Woodland Miracle (9781401688332)

by Reid, Ruth

  “It sure would be nice to go fishing,” Ben said as they started down the path. “It probably wouldn’t be too hard to find worms after all this rain.”

  She found simple satisfaction watching him scan the ground. Apparently he didn’t know grasshoppers worked best for fly-fishing. Or that peak season for steelhead and brown trout wasn’t for another month. A vision of him fighting the icy current in waders and catching nothing but the bushes behind him in his cast made her smile. She might be tempted to wander down to the river and spy on his first fishing attempt.

  They came to a large puddle that took up the entire width of the road and stopped. Ben dipped the shovel into the water and the metal part disappeared.

  “That’s too deep.” Grace searched for a shallower section where she could see the bottom. Still, the water would cover her shoes. She hesitated.

  “So, Grace, if you no longer go fishing, what do you do for fun?” Ben jumped the puddle, clearing it in one long stride.

  Toby landed short and made a splash.

  “Thanks a lot.” Ben wiped his pant leg where he’d been hit with murky water. “I was going to try and stay dry today.”

  Grace spun around. “I just remembered. We need the horse. I’ll meet you at the buggy.”

  “Hey,” Ben called.

  She faced him. “Jah? ”

  “You didn’t say what you do for fun.”

  “Laundry.” She started walking again.

  “That’s it?”

  “I wash walls and windows too,” Grace answered over her shoulder. “It’s a lively frolic that one doesn’t want to miss.” She chuckled softly. If Ben expected fun and games when he arrived, he would rethink his decision to stay. That suited her fine.

  Chapter Eight

  Ben stopped shoveling at the sound of a horse’s neigh. He spotted Grace riding toward them, a smile on her face. Ben stabbed the metal part of the shovel into the ground and approached the left side of the horse once it stopped. “You should add horseback riding to your list of fun activities.”

  “I forgot how enjoyable riding is.” She leaned down and patted the animal’s neck. Her expression stiffened. “But buggy horses are not intended to be ridden for mere pleasure. They provide a service.”

  The woman had already let her guard down, but he wouldn’t mention it. Ben raised his hands toward her waist. “Can I help you down?”

  “Nay, I’ll be fine.”

  Of course she wouldn’t accept his help. The horse turned his head close to Ben’s backside and snorted. He jumped away from the animal’s reach and gave Grace plenty of space to dismount. He liked bicycles better. They didn’t bite.

  She swung her leg over the back of the horse, but the horse sidestepped as she slid down. Before he had a chance to react, Grace lost her footing and landed in a puddle of water.

  Ben rushed to her side. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

  “I’m okay. Please,” she said, scrambling to arrange the bottom of her dress skirt. “Turn around.”

  It wasn’t like her legs were showing. She didn’t need to fret over covering her shoes. He stretched out his hand. “Let me help you up.”

  She shooed her hand toward his. “I don’t need your help,” she snapped. “I just want you to turn around and stop gawking at me.”

  He crossed his arms. “And just what am I gawking at?”

  “You know what.” Her eyes shifted from her dress hem up to him. She pushed a stray hair away from her face and left a streak of mud across her forehead.

  The red tinge spreading over her cheeks made it difficult not to stare. He fought to restrain his laughter, but when his eyes met her icy glare, he turned. She sputtered something under her breath.

  Splash.

  Water sprayed his backside and rippled at his feet. He peeked over his shoulder. She’d slipped on something and fallen back into the puddle. Ben turned and extended his hand. “Don’t you think it’s about time to swallow your pride?”

  She opened her mouth but then closed it and surrendered her hand.

  Ben assisted her to her feet, wrapping his arm around her waist until she was steady. He hadn’t held a woman to keep her from falling since Neva, and she’d clung to him drunk.

  Toby surfaced from the woods carrying an armload of sticks. His brows bent in puzzlement, but he said nothing.

  “You can let go of me nau,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

  Ben released her. He rubbed his mud-covered hands down the sides of his pants.

  “Are you . . . ready for the sticks?” Toby lifted his armload.

  “Almost.” Ben grabbed the shovel. He needed to do something to expel his nervous energy. The simple gesture of helping Grace left him weak-kneed and breathing fast. He wasn’t sure why. Ben sank the head of the shovel into the ground and moved the mud from around the wheel. He removed a few more shovelfuls, then used the weight of his body to rock the buggy up far enough for Toby to arrange the sticks in the hole.

  Toby rose from his knees. “Should get traction nau.” He motioned to Grace. “If you wouldn’t mind hitching the horse, we can see if this is going to work.”

  She wheeled the horse in a sharp circle, then backed him into position. A moment later, she announced that Jasper was ready.

  “Wait until we give you the signal,” Ben said. He and Toby went to the back of the buggy and got in position to push. “Okay, go.”

  She coaxed the horse.

  Pushing hard against the buggy, Ben grunted. The buggy moved an inch or so, then stopped. A moment later, while they were still pushing, Grace appeared.

  “Where’s mei nephew?”

  Ben relaxed his arms and stood upright. “What?”

  “Mitch. I sent him to get the groceries.”

  “And you need to know where he is nau?” Ben shook his head.

  She peered through the buggy window. “He didn’t even get them all.”

  “Grace.” Ben motioned to the puddle he was standing in. “Can we talk about that after we get the buggy out?”

  She squared her shoulders. “You don’t have to use that patronizing tone.”

  Ben glanced sideways at Toby. “Talk to her, please. We can’t move this buggy if she doesn’t get the horse to cooperate.”

  Toby turned to her. “He’s right, Grace.”

  She looked at the remaining groceries once more and then returned to the head of the horse. She clicked her tongue. The buggy jerked forward, then started to roll backward. Ben and Toby thrust their weight against it and kept it from dropping back into the hole. She gave another command and the horse lurched. This time the buggy cleared the area, although it wobbled like a bent wheel on a bicycle.

  “Okay, you can stop,” Toby called out.

  As they inspected the damaged wheel, she rummaged through the inside of the buggy.

  Grace held up an apple core. “I would offer you an apple, but it looks like you have already helped yourself to mei groceries.”

  “I didn’t eat that,” Ben said.

  “Me either.” Toby pointed into the woods. “I saw an apple core in the woods when I was gathering sticks, but I didn’t think anything of it.”

  “Maybe your nephew got hungry.” Ben turned his attention to the cracked wheel. He nudged Toby. “This isn’t safe.”

  “Hopefully, it’ll stay on long enough to get back to the barn.” Toby wiped more mud from his hands onto his pants. “I’m sorry,” he said to Grace. “We’ll have to walk. I don’t think the wheel can handle the extra weight.”

  “That’s a gut idea.” She took hold of the horse’s reins at the bit and clicked her tongue. “Let’s go, Jasper.”

  The horse lurched forward, and the buggy hobbled on its cracked wheel. The way it wobbled lopsided, Ben wouldn’t be surprised if it fell off the axle on the trip back to the house. He caught up to Grace. “You might want to steer the horse away from the potholes.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the wheel. “Do you think it’ll make it back t
o the haus?”

  “I don’t know. It’s limping pretty badly. Do you have an extra wheel? Toby and I can change it.”

  “Nay, but I’ll ask around. I’m sure someone does.”

  He glanced at the clear blue sky peeking through the bare trees. “Were you going to find out about the wheel today?”

  “Why do you ask? Because I wouldn’t feel comfortable loaning the buggy if that’s why you’re eager to change the wheel.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of asking to borrow your buggy.” The horse might be a gentle giant in her hands, but Ben wanted nothing to do with trying to control the beast. “I was thinking about going fishing. That is, if you think your daed wouldn’t mind if Toby and I use his poles.”

  Grace narrowed her eyes. “Hasn’t the bishop assigned you work?”

  “Jah, to get your buggy back home. Would you like to go fishing with us?”

  “I don’t have time to waste.”

  “Fishing is never a waste of time,” Ben said. “Maybe if you had some fun, you’d smile more.”

  She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something but shook her head instead. Except for the sound of wind in the bare trees and the shrill cry of a hawk nearby, all was calm. Too calm. Ben didn’t like the awkward silence between them.

  He eyed her left leg. “Did you get hurt?” He’d asked her after she’d fallen from the horse, but her puffed-up pride may have prevented her from being honest.

  “I’m fine.” She tipped her chin higher. “Why do you ask?”

  “You’re limping. I thought—” Toby speared him in the ribs with his elbow.

  “What?” Ben waited, but Toby merely furrowed his brow and shook his head. Ben turned back to Grace. “I can put you up on the horse if it’s too painful to walk.”

  “I told you I’m fine.” Her voice broke.

  Ben didn’t need another elbowing by Toby to know he’d said something wrong. He changed the subject. “So, do you think we could use the fishing poles?”

  A lump had formed in the back of Grace’s throat. She wouldn’t get the first word out without squeaking. Where was the rain when she needed it to wash her face of tears? She tilted her head back and hoped he didn’t see them fall. My grace is sufficient . . . Reciting the verse had always helped when someone whispered behind her back about her limp, or in Ben’s case, pointed it out. My grace is sufficient . . . It wasn’t working.

  Her wet dress clung to her legs and made it cumbersome to move. Almost home, she silently coaxed, catching a glimpse of the barn through the woods.

  Fishing. He had an easy life. She couldn’t even rest from her responsibilities long enough to apply the poultice to her legs and relieve some of the joint swelling. Once she took care of Jasper, she had clothes to wash. Maple syrup to can. She had enough work to keep her busy the rest of the summer. When did she have time for fun? Not that fishing was fun—she respected but despised the river.

  They reached the yard and Toby pointed to the smokehouse. “Would it be out of your way if the buggy sits over there?” he asked Grace. “It would be easier to change the wheel if we leave it out in the open instead of parking it under the lean-to.”

  “As long as it’s away from the clothesline.” She led Jasper to the spot and unhitched him. “Make sure the poles are returned to the rightful place. And nett with their lines tangled either.” She collected the groceries scattered on the floor of the buggy. She called for Mitch the moment she stepped inside the house.

  “He isn’t here,” Aenti Erma said, taking one of the bags from Grace’s arms.

  “Where did he go?”

  “I haven’t seen him since breakfast.” Aenti set the grocery bag on the counter and reached for the other one in Grace’s arms. “You’re all wet, child. Why don’t you change into something warm before you catch a kalt.”

  Grace emptied the contents of the grocery bags onto the counter, recalling the apple core she found inside the buggy and the other one in the woods. The bag of apples, the pears . . . the walnuts, all were missing. Things a boy would pack if he were on a mission to find his father. She rushed from the room.

  “Grace?” Aenti followed her to the door. “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to find Mitch.”

  Chapter Nine

  Adrenaline fed Grace’s veins. It wasn’t like Mitch to disappear. She sped through the barn, searched every pen, every stall, even the hayloft, but he was nowhere to be found.

  Grace bolted outside. “Mitch!”

  Mitch’s words echoed in her mind. Someone needs to go look for them. A sinkhole could have opened up and swallowed them.

  She cut across the pasture and sprinted into the woods. The spongy carpet of pine needles along the path cushioned her feet. The well-traveled footpath led to the fishing hole, the deepest part of the river. She hoped Mitch wasn’t foolish enough to try to cross in that area. Faint sounds of rushing water became louder. She ran faster.

  She spotted Ben and Toby several yards ahead meandering down the trail, fishing poles propped against their shoulders. Ben glanced over his shoulder and then stopped. “Did you decide to go fishing with us?”

  “Nay,” she said, gasping deep breaths. “I’m looking for Mitch. Have you seen him?”

  Voices echoed from the direction of the river. Laughing louder than any adult in their district would. “That’s probably him with the other boys.” Grace marched toward the river. She had half a mind to load him up with a week’s worth of chores for what he’d put her through.

  Ben came up beside her. “Maybe you should go light on him. You know . . . if he’s with his friends.”

  “You probably think I should let him go fishing.”

  The pack of boys raced toward them. “More ice has melted,” Owen Schmucker said, slowing his pace as he approached. “The river’s almost crested.”

  She eyed the group of boys but didn’t see her nephew. “Have any of you seen Mitch?”

  “Nett since yesterday.” The boys kept running. “We’ve got to tell the bishop about the river.”

  The river! She took off running toward the water in an uneven gait that put pressure on her hips.

  Ben flanked her side. “Aren’t you headed in the same direction where the boys just came from? None of them saw him at the river.”

  “I know.” She slowed her pace as they approached the clearing. The boys were right. The rushing water meant more than just a little ice had melted. She hadn’t ventured down the sandy embankment to go near the water since the last time she went fishing. Grace peered at the water. Many of the large boulders that she’d once sat on while dangling her feet in the river were underwater.

  “What kind of fish are in here?” Ben peered over the drop-off.

  “Steelhead, brown, brookie, and rainbow trout mostly. Salmon sometimes,” she mumbled.

  Grace stared at the swirls of frothy water and cakes of floating ice. Mitch wasn’t a strong swimmer. If he had tried to cross at this point, the current would have swept him downstream. She headed to the footpath, which cut through the wild grass growing along the riverbank.

  “Grace?” Ben’s raised voice grabbed her attention. “Nau where are you going?”

  “I have to find him,” she said over her shoulder.

  Ben sped up beside her on the trail. “If he came to the river, wouldn’t he be with his friends?”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. I think he might have tried to cross.” The runoff from the melted snow had softened the ground and the heel of her shoe sank into the spongy earth. She jerked her foot free. The ground was this soft the year the sinkhole opened. Mitch had probably overheard some of the women comparing how similar the wet seasons were.

  “Why would he?” Toby asked, trailing behind.

  “He overhead the discussion about the men last nacht and was upset. He thought someone should search for them.” Apparently, the talk she and Mitch had in the barn hadn’t helped. She should have recognized her nephew’s determination and kept a
closer eye on him. Even her brothers, Peter and Emery, the best swimmers she knew, would be hard-pressed to make it across. The high water level and turbulent flow would cast anyone downstream.

  Several feet ahead, a grouse rose from the dense brush, flapping its wings wildly. Toby and Ben paused, their eyes following the bird until it landed on a nearby beechnut branch. It wasn’t uncommon to kick up game along this path. As the underbrush along the riverbank became thicker, the trail led them farther away from the water and deeper into the woods. She stepped over a fallen limb.

  Tree branches snapped in the distance.

  More birds jetted up from the bushes.

  Grace halted. This time, something—or someone—else had spooked the wildlife. “Mitch?” she yelled.

  No answer.

  She scanned the wooded area. “Mitch?” she said louder, cupping her hand to her mouth.

  Toby and Ben echoed her call.

  Silence.

  “Why do I get the feeling that someone is watching us?” Toby asked, gripping the fishing rod like a weapon.

  Ben guffawed. “How much protection do you think that pole will give you?”

  Toby said something about how jumpy Ben was when two squirrels scurried up a nearby tree, but Grace ignored the banter and focused on her search.

  The area had changed since she was here last. Nothing looked familiar. Maybe this wasn’t the right direction. But it wasn’t long before the trail led them back to the river and they came upon the old watermill. The dilapidated building’s cedar-shake exterior was barely visible with the overgrown vines covering it.

  Ben lowered the fishing rod to the ground. “Let’s check it out,” he said to Toby, who was already walking toward the structure.

  Toby took a few steps and stopped. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Are you coming?”

  Grace shook her head. She hadn’t been to the mill in years and it wasn’t a place she wanted to revisit.

  Toby and Ben disappeared behind the building on the side facing the river.

  Grace planted her hands on her hips and stared at a boarded-up window. “Mitchell Wagler. If you’re in there, you better kumm out. Nau.” She eyed a section of wall where the bottom of a board had rotted. When nothing moved, her hope deflated. Mitch wasn’t there or he would have responded.