Phoebe's Gift

by Jerry S. Eicher

  David reached for the soap. “Now that lesson you haven’t learned yet. Amish boys learn how to work for the pure joy of labor. The reward is the open skies, the accomplishment of a task well done, the pleasure of a body honed by hard labor, a soft bed to sleep in for the night, and slumber that leads to sweet dreams.”

  “He didn’t say anything about being a con salesman,” George told Bill.

  “That’s right.” Bill grunted. “Now I know he’s selling us a bill of goods.”

  “Just remember this afternoon,” David said, his voice muffled as he splashed water over his face. “And when you’re sleeping so well tonight, you’ll know it was no con job.”

  “And supper,” Phoebe added in her sweetest voice from the open door. “Food is what David missed.”

  Both boys turned about to face her.

  “Where did she come from?” Bill demanded.

  “This is the kitchen doorway,” Phoebe told him. She opened the door wider. “Supper is on the table.”

  George and Bill both stared.

  “Yah, that’s the final reward,” David said as he wiped his hands on the towel. “A man can eat a whole plate of food after a hard day of work and feel the full satisfaction of his labors.”

  Both George and Bill turned toward David.

  “Next,” David said with a smile. He motioned toward the sink. “You’ll see that I’m right.”

  Phoebe left the mudroom door open while the boys washed. David fell silent as he waited for the two. Phoebe transferred the last dish to the table and took her place. David came in moments later, followed by George and Bill. The two boys took in the food-laden table with quick glances but made no comments.

  “You can sit beside me,” Phoebe told Bill. “And George can sit beside David over there.” Phoebe pointed to the chair near the head of the table.

  David didn’t hesitate as he took his place. She had half expected him to object because this wasn’t his home, but he appeared properly placed, sitting there with a big grin on his face. This was how they would venture into the unknown. David would always be there, and she would be the hostess. There was nothing wrong with that.

  “What is all this food?” George asked with bated breath.

  “That’s best discovered by tasting and not by asking,” David answered. “Some things in life can’t be explained.”

  “But…” Bill fell silent.

  He didn’t appear displeased, though. Why should either of them be unhappy with goot food? Likely this was simply the latest novelty of their first day spent on an Amish farm. How sad, Phoebe thought, that tasty meals were something one should find astonishing. She felt they were indeed blessed beyond measure with the life they lived in the community.

  “Shall we say the blessing?” David suggested.

  He didn’t wait for an answer but bowed his head. Phoebe followed. Neither George nor Bill knew what was expected of them. They simply stared, but Phoene would not say anything. Mrs. Broman could not accuse her of religious instruction at the end of the week, especially if neither of the boys bowed their heads through grace.

  “Our Father which art in heaven,” David prayed out loud, with Phoebe mouthing the familiar words along with him. George and Bill still hadn’t closed their eyes when Phoebe looked up after David said “amen.” The boys didn’t have to join them, but their prayer time at the kitchen table was not negotiable.

  “We say a prayer before we eat every meal,” Phoebe explained. She had allowed the practice to slip at noontime when she had served the sandwiches and cold milk in the barn, but David hadn’t objected. He simply had taken off his hat and briefly bowed his head. Neither George nor Bill had noticed the gesture.

  “We have mashed potatoes and gravy, pot roast, and a tossed salad,” Phoebe informed the boys with her best smile. “Have you ever had a meal like that? And pecan pie. That’s cooling over there on the counter.”

  Both of their gazes went toward the plates, and their eyes grew round.

  “Fall to it,” David commanded, leading the way with a generous helping of mashed potatoes. The steam rose high from his plate as he poured on gravy. “Now for a thick slab of Phoebe’s wheat bread to finish things off, slathered with fresh butter and strawberry jam.” David prepared his piece with a big grin on his face.

  Neither George nor Bill had moved yet.

  “Shall I dish it out for you?” Phoebe offered. The two seemed frozen in place.

  “What is this stuff?” Bill asked, his eyes fixed on the food dishes.

  “You have to taste it to find out,” David teased again.

  “Actually, these were once potatoes,” Phoebe explained. “Those are round things that grow in the ground.” From the looks on their faces, neither of the boys understood. She continued undeterred. “I peeled them, boiled them, and then mashed them in a bowl. After that I added salt and a touch of butter and milk, and this is the result. The accompanying bowl holds gravy, made to add flavor and seasoning to the mashed potatoes. There is meat over here in this dish for protein, and a salad to balance things out. You really have to try this, boys.” She wasn’t getting through to Bill or George, who still hadn’t moved. So she tried David’s angle and dipped out generous portions for them. “You worked all afternoon. You must be hungry.” Phoebe added the gravy, and the warm steam rose into their faces.

  Apparently this did the persuading. George went first, and a smile crept across his face. “This is good, Bill.”

  Bill already had his mouth full and was nodding with delight. Mission accomplished. But who would have thought a battle would be fought on such strange ground?

  “What do you boys usually eat?” Phoebe asked.

  George swallowed before he answered. “Chips, pizza, or hamburgers if we can get them, and sodas sometimes. Breakfast cereal if nothing else.”

  “Moon pies.” Bill’s face lit up. “We had those all last week, and Twinkies the week before.”

  Phoebe hid her disapproval. “No one cooks for you?” From the looks on their faces she shouldn’t have asked the question. “Sorry,” she murmured.

  George tried to smile. “It’s okay. Mom works all the time, and when she doesn’t there’s always something to watch on TV. Which, by the way—what’s on for tonight? Monday night football hasn’t begun, but something good should be playing.”

  Phoebe glanced at David, who cleared his throat. “There is no TV.”

  “No TV?” George stopped chewing.

  “No TV?” Bill repeated. He looked at his brother. “No one told us about that.”

  “As no one told you about mashed potatoes and gravy,” Phoebe chirped. “Life is so much better without TV.”

  Neither of the two appeared convinced. They peered down at their plates as if the potatoes and gravy were the cause of this betrayal.

  “So what do you do all evening?” George finally asked. He glanced up at the kitchen clock. “It’s not even seven o’clock, and the sun’s still up.”

  “It normally is at this time,” David said, but no one laughed. Clearly this was a serious matter for the two boys.

  “We’ll think of something,” Phoebe told them. “You can help me with the dishes, and then we can walk down to David’s place and meet his parents.”

  David loudly cleared his throat.

  “Oh, sorry about that. Change of plans,” Phoebe rushed on. “Perhaps a buggy ride then?”

  Mild interest flashed across their faces but soon vanished.

  “You’ll just have to get used to things,” David said. “You are here for the week, and you’ll see that life is more than video games and Monday night football and…” David stopped, apparently out of breath, or more likely overcome with his own boldness. She had never heard him lecture like this before, and with such authority in his voice.

  “I agree,” she joined in. “The first evening might be a little rough, but the Lord has filled the hours with beautiful things that live all around us. We miss them when we are off in a world of mod
ern technology.”

  David stared at her. He appeared quite impressed with her little speech. Now to place the plan in action. Neither of the boys was convinced in the least. Their faces were quite fallen, with their appetites apparently gone.

  “You should finish your plates,” she told them. “Then there is pecan pie.”

  They hesitated for a moment, as if they would rebel, but George’s fork moved first.

  Bill followed his brother’s example. “Is pecan pie like Twinkies?” he asked.

  “Much better,” she told him. “Much, much better. There is no plastic wrap and no preservatives added. Just freshness straight from my stove to your plate.”

  George’s grin was crooked. “I thought you said there was no TV in the house.”

  “There isn’t. Why do you say that?”

  “You sounded like a commercial,” Bill said. He snapped his fingers. “Which one was that? The—”

  “Some pizza commercial,” George finished. “That last part sounded just like it.”

  Phoebe could feel her face reddening as David grinned from ear to ear. “Well, then. Now let’s talk about something else.”

  “She’s very humble,” David told them in a conspiratorial tone. “She’s also bashful at times.”

  She wanted to bonk David on the head with her fork. He knew better than to tease about such things. TV! The very idea! Phoebe jumped up to grab the pecan pie and cut the pieces. Thankfully, the boys were busy with the last of their food. She slid clean plates toward them and waited while George took the first piece. David could wait as payment for his transgressions. He noticed and grinned even more. She couldn’t help but make a face at him, and she felt her cheeks flush again. David almost laughed out loud. Fortunately, both of the boys were busy with dessert.

  “How is it?” Phoebe asked them, more to distract herself from David’s glances than anything. She liked the man, but he had to stop this teasing.

  “It’s good,” said George.

  “More like heavenly,” Bill added. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”

  Both boys looked at each other and nodded, clearly impressed.

  “I’m glad you like the pie.” She helped herself to a small piece. David had no such compunction. His piece was large, but he had worked outside all day, and men didn’t have to worry about putting on the pounds the way women did. Phoebe made another face at him, but he was deep into his pie and didn’t notice.

  They all savored the delicious dessert in silence, and then Phoebe rose to run the hot water for the dishes. David glanced at her, but she shook her head. There would be no final customary prayer of thanks. Some concessions must be made for the greater good while they kept Englisha children in their home. She wouldn’t be accused of forcing religion down anyone’s throat.

  The evening stretched out in front of them. “You will stay until dark?” she asked David, who had risen to his feet.

  “Come, boys,” David said. “I think I will take you down to our farm after all and show you the sheep. We should find something to keep you busy.”

  He had apparently forgotten that they could help with the dishes, but that hadn’t been a goot idea anyway.

  “Thanks,” she mouthed to David as he led George and Bill out the mudroom door.

  He nodded and smiled. She would tell the boys Grandma’s story when they came back and David left again. Maybe this could become a tradition each new week. She couldn’t sidestep all religion because Grandma’s life was a testament of faith. Afterward, George and Bill would probably be tired and ready for bed. The boys could take showers and do their final unpacking, by which time they should fall asleep. Likely they weren’t used to early bedtimes or rising with the sun, but that would change this week. David would be here right after breakfast to begin the day, and she would be ready.

  Phoebe cleared the table and began to hum a tune. The blessings of the Lord were with them. How could things be otherwise when Grandma’s prayers had been lifted well before her granddaughter had ever dreamed of a pony farm?

  SEVENTEEN

  The following morning David strode quickly up the slight incline of the road toward Grandma Lapp’s farm. Toward the east, the first blush of dawn hung over the Adirondack Mountains. He had been up well before daylight, unable to sleep half the night. He had gulped down a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast and left right after the family’s morning prayers. No one at the Fishers’ house had seemed surprised by his rush to leave. Ruth was also wrapped up in her schoolteaching work. Everyone understood the urgency that came with a new job.

  He had introduced George and Bill to the farm animals when they visited yesterday evening. Daett had been in bed when David returned from dropping off the boys and had remained silent on the subject this morning.

  The heavy weight on David this morning was Phoebe. His steps quickened at the thought of her. What if George and Bill had proven troublesome or rowdy overnight? Though they were young, they were city boys who were probably used to being awake at all hours. In their world, television and video games were likely always at their disposal. The first night spent in the stillness of the old farmhouse could have caused all kinds of disturbances to their routine.

  What if Phoebe hadn’t slept a wink? She might have beaten a path up and down the stairs seeing to the young boys’ insomnia. He should have been there to share the burden, but that wouldn’t have been decent. He had to trust the Lord. Phoebe was able to cope. He should have remembered that last night. Perhaps then he could have slept a few more hours instead of tossing and turning in bed.

  David slowed his walk as the glow of the gas lantern in the kitchen window came into focus and he turned into the driveway. Phoebe was up, but he had expected that. What were George and Bill up to? He couldn’t stop the questions in his mind, and he hurried past the barn and up the front steps. With only a light knock he entered.

  Phoebe’s soft voice called from the kitchen. “Come on in.”

  He stopped and took off his boots before he continued. Tomorrow morning he would enter through the mudroom door, but he didn’t want to send the wrong signal. Phoebe might withdraw if she thought he took privileges that didn’t belong to him.

  The dim light of the lantern cast a shadow out on the living room floor. Phoebe appeared in the kitchen doorway, a weary smile on her face and dark rings around her eyes.

  He sprang forward. “Phoebe! Did you have a rough time last night with the boys?”

  Her smile faded. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, David, but I must say my nerves are pretty much shot.”

  He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close, but that was way out of bounds. “I’m so sorry,” he managed.

  “Don’t blame yourself, silly.” She tried to laugh. “No one is to blame except me, perhaps. Thinking I could handle all this.” Her hand motion took in the whole house in a quick swoop.

  “Phoebe.” He stepped closer. “Can you tell me what happened? And sit, please. You look as if—”

  “Don’t say it. I know. I look awful, and that only after one sleepless night. I’m sure everyone goes through this for whatever reason—family, sick children, concerns, wayward sons and daughters.”

  She was prettier in her disheveled state than he had ever seen her, but what an awful thing to think at this moment. “You…I…” He faltered again.

  She sat on the kitchen chair with only a brief glance toward the food laid out on the table. “I’ve served eggs, bacon, sliced cheese, bread and jam, and oatmeal. I couldn’t awaken them.” She choked. “I tried ten minutes ago, but they were so fast asleep I didn’t get further than the bedroom door. They only fell asleep an hour ago—something like that. What was I thinking?”

  “You must tell me what happened,” he said as he took the chair beside her. His hands rested lightly on the kitchen table.

  “Nothing much. I way overreacted, I think, but after…” Phoebe gave a deep shudder and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t speak of this, David. I ca
n’t.”

  He leaned closer. “You must, Phoebe. I must know. If it’s serious…” He let the threat hang.

  “Oh, it’s not serious.” Her hands fluttered about. “The boys didn’t misbehave. They just…oh…” Phoebe groaned. “It was such an awful story they told me—about a worm.” Phoebe froze, unable to finish.

  “Tell me. What story?”

  “Did they tell you stories yesterday afternoon?” She asked instead. “Those kind of stories?”

  “I don’t know. You haven’t told me anything. I heard more about Star Wars, but that’s all. About this character Luke Skywalker and the movie where the Tauntaun thing came from.”

  “But you haven’t seen it?” Horror filled her face.

  “Of course not.”

  “But you could talk to them about it?”

  “Phoebe.” He dared to touch her hand. “The movie was nothing. It’s all make-believe.”

  “You could speak to them about the movie?” She drew back her hand.

  “Yah.”

  “Have you seen a movie called Poltergeist?” Her gaze was intense.

  “No.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  She studied his face for a long time.

  “What? Tell me.”

  Slowly her face softened. “None of our people should hear of such a horror.” She shuddered again and reached for his hand. “You are such a comfort, David. Such a sea of sanity after what I went through last night.”

  He didn’t dare move with the softness of her hand in his.

  “I was sharing Grandma Lapp’s story with them,” she continued. “We got to the part about Grandma’s dream for this farm, and how her prayers no doubt were what made this possible. I said I was sure Grandma somehow knew how things were going…” Phoebe’s voice died out for a moment. “Bill spoke up and said, ‘That’s just like Poltergeist!’ I asked what that was, which was the wrong thing to say. Maybe I’ll know better next time.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Phoebe continued. “‘You don’t know about Poltergeist?’ George asked me. ‘Why, that’s like the best movie ever, about the dead coming back and haunting us.’” Phoebe clung to David’s hand until his fingers throbbed. “They told me awful things, David. Words that should never be heard in this house, and yet they were. The worse tale was of an awful thing that came out of…and grew…and…” Phoebe’s voice failed again, and tears streamed down her face. “I can’t say it, David. I just can’t even say the horrible words.”