by Ruth Reid
The girl pretended not to read lips, and Lindie wasn’t about to let the child think she was frustrated. Lindie smiled again. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She stood and turned for the door, not expecting any response. The hem of Lindie’s dress caught and she looked over her shoulder. Hannah was holding on to it.
The girl released the dress, pointed at the picture, then made a few hand gestures Lindie couldn’t decipher.
She certainly didn’t want to discourage Hannah. She looked again at the picture and smiled. “Jah, it’s beautiful.”
A slight lift at the corners of Hannah’s mouth encouraged Lindie, but as she squatted next to her, Hannah stuck her thumb in her mouth and turned away. Not wishing to pressure Hannah, she stood back up. If she gave Hannah time, she hoped the girl would warm up to her eventually. Later, when she had a few extra minutes, she would spend more time with the sign language book. But right now, giving her space was more important. Besides, she still needed to find the ground beef. Before leaving the room, Lindie glanced again at Hannah, who hadn’t changed positions. Lindie had made some progress. That should please Josiah. Maybe it would even lighten his mood.
The cold air nipped at her face as she crossed the snowy driveway. Next to the long pole barn stood a small shack. Since the other small outbuildings had firewood stacked up along their sides, she figured this was the icehaus. She unlatched the door and used her hip to nudge it open. The dark room would hold only two or three people. Frozen water jugs lined the walls. A few blocks of ice surrounded the food packages on the bench top. She wished she’d thought to bring a lantern since there were no windows. The opened door didn’t allow much light. She wouldn’t be able to read the markings on the brown paper packaging. After a few minutes of searching, her hands began to stiffen. She selected what she thought could be hamburger. If it wasn’t, she would figure out something else to make with the meat.
Back in the house, she discovered the package wasn’t beef, but ground venison. She hoped the deer meat cooked up the same. She fed the stove a few pieces of wood so the meat would brown up quickly. A gamey deer scent filled the air. A few hours later the pot of chili was still simmering on the stove.
Josiah entered the kitchen. “Simon will be in shortly.”
“This is ready.” She stirred the chili as he washed his hands at the sink.
“Where’s Hannah?” He dried his hands on a dish towel.
She set the ladle on the counter. “I’ll go get her.”
“Nay, wait.” He reached for her arm. “I want to talk with you a minute.”
“I didn’t have time to change the cupboards back to the way they were, but I will, after supper.”
“Caroline was left-handed,” he blurted.
“Ach.” Now it all made sense. Why hadn’t it crossed her mind that he would defend Caroline’s arrangement?
“I’m going to try harder,” he said. “Please have patience.”
She nodded. Chili bubbles splashed onto the stove. Thankful for a distraction, she grabbed the pot holders.
Josiah stopped her from reaching for the pot. “Let me lift it.” He moved the sputtering chili.
“I’ll go get Hannah.” Lindie hurried down the hall to Hannah’s room and opened the door.
It was empty.
Chapter Seven
Lindie darted out the door behind Josiah. Why hadn’t she checked on the girl when she returned from the icehaus?
“I’ll find her.” Josiah pointed to the house. “Go back inside where it’s warm.”
“I’m nett kalt. I want to help.” She needed to help. This was her fault.
“Fine.” He stomped toward the pasture gate, his breath coming in thick, white puffs.
Lindie looked across the field. Empty. Where had the child gone? She cupped her mouth around her hand and called, “Hannah,” then listened for a response.
Nothing. She called again.
Josiah continued walking. His long-legged stride forced her to jog to keep pace. When he came to the wooden, split rail fence, he crawled between the timbers of the fence, then waited for her.
She lifted her dress midcalf and swung her leg between the rough-cut timbers, catching her prayer kapp on the fence. She couldn’t straddle the fence and pull her kapp loose at the same time, at least not without ripping the material or losing a chunk of hair.
“Hold still.” Josiah squatted.
His warm breath fanned her face as he worked his hand over the board.
“Ouch.” He jerked his hand away and examined his index finger.
“Are you okay?”
“It’s nothing.” He brought it to his lips.
“Let me see if it’s bleeding.”
He pulled his finger out of his mouth, but didn’t show her the wound.
She wasn’t thinking clearly. Even if he’d cut his finger through to the bone, she couldn’t do anything about it with her head still caught in such an awkward position. “Nett this minute, but you might need a tetanus shot if you cut your finger on a rusty nail.”
“I’m fine. It wasn’t a nail.” He shrugged it off, shaking his finger. Then he reached over her again. After a few short tugs, he worked the cloth free from whatever had snagged her kapp. He clutched her elbow and steadied her as she climbed the rest of the way through.
“Denki.” She readjusted her kapp. “I probably should’ve used the gate.”
“That’s what most pregnant women would do,” he mumbled under his breath as he stomped away.
She was doing nothing but slowing him down. Her feet sank into the snow as she hurried to catch up to him. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called for Hannah again.
Josiah smirked.
She ignored him and repeated the call, her voice strained. His expression hadn’t changed. Why was he looking at her like that?
“You do remember she’s deaf, jah?” he said.
Lindie dropped her hands to her sides. “What a dummkopp I am.”
He continued on course.
A few minutes later they reached the end of the pasture. Lindie spotted a fence. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“You better stay on that side.”
He didn’t need to look so disgusted. “I can make it.”
“There isn’t a gate.” He lowered his gaze to her belly and scowled.
She flinched. So, he thought she couldn’t do it simply because she was pregnant? She would be happy if climbing a fence were the most difficult thing she’d face while married to him.
He crawled through with ease.
Lindie lifted her foot to the bottom board. Grabbing hold of the top board, she pulled herself up. If she couldn’t crawl between the boards, she could climb over them.
“Ach. You don’t listen, do you?”
“I can do this.” But even as she spoke, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her down. In his arms, her muscles tensed and the air left her lungs. He released his hold the moment her feet landed on the ground. It took several seconds to regain her composure.
Is he blushing? Lindie bit her lip to keep from smiling. She sucked in a breath and made a subtle move to touch her own warm cheeks. She hated it when her face betrayed her. He hasn’t noticed? He seemed to make a point not to look her in the eye.
She straightened her dress and when she looked up, he was stalking toward the woods. She hurried to join him. “So what makes you think she went this way?”
“I’m following her tracks.” He pointed to the small footprints in the snow.
Having only his back to stare at, the tracks she saw were his. She would remember this if Hannah disappeared again.
Josiah’s long strides made it impossible for her to use his tracks to avoid bogging down in the ankle-deep snow. Her shoes were soaked and she couldn’t feel her toes, much less wiggle them to keep the circulation flowing. At least her hands were tucked warm inside her cape.
He stopped.
“Is something wrong?” Lindie leaned t
o one side and looked around Josiah. She saw no path cutting through the dense woodlands. “Do you think Hannah would go in there?” She shuddered.
“Jah, I know she would.” He ducked under a low-hanging branch.
Lindie followed. The lighting was dim and long shadows caused the hair on her arms to stand on end. A branch snapped, and she flinched.
Josiah continued, but she froze. Eyes closed, her heart hammered her ribs with an unsteady beat. Blood whooshed in her ears. Just like the night she sped through the woods. Only not the same. This was daytime, hundreds of miles away. And leaves covered the ground, not snow. Focus on this moment. Still, the scent of dead leaves from that night filled her senses, cloaking her with memories she wanted to erase.
A gunshot rang out.
Lindie jolted. It sounded close. Eyeing the direction of the shot, her heartbeat quickened.
“Stay here.” Josiah ducked under a low-hanging limb and disappeared into the dense forest.
Lindie wrapped her arms around herself and made a circle, scanning her surroundings. Lord, please keep Hannah safe. Branches snapped in the distance. Me too, God. I’m so afraid. She squeezed her eyes closed and silently recited, Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. She repeated the scripture multiple times before calling out, “Josiah!” She looked one way, then the other. Nothing. She needed to focus.
Look for tracks.
She spotted Josiah’s heavy boot prints and moved in that direction. She pushed a pine branch out of her path and it snapped back, launching the snow that had collected on the needles. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I will fear no evil . . . for thou art with me,” she said aloud. Crossing over a fallen log, she slipped, but kept her balance by flailing her arms. “Ach, Josiah, why did you leave me alone?”
She followed his tracks several more feet until they led to a steep hill. She paused to catch her breath before trying to tackle the uphill hike. The cold air tightened her lungs and she coughed.
The transverse climb wasn’t as difficult as Lindie had anticipated. She only slipped once and caught herself from falling by digging the toe of her shoe deeper into the side of the hill. Lindie regained her footing as Josiah appeared at the top and reached out his hand.
“Denki.” She swiped the snow from the front of her dress.
“I thought you were going to wait.”
Lindie winced at the scowl on his face.
“You should have returned home.” He tramped forward, only to stop a few feet later. He turned his head both ways as though trying to determine which way to go next. “Stay here a minute,” he said, plowing through the snow. He looked back at Lindie and waved. “I see her.”
Lindie motioned for him to go. She didn’t want to hold him up any longer. “I’ll catch up.” As soon as she caught her breath.
Hannah sat under a large tree, seemingly in her own world, as she twirled a crinkled reddish-brown leaf by its stem. Where she’d found the leaf in the snow-covered woods was beyond Lindie. She drew closer, but not so close as to invade their privacy. She needed to move to keep the blood circulating in her nearly frozen feet.
Hannah jolted when her father clasped her arm. She stood.
“I told you not to leave the house without asking.” His forehead wrinkled as he repeated his verbal scolding with precise hand movements. “What did I tell you about running off?”
Hannah’s hands remained tucked at her sides. She looked away, demonstrating no remorse for her conduct.
With his hand, Josiah turned his daughter’s face toward his and with two fingers, pointed at his eyes and said, “Don’t turn away from me when I’m speaking to you. Why did you disobey my instructions?”
Her empty stare seemed to reach beyond him.
“Lord, have mercy,” Lindie whispered. Her father would have taken her to the woodshed had she shown the same defiance at that age. At any age.
A few feet away, branches snapped and a deer stumbled through the thicket of tall pines and collapsed.
Hannah ran toward the wounded animal, but Josiah stopped her. He signed something that made her mouth quiver and look at the deer longingly. He tapped her shoulder. When she faced him, he signed something else.
A hunter dressed in orange, following the same path as the deer’s through the underbrush, came into view. Josiah lifted his hand to signal Hannah to stay and approached the hunter.
Lindie overheard Josiah say something about hunting on private property. However, she was more concerned about Hannah as the girl inched toward the fallen deer. Before she could reach the child, Hannah had knelt beside the deer and placed her hand on the animal’s neck. Her mouth moved, but Lindie could hear no words.
The doe was lifeless.
Lindie edged closer. Wild animals, especially wounded ones, were unpredictable. Deer blood covered Hannah’s hand. Lindie tapped the child’s arm, but she kept her eyes closed.
A limb above them cracked and Lindie instinctively leaned over Hannah. A small ice-coated branch, no bigger than Lindie’s arm, fell to the ground less than a foot away. She tugged Hannah’s arm. This time the girl looked at her with penetrating eyes and lifted her hand from the animal’s gunshot wound.
The deer stood, sniffed into the wind, and flicked its white tail. Lindie gasped when it sprinted a few feet and paused near a cluster of birch trees. Hannah’s drawing was a perfect depiction of the deer standing in front of the trees. So perfect, it seemed almost eerie that a child so young could have drawn with such precision. Lindie studied the group of trees. The peeling white bark, the angle the trunks leaned, it all matched her drawing exactly. The deer twitched its tail again and leaped into the underbrush.
The sound of crunching snow neared. Josiah’s attention was fixed on Hannah.
“You will be punished,” he said and signed at the same time.
“Nay.” Lindie crossed the distance to meet him. “Please, don’t.”
“Stay out of this.” Josiah walked past her to reach Hannah. He cupped his daughter’s shoulder with his hand and nudged her forward.
“Did you see what happened?” Lindie didn’t wait for his response. “The deer got up. She laid her hands on it and I saw her mouth moving. She was praying.”
“It will go off into the woods and die.”
“Nay. I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “I think it was already dead when she laid her hand on its wound.” She motioned to Hannah. “Look at her hand. It’s covered in blood.”
Josiah stopped Hannah, looked at her hand, then knelt and gathered a handful of snow.
“Please, don’t be upset. I think she did ask permission,” Lindie said as he washed Hannah’s hand with snow. “She drew a picture of a deer.” Lindie pointed to the birch trees. “Standing in front of those exact trees. When she showed me the drawing, she also tried to communicate something.”
“When did she do that?”
“Earlier. She must’ve thought I had okayed her leaving. But I was trying to tell her the picture was beautiful.”
His jaw tightened. He rubbed the blood off his hands in the snow, stood, then nudged Hannah forward.
“Don’t you see? She might have asked to kumm here. Maybe to draw more pictures . . .” Or lay hands on a fallen deer. “I don’t know. But she made the effort to communicate with me. It’s a step.” She expected him to be pleased, but his stern expression never changed.
Hannah shuffled a few steps and looked over her shoulder. For a second, her eyes connected with Lindie’s, then she looked up at the treetops.
Lindie’s heart grew heavy at the dull cast in Hannah’s eyes.
“She didn’t bring her pad of paper,” Josiah said, as if he felt the need to reprimand Lindie for Hannah’s leaving the house. He grimaced. “You need to start studying that sign language book. You spent too much time rearranging the kitchen. Have you studied today?”
Lindie shook her head.
“It’s important that you’re able to communicate with
her.”
Lindie swallowed hard, but it didn’t relieve the scratchiness in her throat.
“And why didn’t you stay put back there as I told you?”
“I was afraid,” she said. She studied the snowy path. She didn’t want him to ask why the woods frightened her.
He hung back a few steps as Hannah marched onward. “I am sorry for sounding insensitive,” he said to Lindie. “Hunting season makes me nervous. Hunters don’t always pay attention to private property signs.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He shot the doe on state land but was caught up tracking it and wasn’t aware he’d crossed onto private property. It’s just not safe to be in the woods during rifle season, especially if you are not wearing a bright-orange vest.”
A shudder reached her core. Hannah’s running off could have been so much worse. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help you find her . . . but I ended up slowing you down.”
His expression softened. “You didn’t know.” He scratched his beard. “So what were you afraid of, bears?”
“Bears!”
“Shh. You might wake them.” He held a straight face for several seconds before a grin erupted. “Kumm on. Stay close and I’ll try nett to go so fast.”
“Don’t worry.” Lindie scanned the area. “I plan to stick to you like sap,” she mumbled under her breath.
He coughed into his hand.
“Are you getting sick?”
“Hope nett.” He coughed again.
“You sound croaky.”
Without breaking his stride, he peered at her over his shoulder. “That’s probably nett a compliment, is it?”
“Are there really bears in these woods?”
“Jah.” He searched the ground. “So watch out for mei traps. The iron teeth will jerk your foot clean off and leave a stump for a leg.”
She gulped and looked at Hannah up ahead. “You better get up there with her so you can watch where Hannah steps.”
A wide smile broke across his face. “You’re gullible. I like that.” He continued walking.
