by Irene Brand
She resisted the urge to turn on the light and settled deep under the covers. She slipped her hand under the pillow and touched a flashlight. Laughing softly, she turned on the light and flashed it around the room, discovering that the Praying Hands figurine on the nightstand, that she’d thought was an ornament, was really a night-light. She pushed a button on the figurine and a faint light glowed around her. Hilda had thought of everything for her comfort!
The warmth from the heated mattress pad eased her body, and Wendy went to sleep.
Wendy awakened to a soft crackling sound and realized that the room was warmer than it had been when she’d gone to bed. She traced the noise to heating radiators under the windows.
She was so comfortable she didn’t want to leave her bed, but she opened her eyes and saw a white piece of paper near the door. She slipped out of the warm bed, retrieved the note and got back under the covers before she read it.
“Good morning, darling,” Evan had written. “I hope you had a good night’s rest. I’m counting the hours until we can be together again.”
Wendy held the note close to her heart. It was six o’clock, and she wondered what time she should get up. She hadn’t heard anyone stir, but after a while, she got up, put on a robe and walked to the window. Daylight was breaking softly, and Wendy had her first look at the farmland Evan loved so much.
The house was on a knoll, overlooking wide fields along the banks of a big muddy river. A row of leafless trees marked a large curve in the river, and Wendy had a slight view of wooded hills above the house. Apparently, the farm buildings were behind the house and hidden from her view.
Accustomed to green trees all year round, the landscape looked stark to Wendy. A few oak trees still retained their brown leaves, and there were patches of evergreens in the middle of the forest. Could she ever be content to live in an area like this when she’d grown up in a sunny climate in a state surrounded by sandy beaches, palm trees and lively tourist attractions?
She turned from the window when she heard a slight knock on the adjoining bathroom door.
“Come in,” she said, and Olivia opened the door and peeked in. The girl’s eyes were heavy with sleep and her short blond hair was tousled.
“Just checking to see if you’re up. We usually eat breakfast at seven, but Mom said to let you sleep late today. I’ve got to hurry and get ready for school, so I’ll take my shower first, if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead. Do you ride a bus to school?”
“Yes, and it comes at quarter to eight. This is Marcy’s first year in college. She drives to Rio Grande every day. She has a nine-o’clock class so she’s ready to leave. I’ll hurry so you can get ready for the day.”
Wendy went back to bed until Olivia tapped on the door again. “I’m going now, Wendy,” she called. “You’ll have the upstairs to yourself. See you tonight.”
The house seemed unusually quiet after Olivia’s running steps disappeared down the stairway. Wendy stayed in bed a few more minutes, alternately dreading and looking forward to the day. She couldn’t hear anything except the hissing of the radiators, which wasn’t surprising, considering the ten-inch-thick brick walls.
Hilda was in the family room, reading the Bible, when Wendy opened the door.
“Good morning, Wendy,” Hilda said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes. The bed was so warm and cozy that I hated to leave it. I’m not used to cold weather.”
Hilda glanced at Wendy’s lightweight slacks, blouse and sandals. “In this area, most of us have three different wardrobes. One set of clothing for winter, another for summer and a third one for spring and fall. Maybe Evan can take you shopping this afternoon.”
Wendy shook her head. “I don’t want to buy clothes to wear for two weeks in Ohio that I can’t use when I go back to Florida. I’ll just have to be cold.”
“We’ll think of something,” Hilda said. “What would you like to have for breakfast?”
“A glass of milk and a sweet roll would be fine.”
“Well, I can provide that,” Hilda said, standing and walking to the kitchen. “Evan drinks coffee and eats a pastry of some kind before he goes to the barn. I have a big breakfast ready for him when he finishes the work. You can eat a little now and then eat with him. How does that sound?”
“Fine. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not just yet, but everyone works around here, so I’ll soon have something for you to do.”
Evan brought the smell of the barn with him when he came into the house, and Wendy wrinkled her nose when she went to the utility room to greet him. She hardly recognized him as the man she loved. He wore stained coveralls and a pair of muddy boots. A wool cap covered his blond curls. When Evan bent to kiss her, his whiskers scratched her face. He seemed like a stranger to her.
In the midst of the pleasure of having Wendy in his home, Evan was aware of the puzzled look on her face, and he guessed the reason for it.
Grinning, he said, “I can’t run a farm looking like a fashion model.” He hung his cap on a wall rack, removed his boots and shrugged out of the coveralls. In his flannel shirt and jeans, he looked more like the man she knew.
Victor trotted into the room, planted his paws on Evan’s chest and barked into his face.
“Hungry, are you?” Evan said. He pushed Victor aside and poured some pet food into a tray and filled the dog’s water bowl.
“Is breakfast ready?” Evan asked.
“Yes. Hurry and wash up. Your mother has a lot of good food ready, and I’m hungry.”
Wendy had watched with interest as Hilda made biscuits from scratch, prepared low-fat bacon on the grill and scrambled several eggs. When Wendy tasted the biscuits spread with blackberry jelly, she couldn’t believe the difference between those biscuits and the ones she’d eaten in restaurants. When she commented on the jelly, Hilda said, “Blackberries grow wild on the farm. I made the jelly last summer.”
When they entered the kitchen, Hilda had already had breakfast. She sat at the table and sipped some coffee.
“Wendy and I have been talking about her clothes,” she said to Evan.
“I should have told her about the different climate, but I’ve been so worried about Daddy, I forgot it. I’m sure you don’t even own heavy clothes,” he said to Wendy.
“That’s true. I’ve never been in a really cold climate before. I knew it would be colder up here, so it’s no big problem. I’ll only be here two weeks.”
“Yes, but there’s no reason for you to be cold while you’re here,” Hilda said. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. My niece moved to Arizona last year, and she left her winter clothes for my girls. But she’s taller than Olivia and Marcy, and although Olivia may grow into them, she can’t wear them now. The clothes are clean and hanging in the closet in garment bags. You’re about Annie’s size, and you’re welcome to use the clothes.”
“That’s a good idea, Mom,” Evan said, pushing back from the table to cross his right leg over his knee. “Wendy, if you can wear one of Annie’s coats and some boots, your other clothes will be fine.”
“They’re all right when I’m in the house, but yesterday at the airport, I thought I’d freeze. I’ll be glad if I can borrow a heavy coat, and I’ll buy a pair of boots. Thanks.”
“My niece had some sweatpants and shirts that will be good for lounging around the house, too,” Hilda said. “I’ll lay out some of Annie’s clothes while you’re at the hospital.”
They found Karl Kessler on the fifth floor of Holzer Hospital, resting after a rigorous morning of physical therapy. The stroke had not only left serious paralysis of his left side, but his speech was impaired, too.
A smile creased his face when Evan and Wendy entered his room. Evan elevated his bed to a reclining position and said, “Daddy, this is my friend Wendy.”
Karl extended his right hand and squeezed Wendy’s hand with a firm grip. “Happy…to meet…you,” he said slowly.
&
nbsp; Karl Kessler was a stocky man with powerful shoulders, graying hair and dark blue eyes. Evan didn’t look like him now, but Wendy knew this was how Evan would look when he was Karl’s age. Although she liked Evan’s mother, Wendy was still a bit uneasy around Hilda, but she experienced an instant bond with Karl Kessler. Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
“And I’m happy to meet you, sir. Evan has talked about you a lot.”
Tears glistened in Karl’s eyes, and he said, “I see…why…Evan…likes you…so much.”
As they talked, occasional flashes of pain crossed Karl’s face, but he listened eagerly as Evan told him about the farm activities. Evan reported on how many gallons of milk they’d shipped the day before, how they were herding the livestock into barns and sheds because of the cold snap that was predicted.
Karl asked a few questions in his halting voice. And Evan requested his father’s advice on several business matters relating to the farm. Wendy didn’t have any idea what they were talking about most of the time, but she listened carefully, marveling at the bond of affection and respect between the two men.
During the few times she’d seen her father in her adult years, they’d never had anything to talk about. When he came to see her and took her out to dinner and to buy some new clothes, she didn’t know what to say. What would her life have been like if her parents hadn’t divorced? Would she have had this warm relationship with her parents that the Kesslers took for granted?
When it was obvious that Karl was getting tired, Evan said, “We’ll go now, but Mom is coming back tonight.”
He took his father’s right hand and clasped Wendy’s hands. “Let’s have a prayer together,” he said. While he prayed, Wendy wondered if the Christian faith the Kesslers shared had made them the affectionate family they were.
The more she was around Evan and his family, the more her love for him increased, but so did her doubts. It may have been a mistake for her to come to Ohio. Considering the differences in their backgrounds, she doubted that she could ever feel at home with his family.
All the time they were with Karl, Evan had an up-beat attitude as he laughed and joked with his father about various farm incidents. But when they returned to the truck, Evan leaned his head on the steering wheel, and his shoulders shook with sobs.
“Oh, Evan!” Wendy said, moving close to him and putting her arms around his heaving shoulders.
“I can’t stand to see him that way,” he said. “As long as I can remember, he’s been a forceful, hardworking man. As a child, I thought there wasn’t anything my daddy couldn’t do. He’s always had a strong voice. He sings in a barbershop quartet, and he’s one of the main singers in our church choir. Now he can’t even talk.”
“But he’ll get better,” Wendy said. “I was impressed with the little I saw of the hospital’s rehab department. Looks to me like he’s in good hands.”
Evan lifted his head, and Wendy wiped the tears from his face. He leaned toward her and pulled her close. “Thanks for encouraging me, sweetheart. I’m sorry that you won’t have the opportunity to see our area in normal times. We’re all troubled about Daddy, and according to the local meteorologist, we’re in for some record-breaking winter weather. I’d like for you to have seen us as the happy family we usually are. Christmas is one of our most special seasons, and we always have a good time visiting with our far-flung cousins.”
Wendy thought it might be better that she was seeing the raw side of life with the Kessler family. If she’d visited during the summertime, when all was well with them, she might not have learned the things she needed to know in deciding her future with Evan.
Chapter Seven
Before they returned to the farm, Evan decided to show Wendy the business section of Gallipolis. “This city was settled by wealthy Frenchmen a few years after the Revolutionary War ended,” he explained. “It’s always been a prosperous, active city.”
He drove along First Avenue to point out Our House Tavern, which had hosted two famous visitors in its heyday—Louis Philippe, Duke of Orleans, who later became king of France, and the Marquis de Lafayette. “The building is a museum now,” he said.
“But the Kesslers aren’t French?”
“No,” Evan said, as he pulled into the parking lot of a pizza restaurant. “I’d mentioned before that we’re Germans, but my ancestors were farmers, so they didn’t settle in town.”
The restaurant wasn’t crowded, and the waitress gave them their choice of tables. They chose one close to the window, where Wendy had a glimpse of the Ohio River. They ordered a medium-size pizza and a pitcher of soda. While they ate, Evan explained more about the history of the area, which was also a part of his heritage.
Before they went home, Wendy stopped at a department store and bought an inexpensive pair of boots that would keep her feet warm during her visit. And she could also use them during rainy seasons at home.
True to her word, Hilda had laid out several of her niece’s garments on Wendy’s bed. Wendy felt like she was accepting charity, a no-no according to her mother. Emmalee preferred to do without, rather than to take help when it was offered. Wendy had her share of pride, but when she slipped into the calf-length, down-filled coat that had a hood and deep pockets for her hands, any pride she had about accepting hand-me-down clothes disappeared in a hurry. Wrapped in that coat, she felt as if she were sunning herself on a Florida beach.
She put on a sweat suit and went downstairs to meet Evan, carrying the heavy coat over her arm. Evan was waiting to take her on a tour of the farm.
It took them several hours to check out the six hundred acres that made up Heritage Farm. The dairy barn, with four blue silos beside it, where Evan worked each morning, was located close to the house. Attached to the barn was a milking shed for the cattle and a cooling room to preserve the milk. Several sheds, where the cows could find shelter, were built around the dairy complex.
Evan said that most of their cattle were Holsteins, but that in recent years, they had mixed their herd with Jersey cattle. The majority of the animals were still black and white, but the younger stock showed the mixture of Holstein and Jersey blood.
Evan drove first to the river tract where corn and soya beans were raised. Then they traveled slowly through a creek valley passing many outbuildings, employees’ homes and pasture fields where cattle and horses grazed.
Before they returned to the house, Evan accessed a narrow road that led up a sharp incline through the woods. They came into a clearing, the site of a brick-veneered small house. Shrubbery bordered a wide porch along the entire front of the house. Snowflakes drifted through the barren tree limbs of the oak trees. A small herd of deer grazed in the clearing. Evan watched closely for Wendy’s reaction to the house. He wasn’t disappointed.
She stepped out of the truck and looked at the dwelling, her eyes wide with delight. “Evan,” she said breathlessly. “You’ve saved the best for last. This is a storybook setting. Who lives here?”
“Nobody. It was the first home built by my ancestors. It’s been vacant since my grandmother died three years ago.”
“Let’s go inside,” Wendy said, starting toward the house.
“It’s locked, and I didn’t bring the key. We’ll look at it another time. We need to get back to the house now. Snow and sleet are forecast for tonight, and I need to help our workers put out extra feed for the cattle.”
“Can I help?” she said.
“Maybe, but we’ll have to find some work clothes for you.”
Back in the utility room, Evan said, “You can keep your sweats on, but take off your coat and your new boots.” He rummaged around in a closet until he found a pair of coveralls. “Try these on for size,” he said. “I used to wear them before my final growth spurt. We don’t throw anything away around here.”
He held the coveralls while Wendy stepped into them. “You can roll up the sleeves and legs, and they’ll fit better.”
He took a blue knitted hat
from the closet and put it over her head. She looked so cute in the oversize coveralls that he leaned forward and kissed her lips softly.
He handed a bulky pair of socks to Wendy. “Here are some wool socks, and I’ll help you put on these boots.”
She sat on a bench to put on the socks and he knelt beside her, so thrilled to have her taking an interest in his work that he could have shouted for joy. He slid the boots on her feet and tied them tightly.
“Stand up and see if you can walk around.”
Feeling as if her feet weighed a ton, Wendy took a few experimental steps. Grinning at the difference these clothes made in Wendy’s appearance, Evan said, “You look like a farm girl now. Here’s some stretchy gloves. They’ll fit snug around your fingers.”
As they were leaving the house, Marcy drove up. She took one look at Wendy’s getup and laughed. “Don’t tell me he’s roped you into helping with the chores! You’ll be sorry.”
Wendy quickly defended Evan. “I volunteered to help.”
“How’d your exam go?” Evan asked amicably, but he made up his mind to have a private talk with his sister.
“Okay, I guess. That’s the last one. I’m free until the first of the year. Have fun,” she said, disappearing into the house.
Wendy shivered as the sharp wind pierced the heavy coveralls she wore. This was her first trip into the dairy barn, and Wendy was amazed at the extensive operations. Evan explained that they milked one hundred and fifty cows each day. The milk ran through the automatic milkers to a thousand-gallon cooling tank. Once a day, the milk was pumped directly into a refrigerated truck and hauled to the processing plant.
Wendy and Evan watched as twelve cows entered the milking shed, six on each side of the room. A female employee attached the automatic milkers. The cows ate grain while the milking process continued. When the milkers automatically disconnected from all of the cows, the worker opened two doors. The first cows moved out into the loafing sheds, and another group entered the building to be attached to the milkers.
