Unbreakable

by Nancy Mehl

  I still hadn’t come up with an acceptable plan by the time Papa returned with Aaron in tow. Aaron had arrived in town almost four years ago, asking permission to buy a house and live here. He met with the elders, who’d approved his request to become one of us, but whatever personal information he’d given them had stayed private. He refused to talk about his past, no matter how innocent the questions posed to him. His standard answer was always, “The past is the past, and I have no interest in talking about it.” I was extremely curious about him, but so far I hadn’t been able to discover anything even remotely interesting.

  “Hello, Brother Metcalf,” I said when he stepped inside. “Thank you for agreeing to help Papa bring our buggy home. We appreciate it.” When Papa looked at me strangely, I realized my hair was still down. I’d been so distracted by my failure to bring back the fabric from Washington, I’d forgotten all about it. I tried to pull my wild locks back, feeling mortified that Aaron had seen me appearing in such an unseemly manner. I picked up a stray ribbon under the counter and quickly tied my hair back from my face. A twinge of pain gripped my arm, and I tried not to wince. No point in drawing more attention to myself than I already had today.

  Aaron looked me over with surprise. “I’m glad to help, Sister Hope. Your father says you weren’t badly hurt, but I must admit that you look a little worse for wear.”

  I smiled at him. “To be honest, I feel somewhat bruised and beaten up. I’ll be glad to clean up and tend to my scratches.”

  “Well, I think we should get going,” Papa said. “And like my daughter, I am grateful you can find time away from your projects to help us.”

  Before leaving, Papa came over and kissed me on the forehead. “Why don’t we have supper at Lizzie’s tonight? You must be weary after your experience.”

  “I’d like that. Thank you.” I tried to keep my tone light, but I was still upset with the way he’d treated Jonathon. Bribing me with a trip to the restaurant wasn’t going to change my feelings.

  He put his hand on my cheek and looked into my eyes. “I am so thankful you are safe. God is good. I could not bear to lose you.”

  My heart melted a little, and I put my hand over his. “You won’t lose me, Papa. Please don’t worry.”

  He squeezed my fingers and blinked away tears. “I am trying, Daughter, but sometimes casting my care on the Lord is more difficult than it should be.”

  “I know.” I forced a smile. “But I’m perfectly fine. Shall we leave for Lizzie’s as soon as you return?”

  He glanced at the small battery-operated clock we kept on the counter. “Yes. Why don’t you clean up and close the store a little early? You may want to rest some.”

  I nodded. “Will you give Daisy some water before you leave? I’m sure she’s thirsty after our long trip.”

  “Yes, I will do that.” He hugged me again, which surprised me, since Papa wasn’t usually very demonstrative in front of other people. I said good-bye to Aaron, and they left.

  I watched Aaron gently help my father up into the cab of his truck, obviously aware that he was having some trouble with his joints. Several townspeople who passed by greeted Aaron with enthusiasm. The whole town was excited about the new store. Of course, Lizzie was thrilled at the prospect of buying more of her restaurant supplies in town. Although she bought a lot of food items from local farmers, there were some things that could only be found in larger cities like Washington. Having a general store would cut down on weekly treks out of town for the supplies she needed to keep her business running.

  After Papa and Aaron drove away, I headed to the back room to fix my hair and try to make myself more presentable. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a piece of polished tin Papa had purchased for the roof of our chicken coop. Horrified by how disheveled I looked, I untied the ribbon holding back my hair and shook it out. Jonathon had said that I looked like an angel, but I doubted seriously that angels were this dirty and messy. I got some water from the pump out back and washed myself off the best I could. Then I treated my scratches with Mercurochrome and put bandages on the larger cuts. Thankfully, I had an extra apron in the closet. I brushed the dirt and leaves out of my hair, pulled it into a bun, and put on a fresh prayer covering. One final glance in my makeshift tin mirror revealed the Hope Kauffman I was used to seeing. Gone was the wild-looking girl with the long, unkempt hair.

  I was just starting my chores when the front door opened and Ebbie stepped inside. “Hope, I heard you were assaulted on the road. Are you all right?”

  I smiled at him. “I’m fine, and I’m not sure I was assaulted. Someone in a truck thought it would be funny to force me into the ditch.”

  Seeing Ebbie made me feel better. I loved his ginger-colored hair that seemed to have no idea where it wanted to lie on his head and his deep brown eyes that reminded me of turned-over earth before planting begins.

  “Still, it sounds like you could have been hurt.” He came around the counter and put his hand on my cheek. “If anything had happened to you . . .”

  I was startled to hear him use the same words Jonathon had used earlier and stumbled over my reply. “I-I’m all right, Ebbie. Honestly.”

  He reached down and kissed me lightly on the cheek, and then he smiled at me. “I would give my life to protect you, Hope. I love you so much.”

  I felt my eyes mist. “And I love you too.”

  He looked me over and frowned. “You do look a little banged up. Maybe you should sit down. I can help you in the shop if you want.”

  I laughed. “No, really. I’m not incapacitated. Just bruised, scratched, and a little humiliated.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. “I’m so grateful to Brother Wiese. If he hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have happened.”

  Ebbie took a few steps back. “Jonathon Wiese? He was there?”

  My face suddenly felt warm, and I hoped I wasn’t blushing. “Yes. He was on his way back from Washington and drove up just as the man in the truck was getting ready to take another run at me. Jonathon chased him away.”

  Ebbie’s eyes widened. “Oh, I had no idea. I’ll have to thank him when I see him.”

  I nodded, wondering why I suddenly felt so uncomfortable. “That would be nice.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not necessary. I’m sure you have things to do.”

  “As a matter of fact, I did tell Ruth Fisher I’d come by and check her roof.”

  I grinned. “The trials of an elder.”

  He smiled. “It may not sound very spiritual, but God tells us that true religion is caring for the widows and the orphans.”

  “I’m sure Ruth is very appreciative of your help.”

  He patted his lean stomach. “She knows I love her peach cobbler, so there is always some waiting for me. Payment in full as far as I’m concerned.”

  “So I should ask for her recipe and make peach cobbler for you after we’re married?”

  He laughed. “And here I didn’t think you could be any more perfect than you already are.” Ebbie glanced at the clock sitting on the counter. “I’d better get going. Do you have plans this evening?”

  “Papa mentioned going to the restaurant for dinner.”

  “Good. I’ll try to meet you. I’m not sure how long I’ll be at Ruth’s. If I’m not there by the time you’re ready to order, go ahead. Don’t wait for me.”

  “All right. But I hope you make it.”

  “Me too.”

  He brought his other hand around from behind his back and held out a bouquet of forget-me-nots. “Do you remember the first time I gave you flowers?” he asked softly.

  I smiled at him and took the flowers. “We were only twelve, and you left them on my desk at school.”

  He nodded. “But I was too shy to tell you they were from me.”

  “And I had no idea who put them there. I didn’t think of you. We were just friends.”

 
He gazed deeply into my eyes. “You thought we were just friends. I’ve loved you ever since you were seven. Your mother died and you needed a shoulder to cry on. You sat next to me on the front porch and leaned your head against me. I put my arm around you while you sobbed. I knew then that we were meant to be together.”

  “Every time you tell that story I find myself wishing I’d known how you felt. Maybe I would have wanted to get married a long time ago.”

  He laughed warmly and kissed me on the nose. “That’s all right. You’ve made up for any slight from our childhood.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Ebbie smiled at me once more and then walked out the door.

  After it closed behind him, I found myself comparing him to Jonathon. Ebbie was thin and lacked Jonathon’s muscular physique. The two men were opposites in most other ways as well. Jonathon was confident and personable, whereas Ebbie was quiet and reserved, a deep thinker. Yet sometimes, when he got excited about something, he reminded me of an overenthusiastic child. The simplest things fascinated him. His zest for life wasn’t something most people got to see, but I’d been blessed to know the real Ebbie. Although I couldn’t say I’d fallen in love when we were young, I’d always felt comfortable around him. Perhaps that was one of the reasons it was so easy to love him now.

  Even though Papa suggested I close early, I knew there were still chores to be done, so I got busy. Being alone in the quilt shop made me feel peaceful and happy. I carefully polished the wooden table and four chairs that Papa had crafted. I’d spent many happy hours sitting there, giving lessons in quilting to some of the young women in Kingdom. The pleasant scent of lemon oil filled the room. Then I got a feather duster and dusted the display window next to the door, carefully removing the quilts I’d made and shaking them out. Once they were back in place, I dusted all the shelves that held quilt patterns, colorful spools of thread, embroidery floss, quilting pins, and needles.

  I found the quilting and embroidery loops in disorder and wondered if Sophie Wittenbauer had left them in a mess. I usually had to straighten up after one of her visits. Sophie, the daughter of Elmer and Dorcas Wittenbauer, was a young woman with a bad attitude. It was hard to get angry at her though. Her parents showed very little interest in their daughter. Elmer had once been an elder in the church but had withdrawn when Lizzie’s father and John Lapp resigned. In my opinion, Elmer should never have been elected in the first place.

  I sighed as I dusted the shelf, and then I neatly restacked the hoops. When I was done, I gazed around the large room and sighed contentedly. Kingdom Quilts was like my second home, and I couldn’t imagine not having it in my life.

  After I put the duster away, I carefully wiped down the large cutting table that sat in the middle of the room. I’d just cleaned the large quilting frame in the back room yesterday and knew it didn’t need attention today. It was almost time to schedule another group quilting party. I so enjoyed those times when some of our women gathered to sew quilts, to fellowship and laugh together. Lizzie always provided cookies and coffee for these unique social events, especially since her mother usually joined our group. Most of the time the quilts we made went to a new mother in our community or to someone in the hospital.

  As I went through and sorted out the week’s receipts, I struggled to put the terrifying confrontation on the road out of my mind, but it was impossible. How could someone who didn’t even know me be so careless with God’s precious gift of life? Could a fellow human being’s heart really be that dark? It didn’t make sense. Nor did Papa’s attitude toward Jonathon. Basically, Papa agreed with almost all the changes going on in our church. He’d even painted the outside of our store a beautiful cornflower blue after Pastor Mendenhall pointed out that God must like colors since he used so many of them in nature. That was all it took for Papa. Once he had a clear picture of something, he had no trouble following his heart. Jonathon was exactly the same way. As far as I could remember, he had never said anything that didn’t agree with Papa’s views. The situation on the road and Papa’s attitude toward Jonathon bothered me the rest of the afternoon.

  Avery Menninger, who owned the saddle and tack store, stopped by around three thirty. “How are you this afternoon, Sister Kauffman?” he said as he came in the door.

  “I’m fine. And you?” This was the same greeting we exchanged every afternoon. It never varied. A kind man who’d lost his wife many years ago and whose daughter had moved away to get married, Avery spent quite a bit of time visiting folks in town before going home to his lonely house.

  “Well, fair to middlin’. Just fair to middlin’. Bursitis is kickin’ up a bit, but that’s to be expected, I guess. Gettin’ old ain’t a lotta fun.”

  “I’ll keep you in my prayers, Brother Menninger.” Sometimes his personality seemed a little gruff, but when you got to know him, you could clearly see his soft heart. Whenever anyone needed help, Avery was the first person on the scene.

  “I appreciate that, Sister.” He cleared his throat and held out a paper bag. “Sister Hobson dropped off a whole load of oatmeal cookies this morning. I thought you might like a few.”

  Sister Hobson had set her cap for Avery years ago, believing the way to his heart was through his stomach. So far it hadn’t worked, but she persisted and Avery allowed it, probably because she was an incredible cook. Her oatmeal cookies almost melted in your mouth. Someone might have pointed out to Avery that stringing her along wasn’t completely ethical, but they both seemed happy. Sister Hobson had hope, and Avery had lots of home cooking. We shared a couple of cookies together, visited for a while, and then he left.

  I decided to take Papa’s advice and close the shop a little early. I’d finished all the chores I’d set out to do, and I wanted nothing more than to take a quick nap on the cot in the back room. But before I could lock the door, it swung open and Sophie Wittenbauer sauntered in.

  “Hello, Hope,” she said loudly. Even her voice was irritating. Nasal, whiny, and impudent all at the same time.

  “Hello, Sophie,” I said evenly. “I’m about to close. . . .”

  She didn’t appear to hear me, or if she did, she ignored me. “I need this order filled.” She shoved a crumpled dirty sheet of paper across the counter toward me. “My mother says you need to take this fabric back and exchange it for what’s on that list.” She reached into the filthy bag she held in her hands and pulled out a wrinkled piece of fabric, dumping it in front of me. I immediately recognized it. I’d sold it to Sophie several weeks ago. Or what was left of it anyway. It was now about half the size of the original piece, and it was stained with something that looked like grape juice. This wasn’t the first time Dorcas had tried to return supplies she’d either ruined or had left over and didn’t need. At first I’d refused to refund her money or give her a replacement, but Papa intervened, explaining that the Wittenbauers had little money and needed our help. That might be true, but since their circumstances were caused by their own carelessness and refusal to work, I felt they should reap what they sowed.

  The church had helped them out many times, yet when work was offered or they were asked to help others in our town, the Wittenbauers always had an excuse. Their lack of community spirit wasn’t viewed with much patience. A sense of kinship and willingness to help others was the foundation of life for a Mennonite. Eventually the church’s eagerness to extend charity had dwindled. Except for Papa’s. With his voice ringing in my head, I silently took the ruined cloth and filled Sophie’s order.

  Even though she exasperated me, it was hard not to feel sorry for her. The girl was nearsighted and needed glasses but was forced to wear her father’s castoffs. The large black-framed spectacles looked ridiculous and did nothing to help her appearance. Her lifeless dishwater-blond hair was twisted into a messy bun, and loose strands stuck out from underneath a dirty black prayer covering. Sophie wore only black dresses, and it seemed as if she only owned one. It was usually soiled and always wrinkled.

  Yet underneath he
r messy exterior, I recognized a distinct beauty that had little chance of being noticed. Her large amber eyes appeared almost golden in the light and were framed by thick, dark lashes. Her full lips and cheeks were naturally rosy. Since her overall demeanor didn’t convey a sense of good health, the flawlessness of her skin and the color in her cheeks were surprising. I couldn’t help but wonder what Sophie would look like if she cleaned up, got glasses that fit her, and wore a light-colored dress.

  Of course, saying something to her about her looks was out of the question. Sophie wasn’t the kind of person who welcomed personal comments or even attempts at kindness. Somehow she managed to look pitiful and still come across as proud and independent. I couldn’t figure out how she managed it, but every time I started to feel sorry for her, as I did now, she’d do something to infuriate me. Today was no different.

  “Have you seen Jonathon Wiese around anywhere?” she asked, her voice like fingernails on a chalkboard.

  I shrugged as I handed her the brand-new fabric and threads. “I saw him earlier, but I have no idea where he is now. Sorry.” I had no intention of telling her about my encounter on the road. In a town the size of Kingdom she’d find out about it soon enough. She’d probably be sorry the driver of the red truck had missed his mark.

  She turned her head sideways and peered up at me. “Jonathon told me I’m his best friend.” She gave me an odd grin and waited for my reaction. She smelled unwashed, and I fought an urge to gag.

  “That’s wonderful, Sophie. I’m glad.” I looked at our clock. “I’ve got to close now, but it was nice to see you.”

  Liar! I heard my own voice in my head, accusing me of being dishonest. I silently repented.