by Ruth Reid
Thomas shrugged. If all went well at Noreen’s house, he’d be invited for supper. “If I’m nett back in time, will you save me a plate?” He’d eat twice.
“You know I will.”
He hadn’t said anything about asking Noreen to marry him. His mother knew they were courting and had made a few comments about liking Noreen. She even quizzed him the other day about wanting rags to stake out trees, but he didn’t spill the beans. Until Noreen’s father gave his blessing, what good would it do?
Thomas hitched the buggy and drove to the Trombly farm. From the driveway, he glanced at the kitchen window, then, not seeing Noreen, looked at the large sitting room window and finally lifted his gaze to the bedrooms on the second story. Noreen, where are you?
He climbed the porch steps. The door opened as he lifted his hand to knock.
“Noreen’s gone,” Mrs. Trombly said. “She decided to leave early and start getting things settled.”
In order to send Noreen to Mio, they would have had to hire a driver. Why would they have gone to that extra expense when they were set to move in another week? He craned his body to see around her. Boxes lined the wall, but Noreen wasn’t anywhere in sight.
Mrs. Trombly shifted her stance to obstruct his view. “I told you, Thomas. Noreen is gone. It’s for the best.”
For the best? The day his father passed away flashed before his eyes. Days prior to his death, a massive stroke had left him bedridden and unable to care for himself. Thomas recalled overhearing him beg God to take him. “It’s for the best,” his father had pleaded.
Acid coated the back of Thomas’s throat. He should have prayed more for his father, but he was young. He’d never lost anyone to even understand how painful it’d be. Thomas swallowed, but it did nothing for his dry throat. “I’ve prayed about marrying Noreen.” His declaration was as much for himself as it was for Noreen’s mother. But even as the words spilled from his mouth, a sinking feeling settled in. God had taken his father—had God also taken Noreen?
“I think you should take up your concerns with mei husband—or better yet, talk with the bishop.”
Thomas had tried to reason with Mr. Trombly two days ago with no success. After Noreen’s father found the two of them kissing, he refused to acknowledge Thomas at all. He merely stood, arms crossed, and glared at Thomas while ordering Noreen to get into the buggy.
“I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll talk with your husband.” He turned, his thoughts whirling with what he needed to say.
“Thomas, wait.” Mrs. Trombly hurried down the porch steps and stopped before him. “Don’t upset him. He isn’t a healthy man.”
“I’ll try nett to.” He plodded across the lawn and found Mr. Trombly in the equipment shed. Thomas cleared his throat. “May I speak with you a moment?”
“Noreen’s gone,” he replied without looking up from placing a wrench inside a crate.
“So I heard.” He entered the building.
The elder man crated more tools. “We have nothing to discuss.”
“I believe we do.” His insides shaking, he fought to keep his voice steady. “The nacht I was here for supper and had asked your permission to marry your daughter, you told me I was unprepared. That I had no place for Noreen and me to live.”
“I remember.”
“That’s what we were doing in the woods. I was showing Noreen the property where I plan to build a haus.” He kept to himself how Noreen had sent a message to meet her there. Her father might never forgive her defiance.
“That’s nett all you were doing,” he grumbled.
“We kissed. Nothing more.”
He harrumphed. “Because I stopped you.”
“Nay. Because I love and respect Noreen.”
Mr. Trombly gripped the worktable, his knuckles turning white. Making short raspy breaths, the man’s complexion paled. His legs wobbled half a second and before Thomas could respond, Noreen’s father crumbled to the floor, clutching his chest.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Present Day
AFTER A SLEEPLESS NIGHT ALONE IN THE BARN, NOREEN arrived at Patty’s house early enough to help prepare breakfast. But Patty took one look at her disheveled appearance at the doorway and shuttled Noreen into the washroom with a clean dress, then instructed her to come to the kitchen once she’d freshened up.
Noreen splashed cold water on her face, instantly feeling more refreshed and alert. She scrubbed the soot off her hands, arms, face, and neck. Better. Except her hair still reeked of smoke, but she’d wash it later when she had more time. She slipped into the clean dress, then headed toward the commotion of clattering dishes. The scent of bacon frying wet her mouth with anticipation and prompted quicker steps.
“Do you feel better after washing up?” Patty poured coffee into two mugs.
“Jah, much better. Danki for the clean clothes.”
Patty’s thirteen-year-old daughter Amanda stood at the stove, spatula in hand. The two younger girls, ten-year-old Kathleen and eight-year-old Karen, were busy setting the table. All three girls had their mother’s blue eyes and golden hair and worked in unison much like Noreen and her sisters had growing up.
Patty handed Noreen a mug of coffee. “Let’s sit for a moment and enjoy our kaffi.” She pulled out a chair for Noreen, then plunked down on the one opposite.
Noreen admired her friend’s stamina. Patty’s day started before sunrise and she was still going strong even after the rest of the household went to bed. She often said her favorite time of the day was first thing in the morning when she had a few minutes of silence and could be alone. Although Noreen had agreed, she couldn’t relate. For her, she was alone most of the morning, afternoon, and evening. She had to work to fill the silence.
“You didn’t sleep well,” Patty said. “I see it in your eyes.” She added sugar to her cup and stirred it. “I wish you would have stayed here last nacht instead of sleeping in that old barn.”
“I slept all right.” Noreen looked at her steaming beverage. “Once I fell asleep,” she added, not lifting her gaze.
“And that took all nacht, didn’t it?”
Noreen forced a smile. She couldn’t admit the truth—marital problems, not the fire, had kept her awake most of the night. She glanced at the plate on the counter heaped with bacon and over to Amanda at the stove, flipping pancakes. She turned back to Patty. “Are you sure the girls don’t need our help?”
Patty gazed lovingly at her daughters. “They have it under control. Amanda is turning out to be a very good cook.”
Amanda looked their direction, the tight mother-daughter bond evident in the wide smile she gave Patty.
A wisp of envy tugged at Noreen. It was bad enough she was often envious of Patty’s solid relationship with Jonathan, but seeing her daughter’s affection left Noreen starving for something she could never have. Sip the coffee and think of other things.
“Noreen?”
Patty’s tone caught Noreen’s attention. “Did you say something?”
“I asked what your plans were today.”
“I was thinking this might be a gut time to visit mei family.” Noreen avoided Patty’s gaze when she noticed her sister-in-law’s eyebrows rise. “I haven’t been to Mio for a visit in a while. Mei nieces and nephews are practically grown.”
“And you think nau is the right time?”
Her sister-in-law must think it was odd to consider leaving so soon after losing the house. But Noreen couldn’t stand to sleep another night alone in the barn. Besides, she would be out of Thomas’s way. Before she had a chance to explain, the kitchen door opened.
Jonathan and the boys entered with the milk containers. Thomas, to Noreen’s surprise, trailed in last. He’d been busy tending the livestock this morning and hadn’t committed to coming for breakfast. At the same time, Thomas had insisted Noreen should go, and this time, she didn’t argue about him needing to eat as well. He was a grown man.
Thomas glanced at her and smiled. “You look all cl
eaned up.”
She nodded. He didn’t look bad for not coming to bed last night. He’d changed into the set of Jonathan’s clothes Patty had donated. Thomas’s hands and face were not spotless, but cleaner. He must have washed up at the pump.
Patty pushed her chair back and rose. “I’ll pour you two some kaffi.” She took her youngest child, Matthew, by the shoulders and faced him toward the hallway. At the same time she signaled for her other two sons to go wash up.
Jonathan nudged Thomas’s arm. “Grab a seat.” He strode to the end of the table and sat.
“We sure appreciate you having us over for breakfast,” Thomas said, taking the chair opposite Noreen.
“You’re always welcome here,” Jonathan said.
“Excuse me.” Noreen slid back from the table, feeling awkward. She hadn’t sat while others worked around her since she was a youngster.
Amanda set the plate of stacked pancakes on the table while Karen carried a jar of maple syrup. Kathleen picked up the plate of crispy bacon. A few slices fell off the plate and hit the counter, but Karen was there to scoop them up. She stole a nibble off one piece only to be scolded by her mother for eating before the blessing was said.
Patty handed Noreen a mug of coffee for Thomas. Noreen added a dash of cream, as he liked it, then placed it on the table in front of him.
“Danki,” he said, interrupting the conversation he and Jonathan were having about lumber estimates.
By the time the boys returned to the kitchen and settled into their places at the table, the meal was ready. Jonathan directed everyone to bow their heads and after a brief moment of silence, was first to start filling his plate.
The conversation about needed building materials continued between the men. Listening to Thomas explain where he planned to rebuild, Noreen noted a hint of excitement in his tone.
Patty passed the maple syrup to her husband, but directed her question to Thomas. “Do you plan on building right away?”
Thomas shrugged. “I hope to have it roughed in before snowfall.”
Jonathan drizzled syrup over his pancakes, then passed the jar to Thomas. “The boys and I will help after we harvest the potatoes.”
“Danki. Levi plans to help once he takes his pumpkins to market. His crop is twice the size as last year and with a new boppli, Rebecca won’t be able to help him.”
“I heard they found a buyer who plans to ship them all downstate,” Patty interjected.
Jonathan glanced at his wife and sighed. “We should have planted a big pumpkin patch instead of putting in all those acres of potatoes.” He shifted his attention back to Thomas. “The cutworms were bad despite using oak-leaf mulch and sprinkling wood ash around the base of the plants.”
“Maybe pumpkins are the way to go, but do you want to spend your days rolling pumpkins to make sure they don’t grow lopsided?”
“You have a point.” Jonathan stabbed his fork into the fried potatoes with vigor. “Mei knees couldn’t handle it.”
Posen had plenty of potato farms and fall was always busy, especially for the Amish farmers who harvested their crops using horse-drawn machinery.
“Noreen,” Patty said. “If you’re going to be out of town, I can organize the meals for the haus raising.”
“I—ah . . .” Noreen spied Thomas with his fork paused in front of his mouth, his face pinched in a scowl. She should have mentioned going to visit her family to Thomas before saying something to Patty. Her sister-in-law shifted in her seat. Please, don’t say anything else.
“We can talk about it another time,” Patty suggested.
Thomas held Noreen’s gaze several seconds before setting his fork on the plate and picking up his mug of coffee.
Jonathan and Patty exchanged glances. The girls were having their own hushed conversation at the other end of the table and the boys were too busy eating to notice the sudden tension.
“Your pancakes are really good, Amanda,” Noreen said. “Did you use buttermilk?”
“Nay, just regular milk.”
“But she’s made them with buttermilk before,” Patty said.
Noreen took a bite of the pancakes, even though she was no longer hungry. The food clumped in the back of her throat.
Thomas avoided eye contact the remainder of the meal. When his plate was clean, he excused himself, saying he needed to get started on the burn pile.
“I’ll be home after I help clean up the kitchen,” Noreen said.
Thomas donned his hat at the door. “Take your time.”
Jonathan walked outside with him as the boys scurried away from the table. The girls immediately began clearing the dishes.
Noreen took the last sip of coffee, then rose from the chair. As she reached for her plate, Patty grasped her hand.
“I need you to look at some material,” Patty said.
Noreen followed her sister-in-law into a small, all-purpose room, where stacked crates were labeled Rags, Mending, or Material.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Patty began, “but you need to go home and straighten things out with your husband.”
Her sister-in-law was right. Things with Thomas had been strained for too long. Noreen’s eyes moistened. She tilted her face toward the ceiling, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall. “He didn’t kumm to bed last nacht.”
“I’m sure he was worried about another fire starting.”
“That was his excuse, but the firemen said it wasn’t likely.” She drew a breath and slowly released it. “He blames me for the fire.”
“That’s all the more reason for you to go to him nau. You can’t let hard feelings kumm between you. You’ve been through harder times than this and you made it.”
Noreen nodded, though she wasn’t convinced. They had lived—or rather tiptoed—around the pain that tore them apart.
Patty handed her a cloth. “Dry your tears and go to your husband. He’s hurting too.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’ve prayed something would . . .” Oh, Lord, this is hard to admit.
“Would what?”
“I asked God to . . . to do something about mei marriage. We’re like two strangers living together. Thomas isn’t happy . . . It’s nett how I thought—” She dabbed the cloth at the corners of her eyes. Breathe.
“Don’t stop praying for him. A fraa’s prayers are very powerful.”
“I believe that too. I was so afraid when Thomas ran back into the haus. I had a horrible feeling that God was answering mei prayer—doing something about our broken marriage. Oh, Patty, I thought I was going to lose him.” Noreen trembled. She couldn’t shake the feeling that things would never be the same.
The ashes had cooled enough to load the wagon to take to the county dump. Thomas scooped a shovelful of debris, then tossed the contents into the bed of the wagon, his thoughts concentrated on Noreen. Knowing she had made plans to spend time with her family in Oscoda County, he hadn’t been able to think about much else.
“Thomas?”
His wife’s voice stopped him from shoveling and he turned to face her. “I didn’t notice you walk up,” he said dryly.
“I thought you might need some help.” She grabbed the rake leaning against the side of the buckboard and began working on the opposite side of the mound, where the sitting room used to be.
The task was dirty, exhausting, something she didn’t need to be doing. Yet she worked the rake swiftly, jabbing at the rubble as if she had something to prove. “Be careful you don’t get cut. Some of the metal pieces are jagged.”
She pulled the remnants of her home into a pile. “I’m all right.”
Of course you are. He resumed shoveling. She hadn’t taken his advice—hadn’t needed his advice in years. He thrust the shovel under a six-foot section of tin roofing material and pried the end of it up. He reached for the tin and gave it a tug, but the metal was awkward to grip wearing the heavy leather gloves, and it slipped through his hold. With another hard pull he freed it from a section of roof joist
that hadn’t burned. He hauled the metal to the wagon, its tinny clang echoing as he tossed it with the other damaged material.
Thomas patted the ashes off his gloves. Removing debris piece by piece, it would take days to get this mess cleaned up. He stole a glance at Noreen swinging the rake. Her palms would be splintered and rubbed raw by noon working the rake bare-handed. He strode to the barn. The gloves he used to muck stalls reeked, but they’d do the job. Returning back to the pile, Thomas stopped before Noreen, dropped the barn gloves on the ground at his feet, and began peeling off the ones he’d been wearing. “Use these.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take your gloves.”
“I have another pair.” He held her rake so she could put the gloves on. “When were you going to tell me about your plans to visit your family?”
“I haven’t had much opportunity to talk with you about anything.” She shoved her tiny hand into the glove with a thrust. Lifting her gaze, her eyes pierced his. “Have I?”
He wasn’t opposed to her leaving. Only that he’d heard the news from Patty. His wife should have spoken with him first.
Noreen took the rake back, brows furrowed. “You broke your promise last nacht.”
“So that’s why you’re running back home.” His curt tone made her flinch, though he offered no apology. He’d end up chiding himself later for his actions, he always did. The sound of buggy wheels crunching over gravel drew his attention. He recognized the bishop in the driver’s seat immediately, but had to squint to see his wife, Alice, seated beside him. The buggy rolled to a stop next to the barn. Thomas swiped the gloves off the ground and headed toward the bishop’s buggy. He and Alice climbed out, scanning the area.
“It looks so different in daylight,” Alice said.
“Jah,” Thomas said.
Noreen approached, smiling. “It’s nice of you to stop by.”
“I brought sandwiches, potato salad, and cookies for dessert.” Alice signaled Noreen with a quick wave. The two women walked to the back of the buggy.
“I see you’re already busy cleaning up,” the bishop said.
