But before he finished his sentence, Maisie cut in again. “We’ve talked to the others too,” she said, referring to her other sisters and their families.
Roger nodded. “Katrina and Pauline promised to come when they can, but they couldn’t commit to specific days or times. And Dorothy and Libby both said either they or one of their older children could get here once a week or so to lend a hand—at least until the tobacco starts coming in and everyone’s needed at home.”
“Best of all,” Maisie added, “everybody is willing to start right away, even next week if you’d like.” With a smile, she sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, as if there was nothing further to talk about.
“Oh, my,” Mamm said, as the tears that had formed earlier finally slipped down her cheeks.
“I don’t know what to say,” Daed murmured gratefully, tearing up a little himself.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Roger replied. “Don’t give it another thought. We’ll see to it that Clayton and Mamm are in good hands. I promise.”
Maisie, Joan, and Solomon nodded in agreement with him.
Clayton hadn’t felt this invisible in a long time. No one had even looked his way or so much as intimated he might have something to say about their grandiose plan to swoop in and take over his life. Hot anger rose up inside him, and he knew he had to tamp it down before letting loose his own opinion. As he silently counted seconds to gain control, the others rose from the sofa to embrace Daed and Mamm and assure them all would be well, no matter what happened.
“Wouldn’t anyone like to hear what I have planned?” Clayton said finally, but no one seemed to notice. “I’m speaking here,” he said, louder this time, bridled anger making it sound as if he were pushing his voice past sand.
“What was that, son?” Mamm asked, her grateful tears shining on her face.
When he replied, it was in a shout. “I’m trying to tell you people about my plans!”
Every head in the room now turned toward him. His sisters unwrapped their arms from around their parents and stared at him, wide-eyed.
Daed seemed to be the first to realize what was going on. “Of course, son. Of course we want to hear your ideas.”
He sounded sincere, but Clayton couldn’t keep the anger from his voice as he spat, “I don’t have ‘ideas,’ Daed. I have a plan. And because the clock shop is going to be my business and Mamm’s care my responsibility, I would appreciate being heard.”
Roger and Maisie and Joan and Solomon all retook their seats. Clayton’s outburst nearly echoed from the walls as an awkward silence filled the room.
“We didn’t mean to sound as though you wouldn’t have a say in any of this, Clayton,” Roger offered a moment later, his voice calm but assertive.
“Didn’t you? Because it sure seemed like it to me.”
“Clayton, your sisters and their families have gone to some trouble to come up with a way to help you and Mamm,” his father said gently. “It sounds like a good plan to me.”
“But I don’t need their help. I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it.”
“Why don’t you tell us what your thinking is, then,” Roger said, leaning forward, elbows on knees, acting as if his mind wasn’t already made up.
Clayton cleared his throat, reminding himself to choose his words carefully. “I would be happy to have your boys come by a couple times a week to help with afternoon chores if they wish, and my nieces are welcome to pitch in as well. But I don’t need anyone to do morning chores before the shop opens. I can handle all of that myself. And as to—”
“But there’s a lot to be done in the mornings, Clayton,” Roger said, his voice even and low. “You needn’t wear yourself out before your day at the shop even begins.”
“Ya—” Solomon started to chime in, but Clayton interrupted him.
“I get up at five every day. The shop doesn’t open until nine. We have two horses, two pigs, one cow, and a dozen chickens. Do you really think it takes me four hours to do the morning chores?”
“Clayton,” Daed said his son’s name with a measure of caution in his voice.
Clayton turned to his father. “Daed, you and I together did the chores in an hour. Recently, I’ve been doing them alone in well under two.”
“Ya, but—”
“But what? I could open the shop at ten o’clock instead of nine and we’d lose no business. That would leave me with five hours every morning to take care of this homestead and Mamm. That’s more than enough time, even for a helpless cripple like me.”
“Clayton!” his mother exclaimed.
Her scolding tone was so clear that the two children playing on the floor looked up, as if to make sure it wasn’t them who had done something wrong.
Maisie leaned over the coffee table and gave her brother’s good knee a gentle pat. “Clayton, we’re not saying you’re not capable of doing it all, we’re just saying you shouldn’t have to.”
“Why shouldn’t I have to? You all take care of your homes and businesses on your own. I’m not married and I don’t have children. This home and this shop and Mamm are my only responsibilities.”
Maisie narrowed her eyes. “Daed and Mamm are our parents too. And you’re our brother. Just because we have our own families to care about doesn’t mean we’ve stopped caring about this one.”
“But you’re inventing a need where one doesn’t exist,” he shot back. “I haven’t asked anyone for help.”
“Remember, though,” Mamm said to him, her voice wavering. “We’re not just talking about now. We’re talking about… down the road. In the future.”
Clayton took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reminding himself that this wasn’t easy for any of them.
“Look,” he said, more softly now, “I would appreciate help with the vegetable garden this summer, and actually it would be great if someone else could do the chores here on Saturdays because that’s my busiest day in the shop. But beyond that, there’s nothing else I need. If you people insist on helping, then fine, come help Mamm clean the house or cook or can. But I have everything else under control. I really do.”
Tension hovered in the room, silent now except for the two toddlers giggling together as they played on the floor.
“What about the shop itself?” Roger asked finally.
“What about it?”
“You’re saying you don’t want help in there either? At all?”
“I already have help,” Clayton said, looking to his mother.
She nodded. “That’s true. I’m always here to pitch in on Saturdays and whenever things get busy.”
Clayton met Roger’s eyes with his own. “What I’m saying is that I’ll be the one managing the business, not you and not Solomon. And not any of my sisters.” He looked to Daed. “You are leaving the management of the clock shop solely to me, are you not?” he asked. “That’s what you’ve always told me.”
Daed nodded silently, a mix of emotions on his face.
“And after working with me for all these years, do you honestly think I can’t handle it on my own?”
The look on his father’s face was a mix of confidence and doubt, hope and dread, as though he wanted to fully believe Clayton could handle everything that would come his way, but he couldn’t quite get there.
Saddened, Clayton turned back to the others. “As the future sole proprietor of the shop, I’m saying that if additional staff is needed, I’ll take care of it. I’ll hire who I want to hire.”
Clayton could see a shimmer of hurt in both of his sisters’ faces.
“We’re not trying to run your life, Clayton,” Maisie said. “We’re—”
“Then don’t.”
The conversation came to an end. After a long silence, someone said something about needing to get home and the others piped up in agreement, each of them acting as if there had been no conflict at all between them. As Clayton remained in his chair, the others rose and gathered their things. They left the room in clust
ers until all that remained were Joan and Maisie and their two children, who were still picking up the toys from the floor.
“You know what I think?” Maisie said suddenly, her cheeks flushed and her tone soft but defiant. “I think you already have someone in mind to hire for the store.”
Clayton blinked, feeling as if she had read his mind.
“If he does, Maisie, that’s between him and Daed,” Joan said, looking embarrassed.
“I don’t know,” she replied, her eyes narrowing. “I feel like there’s something Clayton isn’t saying here.” Turning back toward him, she added, “So who is it, bruder? Who are you planning to hire once Daed can no longer help?”
Clayton stared at his oldest sister and considered telling her there was no plan, or it wasn’t any of her business. But she was a shrewd and insistent woman, so finally he forced himself to answer her question in the most neutral, matter-of-fact tone he could muster.
“Miriam Beiler,” he said with a shrug. “She needs a job, and she’s right next door, which would make it convenient for both sides.”
As soon as the words were out there, Joan and Maisie both froze.
“And I’ve been thinking maybe Titus or Obed might like to apprentice with me,” he continued, pretending he hadn’t noticed, “which would help with this too, because as long as someone else is around, there wouldn’t be anything inappropriate about Miriam working with me when Mamm isn’t in the shop.”
Still Clayton’s sisters did not reply, so finally he looked from one to the other, and he was startled at the intensity of emotion showing on their faces.
“That really isn’t a good idea,” Maisie said softly, shaking her head from side to side. “Titus already works with his father, Clayton. And Obed would never want—”
“It’s not our business, Maisie,” Joan whispered, a small wooden horse clutched tightly in her hands. Then she returned her attention to the children, kneeling down and tossing the horse into the basket of toys.
“Think about it, Clayton,” Maisie said, still standing there looking at him. “What good would come of Miriam working for you? You’ll only end up getting hurt.”
He was trying to come up with a reply when Joan spoke. “I think Maisie’s right, Clayton. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Fair?” he exclaimed. “What exactly are you implying?”
Joan exhaled slowly, sad-eyed as she met his gaze.
“You’ve been sweet on Miriam ever since the Beilers moved in next door,” she said softly. “Offering her a job now would only set you up for heartbreak.”
He wanted to respond. He wanted to refute his sisters’ assertions with enough authority that they would realize they were being ridiculous, that he’d never thought of Miriam as anything other than a friend. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he felt the anger inside him slowly shifting into something else, something more like a terrible ache.
When he said nothing in response, Joan returned the toy basket to the closet, and then they both told Clayton they would see him later as they herded the children out the door.
He stayed where he was, listening to the laughter and chatter wafting in from outside as kids were rounded up and horses were strapped in and everyone prepared to go home. He was still sitting there ten minutes later when his mother came back into the room. From the look on her face, she knew exactly what had transpired between him and his sisters. No doubt, Maisie had shared every word.
Embarrassed, he rose, turning his attention toward the window just as the last of the buggies pulled away.
“The Beilers would never agree to Miriam working at the shop,” Mamm said, wringing her hands in front of her.
“Miriam is a grown woman.”
“Even so, they don’t want her spending so much time here… with you. Her mother told me that today, Clayton. They want her to settle down and get married, maybe even to the man who’s having supper at their house tonight.”
Clayton did not look at his mother, but he could tell she was crying as she said words that she surely knew were stinging him to the core. He swallowed the knot that swelled behind his Adam’s apple.
“Miriam won’t marry somebody just because her parents want her to,” he barked.
“And she won’t marry you, son.”
Tears sprang to Clayton’s eyes, but he turned away before his mother could see.
“I know she won’t,” he managed to mutter. Then, without another word, he limped to the stairs, gripped the railing, and began to move slowly upward, step by leaden step.
THIRTEEN
Over the next few days, Clayton found himself wishing he could relive the evening his sisters and their families had come to supper. Though he and Daed still quietly worked side by side in the shop, the silence between them seemed forced now instead of natural. Clayton had apologized the morning after for losing his temper, and Daed had forgiven him, but it was clear his father didn’t know which plan—the family’s or Clayton’s—was the one to go with. This weighed on him.
And it seemed to weigh on Mamm too. She insisted on helping Clayton maneuver the wheelchair from the house to the shop, even though he tried to convince her she didn’t need to. It was almost as if she wanted Clayton to know she wouldn’t be forgotten or pushed to the side as everyone tried to come up with the best course of action for when Daed left this earth at last.
The worst part of the fallout from that evening was finding out that it was no secret among his parents and sisters that Clayton had feelings for Miriam Beiler. He had never so much as hinted to anyone how he felt about his next-door neighbor, and yet apparently they all knew. Even Miriam’s parents had suspicions, or why else would they tell his mother they didn’t want their daughter spending so much time with Clayton? It was as though they were saying they didn’t want a possible suitor seeing Miriam hanging out at the Rabers’ so much and getting the wrong idea.
As if anyone would. Miriam was only a friend. She had never given Clayton any indication she was attracted to him. And why should she? He wasn’t near good enough for someone like her. At least she hadn’t picked up on his feelings for her. Surely if she had, she would have long since said something. Miriam was the most transparent person he knew. If she realized how his heart raced whenever she was near, she would have brought it up. Wouldn’t she?
All of these troubling thoughts stayed on Clayton’s mind—the tension between him and his parents, the way he had left things with his sisters, and the fact that his private thoughts were no longer private. Four days after the disastrous conversation, he was gathering eggs in the violet predawn when Mamm was suddenly in the coop with him, taking the basket from his arm.
“I can do this,” he said quickly. “You don’t want the wood shavings in here to set off your asthma.” Her sensitivities were always worse in the spring and summer.
“I won’t stay but a few minutes. You gather. I’ll hold the basket.”
Clayton reached his hand into a nesting box and pulled out three eggs the color of coffee and cream.
They worked in silence for a few seconds and then his mother spoke. “This situation with you, Daed, and your sisters can’t stretch out indefinitely. We need to come to some sort of agreement. Your father doesn’t want to rush you, but he doesn’t like having unfinished business lying about right now. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Clayton inhaled heavily. He did understand, but he didn’t know how to fix what was amiss.
“They just can’t have that much involvement with the way I do things here,” he said in as gentle a tone as he could produce. He placed two more eggs in the basket. “I know I’m slower at the chores than anyone else is, but I do get them done. And as far as help with the shop, why can’t it just be you and maybe Miriam for a few hours a week? She’s right next door.”
His mother pursed her lips together. “Miriam may not always be next door.”
“I know that. But she is right now. And there wouldn’t be anything inappropriate abo
ut that if I also took on an apprentice.”
“An apprentice?” Mamm’s eyebrows raised, and Clayton realized she hadn’t been in the room when he’d posed the idea to his sisters. At the time, Maisie had made it sound like neither boy would be available or interested, but he had a feeling she was just using that as a reason to keep him and Miriam apart.
“Ya. I was thinking maybe Titus or Obed.”
Mamm looked away for a moment, toward the coop’s open door and the glowing dawn sky. “Even if something like that could be worked out, I’m afraid for you, for what might happen if Miriam were around more often than she already is. It would be more difficult than you think. Do you really want to spend your days listening to her go on and on about her latest suitor? Do you really believe…”
Her voice drifted off. Clayton looked down at the dozen or so eggs in the basket. Some were speckled, some weren’t, but they were all smooth and warm to the touch. Speckled or not, they would all look the same on the inside. And they would all break the same.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this,” she continued, “but I can’t stand by and say nothing. I truly don’t want to see you get hurt, son. There’s already been too much of that in your life.”
They were quiet for a moment. Outside a rooster crowed, slicing the morning air with his age-old salute to daybreak.
“She’s just a friend, Mamm. She’s not in love with me. She’s never been in love with me.” He thrust his hand under the last roosting hen, and the bird cackled at his intrusion. He pulled out an egg and placed it in the basket.
“There’s a young woman up near Ephrata who lost her husband last fall to a terrible fever. She has three young boys to raise, sons who are already a help around the home and farm. They say she’s a very nice person.”
Clayton couldn’t believe his ears. Was his mother actually being as intrusive as Miriam’s parents had been lately with her?
“What are you getting at, Mamm?”
“I hear she’s a nice person,” she said again, as though Clayton had asked her to repeat what she said, not explain it.
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