by Jan Drexler
“Walking with you will help,” Naomi said as she took his hand and stood. “But I don’t think anything will help me forget my problem.”
“Tell me about it. When you talk about it, you’ll feel better.”
Naomi longed to share this burden with him. His shoulders were stronger than hers. “It isn’t my problem, it’s someone else’s. And I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Cap guided her north at the crossroads and they followed the trail toward his farm. “Keeping this secret is making you miserable, but I understand. If you made a promise, you made a promise.” He shifted her hand to the crook of his elbow. “But I can still help you. Just lean on me, and I’ll help you carry your secret, even if I don’t know what it is.”
Naomi stopped and Cap turned toward her. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”
Cap shrugged. “I’m not anyone special.”
“But you are. You are kind and patient. Any other man would have demanded to know why I was crying by the side of the road.”
“That’s because we always want to fix what is wrong.” Cap brushed one knuckle against her cheek, then started walking again, her hand still in his elbow.
“You’re nothing like my brothers.” Naomi bit her lip. What made her say such a thing?
Cap chuckled. “I hope not. Your brothers shouldn’t have the feelings for you that I do.”
A warm glow started in Naomi’s stomach and spread, forcing her to smile. “What kinds of feelings are those?”
He glanced down at her and shook his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to tell you yet.”
Cap pulled her closer as they walked. The sun was beginning to dip toward the west. The afternoon was wearing on.
“Would you like—” Cap stopped.
“What?”
He shrugged, not looking at her. “I thought maybe on Sunday, you and I could go for a picnic.”
“Just the two of us?”
“Davey too, of course.”
Naomi felt a little stab of disappointment that had nothing to do with Davey. Of course he would come on the picnic, but this walk with just the two of them was special. She wanted nothing more right now than to spend more time with Cap. Alone with him. She felt her face heating with a blush of embarrassment. “Of course Davey should come.”
“If you pack a lunch for us, I’ll plan where to go.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Cap stopped and turned her toward him. They had reached his farm, and her home was just through the woods. He looked into her eyes and ran his thumb along her cheek.
“So am I.” He smiled, then reached down and kissed her, soft and warm, on the cheek that was already burning from his touch. “So am I.”
Davey startled awake. The loft was dark, the house quiet. Only Henry’s heavy breathing told him he wasn’t alone.
No fire. No crashing logs. No screams.
He wiped at his wet cheeks with the edge of his blanket. The dream made him cry. He still felt like crying. He wiped his cheeks again.
In his sleep he had heard Pa yelling. Shoving at him.
“Hide, Davey. In the fireplace. Hide!”
Pa spoke in English, like Crow Flies. Davey reached up to the shelf above his bed and took the stone in his hand. Crow Flies had been right. When he held the stone, he remembered his friend.
A flicker of the dream came back. The glowing coals in the fireplace that had hurt his arm. And then Ma and Pa were gone. And baby Pru. The walls fell and covered them and Davey was left alone.
Davey rubbed at the stone, feeling the tiny raised ridges. He remembered Crow Flies, his wrinkled brown face, the crinkles around his dark brown eyes when he smiled.
Putting the stone back on the shelf, Davey sat up. A glow of starlight came in the windows at the ends of the loft. Davey went to the chest. His chest. After Memmi closed it again on his birthday, he asked if he could keep it in the loft.
He opened it and took out the shawl. He scooted across the floor to the window, where the starlight made the shawl glow with soft whiteness. He held it to his cheek, then buried his nose in the knitted wool and took a deep breath. The familiar scents washed over him. A song. A gentle voice.
Ma.
Davey kept his face buried in the shawl, and as he breathed more memories came. Blue eyes, and a smile as loving as Memmi’s. Baby Pru pushing her tongue out and waving her hands toward him as she lay in her cradle.
The shawl had drawn him when he opened the chest on his birthday, but Memmi’s worried frown kept him from speaking about it. When he was alone, though, he could breathe in Ma’s scent, and the memories came. It was like the memory stone Crow Flies had given him. He breathed in again.
He woke again when he heard Grossdatti’s footsteps on the kitchen floor. The starlight had faded while he slept, curled on the planks beside his bed, his head pillowed on the shawl.
“Gut Morgen, boys.” Grossdatti’s call came up the loft ladder. “Time to get up.”
Davey scrambled to the chest and shut the shawl in before Henry sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes.
“Get going, Davey,” Henry said. He stood and pulled his pants on, then ran his fingers through his hair the way he did every morning. “Time for chores.”
As Davey fed the chickens, gathered eggs, and pumped water into the troughs for the animals, he thought about his dream.
Pushing the pump handle down made his arms ache. He rolled up his sleeve and looked at the scar. Pink flesh in the shape of a pig. He rubbed it with a finger. Smooth and tight. Memmi had told him it was from the burn on his arm when he was little.
Memmi came out on the porch to ring the bell for breakfast and Davey started pumping again. The trough had to be filled before he went in. Animals before people, Grossdatti always said. The animals were helpless and couldn’t pump their own water. They relied on Davey to give them their water. He pumped harder.
If he talked to Memmi about his dream, it would make her sad. When they opened his chest on his birthday, he had seen the tired look in her eyes.
He finished pumping and followed Henry into the house. Could he talk to Henry? Davey watched the tall back and long legs of his uncle. Henry would say he was too busy.
Crow Flies would understand. He would listen to Davey the same way he listened to the birdsongs in the morning. He would listen, and nod his head. And then he would tell Davey what he needed to know. He would tell him where Ma and Pa had gone. He would tell him how to find them. But Crow Flies wasn’t here, either.
Eggs, bacon, and oatmeal for breakfast. Davey poured cream over his cereal and sweetened it with honey. He stirred until the cream and honey disappeared and then took the first bite.
“Are you feeling all right, Davey?” Memmi frowned at him.
Davey nodded, his mouth full.
“You’re never this quiet at the table.”
“Leave him be.” Grossmutti put another slice of bacon on his plate. “Growing boys need to eat.”
Grossdatti started the prayer before Davey was done chewing his bacon, but he knelt beside his chair and closed his eyes. The prayer went on. Davey chewed, then swallowed. The bacon was salty and smoky. Maybe he could have another piece after the prayer.
After the prayer he would skim the cream from the milk, and then he was done with chores. He could go see Jethro. Could he tell Jacob about his dream?
Ne. When he was there yesterday, Jacob looked sad. He didn’t want to talk.
Cap. He would go to Cap’s.
He waited for Grossdatti’s “Amen.” When it came, he peeked at the bacon platter. One piece left. He grabbed it and ran out the door.
When he had put the milk and cream in the kitchen, Memmi was in the garden, pulling weeds. If he asked her if he could go see Cap, she would make him help her weed the garden instead. Davey chewed his lip. If he didn’t ask her, he would get in trouble.
He looked around the barnyard. No one else was around. If Memmi didn’t see him, he could run throug
h the woods—
Davey shook his head. Cap said that good boys ask. He ran to the edge of the garden, and Memmi looked up from the weeds.
“Are you done with the milk already?” She had been crying.
“Ja. All done.” He scuffed his toe in the dirt at the edge of the garden. “Can I go see Cap?”
Memmi sat back on her heels and smiled, even though her eyes were still wet with tears. “You like Cap, don’t you?”
Davey grinned. “For sure. He knows everything, and he lets me help him work.”
“Go ahead, but be home for dinner.” He turned and ran toward the trail through the woods, but Memmi called after him. “Tell Cap to come for dinner too.”
The trail was shaded and cool. Davey ran, his feet pounded on the packed dirt. When he got to the clearing, he ran to the garden where Cap was working, just like Memmi had been doing in theirs.
“Hey.” He dropped down on a stump, breathing hard. He had run so fast he had gotten a stitch in his side.
Cap looked up with a smile. “Hey, yourself.”
“Can I help you?”
“For sure.” Cap pointed to the row of beans next to his. “You know how to weed beans, don’t you?”
Davey took the stick and scratched at the weeds growing among the bean plants.
“What brings you over here this morning? Don’t you have weeds in your garden?”
“I want to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
Cap kept on weeding, but Davey stopped and watched Cap’s face. “Where did my ma and pa go?”
Cap stopped digging at the weeds and straightened up. “You mean your first ma and pa?”
Davey nodded. “They are gone. Memmi says they died. But where are they?”
Cap stepped across the young plants to a stump at the edge of the garden and sat down. “Why do you want to know?”
Davey sat on the grass next to Cap’s foot. He pulled at a long grass shoot and stuck the soft end in his mouth to taste the sweet flavor.
“I want to see them.” Davey blinked at the tears filling his eyes. “I miss them, and I want to see them.”
“I thought you didn’t remember them.”
“I had a dream. Ma’s shawl smells like her, and then I had a dream about her.” Cap nodded, just like Crow Flies would, and Davey leaned close to his knee. “It smells like Ma. When I smell it, I can see her, and Pa, and baby Pru. And I remember them.”
Cap ran a hand over his beard and looked toward the cabin. “You can’t go see them, Davey. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because when someone dies, we can’t see them again. They’re someplace else.” Cap’s Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he swallowed. “If they know God, and believe in Jesus, then they are in the Blessed Land.”
“How do I get there?”
“You don’t go there until you die.”
Chickens died when you cut their heads off. And cows died when Grossdatti butchered them. People died when they got old. “Do chickens go to the Blessed Land?”
Cap smiled. “I’m not sure, but I know people do.”
Davey stood up and went back to the weeds. “I’ll wait until I’m old then.” He pulled up a clump of grass, roots and all. “I still miss them, though.”
“Ja.” Cap joined him and dug with his stick. “That’s part of living. We miss people when they die.”
“Did your little boy die?”
Cap nodded. “And my wife.”
“So little boys and memmies die?”
“Sometimes. But we don’t have to worry about that. God knows who will die and when, and he takes care of us.”
Davey felt the truth of that. He didn’t have to worry about dying. He pulled out another weed. “Why are there weeds?”
Cap squatted down next to him. “That is the question of a lifetime, and I don’t have an answer for you. Weeds are just part of life.”
Davey pulled at a dandelion. “I wish there weren’t so many of them.”
Cap reached out and tousled his hair. “For sure.”
17
Memmi, come on.” Davey pulled at Naomi’s hand. “Cap said he would be here after chores.”
“He won’t go anywhere without us and the food.” Naomi turned Davey toward the door. “Why don’t you run down the trail and meet him?”
Davey was out the door and gone before Naomi finished the sentence. She turned back to the picnic dinner she was preparing. She put a package of cold fried chicken into the basket next to a bottle of water, fresh and cold from the well. Vegetables from the garden followed, along with some boiled eggs and a paper packet of salt. On top of everything else, she put in a loaf of bread from yesterday’s baking, but the pie wouldn’t fit anywhere.
Mamm smiled as she watched the process. “You’ll have to wrap the pie in a towel and carry it separate.”
“That’s the only way, I guess.” Naomi took a clean kitchen towel and wrapped it loosely over the pie.
“Where are you going for this picnic?”
“I have no idea. Cap said he had a place in mind.”
Mamm poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “You enjoy spending time with Cap.”
It wasn’t a question. “Ja, I do. He’s good with Davey, and the two of them get along well.”
Mamm tapped the table across from her and pointed to the seat. Naomi sat.
“But what about you? He’s a nice man, ja? A good man. He would make a good husband for you.”
Naomi laughed. “I don’t think he’s looking for a wife.”
Mamm raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her coffee.
“He’s still suffering the heartache of losing his first wife.” Naomi shook her head. “He isn’t looking for another. And certainly not here.”
“Why not?”
Naomi glanced out the door, hoping Cap’s appearance would rescue her from this discussion, but the yard was empty. “You’re right. He is a nice man, and he’s becoming a good friend. But I’ve faced the truth. No man will want me for a wife, not with Davey along too.”
Mamm leaned closer. “You can’t use Davey as an excuse. You’ve done that long enough.”
Naomi felt her face redden.
“Why wouldn’t any man want you for a wife?”
“You know more than anyone.”
Mamm grasped her hand. “Your cast eye doesn’t make you any less loving or capable. It doesn’t make you any less of a woman.” She tugged at Naomi’s hand until Naomi looked at her. “Has Cap ever said anything about it? Does he treat you any less because of it?”
Naomi shook her head. Cap had never been anything but kind. “He says he doesn’t notice it, but I know the truth. What people say and what they really think are two different things.”
“That’s only in your mind. You are a beautiful, loving woman.”
A movement in the yard caught Naomi’s attention. Cap and Davey were walking toward the house together, deep in conversation. The sight of the two of them squeezed her heart. “But does Cap think so?”
Mamm nodded. “Who did he ask to go on a picnic?”
Davey’s footsteps rang on the back porch and he burst in the door. “Memmi, Cap is here. Is the picnic ready? He says we have to walk and walk and walk.”
Naomi smiled her thanks to Mamm and took the pie in one hand and the basket in the other.
“I’ll carry that.” Cap stood in the door, reaching for the basket. He nodded toward Mamm. “How are you today, Lydia?”
“Very well, denki. Enjoy your picnic.”
Davey ran toward the road as Naomi fell in step beside Cap. With only the pie to carry, her burden was light. Cap was the one carrying the heavy basket.
“I hope we don’t have too far to go. I’m afraid I packed the basket too full.”
Cap grinned at her. “Far enough. It’s a surprise for Davey, and a place I think you’ll like too. I found it when I was hunting one day.”
After nearly an hour’s walk
along a trail that followed the river, Naomi heard a soft roar, like the sound of wind through a stand of pines.
“I know this place!” Davey said. He had run ahead and come back. “This is where Crow Flies camped. I remember the waterfall.”
Naomi’s feet halted on the trail. She had been following behind Cap, and he didn’t notice. She glanced at the calm stream next to the trail. Davey had come this far, carried by the flooded river that day?
She hurried to catch up to Cap. “Did you search this far for him, when he was lost?”
Cap shook his head. “This is farther than any of us thought he might have been carried by the river. If Crow Flies hadn’t been by the stream and happened to see him—” His voice was rough. “God was watching out for him that day.”
Naomi pressed her lips together, but couldn’t keep still. “If God had been watching out for him, he wouldn’t have gotten lost to begin with.”
Cap stopped and grasped her hand. “We don’t know the full extent of God’s plans. Davey is all right, and we have God and Crow Flies to thank.”
She nodded. It wouldn’t do to argue with Cap, not when things were going so well between them, and especially on a Sunday.
The waterfall was low and melodious as the river flowed down the gentle drop. Rocks split the water’s surface and made a picturesque scene. Cap carried the basket to an open meadow of long grass and set it down.
“Look, Davey.” He pointed to an area where the grass was pressed down against the earth. “Here’s where some deer slept last night. Can you find any hoofprints?”
While Davey and Cap followed the deer trail, Naomi spread the quilt she had brought on the soft grass and sat down, glad to rest her feet. She had the picnic unwrapped and waiting when Davey ran up to her.
“I found Crow Flies’ camp, but he isn’t there.”
Cap sat on the edge of the blanket, opposite Naomi. “You know Crow Flies said he was going home for the summer, and he will come back in the autumn.”
Davey’s shoulders slumped. “This is his home. He is supposed to be here.”
Naomi heard the threatening tears in his voice and reached for him. “You must have misunderstood. He went to Michigan to be with the rest of his family.”
