by Jo Ann Brown
“He can stay here,” Nathaniel said quietly.
“Are you sure?” her brother asked, surprised.
“I’ve got plenty of room,” Nathaniel said, “and the boy seems fascinated by my alpacas.”
Isaiah looked at her for confirmation.
She nodded, knowing it was the best solution under the circumstances.
“I’ll let Reuben know.” He sighed again. “Just in case.”
“Tell the bishop that Jacob can stay here as long as he needs to,” Nathaniel said.
“That should work out...unless his onkel dies. Then the Bureau of Children and Family Services will have to get involved.”
Nathaniel frowned, standing as resolute as one of the martyrs of old.
Before he could retort, Esther said, “Let’s deal with one problem at a time.” She prayed it wouldn’t get to that point. And if it did, there must be some plan to give Jacob the family he needed without Englisch interference. She had no idea what, but they needed to figure it out fast.
Chapter Four
Esther looked around for Jacob as soon as her brother left. Isaiah was bound for their bishop’s house. He and Reuben planned to hire an Englisch driver to take them to the hospital where they would check on Titus Fisher.
She wasn’t surprised Jacob had left the other scholars and gone to watch the alpacas. The boy stood by the fence, his fingers stuck through the chicken wire in an offer for the shy beasts to come over and sniff them. The alpacas were ignoring him from the far end of the pasture.
The sight almost broke her heart. Jacob, who was small for his age and outwardly fragile, stood alone as he reached out to connect with another creature.
“Are you okay?” asked Nathaniel as he walked beside her toward the pasture.
“Not really.” She squared her shoulders, knowing she must not show the kind how sorry she felt for him. Jacob reacted as badly to pity as he did to teasing. He’d endured too much during his short life.
Suddenly she stopped and put out her arm to halt Nathaniel. He frowned at her, but, putting her fingers to her lips, she whispered, “Shhh...”
In the pasture, one of the younger alpacas inched away from the others, clearly curious about the boy who had been standing by the fence for so long. The light brown female stretched out her neck and sniffed the air as if trying to determine what sort of animal Jacob was. Glancing at the rest of the herd, she took one step, then another toward him.
The boy didn’t move, but Esther guessed his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. A smile tipped his lips, the first one she’d ever seen on his face.
In the distance, the voices of the other scholars fluttered on the air, but Nathaniel and Esther remained as silent as Jacob. The alpaca’s curiosity overcame her shyness, and she continued toward the boy. His smile broadened on every step, but he kept his outstretched fingers steady.
The alpaca paused an arm’s length away, then took another step. She extended her head toward his fingertips, sniffing and curious.
Beside her, Esther heard Nathaniel whisper, “Keep going, girl. He needs you now.”
Her heart was touched by his empathy for the kind. Nathaniel’s generous spirit hadn’t changed. He’d always been someone she could depend on, the very definition of a gut friend. He still was, offering kindness to a lonely boy. Her fingers reached out to his arm, wanting to squeeze it gently to let him know how much she appreciated his understanding of what Jacob needed.
Her fingers halted midway between them as a squeal came from near the house where the other scholars must be playing a game. At the sound, the alpaca whirled and loped back to the rest of the herd.
“Almost,” Jacob muttered under his breath.
Walking to the boy, Esther fought her instinct to put her hand on his shoulder. That would send him skittering away like the curious alpaca. “It’ll take them time to trust you, Jacob, but you’ve made a gut beginning.”
When he glanced at her, for once his face wasn’t taut with determination to hide his pain. She saw something she’d never seen there before.
Hope.
“Do you think so?” he asked.
She nodded. She must be as cautious with him as she was with the alpacas. “It’ll take time and patience on your part, but eventually they learn to trust.”
“Eventually?” His face hardened into an expression no kind should ever wear. “I guess that’s that, then. We’ll be leaving for school soon, ain’t so?”
He’d given her the opening to tell him the bad news Isaiah had brought. She must tell him the truth now, but she must be careful how she told him until they were sure about Titus Fisher’s prognosis.
“Jacob, I need to tell you about something that’s happened,” she began.
“If Jay said it was my fault, he’s lying!” Jacob clenched his hands at his sides. “Benny tipped over Jay’s glass, but said I did it. I didn’t! I always tell the truth!”
Tears welled in the boy’s eyes, and she saw his desperate need for her to believe him. And she did. Unlike some kinder, Jacob always admitted what he’d done wrong...if he were caught.
She squatted in front of him, so her eyes were even with his. Aware of Nathaniel behind her, she said quietly, “Nobody has said anything about a glass. This has nothing to do with the other kinder.”
“Then what?” He was growing more wary by the second.
“I wanted to let you know your onkel isn’t feeling well, so he went to see some doktors who will try to help him.”
“Is it his heart?” Jacob’s hands loosened, and he folded his arms over his narrow chest. Was he trying to protect himself?
When she glanced at Nathaniel, he looked as shocked as she felt at the forthright question. Clearly the boy was aware of his onkel’s deteriorating health. Jacob Fisher was a smart kind. She mustn’t forget that, as the other scholars did far too often, underestimating his intelligence as well as how brittle his patience was.
“Ja,” she answered. “The doktors want to observe him. That means—”
“They want to watch what his heart does so they can find out why it’s giving him trouble.” He gave a careless shrug, but he couldn’t hide the fear burning in his eyes. “Onkel Titus explained to me the last time he went to the clinic.”
She wanted to let him know it was okay to show his distress, but she wouldn’t push. Ja, he was scared, but Titus had prepared the boy. She reminded herself that Jacob didn’t know the full extent of what had happened. For now, it would be better not to frighten him further. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if his onkel didn’t recover. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears prickling her eyes.
And that would scare Jacob more.
* * *
Nathaniel saw Esther struggling to hold on to her composure. He should have urged her to let him talk to Jacob alone. Unlike him, she knew Titus Fisher, and she must be distressed by the old man’s stroke.
He drew her to her feet. He tried to ignore the soft buzz where his palms were spread across her arms. Releasing her because he needed to focus on the boy, he was amazed when the sensation still coursed along his hands.
Trying to ignore it, he said, “Jacob, under the circumstances, I think Esther would agree with me when I say you don’t need to go back to school today.”
“I don’t?” Glee brightened his face for a moment, then it vanished. “Then I’ll have to go to my onkel’s house by myself.”
Nathaniel tried not to imagine what the boy was thinking. The idea of returning to an empty house where he’d be more alone than ever must be horrifying to Jacob. Knowing he must pick his words with care, he said, “I thought you might want to stay here.”
“With the alpacas?” Jacob’s eyes filled with anticipation.
Nathaniel struggled to keep his smile in
place as he wondered if that expression would have been visible on Jacob’s face more often if he hadn’t watched his parents die and been sent to live with an elderly onkel. Titus Fisher had provided him with a gut home, or as gut as he could. The old man had protected his great-nephew from the realities of his failing health by telling him enough to make this moment easier for the boy.
What would Jacob—or Esther—say if he revealed how his own childhood had been filled with doktors and fear? His mamm had overreacted any time he got a cold, and his daed had withdrawn. If it hadn’t been for their Englisch neighbor, Reggie O’Donnell, who’d welcomed Nathaniel at his greenhouses whenever he needed an escape, there would have been no break from the drama at home. The retired engineer had let Nathaniel assist and never made him talk or wash his hands endlessly or avoid playing with other kinder because he might get some germ that would bring on another bout of what they called “the scourge.”
Though the Englisch doktors had assured his parents that, upon the completion of the treatments, Nathaniel had no more chance than any other person of contracting cancer again, they never could let go of their fear. He suspected that was one of the reasons his mamm insisted he return to Indiana. She wanted to keep an eye on him every second to make sure the scourge didn’t return.
Was Titus Fisher a sanctuary for Jacob as Reggie had been for Nathaniel? Someone who didn’t talk about the past or what might await in the future? Had he, like Reggie, been someone with a heart big enough to offer a haven for a lonely, lost kind?
Grief for the old man and the boy hammered Nathaniel. “Ja,” he said, “you can stay here with me and the alpacas, if you’d like.”
“And if I don’t like?” Jacob asked cautiously.
Esther looked away, and he knew she was having difficulty keeping her feelings from showing. As he was. No kind Jacob’s age should have to ask such a question. The boy had learned life could change in the blink of an eye. He probably hadn’t had any say in where he would go after his parents’ funeral.
“Then other arrangements will be made for you, and you can come and visit the alpacas.”
Jacob shook his head. “No, I want to stay here. I think I can get one of them to come to me if I’ve got enough time.”
“Then it’s settled.” Nathaniel tried to curb the sudden disquiet rising in him at the thought of being responsible for the boy. Dear Lord, help me know the right things to do and say while he’s here. He forced a smile. “We’ll work together to convince the alpacas to trust us. It’ll be fun.”
“It will!” The boy turned to look at the herd again. “Let’s start now.”
“I have to take everyone back to school.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Can I stay here? Onkel Titus let me stay by myself.”
Unsure if Jacob was being truthful or not, in spite of his assertion that he always was honest, Nathaniel hesitated.
Esther didn’t. “If it’s okay with you, Nathaniel, I can drive everyone to school. I’ll take your wagon to our farm tonight. You can come and get it when it’s convenient.”
Again he hesitated. He’d planned to leave early tomorrow to get the hay for winter feedings, but those plans must change.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll help you hook Sal and Gal to the wagon. Do you know how to handle mules?”
“Ja. A little, but my brothers will know because Daed had a team to plow the fields. Ezra will make sure they’re taken care of tonight.”
He had no choice but to agree or upset Jacob further. He couldn’t blame the boy for not wanting to spend more time with his classmates, especially now.
“I’ll be right back,” Nathaniel said.
“Can I go into the pasture?” asked Jacob.
“Maybe later tonight when I feed them. Let’s see how they’re behaving then.”
He thought the boy would argue, but Jacob nodded. “I’ll wait here for you.”
For a moment, Nathaniel wished the boy had protested like a regular kid. He remembered times, especially when he was going through chemo, when he’d found himself trying to be gut so he didn’t upset the adults around him more. It hadn’t been easy to swallow his honest reactions. His respect for Jacob grew, but the boy’s maturity also concerned him. A kind needed to be a kind, not some sort of miniature adult.
When he said as much to Esther as they walked into the barn to get the mules, she sighed and stole a glance at where the boy was gazing at the alpacas once more. “I worry about him when he’s cooperative and when he’s fighting. It’s as if he can’t find a middle path.”
“He probably can’t. When everything inside you is in a turmoil, it’s hard to trust your own feelings. Most especially when you’ve let them loose in the past and people haven’t reacted well. Instead they’ve told you how you should feel so many times you begin to wonder if they’re right and you’re wrong.”
She paused as he kept walking toward where he kept the harnesses for the mules. When he turned to see why she’d stopped, she said, “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
Emotions he couldn’t decipher scuttled across her face. He wanted to ask what she was thinking, but satisfying his curiosity would have to wait. She hurried past him, murmuring how she’d told the scholars’ mamms she’d have everyone back by now. They’d spent more than an hour longer at the farm than she’d planned.
As he put Sal and Gal into place and hooked them to the wagon, Nathaniel glanced at Jacob standing by the alpacas’ pasture, and then to the other kinder racing about by the house. The difference was unsettling, and he wondered if it was possible for Jacob to become carefree again. He had to believe so.
He looked across the mules at Esther, who was checking the reins. “Do you think we should let him continue to believe his onkel’s heart is why Titus was taken to the hospital?”
“I don’t know.” Her expression matched her unsteady words. “Let me talk to Isaiah when he gets back.”
“A gut idea.”
“Are you sure you want Jacob to stay with you? Is that why you asked?”
“No. I’m sure staying here is best for him now. The boy needs something to do to get his mind off the situation, and the alpacas can help.”
She nodded. When she called to the other kinder to pack their things and prepare to leave, there were the protests Nathaniel had expected to hear. She handled each one with humor and serenity. She was a stark contrast to his mamm and his older sisters who saw everything as a potential tragedy.
He smiled as the scholars clambered onto the flatbed. When they passed him, each of them said, “Danki.” Telling them to have a gut ride to school, he held his hand out to assist Esther onto the seat.
She regarded him with surprise, and he had to fight not to smile. Now that reaction reminded him of Esther the Pester, who’d always asserted she could do anything the older boys did...and all by herself.
Despite that, she accepted his help. The scent of her shampoo lingered in his senses. He was tempted to hold on to her soft fingers, but he released them as soon as she was sitting. He was too aware of the kinder and other women gathered behind her.
She picked up the reins and leaned toward him. “If it becomes too difficult for you, bring him to our house.”
“We’ll be fine.” At that moment, he meant it. When her bright blue eyes were close to his, he couldn’t imagine being anything but fine.
Then she looked away, and the moment was over. She slapped the reins and drove the wagon toward the road. He watched it go. A sudden shiver ran along him. The breeze was damp and chilly, something he hadn’t noticed while gazing into Esther’s pretty eyes.
The sound of the rattling wagon vanished in the distance, and he turned to see Jacob standing by the fence, his fingers through the chicken wire again in the hope an alpaca would come to him. The kind had no idea of what could lie ahe
ad for him.
Take him into Your hands, Lord. He’s going to need Your comfort in the days to come. Make him strong to face what the future brings, but let him be weak enough to accept help from us.
Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel walked toward the boy. He’d agreed to take care of Jacob and offer him a haven at the farm. Now he had to prove he could.
Chapter Five
As Jacob helped with the afternoon chores, which included cleaning up after the alpacas and refilling their water troughs, Nathaniel watched closely. He knew Esther would want to know how the boy did in the wake of the news about his onkel. She worried about him as if he were her own kind. Nathaniel suspected she was that way with each of her scholars.
Jacob didn’t say much, but he was comfortable doing hard work. Nathaniel wondered how many of the chores at Titus Fisher’s house had become Jacob’s responsibility as the old man’s health declined. He seemed happy to remain behind, which was no surprise. A chance to skip school was something any kid would enjoy, but Nathaniel couldn’t help wondering what the boy was thinking.
One thing he knew from his own childhood. Growing boys were always hungry.
Flashing Jacob a smile and a wink, he asked, “How about grabbing a snack before we feed the alpacas?”
“Whatcha got?”
Nathaniel chuckled as he motioned for the boy to follow him toward the house. Jacob seemed to walk a fine line between being a kind and being a wraith who floated through each day, not connecting with anyone else.
“I know there’s church spread in the fridge,” he answered.
Jacob grinned, and Nathaniel was glad he’d guessed what the boy would like. There weren’t too many people who didn’t enjoy the combination of peanut butter and marshmallow creme. Keeping it around allowed him to slap together a quick sandwich when he had scant time for dinner or was too tired to cook anything for supper.
“What else do you have to eat with it?” Jacob asked.
“We’ll look through the kitchen. A treasure hunt without a map. Who knows what we might find?”
