some two-headed monster.”
Rhoda frowned in confusion. Even Donna’s complaint sounded amused. What was going on?
Donna scraped the spatula under the eggs, flipping and stirring them. “You hungry?”
“Where are Travis and the kinner?”
“They’ll be here soon. I’m sure Martha and her family and Bart’s bunch are on their way, too.”
Rhoda went to the counter. She was glad that Evelyn had sent a couple loaves of bread with her yesterday. She arranged the bread on a baking tray to put in the oven.
“I’m glad you’re up and about.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Donna snapped. “It’s my mother’s funeral!”
Rhoda bit her lip. So, they were back to the Donna she was used to. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Rhoda said. She pulled open the fridge door and got out the butter and preserves.
Donna let out her breath in an audible sigh.
Rhoda bit her lip and then spoke. “I don’t think I ever apologized for how I left your house that time.”
Donna said nothing, but her stir
ring grew more vigorous.
“I was rude, and I’m sorry.” Rhoda reached for a stack of plates that had been left there after she’d moved out.
Donna put the spatula on the counter and turned off the burner. She faced Rhoda. “I guess I should apologize, too.”
Rhoda was heartened, but she remained quiet.
“Mamm is dead, Rhoda.”
They stared at each other. Tears sprang to Rhoda’s eyes. And then Donna lunged forward and grabbed Rhoda. She lay her head on Rhoda’s shoulder and sobbed. Rhoda’s arms tightened around her, and she cried with her.
They stood for the longest moment. Rhoda couldn’t remember the last time that she had felt so close to Donna. There was no undercurrent of resentment or hard feelings or whatever it was that had plagued their relationship for as long as she could remember.
They were simply two sisters caught up in grief.
Donna backed away. She grabbed a napkin from the kitchen table and blew her nose. “I just can’t believe it,” she whispered.
“Neither can I. I thought she’d still have years left.”
“Me, too. I haven’t been well…” Donna looked into Rhoda’s eyes and then shifted her gaze to the floor.
“I know,” Rhoda whispered.
“I’ve been so … so incredibly sad.”
“I know.” Rhoda wanted to hug her again, but she was afraid to move. She was afraid to break the spell between them.
“After Abby was born … I couldn’t…” Donna inhaled sharply and tears hovered on her lashes. “It was like I fell into a deep hole.”
Rhoda’s face creased with concern. That was it. Donna had phrased it well—she had fallen into a deep hole.
“I couldn’t climb out. No matter how hard I tried.” Donna looked again at Rhoda, a pleading in her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Rhoda nodded slightly.
“And I know I acted terribly. I know I did. I am sorry.”
Rhoda’s throat tightened. “It’s all right, Donna. I’m your sister.”
Amish Days: Coming Home: A Hollybrook Amish Romance (Rhoda's Story Book 3) Page 5
