Look Out, Lancaster County

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  “It’s nice to stay home from school today,” Jacob said as he placed the checkerboard on the folding table in the living room. “This will be snow much fun!”

  “Ha!” Rachel wrinkled her nose. “Very funny.”

  Jacob handed her the red checker pieces, and he took the black ones. “You can go first.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Said so, didn’t I?”

  Rachel made her first move and leaned back in her chair as she waited for Jacob to take his turn. “I hope the storm doesn’t last too long. It’s fun to be out of school for a day, but I wouldn’t want to be cooped up in the house for too long.”

  “I’m sure the storm won’t last forever.” Jacob moved his checker piece. “You need to learn to be more patient.”

  Rachel didn’t answer. Her mind was on the game, and how she hoped to win this time. She slid a red checker to the next square. “Your turn, Jacob.”

  “I know it’s my turn. I’m thinking.”

  “Well, don’t think too long. I don’t have all day.”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “No, I’m not.” Rachel shivered and rubbed her hands over her arms. “Brr … even with a fire in the fireplace, this room seems awfully chilly.”

  “That’s because it’s cold outside.” Jacob moved his checker piece. “Your turn.”

  “If it weren’t for snow, I wouldn’t have landed in the creek when I went sledding a few weeks ago,” Rachel grumbled as she moved another checker piece. “I hate the snow!”

  “You hate the snow? Since when?”

  “I hate it when I have to stay inside and can’t play in it.”

  “Mom says we should never hate anything,” Jacob said.

  “We’re not supposed to hate anyone, not anything,”

  Rachel corrected.

  Jacob stared at Rachel. “Now how did the girl who flunked her history test a few weeks ago get to be so schmaert?”

  “I’ve always been smart. I just don’t like history.”

  “Are you saying you hate history?”

  “No, I’m saying I don’t like history.”

  “Whatever.” Jacob gestured to the checkerboard. “Are you gonna move or not?”

  “It’s not my turn—it’s yours.”

  A blank expression crossed Jacob’s face, and Rachel gritted her teeth. Finally, Jacob picked up a black checker piece and—click, click, click—he jumped three of Rachel’s red pieces.

  “Now who likes to be in control?” she muttered as she took her turn.

  “What was that?”

  “Oh nothing.”

  “The only bad part about this blizzard,” Jacob said, changing the subject back to the weather, “is that I won’t be able to go to town and buy a new whistle for Buddy.”

  Buddy. Rachel frowned. Did they have to spoil the day by talking about that mutt?

  “You still don’t like Buddy, do you?” Jacob asked.

  She shrugged. “He never listens to me, and he always chases my cat.”

  “I’ll train him—you’ll see. As soon as the snow lets up and Pap goes to town, I’ll get that whistle. Then once I train Buddy, I’m sure he’ll stop chasing Cuddles.”

  Rachel wasn’t convinced that blowing a whistle could make a dog come to someone or stop running. “We’ll have to wait and see how it goes,” she muttered.

  As the game continued, Rachel became more agitated and impatient with Jacob. He took forever to make a move, and since he was obviously winning, she wanted the game to be over. With an exasperated sigh, she reached across the board, picked up one of Jacob’s black checker pieces and jumped four of her red pieces. “There!” she announced. “You win the game!”

  Chapter 7

  Grandpa’s Secret

  I am so bored. There’s nothing fun to do,” Rachel complained as she and Jacob sat at the kitchen table drinking the hot chocolate Mom fixed before she went to her room to take a nap. Grandpa was in his room resting, too. Pap and Henry had gone to the buggy shed to repair a broken wheel.

  Jacob wrinkled his forehead. “I can’t believe school’s already been closed for three days on account of the snow.”

  “The last time I looked out the window, the snow had stopped and the wind wasn’t howling so much,” Rachel said. “Maybe tomorrow school will be open again.”

  “I hope so.” Jacob poked at the marshmallow floating on top of his cup. “Maybe we could play a game.”

  Rachel groaned. “Not checkers, please!”

  He shook his head. “We could work on a puzzle.”

  “That takes too much time, and I never can find any of the end pieces.”

  “Then let’s play hide-and-seek.”

  Rachel blew on her hot chocolate. “That would mean we’d have to run around the house looking for hiding places, which is not a good idea.” She glanced at Grandpa’s bedroom door down the hall. “We’ll be in trouble if we wake Grandpa. We wouldn’t want to wake Mom, either.”

  “That’s true,” Jacob agreed. “Mom needs her rest because she’s expecting a boppli. Grandpa’s old, so he needs his rest, too.”

  “Grandpa’s not old,” Rachel said with a shake of her head. “And don’t you go saying he’s going to die soon, either, because—”

  Jacob held up his hand. “Who said anything about dying? I was only saying that Grandpa needs more rest because he’s … Oh, never mind.”

  Rachel figured Jacob was just looking for an argument, so she changed the subject. “What other games could we play?”

  Jacob tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. “Let’s see … We could play Sorry.”

  Rachel shook her head. “You always cheat.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do so.”

  “All right,” Jacob said, “you choose a game.”

  “How about Scrabble?” Rachel suggested.

  “No way! You always win!”

  “That’s because I’m a good speller.”

  “Jah, you’re one of the best spellers in our school. Not like me,” Jacob mumbled. “I can barely spell my name.”

  Rachel poked Jacob’s arm. “That’s not so, and you know it.”

  He scooted his chair away from the table. “I still think we should play hide-and-seek.”

  “I told you before, we can’t play that in the house.” Rachel shook her head. “And we can’t play it outside because it’s too cold.”

  “How about the barn?” Jacob asked hopefully. “There are lots of good places to hide in Pap’s barn.”

  “You’re right!” Rachel jumped up and grabbed her jacket from the wall peg. “The barn will be a great place to play hide-and-seek!”

  “Do you want to hide first or should I?” Jacob asked Rachel when they entered the barn.

  “I guess I will.” Rachel glanced around. “Where’s Buddy? I don’t want to hide near him.”

  “Buddy’s a nice dog,” Jacob said. “And he really does like you, Rachel.”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Jah, he does. Why do you think he likes to jump up and lick your face?”

  Rachel scrunched up her nose. “It’s so ekelhaft [disgusting] when he does that!”

  “I’ve been working with him, and I think he’s getting better.”

  “Humph! He still chases Cuddles.”

  Jacob heaved a sigh. “I know. I’ve tried feeding them together, but Buddy eats Cuddles’s food, and then she hisses and swipes at his tail.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t like him.”

  “She will someday—hopefully after I buy Buddy a new whistle and train him.”

  Rachel grunted. “We’ll see about that.”

  “So, are we gonna play hide-and-seek or not?” Jacob asked.

  “I suppose so … As long as your dog doesn’t bark and give away my hiding place.”

  “I put Buddy in the empty horse stall after I took him for a walk this morning.”

  “I’ll bet it was hard trying to walk him in the s
now.” Rachel thought about the day Buddy had dragged her facedown in the freezing snow.

  “It wasn’t so bad.” Jacob motioned to the rope hanging from the loft overhead. “I think I’ll see if I can hang upside down on that while I count to one hundred and you look for a good place to hide.”

  Rachel looked up at the rope. Then she looked at Jacob and shook her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m not.” Jacob scampered up the ladder leading to the hayloft, grabbed the rope, and swung out over the pile of hay near Rachel. “Yippee! This is snow

  much fun!” he shouted. “Maybe I’ll forget about playing hide-and-seek and swing on the rope.”

  Rachel planted her hands on her hips and scowled. “What am I supposed to do while you’re swinging?”

  “You can play with your cat.” Jacob made another pass near Rachel, and as his feet touched the hayloft again, he called, “But that might be hard to do because she’s up here sleeping!”

  Rachel grunted. “Jacob Yoder, come down here right now! You promised we could play hide-and-seek, and you should never go back on a promise.”

  “I didn’t promise; I just suggested it.” He peered at her with a silly grin.

  “Fine then—don’t play!” Rachel folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip. “See if I care.”

  “Oh, all right, but I’m going to start counting from here.” Still clinging to the rope, Jacob flipped upside down. His face turned crimson from the blood that had rushed to his head.

  Rachel rolled her eyes toward the roof of the barn. “Now who’s a bensel?”

  “You are, little sister!” Jacob closed his eyes. “I’m starting to count now, so you’d better get going. One … two … three …”

  Rachel scampered off in search of the best place to hide. Should I hide in the loft? No, Jacob will hear me climb the ladder. Should I hide in the empty stall? No way! Buddy’s in there, and he’ll bark and give me away.

  Rachel spotted several bales of hay stacked in one corner. That looks like a good place to hide! She tiptoed across the floor and slipped behind them. Now she only had to wait for Jacob to find her.

  Jacob finally quit counting, and Rachel tried to be as still as possible. She wondered how long it would take him to discover her hiding place.

  Several minutes went by but no sign of Jacob. She didn’t hear him walking anywhere, either.

  More time passed. Still no Jacob.

  Rachel tapped her foot impatiently. What could be keeping him?

  She twirled her finger around the ties on her kapp [cap] and yawned. Why hasn’t he found me yet? What is taking him so long?

  Rachel bit the end of her nail. If he doesn’t find me soon, I won’t play this game anymore.

  Several more minutes passed, and Rachel decided she had waited long enough. She slipped out from behind the bales of hay and stood in the middle of the room.

  Whoosh! Jacob swept past her, still hanging onto the rope. This time he was right side up.

  “Rachel! What are you doing out here?” he hollered. “You’re supposed to be hiding.”

  “I was hiding, but I got tired of waiting.” She clucked her tongue, the way Mom often did. “You’re slower than sticky melassich, and you were supposed to be looking for me, not swinging on that rope!”

  “I’m not slower than molasses. I just wanted to give you plenty of time to hide.” Jacob let go of the rope and dropped into the mound of hay below. “You, little bensel, are just too impatient!”

  Rachel opened her mouth to defend herself, but Pap stepped into the barn and asked Jacob to help him and Henry clean the horses’ stalls.

  With shoulders slumped and head down, Jacob headed for the stalls.

  I guess Jacob’s not having such a good time being out of school, either, Rachel thought as she sat on a stool near the woodstove. She sat with her chin cupped in her hand, thinking about how bored she was and how much she missed school.

  Rachel swiveled on the stool and looked at the rope hanging from the rafters. Maybe I should hang upside down like Jacob did. She shook her head. I guess that wouldn’t be a good idea since I’m wearing a dress.

  Whoosh! A rush of cold air whipped against Rachel’s legs as the barn door opened and Grandpa stepped in.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked, joining Rachel in front of the stove.

  “Sitting. Thinking.” She folded her arms so she wouldn’t be tempted to bite another fingernail. It was a bad habit, Mom had told her often. “Trying to not be bored.”

  “I have an idea.” Grandpa’s bushy gray eyebrows jiggled as he rubbed his hands.

  “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t we blow some bubbles?”

  Rachel made a sweeping gesture of the barn with her hand. “Here?”

  He nodded. “When I was a buwe [boy] and wanted something fun to do, I got out my bubble wand and made some remarkable bubbles.”

  “What’s so remarkable about blowing bubbles?” Rachel had a bubble wand Pap had made for her birthday last year, but none of her bubbles had been remarkable.

  Grandpa patted Rachel’s arm. “I’ll be right back with my surprise.”

  Rachel drummed her fingers along the edge of her stool as she waited for Grandpa to return.

  A short time later, Grandpa returned carrying two bubble wands and a bottle of bubble solution. He set the jar on a shelf and opened the lid. He dipped one wand into the liquid and then the other. Slowly, he blew on the first wand until a bubble formed. Then he blew on the other wand, and another bubble formed. Next, he connected the two bubbles and made two more. By the time he was done, he had a chain of bubbles that looked like a worm.

  Rachel clapped her hands. “Grandpa, you’ve made a wooly worm!”

  Grandpa laughed from deep in his throat. “You’re right, Rachel—just like the wooly worms you took to school last fall.”

  Rachel nodded. “I still can’t believe the way Orlie tried to win the race by pushing his wooly worm up the string with his tongue. That was so ekelhaft.”

  “It was a disgusting thing to do,” Grandpa said with a nod. “You know, Rachel, it’s not good for people to take control of things just to get their way.”

  Rachel stared at the floor as heat erupted on her cheeks. Was Grandpa talking about her? Did he think she liked to take control?

  “Speaking of Orlie,” she said, deciding it might be best to change the subject, “his birthday’s coming soon. I need to think of something to give him for a present.”

  Grandpa blew on the bubbles and sent them sailing across the barn. “Maybe you should pray about it.”

  “I doubt that God would care about something like that.”

  “Nothing is too small for God to care about,” Grandpa said. “You know, there’s something I’ve been praying about, too.”

  “Have you been praying that God will melt the snow?”

  He chuckled. “No, but maybe I should, so you and Jacob can go back to school.”

  “I was hoping it would snow really hard so school would be closed, but now I’m ready to go back,” Rachel admitted.

  “I understand.” Grandpa handed Rachel one of the bubble wands. “Can you keep a secret?”

  She nodded. She felt grown up to know Grandpa would trust her with his secret.

  “The thing that I’ve been praying about is …” Grandpa leaned close to Rachel’s ear and whispered, “I’m thinking about opening a greenhouse in the spring.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Jah. I’ve enjoyed working with flowers ever since I was a boy. Now that I’m older and retired from farming, I want to do something useful with the time I have left on this earth.”

  “I hope you have lots of time left,” Rachel said as a lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t imagine not having Grandpa around.

  He leaned over and hugged Rachel. “Don’t worry. If I take care of myself, I think I’ll be with you a long time.”

  “I like flowers,
too, Grandpa. I wish I could own a greenhouse some day.” Rachel sighed. “But I guess that will never happen.”

  “Maybe when you’re older and out of school,” Grandpa said.

  Rachel shook her head. “I doubt I’ll ever get to do any of the things I really want to do.”

  “Besides owning a greenhouse, what else would you like to do?” he asked.

  “I’d like to go for a ride in a car that has no top. When I told Jacob that, he said the idea was foolishness.”

  “You really want to ride in a convertible?”

  She nodded.

  “Why?”

  “I think it would be fun to be in a car with the top down, going really fast.” Rachel scrunched her nose. “But I don’t know if it’ll ever happen, and I’m getting tired of waiting.”

  “The Bible says in Proverbs 19:11: ‘A man’s wisdom gives him patience.’” Grandpa patted Rachel’s head. “You need more patience, but you also need good judgment.”

  Rachel tipped her head. “What do you mean?”

  “I had an experience once that taught me a lesson I’ll never forget,” he replied.

  “What experience was that?”

  Grandpa leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Rachel wondered if he had fallen asleep.

  “It was a long time ago …” Grandpa said. “I was a teenage boy, like Henry.”

  Rachel realized now why Grandpa had closed his eyes. He was remembering.

  “I wanted to ride a motorcycle. Wanted it more than anything.” Grandpa paused, and his lips twitched. “Our English neighbor, Robert, got a motorcycle for his birthday one year, and Robert promised me a ride.” He paused again.

  Rachel fidgeted with the strings on her kapp. She was anxious for Grandpa to finish his story. “Did you get to take that ride, Grandpa?”

  He opened his eyes and blinked. “I took it all right. Robert gave me the ride of my life.”

  “Did you go really fast?”

  Grandpa nodded. “It was the fastest ride I’ve ever had.” Rachel’s eyes widened, and her heart pounded. “Was it fun?”

  “It was, until we skidded on some gravel and the motorcycle tipped over.” Grandpa’s forehead wrinkled. “Robert broke his leg, but I ended up with some nasty cuts and scrapes.” He pulled up his pant leg and pointed to a finger-length scar.