by Jan Drexler
“I used to all the time when I was a little girl. I’d take lunch out to Daed or help him with the hay.”
They walked along the path that followed the creek.
“Not since then?”
“I think the last time I helped Daed was when I was twelve or fourteen. Then Jonas was old enough to start doing a man’s work, and I stayed at the house.”
“So you haven’t been out here in almost twenty years?”
Ruby stopped just before he led her across the board bridge. “How old do you think I am?”
He tugged her across the bridge after him.
“I don’t know. Maybe thirty years old?”
She laughed. “Why that guess?”
“Because I’m thirty, and we must be close to the same age.”
“I’m only twenty-eight.” She took a deep breath. “An old maid, for sure.”
She glanced at him to see his reaction to her confession, but her age didn’t seem to bother him.
“Lovinia was the same age.” He smiled at her. “No wonder the two of you became good friends so quickly.”
“We talked about that. Our birthdays are even in the same month, so we said we were twin sisters.”
Gideon pulled her hand into the crook of his elbow. Ruby leaned into his arm, enjoying the pleasure of being close. They walked in silence until they reached the end of the fields, where the creek came out of the woods in a narrow spot of rushing water. It bubbled over the rocks in a gorge. To their right, Weaver’s Knob rose above the trees, but Ruby remembered that if they kept following the creek, they would find a small waterfall. She let go of Gideon’s arm and led the way as the trail climbed. When they reached the spot where the water tumbled over a pile of rocks in a gorge, Ruby found a log to sit on, and Gideon sat beside her.
“Look at that,” he said.
Below them, the farm spread through the wide valley with the creek running through the center. Fields on both sides were lush and green with corn and oats. The wheat field held the newly harvested shocks, the grain drying until threshing time. The house and barn stood nearly a mile away, the white of the buildings shining against the deep green of the fields and the woods behind them.
“God has truly blessed your family,” Gideon said. “This is a beautiful place.”
“Daed always says that God blessed us with land, but our faith and a family are more important than dirt and buildings. He always reminds us that our ancestors left their homes in Europe to come here where they could be free to worship God as they were led. We need to remember that they didn’t consider Switzerland to be their home any more than we consider this valley to be our home. We are only temporary lodgers here, he says. Our true home is with our Lord.”
“It makes our problems seem very small when you consider it that way.” Gideon held her hand in both of his.
“Even the problem of the raiders?”
“Even that.”
Ruby leaned against his arm, as if she couldn’t get close enough to him. She missed their talks over coffee in the mornings when it was only the two of them alone in the kitchen.
“Something has changed,” she said after a few moments. “You used to be so worried about soldiers coming into our valley.”
He opened his right hand and rubbed the place where she had removed the splinter. “See that? It is already healing. The swelling is going down and you can barely see where the splinter was.”
She nodded, and he went on.
“I had been carrying a burden of guilt around with me, and it was festering like that splinter. Talking to Abraham a few days ago, I told him . . . confessed my guilt to him. He helped me see that I needed to give that burden to my Lord. It wasn’t mine to carry.” He rubbed his palm again. “Ever since then, I haven’t been afraid of what the soldiers might do to us. I have a feeling that this isn’t done, that they will continue to steal from us, and they might even try to destroy us. But I have confidence that the Lord will take care of us. We can trust in him, no matter what happens.”
Trust in the Lord? Ruby sat up, moving slightly away from Gideon. She had been the one saying those words to Gideon not so long ago, but that was before she had witnessed the raiders’ violent attack.
“It’s hard to trust him when so many terrible things have happened. How do we know everything will turn out the right way?”
“We don’t. At least, we don’t know if things will turn out the way we want them to. I am certain, though, that things will always turn out the way God intends for them to.”
“When Lovinia died? Did God intend for that to happen? And when the raiders stole the horses? Was that what he intended too?”
Gideon leaned on his knees, looking out over the valley.
“I can’t answer those questions, but I do know that whatever has happened that we consider to be evil, God can use for good. Something good will come from the horses being stolen, even though we may never know what that might be.”
“And Lovinia? Can something good come out of her death?”
Gideon sighed, then turned toward her and took both of her hands in his. “The best good that came from her death is that I’m certain she is with our Lord, living without the pain and weakness that plagued her for so long. She is no longer ill and suffering.”
Ruby pulled her lip between her teeth. Gideon was right. She mourned for Lovinia and missed her. But would she want her friend to suffer longer just because she missed her? Not at all.
“Another good thing is that Lovinia gave us a gift before she passed on.” He tightened his hold on her hands. “She gave us each other. She knew we would need to lean on each other and rely on each other as we cared for the children. I think she also knew that we would come to love each other, eventually.”
She risked looking at Gideon. He was watching her, waiting for her reaction.
“Do you think we are learning to love each other?” she asked.
“I think we have become friends. Very good friends. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
His gaze moved from her eyes, to her lips, then to their hands, still clasped together.
“Perhaps we should walk back to the house.” Ruby stood, ignoring the breathless feeling that overwhelmed her. “The boys are surely up from their naps by now.”
“Before we go, I want to do one thing.”
He stood and pulled her up next to him. Then he moved closer, or perhaps she leaned toward him. He lifted her chin with one hand and guided her lips toward his. A gentle brush, then a tentative touch of his mouth on hers. A kiss that was tender, questioning. He pulled away, but he kept his eyes locked on hers.
He released his hold on her and looked into her face. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, because I intend to do it again.”
Ruby’s face burned as she stared at the placket of his shirt. His kiss had been nothing like the bruising, demanding kisses Ned had given her. “I enjoyed it.”
“Will you let me do it again? I feel like a man who has been starving . . .”
Her breath caught as he raised her chin again. She put her arms around his neck and he lowered his mouth to hers. This kiss was also tender, but self-assured. He held her close, pulling her into his arms and resting his chin on her kapp.
“I meant what I said, Ruby. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Do you think you could learn to love me?”
Ruby breathed in his scent and closed her eyes, thinking of the time they had spent together. Thinking of how completely safe she felt in his arms.
“For sure, I think I could.”
16
The week had passed slowly for Levi as he stayed with the Weavers, helping with the chores and cutting hay. When he went back home the next Monday afternoon, Millie was the only one who mentioned that he hadn’t been home.
“Father has been doing your chores for you,” she said, standing on the bottom board of the pasture fence as he brought the cow in for milking.
“Did he ask where I was
?”
“He thought you were off visiting friends or something. He complained a lot.”
Levi tied the cow to the fence rail and grabbed the milking stool and pail he had put by the fence before going out to find the cow.
“I stayed at the Weavers’. Between Abraham recovering and Gideon busy with the farm, I thought they might need help with their chores. That family has been through quite a bit.”
“Gideon isn’t part of their family.” Millie leaned over the fence. “Unless he and Ruby get married. Mother says—”
“Mother is wrong.” Levi didn’t like to interrupt, but he couldn’t listen to the rumor about Gideon and Ruby again. “There is nothing going on between the two of them. If they get married someday, it won’t be because they’re trying to cover up a sin the way Mother and Father did.”
Too late, Levi realized what he said.
“Millie, look, that’s a secret that we’re not supposed to know. Don’t tell anyone, especially Mother and Father.”
“What makes you think I didn’t already know? Mother tells me much more than she ever tells you.”
Levi grasped the top of the fence, opposite Millie. “How long have you known?”
“Since I started going to Singings. Mother wanted me to know how boys—how men are. She didn’t want me to be unaware of what some boys try to get girls to do when they’re alone after dark.”
He hesitated. “Did she say I was to blame for them getting married?”
“Not exactly. She did say things worked out well for them, but it isn’t always that way.”
Levi went back to his stool and started milking. “Are you still seeing Wilmer?”
“Umm-hmm.”
“You must like him.”
“I do. But you won’t tell him, will you?”
“Why not? I’m sure he would want to know.”
“You don’t understand how courting works, do you?” She sighed, exasperated. “If a girl is too quick to let a boy know she likes him, then he doesn’t get to pursue her. It’s better if a boy thinks he has won something in the end. If a girl gives in too easily, he’ll think too much of himself.”
Levi snorted. “Who told you that?”
“Everyone knows it.” Millie leaned over the fence and knocked his hat off, a grin on her face. “Except you. Maybe that’s why you don’t have a girl.”
He grabbed his hat off the ground and frowned at her as she turned her back on him and went into the house. She didn’t know anything about why he didn’t have a girl. The cow turned and looked at him as she chewed her cud.
“You don’t know anything about it either,” he said, and finished the milking.
Over the next few days, Levi kept track of the smoky haze above the trees in their woodlot. It looked like the raiders were still camped there, but Levi hadn’t seen any sign of them in the community. On Tuesday, he walked to Katie’s house to apologize for not making his regular trip to Farmerstown to get the mail. He stopped by the Weavers’ on that trip, then again on Thursday. Abraham seemed to be recovering well.
But in his visits, and when he met a couple other men from the community on the road, Levi began to understand that the folks were unhappy with Father’s actions on Sunday.
“Someone needs to talk to him,” Wilhelm Stuckey had said. “Someone needs to find out what he did after Abraham was shot. No one seems to know, and rumors are ugly.”
On Saturday, nearly two weeks after the raiders’ attack, Levi finally gathered enough courage to ask Father what he had done on the previous Sunday afternoon. Levi had looked for him during the confusion afterward, while Gideon was examining his wound, but Father and Mother were nowhere in the house.
He knocked on Father’s study door.
“Come.” As Levi opened the door, Father swiveled his chair around. “I trust the chores have been done?”
“I finished the chores, and everything is locked up tight.”
Father turned back to his desk. “I’ll check after supper. We don’t want to lose any more of our livestock.”
Levi had expected that. Father had never trusted him to do a job the correct way. “Folks have been talking. I heard them at the Weavers’ house on Sunday and when I stopped by the Stuckeys’ on Tuesday.”
“Hmm?” Father didn’t turn around. “What are they talking about?”
“They are wondering where you went after Abraham was shot. No one saw you after that, and they thought you should have been there.”
“I came home to check on our place. Who knows how much livestock those ruffians had stolen before they reached the Weavers’?”
Levi stepped into the room. “Father, I heard someone say that you left because you were sympathetic to the raiders. That you colluded with them and told them we would all be at Abraham’s place.”
Father’s chair swiveled around again. “Who said that? You know that isn’t true.”
“I know. But this is how rumors get started. It doesn’t help that you have stayed home all week. You haven’t even gone to see how Abraham is doing.”
“You heard those raiders. They threatened to shoot anyone who was out and about.”
“Only if we tried to leave the community to get help.”
“They don’t know where we’re going when we leave here. Besides, someone would tell me if Abraham passed away.”
“That isn’t the point. Folks think you don’t care.” Levi stepped farther into the room. “This isn’t how a minister should act.”
Father pressed his lips together. “And you think you can do better.”
“I know I can’t. But I do know it’s important for you to do something to show the people that you are part of the community.”
Father closed the book he had been writing notes in and put the cork in the mouth of his inkwell. “If the community thinks I don’t care, that I didn’t do anything to prevent this tragedy, then I suppose the only thing I can do is to rectify the situation.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“But it is what you meant.” Father moved him aside and took his coat and hat from the hook on the back of the door. “I will go and talk to the raiders and convince them to return the horses they have stolen.”
Levi grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that. They’ll shoot you just like they shot Abraham.”
Father jerked his elbow out of Levi’s grasp. “You would like that, wouldn’t you, Levi? You’ve been planning to take my place for months. Don’t think I haven’t noticed all the times when you borrowed my books. And when Gideon Fischer came to the area, you and he became awfully close.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing. I just want . . .” Levi faltered. What did he want? “Father, I only want you to be proud of me. I’m not good at farming or working with my hands. But I enjoy reading and studying.” He waved his hand, taking in Father’s desk and shelves of books. “I only wanted . . . to be like you.”
Levi didn’t wait for Father to laugh at him. He didn’t wait for the sickeningly condescending tone when Father derided him. He strode out of the room and out of the house. He would stay with Gideon again tonight, or perhaps with Samuel. Someplace where he wouldn’t have to face his father again.
On Monday morning, Ruby was helping Mamm fix breakfast when Gideon came back to the house. Mamm had just put ham in a skillet to fry when the screen door slammed shut behind him as he strode into the kitchen.
“The horses are back in their stalls!”
Daed put his cup of coffee down on the table with a thump that made the hot liquid slosh from the cup. “They’re back? Are they all right?”
“I didn’t look closely, but I think so.”
Daed rose from his chair. “I have to go look. I want to see them.”
As Ruby picked Daniel up from his chair, Mamm moved the frying pan off the heat, and they all went out to the barn. Roseanna and Sophia ran ahead until Gideon called to them.
“Stay close, girls. Let Abraham go into the barn first.”
Gideon had left the big doors open to the morning air, but inside, the barn was dim. Ruby stopped to let her eyes get used to the light, holding on to Ezra’s hand. She took a deep breath of fresh hay and horses. She loved visiting the barn.
“There they are,” Roseanna said. “Daed was right. The horses are back.”
Mamm stroked Nell’s nose while Daed opened the stall door and walked in to look at Boss.
“He looks in fine shape,” he said, patting the horse’s side. “And Samson and Delilah are here too.”
Ruby asked. “Did the raiders bring them back?”
“I don’t know why they would do that,” Gideon said, patting Boss’s neck.
Daed ran his hand down the horse’s back as if he couldn’t believe he was really there, then leaned on Gideon’s arm as they left the stall. The trip to the barn had taxed his strength.
He sat on a bench he kept near the horses. “Another question is how they got here. If the raiders didn’t return them, then who did?”
“I brought them.” Amos had come into the barn behind them, and his sudden appearance startled Ruby. “I went up to the camp and took them back.”
“That was dangerous,” Gideon said. He stepped closer to Amos. “How did you do it without them seeing you?”
“I was quiet and careful. They didn’t even know I was there.”
“I’m thankful to get them back,” Daed said. “Did you find your own horse too?”
“For sure, I did.” Amos stood with his thumbs hooked in his suspenders. “He’s in his own barn, safe and sound.”
“Why did you take such a risk?” Daed asked.
“I knew you needed them back.” Amos’s face grew red. “And I had heard the rumors. Some folks thought I was to blame for the raiders being here, since they’re camped on my land. I thought if I returned them, that would prove that I had nothing to do with what happened.”
Daed pushed himself to his feet, and Amos took his arm to help him up.
“You didn’t need to risk your life for a few horses,” Daed said. “But I’m glad you’re safe.”
