by Ruth Reid
Simon heaped a spoonful of potatoes onto his plate and passed the bowl to Josiah. “What is she doing outside anyway?”
Josiah shrugged, then forked a chunk of meat and lowered it onto Hannah’s plate.
“It seems as though mealtime would be important to your fraa.”
Josiah stood. “Let me get you some kaffi.” He didn’t want to discuss this now, especially not in front of his daughter. She could read lips. Although she hadn’t shown any interest in joining conversations lately. Even though she was born deaf, she could talk some. But she had chosen not to since her mother died.
With his back turned from them, Josiah explained, “I haven’t told Hannah that Lindie and I are married.”
“The child’s bound to suspect something. The woman is living under your roof.”
Josiah jerked around. He blew out a breath; she hadn’t been watching her grandfather’s lips. Josiah raised his brow in an effort to remind Simon this was something he didn’t wish to discuss. Not now.
Simon wasn’t one to take advice from others, especially not his son-in-law. “The child’s already troubled in the mind.”
His father-in-law wasn’t saying anything new. Hannah required the same level of supervision as a toddler. And that was something Lindie was supposed to do.
Josiah squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then reached inside the cabinet for cups. He had enough problems. To top it off, Lindie didn’t seem to have enough sense to come in from the cold, or eat for two. She was certainly putting him in an awkward position in front of his father-in-law. The woman was homesick and he was miserable. He needed to pray now that his decision didn’t cause Hannah to retreat further. He’d lost his wife. Was it too much to ask God to give him back his little girl?
Simon cleared his throat.
Josiah looked over his shoulder as Lindie wandered into the kitchen. Her red button nose and rosy cheeks masked her pasty complexion and gave her a nice winter’s glow. Josiah averted his eyes. She was nice to look at. And under a normal covenant of this sort, a striking wife was a welcome distraction. But he couldn’t allow himself that luxury. He needed her to partner with him in making this arrangement work.
“Have a seat,” he said, picking up the coffee cups. “I’ll bring yours to the table.”
“Denki.” Her answer was faint. Perhaps Simon’s scowl had intimidated her.
They were silent the remainder of the meal. Simon was the first to clean his plate and leave the table, mumbling something about turning in early.
Lindie poked at her food.
The only one who didn’t seem affected by the tension in the room was Hannah. But that was about to change.
Chapter Six
Lindie had no more than showed Hannah the brush when the girl flung her arms wildly and raced off to her bedroom. Lindie didn’t feel cut out to be a mother. She had to try another approach to reach the child.
Her stomach roiled and she darted out to the porch. Was she going to be sick every morning? She wished Margaret lived close by so she could ask her sister-in-law if this was normal. It didn’t feel right. But nothing did. She guessed her insides were rebelling so much today because of all the crying she’d done during the night. How do you stop thinking about home? Even Josiah seemed beside himself not knowing how to help her. The situation wasn’t going to change. She needed to accept her new life.
Jesus, I’m so lonely. She lifted her face toward the sun and closed her eyes. Is all this a mistake? Hannah refuses to communicate, Josiah is tolerant, and Simon hasn’t uttered a word to me since our introduction. He’s made it clear he doesn’t like that Josiah married me.
Lindie had no clear purpose. Josiah was self-sufficient. Hannah hid in her bedroom most of the time, and when they were in the same room, she ignored Lindie. Studying the sign language book was of no value if she couldn’t practice the gestures with someone.
Lindie squinted from the sun’s reflection off the snow. This was the first day since her arrival that there weren’t any looming snow clouds. It looked like a good day to catch up on laundry.
She went inside, kicked her shoes off at the door, and hurried down the hall toward the bedrooms. It wasn’t long before footsteps tromped down the hall.
“Lindie?” Josiah knocked on the door. “Are you in there?”
“Jah, you can kumm in.”
He opened the door and poked his head inside. “Were you planning to rest for a while?”
“Nay.” She bent down and collected the pile of dirty clothes. “I’m going to do some laundry. Is your friend doing your clothes, or should I collect them from your room?”
He stepped inside the bedroom. “I plan on telling Hannah about our marriage and I had hoped you would join me.”
“Ach, I’m nett sure that’s a gut idea.” She wouldn’t be able to follow the hand gestures. She hadn’t yet learned the whole finger-spelling alphabet, and certainly hadn’t progressed to words. Why would he need her there? She scanned the floor for more clothes even though she was sure she’d collected everything.
He sighed. The weight of disappointment in his tone wasn’t lost on Lindie. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I can’t force you to take on a role that should kumm natural,” he said.
She clutched the clothes against her chest. “And what role are you referring to? It’s obvious I’ve failed to meet your expectations, but please clarify if it’s the role of taking care of Caroline’s child or her husband.”
“This isn’t about me. We had an agreement about Hannah.” He groaned under his breath. “Lindie,” he said, stretching out her name pathetically. “Don’t you think it would be best if we talk with her together? She needs to know that”—he cleared his throat—“we’re married and . . . you’re her . . . new . . .” He turned his head and coughed into his hand. “Mamm.”
Lindie tried not to concentrate on how difficult it seemed for him to say those words aloud. Still, it hurt. Her mouth quivered as she tried to force a smile.
How much would he tell Hannah about their marital conditions? She was too young to understand what a marriage of convenience meant. Yet wouldn’t she question why they didn’t share the same bedroom? Had he prayed for wisdom? Children learned from example—even poor examples. No parent would want their daughter trapped in a loveless marriage.
“Will you?” he said softly.
She swallowed hard through her throat’s tightness. “If you believe it’s wise.”
“Jah, I do.”
She needed to support them. After all, they were in this mess together. The laundry could wait. She tossed the clothes into a pile on the bed. “You don’t expect me to talk, do you? I don’t know any sign language.”
His jaw clenched. “Talk slow and she’ll read your lips.”
Only if she wants to.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll translate for you.”
“Okay.”
Josiah took a step, then turned back to face her. “Let’s pray first.” He reached for her hand and led her to the side of the bed where they knelt together.
“Father God, I ask that you give me wisdom and guidance in what to say to Hannah. Sometimes she’s unreachable . . .”
Lindie peeked at Josiah when his prayer fell silent. Tears collected in his closed eyes and wet the creases. Lord, give him strength.
“Aemen.” He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, then swept his shirtsleeve over his face. “Ready?”
“You are not making sense.” Josiah signed the words as he spoke them. “Slow down.”
The child’s eyes narrowed as her fingers flew in quick hand motions.
Lindie bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t relish being the topic of a conversation she could only follow by trying to decipher facial expressions. Why wasn’t Josiah translating his daughter’s words? She studied the wood grains embedded in the table.
“Yes. She and I are married.”
Lindie looked up and forced a smile, but Hann
ah still glared.
“Can you welcome Lindie to the family?” Josiah nodded, encouraging his daughter to agree.
Hannah fisted her hands.
Message received.
Lurching forward in his chair, Josiah gestured without verbalizing the words, leaving Lindie lost.
Hannah shoved away from the table and bolted off the seat.
Josiah jumped up and grabbed her arm to prevent her from leaving the kitchen. He circled her around to face Lindie, knelt in front of the child, then signed and said, “Apologize.”
Forcing Hannah to accept her was too much. Lindie stood. “Please, Josiah, give her time.”
The child’s empty stare tore at Lindie’s heart. She wasn’t sure she could have accepted a new mother if her father had lived to remarry.
Josiah tapped his daughter’s shoulder, made a few hand gestures, and stopped when Hannah covered her eyes.
Stomach acid washed up the back of her throat. She dashed past them and out the door. But once outside, inhaling the cold air helped the queasiness subside. With her arms folded across her chest, she paced up and down the length of the porch. The cold air bit, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to go back inside. She made another pass to the end of the porch and stopped at the corner. This marriage was a mistake. She squeezed her eyes closed. “Ach, Lord, Josiah’s probably saying the same thing.”
“That we’re in a jam?” Josiah closed the door behind him.
She jolted.
He crossed the porch and stood beside her. “Jah, I said that too.” He leaned down, rested his forearms on the railing, and sighed. “Neither one of us thought this out.”
She huffed and turned her back on him.
“I remember our conversation at the bus station. You were given a choice.”
He didn’t know her brother very well if he believed Eli had let her choose.
“Lindie,” he said, moving in front of her. “It doesn’t matter how we got to this point. We took vows in front of God, and we’re in this for life.”
“It isn’t just about us.”
“She’ll get used to the idea.” As though finalizing the statement in his mind, he nodded. “She will.” He smiled. “I still believe in miracles.”
Miracles took faith. Something she’d lost a significant amount of over the past few months. She marveled at his ability to hold on to any morsel of hope after everything he’d gone through. For his sake, she hoped for a miracle, because she didn’t see this marriage working any other way.
Josiah burned off most of his frustration mucking out the horse stall. Hannah hadn’t accepted Lindie, and Lindie hadn’t accepted her new role. The stress was too much. He started coughing and had to stop shoveling to catch his breath. Sweat rolled down his face and stung his eyes. He went to reach for his hankie, then remembered he hadn’t replaced the one he’d given Lindie to use.
Simon stepped around the corner. “I heard you coughing over in the milking area. You need to see a doktah.”
Josiah couldn’t think of that now. He had other problems to worry about besides his failing health. “Maybe I’ll get a chance next week.”
Simon leaned against the half wall. “You better nett put it off.”
He had to. What if Doctor Ethridge wanted to run tests again? He already had enough to cope with. He leaned the shovel against the wall and picked up the wheelbarrow handles. Simon opened the stall door for Josiah, and thankfully, his father-in-law didn’t follow along to continue his lecture.
Everyone coughs when he has a cold. He wasn’t going to fret over the possibility that it might be more. And he wouldn’t live in fear. Although he agreed with Simon on one thing—he was under too much stress. He dumped the contents of the wheelbarrow on the compost mound.
Josiah had given Hannah enough time to cool down. He left the wheelbarrow and strode across the snowy lawn to the house. Dishes clanked in the kitchen as he passed through the sitting room and down the hallway to his daughter’s room. Hannah was sitting on the bed, and when he sat on the edge of the mattress, she stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared at the wall.
Josiah tapped her shoulder. “You should give Lindie a chance,” he signed once he gained her attention.
Her bottom lip puckered, her thumb never leaving her mouth.
“She’s your new mamm.”
Hannah shook her head and turned her back to him again.
God, how should I respond to her disobedience? If I allow these actions to go unpunished, will she become even more unruly? Josiah waited a few moments for Hannah to turn around on her own. When she didn’t, he had no option.
He traipsed to the sitting room and removed the wooden paddle from the nail on the wall.
Lindie came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “Were you able to get her to understand?” Her eyes widened when she looked at the paddle. “Please, Josiah, give her time.”
“She turned her back in the middle of mei signing. I cannot allow her defiance.”
Lindie reached for his arm. “This is all new. For all of us. Please, don’t do something you might regret.”
He eyed her hand grasping his arm. “Are you familiar with the verse in Proverbs that instructs prompt discipline?”
“I’m familiar with the scripture.”
“Then leave me to do what I must do.”
Her grip tightened. “You said you believe in miracles. Give her time to kumm around on her own.”
How long would that take? His patience was wearing thin. But perhaps Lindie was right. He hung the paddle on the wall on his way outside. He needed air. Instead of going back out to the barn and having to dodge Simon’s questions, he tramped through the field. A brisk walk through the snow should calm him, or exhaust him. And at the moment, he didn’t care which.
Four days after Josiah told Hannah about their marriage, the child still refused to communicate. Lindie understood why the girl would reject her, but now she had stopped signing even to her father. Josiah rubbed his forehead frequently as though the entire ordeal had given him a continuous headache.
Lindie had managed to keep her distance, afraid she would say something wrong and cause more problems. But today it appeared she didn’t have to say anything to get under his skin. Every cabinet he opened and shut caused her to flinch.
She set the stack of recipes written on index cards on the table and stood. “What are you looking for?”
“A glass.” He turned his head to cough, shielding his mouth in his bent elbow.
“Your cough doesn’t sound very gut. Are you okay?”
“I will be once I drink some water.”
She looked away from his piercing glare and opened the correct cabinet. “I moved them,” she said, reaching for a glass.
“So I see.” He shifted his stance.
She ran the faucet and handed him a full glass. “It didn’t make any sense having the glasses on the left when everyone is right-handed.” Most men wouldn’t care how the woman arranged the kitchen, but Josiah frowned as he held the glass up to his lips.
“Is this a problem?”
He set the glass down. “It won’t be after you return everything to its rightful place.”
Her mother used to rearrange the cabinets regularly, and Lindie couldn’t recall her father ever getting upset. She didn’t understand why something this minor would provoke such an inflamed response. She straightened her shoulders. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really upset about? This isn’t about my moving the dishes, is it?”
The sluggish movement of his Adam’s apple as he drank made it look as though he was having difficulty swallowing. He set the glass on the counter, cleared his throat, then opened his mouth as if to say something, but stalked out of the room instead.
She took a step in his direction and stopped. The right words at the right time will turn away wrath, but the wrong words at the wrong time will feed the fire. These handed-down words of wisdom had worked for her mother. Growing up, Lindie had heard her
mother quote the saying under her breath often. Lindie repeated her mother’s words aloud. “It’s better to hold your tongue than to say something you’ll regret.” This wasn’t the time to be confrontational. She needed to try to fix things.
If her mother were alive, she would know how to advise her. Then again, she wouldn’t want her mother to know what her life had become. Lindie sank down on the chair. So much for trying to make the kitchen more functional. She looked around the room. It would take hours to put everything back. Time she didn’t have if she was to have the meal ready when Josiah and Simon ended their workday.
Lindie scanned the recipe card for chili, then collected all the ingredients except hamburger. Josiah had said the meat was in the icehaus, and hopefully she would find a pound or two of ground beef. At the door, she slipped on her cape, then remembered Hannah. Lindie didn’t want her to be confused if she came out of her room and found the house empty. She wasn’t sure how to convey to the girl that she was running out to the icehaus for meat, but she had to try.
Hannah sat on the floor, huddled in the corner, with a pad of paper on her lap. She didn’t look up from her drawing as Lindie entered the room, or when she crouched down beside her. Lindie studied the picture, speechless at what she saw. Hannah had drawn a deer standing near a cluster of birch trees. The shading detail was thorough. No one would believe a child had drawn the picture.
She tapped Hannah’s arm, then pointed to her picture. “That’s beautiful.” Even though she spoke slowly, Hannah’s eyes narrowed.
Lindie pointed to herself. “I”—she smiled wide at the little girl—“like”—she pointed at the drawing. “I like your picture.”
Hannah’s despondence unnerved Lindie. Behind those dark brown eyes was a lonely child. Lindie understood that emptiness too well.
