The Roll of the Drums

by Jan Drexler

  Anything except what was really on her heart. Because even if he didn’t want to marry her, she couldn’t keep herself from wondering what it would be like to keep her promise to Lovinia. Ruby felt the place where Gideon’s hand had lain on hers, still warm from his touch. Lovinia had said that she wouldn’t find a better husband anywhere.

  Ruby shrugged off that thought. A husband would want to change her to fit his idea of what a good Amish wife should be. No man was going to force her into that mold. She would rather remain independent and single.

  Stepping off the porch into the soft grass, she went to help Mamm and Elizabeth fold the quilts, damp and cool from the evening air.

  The first Sunday in July was a church Sunday. Gideon woke early, the growing discomfort at the thought of attending the meeting keeping him from the restful slumber he needed.

  Mein Herr . . .

  Why was the Good Lord silent? He had confessed to God. His sin was against God, and only God, wasn’t it? But the boy still haunted his dreams, tumbled in the fallen leaves and mud at Gideon’s feet, his face still twisted in agony, his eyes continuing to plead with him.

  Mein Herr . . . forgive me.

  Lovinia’s face, as peaceful as if she was only sleeping, but frozen in the moment of her death, took the boy’s place in his mind.

  Gideon sat up and pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes. His life had become a series of memories he couldn’t erase, with no relief. Layers of regrets as relentless as the tall grass falling before his scythe.

  A woven wool rug covered the floor next to Lovinia’s bed, but some nights that slight padding was not enough. He couldn’t sleep in the bed, even though he knew others wouldn’t understand his reluctance. But that was where Lovinia’s soul had fled. That was where he had held her for the final time. He couldn’t bring himself to take his ease on the soft mattress.

  Rain spattered the windowpane in an early morning shower. They had gotten the hay into the barn in time, working far into the night through the end of the week. Abraham had said a change in the weather was coming, and he had been right. But as Gideon prepared for the day ahead, the rain ended and sunshine broke through the clouds. It looked like they might be able to walk to church between showers.

  Before he finished shaving his upper lip, he heard Ruby’s footsteps on the landing, then her voice as she woke the children.

  “It’s a lovely Sunday morning and time to get up.”

  Daniel’s cry was the first answer he heard.

  “Are you hungry?”

  Gideon smiled as he imagined Daniel burying his face in Ruby’s shoulder.

  “Let’s change your diaper first.” After a short pause, Ruby said, “Ezra, do you need to go to the outhouse?”

  “I used the pot.”

  “He didn’t,” Roseanna said. “He wet the bed again.”

  Even this news didn’t upset Ruby.

  “We’ll change the sheets after you get dressed. But we must hurry now. Mamm has breakfast ready and she’s waiting for the four sleepyheads.”

  “Five, you mean.” Roseanna’s voice was muffled. She must have been pulling her dress over her head. “Daed is still asleep.”

  “If your daed misses his breakfast, then that is his concern.”

  Gideon slipped his shoes on, chuckling. He wouldn’t miss breakfast, not with a stomach as hollow as his felt this morning.

  “Is today a church day?” Sophia asked.

  “For sure it is. We’re going to Samuel’s for Meeting today. It is only across the road, so we don’t have to leave so early.”

  “Will Dorcas be there?”

  “She will. It’s her house.”

  “She’s my friend.” Sophia’s voice held a confident note Gideon had never heard before. “Can I play with Dorcas?”

  “After church and after we eat dinner. I’m sure Dorcas is looking forward to playing with you too.”

  “And William?”

  “William won’t want to play with us,” Roseanna said. “There will be other boys, so he’ll only want to play with them.”

  Gideon opened the bedroom door and looked into the room across the landing. Ruby had managed to get all four children dressed and was braiding the girls’ hair. None of them noticed him as he stood watching Ruby’s deft fingers.

  “Remember, though,” she said as she finished Roseanna’s second braid and turned to Sophia’s fine blonde hair, “church comes first. We must worship the Lord our God with our whole hearts.”

  Roseanna nodded. “And our whole minds, and everything.” She pulled one braid to the front and examined it. “Where did you learn how to braid hair?”

  Ruby started on Sophia’s second braid. “I have sisters, remember? Elizabeth and I used to braid each other’s hair. When Sophia is a little bit older, you can do that.”

  “Can I braid Sophia’s hair tomorrow?”

  “I think that is a wonderful idea.” Ruby finished Sophia’s braid and turned to Ezra, straightening his suspender straps.

  Gideon suddenly realized that he was smiling. He had forgotten the memories of the past as he had witnessed Ruby perform the simple task of helping the children ready themselves for the day. With Ruby around, perhaps someday he could break free of his regrets and look toward the future.

  Ruby rose and lifted Daniel in her arms. “Are we ready for breakfast?”

  “I have to use the pot,” Ezra said, pulling it out from under the bed.

  Gideon stepped onto the landing. “I’ll take you to the outhouse, Ezra.”

  He held out his hand to his son, glancing at Ruby. Her face turned pink as his glance lingered. She was an extraordinary woman, and he could understand why Lovinia had considered her a good friend.

  Then Ezra grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. “Hurry, Daed. Hurry.”

  Gideon wasn’t alone with his thoughts again until silence fell before the service started. Samuel and Anna’s living room and kitchen, one large room after the portable walls had been moved away, were filled with more than one hundred men, women, and children of all ages. The room quieted as the people sat, yielding, waiting. He fought against the pressing memories that roared into the quiet. Why would they not leave him alone?

  He looked across the aisle to the bench where the children were crowded next to Ruby and Lydia. Roseanna wiggled in her seat, her fingers tangled in her apron. Ruby laid her hand on top of Roseanna’s to still the fidgeting, then helped her smooth the white fabric again. Ruby was teaching his daughter Gelassenheit, just as Lovinia would have. Teaching her, and Sophia and Ezra, to yield to the silence, to let go of their busyness, to trust . . .

  A sudden prickling brought Gideon’s hand to his eyes, pressing the corners to keep the tears from spilling out. Abraham had been right. He had been trying to control his life rather than yielding to the Lord.

  Mein Herr, I have forgotten.

  How long had it been since he trusted God and his ways? How long had it been since he had felt that peace of the soul? Gelassenheit didn’t come naturally, it had to be taught. It had to be remembered. It had to be practiced.

  He had been fighting against God’s will for months, ever since he had been forced to haul the army’s supplies from camp to camp, witnessing battle after battle. His time with the army couldn’t have been God’s will. He was in the wrong place. He was outside of God’s will . . .

  But could a man, unless he was rebellious against God, ever be out of the Lord’s will? Could he fall out of his Lord’s sight, through no fault of his own?

  With a sigh, he centered his thoughts, trying to empty himself of the memories, the worries, the grief. He waited, working to release the tight ball of blackness lodged in his breast.

  But even after the first song was announced and the congregation began singing the long, drawn-out syllables of the hymn of prayerful contemplation, the peace he sought still eluded him. The church service dragged on.

  After the first seating of the fellowship meal, when Gideon at
e with the rest of the men, he wandered to the edge of Samuel’s yard while he waited for the children to finish their meal. Across the road was the section of land Abraham had offered to give him. The price, whether Abraham had intended it to be or not, was clear. Take Ruby as his wife, and the land would be his. Through the trees he could see the house. It had been empty since Ruby’s grandparents had passed away and Abraham and Lydia had moved their family to the bigger house across the creek.

  The little house, a log cabin built into the slope on a stone foundation, had been located a dozen yards or so from the road, directly opposite from Samuel’s yard. He looked at the cabin, picturing it in his mind. If he sided the logs with boards, painted it white, and also painted the barn and outbuildings, the place would look new and fresh.

  His mind continued on into the future. As time went by, Ezra and Daniel would join him in his work, while Roseanna and Sophia helped their mother in the house . . .

  His thoughts faltered. For a sweet moment, he had forgotten that this future he was imagining was a future without Lovinia. She would never be part of their lives again.

  He could create a home for his family here in Ohio, but he couldn’t imagine doing it without Lovinia, without his wife. Even with Ruby helping him, her daily presence would only be a shadow of what he and Lovinia had shared.

  “Daed, can I play with Dorcas and the others?” Sophia tugged on his trouser leg, pulling his thoughts back to Sunday afternoon.

  Ruby followed Sophia, carrying Daniel across the yard, with Ezra and Roseanna following behind.

  “For sure, you can play.” He glanced toward the house where the young children were gathering with some older girls to care for them. “We don’t have far to go home, so you’ll be able to play all afternoon.” He smiled into her sky-blue eyes and tugged on the string of her kapp. “Obey Roseanna and help take care of Ezra.”

  Ruby stood beside him as he watched the children run toward their friends. Daniel reached for him and he took the baby from her arms.

  “They are feeling very much at home here,” Ruby said. “Even though they miss their mother, they seem to be happy.”

  “Children get over their hurts quickly.”

  Her eyebrows raised as she turned toward him. “You mustn’t assume that. Roseanna, especially, feels her loss very deeply. It doesn’t always show, but it’s there.”

  “I only meant that they are able to go on. They aren’t held to the past.” Gideon felt the prickle in his eyes again, but he bounced Daniel in his arms, making the baby laugh.

  Ruby watched his face and stepped closer. “I miss Lovinia too, but she wouldn’t want you to grieve too long.” She crossed her arms. “Lovinia loved you and didn’t want you to live in the past. She was afraid you would forget to think of your children and their needs.”

  “Is that what the two of you talked about during your long hours together?”

  “We talked about a lot of things, but mostly about the future.”

  “Her future?”

  Ruby nodded. “She looked forward to heaven, and to the ceasing of her cares and weakness. But she also talked about her dreams for the children’s future, and yours. She told me that she prayed for you every day.”

  “I miss those prayers.”

  Gideon didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until Ruby squeezed his arm. He wasn’t surprised that Lovinia had been thinking of him in her last days, but she had shared more of what was on her heart and mind with Ruby than she had with him. And Ruby . . . As much as he missed Lovinia, he was surprised that a simple, brief touch from Ruby had shown him that he wasn’t alone. Lovinia had given him a gift of a companion in his grief.

  He shifted Daniel to his other arm and nodded toward the section across the road. “I was just considering your idea, to live in that old house. It needs to be cleaned and fixed up. And I think I’d build a new barn closer to the creek, in that flat space between the trees.”

  Ruby stood on her toes, frowning. “I don’t see the place you’re talking about.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder, turning her slightly. “There.” He put his head level with hers to make sure she could see the spot. “On this side of those pine trees.”

  “Now I see it. That’s a good level place, perfect for a new barn. The old log one is beginning to fall apart.”

  She turned her face toward him at the same time he looked at her. Their noses were inches apart. She blushed and stepped back.

  “I’ll talk to Daed and see what he says about giving the land and the house to me, even if we don’t marry. I hate the thought of it being a bride-price.”

  “A bride-price?”

  She laughed a bit and blushed harder. “I read about it somewhere. Some fathers provide money, or land, or livestock to a future husband to make their daughters a more attractive bride. Like a dowry.”

  “Your father has no need to provide such a thing.”

  Her smile disappeared. “I don’t know. No man has ever considered me as a bride. Perhaps Daed should offer a bride-price.”

  Gideon’s stomach clenched at the thought. The promise he had made to Lovinia rang in his memory, but then Ruby’s red hair stirred in the breeze, floating beyond the confines of her kapp. The sunlight glinted on it, turning it to burnished gold.

  “Someone like you shouldn’t require a dowry. You are valuable enough on your own.”

  “It doesn’t seem like anyone else shares your opinion.”

  She dropped her gaze and kicked at a dandelion in the grass. Gideon suddenly saw beyond her confidence and brashness to the lonely girl she kept hidden.

  “Maybe the right person just hasn’t met you yet.”

  Ruby glanced up at him, her vulnerability fading. “Maybe you’re right.” She reached for Daniel. “It’s time for his nap.”

  As he watched Ruby carry the baby toward the house, his gaze slid beyond her and met the stare of Salome, Preacher Amos’s wife. She raised her eyebrows, then turned away.

  Gideon went to help move the tables out onto the grass on the shady side of the house, converting them back into benches so folks could sit in the shade while they visited. He glanced at Salome again, but she was engrossed in a conversation with another woman. Why had she been staring at him?

  7

  As Abraham stepped off the porch, he looked toward the eastern sky. The first Monday of July, and the early morning air already held the promise of a hot, humid day ahead.

  The barn was still dark in the gray hour before dawn, so Abraham lit the lantern. The soft, golden glow reflected off the wood beams and rose into the shadowy heights of the loft.

  Taking a deep breath, Abraham smiled. The fragrance of fresh hay mingled with the scent of the animals. A barn filled with blessings from the Lord and the promise of another year of provision. Harvest was still ahead, but the haymow, filled to the rafters, was the early note of the hymn of praise to come.

  As he went about his chores, feeding, milking, checking the stock, his mind flitted from one thing to another, bringing each one to the feet of God.

  He poured measures of grain into the horses’ feed boxes as he considered the picture in his mind. He had no trouble imagining himself looking no higher than God’s feet, but was it prideful to even think that his prayers reached that far? Not prideful, he decided. Not when God himself had asked his people to bring their prayers to him.

  Moving on to the cows, he sat to milk each one in turn. There were only two, and soon they would be down to one. Millie was aging quickly, and he would not be getting another calf from her. This year’s heifer had nearly been the end of her, and he wouldn’t risk breeding her again. But with their family grown and mostly gone, he and Lydia had no need for more than one cow. He could even give the cow away and get enough milk for the two of them from Samuel.

  Abraham leaned his head against Millie’s flank. Who needed another cow, though? Bett was only five years old, with plenty more years of milking ahead of her. Samuel already had four cows, and
the Stuckey boys each had one or two for their families.

  As the milk drummed into the pail, Gideon’s name came to mind. For sure, Gideon needed a cow for his growing family. Abraham chuckled. And when he married Ruby, there would be even more grandchildren to provide for. He closed his eyes, imagining the red-haired sons and daughters Ruby could be blessed with. His daughter’s reluctance worried him a bit. Ruby might not think she was going to marry Gideon, but it was only a matter of time if it was God’s will. If it wasn’t?

  Abraham aimed a squirt of milk into a waiting cat’s mouth. If it wasn’t God’s will for the two of them to marry, then they wouldn’t. The whole question wasn’t something for him to worry about. He chuckled again as he patted Bett’s flank and picked up the bucket full of warm, frothy milk. That wouldn’t stop him from praying for the marriage to happen, though. He couldn’t think of a better solution to both Gideon’s and Ruby’s problems.

  By the time he left the barn with the pail of milk, the sun was up, and the morning’s coolness was wearing away. Ruby greeted him from the bridge and hurried to meet him even before he reached the porch.

  “I have something to ask you,” she said. Her bright eyes and flushed cheeks were certain signs that this might be an idea he wouldn’t like.

  “What is it?”

  Ruby stood between him and his breakfast, her arms crossed. “It’s about the quarter section of land.”

  Abraham set the milk pail on the ground. “The quarter section I offered to Gideon?”

  She nodded.

  “Does this mean the two of you are planning to marry soon?”

  Ruby blushed. He had never seen her face so pink.

  “We’re not planning on getting married, but Gideon needs a house for his family.”

  “I agree, but what does this have to do with that land?”

  “Gideon said you offered it to him, as a gift.”

  “For sure, I did. A wedding gift for the two of you.”

  She twisted her fingers together. “But since I’m not marrying Gideon, what will happen to the land and the house?”