by Jan Drexler
Margli didn’t look up from the complex design she was attempting with the yarn. “Grossdawdi Isaac got married again. He met Grossmutti Fanny, and she was William and Suzanne’s new memmi.”
Annalise felt faint as the wagon lurched again. Was she going to be sick? She rubbed at her belly, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass. These spells were coming often, almost every day. She should speak to Mary Nafsinger about them.
William wiggled. “The Indians, Memmi.”
“Ja, the Indians.” She rubbed at the small of her back. “The Indians were friends with the Amish settlers at Northkill. The settlers shared their food with them and never threatened them with a gun. They lived in peace for many years.”
“But then war came.” Peter continued the story.
“Ja, war came. Some Indians fought for the French and tried to drive all the settlers off of their land. One night, a group of Indian soldiers attacked the Hochstetler family. After that, Grossdawdi Isaac moved to the Conestoga with his family.”
“He built the log cabin.”
“Ja. And the smokehouse and the barn. But William, his son, built the house.” The lovely house on the Conestoga. Annalise sighed and pushed her fist into her back, right above her hip bone, where the twinges of pain always started and radiated down her leg.
“And William was Jacob’s father, and then Grossdawdi Jacob was Daed’s father,” Peter said.
“Ja, that’s right.” Annalise heard her own voice as though through layers of wool batting. A gray haze covered her vision, and then all went black.
Annalise opened her eyes to see Christian leaning over her.
“Annalise, are you all right?”
“Did I fall asleep?” She was lying on the floor of the wagon, looking up at her family. Margli’s face was white.
“You fainted. When you fell off the bench, the children called me.”
Annalise tried to sit up, but Christian held his hand on her shoulder.
“How long have I been lying here?”
“Not long. I sent Peter to get Mary Nafsinger.”
Annalise relaxed. Mary’s midwife skills would help her know what was wrong with her. She rubbed her stomach as the baby kicked. At least she knew it was safe and well.
Christian sent the children outside when Mary came. The rain had settled into a light drizzle, so they would get wet, but not soaked through. Hannah would take care of them.
“Peter said you took a tumble right onto the floor,” Mary said.
She motioned for Christian to help her and they brought Annalise to a sitting position.
Annalise tried to smile at Mary, but her mouth trembled. “I think I fainted.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Better.” Tears filled Annalise’s eyes. “I don’t know why, but I feel very weak.”
At a look from Mary, Christian left the wagon, leaving Annalise alone with the midwife.
“Do you feel like you can sit on the bench?”
Annalise looked at the board she had fallen from. It seemed as high as a mountain peak. “Maybe. If you’ll help me.”
Mary supported Annalise’s arm as she slowly got to her feet. But instead of sitting on the bench, Annalise lay down on her pallet on top of some boxes. She nearly started crying again when she saw the concerned look on Mary’s face.
“You told me you don’t expect the baby until summer, ja?”
“Not until July, I thought. But then you thought it could come as early as May.”
“The babe is quite large. Do you feel any of the birthing pangs? Even small ones?”
“Small ones, but nothing strong enough to make me think my time has come.”
Mary peered at her face, feeling her cheek with the back of her hand. “Your color is coming back, so that is good. Lying down seems to be helping.” She leaned back and looked at Annalise’s stomach. “I need to feel the babe, to make sure all is well. Please turn onto your back.”
Annalise tried to remain still as Mary gently felt the tight round ball of her belly.
“Do you feel the babe kick much?”
“All the time. I don’t think this one ever sleeps.”
“Um-hmm. Ja, for sure.” The older woman straightened up. “Have you considered that there might be more than one babe?”
“More than one?” Annalise pushed herself to a sitting position. “Do you mean twins?”
Mary smiled. “Could be. All the signs point that way.”
“Is that why I fainted?”
Mary’s smile faded. “The strain of two babies is hard on your body. You need to rest more, eat better, and stop riding in this bumpy wagon. It could bring on an early birth.”
Annalise pressed a hand against her stomach. “Are they in danger? Could we . . . could we lose them, even before they’re born?”
The midwife sat next to her on the pallet and placed her own hand on the babies. “Yes, there is a danger, a danger to all three of you. We are close to my son’s farm. Daniel said we should reach it by tomorrow. I think if you make it that far, then you should stay there until your time comes.”
Annalise bowed her head, rubbing her swollen belly. God couldn’t take these babies too. He couldn’t.
Even though it was only midafternoon, Peter came running down the road to Jacob and the sheep with the news.
“We’re camping just up ahead for the night.”
“Why? We could go another few miles today, even with the rain.”
“Mamm took ill. She fell on the floor, and Daed said we’re not going any farther today.”
Mamm. Jacob shoved his crook at Peter. “Look after the sheep, and bring them up to the wagons. I’m going to see what’s happening.”
Jacob sprinted toward the wagons, running through the wet grass alongside the muddy, rutted road. When he reached the Bontragers’ wagon, he slowed. How ill was Mamm? He changed course and stopped at the small green wagon. Hannah would know.
He scratched at the canvas wagon cover. “Hannah?”
“Just a minute.” Her voice was nearly a whisper, it was so soft. She climbed out of the wagon, closing a flap of canvas over the front opening. “I just got William to take a nap. Peter told you about Mamm?”
“All he said was that she took ill. Is she all right?”
Hannah laid a hand on his arm. “She’s all right, and the babies are too.”
“Babies?”
“Mary says there are twins, and that’s why she’s been having a hard time. But she’s all right now, and resting.”
“But Peter said we were camping here tonight. Why can’t we continue on if Mamm’s all right?”
Hannah’s eyes looked tired and worried.
“Is there more you aren’t telling me?”
“Ne, nothing more. But Mary said Mamm shouldn’t travel any farther until the babies are born.”
Stay in Ohio? Jacob shook his head, trying to clear it. “I need to talk to Daed.”
“The men are gathered up by the Schrocks’ wagon. They’re talking about it now.”
Jacob found the group of men discussing the issue, just as Hannah said. The circle parted to allow him to join, and as he looked from face to face, his panic subsided. They were part of a community. These families would face this complication with them, giving help and advice, and supporting Daed’s decision, whatever it was.
“Jacob,” Daed said. He stood on the opposite side of the circle, flanked by Josef and Elias Hertzler. “You’ve heard the news?”
“Hannah told me.”
“I was just telling everyone else that I will stay in Ohio until the end of the summer. We will stay with the settlers there, and join the rest of our group in Indiana by September.”
September? They would be in no position to survive the winter in a fledgling settlement if they arrived that late in the season. Jacob glanced around the circle. Every man was looking at him.
“I can’t risk the journey, Son. Not with your mamm in such a condition.”
Daniel Nafsinger ended th
e impromptu meeting with a prayer, and then the men separated to take care of the business of setting up the camp. Andrew made his way across the disintegrating circle to him.
“I’m sorry about your mamm, and that your family is having such trouble.”
Jacob looked into Andrew’s eyes, but the usual mocking glint was gone. “How long will you stay in Ohio before heading on to Indiana?”
“I heard Eli Schrock say that they plan to rest for a week. The women want to do laundry, once this rainy weather clears. And we all need to rest and have some real food to eat.”
Jacob scanned the groups of people working to set up the camp, but Mattie wasn’t in sight.
“Don’t worry about Mattie, Jacob. I’ll take care of her for you.”
This time the glint was there. He couldn’t leave Mattie in Andrew’s care. She could be married to the man by the time Jacob made it to Indiana.
14
The rain ended overnight, and a radiant dawn lifted everyone’s spirits. Mattie had chosen to ride in the spring wagon with her sisters-in-law, Miriam and Emma, and their little girls since the trail was still muddy in the ruts.
Glancing behind her at Jacob urging the muddy sheep along the trail behind the wagons, she shifted in her seat. Avoiding the mud was only part of the reason for her decision to ride in the spring wagon. Avoiding Jacob was the biggest part. Since the evening he had asked for her pledge, the weather had been rainy. No one lingered over their cold meals and there was no campfire for the young people to gather around at night. The more time passed, the more reluctant she was to give Jacob an answer. Whatever she decided, she would have to live with it for the rest of her life. She bounced three-year-old Leah on her knee. It might as well be forever.
The sun was only halfway until noon when they came to the first Amish farm along the road.
Daed, in the lead wagon, halted the caravan and shouted a greeting. “Hallo.”
An Amish man flanked by two young boys appeared in the barn door. He waved his answer, then came to the side of the road to speak with Daed. Mattie took in the comfortable-looking frame house, with outbuildings scattered in the open area around a stone, two-story barn. If all the farms were as prosperous as this one, then Ohio must be a good place to live.
The man gestured down the road, the way they were traveling, then indicated a turn to the right. With a final wave, Daed started his team again, and they were on their way. As Emma drove the spring wagon past the farm, Mattie waved to the man’s wife, who had come to the door of the house. The woman leaned over the Dutch door, waving in reply. She had set a little boy on the bottom half of the door, but he wasn’t watching the wagons. He pointed toward a girl about Leah’s and Mary’s age who was throwing grain to the chickens pecking in the gravel path that led from the door to the barn. It all looked so clean and picturesque, and the hominess of it all made Mattie turn in her seat to keep the little farm in view after they drove by.
As she turned to face the front again, she swallowed a lump in her throat. Would a home like that ever be in her future? The desire to go west made her heart race, but a home . . . Jacob had said he wanted a home that he would never have to leave. A home for his children and grandchildren through the generations to come. At times like this, she could understand his dream, and the longing to join him was so great it made her bones ache.
She rubbed at her elbows, and then helped three-year-old Mary climb onto her other knee. Hugging both little girls close, she smiled, banishing her mood.
“We’ll be there soon, I think.” Miriam leaned to the right, trying to see beyond Daed’s wagon ahead.
“The Nafsingers’ son lives near Walnut Creek, doesn’t he?” Mattie asked, trying to remember the details of the adults’ conversations over the past couple of weeks.
“Just a little north, Daniel said.” Emma pointed ahead, where Daed was turning onto another road heading to the right. “Here’s our turn.”
The road leading to the north was narrower than the one they left, and led up a hill, then down into a long valley on the other side. At the bottom of the valley was a creek, swollen and brown from the recent rains. Farms spread out on both sides of the road with freshly plowed fields and open meadows separated by wood lots. Here and there along the valley were more of the white frame houses like the one they had just passed. Mattie counted four farms in this valley alone. The Ohio settlement seemed to be as large as the one in Somerset County.
Daed turned into the lane leading to the second farm on the left. The lane forded the creek at a shallow spot where gravel had been laid to make the way smooth, and then wound up a slope to the buildings. Hills rose above the house and barn, and cows dotted the meadow beyond the barn. Before they stopped the wagons, the family came out of the house. Mattie glanced behind her to the small green wagon, where the Nafsingers were riding. Mary stood at the front opening of the wagon, waving. Josef halted the team, and the old couple were in the arms of their son and daughter-in-law.
Mattie swallowed back tears at the sight of Mary’s face, until she saw the three grandchildren hiding behind their mother’s skirts. Then as Mary’s face crumpled into tears, Mattie let hers flow too. Mary’s tears of joy were contagious as she met her grandchildren for the first time.
Daniel’s son left the reunion long enough to point out their camping spot, a clear area just north of the barn, and then rejoined his family as the wagons drove on.
“What a happy sight!” Miriam sighed. “The Nafsingers have never met their grandchildren, have they?”
Mattie shook her head. “And there are two other families for them to meet. I think Mary said their other son and their daughter each have five children.”
“They all live close by?”
“I don’t know, but I hope so.”
Making camp was leisurely that afternoon since they had arrived at their destination so early. Mattie looked for Jacob, but he was busy settling the sheep in the upper pasture. After that, she saw him in the barnyard with the other young men, setting up tables and benches in a level spot.
After getting their wagon set up and everything comfortable for their stay, Mattie looked out over the valley from their camping spot halfway up the hill. Walnut Creek had been settled almost thirty-five years ago, and much of the thick forest had been cleared. She could see the road they had traveled on winding away back to the south and then east. It showed again on the crest of a hill in the distance but disappeared as it tumbled down the other side. Everything looked settled and peaceful, like the vision Jacob had for his home in Indiana.
A twisting, uncomfortable thought made her move her gaze away from the road. Somewhere back there to the east was Cole Bates. Turning the thought over in her head, as she had many times in the days since she last saw him, gave the same awful pleasure as scratching a mosquito bite. He was forbidden, worldly, and not someone she should hold in her thoughts. But the very danger she should flee from called to her. A man like Cole Bates would never settle for a neat, white frame house on a little farm.
Jacob followed Ulrich Nafsinger up the slope behind the barn.
“Your sheep will do well in the upper pasture, I think.”
Jacob lengthened his strides to keep up with the youngest of Daniel and Mary’s sons. “You’ve heard that our family will need to stay on until autumn, haven’t you? Will that be a problem?”
“Not at all.” Ulrich bent and swung between the fence rails. “We’ll enjoy the company. Your daed said you’ll need a lambing pen.” He gestured toward the southeast corner of the meadow where the fence ran under the shelter of some overhanging trees. “That spot will be protected, and since it slopes toward the southeast, your sheep will have the advantage of the sunlight. The rest of the meadow is well-fenced, with plenty of grass for both the sheep and my cows.”
“Denki. We’ll bring the flock up right away and get them settled.”
Ulrich led the way back down the slope. “You’ll be staying here with your folks, then?”
“I thought you’d be anxious to get on to Indiana.”
Jacob pushed his smoldering resentment into the background. Daed needed him here. Building his new life in Indiana would have to wait. “I admit I’m disappointed that I’m not going with the others—” he paused as he caught sight of Mattie near the wagons, playing with her young nieces—“but it can’t be helped.”
Meanwhile, Mattie would go on to Indiana without him. He hadn’t talked with her since he asked for her pledge along the Ohio River, and he had no idea what she might be thinking. It would be so simple for her to agree, and they could make their plans. She could stay here in Ohio until autumn, so they could court properly.
If only she would give him her pledge, and he could trust her to keep it. He blew out a whooshing breath. He had thought of confiding in Daed several times in the last few days, but he already knew the advice he’d get: Wait for God, be content with what he has given so far, and pray.
Waiting had never been so hard.
Supper was ready by the time Jacob, Peter, and Margli, along with Henry’s and Andrew’s help, had gotten the sheep into Ulrich’s pasture. Jacob waited until the sheep were grazing and Bam had explored the entire meadow. When the ram settled in to grazing also, Jacob joined the other men at the tables.
Moses Stutzman, Daniel’s son-in-law, leaned his elbows on the table and took a forkful of schnitz pie. “How are things going in Pennsylvania?”
Eli Schrock glanced at Moses as he cut the point off his own piece of pie. “What do you mean?”
“I mean since the conference in your district there in Somerset County, the Glades, six years ago. The ministers put down some harsh rulings, didn’t they?”
Daed leaned forward, his forearms bracketing his plate and his fork grasped in one hand. “It depends on what you mean by harsh, Brother Moses.”
Moses shrugged. “I think it’s a hard thing when we shun our own members who choose to join one of our sister churches, the Mennonites or the Dunkards. It isn’t as if they’ve joined a church that teaches infant baptism rather than believer’s baptism.”
