Little Wild Flower Book Two

by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  I then picked up a small box that had been beside the hankie and opened it. Inside, I found the gloves that Hannah had let me borrow; the trim of lace that had come from my great grandma’s wedding dress, and the charm that my parents had presented me with on my wedding day. That day I had followed all the “rules” according to Nadine so that I wouldn’t have “bad luck”. In reality, it had been a stupid superstition, but now I wondered if it had some truth to it as I reflected on my loss. I knew the difference between reality and superstition, but I felt the need for something to blame the death of my husband on.

  I replaced the items in their box and returned them to their spot in the trunk. The small, painted daisy charm my parents had given me had never been attached to a charm bracelet as was planned, making me regret leaving it in the trunk for so many years. I knew that someday, though, I could give it to my daughters to use for their “something old” when they got married.

  Underneath a baby blanket, I discovered the picture of Elijah and me that my father had taken of us on my sixteenth birthday. The blue dress pictured in the photo was folded neatly at the bottom of the trunk. Underneath the dress, I found the small, round pewter box that contained the wedding rings that by Amish traditions I was forbidden to wear. Before we wed, I had expressed my desire to have the thin, gold band. Elijah purchased them for us, and we intended to wear them, but when Elijah’s father saw them after our wedding, he was so stern that Elijah suggested we not wear them around his family. For some time, we wore them at night when Elijah and I were alone, but when Eli came along, we gave it up. We both knew that if Eli ever mentioned it in front of Abraham Zook, that Elijah could risk being shunned by his family. Even though Elijah’s father had relaxed some of his strict rules dealing with Amish traditions and the Ordnung, the wearing of jewelry was something with which he would not budge.

  After removing my ring from the box, I slowly placed it on my finger, intending never to remove it again. Consequently, my fear of my father-in-law’s wrath forced me to put it back in its box after careful admiration of the sight of the gold ring on my finger. Elijah had risked being shunned so I could have this ring. I remembered the conversation he had with Abraham as though it had taken place just yesterday. Elijah defended me, and the fact that I wasn’t used to the rules of the Ordnung. He claimed that it would be selfish of him to expect me not to have a ring when it was something that I had desired. I felt blessed to have had a man love me that deeply. I recalled a time in my early life when Mamma had told me that no one would ever love me—but she had been wrong. It saddened me to put the ring away, but the remembrance of the day Elijah gave it to me warmed my heart for a short time. A lifetime of memories of my courtship and marriage to Elijah suddenly flooded my mind, making it difficult to think of anything but my beloved husband.

  ****

  Getting through the winter was going to be tough on me, I knew, and I didn’t look forward to my first Christmas without Elijah. It seemed that at every turn, I faced a new first without him. Everything in our home and on our property reminded me of him—even certain smells and sounds made me think of Elijah. Every room was filled with memories of him. His beautiful wood-working graced every room in the house, and the days that we spent painting and arranging furniture prior to our wedding filled my mind. The day of my seventeenth birthday stood out most in my mind as I looked out the kitchen window through the veil of flowers that decorated it. The flowers that were there now weren’t the original ones, though. Each year Elijah had dried a new batch for me to hang in the window. The one that presently hung would be the last fresh batch from Elijah. Even though the children had provided me with enough to dress the window, I couldn’t yet bear to replace them.

  ****

  The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas was spent sewing clothes for the children and dolls for the girls. I even made a new car for the train that Elijah and I had made for Eli’s first Christmas. Every year since then, Elijah and I had made a new item for his train set that now resembled a small village. We knew he was too old to play with the train set anymore, but he enjoyed collecting the pieces.

  The previous year we’d made Eli a small-scale general store and a building for the blacksmith. Over the years, Elijah had carved horses and trees and signs that filled the railroad town with realistic features. Now, I didn’t want to break the tradition that Elijah had begun with our oldest son. As difficult as it was for me to make the caboose, I forced myself to do the things that had become traditions in our house.

  Thinking of the first time Elijah taught me to use the wood carving tools brought tears to my eyes that threatened to spill over, while my lower jaw quivered from suppressing a good cry. I walked out of the barn, looking for fresh air to clear my head of the cobwebs that had settled in. Looking out at the acres of land, my eyes caught a row of tall black trees that appeared lifeless against the edges of the winter’s dismal horizon. The air began to darken, and snow fell on the branches forming a shadow-like image. The wind picked up, causing my hair to become unruly as I walked toward the house, crunching the new-fallen snow underfoot. Before entering the house, I sighed a heavy sigh, releasing some of the tension that I felt.

  When Eli appeared at the side door with the tree he had cut down, I insisted that it go in the family room across from the fireplace.

  “In the house, Mam?” he asked, shocked at my insistence.

  I smiled and nodded that he’d heard me correctly. I even encouraged the children to decorate the fireplace mantel with tree branches and holly from the bushes that grew along the path of evergreens.

  In spite of all the excitement from the children, I still didn’t feel excited about Christmas. I, in fact dreaded having to spend the holiday without Elijah. Even though I was hurting, I tried not to let it show so I wouldn’t ruin it for the children. I tried my best to keep busy with last minute touches on gifts. I even experimented with new cookie recipes with the help of Hannah, Rebekah, Rachel and my sisters, Nadine, Rachel, Lucy, and Molly. When we added my mother and Naomi, the kitchen seemed crowded. We worked so well together, however, that the large, overheated kitchen was filled with love and traditions that I was passing on to my own daughters.

  ****

  On Christmas morning, Eva came into my room and got into bed with me earlier than she usually woke on other mornings. She was too excited to see what was under the tree that she could tear into. I, on the other hand, would have liked to have slept until the day was over, but I intended to get out of bed and go through the motions for the children’s sake.

  “Can we get up now, Mam?” Eva begged innocently, as she bounced slightly on the bed.

  I dreaded getting up, but I smiled at her and gave her the cue to alert the other children. I knew she didn’t intend to wait until the morning chores were tended to before seeing her gifts, so I hurried. The big family gathering in the afternoon would divert my attention for part of the day. But until then, I feared I would have a tough time getting through the morning gift exchange with the children. Eli agreed to take his father’s place at reading the account of Jesus’ birth from the Bible. I had taken him aside the day before to ask him about it and he was delighted to fill his father’s shoes for the day. “I’d be honored,” he’d said. This pleased me, for I wasn’t certain that I could carry it through.

  After all the children had been roused from their sleep, we met in the large family room where the tree sat decorated with strings of popcorn and cranberries, as well as homemade ornaments. I offered to make hot cocoa to warm us a bit against the wind that whistled in through the windows. Outside, the heavy snow swirled in the wind as it fell from the grey sky. The path that the boys had shoveled the night before was already covered with a fresh layer of snow. They moaned as they looked out at their work that had been done in vain.

  “Now we’re gonna have to shovel it all over again,” Simon complained.

  “Nah,” Eli replied. “It hasn’t gotten too thick yet, it’ll only take a few min
utes if we work together. We can do it before I tend to the milking.”

  Once we had our cocoa in hand, we settled down to hear the Christmas story from the scripture—a tradition that even little Eva had learned to appreciate.

  When Eli finished the reading, he said a prayer that brought tears to my eyes. The young man was so much like Elijah, which seemed to give me a window into my husband’s childhood. Elijah often commented on the things that Eli did as he was growing up, saying that he had done the same thing as a child. Now that Eli was nearing the age that Elijah was when I first met him, I could see more of his father in him.

  Eli stood up after the prayer and went over to a large box that was at the back of the tree and handed it to me. I knew I hadn’t put the box there, but when I looked at it, the children had lovingly put their names on it along with their individual artwork. It was to me from all of them.

  “This is for you, Mam,” he said quietly.

  The children sat at attention, waiting for me to open the package. I was stunned because I wasn’t expecting anything, so I didn’t quite know how to react. I smiled at the children and opened the mysterious box.

  What the box contained, nearly took my breath away. Inside was a beautiful, hand-crafted nativity and a primitive stable. I picked up each piece and examined its detail. The manger and two of the wise men appeared less intricately carved, as did one of the lambs and the donkey. At first, I didn’t quite know what to think of the set, as it appeared to be slightly mismatched.

  “This is beautiful, where on earth did you get such a thing?” I asked, looking at Eli.

  “Papa started to make it before he…” Eli couldn’t finish his sentence.

  Emotion caught up in my throat, causing it to swell from the lump that was quick to invade it. Tears threatened to spill from Eli’s eyes, which caused me to cry. It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me, leaving the spirit within me flat and momentarily lifeless.

  “He didn’t finish it, but I knew you would be happy to have it, so we worked together to finish it for you,” he continued, through his tears.

  Without a doubt, I could tell that Elijah had carefully carved the baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph. The angel that rested over the primitive stable had also been intricately carved, as well as two sheep and one of the wise men. The children had carved the other pieces and made a stable out of thick twigs and dried alfalfa hay.

  One by one, the children hugged me, while I cried and laughed at having been given such a wonderful gift from Elijah and his children.

  ****

  After the new-year, I talked in great detail with my family, and decided that in the spring I would take a trip back to the city where I grew up. I felt I needed to find out where I belonged, and it didn’t seem at the present time that I belonged in an Amish community. I felt it was time to leave behind for a short while, the farm that had been my home for so many years—the very farm where I now felt out of place.

  ****

  The months seemed to drag on, making my desire to leave the farm even stronger. I tried to occupy myself with the things that needed tending to around the farm, but none of it made the time pass any quicker. One of our milking cows had borne a calf that was weak and in need of a little extra care, but even that couldn’t take my mind off my desire for spring to arrive so I could run away for a while.

  The children seemed to sense my agitation over being confined to the house for the long winter. They, on the other hand, enjoyed sledding and skating on the pond at my parent’s home. Jakob had even put together a small hockey team with his cousins after my father purchased them hockey sticks and a puck from the sporting goods store in town. The mothers would watch them play on Saturdays, while the men would coach them and cheer them on. Jakob was becoming such a good player that his team asked him to be the captain. I was proud, but my thoughts always turned back to Elijah and the things he was missing out on.

  In addition to my feelings of loneliness, I felt deeply overwhelmed at having to be both mother and father to my children. My father and brothers spent as much time as they could with my boys, knowing that they needed the influence of a man in their lives. Deep down I knew it wasn’t the same, and I sensed that the children had some of the same feelings. Besides not wanting to burden my family with the responsibility of my children, I couldn’t bear to take my brothers away from their own children’s attention.

  ****

  Spring finally arrived, and I began to plan for my eight-day journey to my childhood town. I wasn’t certain what my plans would be once I arrived in my hometown, but I did plan on going to look at the house I’d lived in as a child. I hadn’t told any of my family about the plan to see the old house because I was certain they might try to talk me out of it. It didn’t take long to pack my mourning clothes, along with my soap, hair-pins and kapps.

  Each of the children brought me little keepsakes that I was to take on my journey away from home. Eli gave me a blue cornflower from the meadow, which I promptly placed between the pages of my bible. Abigail gave me her favorite yellow handkerchief, while Elizabeth handed me her little, stuffed bear that she covered with kisses, which she claimed would last me through my trip. Simon brought me a dried, green dragon fly from his collection, and from Jakob I received a hand-drawn map of the location of our home.

  “So you won’t forget how to get back home,” he convinced me with a wide grin.

  Eva presented me with a drawing of our family. When I looked at it, emotion caught in my throat, which felt as though it were choking me. She had made stick figures of the children, including herself. The picture, however, neglected to have two parents; it had only one tall figure, which represented me. I tried hard to choke down the tears that would have destroyed the moment of solace for each of us. Crying would have brought tension to an otherwise endearing moment with the children, so I opted to wait until I could be alone with the turmoil that threatened to disrupt my children’s happiness. I felt lonely for them already, even though I wouldn’t be leaving for another two days.

  ****

  On the day of my departure, I waved goodbye to my children at the train station, not knowing if I would return to them the same person as I was when I left. One thing I felt certain of; I wouldn’t return until I found the answers I was looking for.

  FIVE

  GOODBYE CITY LIFE

  I stood in front of my childhood home for nearly ten minutes before realizing that its occupant had been observing me closely. I stood in amazement, unable to believe how small the maple tree in the front yard really was. For ten years of my childhood, I believed that tree to be considerably greater in height than it appeared to be now. I suppose it could have seemed bigger at the time because I was only fifteen when we’d moved, and I’d grown three inches since then. Still, I hadn’t realized I had concentrated so much on this tree as a young girl, making it such an important part of my young life.

  I pictured the times that I’d spent sharing my peanut butter sandwiches with the large black ants that inhabited the tree. Hanging around the tree and playing with the ants had been a way for me to pass the time as a child when my mother would lock me out of the house for several hours at a time. Oh how I loved that tree—and yet it all seemed so insignificant now as I looked back on it.

  I ran my hands along the stones of the wall surrounding the front yard, remembering how much fun I had throwing a Frisbee across the road to my siblings, and waiting for cars to pass so the game could resume. In my mind, I could still hear the laughter of my father, Mitchell, and Nadine—and myself as a young girl as we played.

  Back then, my father would let me be on his team because I could scarcely throw the saucer at first try. While Mitchell and Nadine always crossed the road to take their mark atop the wall opposite our own, my father and I would remain on our own territory—the “victory side,” my father always claimed. By the end of my first summer I could throw quite well under the close supervision of my father. Come spring the following yea
r, I was quite awkward again and enjoyed my father’s instruction and attention once again. After a few years, I realized that if I pretended to have trouble, he would take pity on me and allow me to stay on his team so he could guide me.

  “Young lady, are you lost?” an elderly voice asked, startling me from my reminiscent thoughts.

  I hadn’t realized that the owner of the house had come out to greet me. She held a sort of curious look as though she was wondering why I was loitering on her property.

  “No, ma’am. I used to live here as a child and I just wanted to see the house again. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I managed.

  “Why are you crying dear?”

  I hadn’t realized that I was crying until I reached up and felt my dampened face, confirming what she said was true. It felt good for me to remember the good times, realizing that all the bad times had been healed a long time ago and didn’t need to be dwelled upon.