by Leslie Gould
Zane kept quiet in the backseat. He’d certainly picked up on the tension between his parents over the last few months, and it seemed he was careful not to set off his father.
Shani pulled the van into the driveway and stopped under the red and orange canopy of another maple tree. The grass was trimmed and tidy. The curtains in the front window were pulled back, as if someone were home.
The land was leased to a local farmer, and after her grandfather passed away her father had intended to rent the house out as well. Thankfully he hadn’t gotten around to finding a tenant. Her father said they could stay as long as they needed, at least until Joel was well enough to find a job.
“We’re home.” Shani turned off the ignition, aware of how false her words sounded.
Zane opened his door.
Shani turned toward her husband. “Shall we take a look?”
He didn’t answer but opened his door, swinging his good leg out and then moving his bum leg with his hands. He grabbed his cane.
“Wait,” Shani said. “I’ll help.” She hurried around to the passenger side. Joel was putting his weight on his good leg, pushing down with his cane to stand.
The rain fell harder. “I think I’ll look around outside,” Zane said.
“Don’t you want to see the house first?” Shani asked, taking Joel’s free arm.
“I’m just going to check out the field,” Zane said. “I want to get my bearings.”
She thought that was a funny thing for him to say, but if he explored the field first, he’d miss Joel’s complaining about the house. “Come back if it starts to pour.”
Zane nodded and then, whistling a tune Shani didn’t recognize—probably one he’d learned from Charlie—started toward the field.
Joel faltered on the stone driveway, and she reached for his arm. He shook off her hand and snapped, “I’m not one of your patients.”
She held her arm in midair for a moment. He was acting like one.
She eyed the steps, wondering how difficult they would be for him to maneuver, annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought through that detail. There were more than she’d remembered.
Joel’s arm stiffened, and Shani patted it. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and scowled, his forehead wrinkling under his short hair, still cropped in an Army cut. As Joel struggled up the steps one at a time, grasping the rickety railing that squeaked with each pull, Shani kept close in case he stumbled.
He took a raggedy breath and snarled, “You know I don’t like it when you hover.”
She winced at his harsh tone.
“I need to sit and rest a minute.” His voice was still raw. “You go ahead.”
“But it’s raining.”
His flipped the hood of his jacket onto his head. “I’ll be fine.” Her heart constricted, and the baby inside fluttered. Joel wasn’t fine—not at all.
As he turned and sat, she steadied him until he leaned against the next step. Another benefit of having Charlie around was that Joel behaved better. He’d never lost his temper with his friend—probably because the man had saved his life when he pulled Joel from the burning Humvee.
She continued on up the steps. She’d need to hire a carpenter to put in a ramp. Joel had only been out of his wheelchair for a week—he still used it when he was tired. She wished Charlie had followed them, as they’d originally planned. She could have used his help at the moment.
Shani unlocked the door with the key her father had sent and entered the house, surprised by the fresh, lemony scent. In the dim light she found the switch and turned on the overhead bulb. The room was completely bare except for the wood stove. She remembered huddling around it as a child on cold mornings.
She peeked into the kitchen at the familiar worn yellow linoleum and Formica counter tops. Turning down the hallway, she pushed open her grandfather’s bedroom door. Once cluttered, the room had been totally transformed. The stacks of books and papers were gone, along with the dark drapes. The last light of the rainy day revealed an Amish quilt covering the bed. The jewel-colored diamond shapes—burgundy, emerald, and sapphire blue—danced against the black background, as if casting a shadow. She stepped forward and rested her hand on the soft cotton.
Where had the quilt come from? Who had cleaned the house?
She felt hopeful, for the first time in months. “Please let us be happy here,” she whispered. That was all she wanted—all she’d ever wanted. She’d married Joel when she was nineteen and had Zane a year later. Her father had been horrified by both events, sure she’d thrown her life away. But she’d graduated from nursing school as planned, and for the most part, she and Joel had built a good life together.
Until his injury.
Zane and this new baby needed both parents. She’d seen too many families fall apart in the midst of a crisis. And not just military families. Her mother had left when she could no longer handle the monotony of suburban living, or so she’d said. Shani’s dad had coped as best he could—and had been both mother and father to her. But she didn’t want a one-parent family for her boys. She’d make things work with Joel, no matter how deep his wounds.
She rubbed her hand over the quilt squares as the hum of a truck vibrated through the room, and then the scrape of a branch against metal. She hurried out of the room, down the hall, and to the porch. Joel stood now and took a step down. Shani rushed to his side, taking his elbow, as the moving truck came to a stop.
Joel jerked his arm away.
“Wait here,” she said to him, waving to the mover on the passenger side of the truck. He opened his door and climbed down. “That’s quite the narrow lane,” he said.
She nodded. It had grown over since she had last visited.
The driver hopped down from the other side, headed toward the back, and pulled down a ramp, dropping it just a few feet from where Shani stood. She hesitated for a moment and then started toward her van. The living room furniture was deep inside the truck, and so was the dining room set. She needed to get Joel’s chair so he could sit—and soon, before the movers started up the stairs.
As she pulled the wheelchair from the back, Joel called out, “What are you doing?”
“Helping,” she called back. She carried the chair toward the porch, the metal back bumping against her belly.
Joel shook his head as she passed him on the steps. “You’re going to hurt the baby.”
“Light lifting won’t hurt the baby.”
“The wheelchair isn’t light,” he said before she entered the house. He worried constantly about the baby. He worried about everything.
She opened the chair in the middle of the living room and then hurried back to help Joel. He turned to face her as she stepped down from the porch, but he stumbled a little as he turned and grabbed onto the shaky railing. She’d need to get that fixed too. In a moment she was beside him, taking his elbow again.
His face darkened, and the scowl returned, but he allowed her to help. By the time they reached the wheelchair, his breath was labored. He’d always been so strong, so independent. She hated what the war had done to him.
He collapsed into the seat. “I’m going into the bedroom.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want their pity.”
“What are you talking about?”
Joel turned the chair around. “The movers. I’ve had enough of their pathetic looks.” Shani didn’t think they’d given him any, not just now or when they loaded the truck, but she wasn’t going to argue with him. He began slowly pushing the chair wheels.
“You can rest on the bed.” She stepped to the back of the chair and followed. “The room is all made up.”
He slept poorly during the night, but she hoped he would be able to rest so he would be alert when Charlie came tomorrow.
“The floors need to be refinished,” Joel said as they neared the hall. “And the whole place could use another coat of paint.”
He was right. It was a little shabby. Not nearly as well maintained
as the last time she’d been in the house. But her grandfather had been eighty-two when he died, and not nearly as mobile as he had once been.
“We’ll take care of it,” she said. “In time.”
Joel grunted. “You’ll have to hire someone—and we don’t have the money.”
The truth was, they did have some money. She had saved as much as she could when Joel was in Iraq, but finances were another of his irrational fears. He was sure they’d go broke before he could heal and find another job.
If the processing of his disability payments kept dragging on, he might end up being right. Unfortunately for him, due to his injuries, he was out of the Army for good. Shani, however, was relieved.
She inched the chair through the doorway, grateful it fit, and then stopped beside the bed.
She pulled back the covers, revealing bleached white sheets, but he didn’t move.
“I’ll sit in my chair,” he said.
“Okay,” Shani responded, leaving the bed turned down. “Light on or off?”
“Off.”
She inhaled sharply. Here he was, back in a dark room—by himself.
The driver of the moving truck called out, “Mrs. Beck!”
She bent down and kissed Joel’s forehead.
He stiffened his back. “Go.”
The movers said they’d arrange the furniture for her, but she told them to put it all in the living room. She’d rather have them gone as soon as possible and Joel out of the bedroom. Charlie and Zane could move everything around the next day.
After telling the men where to put things, she said she’d be right back and hurried toward the field, passing by the barn and chicken coop on her way. It was completely dark now, and the rain had stopped entirely. A few stars poked through the clouds, and a half moon rose over the poplar trees that lined the field.
A figure stood at the end of the field, by the gate. It had to be Zane. She began to walk as quickly as she could, tucking a hand underneath her rounded belly. On the other side of the trees, the creek gurgled. She remembered playing along it as a child.
When she reached the halfway point she yelled Zane’s name.
He turned toward her and waved.
“Come on,” she called out, gesturing for him.
He glanced over his shoulder and then stepped toward her, walking slowly.
“Hurry,” she yelled.
Finally Zane began to jog, but he still glanced over his shoulder a few times. When he reached her, he said, “The Amish family was doing their chores.”
She hoped he hadn’t offended them by watching.
“There are the two kids we saw, plus the baby, and another brother too, younger, and a little girl.”
“Oh,” Shani said. “They do have big families.”
“The dad is huge. Really tall and strong, like he could lift a house if he had to.”
Shani smiled. “Don’t exaggerate.”
“I’m not,” he said. “The kids waved, but I didn’t think you’d want me to go over without asking for permission first.”
Shani nodded. “Good choice.”
“The woman pulled the laundry off the line while she held the baby on her hip and the older girl helped,” Zane said. “The dad and boys kept leading cows into the barn and then back out.”
“They’re doing the milking,” Shani said.
As they neared the end of the field he said, “It’s cool there are other kids nearby.”
Shani didn’t think the Amish children would be allowed to play with him, but she didn’t want to disappoint him so soon. She reached out and tousled his hair. He’d be taller than her soon, maybe even in a few months. Life had been so crazy lately she hadn’t kept up with how much he was changing. Hopefully she would be able to enjoy the year ahead with him. “Can you sit with your dad while I sign some papers for the movers?”
He nodded. “What’s for dinner?”
She hadn’t thought that far. “I’ll find some takeout.”
Zane increased his pace as they rounded the corner of the field toward the house. “I’m tired of pizza.”
Shani groaned. “Definitely a failure on my part,” she joked, although she was partly serious. They ate takeout way too much. That was one of the things she hoped to improve with their move. “Go check on your dad, okay? He’s in the back bedroom.”
Zane ran up the steps to the porch, as the two movers came out. “There you are,” the driver said, holding out a clipboard. The other mover continued on down to the truck.
After she signed the papers, the driver said he hoped her family would be happy in Lancaster County. As he bounded down the stairs, tears stung Shani’s eyes. That was all she wanted.
She swiped at her eyes and turned toward the house. Zane stood in the front doorway. “Dad said he didn’t want company. He’s sitting in the dark, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.”
“Okay,” Shani said. “I’ll go ask him what he wants to eat.”
“I’m not staying here while you’re gone.” Zane zipped his jacket. “I’m going with you.”
Shani nodded. It wasn’t that Joel couldn’t stay by himself. She just didn’t like it when he did. But she’d soon be back to work and Zane would be in school.
Joel would be by himself plenty then.
3
Lila slipped the baby into the high chair while Eve pulled the roast from the oven. Tim and the boys would soon be in for supper.
First the moving truck had come and left and then the neighbors had driven away in their van, probably to get something to eat. She wished she’d made two roasts and left one for them, but it was too late now.
She wondered what the woman thought of the quilt on the bed. She’d mentioned her idea to give it away to Tim but he’d hardly acknowledged what she’d said. Obviously, like with so many things, he didn’t care.
“They’re coming back,” Rose called out from the front room.
“What are you talking about?” Lila stepped to the open archway between the two rooms.
“The new neighbors. In that van.”
“Rose,” Eve said, “stop spying.”
“I’m not,” the girl said. “I’m just standing at our window.”
It had been a long time since they’d had neighbors to watch. Old Man Williams hadn’t done much in the area of coming and going.
“Come finish setting the table,” Eve said.
Rose skipped into the living room, her braids bouncing on her shoulders. She grinned as her eyes met her Aenti’s. She wasn’t quite as gregarious as Simon, but nearly so. She’d just started her first year of the school the Amish children attended and enjoyed the recess and lunchtime the most, unlike Lila, who soaked up all the learning she could.
Eve turned back toward the stove and pulled the biscuits from the oven. She had been caring for others for the last decade. First for her parents until they both died, then for Abra from the time she was diagnosed with cancer until her death five months ago. Now Tim and the children.
Lila only had two more years as a scholar so, theoretically, she could take over the household then. But in a roundabout way Eve had promised Abra, when she was dying, she wouldn’t leave. She’d stick by that promise.
Rose started putting the forks and knives around the table. “Did you see that Englisch kid standing on the other side of the gate and staring at us?” she asked Lila.
Her sister nodded. “We saw him in the van when they came up the lane too, on our way back from the neighbor’s house. His Mamm was driving, and his Dat was in the front.”
A knife clattered to the table. “The mother was driving? That’s weird.”
“Hush,” Eve said. “The Dat was hurt in the war. Maybe he can’t drive anymore.”
“Oh.” Rose scrunched her face as if trying to figure it all out. “Simon’s going to want to hear all about the war, for sure.”
Eve shook her head. A soldier had spoken to him a year ago in Walmart, and Simon had been obsessed with the militar
y since. No, Tim would not be pleased if Simon asked too many questions. In fact, Tim had lectured all of the children several times since on what it meant to be nonresistant—to turn the other cheek, to not defend oneself, let alone attack—but Eve didn’t think Simon had listened.
By the time Eve had the biscuits and roast on the table, Tim and the boys came through the back door onto the mud porch, kicked off their boots, and headed to the bathroom to wash.
“Pour the milk,” Eve said to Lila. “And, Rose, put on the napkins.” The little girl had drifted to the dining room window. She turned, grinning, and did what she was asked.
The children didn’t talk about the Englisch boy in front of Tim, but once he’d finished eating and left to go check on a cow that was in labor, Simon said, “That Englisch boy was staring at me every time I came out of the barn. I thought maybe he’d come over to say hello, but he never did.”
“How old do you think he is?” Daniel asked.
Simon shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s tall.” He smirked. “Taller than you.”
Daniel frowned, but before he could react, Rose said, “His father was in the Army.”
“Are you sure?” Simon sat up straight.
“Jah,” Rose said. “That’s what Aenti said.”
Simon looked at Eve. “I believe it’s true,” she said. “But that’s actually none of our business. Our only concern is to be good neighbors. Jah?” After the conflict Tim had with Mr. Williams, she hoped they’d be given a second chance.
The older children nodded in agreement, Rose wrinkled her nose, and Trudy began to fuss.
“I’m going to put the baby to bed. Lila and Rose, you do the dishes. And boys, go see if your Dat needs any help.” She stood and smiled. “Be quick and I’ll make popcorn before bedtime.” She usually only made it on Friday nights, but this particular Thursday evening seemed as if it needed some cheer.
The children scrambled to their feet as she scooped Trudy out of her chair and headed to the hall. She was sure the children missed their mother most at bedtime, although she knew all of them ached for her all the time.
Abra. Eve’s father had ridiculed her friend’s name, saying it was too fancy, even though it was the feminine form of Abraham. Tim had ridiculed the name too—until he realized he had a chance to make her his wife. By then he was smitten by Abra. Eve was pretty sure Tim had never expected to marry at all, let alone someone as beautiful and full of life as the woman who became his helpmeet.
