“Thinking about Abram?”
“I was just thinking some hot chocolate might taste gut right now,” she said, avoiding the question. “Do you have cocoa?”
“Ya. I can make it.”
“You stay put. I’ll be right back.”
“The cocoa’s in the cupboard near the stove. There should be some marshmallows in there, too, unless Saul’s been into them. He’s like a big kid with marshmallows.”
Rachel Ann stood watching the milk heat in a pan on the stove and thought about how well the couple got along even though they only knew each other for a year before they got married. They hadn’t grown up in the same community as most Amish couples who married did. The fact that couples knew each other so well was said to be the reason for the longevity of the marriages here. For a moment, she let herself imagine sharing a home with her mann like Elizabeth did with Saul. Working together to build a future together. Looking forward to starting a family together.
“Still thinking about hot chocolate?” Elizabeth asked, breaking into her thoughts.
Startled, Rachel Ann dropped the spoon she’d been stirring the chocolate with into the pan. She pulled another spoon out of a drawer, fished the first one out of the pan, and put it into the sink.
Elizabeth opened a cupboard. “Look here, Saul left the marshmallows alone.”
Rachel Ann poured the hot chocolate into mugs and watched as Elizabeth sprinkled a generous amount of mini-marshmallows into one. “Are you having hot chocolate with your marshmallows?” she asked wryly.
“I guess Saul isn’t the only one who likes them. Just give me a couple. Danki.”
Elizabeth opened the white bakery box on the table and chose a gingerbread cookie. She offered the box to Rachel Ann who shook her head. They returned to the sofa. Elizabeth put her feet up on the hassock in front of the sofa and balanced her cookie on a napkin on her baby bump. She blew on her hot chocolate to cool it, causing the mini-marshmallows to bob around.
“Mmm,” she said with a sigh. “This is good.” She looked at Rachel Ann. “So what are you going to do?”
“About what?”
“About you and Abram.”
Rachel Ann stared into her cup. “There’s nothing to do.”
“I’ve never seen you so unhappy.”
She shrugged. “I’ll be allrecht.”
“Will you? I’m not so schur.”
“I’m schur of one thing,” Rachel Ann said.
“What?” Elizabeth bit off the head of the gingerbread man.
Rachel Ann picked up the paper napkin on Elizabeth’s tummy and handed it to her. “You have a marshmallow mustache.”
“When did you get so good at changing the subject?”
“When a certain friend got to trying to be nosy.”
“You mean caring.”
She looked at Elizabeth. “Allrecht. Caring. But I don’t want to talk about it right now. Tonight’s about having fun. As soon as you finish your hot chocolate I want you to show me what you’ve done to the baby’s room.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Now who’s being over-protective? You don’t have to worry about me. I’d be a pretty selfish person if I didn’t want you to share your excitement, wouldn’t I?”
“I went through a time when I didn’t think I’d ever get pregnant again,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I just don’t want to do anything to cause you pain.”
“There’s lots of boppli and kinner in this community, lots of moms-to-be. I’ll have to get used to it. Now, finish that hot chocolate and let’s see what you’ve done to the nursery.”
* * *
She didn’t come home.
Abram kept checking the time and even opened the barn door to keep an eye out, but Rachel Ann never came home after work.
He went inside for supper, washed his hands, and sat at the table, trying not to glance at the clock.
“In a hurry to be somewhere?” his mother asked him.
He shook his head. After last night’s conversation with Rachel Ann, he doubted she’d agree to go out with him and talk. Still, he wondered where she was. Just as he put a spoonful of stew in his mouth he thought he heard a car pull into the drive of Rachel Ann’s house. He got to his feet and went to check, peeking out the window, feeling like a stalker. What he saw was a car backing out and driving on, evidently a driver who’d pulled into the wrong driveway.
When he returned to the table, his mother looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Expecting someone?”
“Rachel Ann hasn’t come home yet.” He sat, buttered a piece of cornbread, and took a bite. He knew his mother had probably figured out the two of them were seeing each other, but he hadn’t shared how their feelings for each other had grown.
“Maybe she had something to do after work.”
“Ya.” He spooned up stew, and then a thought came unbidden: maybe Rachel Ann had decided to start seeing Michael again. Maybe she’d even decided not to join the church . . .
“You could go over and ask her mother if you’re concerned.”
“Nee,” he said sharply, so sharply she blinked in surprise. “Sorry. It would make it look like I’m checking up on her.”
He finished the bowl of stew but refused a refill, which surprised his mother. “Sorry, it’s gut but I’m not hungry this evening.” He got up and put his dishes in the sink. “I think I’ll check on Ned and work for a little while on some special orders.”
“Dress warm.”
He grinned as he reached for his jacket hanging on a peg on the wall. “Yes, mamm.”
Ned stuck his head out of his stall and neighed when Abram walked into the barn.
“Thought I’d keep you company,” he told the horse, but Ned turned back to his feed and ignored him.
“Guess I’m just not popular with anyone lately,” Abram said to him.
He got out the orders, chose one, and selected the wood. The work was good for him, forcing him to concentrate and push thoughts of what had happened last night to the back of his mind.
When he finished construction of the box and set it in the drawer of the storage cabinet, he saw the one he’d made for Rachel Ann. He’d done his best work on the carved violets on the top of the box. The flowers held a special significance for them. In the spring, violets bloomed along the banks of the pond. It was their secret, special place where they talked and shared secrets for so many years.
Inside the box, he’d placed a special surprise. He wondered what her reaction to it would be.
Abram wondered if he’d even be able to give it to her. It was possible even being neighbors they wouldn’t see each other to exchange presents. If so, he’d set the box aside and let it be part of next year’s batch for the furniture store.
He had to find a way to get her to talk to him again, find out why she wanted to break it off.
Finally, his shoulders aching with tension and from bending over the work, his eyes a little gritty from lack of sleep, he gave up the effort for the night. He straightened up his work area, cleaned up his tools, and turned off the battery lamp.
“’Night, old boy,” he said, giving Ned a pat as he walked past him.
He couldn’t help glancing up at Rachel Ann’s window as he walked toward his house. It was dark. The whole house was dark. The family had apparently already gone to bed. He supposed it was possible she could have come home without him hearing, but he didn’t think so.
Maybe it was best they didn’t see each other tonight. Maybe they needed some space before they talked about something so serious. He didn’t know what to do. He just knew he was so miserable he ached, his chest raw and hurting.
Abram rubbed at his breastbone, willing the pain away. Maybe it was just indigestion, a touch of heartburn from the stew, he told himself. He was a practical man. His heart wasn’t breaking.
This time when he went to bed he fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted from a long day of chores, the special-order work, and emotional turmoil
he wasn’t used to. He woke at the time he always heard Rachel Ann’s ride come for her. But there was no van pulling up in the drive. He remembered belatedly it was her day off. He turned over and fell back asleep.
Sometime later, he woke and sat up in bed. He heard footsteps outside on the gravel drive and got up to look out the window. Rachel Ann walking toward her house. So, she’d come home late . . .
As he watched, she suddenly turned and walked between their houses, and he knew where she was going.
He fairly jumped out of bed, pulled on his pants, and hurried out of the house. He’d walked the path Rachel Ann had disappeared down so many times he could do it with his eyes shut, but there, in the snow, he saw her footprints guiding him.
She stood at the edge of the pond they’d sat beside while talking so many times, staring at something he couldn’t see. An icy wind swept through the bare tree branches, shaking the glittering icicles and creating a sound like wind chimes.
When she heard his footsteps crunching on the snow behind her she spun around, her lips parted in surprise.
“We have to talk,” he said, and his voice came out louder than he intended. He stepped forward.
Rachel Ann backed up, and her feet slipped. Her arms flailed as she tried to gain a foothold on the frozen bank.
Abram ran toward her and their fingertips touched and then hers slipped free. She slid down into the water. He jumped in.
And woke, panting and sweating, his heart pounding.
It was a long time before he slept again.
* * *
Rachel Ann smiled when she saw Sam’s little face peering out the front window of their home. He grinned and began waving at her when he saw her get out of the van.
She opened the front door, and he rushed toward her, his cast thumping on the wooden floor.
“Wachel Ann!” he cried, throwing his arms around her knees. “I missed you!”
She picked him up and hugged him. “I missed you, too! I stayed with Elizabeth last night. One day when you’re older you’ll get to go spend the night with a friend.”
“It will be fun,” their mother said fervently.
Rachel Ann looked up. She hadn’t heard her approach. Her mother looked worn out. “Fun for who?” she asked with a grin. “Sam—or you?”
Her mother gave her a weary smile.
She set her little brother down. “Sam, can you carry my purse into the kitchen and put it on the counter for me?”
“Schur,” he said. He slung the strap over his shoulder and marched off toward the kitchen.
“How about I take Sam outside to play for a little while so you can take a break?” she asked in a low voice.
“It would be wunderbaar,” her mother said. “I was going to take him for a ride on his sled, but I’m tired. It’s on the front porch. You’ll have to cover his cast so it doesn’t get wet.”
“I will.” She walked into the kitchen and found a plastic kitchen garbage bag. “Sam, do you want to go outside and play?”
His shriek of happiness pierced her eardrums.
“I guess that’s a yes,” she said with a chuckle. “We have to dress warm.”
Rachel Ann found his jacket, snow pants, and one boot. He squirmed as she drew the plastic bag up over his cast and pulled snow pants up over it and his uninjured leg. “If you don’t want to put this on we can stay inside,” she warned him.
Sam gave her his most winning smile and sat patiently while she finished dressing him and covering his little hands with mittens. When she finished she pulled a stocking cap down over his blond head and grinned at him.
“You look like a little piggy,” she said. “A little fat piggy.” She leaned down and found his neck. “Oink, oink, oink. Munch, munch, munch.”
He giggled. “Outside. Want to go outside. C’mon, Wachel Ann.”
She pulled on her gloves and boots, put one of Sam’s boots on his uninjured foot, then picked him up. “Oof, you’re heavy, little piggy!” she exclaimed.
He just giggled and waved good-bye to her mother as Rachel Ann carried him outside. She sat him on the porch stairs, dragged down the sled, and loaded him onto it. She turned in the direction away from Abram’s house, hoping he wouldn’t see she was out in the yard. Around and around the yard they went, Rachel Ann starting to huff and puff at the effort.
“How about I push you on the swing?” she asked Sam, stopping in front of the one their father had hung from a tree on the far side of the yard.
Sam shook his head. “Wanna make a snowman.”
So they made a snowman, rolling and patting snow into small, medium, and big balls. Rachel Ann assembled the balls, the biggest on the bottom, the medium sized one in the middle, and the smallest on the top. Then she straightened and caught her breath.
“Wish I’d known you wanted to do this before we came outside,” she told Sam. “We don’t have anything to make a face on him.”
Rachel Ann glanced back at the house, frowning as she thought about putting Sam back on the sled, pulling the sled, and carrying him into the house so she could get a carrot and maybe a muffler for the snowman’s neck . . .
She turned back to Sam. “Maybe we can do Mr. Snowman’s face tomorrow.”
He folded his arms across his chest, shook his head, and pouted. She sighed and resigned herself to trudging back to the house. He’d been cooped up so much with his leg being in a cast, she wanted him to enjoy himself.
She realized Sam was looking past her, a wide grin wreathing his face, and knew who was approaching before Sam cried, “Abram!”
“Sam!” he responded.
Rachel Ann didn’t want to face Abram but it would have been rude, and she’d never been rude. She turned. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He studied her intently. “How are you?”
“Gut. You?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but Sam tugged on his hand, stealing his attention.
“Abram, we need a carrot for the snowman’s nose and somethin’ for his mouth.”
“You do,” Abram agreed. “The snowman can’t talk without a mouth, can he? Not that we always get to say something, do we?”
“Huh?” Sam looked perplexed.
Rachel Ann felt color rush into her face. “If Abram will watch you for a minute, I’ll go get a carrot and some other things.”
“I’ll be happy to watch him.” His voice was as cool as the winter air.
She hurried away, went into the house, scooping up a carrot from the refrigerator and an old muffler kept at the back door, then started to rush back outside. Her steps slowed. She wasn’t eager to have to face Abram again, hear him make a mocking reference to her breaking it off with him and not allowing him to talk to her about it. She was sorry he sounded bitter. The last thing she’d wanted was to hurt him.
She walked back to where Abram stood, holding Sam up so he could put some small rocks in place for the snowman’s eyes. The snowman had sprouted small bare tree limbs for arms while she was gone.
“Here’s a carrot for his nose,” she said, holding it out to Sam. “You put the biggest end in the middle of his face.”
“I know.” Sam poked it in, and when it wobbled Abram helped screw it firmly into the snowman’s face.
Rachel Ann gasped when Abram held Sam upside down. “Grab the rocks we found for his mouth, Sam.”
Sam giggled as he picked up the rocks and Abram swung him upright. The snowman got a crooked grin made of rocks and a muffler wrapped around his neck.
“Nice job,” she told them. “Sam, we need to go in now. We’ve been out a long time.”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “Don’t wanna go in.”
“Sam, how about I find out if your mamm will let me take you for a ride on your sled tomorrow?” Abram asked him. “Then we can build a snowman in my front yard, too, if you want.”
“Allrecht,” Sam said in a plaintive voice. He sighed dramatically to let them know he wasn’t happy about going inside.
“Say dan
ki,” Rachel Ann told her brother.
“Danki, Abram.”
“You’re wilkumm.” He hugged Sam, set him on his sled, and picked up the rope to pull him.
“I can do it,” Rachel Ann said, reaching for it.
Abram just kept walking across the yard. When he reached the porch stairs he picked Sam up, then bent to grasp the sled, depositing it to the side of the front door before he handed Sam to Rachel Ann.
“Danki,” she murmured and started to pass him to go into the house, but Abram put his hand on her arm.
“We need to talk,” he said in a low voice.
She shook her head.
“Please, Rachel Ann.”
“I—can’t.”
Rachel Ann’s mother appeared at the door. “Rachel Ann—oh, hi, Abram.” She turned to her daughter. “Supper’s almost ready. Can you take off Sam’s jacket and sit him at the table?”
“Schur,” she said and hurried toward the kitchen, grateful for the chance to escape Abram.
“Can you join us for supper, Abram?” she heard her mother ask him.
Rachel Ann froze and cast a panicked look back at Abram.
Their gazes met. Something in hers must have communicated a message to him. He shook his head as he tore his eyes from Rachel Ann’s and looked at her mother.
“Nee, but danki,” he said. “I told Sam I would ask if I could take him to play in my yard and maybe make another snowman tomorrow.”
“That would be nice, Abram. Of course you may. Danki.”
“See you tomorrow then.”
Rachel Ann heard the front door close and breathed a sigh of relief. She stripped the jacket, hat, and snow pants from Sam. He patted her cheeks with his mittens, full of snow crumbs, and she shrieked. He laughed and she shook her finger at him. “Stop it!”
“Too bad Abram couldn’t stay,” her mother said she walked into the kitchen. “We haven’t seen him for some time.”
“Ya, too bad,” Rachel Ann said, and she said a silent prayer of thanks to God. It would have been so hard if Abram had stayed for supper.
17
Abram was in the midst of building a snowman with Sam the next day when he heard a buggy coming up the road. He looked up and saw that it was Saul.
One True Path Page 17
