“Good.” Annie clapped her hands together. “Okay, Buttercup. Your little one is coming. Just keep pushing! That’s all you need to do.”
He grinned, enjoying Annie’s enthusiastic sermon for the cow.
The shiny black calf continued to emerge as Buttercup pushed. Within minutes Jonah saw the full head, the curved body, the long, slick back. “Almost done,” he called to Annie. “Only the rear hooves are left.”
With that, Buttercup lifted her big head, swung round to look behind her, and gave one final push. The black calf was completely out, sprawled on its side in the hay.
Another miracle.
Although Jonah had witnessed this process before, sheer amazement still overcame him at the sight of a new life coming awake in the hay.
Immediately, Buttercup got to her feet. Jonah stepped back as she came around and vigorously licked the calf.
“Such a sweet little thing. And look at how she’s mothering it already,” Annie said, touching his arm. He covered her hand with his, and together they watched as the mother cow very thoroughly licked her newborn calf.
Within a minute or two, the calf was trying to stand on its spindly legs.
“It’s trying to walk,” Annie said.
“They’re quick learners. People, we take a year to learn what they do in three minutes.” As Jonah spoke, the little calf walked and stumbled, moving dangerously close to the edge of the creek.
“Oh, stop him!” Annie cried. “What if he falls over the side?”
“Hey, little one. You don’t want to go down there.” Jonah hustled over to the edge of the ditch, making himself a barrier between the creek and the calf. “That water must be freezing tonight.”
The calf came barreling his way, stumbling against his legs. He caught it firmly and carried it away from the edge, back to its mother.
“It should start on the teat now,” he said, helping the calf find Buttercup’s udder. “It’s good to get them going in the first hour when the sucking instinct is strong, and the early milk is good for them.”
While he helped guide the calf to nurse, Annie fetched the iodine and slathered it onto the cord. Then they both stood back and watched as the calf fed.
“It’s a miracle,” Annie said. “I’ve seen puppies and sheep born, and it’s always a wonder.”
Jonah nodded. “The second miracle tonight.” He slipped an arm around Annie’s shoulders and held her close. “You were the first one.”
“Not me.” She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest. “Gott’s love is the real miracle.”
She was right. With a deep breath, he held her close, thanking the Heavenly Father with all his heart.
After a few minutes of contented feeding, the calf scampered away.
“We need to get this one in a pen before he takes a very cold swim,” Jonah said, lifting the calf into his arms. “We can get them back to the calving shed now, out of the wind. If we take the calf in the cart, Buttercup will follow.”
“How are we going to keep that little one from jumping right out of the cart?” Annie asked.
“I’ll hold him.”
The calf was probably only seventy pounds or so, but the spindly thing was awkward, as if it wasn’t sure if it should nuzzle Jonah or squirm to escape. He lifted the creature into the back of the wagon, climbed up, then cradled it in his arms, making sure the hooves were up so that it couldn’t get traction.
As he sat in the back of the cart, the newborn calf trembling in his arms, Jonah took in the farm and the night sky and the stars with a grateful sigh. The fields sparkled in the moonlight, as if the angels had painted each chopped stubble of hay with glittering silver paint. In this moment, with Annie driving them along the path and this baby creature in his arms, he felt sure that he was the happiest man on Gott’s earth.
A Bible verse came to him, and it seemed a fitting prayer for the moment. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.
Two miracles in one night.
Ya, he was a happy man. And with Annie by his side, he would never want again.
PART FOUR
Season of Love
What manner of man is this?
For he commandeth even the winds and water,
And they obey him.
—LUKE 8:25
FORTY-SIX
The whir of bike engines screamed along the country road as Gabe and Blake headed toward a wooded area near the King farm. After weeks of riding on the course and the trails near Blake’s house, Gabe was getting bored with that area.
“I’d like to try something different,” he’d told Blake earlier as they’d rolled two motorcycles out of Blake’s garage.
“You are, man. That new bike you’re on has great tracking and improved linkage. I think you’re going to like it.”
“Yeah, it looks good.” Gabe looked down at the new bike—a small motorcycle. With practice, he had worked his way up from the smaller bikes, and now he could handle the real thing. “But I was thinking of trying it out down the road, on a new trail.”
“I’m up for something new. What are you thinking of?” Blake had asked. When Gabe told him about the wooded area in the back acres of his family’s farm, Blake had been game.
It was an off Sunday in November, and Gabe had been eager to get away from the farm, where all the talk was about the preparation for the big double wedding. Gabe didn’t mind doing his part, scrubbing down walls or clearing out the barn. But he didn’t get too excited about all the fanfare … the details of how many different types of cookies to bake or where all the horses and carriages would be stored during the wedding.
Today, it was just Blake and him on the bikes. For the last few weeks, Ben had bowed out because of plans with his new girl, Hannah Stoltzfus. Henpecked, that was what Ben was, giving up motorbikes for a girl. Gabe understood the lure, but he was sticking to his choice. He loved Emma, but he wasn’t about to let her make his decisions for him.
Even without Ben, Gabe enjoyed riding with Blake. Sometimes he got a laugh when he passed Amish buggies on the road … like the one up ahead. The couple in the front seat and the little children in the back turned and stared at him. They were probably surprised to see a young man dressed Plain on a bike. And with the red helmet covering his entire head, Gabe was pretty sure they didn’t recognize him.
That made him grin—speeding past the carriage with ease as the folks in the carriage wondered who that Amish wild man was.
It was sort of strange, being on the road but so low to the ground. Still, he loved the speed of the motorbikes. Amish folk just didn’t understand the powerful feeling of having a wailing engine between your legs. Gabe revved the engine and grinned as the bike shot forward.
This was how a man should get around.
When they got to the access road that led to the woods on his family’s property, Gabe signaled to turn right and Blake followed. As they shifted gears, the two bikes let out dual whines that must have cut straight across the open fields to the Kings’ farmhouse. It made Gabe feel like a real daredevil, riding so close to home. He wouldn’t have dared to do this weeks ago, but back then it had been a thrill just to learn to ride the bikes.
Gabe rolled to a stop and pointed out the entrance to two different trails. Blake decided to take the one on the right, and Gabe decided to take the one on the left, knowing both trails met at the edge of the woods in one of the back fields. With a burst of the throttle, he was on his way.
The bright colors that had painted the trees when he had begun riding the motorbikes had given way to bare gray bones. Gray and brown were now the main colors of the woods.
Kind of glum.
Or maybe that was just his mood since Emma had chased him away from her house last weekend without even trying the motorbike. He hadn’t been sure she would go for a ride, but he had expected her to be happy to see him.
He’d been wrong. Emma had been so furious about him bringing the motorbike, he wasn’t sure she’d actua
lly gotten a look at him at all.
All the rain had softened the hard-packed trail, and as Gabe hit a wet patch the rear wheel spun, sending mud splattering behind him. His pants would be pretty dirty by the time the afternoon was over.
Trying to keep out of the soft mud, he kept to the edges of the path, thinking that he probably hadn’t been out in these woods in the last year.
He saw the dark figure coming before he heard it: a tall draft horse with a rider dressed in black. Gabe pulled off the path and waited behind a tree as the horse and rider approached.
An Amish man on a huge horse.
As it galloped closer, he recognized the rider—his brother Adam.
Thunder’s hooves pounded the moist earth, sending dirt spraying in his wake. Adam was a seasoned rider, and he moved as if one with the horse.
Like one iron muscle.
Gabe felt like a small woodland creature as he looked up at the towering horse, the earth vibrating beneath his boots. The horse roared past.
Now, that was true power and strength.
Gabe looked down at the shiny motorcycle, then burst out laughing.
Really? Did he really think a small, whining bike made him look like a strong man? He had started riding bikes because he wanted to feel like a man. He wanted power and speed. The bikes gave him that, along with a sense that he was escaping from his life, tearing away from the strict, orderly rules of the Amish.
But today he had seen his brother moving down the trail with more speed and power than any of these little bikes could summon. There was no match for real horsepower.
He squeezed the handlebar grips, suddenly missing the feel of reins in his hands. His horse was waiting for him, along with his buggy.
This motorcycle, with its bright red paint and shiny silver pipes … this was not what Gott intended for a man. Why hadn’t he seen that before? Still laughing, he turned the bike around on the trail and headed off to meet Blake.
And as he motored down the trail, he remembered the first time Dat had let him drive a buggy. He had been only five or six, coming home from a horse auction. Gabe remembered the excitement that fluttered in his belly when Dat let him hold the reins all by himself.
“Not too tight now. Give him a little slack. There you go.” Dat’s words had eased him through the moment, scary and exciting all at the same time. And Gabe had felt a new awareness of the movement of the buggy, the tug of the horse in front of him, the curve of the road ahead. Lots of things to think about, but he could do it. He wanted to learn to handle the horse like a man.
So many years ago, Dat had started him in the right direction. A knot of emotion grew in Gabe’s throat at the memory of Dat’s patient voice. He wondered how he could have forgotten his first lesson from Dat with a buggy. It worried him that Mamm and Dat were fading from their lives—gone before half the kids in the family had even gotten baptized.
But we’re on the right path, Gabe thought. Mamm and Dat had made sure of that.
By the time he met Blake, Gabe was grateful for the tinted visor, glad to have something to mask the tears in his eyes.
FORTY-SEVEN
There was a chill in the night air, November’s warning that autumn would end soon. Jonah took one last look at the barn and imagined all the folks who would come through here tomorrow. Hundreds of people would pass through these doors, all here to celebrate the weddings of Adam and Remy, Five and Mary.
Reassured that all was ready, he took the kerosene lamp down from its hook and closed the door. A silvery ring glistened around the moon. Up on the road, twin white lights moved slowly. When the car turned down their lane, he was curious for a second, then smiled.
It was probably sister Sadie, back for the wedding.
He quickened his pace, wanting to greet her before she walked into the dark house. The word was that she wouldn’t arrive until morning, so everyone else was asleep.
As the car pulled up on the side of the house, Jonah hurried down the path from the barn. The passenger door opened, and two people stepped out. As the trunk of the little car popped open, Jonah recognized Sadie and her boyfriend, Mike Trueherz.
He held up the lantern. “Hello? Is that my long-lost sister?” he called.
Sadie whirled around, her loose brown hair swinging around her shoulders. “Jonah?” She dropped her satchel and came running to give him a hug.
“What are you doing sneaking back in the middle of the night?”
“I left as soon as my choir practice finished.” She clapped him on the back, then stepped away for a long look. “I’ve missed you! You seem taller.”
“Maybe I’ve grown since the last time you were here.” He turned to nod to Mike. “Will you come in for some hot chocolate?”
“No, thanks, Jonah. I’ve got to get back to Philadelphia.”
“We thought it would be better for Mike to drop me off tonight than in the morning.”
“You’re not staying in Halfway?” Jonah asked Mike. “Aren’t you coming to the wedding?”
“I’ve got classes in the morning. Besides, the church leaders are already upset with Sadie about leaving. We figured it would only make things worse for her to have an English friend at an Amish event.” He handed Sadie a duffel bag from the trunk. “But my father will be here.”
Jonah nodded. “Adam and Mary will be glad to have the doc at the wedding.” All the Kings were grateful for the help Mike’s father had given them over the years.
“I’d better go.” Mike smiled at Sadie. “Give my best to Adam and Mary. I guess things will be changing around here.”
They already have, Jonah thought. Change had swept through the farm like an autumn wind, shifting things around while they were all sleeping. Sadie was now a visitor. Mary had moved her things to the carriage house at the Bielers’, and Remy would be living here after today. Remy would be the one in charge of the baking and the washing. Katie and Sam would go to her with their bumps and bruises.
Ya, the winds of change were blowing through, and Jonah thanked Gott that he’d been touched by changes, too.
Gott had brought him the love of a good woman.
Inside, Jonah added wood to the fire as Sadie took off her coat and settled into a rocking chair. Jonah was curious about the way she’d changed. Not just her Englisher blue jeans and sweater, but her hair, loose and obviously cut. No Amish girl would take scissors to her hair.
“What are you staring at? Do I have food in my teeth?”
“I think you forgot your kapp,” he teased.
“Oh, my hair.” She scraped it back and began to braid it behind her head. “I still have my prayer kapp. I was thinking of wearing it tomorrow, out of respect, but I’m not going to dress Plain. I’ve made my decision, and I’m sticking to it. What do you think?”
“I think the bishop is going to want to give you a scolding whether you wear a kapp or not,” he said. Even though Sadie hadn’t been baptized, Bishop Samuel had made it clear that she was not welcome to drop in and out of the community at will. One of the conditions of her attending the wedding was that she would not be in the bridal party or sit at the dinner table with a baptized member. “Bishop Samuel will be putting the squeeze on for you to come back. He wants you back for good. We all do.”
“I might have to spend most of the reception hiding from Bishop Samuel.” With her hair braided behind her, she looked more like her old self. She scooted her rocker closer to the fire and reached out to squeeze Jonah’s arm. “It’s good to be home, even if it’s just for two days. I have to get back Thursday for afternoon classes.”
“It sounds like you’re very busy in the city.”
“You know me.… I’m not so good at sitting around. But I get a lot of joy out of everything I’m doing. My school hours, and singing with the choir, and being Katherine’s caretaker …”
He listened as she shared some stories of her life in the city. Now that he saw Sadie with her new haircut and clothes, it wasn’t hard to imagine her living among th
e English.
“The strangest thing is the way people have to plan to get their exercise,” Sadie said. “They pay money to go to these little gyms and use machines. If they would just walk instead of riding in their cars, they would save a lot of money.”
He smiled. “How’s Mike’s grandmother?”
“Good. Katherine and Mike are teaching me about good nutrition. I do miss cooking for eleven people. Sometimes, when I go to make mashed potatoes for Mike and Gram, they have to stop me from peeling the whole five-pound bag.”
“Old habits die hard.”
She nodded. “But I reckon I’ll get my chance to do plenty of cooking in a few hours. Mary said the girls are getting up at four in the morning to get the fryers going. Three hundred pounds of chicken takes a while.”
He glanced at the clock. Almost nine-thirty. “You’d better get to bed if you’re going to be up for the cooking.”
“I don’t mind missing sleep for the chance to talk with you. I do miss times like this.”
He caught a glimmer of sadness in her amber eyes. “The little ones still think you might come back.”
She bit her lower lip and looked down at the floor. “I hate to disappoint them, but I’m not coming back. I’m not an Amish girl anymore.”
When she looked up, tears glistened in her round eyes. “I’ve moved on, Jonah, but I’ll always love the family I’ve left behind.”
“And we’ll always love our sister Sadie, no matter what the bishop says.”
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hands. “Look at me, a regular crybaby.”
He looked back toward the fire. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“It’s good to be home, but it’s difficult, too.”
He nodded. “I know the good and bad. You followed your dream, but you miss your home. And we miss you, too. No one mucks out the stables as well as you did.”
She laughed through her tears. “I miss you, but I don’t miss that.”
His mouth twisted sideways at the memory of Sadie shoveling away in the stables, singing her songs to the cows and horses in that beautiful voice Gott gave her. It seemed like yesterday.
A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 28
