The First Love

by Beverly Lewis

Back home, Maggie settled into a chair in the front room as her father began the evening Bible reading, later than normal. Andy and Stephen sat side by side on the floor like peanut butter and jelly, and Leroy perched over near where the breeze came through the screen door. Miriam, meanwhile, leaned in next to Rachel, and Grace rested on the settee on the far side of the room, paying close attention to Dat in his rocking chair. Looking around at her dear ones, Maggie was glad to be home. Not out shoulder to shoulder with so many at the tent revival, where she’d had to be extra careful not to lose her balance while using her cane.

  She thought of Glenn’s eagerness to share the account of his healing with her, and a sigh rose up. I’m content right here, she told herself.

  Bedtime arrived with the sense that Rachel had done everything in her power to make Maggie’s birthday special. She’d even asked Joseph beforehand if she’d overlooked anything that might bring Maggie joy. All the same, it had surprised her somewhat to hear Maggie practically gush her gratitude after the guests had gone their way. Was it a reflection of the way Joseph and Sadie Ann had raised her?

  Thinking of it now, she did not want to question Maggie’s motives. Surely her appreciation had been genuine, even if her thanks had been different from the way a daughter would typically thank her mother.

  As Rachel brushed her hair in front of the dresser, she could see Joseph’s reflection in the mirror. He was sitting in his favorite chair, The Budget open in his lap.

  Seeing him so relaxed made her happy. She was glad Joseph could smile again after suffering the loss of his first bride. Rachel hadn’t forgotten Joseph’s confiding in her after their third date how surprised he was to be falling for someone so soon after Sadie Ann’s passing.

  Mamm said I seemed so happy during our walk earlier, thought Rachel while dressing for bed.

  Thinking of that lovely stroll and the chance to visit with her mother again made Rachel feel as content as dear Joseph looked. Her homesickness had subsided, at least for now.

  My life is here, she thought, with my husband and his children.

  But something in her yearned for her own babies with Joseph.

  14

  Strawberry picking began immediately after an early breakfast the next morning. The sun was still low in the sky and the leaves dewy, but Rachel insisted Maggie not help with the harvesting. Instead, she asked the boys to join them in the mounded rows. And after a time, Aunt Nellie wandered outside, as well, wearing a blue bandanna to keep the sun off her neck.

  Leroy kept to himself, Rachel noticed, though he did occasionally speak to his brothers. For the most part, though, he was a silent worker—and quick.

  When all the ripe berries were picked, Grace and Miriam took them inside to wash in cold water on one side of the double sink while Maggie hulled the cleaned ones at the table with Nellie. Rachel got the large kettle ready to layer the prepared berries, then sugar, followed by another layer of strawberries and sugar, until they were all used up.

  When it was time to make the noon meal, they set aside the strawberries to wait for the sugar to dissolve, then cooked them slowly on low heat for twenty minutes. Finally, Rachel poured the large quantity of sugary strawberries into an enormous bowl to sit until tomorrow morning, when the work of filling and sealing jars would begin.

  After they’d eaten, Rachel served cold meadow tea to the girls and Nellie, who’d stayed around for the meal. And for the fellowship, too, Rachel thought. The five of them were sipping the cold tea when they all heard a loud crash come from outside, like the sound of shattering glass.

  “Was is letz?” Nellie said, going to the back screen door and looking out.

  There was a series of loud meows, and Rachel got up quickly to look out the door, the girls close behind her, Maggie moving more slowly than her sisters.

  “Well, lookee there . . . Siggy’s got himself a glass collar,” Nellie remarked, pointing.

  “He must’ve put his head in the Mason jar Miriam was carryin’ around earlier,” Rachel said, peering out at the strange sight. She recalled Miriam had been feeding corn kernels to the birds, and the girl must have left the jar out with a few kernels inside. “Poor Siggy prob’ly couldn’t breathe. Good thing he broke the jar and got free.”

  Nellie led the way out the door, shaking her head. “Puh! That cat!”

  When they got to Siggy, he was still meowing and jerking about, trying to get the rim of the jar off his neck. Rachel noticed a few corn kernels in the largest piece of the broken jar, on the ground nearby. “He was after the corn,” she observed.

  “Such a silly cat,” Nellie said. “I just hope Siggy doesn’t cut himself on the jagged glass. He’s lucky he’s still okay.”

  By now, Andy and Stephen had come running to see about the commotion. Andy’s eyes looked like they might pop when he saw Siggy’s predicament. “Go an’ get Leroy,” Andy told his brother. “Tell him to bring Dat’s hammer right quick.”

  Stephen dashed back to the barn, and pretty soon Leroy arrived, walking briskly.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Rachel was quick to explain, but Leroy did not respond. Rather, he removed his blue paisley kerchief from his pocket and carefully slipped it between the sharp glass and the cat’s neck. “You’ll be all right. Just hold real still,” Leroy told Siggy quietly as he raised the hammer.

  With a single tap, the glass broke, and Siggy zipped away across the yard.

  Andy and Stephen laughed and jabbered in Deitsch about what they’d just seen; Rachel suspected it was a story they’d share many times with their friends.

  “Denki, Leroy, for savin’ a cat with more than nine lives.” Nellie clasped her hands against her bosom. “Such a helpful young man.”

  Leroy smiled amiably and bobbed his head, then took his hammer and returned to the barn.

  Rachel wished that one day Leroy might smile at her like that.

  Sighing, she thought, What more can I do, Lord?

  The nesting robin Maggie had recently seen began to sing at four o’clock the next morning. Beautiful as the sound was, Maggie groaned and rolled slowly onto her back, listening in the predawn darkness of her room. So close to my window, she thought with a yawn, still exhausted. Most days, she woke up feeling downright tired, and it took an hour or more for her to fully wake.

  Still, the robin’s vibrant call kept her from falling back to sleep. And imagining all the pretty little eggs beneath the jovial robin reminded Maggie of how much happiness must surely come from bringing life into the world. Something I’ll never know.

  Even so, she prayed for God’s will to be done this day in all of their lives. And she prayed for those who would be flocking to the tent meetings each night for the duration of the revival, seeking forgiveness from sin and a new life in Christ Jesus. She recalled Preacher Brubaker passionately stating that nothing was more critical in the eyes of the Lord than a lost soul being found, like that one lost sheep. The memory of the yearning on so many faces was just beneath the surface of Maggie’s thoughts. And even though she was already a follower of Christ, she wondered how those people had felt as they made their way to the altar to proclaim their faith in their Savior and make Him the Lord of their life. The thought gave her pause. Had she completely surrendered her own life and will to Him? What might that mean for her, with her Old Order life and beliefs?

  Along with all of that, she had been pondering Glenn’s declaration that he had been healed, still wishing she knew how it had come about. He seemed so healthy.

  Will I be healed, too . . . someday? she wondered.

  Lately, these questions had kept her awake nearly every night.

  By midmorning her stepmother had stocked the cookstove with firewood and was ready to get the water boiling for the jam-filled canning jars. Aunt Nellie had been feeling a bit tired, so they missed having her fun-loving presence around to finish up the jam-making process.

  I’ll go an’ check on her later, Maggie decided, wanting to ask about one o
f Mamm’s oldest quilts, one she’d recently found at the bottom of the oak chest in her room. Aunt Nellie might know when it was made and by who.

  Maggie also wanted to ask Nellie some questions about things she’d read in the New Testament. Mamm had sometimes spoken with Nellie about certain verses, too, though not because Nellie was more knowledgeable than anyone else amongst the People. She was just someone who could be trusted to listen without questioning . . . or judging.

  After the noon meal, while the dishes were being washed, Rachel urged Maggie to go and rest for a while. Thankful for this, Maggie left for her bedroom and sat on the bed, the rag rug coarse and bumpy beneath her bare feet. She sighed. If only that robin’s song hadn’t been quite so early, she thought as she lowered herself onto the summer quilt.

  Within less than a minute, Aunt Nellie’s fluffy cat crept into the room. Siggy rarely wandered through the connecting hallway into the main house, but here he was, and meowing, too, as if to announce himself.

  Maggie had to smile as she looked down at the cat. “Are ya lost, little boy?” she whispered. But she was too worn out to get up and carry him back to Aunt Nellie’s, so when Siggy stretched and yawned, then settled onto the rag rug, purring loudly, Maggie let him stay. Soon he was asleep, his tiny nose frequently twitching.

  He’ll be fine for now, she thought, smiling. And before long, she gave in to drowsiness, too.

  ———

  In the kitchen, Rachel asked young Miriam to double-check the number of pint jars cooling on the counter before Rachel left with a batch of homemade ice cream for Nellie. The ice cream helped to cheer up Ruth, she thought, glad to do this for Nellie, as well.

  At Nellie’s back door, she knocked and waited. Noticing through the screen door that no one was in sight, she pushed open the door and slipped inside without a word, in case Nellie was resting. There, she placed the container in the icebox, then left quietly.

  On her way back to the main house, Rachel noticed Aunt Nellie peering under the large juniper bush. “What are ya lookin’ for?” she asked, going across the yard to her, surprised.

  “Well, Siggy. He’s never disappeared like this before.” Nellie looked worried and pale.

  “I’ll help ya search.” Rachel wondered if he’d somehow gotten trapped inside the closed potting shed, but she checked and saw nothing of Siggy amongst the clay pots and trowels.

  Just then, Andy came out to get water at the well for the hen house. “Are ya lookin’ for somethin’?” he asked Rachel.

  “My Siggy’s missin’,” Aunt Nellie informed him right quick. “Have ya seen him?”

  With a frown, Andy shook his head. “Ach, he’s round here somewhere.”

  Nellie nodded and wiped her face with a handkerchief she’d pulled from her pocket. “Will ya help us look?”

  “Soon as I water the chickens,” Andy said. “I’ll tell Stephen to come, too.”

  “For goodness’ sake!” Nellie said, fanning her face with the hem of her long apron. “It’s not like Siegfried to do such a thing.” She sat down on the wooden bench near the big shade tree in the backyard. “I think I need to catch my breath . . . maybe ask Gott for help.”

  “You go right ahead.” Rachel hurried over and looked under the latticework beneath the back porch, calling for the missing cat. “Where are ya, Siggy boy?”

  ———

  Hearing a voice outside her window, calling for Siggy, Maggie awoke with a start. She turned to look on the floor where the cat had been sleeping, but he was gone. Sitting up in bed, she murmured, “Ach, where’d he go?”

  Maggie reached for her cane and made her way to the kitchen. When she stepped out the side door, she saw Rachel and Aunt Nellie in the backyard in a huddle with Andy and Stephen.

  “Lookin’ for Siggy?” she asked.

  “Have ya seen him?” Aunt Nellie asked, moving this way, her face pinched into a frown.

  Maggie admitted that Siggy had wandered into her room and slept on the rug. “But when I woke up, he wasn’t there.”

  Aunt Nellie’s face broke into a grin. “Well then, he’s prob’ly wandered back home.”

  Andy and Stephen raced each other to the Dawdi Haus, and before Nellie and Rachel could even get across the yard, the boys came back outside, grinning. “We found him!” Andy hollered.

  “Thank the dear Lord,” Aunt Nellie said right out.

  Maggie took her time walking across the yard to Nellie’s, but when she stepped inside the small home, she apologized. “If only I’d gotten up and brought Siggy back the minute he came to my room, I could’ve spared ya.” She looked at poor Nellie’s overheated face.

  “Now, don’t fret, Maggie-bird,” Aunt Nellie said, shaking her head. “Siggy must love ya a lot to seek you out like that. To tell the truth, it’s kinda sweet.”

  “They even had a nap together!” Stephen declared with a big smile. “Jah, a cat nap.”

  All of them had a good, hearty laugh. But when Maggie glanced outside, she could see Leroy peering out the barn door, looking mighty curious . . . and perhaps a little sad.

  Like he feels left out. . . .

  15

  When Rachel and the boys left, Maggie stayed around to talk with Aunt Nellie in her cozy kitchen, replete with pale blue and yellow accents and more knickknacks than Mamm had ever owned. Decorative plates were on display inside the corner cupboard behind the small table, and dish towels in blues and yellows, too. With similar colors, the quilted placemats on the table added to the cheerfulness.

  “I think Siggy must’ve sensed you weren’t feelin’ so well today,” Aunt Nellie said, looking at Maggie affectionately from across the small kitchen table, near the open windows. “Pets seem to know when comfort’s needed.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that,” Maggie said. “Somehow he found his way to my room.”

  “Like I said . . .” Nellie smiled.

  “I love Siggy, but he’s not much for cuddlin’.” Maggie wished the cat would sit still on her lap like he did with Aunt Nellie. “Oh, and while we’re talkin’, I want to ask ’bout an old quilt I found in Mamm’s blanket chest the other day. I’ve never seen it before.” Maggie went on to describe the Sixteen-Patch pattern done in plain-weave cotton. “The colors are muted, but not just from age, I don’t think.”

  “Most likely that was the style of the era when it was made,” Nellie suggested.

  “Would ya like to see it sometime?” Maggie asked.

  Nellie’s face lit up. “How ’bout right now?”

  Maggie was pleased and—at least for now—dismissed the idea of discussing a few Scripture verses, as well. “Let’s be sure Siggy stays put, jah?” She closed the door to Nellie’s place before they headed into the interior hallway that led to the front room in the main farmhouse.

  In Maggie’s room, the two of them carefully removed the quilt in question from the chest at the foot of her bed. They placed it flat on top of the summer quilt already on the bed, and Aunt Nellie began to examine every square and small block, fingering the stitching. Leaning closer and squinting, she murmured to herself. “Well now,” she said at last. “It’s been many a year since I laid eyes on this special quilt.”

  “So you recognize it?” Maggie was thrilled.

  “It was made for my Mamm back when she was sick for months on end. My father’s mother and six of my aunts worked together on it—and with every stitch, they prayed for Mamm’s healing.”

  A genuine family heirloom, Maggie thought, pleased as pie. “How old would it be?”

  “Well, Mamm was married in 1864, and I was seven when she fell ill.” Aunt Nellie gave her a little grin. “Can you do the arithmetic in your head? Remember, I’m the firstborn.”

  “Born two years after your parents married?”

  “Eighteen months, to be precise.”

  Maggie closed her eyes and thought hard. “I’m guessin’ it’s seventy-eight years old.”

  Aunt Nellie nodded. “That’s right, dear. And since it was in y
our Mamm’s lovely blanket chest—however it ended up here—I say you keep it for when you set up housekeeping someday.”

  Maggie’s breath caught in her throat. But I won’t be marrying, she thought.

  “What’s a-matter?” Aunt Nellie asked. “Your face just fell like a half-baked cake.”

  Maggie couldn’t resist a smile. “Young men want strong wives, ya know. I doubt I’ll be marryin’ any time soon. If at all.”

  “Puh! That’s up to the Lord, ain’t so?” Aunt Nellie touched the quilt lovingly. “It was my Mammi Yoder’s idea to make this. Her husband was one of the preachers here in Lancaster County back in her day. Dawdi Yoder believed strongly in praying daily for God’s will. And for His healing touch, too.” Nellie’s eyes glimmered at the corners.

  “Your Dawdi was a preacher?”

  “Many decades ago.” Nellie nodded her head. “Back then prayer for the sick wasn’t talked about much in our circles. It still ain’t.” She looked back at the quilt. “Have ya ever read James, chapter five, verse fourteen, Maggie-bird?”

  Do I know the verse in James? Maggie wondered. She must have looked like she was pondering this very thing, because right then Nellie began to recite the Scripture about anyone who was ill going to the church elders to be anointed with oil, followed by prayer for healing.

  Maggie was surprised to know this was in the New Testament. And in that moment, she wished again for the opportunity to hear the rest of Glenn Brubaker’s story. Had someone prayed for him in this way? She’d never heard of prayers for healing being offered by anyone amongst the People. Even at her mother’s bedside, they had just prayed silently for God’s will to be done.

  Knowing its story, Maggie admired this wonderful old quilt all the more, with its unusual soft gray, cream, yellow, and cherry-colored blocks. She couldn’t help thinking that the Lord must have let her stumble upon it. So I could hear Aunt Nellie’s inspiring story.

  That night, when she was ready for bed, Maggie replaced the summer quilt with the heirloom Sixteen-Patch quilt, which she had aired on the clothesline the rest of the day. A comfort quilt, Maggie thought as she nestled down to read the verse Aunt Nellie had mentioned in James. She read it several times, and after she had prayed her silent rote prayers, Maggie offered thanks to God for answering the quilters’ prayers and healing Nellie’s mother all those years ago.