The Harvest of Grace

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “Maybe she will. Even if not, I think you’re right to try. I knew when she got home yesterday that she’d found out. She took to bed immediately, made me swear I wouldn’t tell her parents or sisters what was going on, and kicked me out of the bedroom until further notice.”

  It surprised her that Beckie hadn’t told their parents or sisters. Beckie held the power to make them all hate her while gaining sympathy for herself for years to come. Wasn’t she going to use it?

  Sylvia started up the brick walkway.

  “Sylvia.”

  She turned back to Elam.

  “I’m sorry for the way I broke up with you, for the way I took over your responsibilities of running the farm, for taking advantage of your loneliness when you were just trying to do the right thing by Beckie and your family.”

  Her heaviness lifted a bit. But she’d thought it had been her idea to give up her farm duties piece by piece to avoid coming into contact with him. It sounded as if he’d planned that.

  Aaron would never have done that to anyone, least of all her. Even when he had no feelings for her, he’d made sure she understood his plan. No manipulation. But plenty of stubborn concern—that she worked too hard, kept herself from making friends, and had turned away from God. And he worried where she’d land when he sold the farm.

  Her anger had blinded her. If he’d thought contacting Beckie would have been truly bad for her, he wouldn’t have done it.

  She tried to free her thoughts of Aaron. “I’ve asked forgiveness from God, and I’ll give it to you.” She hoped God liked her a lot more than she liked Elam. “I’m going to see Beckie.”

  As Sylvia walked toward Beckie’s home, Lilly rounded the side of the house with a bowl in her hands.

  “Sylvia!” Her face lit up. She hurried to the steps and set down the bowl before running to Sylvia and engulfing her in a hug. “Oh, you’re home.” She squeezed her tight. “For good?”

  Sylvia returned the warm embrace. Concern that her father would refuse to let her leave again—and that he’d insist on gaining control of her once he learned of her sin—lifted. She wasn’t staying. “No, just for a few days.”

  Lilly took a step back. “Don’t you dare leave again without giving me your address. If I have it, I might be able to talk him into letting all us girls write. If not, I’ll wait until I’m in my rumschpringe. He won’t even try to stop me then.” She glanced back at the house. “Beckie came home yesterday so sick she went straight to bed. We figured the heat was too much on her, driving that distance and being pregnant. I was bringing her some of Mamm’s famous chicken noodle soup.”

  “I’ll take it to her. Where are her little ones?”

  “We’re keeping them at our house until she feels better.”

  “Tell Mamm and Daed I’ll be up to see them later, but I need to see Beckie first.”

  Lilly’s eyes shone bright. “I’ll make your favorite dinner. Will you be ready to eat in a few hours?”

  She doubted it, but she squeezed Lilly close. “Absolutely. Denki, Lilly.”

  Sylvia took the bowl of soup into the house with her, grabbed a spoon from a drawer, and went to Beckie’s bedroom door. She tapped and heard movement, but Beckie didn’t respond. Sylvia eased the door open. Beckie lay curled in a ball, staring at the wall.

  “Beckie, honey?” Her sister stirred a bit. “Are you hungry? Mamm made you some soup.”

  Beckie slowly worked her way to a sitting position. She still wore the clothes from yesterday as well as her prayer Kapp. But it was a good sign that she hadn’t screamed at Sylvia or thrown anything—yet.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Sylvia set the bowl on the table. “I came to beg forgiveness.”

  Beckie scowled. “Get out.”

  “I’m not leaving. If you need to drag me in front of the whole family and humiliate me so your anger will subside, then do so. But I won’t leave until I’ve eased your pain … and forgiveness would be really nice too.”

  Beckie stared at her. “I have no words to begin to tell you what you’ve done to me.”

  Sylvia knelt beside the bed. “I can’t begin to explain the depth of my sorrow.”

  Beckie looked the other way, clenched her fists, and crossed her arms tightly. The minutes ticked by, and Sylvia remained on her knees.

  “Im Gott sei Lieb,” Sylvia whispered. In God’s love. It was their phrase, the one they used to say in bed after talking about everything—their joys and hopes and fears and anger.

  Beckie jumped as if Sylvia had startled her. Tears welled in Beckie’s eyes, but she said nothing.

  Every night, no matter what was happening around them, they had put it all in His hands and had fallen asleep believing every good thing came from His hand and every bad thing that happened or that they did could be engulfed by His love. They weren’t little girls anymore, and their ability to sin seemed to have grown along with their bodies, but had God’s love gotten any smaller?

  Beckie patted the side of the bed. “Get off your knees, Sister.”

  Sylvia moved to the edge of the mattress. Beckie struggled to speak. Her hair was a mess, which was unlike her. Sylvia went into the bathroom, retrieved a hairbrush, and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. Her sister shifted, allowing Sylvia room to get behind her. Sylvia removed the straight pins that held the Kapp in place, then took out the various hairpins, slowly unwinding her golden locks.

  Sylvia brushed her sister’s hair. “It’d be nice if we could untangle life the way we can untangle the knots in our hair.”

  Tears fell from Beckie’s eyes. “I started something with Elam because I wanted to steal him from you.”

  Sylvia’s heart jerked wildly, but she continued to brush her sister’s long locks.

  Beckie wiped her nose on the wadded mess of tissue in her hands. “My plan worked out well, don’t you think?”

  Sylvia kissed the back of her sister’s head. “He loves you, Beckie.”

  Silence hung between them while Sylvia pinned her sister’s hair into a bun. Then Sylvia picked up the bowl and spooned up some broth.

  After Beckie took a bite, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t hate you like I said. I know I carry some of the blame too.”

  Her sister’s graciousness caught Sylvia off guard, but it explained why Beckie hadn’t told their parents and sisters.

  She swallowed another spoonful of soup. “I need you. Now more than ever.”

  “I can’t stay. We both know that. Besides, you’re a grown woman well capable of taking care of yourself and your family.” Sylvia continued to spoon-feed her sister.

  “It’s true what Daed said, isn’t it? I relied too heavily on you.”

  Needing a moment to adjust her thinking, Sylvia set the bowl to the side. “Ya, and I let you.”

  Beckie smoothed the sheet across her lap. “Can you and me and Elam work this out somehow … enough so you could come home?”

  “This isn’t my farm anymore, and I don’t want it to be. Besides, I don’t belong here. I started out with a dream.” Understanding began to trickle in, and she longed for it to pour like last week’s gullywashers. “Actually, I started out with what I thought was a dream. I wanted to be a strong, capable woman unlike any other Amish woman I knew. But what I really wanted was to find someone who respected my thoughts and skills. Someone who wanted an equal partner, not a farmhand.” She took Beckie’s face into her hands. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Beckie passed her a tissue. “I knew better than to try to take Elam from you. What kind of a sister does that? I’ll tell you—one who’s spoiled and selfish and jealous and a host of other things it’s taken me years to figure out.”

  “And love was mixed in with those reasons too, ya?”

  “I’m not convinced it was.” Beckie’s eyes moved to the bedroom doorway and stayed there. “For either of us.”

  Sylvia turned toward the door to see Elam standing there.

  “Sylvia,”—he r
emoved his hat and entered the room—“I need to talk with Beckie alone, please.”

  Sylvia rose and quietly slipped out of the house.

  Thirty-Seven

  Cara tapped the reins against the horse’s back as she headed for Ephraim’s. He wanted them to come to the shop around lunchtime today, so she and Lori had spent the night at Lena’s. With her dad working extra while Sylvia was gone, it was easier to stay in Dry Lake than to try to get back and forth.

  “You’re getting better at handling a rig, Mom.”

  “Denki.”

  Cara had spent the travel time finally admitting that Trevor wasn’t just a man the church leaders wanted her to be nice to. She also explained to Lori who each person in Ephraim’s family would become to her after the wedding. Since arriving in Dry Lake and learning she had relatives here, Cara had continually balked at telling Lori about family relationships, in part because it was painful to explain and in part because it was so confusing. Most of all, Cara never trusted how long these people would remain in their lives. Why tell Lori about Trevor if he might up and disappear, hurting her in the process? But now Cara knew that as long as illness or some other unforeseen issue didn’t interfere, Trevor would always be near, and she was actually thankful for that.

  Lori wiped sweat from her little nose. “I didn’t have any grandpas, and once you and ’From get married, I’m gonna have two.”

  Cara mulled over the Pennsylvania Dutch language until she came up with the right words for You have one Amish grandfather and one Englischer grandfather. “Du hab eens Daadi un eens Grandpa. Ya?”

  Lori’s eyes grew large, and she giggled. “Wunderbaar, Mom! ’From will be proud of you.” Lori brushed a fly away from her face. “I don’t think I’ll always call him ’From. After you marry him, he’ll be my Daed.”

  Her daughter sounded so mature. Cara couldn’t help but enjoy the idea of having babies.

  After pulling into the driveway, she brought the carriage to a halt. Lori jumped down and ran into the shop. In a few months her daughter would be as comfortable with Ephraim’s family as if she’d been born into it. For that, Cara would be eternally grateful.

  Grey stepped outside. “Hi, Cara. Ephraim’s finishing up a business call.” He took the horse by the reins. “I’ll tend to her.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped close to him so she could speak softly. “How’s Lena?”

  His grin gave him away. “As beautiful and amazing as ever, even from a distance. I expect I’ll have a letter from her in my mailbox when I arrive home this evening.”

  “I’m glad you and Lena at least have the mail to make your relationship a little easier. How much longer before you two can court?”

  “Seven weeks. Maybe a little more if Lennie feels Michael and Dora need it.” He didn’t sound the least bit perturbed at having to wait for his former in-laws to be ready.

  “And you don’t mind her calling the shots on the timing?”

  He smiled. “Lennie has insight and instincts that I’d be a fool to discount. Besides, she’ll trust me without question in other areas over the years.” He pointed toward the shop where Ephraim was talking to Lori. “He’s off the phone.”

  “Thanks, Grey.”

  Ephraim walked toward her, holding Lori’s hand. “How about if the three of us have a late lunch in the hiddy?”

  “I didn’t bring any food.”

  Lori covered her mouth, snickering.

  A conspiratorial look passed between Ephraim and Lori. He lifted his straw hat for a moment and wiped his brow. “I knew I was forgetting something.” He replaced his hat and held out his hand. “Kumm.”

  Cara refused to take his hand. “What’s going on, ’From?”

  He looked at his empty palm and then to her. “I never would’ve taken you for a stick-in-the-mud.”

  She slid her hand into his. They crossed the wide berth between his shop and his home. Once on the far side of his house, they went toward his hiddy. It stood surrounded by hedges on three sides and open to a pasture on the fourth. A porch swing hung from the branch of a huge tree. He used this hidden place to relax and stargaze, and she looked forward to the day when they could come here at will, without concern for how it might look to others.

  Lori ran through the man-made opening in the hedges. She gasped and clapped her hands. “Yes!”

  Cara eyed Ephraim. He’d done something. He shrugged and motioned for Cara to enter ahead of him.

  She stepped through the opening and spotted a blanket spread on the ground with two picnic baskets on it.

  “Look, Mom. It’s a surprise.”

  Cara turned to Ephraim.

  He smiled. “Surprise.”

  “Uh, yeah, but why?”

  “My stepmom made it for us. It’s filled with traditional foods served at weddings.”

  Ada had been explaining Amish wedding dishes to Cara. “This was really thoughtful.”

  Ephraim sat on the blanket beside Lori. Cara joined him.

  They tasted all the different foods, and Ephraim explained what they were. The roasted chicken and mashed potatoes seemed usual enough, but she’d never tasted cooked celery. It was sweet and had the consistency of a relish, only she couldn’t imagine eating a relish as a side dish. There were several types of salads along with cheeses, cold cuts, breads, and lots of desserts. She could see why these foods were served at weddings.

  The meal was simple and delicious. They talked and ate. This would be home in a few months.

  Ephraim winked at her. “We did it, Cara.”

  Cara loved him enough to last a dozen lifetimes. “Yeah, and all it took was a shunning, a reconciliation, a salvation, learning two languages, forgiving Dad, and a partridge in a pear tree.”

  “And a God who knew how to weave it all together.”

  She inched her fingers across the blanket until they found his. “I love you.”

  His eyes searched hers, telling her he knew her well. “I know,” he whispered hoarsely.

  She intertwined her fingers with his. “Even though the words may never come easy, loving you does. And I’m determined to find other ways to let you know how much I love you every day for the rest of my life.”

  The cabinetry shop echoed with the taps of hammers and the rasping of hand sanders. There was no hint of finishing early today, even though it was Friday.

  Grey opened the leather pouch that held his set of carving tools. He picked out a 35 mm bent gouge and began making a design on a cabinet door. One of the many things he appreciated about this job was that it made good use of his artistic skills.

  He hovered over the walnut panel, carving an intricate pattern reminiscent of something from the eighteen hundreds—per the customer’s request. Wood shavings curled as he carved, and he brushed them to the floor.

  “Grey,” Ephraim called to him.

  “Ya,” he answered without lifting his head. He finished sculpting the tiny section he’d begun and then looked up.

  Ephraim stood in the double-wide doorway, talking with Michael Blank. If Michael had come to the shop specifically to see Grey, the topic must be important. Grey wiped off the tool with a clean cloth and slid it back into the leather pouch, then walked toward them.

  The last time Michael had come to speak with him, he was displeased with Grey for not agreeing with him and the rest of the school board about letting Lena go. Michael had been Grey’s father-in-law for six years, and Grey knew he easily recognized when others were wrong but rarely saw his own part in an issue. They had politely butted heads on more than one occasion.

  Before Grey closed the gap between them, Ephraim said his good-byes and returned to sanding an oak cabinet.

  “Michael.” Grey extended his hand.

  Michael took Grey’s hand and pulled him close. “Have you see Aaron?” he whispered.

  “Not today. Is there a problem?”

  Michael stepped back, holding his forehead while staring at the floor. “We … argued.” He cleared his throa
t. “But that was before daylight, and I haven’t seen him since.”

  It was almost time for the shop to close for the day, so Aaron had been gone at least twelve hours. “He’s not been here. If he needed to talk, you might try Lena’s place.”

  “I’ve already gone there. She hasn’t talked to him. I spoke with Trevor too. He didn’t take him anywhere.”

  “What does Sylvia think?”

  Michael glanced behind him, clearly checking to see if anyone had moved within hearing distance.

  “Kumm.” Grey motioned toward the office. They went inside, and he closed the door. Michael still looked uncomfortable. Grey closed the blinds on the windows between the office and the shop.

  Michael’s hands trembled as he removed his hat. “Sylvia is devoted to the farm, but she left early this morning, saying she needed to visit her folks. She wouldn’t explain why. She’s not even sure if she’ll be able to return. I don’t understand.”

  Grey motioned to a chair.

  Michael shook his head and paced the small room. “Aaron said him and me are just like me and my Daed, only worse.” His eyes revealed pain and confusion. “Is it true? Am I just like my father?”

  “I’ve only seen him a couple of times.” The man had come to Grey and Elsie’s wedding and returned for her funeral. Elsie never said much about anything, including the family they’d left in Ohio.

  Michael dropped into a chair and stared at the ground, his shoulders stooped. “My Daed made decisions, and you could agree or get out. Is that how Aaron sees me?”

  “Maybe he just needs time to cool off.” Grey knew Michael feared that Aaron had left for good or that he’d started drinking again—or both.

  Michael shook his head. “This morning Aaron said he was going to get money out of the appliance store and give it to me, to help the farm run better. Now I can’t find him.”

  “Let’s call the appliance store and the Better Path. Maybe he got there another way.” Grey picked up the receiver and dialed information. Once he had the phone numbers, he placed the calls and pressed the button for the speakerphone so Michael could hear the conversations.