by Marta Perry
Fortunately for Jacob, Daadi saw her. He waved and headed across the lawn toward her.
He reached her as she mounted the porch steps.
“You’re putting the garden in already, I see.”
“Ja.” He sent a glance toward Jacob, toiling across the length of the garden. “Jacob thought we should wait another week for the soil to dry more, but I’m ready to get peas and spinach in the ground.”
“How is Jacob shaping up?” She’d be happy to keep the conversation on someone other than herself for as long as possible.
Daadi gave a snort, but his eyes held a twinkle. “Like most young folks. Thinks he knows more than his elders. He’s a gut boy, though, and does what I ask, I will say that.”
“He’ll learn a lot from you.” She studied her father’s face as she spoke. She’d have said that he never seemed to age, but something—worry or tension, maybe—was exaggerating the lines around his eyes.
“Ja, well, he’ll turn into a gut farmer, I have no doubt. Maybe he’ll be taking this place over one day.” He gazed across the field toward the orchard, shielding his eyes with his hand.
Her breath caught. That was the first time her father had spoken of the future he envisioned for the farm, now that Johnny was gone.
She didn’t know what to say to that, so maybe it was best to say nothing. “I’d best get Mary ready to go home.”
Before she could reach for the door, Daad stopped her with a quick gesture. “She’s still napping, I think, judging by the quiet. Walk down to the pond with me, ja? Komm.”
He turned, not waiting for an answer, and she fell into step with him.
He didn’t speak as they walked side by side across the lawn. When she was young, she’d trailed him everywhere around the farm. Most of the time he’d been silent, but that hadn’t bothered her. It had been a comfortable, accepting kind of silence, and she’d learned much even from the things he didn’t say.
She waved at Jacob as they passed the garden. Both hands gripping the plow, he couldn’t wave back, but he gave her a nod and a smile.
The day was warming, even though the grass dampened her shoes as they started through the grove of trees to the pond. She and Johnny had come this way together more times than she could count, on their way to catch tadpoles in the pond, most likely, or to grasp at fireflies in the dusk.
A pang of longing pierced her heart. If she had those days back again, she would cherish her moments with him, knowing that the time would come when they’d be few and far between.
Daadi stopped at the bench he’d built on the edge of the pond, so Mamm could enjoy sitting there in the evenings. He sat down, patting the space next to him.
Rachel sat, too, bracing herself. A private conversation with Daad would undoubtedly be on the subject of her stubbornness.
“Never heard the spring peepers as loud as they are this year.” He leaned his elbows on his knees, gazing out over the still water of the pond. “You should bring the kinder down here in the evening sometime soon.”
“I will,” she said. She leaned back, staring as he did at the pond.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he hadn’t brought her here to lecture her. The still surface of the pond reflected the drooping willow tree, already dressed in its pale green, and the puffy white clouds that drifted across the sky.
In the marshy area around the pond, the tan heads of cinnamon ferns lifted above the vibrant green of the unfurling fans of skunk cabbage. It was quiet, and peaceful, and as familiar to her as her own body.
Daadi spoke without turning to look at her. “Have you any new answer for me about moving back here with your children, Daughter?”
Well, she had known that was what was in his mind, hadn’t she?
“No, Daadi.” Best to come right out with it. “You know how I feel about that. I appreciate that you want us, but . . .”
“Don’t say that.” He turned toward her, his face tight with a tension she hadn’t recognized. “Think about it, child. Don’t tell me that you appreciate it. You need help, and we’re your parents. You’re a parent yourself, now. If one of your children needs, don’t you have to go to the rescue?”
“Ja, I do.” She took a breath, despairing of ever making him understand. With Daad against her plans and Isaac threatening to complain to the elders, was there any hope for her?
“Well, then,” Daad said.
“Please, try to understand.” She put her hand on his, willing him to listen to her. “Of course I would run to the rescue, but my children are hardly more than babes.”
“The love doesn’t change, no matter how old the child becomes. Your mamm and I want nothing so much as to help you raise those children. We don’t want to see you wearing yourself down to nothing trying to run the farm and take care of them.”
“I’m not. You know that I’m not doing any of the work with the dairy herd now.”
“And what will you do if Isaac withdraws his help? He could do that, and then where would you be? I heard . . .” He let that trail off, but she knew what he’d intended to say.
“You’ve heard that he’s talking of complaining to the elders about me.” Surprising that she was able to say the words so calmly.
“Ja, I’ve heard that.” He gave a heavy sigh. “It’s a bad thing, having conflict in the family.”
Anger flared up like a candle in the dark. “And isn’t it a bad thing for Isaac to try to force his brother’s widow to sell out to him?”
“Isaac is as headstrong as he ever was. Maybe worse, since his father died.”
“Then you understand.” Hope blossomed for a moment.
“I know that he’s difficult to deal with.” Her father shook his head. “But to think of selling to an Englischer rather than your husband’s kin . . .”
“But that’s the point. I wouldn’t have to sell if I accepted Carver’s offer.” Everyone seemed to have a different version of what the man had offered. “He wants to buy the herd, yes, but he would only lease the barn and the land.”
“Is it so important to you, to hold on to the farm in the hopes that the children will want to farm it? What if they don’t?”
He hadn’t let bitterness into his voice on the words, or sorrow, but she knew he must feel both. She never talked to him about Johnny. Maybe she should.
“Daadi, you know what I’m feeling. You’ve kept the farm, hoping that Johnny would come back, even though . . .” She stopped, not wanting to finish that.
“Even though you know he never will.” Her father finished it for her.
“Ja,” she said softly. “That is what I believe.”
Daadi closed his eyes briefly, as if he could shut out the pain. “I don’t want to see you work yourself to death to hold on to the farm for the children,” he said again. “I believe you’d be better off to sell, to Isaac or the Englischer, I don’t care which, and move back home with us.”
Nothing changed. No matter how hard she tried to explain, everyone around her stayed firm in his own belief that he knew what was best for her. The weight of all that disapproval was almost too much to bear.
Her father’s fingers tightened on hers. “But I have already lost one child. I will not drive another away.”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate. She looked at him, her heart lifting.
“Whatever you decide, Rachel, your mamm and I will support you. If you must go before the elders, we will stand with you.”
“Denke, Daadi.” Her throat choked with tears.
He put his arm around her and drew her close. She buried her face in his shoulder, feeling the fabric of his shirt against her cheek, inhaling the familiar scent that had always meant safety and comfort.
Daadi might not believe in her dreams, but he would stand with her anyway. Maybe that would be enough.
• • •
Gideon tightened a last bolt and glanced at the sky. He’d stayed longer than he’d intended at Rachel’s today. Before the accident, he’d have been able to finish this part of the job in a few hours. Looked as if he wasn’t up to his normal speed yet.
It will come. Please, God, let my strength return so that I can do my work.
He started to climb down, his bad leg protesting from the effort. Halfway down, he paused to give it a rest.
Movement from the ground caught his eye. Joseph, it was, over at the goat’s pen as usual. That boy was certainly devoted to his pet.
Even as Gideon thought that, Joseph took a quick step backward, away from the pen, arms pressing rigid against his sides. He whirled, racing toward the house.
“Mammi! Mammi, komm! Schnell!”
Something was wrong, or he’d not be crying for his mother that way. Gideon made quick work of the rest of the trip and unhooked the harness. By the time Rachel and Joseph had rushed to the pen, he’d reached it, too.
Joseph grabbed his hand. “Something’s wrong with Dolly. Look at her.”
“Let us see,” Rachel said, exchanging a glance with him. She moved Joseph away from the pen door and opened it. She paused, hand on the door. “Gideon?” There was a question in her voice. “You know more about goats than either of us does.”
He pried the boy’s fingers from his hand and knelt beside her at the pen door. “I couldn’t live on Aaron’s farm without picking up a bit. Let’s have a look.”
The little Nubian lay on her side near the pen opening, panting. He expected her to rise when he reached for her, but she just looked at him with what almost seemed like confidence in her eyes.
“There, now.” He stroked his hand down her side. “What’s going on here?”
The answer came as soon as the words were out of his mouth. A shudder rippled through her under the pressure of his palm—an unmistakable contraction.
He kept his hand there until the contraction eased off. He patted the little goat. “Well, Joseph, I think Dolly is about to become a mammi. That’s what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”
The boy nodded, eyes wide. “The twins are coming. Ain’t so, Gideon?”
“They are for sure.”
Rachel rested her hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “You have the box stall all ready for her. Let’s move her into the barn now.”
Joseph started to reach for the goat. He stopped, seeming not to know how to move her, and gave Gideon a pleading look.
“Won’t she walk if you lead her?” Rachel said, holding the pen door wide.
Joseph took hold of the thin collar the goat wore, that looked, for all the world, like a pet dog’s. “Komm, Dolly. Komm.”
The goat struggled, legs waving, seeming unable to get to her feet.
“Suppose I carry her,” Gideon said quickly. He didn’t like the look of that, but no sense in alarming the boy if it wasn’t necessary.
Joseph nodded, his breath coming out in a whoosh of relief. He stepped back so that Gideon could reach into the pen.
He slid his hands under the goat, moving gently so as not to frighten her, and lifted her out. His leg grumbled a bit as he rose, cradling the goat against his body.
“Lead the way, Joseph.”
The boy rushed to the barn door, knocking his straw hat off in his hurry to slide it open. He scooped up the hat and raced to open the door to one of the box stalls.
The stall had been cleaned, he’d guess, to the last inch, and a fresh bed of straw covered the wooden planks. Gideon knelt, depositing the goat on the straw that Joseph fluffed up. The boy promptly sat down next to her.
“Joseph, she can probably do this part without you. Komm. Supper is ready.”
Joseph’s face crumpled at his mamm’s words. “I can’t leave her. She needs me.” He reached toward Gideon, tugging on his pant leg. “You’ll stay, won’t you, Gideon?”
“I’m sure Gideon has much to do—” Rachel began, but he interrupted her.
“It’s fine. I’m glad to stay.” He sat down on the floor next to Joseph and leaned back against the side of the stall.
Rachel’s face lit with gratitude. A man would do a lot for a smile like that, not that he wouldn’t have stayed anyway, since Joseph seemed to need him.
“Well, if you won’t come in for supper, I’ll bring something out for the two of you.” Her gaze met his. “Denke, Gideon,” she said.
When she’d left, the barn seemed steeped in stillness. The big draft horses, who were the only other occupants, watched them curiously for a few minutes and then turned back to their feed buckets.
Joseph stroked Dolly’s head. “What do we do now, Gideon?”
“Now we wait.” He settled himself as comfortably as he could. “First births can take a while, and there’s nothing to do for Dolly but let nature take its course.”
• • •
An hour later, he’d begun to wonder if nature was going to be enough. He lit a lantern to chase away the gathering shadows so that he could get a better look at Dolly.
The little goat seemed to be struggling, and this wasn’t progressing nearly as fast as the other births he’d seen working with Aaron’s herd.
Rachel came in again while he was trying to urge Dolly to her feet. She studied his face, seeming to look past the facade he kept up for the boy.
She took Joseph by the shoulders. “I want you to go into the house now.”
“But Mammi, Dolly needs me.” His hand lingered on the little goat’s head.
She hesitated a moment, and then knelt beside him. “You may come back out again. But I want you to say good night to Mary. Then go to the shed and get some of the empty feed bags that are on the shelf. We might need them when the kids come.”
Joseph’s small face lit with the prospect of something helpful to do. “I’ll do it, Mammi. Schnell.” He scrambled to his feet and raced for the door.
Rachel swung toward him as soon as Joseph was gone. “Something is wrong.”
“I’m not sure.” He gave up the effort and let the little doe rest on her side again. “I thought standing might help things along, but she doesn’t seem to have the strength for it.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
He spread his hands, hating feeling helpless. “Once she starts pushing, we may be able to help. I’ve done that often enough with Aaron’s herd. Until then—I don’t think there’s anything.”
“If we were to lose her, Joseph would take it so hard.” Her lips twisted, as if she fought not to cry. “I can’t bear for him to lose something else he loves.”
“It’s not come to that.” Gideon reached out his hand and she took it, fingers twining tightly. “Goats are like people, I guess. Sometimes the first babe is a long time in coming.” His thoughts flickered to his wife, his babe, and he yanked them away.
“Yes, of course.” She took a breath, straightening. “I shouldn’t be so foolish. But—do you think I’m right in letting him stay out here?”
She’d never asked his advice on anything to do with her children before. He’d best have the right answer.
“What would he do if you sent him inside?”
“Wait. Worry. Fret.” She gave a slight shrug. “You’re right. That would be worse than letting him feel he’s helping.”
“That’s how you’d feel, ain’t so?”
She nodded, bending to stroke the little doe’s side. “Be strong, Dolly,” she murmured.
“Here I am.” Joseph burst in, burdened with a flashlight and an armload of feed bags. “Did anything happen?”
“Not yet.” Rachel brushed his hair from his eyes. “It’ll be a little while yet. You do as Gideon says. I’ll be back out after I get Mary to bed.”
Joseph nodded solemnly and came to sit next to Gideon. Once Rachel had gone, the barn seemed too quiet, too lone
ly. Was he right in encouraging the boy to stay? Joseph had certainly seen animals give birth before. He wouldn’t be frightened by what was normal.
“Gideon?” Joseph rested his head against Gideon’s sleeve. “Dolly isn’t going to die, is she?”
“I hope not.”
“But it shouldn’t take this long, should it?”
“It does seem like a long time.” He wouldn’t lie to the boy. “But things may start to happen very fast. Kidding goes that way sometimes.”
Joseph’s face moved against his sleeve. “I love her,” he whispered. “I loved Daadi lots, lots more, but I love her, too. I don’t want her to die like Daadi did.”
“I know.” Gideon put his arm around the boy. He was skinny, like Ezra had been at that age, with sharp little bones that seemed fragile under Gideon’s touch. A wave of protectiveness swept through him, so strong it scared him.
What was he doing, feeling this powerful a caring for another man’s son? He’d set out to help Ezra’s wife and children, thinking only of the debt he owed to Ezra.
He’d never imagined they’d become so dear to him. Too dear. How would he live with himself if he failed them, too?
• • •
Rachel paused before she reached the barn on her return, lifting her face toward the sky. Pinpoints of light clustered thick as clover in the meadow. The nearly full moon seemed fat with promise. Was it true, then, the old idea that the full moon brought on birth?
Please, Father. I don’t know what Your will is for this little creature, but I ask Your guidance for helping Joseph to deal with whatever happens tonight. Thank You, that You’ve provided Gideon to aid us.
A few more steps brought her to the door. Again she hesitated, this time caught by what she could see inside. The glow of the lantern echoed the glow of the moon, illuminating the stall. Gideon sat, his back against the rough boards, and Joseph leaned against him, his head snuggled into Gideon’s broad chest. The man’s arm curved protectively around his shoulders.
Her throat constricted. Gideon was doing what Ezra would have in this situation. Did he even realize how wonderful gut he was with the children?
Gideon’s attention seemed to sharpen on something out of her line of vision—no doubt Dolly. He moved, Joseph moving with him. As if it had been a signal, she scurried inside.
