Daed set the box on a high shelf next to the other warming lamps. “You look stressed.”
“I’m feeling the pressure. A hundred hatchlings arriving between eleven and noon?” He didn’t need to explain to his Daed that when the chicks arrived, they would not have had a bit of water or food since hatching yesterday. Joshua and his Daed would have to deal with each one individually, giving them water and then food. If he and his Daed didn’t handle them with quick finesse, some would become too weak to swallow by midafternoon. “I’ll get everything set up in time.” He hoped.
When the hatchery he’d always ordered his birds from called him, asking if he’d take a hundred hatchlings, he was sorely tempted to say no. He never would have ordered chicks for his free-range farm this late in the season. Young ones often didn’t fare well in Pennsylvania winters, even in a heated barn, but someone had ordered a hundred Easter Egger chickens, and then two days before they were hatched, the person canceled the order. Without a home all would die from lack of attention, or they would be killed so they wouldn’t suffer.
He put fresh heat bulbs in the four brooder lamps and went out the nursery door and around the building to check on the gas-powered generator. Besides the fact that the chick nursery wasn’t ready to receive them, Joshua had two additional strikes against him in this venture. He’d never raised young ones this close to cold weather, and he’d never raised Easter Eggers, period. He wasn’t sure how many he could keep alive until spring, but he had to try.
The gauge on the propane tank indicated it was half-full. He’d order more this afternoon, but this was plenty for the next few weeks. On his way back from the generator, he stopped at the wagon and grabbed a large box of old newspapers and a crate of cedar shavings. His Daed was standing there, looking confused, and his brows were creased. Was he worried about Mamm? It’d been a tough weekend for all of them, but she was home now, resting. Or was he concerned about the chicks that were arriving?
“Daed.” Joshua set the newspapers and crate of cedar shavings on the floor. “Don’t let anything worry you. We’ll take good care of Mamm and the chicks, I promise.” Joshua grabbed a stack of newspapers. “Besides, these birds lay colored eggs. Can you imagine what a huge seller that will be at Easter? Free-range, naturally colored Easter eggs.” He passed the newspapers to his Daed.
“True.” His Daed took the hint and began spreading newspapers in the metal bins. “I hadn’t considered that part.”
Joshua nodded. “You’re having a hard time considering much of anything right now except worrying about Mamm. But you have to trust me. I’ll see to it that everything runs smoothly—Mamm’s doctor’s visits, her meds, and the farm.” He didn’t feel as confident as he sounded, but his Daed needed to be reassured.
“You know, Son, ten years ago when you wanted to change to free-range and expand this business, I never would’ve expected it to take off like it has.”
His Daed had said that same thing to him on numerous occasions, maybe because ten years ago he had balked at the idea when Joshua wanted to tear down the battery cages and convert the farm to free-range. “You feel bad for not believing me sooner, but looking back, I can’t believe you trusted a teenager about any business ideas.” Truth was, Joshua grew up hating to see chickens cooped up in a tiny space. It just seemed wrong to treat God’s creatures like that, and he’d told his Daed so numerous times over the years. Then at fifteen he stood his ground, making his Daed hear him. They’d argued for weeks, but his Daed came around to seeing Joshua’s point. “Free-range chickens have proved to be a worthy investment, ya?”
The Smucker family’s free-range chicken farm had been experiencing a surge in popularity at the farmers’ markets recently as many people—Amish and Englisch alike—were paying more attention to humane farming practices, to his Daed’s delight and Joshua’s reserved liking. He was definitely glad that the farm was doing better financially. However, a higher demand for eggs meant more work for him, the only one of the thirteen siblings who still lived at home.
His Daed continued lining the floor with newspaper. “I’m surprised you found all this stuff in storage.”
“Me too. I thought I might have to buy more than just the chick starter feed when I go to town. Oh, before I forget, I called several drivers earlier and found one who was willing to take me to Raysburg to that Greene’s Pharmacy the doctor told us about. He should be here a few hours after the chicks arrive, so I’ll get them squared away, make a quick trip to the pharmacy, and come back to nurture them some more.”
“I just can’t see making your Mamm give herself a shot of that stuff every single day.” Daed shuddered. “Surely there are other things we can do for her.”
“Not according to the doctors at the hospital. Or the clinic doctor that gave us a second opinion. It’s not just a temporary ‘spell,’ as she’s been claiming from time to time for years. She has diabetes. I don’t like it either. But we’re not gambling with her health, so we do what the doctors say. Every time.”
“None of you kids ever needed to take any of these expensive medicines that so many Englisch are on, and neither did your Mamm and I.”
Joshua shrugged. “We avoided having to go this route for as long as possible, but this weekend was scary. I never want to see her faint like that again and end up in the hospital. The docs say we have no choice but to get her on a specific medicine, and I believe them. So let’s not have this conversation again, okay?” He didn’t want to argue with his father, certainly not today when he had so much to get done.
His Daed sighed. “You ready to take care of these little fluff balls?”
Good. Daed was changing the subject. Joshua secured the extension cord to the wall and snaked it around to connect to the warming lamps. “Yeah. I’m not thrilled about the tedious tending the chickens will need when they get themselves all pasty. But it’ll be worth it come springtime when they are laying pretty colored eggs that fetch extra money at the markets around Easter.”
“I’ll share the chicken diaper duty with you. Don’t worry. I’ve never been afraid to get dirty. Knew that when I went into this business.”
Joshua had just begun sprinkling the shavings over the papers when he heard car tires on the gravel driveway. He looked at his Daed. “Isn’t it too early for the shipment?”
“Unless that’s your driver.”
“Good grief, I hope not.”
They stepped out of the shed, crossed the free-range field, and headed toward the driveway. Joshua shut the gate behind them, keeping his current chickens contained.
A familiar-looking man maybe in his forties got out of a red car. “Is this Smucker Farm?”
“Yes, I’m Albert Smucker.” Daed approached the man, hand held out.
“I’m Chad Richards, manager of Real and Fresh, a grocery store.” He shook Daed’s hand. “I spoke with a Joshua Smucker at the farmers’ market a few weeks ago.”
Suddenly it clicked, and Joshua could place where he’d met the man. “That’s right. Hi.” Joshua moved next to his Daed and offered the man his hand. “Chad is opening a grocery store about an hour from here, Daed, and he’s using all local items that are available. He was looking into carrying our eggs.”
“I like the sound of that.” Daed gestured toward the henhouse. “You want to come meet our birds? My son and I would love to show you around.”
Chad glanced at the old battery cage building. “I’m sure you both know this, but in order to be called free-range according to the law, the chickens can have as little as a few minutes a day outside. I won’t accept that, let alone anything less. I wanted to come by to make sure your farm went beyond that, you know?”
“Sure. See those battery cages?” Joshua pointed. “They haven’t been used in more than a decade. We use that building for storage now. I think you’ll be pleased with our flock and their houses.” Joshua motioned to th
e wide, picturesque farmland with chickens visible behind the fences. “I can give you pictures to take with you to show your customers as well. Want to take a walk?” He had time. He could show this man around and still finish setting up the brooding pens before his driver arrived.
“That’d be nice.”
As Joshua let Chad through the gate to where the chickens roamed, he heard another car in the driveway. No way. He turned. Well, the good news was that the baby chicks hadn’t arrived. The bad news was that his driver, Fred, had.
“My dad will walk with you. Excuse me for a minute.” He really wanted to show Chad around himself. Joshua had made the contact, and his Daed’s mind wasn’t as clear as usual right now, but at the same time Joshua needed to get his Mamm’s medicine.
Fred beeped the horn and rolled down his window. “My plans changed for the day. If you need to go to Raysburg, it’s now or not today.”
Joshua couldn’t go by horse and buggy. It was too hard on a horse to travel there and back in one day, and it’d take the whole day to do it. “We agreed—”
“I know that, but you said it had to be today, and I have right now. Actually, I have one hour to get you there and back, which gives you exactly seven minutes to get the prescription and get back in my car before I have to go. Unless you can wait until later this week.”
“No. Let me give my guest a quick goodbye.”
His Daed would have to handle this grocery store manager on his own. Joshua had to get to the pharmacy. His Mamm was more important than any amount of chickens, eggs, or money.
Holly breathed in the crisp morning air, admiring the splendor of the hills wearing their best October colors. The air smelled a little of fall but also hinted at the promise of a long Indian summer. Her Daed had loved fall. Even now she could see his grin as the beauty of this season awed him year after year.
Her phone sounded a familiar ping, reminding her that the store would open in thirty minutes. She clicked her tongue, encouraging Stevie to pick up his pace. Lyle had been right. She might not get back in time to open the pharmacy at ten. That would be a first. “We’re almost at the last stop, boy. I’ve got a yummy apple for you.”
Stevie’s ears perked at the word apple, but the white horse continued on faithfully without answering. Holly smiled. She was used to their one-sided conversations.
The beauty of the morning and the pleasure of talking to customers had caused the deliveries to go smoothly, except a few people hadn’t been able to pay the full amount for their medicines. Was that why Lyle needed to keep the store open seven days a week—to make up for the losses because he gave the poorer Amish people as much of a break as he could?
Stevie’s hooves clip-clopped down the dirt road, kicking up dust. Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop. “Lyle thinks I should hire a driver, and schedulewise I agree. But being a girl and having my newfangled, highly suspect medicines, I wouldn’t be as welcomed if we did that.”
Stevie snorted, nodding his head.
“Ya, you’re right. You’d be lonely without this, wouldn’t you, old boy?”
Again Stevie didn’t answer.
Finally arriving at her last destination, she pulled on the reins to stop Stevie, hopped out of the rig, and tied him to the hitching post. Like every other Amish family Holly knew, John and Ruth Troyer had a hitching post for guests. She paused and rubbed Stevie’s fuzzy white face. Then she gave him his promised apple.
The old farmhouse with its aging pale-blue paint had seen better days, much like the elderly couple who’d lived here for almost fifty years.
“Be right back, Stevie boy.” She gave him a final pat and reached into her rig to grab the bag of prescription medications she was delivering. The house truly begged for a fresh coat of paint, and she wondered if she could convince her brother and a few of his friends to take that on as a charity project.
She knocked on the front door, and after just a few seconds it opened.
“Guder Marye, John.” Holly grinned. The old man didn’t know it, but he was one of her favorite customers.
“Holly Noelle! Whenever you visit, it’s like an early Christmas.” The older gentleman chuckled as he held the door for her.
“Care for some coffee, liewi?” Ruth held up a percolator.
“Nee, denki. You two are very kind. I wish I could stay longer, but I’ll have to head out soon.” She needed to keep moving, although she would have liked to stay for a while and enjoy this fun couple.
Ruth set the percolator back on the gas stove. “How’s your family these days?”
Holly discreetly checked the time on her phone while Ruth was turned away. She’d need to wrap up this visit in a few minutes if she was going to make it to work on time. “Mamm and Ivy are still cleaning houses since we don’t have the hands to run much of a dairy farm at this time. Red is courting a girl—Emily over in Rocks Mill—and working for a painting company while he’s there. Mamm has mentioned wanting to catch up with you soon, and I’m sure she would tell you much more about my little brother and his girl. Unfortunately, the pharmacy opens soon, and I need to get back. Speaking of…” She handed the bag of prescriptions to John.
“Denki. Our Holly Noelle came bearing gifts.”
“Ya, but it’s not really Christmas, so they aren’t free.” She winked at Ruth. “Do you have any questions?” Not that she could legally give an answer, but she was required to ask that question, and giving them an answer is where contacting Lyle by phone became a part of these visits.
John emptied the bag onto a side table, picked up a pair of reading glasses, and carefully examined the labels on the three bottles. “I’m not sure about this one. It must be the new med the doctor wanted me to start. Any side effects?” He handed the bottle back to Holly.
She read the label: furosemide. The tablet was a common heart medication that she helped dispense almost every day. She wanted to ramble off the side effects that she knew: it can make you more sensitive to sunlight; it can make you urinate frequently and lose weight. If you have sudden weight gain, you need to go to the hospital. But she had to hold her tongue.
“I’ll get Lyle on the phone. Hopefully, it’ll just take a moment.”
“Take your time.” John sat down in his recliner.
Ruth joined him in the living room. Holly paced the creaky wooden floor while pressing the cell phone against her ear. She’d begun working at the local pharmacy with Lyle Greene ten years ago and started carrying a cell phone not too long afterward, but each time she used her iPhone, the irony of her plain Amish appearance in contrast to the new technology was not lost on her. No answer. She tried the main line at the pharmacy. Still no answer. But the pharmacy wasn’t officially open yet, so Lyle could be running errands. After reaching Lyle’s cell phone voice mail yet again, she moved the phone away from her ear and ended the call.
She tucked an escaped strand of hair behind her ear and slid her phone into the hidden pocket of her black apron. “I’ll have to come back later today.” If she was the least bit passive about anyone getting or taking the proper medication, she would easily undo her years of effort.
John put his shaky hands on the armrests of his chair and pushed until he was standing. “Denki, Holly Noelle. I’m sorry you have to make another trip, but I don’t know what Ruthie and I would do without you and Mr. Lyle.”
“Ya.” She set the medication on the table beside him. “I know what you’d do. You wouldn’t take your medications.” Holly tapped the lid of the bottle. “I’ll be back this afternoon, and we’ll get your questions answered.”
“Here you go.” John shook her hand, putting cash in her palm as he did.
“Denki.”
Holly hoped he’d given her the full amount on the receipt, but she’d count it later. Lyle often sold medication at cost, no profit involved. But at sixty-five years old, he would eventually have to reti
re and sell the store, hopefully to another pharmacist who cared about her people. It would be even harder to find that kind of pharmacist if Greene’s Pharmacy didn’t turn a decent profit. Maybe she was looking too far down the road, but if the pharmacy ever closed its doors, how would she continue moving her people to take better care of themselves? There were big pharmacies five or so miles away, right off the closest highway, but horses and carriages couldn’t go on highways. So the pharmacies might as well be a hundred miles away as far as most Amish were concerned. The sharp rise in costs for doctors’ visits and medication was enough of a deterrent for her people, and that would only increase in the coming years. They didn’t need the added issue of having to hire a driver to get to a pharmacy.
Holly thanked them both again and waved as she exited their front door.
Stevie snorted at her as if to say hello. Or maybe he was asking for another apple.
“Kumm.” She patted his head. “How about some fresh oats at the lot?” Once she was in the carriage and headed back to Raysburg, Stevie knew where he was going. She held the reins in one hand and with the other flipped through the list of Amish families that had agreed to come to the health fair she, Lyle, and Doc Jules were planning. Perhaps she could pop in the office for a quick chat with Doc Jules after she spoke with the Troyers again.
The horse clipped along, and she kept one eye on the road and a firm hand on the reins while studying the list. There weren’t enough hours in the day to focus on just one task at a time.
Soon Stevie came to his usual stop—the small pasture next to the Martel Clinic, where Doc Jules worked. A few other horses were already inside the fenced space, standing at the feeder under the lean-to, their owners most likely at the office or at a local shop. After tying off his reins, she gave him his oats and then crossed the street and walked along the sidewalk toward the downtown pharmacy.
Store lights peered through plate-glass windows, greeting her with a soft hello each morning she worked. She wrapped her sweater tighter around her and hurried up the sidewalk. As she approached Greene’s, she noticed an Amish man peering into the front window. He stood up straight and looked down the block. He appeared to be about her age and had no beard. Between her vision jostling as she hurried his way and his moving every few seconds, she couldn’t see his face, but he was tall, blond, and fit. Very fit.
The Christmas Remedy Page 2
