by Beth Wiseman
“Share with me, then. I’m interested to know what my future holds.”
“No one knows that, dear.” Mamm picked up a dishcloth and began to dry.
There was something about her tone that caught Emma’s attention. All this talk of the future and God’s plans. It was different from their normal evening banter.
“Danny says perhaps Gotte brought this boy to us. That maybe that’s why he’s here or why we found him.”
“The boy could have gone anywhere,” Mary Ann said.
“There’s no telling how long he’s been hiding in there. I don’t look in that back stall often.”
“But today you saw him.”
“I did, which is strange, Mamm. If he were hiding, it seems he would have been more careful.”
“Maybe he wanted you to see him.”
“That doesn’t make sense. He ran the moment our eyes met.” Emma let her hands soak in the warm water. All that was left to wash was the pan she had used to stew the chicken and potatoes. She wanted to enjoy the dishwater before it grew cold and soiled.
How long had it been since the boy had enjoyed a warm bath?
She closed her eyes against the question. It wasn’t her responsibility to worry about the welfare of a stranger.
And yet the Scriptures spoke often about strangers. Didn’t they? Something about the welfare of strangers and angels unaware?
Mary Ann hung up her dish towel, then stretched to kiss Emma on the cheek. She’d always been affectionate, but in the last few years, she’d become more so. Maybe she realized the importance of expressing her feelings while there was still time.
“Pray on it, my dear.”
With those words of wisdom, Mary Ann turned and left the room.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next day proceeded as most Tuesdays had since the children moved away. Emma and Mary Ann ate their breakfasts, cleaned two of the downstairs rooms, and then donned their shawls for the Stitch Club, which took place at a neighbor’s home.
Laura’s home was on the other side of town. It wasn’t a far drive, and though the day was cloudy, it felt good to be out and about. Emma guided their buggy through Shipshewana, past the Blue Gate where Edna had worked her first job as a waitress. They stopped at the light, and she glanced over at the Davis Mercantile. While she didn’t need any more fabric, it was always nice to drop in and say hello. The light changed, and she resisted the temptation to stop, directing her sorrel mare past Yoder’s and onto Laura’s street.
The group was working on a quilt for the June auction. The women numbered a baker’s dozen, and they were all excited to be in the last stages of the project. Stretched on the quilt stand, which took up a good portion of Laura’s sitting room, was a large double-wedding-ring quilt. As they stitched it together, Emma wondered about who would purchase it. Newlyweds? Or a couple who had already spent a lifetime together? Amish? Or Englisch? Would someone buy it for themselves or for a loved one?
The Lord knew. Before they began stitching each week, Laura reminded them to pray for the recipient. As soon as they had silently done so, the room became a bevy of activity.
Emma’s daughters had not been able to attend, since school was now out of session and they were busy with their children. Instead, she and Mary Ann would stop by Eunice’s house on the way home. Her eldest daughter, Eunice, lived next door to Esther, her youngest, which made for easy visiting.
They’d finished piecing the quilt together and were now ready to begin the actual quilting, as they’d basted the top to the back the week before. Once the quilting was finished, they’d bind the edges and be done! Perhaps three more weeks.
The conversation around the quilt fluctuated from letters folks had received, to items read in The Budget, to the occasional phone call shared with a loved one. Finally, they descended into gossip.
Emma wasn’t proud of this, though it probably wasn’t the type of gossip a bishop might frown upon. She thought of it as gossip because the conversation was based on what had been heard and tidbits passed along the grapevine, versus cold hard facts.
She only listened, though she’d been known to participate. Her thoughts kept wandering to Danny and the boy in her barn. Suddenly Emma realized someone might know something about the boy, so she focused her attention on the conversations swirling around her.
Nothing related popped up. Certainly this group would know if the boy was a runaway from any of their families.
There was a lull in the conversation. Laura cleared her throat and asked if anyone had seen or heard from Nancy Schlabach. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
“I sent my youngest girl to take them some fresh eggs.” Verna pulled off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “She told me Nancy was sporting a black eye. Didn’t offer any explanation about it.”
“Like before, I’m sure she would give some illogical account of what happened.” Laura shifted her chair to the right and bent over her row of stitches.
“I know the bishop has been by to see Nancy and Owen.” Emma ran her fingers down the strings of her prayer kapp as the group stopped what they were doing and stared at her, waiting for more details. “I asked Bishop Simon because I was worried, and I thought maybe there was something we could do.”
“And? What did Simon say?”
“That the church leadership was meeting with Owen, trying to convince him to enter a rehab program. He hadn’t agreed to it, and Simon suggested it might be necessary to move Nancy and the boys.”
Verna spoke up. “The problem is that they’ve no family here. When they moved from Ohio, they thought the land they were buying would be forty-five acres of heaven. But farming is hard work, and their property was a mess when they bought it.” Verna replaced her glasses and picked up her quilting needle. “I’ve spoken to her about staying at our place, but she won’t. She knows we have children to the roof rafters. Still, we would make room for her.”
“Ya, we all would,” Laura murmured.
Each woman in the circle nodded in agreement. Each of them would gladly offer shelter to Nancy and her two small boys.
Mary Ann had barely said a word since they arrived. She glanced up from her stitching. “Nancy needs a sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary? What type of sanctuary?” Laura stowed her needle and sat back in the chair.
“A place of healing. A safe place.”
“Ya, we could use that in our community. Oaklawn has been a real benefit to Goshen, Elkhart, and South Bend. Perhaps they will build a facility here.”
Verna sighed and bent even closer to her stitching. “Supposing the Mennonite Alliance did plan a facility like that here, it would take a year or more to complete. Nancy needs help now.”
“God provides sanctuary,” Mary Ann reminded them.
Emma remembered what she’d said the day before, about gardens being a place of blessing. Where a person could rest, draw closer to God, and heal. That was the sort of place Nancy needed. A garden of God’s design.
So many people were hurting in the world. Emma felt rather ashamed that her thoughts had been ungrateful of late. Mary Ann was right. More time in prayer and no doubt she would have a better perspective.
Eunice was sitting on the front porch, rocking baby Silas, when Emma and Mary Ann pulled into the driveway. Her six-year-old older daughter, Miriam, sat nearby, playing with three wooden horses.
“Let me hold that little man.” Mary Ann settled into the rocker, and Eunice placed the baby in his mammi’s arms.
Emma didn’t know who looked more content, the child or Mary Ann.
“Where’s Esther today?”
“The boys wanted to go into town and do some shopping with the money they earned from helping tend to Doc’s garden.”
“It’s a wonder he has one at all, as much time as he spends in his office.”
“Georgia loves the fresh vegetables, but the arthritis in her hands makes gardening nearly impossible. It must be hard for the doctor to see his own w
ife suffering so. The boys were only too happy to make a little spending money.”
“Only eight years old and already the twins are hard workers.” Emma pulled Miriam into her arms when she skipped over to show the women the horse she was playing with. Even at her young age, she already had a real preference for anything to do with animals.
“So tell me about this boy in your barn.”
Emma wasn’t surprised she’d heard. It was the way of life in their small community. She told Eunice all she knew, and then added, “The food I left last night was gone when I checked on him this morning.”
“But he wasn’t there?”
“Nein. His stuff still was—a small duffel bag too small to hold more than a change of clothes.”
“It is strange that he’d pick your barn.”
“Have you checked yours lately? Could be that we all have Amish teens stowing away, and we just don’t know about it.”
Eunice laughed but then grew somber. “Just be careful, okay, Mamm? And tell Danny if you need anything.”
That was the way of things too. Her family now accepted Danny, counted on him, as if he’d never walked away from their community. She’d asked Danny about that once, about how he could bear to leave. He’d told her that at the time it had seemed what he ought to do, what he had to do, but that now he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
As they were walking back toward their buggy, Eunice tucked her arm into the crook of her mother’s. “I saw Danny’s piece in The Budget. So he is still writing.”
“Ya. I suppose.”
“Do you ever talk to him about it?”
“Nein. What’s to say?”
“You could ask where he’s been, what things he’s seen. Maybe he wants to share his experiences with someone.”
“I believe he shares them with his notebooks, piled high around his desk.”
“Well, we’re all relieved that he decided to come home, that he changed his mind about selling his parents’ land. It’s gut to have an Amish man living next door to you. Someone we trust.”
“Must have been a hard decision for him.”
“Why do you say that?” Eunice had helped her mammi into the buggy. Now she stood in the afternoon sun, studying her mother.
“He didn’t stay when his folks passed. Only came home for a week or so.”
“I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“Ya. Then a year later he shows up, pulls the For Sale sign out of the yard, and settles in. I guess he had a hard time deciding whether he wanted to continue with his travels, with his studies, or move home.”
“What’s important is that he’s here now, and you can depend on him if you need someone.”
“I can depend on my kinner too.”
“Ya, Mamm. But Danny is right next door. Don’t be proud. Let him know if you need something. And call me from the phone shack if you want Aaron to come over and speak with the teen in your barn.”
“Your husband has plenty to do without worrying over a teenage boy.”
Eunice stared down at the baby in her arms. “He’ll be that age before I know it. And I would not want him sleeping in a barn, but if he was . . .” She stepped closer and kissed Emma on the cheek. “I’d want him in yours.”
Later that afternoon, Emma and Mary Ann were once again working in the garden when Danny arrived. He was wearing the same dark pants but a pale-blue shirt. Danny looked comfortable in whatever he wore. Had he worn Englisch clothes while he was away? Did he miss that life? And why did he appear every afternoon to help in their garden? Perhaps he needed the exercise of gardening after sitting at his desk all day. Emma had seen a few of his articles in The Budget over the last six months, but she had an idea he was working on something bigger.
She didn’t want to ask what it was. Somehow it seemed rude unless he brought up the subject.
Besides, if he wanted her to know, he would tell her. Wouldn’t he?
They finished pulling carpetweed and prickly lettuce from around the mint, then moved on to care for the butterfly weed. Though its name indicated it was a weed, it was far from it. The plant’s orange blossoms hadn’t made an appearance yet, but they would soon—before July. Once they did, the butterflies would descend on it, and what a sight that was.
Working in the flowers did much to ease Emma’s worries. She was even considering inviting Danny to dinner when he straightened up, stretched his back, and motioned toward the barn.
“Any sign of your guest?”
“Nein, but the food was gone this morning.”
“Bedroll still there?”
“It is. I’m wondering if I should sneak up on him in the middle of the night so we can have a talk.”
“If he’s ready, that would work. If he’s not, he’d run, and this time you might not see him again.”
“I’m not sure I want to see him again. This mission of mercy is your idea.”
“We are to be peacemakers,” Mary Ann chimed in. “Full of mercy and good fruits.”
“Yes, Mamm. But—”
“I’ve been thinking.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. He’d be needing another cut soon. Who did that for him? Most Amish men had their hair cut by their mother or sister or wife. Danny was that rare occurrence—an only child in an Amish home. He had none of those people in his life. He’d have to go to a barber and pay good money for what family would normally do. “It’s supposed to dip into the forties again tonight. Our lad didn’t have much of a bedroll.”
“He’s not our lad.”
“I have a nice sleeping bag at home. Never use it anymore.”
“You could offer him a room in your house.” She said the words in jest before she considered how they might sound.
Danny crossed his arms and stared at her. “You’re right. I do have an extra room.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Still need to catch him first.”
“He’s not a fish, Danny. He’s a boy with a family and some sort of past he needs to deal with.”
“I’ll go and fetch the sleeping bag. It’s a gut Englisch one, rated to zero degrees. He’ll be snug and warm in it.” The smile that covered his face was tough to interpret.
Emma wasn’t heartless.
She wanted to help the boy as much as anyone.
But why did Danny find such joy in it?
“Back in a few.”
He ambled off toward his house. Emma turned and spoke to Mary Ann. When she was confident that her mamm would be fine alone, she took off after him.
Danny looked mildly surprised when she called out to him. He stopped and waited for her to catch up.
“No need for you to walk all the way back,” she said, quickly nixing the idea of inviting him to dinner. It was nearly time to eat already, and she would be feeding three again since the boy in the barn would need dinner.
The boy in the barn. It sounded like a child’s story.
Why was Danny so focused on helping him?
Why was he convinced the boy needed more than a place to hide?
And what did he expect to happen next?
They were met at the porch by a large black Labrador.
“Emma, meet Shadow.”
Danny must have been training the pup, because he settled flat on the porch, raising his warm, dark eyes to study both of them.
“He won’t jump, but he will shake with you.”
“Shake?”
Shadow jumped to a sitting position, tail thumping a happy beat against the porch floor, and raised one paw, which Emma readily shook. She’d wanted a dog, had thought about it often in the last few months. The last one they’d had, Cocoa, had passed when the boys were in their teens. In the end she had decided it was too much work, and she didn’t want a dog knocking Mary Ann down.
“He’s so well trained.”
“We’re working on it. He still chews up the occasional shoe, but he’s coming along.”
“You did the training yourself?”
“Ya.”
“Where’d you learn how?”
He raised his eyes to the corner of the roof as he tried to remember. “Wisconsin. I was in a community called Pebble Creek, and the gentleman I stayed with trained hunting dogs. I learned a lot from him, though I had no need for it until I saw Shadow at the feed store a few weeks ago.”
Danny Eicher knew how to train dogs? She wondered what other things he had learned on his travels. As always, her thoughts circled back to the main question—could he be satisfied living in their little town?
Then Emma stepped into Danny’s house, the home that had been in his family for two generations, and she promptly forgot all of her questions.
CHAPTER FIVE
Emma had been in Danny’s home before, when he’d first come back.
She and Ben had gone over to welcome him, and she’d carried with her a plate of oatmeal cookies. That was over a year ago. She’d had no need to stop by since. Most days he found a reason to come to their house, though she still hadn’t figured the why that was tied to that.
“I guess you spend the majority of your day at your desk?” Emma worried her kapp strings. The thought of all those words, all the places that Danny had visited, overwhelmed her. Did he write about Shipshe? Did he include them in his articles?
“A good bit, yes.”
“Going through the notebooks?”
“Ya, I have a gut memory, but checking against my notes I find that I sometimes remember things differently than they actually happened. Reading what I wrote while I was there, it brings people and places into focus.”
The house was small since his parents only had the one child. Many Amish couples start with a home big enough for three or four and add on rooms as the family grows. Danny’s parents never had a need to add on, and the last time Emma had been in the house, it had needed updating.
She now stood in a home that looked as if it was recently built.
The paint was fresh, white trim and a light-beige color on the walls. Danny had taken out half of the furniture, so the rooms appeared larger. He’d also spent some time scrubbing and shining the wooden floors.
