by Reid, Ruth
“The men have offered to stay for the summer and work,” the bishop said.
How kind of the bishop not to mention the letter he’d received concerning the details behind their arrival. Although Bishop Yoder hadn’t indicated whether he knew about them illegally swimming at Tidewater Inn and how their fathers had picked them up at the police station, Ben suspected he knew more information than he let on.
Bishop Yoder cleared his throat, stifling the maedels’ soft chatter. Then he went on to talk about the concern everyone shared about not hearing from the men who were off at lumber camp. “We all know how hard it’s been raining—much more than other years. But I’m sure we’ll receive news soon.”
Grave sighs filled the room. “What if another sinkhole opened? That’s what happened the last time we had this much rain at once . . .” The woman’s voice broke, and her eyes closed.
A soft murmur erupted. Ben glanced at Toby, then turned to the bishop. “Toby and I can search for them.”
The room silenced. Every eye focused on them.
Ben shrugged. “It’s only a few miles, right?” Wasn’t that what Grace had said? He had walked farther than that to get to the fishing harbor to catch the boat.
“It is,” the bishop said. “But it’s a very difficult journey.”
Ben nodded and glanced across the room at Grace. “Aren’t the men loaded down with equipment? We wouldn’t need to take that many provisions.”
“Danki, Ben. We can talk about it more later.” The bishop addressed the women. “If you haven’t already stocked up on groceries, I suggest you do so. With the roads beginning to flood, we’ll be closed off if we can’t redirect the water.” The bishop asked if anyone had any questions and Erma raised her hand.
“Mei niece wasn’t able to get down our road,” Erma said. “Her buggy is still stuck.”
Grace eyed her aunt as if she wanted to say something, but tightened her lips instead.
Ben wasn’t sure how they had made it out to the main highway this morning.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Bishop Yoder nodded toward Ben and Toby. “Will you two work on that in the morning?”
“Sure,” Ben said. He didn’t know an unmarried man who wouldn’t want to work for a district filled with so many women—Grace included. It was good to feel needed. Maybe if his father had appreciated him more, things would have worked out in Florida. But any show of affection—be it verbal or a simple pat on the shoulder—wasn’t his father’s way.
The bishop smiled. “It’s gut to have volunteers with strong hands. You two will be a big help in our community.” The bishop ended the meeting with a reminder to pray for the men and to meditate on the verse in Philippians directing the flock to be anxious for nothing.
Several of the women headed into the kitchen. Grace weaved through the crowd in Ben’s direction and stopped before him. “Can I speak with you outside a moment?”
“Sure.” He’d listen to her apology. Maybe her heart wasn’t pumping venom after all. Ben followed her outside. “Ach, it’s kalt out.” He should have grabbed his coat.
“Jah, I’ll make this brief.”
He smiled. She probably thought she could choke down some humble pie with a few words. Ben reached for her arm, her muscles stiffening under his touch. “Let’s move somewhere out of the wind.”
She glanced at the house, then motioned to a large tree just a few feet from the porch steps.
The tree wasn’t large enough to shield them both from the bitter night. He stepped closer. Better. “What did you want to tell me?”
She backed up into the tree. “You and Toby won’t need to help tomorrow.”
Ben leaned closer still and whispered, “We don’t mind.”
“Jah, well . . .” Her breathing broke into short gasps. “I’d rather you nett.”
Facing her, he placed his hands on either side of the tree, caging her. “Is there something else you’d like to tell me?” Like an apology for dumping them off at the grocery store?
“Nay, I . . . I told you I’d be brief.” She ducked under his arm and dashed toward the house.
He jogged up the steps. “Grace, I, um . . . I shouldn’t have overstepped mei bounds. Mei closeness made you . . . uncomfortable and . . .”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She opened the door and darted into the house.
Ben hurried in behind her. “I was trying to get behind the tree more—out of the wind,” he whispered.
“So you say.” She swept her hand over her dress skirt.
His smug smile turned into a grin. “So, you think your closeness was what warmed me up, stopped me from shivering?”
She opened her mouth but clamped it shut when Toby and the bishop approached.
“Grace, I hope you didn’t have to walk far from where your buggy broke down.” The lines across Bishop Yoder’s forehead deepened with fatherlike worry.
“Nay, I didn’t.” She lowered her head and tugged at the fold in her dress skirt.
“Well, these men will get you taken care of.”
“Absolutely.” Ben nodded when she snapped her head up.
“There’s food in the kitchen. Kumm get something to eat when you’re ready.” The bishop walked away.
“So, that settles it,” Ben said with a glint of satisfaction. “How far did you have to walk?”
Grace waited until the bishop was out of earshot. “I don’t need your assistance or . . . your pity.”
Before Ben could respond, Toby bridged the gap between them.
“We want to help,” Toby said. “If we’re going to be staying in your district, we need things to keep us busy.” He moved even closer to her, blocking Ben’s view completely. “If anyone’s to be pitied, it’s us. We’re just poor castoffs who don’t have enough money to get home.”
Next, Toby would be telling her how their fathers were ashamed of them. True, his life was pitiful, but he didn’t want to hear Toby talk about it. Ben sidestepped them. “While you two figure it out, I’m going to eat.” And maybe mingle with the roomful of maedels.
Ben had a better night’s rest sleeping at the bishop’s house. The air became thick with the welcoming scent of sausage and biscuits instead of hay and manure. Ben tossed the covers aside and bounded out of bed. Toby stirred on the bed next to the window as Ben pulled on his pants.
“I dreamt I was home,” Toby said, rubbing his eyes.
“I decided after last nacht that I like this settlement,” Ben said, shoving his arm into his shirtsleeve.
“You like the attention from the maedels.”
“And why wouldn’t I? We’re the only unmarried men here. Get up, it’s a gut day.” Ben pulled his suspender over his shoulder and left the room. The bishop’s wife was stirring sausage gravy on the stove as he entered the large farmhouse kitchen.
“How did you sleep?” she asked.
“Perfect.”
“The bishop will be in shortly. He’s out in the barn doing chores.”
“I’ll go help him.” Ben plucked his hat from the hook. The wind lifted his hat as he stepped off the porch. He held it down and jogged toward the barn. The big red barn, situated on a hill, was massive compared to Grace’s. Ben had never known a barn to have a basement, but the bishop’s barn had a walkout entry, which led into the milking parlor. His eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimness.
Ben found Bishop Yoder seated on a stool milking a cow. “Gudder mariye.”
“Sleep well?”
“Jah. Your fraa said you were out here. Do you need help?”
“Have you ever milked a cow?”
“Nay.” Ben wanted to make a good impression, but sitting so close to a cow looked a little intimidating, not to mention the physical contact required.
Bishop Yoder stood and motioned to the stool. “Have a seat.” He went to a shelf and removed a bottle of hand sanitizer, then pumped the spout over Ben’s open hands.
Ben rubbed his moist palms on his pant legs. He sat, but with g
reat reservation.
Bishop Yoder chuckled. “Let’s have your hands again.” He administered another dollop of antiseptic, then set the bottle aside. “I’ve already milked the back two teats.” Bishop Yoder squatted beside Ben. “You hold the teats like this and gently squeeze down.” He demonstrated the technique, squirting frothy milk into the bucket, then released the udder and stood. “Nau you try.”
Ben took a deep breath and positioned his hands. Nothing came out. He glanced up at Bishop Yoder. “I’m doing something wrong.”
“Try it again.”
This time a light spray splattered against the side of the bucket. “I did it.”
Bishop Yoder clapped his shoulder. “Jah, you did. Nice work, sohn.”
Ben continued milking, never getting into a comfortable rhythm like the bishop had, but filling the bucket nonetheless. He milked the cow dry, or so he thought until he and the bishop changed places.
“After some practice, you’ll be able to feel when all the milk has come down,” the bishop said, getting more milk from the cow. Once he finished, he picked up the bucket and handed it to Ben, then untied the cow from the post and took her to the door that led to the pasture. “I used to milk three solid hours growing up. We had a dairy farm and mei bruders and I milked the entire herd by hand.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
Bishop Yoder smiled. “Hard work keeps a man out of trouble.”
Ben chewed the inside of his cheek. More than likely the bishop’s statement had something to do with the letter he’d received from Ben’s father.
The bishop stroked his beard. “We have a lot of young maedels in our settlement. Some I’m sure will bid for your attention.”
News of Ben’s indiscretion in Florida had spread. He lowered his head to avoid the bishop’s scrutiny.
“Avoid temptation and walk by the Spirit, so you will nett gratify the desires of the flesh.”
Ben gulped. “I understand.”
“Gut.” Bishop Yoder clapped his shoulder. “Nau that the boundaries are established, let’s go eat.”
“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Grace said to Mitch as she emptied a bucket of water into the horse trough.
Mitch shrugged.
Grace waited for her nephew to empty his water bucket, then walked with him out to the well pump. “Concerned about your daed, jah?” He’d moped since the men left. “Me too.” Grace pushed the barn door open. The sun was rising and shades of pink and light blue filled the sky.
Mitch primed the hand pump. “Someone needs to go look for them. A sinkhole could have opened up and swallowed them.”
“You were listening to the adults’ meeting with the bishop last nacht, weren’t you?”
He thrust down on the handle. Water gushed out of the spigot and into the bucket.
“I know you’re worried. We all are, but sinkholes are nett that common. The one that opened up a few years ago was the first in many years.”
“Still, someone needs to go look for them.” He stopped pumping when the bucket was full and waited until she exchanged it for an empty one. “Those men from Florida said they would go.”
“I know. But they’re nett from here. They might get lost themselves.”
“I could show them the way.”
“Ach, nay.” She shook her head. A ten-year-old and two Florida men were not a good combination to wander in the Michigan wilderness. “We need to trust God. Things will work out according to His will. But we must walk in faith.”
“I know.” Mitch’s somber expression tore at Grace’s heart. His faith hadn’t materialized into more than someone else’s words.
For Grace, words of faith meant realizing she had physical limitations unlike the other children and that she needed to trust in God. She could still hear her mother’s voice reciting the verse in Second Corinthians. My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness. Grace had learned about Saint Paul’s infirmities long before she comprehended her own shortcomings. Yet the words held empty meaning even now. She also recalled in the Bible the crippled man at the pool and how Jesus asked if he wanted to be healed. She’d lost endless hours of sleep contemplating whether her healing was being withheld until she took some steps in faith. Maybe returning with Aenti Erma to the city was where healing could happen. She’d find a doctor and with the Lord’s help they’d figure out how to restore her body.
“Mei daed says you have to exercise faith so that it grows.”
“Your daed is a wise man.” Grace’s oldest brother, Peter, was a good role model for his son, much like her father. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes the easiest way to take your mind off your troubles is to keep busy. After breakfast, would you please go to where I left the buggy and bring back the groceries?”
“Okay.”
Grace picked up the water bucket. “Let’s get these animals fed and watered so we can get something to eat.” They walked back to the barn.
By the time the morning chores were completed, her nephew’s shoulders no longer slumped. He ate so fast Aenti Erma had to tell him twice to slow down.
Mitch set his fork on his plate and wiped his sleeve over his mouth.
Aenti Erma crinkled her brow.
“I’m done. Can I be excused?” He pushed to his feet the moment Grace nodded.
“I asked him to fetch the groceries from the buggy after breakfast,” Grace said to Aenti Erma, then took a sip of coffee. Perhaps the talk with him had helped.
A few moments later, someone knocked and Grace rose to answer the door.
Toby and Ben stood on the stoop. “Gudder mariye,” they said in unison.
“Hello.” She hesitated a moment, then swung the door open for them to enter. “I thought maybe you had changed your mind.” After all, she had asked them not to come.
“Nope.” Ben grinned. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I . . .”
Ben tilted his nose in the air and sniffed. “Did Aenti Erma cook bacon again?” His question wasn’t directed at Grace but the kitchen, as he moved past her.
Aenti Erma rounded the corner, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Gudder mariye. Can I make you two a plate?”
Ben’s smile widened. “How could I pass up—?”
“We’ve already eaten,” Toby interjected.
“Oh, but . . .” Ben rested his hand over his midsection.
Grace snatched her coat off the hook. She had other things to do today. Laundry if it didn’t rain, and once the buggy was pulled out of the rut, she needed to deliver the dog beds she had ready to sell in the pet store in town.
Toby elbowed Ben. “I think Grace is ready to go.”
At least one of them seemed conscientious of something other than eating, although she had no idea how Ben could stay so . . . fit. She shook her head, casting those thoughts aside, and pulled the door open. She shot down the porch steps and walked to the barn as an image of Ben standing before her under the elm tree outside the bishop’s house stole her attention. She’d fought half the night with the image of him leaning toward her and the memory of his warm breath brushing against her ear—while the other half of her restless night was spent reminding herself how he’d centered himself in the cluster of unmarried women. Flirts never lasted in their settlement and neither would Ben.
Grace stood for a long moment in the barn, her mind blank. She growled under her breath. The shovels were in the equipment barn. She pivoted around and marched outside, vowing that she wouldn’t let Ben Eicher distract her again.
Ever.
Grace glanced at the house and huffed. Ben stayed inside to eat, and no doubt persuaded Toby too. She headed toward the equipment shed. Ben was as transparent as an icicle, only he dripped with phony eagerness.
The screen door snapped. Eager Beaver jogged across the lawn. His sidekick, Toby, was a few lengths behind.
Ben caught up to her. “Sorry, we were detained.”
“I wasn’t c
oncerned,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the shed.
“You’re walking fast. I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry.”
“Saturdays are always busy. But please don’t let that stop you from eating.”
“I was being polite to your aenti.” He turned so that he was walking backward in her direct path. “And I like bacon that isn’t store-bought and buttermilk flapjacks with maple syrup that isn’t watered down.” He shrugged. “Is that a sin?”
She stopped when Ben blocked the door to the shed. Grace folded her arms. “Nay, it isn’t a sin. Nau will you please step aside so I can get in there?”
“I didn’t eat,” Ben said, opening the door.
Toby followed her into the building. “He didn’t. LeAnn came up from the cellar and had her arms loaded with canning jars. We helped her bring another load up.”
“You don’t have to explain.” She grabbed a shovel and handed it to him. “I wasn’t trying to put you on the spot.”
“Who’s the fisherman?” Ben motioned to the rods hanging on the wall.
“Those two belong to mei father and bruder.” She moved the garden rake and hoe aside to reach another shovel.
“Where do they catch fish around here?”
“The river mostly.” She went to hand Ben the other shovel, but he had moved closer to inspect the fishing tackle. He glanced over the leaders and rubber waders, then eyed the bamboo rod off to the side. “And this one?”
“That one’s mine.”
He lifted one brow at her. “This is a fly reel.”
“I know what it is.” He didn’t believe the pole was hers.
He ran his thumb and index finger down the line. “It needs greasing. It won’t float.”
“It hasn’t been used in a while.”
Toby elbowed him. “Kumm on. We have a job to do.”
At least one of them could stay focused. Grace left the shed. She had more to do than listen to Ben reminisce about fishing. Fishing was for leisure and she had no time to spare. The laundry was piled up because of all the rain, and she needed to tackle the spring-cleaning. The windows had a film of soot on them from burning wood in the woodstove all winter.
