by Beth Shriver
“You just wish you could do it as well as I can.” Caleb nodded for emphasis and started in again, louder.
Manny tapped the horse with the reins. He obliged with a quicker step that jolted Caleb back into his seat. “He must smell summer in the air.”
“Long before we did, I’m sure.” Manny smiled as he thought of Sweet Pea and Glenda being the same age; Sweet Pea should be put to pasture, but Manny needed her company now more than ever. Just a year older, at the ripe old age of thirty-one, he felt robbed of the best years he and Glenda could have had together.
“Look over there!” Caleb pointed out to the north pasture.
Manny slowed the horse to a walk and studied the dry grasses and brown dirt covering nearly fifty acres.
“Well, I’ll be darned. We found him already.” A stray coyote had been picking off farm animals at both of their places. Manny wasn’t a big hunter as some of the Amish men were, but in cases like this, he knew they had to defend their livelihood.
“He’s heading back toward your place.”
“I suppose I should turn around before he gets any closer to the chicken coop; that’s the first thing he goes for.”
Caleb leaned with the wagon as Manny turned around. “Him being alone makes ya wonder if there’s something wrong with him. Maybe hurt or too young and inexperienced to bring down bigger prey.”
“He left the pack for some good reason or they got rid of him. Might be sick.”
Manny had lost the resilience for death and wondered whether he would be able to pull the trigger. He’d done it whenever it was necessary before, but not since Glenda’s death. He sighed. Even dealing with a coyote involved her. There was a time he would have taken care of this coyote without another thought, but this time he knew better than to even try.
“You all right?” Caleb stared at him more than at the coyote. Knowing he’d never get away with a lie, Manny just didn’t answer.
Caleb jumped out of the barely moving wagon, and Manny hopped down onto the moist dirt road after him. A drizzle of icy rain had covered the land overnight, but the morning sun was melting it away.
“I’m right behind ya, Caleb.” As soon as he had his rifle in his hand, he heard a gunshot and jolted back as the sound traveled down the field, followed by a scream.
“Caleb!” Manny ran to the edge of the road where Caleb stood with rifle in hand, his eyes staring farther down the road. Manny followed his gaze to an Amish woman, but he couldn’t make out her face. She held on tightly to a rope with a horse by her side—his horse, Sweet Pea.
Manny took off running and didn’t stop until he got to her. He slid on the gravel road, coming to a stop, and instinctually reached for the woman’s hand. “Are you all right?”
She flinched and pulled away, but then nodded quickly and brought her hand up over her cheek. “The shot, it surprised me.”
“I’m sorry, we didn’t see you there.” Manny had met the woman before, but he didn’t see her around much. Their community was large enough that a number of different groups met for church, so he thought he should introduce himself. “I’m Manny Keim.”
“I know who you are.” Her eyes lifted, but she kept her head down. Dark strands of hair whipped around her thin neck, and her soiled black dress was wrinkled, probably testimony to a busy day working on the farm.
He took the lead rope from her and rubbed Sweet Pea’s side to calm her down. “How did you end up with my horse?”
“Found her running wild around our place.” She almost smiled when she glanced at Sweet Pea. The horse seemed to have that effect on people.
“We’ve lost some livestock due to that coyote.” Manny looked away and to the field where Caleb was walking. “Have you had any trouble with the coyotes around your place? Sam’s farm, right?”
“Nee, maybe you should make stronger coverage for the animal enclosures.” She glanced over toward Manny, revealing her left-side cheekbone and skinny frame—too skinny for his liking. He wondered whether she’d been ill. It couldn’t be that they didn’t have enough food on the table; Sam’s place was always thriving. Then he thought back to what she’d said and chuckled.
“I happen to have solid coops for the chickens and adequate fence lines for the larger stock . . . ” He held a grin as he explained, but she stepped back and slowly shook her head. His voice tapered off and drizzled away like the water on the frosty ground when the sun beat down on it.
She turned to her right side and then looked down at her worn boots. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just hate to see anything get hurt.”
He turned back to see that she had looked at Caleb and then turned away. “Jah, me too.” An awkward moment passed, and he was pleased to think of something to say. “Do you need a ride?” The more he looked at her, the longer she stared at the ground. “It’s no bother.”
She glanced over just long enough to see him walking back to the wagon. “Danke, but nee.”
“Hallo there, Lucy. Haven’t seen you for some time. How’s Sam?” Caleb rested his hand on his hip, huffing out small breaths.
Manny felt bad for not helping him, but not only did he not want to have anything to do with what just happened, he had also become intrigued with this woman standing in front of him practically swallowed whole by the big dress she was wearing. She seemed timid, but firm in what she thought. He suspected she just didn’t express it often, which was why it captured his attention that she’d spoken out to him concerning his animal enclosures and the coyote.
“Fine, danke for asking, Caleb.” When she glanced up at Caleb, Manny saw the darkness in her eyes—something darker than the deep brown of her pupils.
When she noticed him staring at her, she shifted her weight, keeping her hand on her cheek.
“How are ya feeling?” Caleb’s brows lifted.
“We’re both well, danke.”
“Gut to hear! It’s nice seeing you out and about. Where are you headed?” Caleb seemed to want the conversation to continue, which didn’t make sense to Manny. This young woman had shown very clearly she wasn’t comfortable, yet he kept going on.
Manny tied Sweet Pea to the back of the wagon, listening to them.
“Going to the haus, but I can walk.”
“Nee, come on, I’ll sit in the back.” Caleb made his way on to the flatbed before she could say no. “Help her up, Manny.”
Manny shook himself into action, not thinking of his manners. “Ach, sure.” He went around to his side of the wagon and offered her his hand. When she reached out with her left hand and held his grasp, a shock of electricity sparked. She yanked her hand away from his.
Caleb chuckled. “Whoa. If we had electricity around here, I’d say you two just shut down a converter.”
Manny chuckled, and Lucy actually gave him a small smile, adjusting herself on the seat.
“Are you comfortable?” Manny didn’t know what ailed her, but he wanted to make her as comfortable as possible. He noticed she held the hand that touched his turned up on her lap. “Does your hand hurt?”
She pulled the sleeves on the dress over her arms and tucked her free hand on the bench. “Nee, I’m gut.” The smile hadn’t left her lips. “Where is your farm?”
He was both surprised and glad that she was talking to him. “Two farms back, with the blue porch swing.”
“
That’s your haus?” She actually turned to him and smiled wider. “I like that color of blue.” She finally dropped her hand far enough for Manny to see a patch of dark skin from a lingering bruise.
Manny saw Caleb smile out of the corner of his eye. He knew more about Lucy than Manny did, and Manny was determined to find out about this mysterious woman by his side. “I wondered if anyone would complain, but even Minister Eben sat down on it and had himself a leisurely swing.”
“That sounds nice.” She kept her eyes on the road, but she said it in a way that he was sure she meant it. Her shoulders eased down against the back of the seat, as if she would melt into the wooden slats on which she was seated.
“I think summer might come early this year.” Caleb filled the gap once again as he looked to the sky as if it had told him the weather.
“It’s this place here.” She pointed to a tall silo towering above the trees.
Manny drove down the long dirt path that led to Lucy’s home. There were acres of land spread in all directions. “This here’s a lot of land to care for.”
Lucy let out a sigh. “Jah, it is.”
“Let me help you down.” Manny ran around to her side and gave her a hand, then realized when she teetered to one side that he’d need two. Looking at her petite size, he was surprised helping her down was so awkward.
The sound of a door and then a squeaky screen door caused them to turn toward the haus. Sam stood tall, his eyes squinting, taking them all in. “Caleb, what’s going on here?” He yanked a chunk of hard bread in two and starting chewing a piece like he was eating beef jerky. His eyes rested on Lucy as he waited for a reply.
Manny felt the need to stand up for her. “We were out after that coyote that’s been causing trouble.” He nodded toward Lucy, who was twisting the front of her dress, revealing why her dress looked the way it did. “Ran into Lucy, so we brought her home.”
Judging by the look on Sam’s face, there wouldn’t be any thanks for that, so Manny tipped his hat to Lucy and nodded to Sam. He walked around to the other side of the wagon and climbed in.
Caleb stayed in the back. “What a pitiful thing. She didn’t look well.”
Manny was glad he wasn’t the only one to see it and wondered what was going on. As they waved and turned around to head down the path, Manny had half a mind to go back, pick her up, and take her to his home, but from the way Sam stared after them, he decided that wouldn’t be a smart thing to do.
He glanced back at Caleb. “Is she sick?”
“Could be—with morning sickness.”
The scent of cinnamon lingered in the air as Lucy walked through her mammi’s family room and in to the kitchen. “Sticky buns?”
Three sets of eyes turned her way as she stepped into the large room with too many chairs in disarray around an oak table. Steam sputtered up through a boiling pot, warming Lucy’s cheeks.
Frieda, her mamm’s mother, nodded her head, fuzzy gray strands popping out of her kapp. She hiked up her black dress and walked over with a bowl of chopped walnuts. “Just in time to spread the nuts.”
“Come over and give us a hug.” Nellie, the oldest of the three widows, wiggled her white eyebrows as she strolled over with a smile stretched across her face. Her embrace warmed the broken places in Lucy’s heart. When they released their hug, the feeling of security lingered.
Rosanna, or Rosy for short, seemed like a youngster compared to the other two women, with rosy cheeks to match her name. She took Lucy’s hand and guided her to the counter where the dough to make homemade noodles was ready to cut. “You have to make them with just the right thickness. Too thick, and they’re doughy; too thin, and they look like shriveled-up worms.” She lifted her nose.
“I’ll need more flour.” Lucy jumped right in with the others and was soon in rhythm with the hum and glow of the room. Here she found peace, acceptance, and unconditional love with these beautiful women. It wasn’t physical beauty but a certain way of living and thinking that kept their eyes lifted up to the Lord and their hands never idle.
“These are going to be great.” Nellie came closer with her hooked cane, which she wagged toward the noodle dough.
“You all know how to talk me into something.” Lucy grinned, knowing they were glad for her presence and appreciated her help just as much. Cooking was their life, always keeping them busy, and the tourists appreciated their mouthwatering meals, pastries, and preserves. This was what they did, along with a good bit of chatting. The exception was Nellie, whose quilting took up a good part of her days.
“How are you feeling, Luce?” Frieda asked without taking her eyes off the knife she was using to chop more walnuts.
“Oh, yes, the baby.” Nellie’s memory wasn’t what it used to be, and Lucy, like the rest of them, gave her pardon for forgetting even the most important events.
Lucy looked into Frieda’s soft, wrinkled face and smiled. “He’s just fine. Kicking up a storm, though.” She knew what was next and relished the coming conversation. She felt sure that no one cared more about this babe than these three ladies. Not even her own husband.
“You stand firm that it’s a boy, yet you told us when you first found out you were pregnant that you wanted a girl.” Frieda stopped chopping long enough to glance at Lucy.
Lucy shrugged. “As long as the baby is in good health, I don’t care which.” But she did care very deeply, as she knew Sam wanted a boy. Pleasing him was most important, and Sam wanted a son to help with the farm and carry on his legacy. There were times Lucy wished she weren’t pregnant . . . at least not now . . . not with Sam.
Rosy set a glass of milk on the counter where Lucy was cutting the dough. “I’d like to be auntie to a cute little girl with a button nose just like yours, Lucy.” She tapped Lucy’s nose and smiled.
“And if she had Lucy’s pretty red hair . . . ” Nellie looked at the strands of auburn curls that had escaped her kapp. “You just don’t see that color very often.”
Frieda waved a hand. “What’s that matter when it’ll be stuffed up in her kapp?” Then she grinned. “But what a cute little kapp that would be.”
The three of them stopped and glanced at Frieda, as it wasn’t common for her to make such a sweet remark. She was just as much in love with this little one as the rest of them, and they’d just caught her sharing her thoughts. Lucy didn’t expect them to have the same opinion about much of anything. Their individuality was what Lucy appreciated the most, and it filled every spot of her bleeding heart.
Mammi stopped chopping and put her hands on her hips. “Have you heard from your mamm?”
Lucy cringed. “Jah, a long letter giving me orders about her trip down here.”
Lucy bit her tongue. She’d thought Frieda had tried to bring up the subject lightly, but there was nothing about their relationship that was light. Still, she selfishly appreciated Frieda’s response because it was the same as hers when she got her mamm’s letter. “Did she say in your letter how long she was staying?”
“Nee.” Lucy glanced with uncertainty at Frieda.
“Well, because you’re with child, I’ll take her in. You don’t need the added stress; you’ve already got that with Sam.”
The room went silent. Although Sam’s verbal abuse was known to her mammi, Lucy knew it was against Scripture to talk against your husband, and she tried to follow His Word.
“It’s all right
. It might be easier if she’s with me.” Lucy wasn’t sure if that was true, but she couldn’t expect the two of them to last more than a few days before her mamm would be on her doorstep if she came here.
Rosy, the peacemaker, surveyed their facial expressions and stepped in. “Nee, we’ll take turns.”
Nellie stuck out her bottom lip in thought. “Jah, we’ll share the load.” Then she chuckled. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Frieda grinned. “Sugarcoating things doesn’t help matters. We’ll all take care of what we need to do and pray that everyone’s on their best behavior.” All eyes were on her again. She sighed. “Jah, I was saying that more to myself than any of you. Now you can hold me to it.”
A knock at the door made them stop their work momentarily. The click-clack of Frieda’s shoes faded as she walked out of the kitchen. Although this was her haus, Rosy and Nellie had made the large haus their home as well. Lucy sometimes wished she lived with them; the mood and atmosphere were relaxing and soothed her mind.
Frieda came back in with someone walking up behind her. “Ladies, we have a visitor.” They stopped working and greeted their guest as he came into the kitchen, but Lucy didn’t respond.
When she did turn around, Manny caught her eye. She looked downward on her work, unable to hide her cheek with a dough-covered hand. He nodded to her and then Rosy, who walked over to him and guided him to the table.
Seeing him again so soon caught Lucy off guard. She compared him to Sam, as Manny was everything Sam wasn’t. Gentle and kind, he was soft-spoken but even from a distance she knew he was willing to stand up against injustice or mistreatment of others. She knew how he had treated his wife; she had seen it when his wife was ill and Lucy had brought meals to them. Lucy decided to stop comparing. She despaired of ever having that kind of love, but she was grateful to have a haus over her head and dear friends to keep her spirits up. It was selfish to ask for more.
