by Marta Perry
“But Miriam and Ruth milk the cows,” Susanna said.
“There’s plenty of work for all of us,” Mam assured her. “And I know I can count on all of you to be kind and make Irwin welcome.”
It took a great deal of effort for Ruth to hold her tongue, but she stared at the ground and kept walking slowly as the others hurried on ahead and vanished down the lane.
Of all of her mother’s ideas, this one with Irwin had to be the worst. Ruth jerked the wagon over the ruts in the dirt lane. What if the boy started a fire at their place? They’d have to watch him closely, and from what she’d seen of Irwin, he’d be a lot more trouble than he was worth.
The left wheel suddenly sank into the sand and the wagon tilted. Ruth dropped the handle and grabbed the glass jar of buttermilk with one hand and the toppling basket of gingerbread with the other. Strawberries rolled out onto the ground. “Christmas fudge!” she cried.
“What kind of talk is that?” came a voice out of the rows of apple trees to her left.
Ruth knew that voice. She twisted around to see Eli coming toward her out of the trees. “Stop that,” she snapped. “Stop what?”
“Sneaking up on me. You keep doing that!”
He laughed. “It looks like you need help, Ruth Yoder. Unless you want me to keep walking and leave you to deal with this all by yourself.” He scooped up a strawberry, blew the sand off and popped it into his mouth.
“What are you doing here?” She felt foolish. Again. She was down on her knees trying to rescue Anna’s cookies and the gingerbread, both in danger of following the errant berries. “Don’t just stand there. Grab something.”
Eli took hold of the corner of the wagon and lifted it. The jar of buttermilk, the strawberries and the desserts slid back to safety. Ruth got to her feet and brushed the dirt off her dress. “You’re lucky I came when I did,” he said. “Otherwise.” Eli shrugged. “Gingerbread disaster.”
“This isn’t the quickest way from Roman’s to Aunt Martha’s house.”
He looked solemn. “It’s not? That’s funny. Miriam told me to come this way.”
“Miriam? Did you think she’d be walking along this lane this evening?”
“I’ll never tell.” He folded his arms over his chest.
Ruth was almost sure he was teasing her. Had Miriam planned this? It was her idea that they should walk. She took the first turn with the wagon, not sure whether or not she liked the idea that he planned to come this way just so he could bump into her. She had a mind to send him on his way. But the wagon was heavy and they were going the same way. She exhaled. “So long as you’re here, you may as well pull the wagon.”
“Ya,” he agreed. “That might be best.” He was laughing at her with his eyes, enjoying getting her goat once again.
She watched him as he grabbed the handle of the wagon. “Why do you do this?”
“What? Come to your rescue all the time?”
She made a sound of exasperation, but it came out lame even to her ears. “Stop teasing me.”
“I like teasing you. It’s just too easy.”
“Fine. Be like that.” She turned and started walking down the lane, leaving him to follow with the wagon. Her heart was racing. She felt giddy. And it was all his fault. “Ruth.”
The sound of her name on his lips was as sweet as the mockingbird’s song. She glanced back at him.
“Will you walk with me?” He wasn’t teasing her now. His tone was sincere. His gaze held hers.
“Why should I?” She was asking herself as much as him.
He stopped and pushed his wide-brimmed hat up, and she found herself looking right into his blue eyes.
“Please,” he said.
She felt suddenly breathless. “If you want,” she answered softly. “But talk only. No more holding of hands.”
“Ne,” he said. “Of course not.” But he couldn’t leave it at that. “Not unless you want to.”
“Why should I want to hold your hand?”
“I don’t know. I think maybe you wanted me to before.”
“I did not.”
He laughed, walking beside her. “I don’t take you for a liar, Ruth. It’s one of the reasons I like you. I would think you would always be honest with people.”
How can he know that? she wondered. I can’t even always be honest with myself. But he was right, she couldn’t out-and-out lie. “Okay, maybe I wanted you to, a little. Maybe,” she admitted. “But it was a mistake.”
“Ya,” he agreed. “Probably a mistake, but nice. Very nice.”
Chapter Ten
Walking beside Ruth felt good to Eli. For all her prickly exterior, there was something so sweet and innocent about her that it made him want to throw his arms in the air and shout for joy. And what he said about thinking she would not lie was true, even if he had been teasing her. What he liked about Ruth was that she wore her faith, not like a crown of thorns, but as a glittering mantle of content. She knew who she was, and she liked the person she was. She believed in herself and God. She didn’t have to preach to people. Simply watching her as she followed the righteous path, day after day, made him wish he was the kind of man Ruth would choose to marry.
Since the death of his brother, he’d drifted further and further from the Amish way of life. The incident with Hazel had alienated him even more from his community, and the notion that he’d never be able to find his way back haunted his dreams. Was he too much like his father, as his mother had accused? Was it impossible for him to consider living in the faith he’d been born into?
If he’d taken Hazel to be his wife as everyone had expected, assumed responsibility for her child and formally asked for forgiveness, there would be no question of his future. He could have taken over his grandfather’s woodworking shop and made a decent living building sturdy kitchen cabinets, lawn furniture and storage sheds. His community would have embraced him, and in time, the gossip would have faded and his new family would have been accepted.
But, as much as he’d liked Hazel, he hadn’t loved her. He hadn’t been able to turn his back on the possibility that he’d find a girl he truly loved and marry her. And he hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of his life making lawn furniture. He wanted to shape beautiful things out of wood, to bring the images in his head to shape, to make his birds come alive. Selfishly, he’d put his own desires before the needs of the baby and Hazel. And now, things might never be made right.
Eli was afraid he hadn’t changed, and he hadn’t learned from his mistakes. Proof that he was still acting selfishly was right here in this apple orchard. Instead of involving Ruth in his troubles, he should get on his scooter and drive to the far end of the country, perhaps even to Alaska. He should go where no one knew him and where no Amish had settled. He should find a place where being Plain meant nothing to the English, and Eli Lapp would be just another craftsman who was skilled with wood.
Instead, he was walking through an apple orchard with the most fascinating woman he’d ever met, a devoted daughter and sister whom he had no chance of winning, someone who would someday marry a God-fearing Plain man. Together, the two of them would raise a family of red-cheeked, happy kids, children who would know who and where they belonged and would never imagine turning English. Ruth. Even her name was straight from the pages of the holy book. It was Ruth who sacrificed everything for love. He would never deserve her; he was causing trouble for her just by being near her.
But he couldn’t make himself let go.
Eli thought that if he could explain what had happened with Hazel to anyone, he would like it to be Ruth. And he needed to talk to someone about it. It was like a burr in his shoe, always there, always rubbing. He knew Ruth had heard the rumors, and it was unfair to keep the truth from her. But he had to protect Hazel, and dragging her down to excuse his own actions would be a worse sin than what he’d done, wouldn’t it? “Eli.”
A flood of emotion swelled in his chest. “Ya?”
Was it right that he could take such
pleasure in hearing her say his name? He was like any other man, English or Amish, but Ruth was special. He’d never felt so happy just to walk with a girl. He remembered how warm and soft her small hand had felt, and how right it had felt, sitting in the semidarkness of the movie theater beside her.
“Are you coming to church tomorrow at our house?” she asked, breaking through his thoughts.
He didn’t want to. It would be a mistake. Sitting through the sermon, letting himself believe that there might be hope for him and then having that hope dashed. It would simply hurt too much.
“Are you?” she pressed when he didn’t answer.
“I promised your mother, didn’t I?” he hedged. Not that it would be of any use. He’d leave the service with the same empty feeling he’d had for years, that he wasn’t worthy of God’s love…that he didn’t belong.
“You should come. Mam will be disappointed if you don’t.” She turned to look into his eyes. “But you have to want to be there. It’s no good if you sit like a lump or let your mind wander. You have to open your heart to the preacher’s message.”
“What if it’s not meant for me?” he asked, revealing more than he wanted to, more than was safe.
“But it is,” she insisted. “We have only to believe in our faith, to follow the laws, and we’re assured of a place in heaven.”
“You, maybe. Being good comes easy for you.”
“Ne. That’s not true.” There was a little smile at the corners of her mouth as she looked down at her bare feet. “You don’t really know me. I’m selfish and impatient. I judge people too quickly, and…” She sighed. “This list is long. I work at it every day. I really do. But I have failures and doubts. Everyone does. Like with Irwin.”
“What’s he doing now? More trouble?”
She shook her head. “Mam asked me not to talk about it…but…she wants him to come and help us out on a regular basis. I don’t know if it’s safe to have him on our farm. When I saw the fire at the schoolhouse…”
He waited, unwilling to press her.
“You can’t say anything,” she told him, obviously hesitant.
He stopped the wagon. “You know I won’t. What is it, Ruth? What’s troubling you? What did you see?” She was close enough for him to smell the clean scent of her hair and see the concern in her dark brown eyes.
“He crawled out from under the cloakroom and ran away. And he had burns on his hands.”
“You think he started the fire?”
She nodded. “Mam says not to jump to conclusions until we know, but Irwin won’t ever tell us if he’s guilty. He never admits to doing wrong. I know he’s been hurt by losing his family, but what if there had been children inside the classroom? They could have been killed. Setting fires is not just a boy’s mischief. It’s evil.”
Eli let go of the wagon handle and folded his arms over his chest. “Have you asked Irwin what happened?”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “I can’t get two words out of him. Samuel’s twins may know something, but they aren’t talking, either.”
“What if I talk to the boys, see what I can find out? Maybe it would be different coming from me, me being a bad boy and all.”
He smiled and she smiled back. A smile that lit up his heart.
“I’d appreciate it,” Ruth said with a nod. “Mam has a good heart, but…”
“She’s a wise woman.”
“I’m afraid she’s too trusting.”
A high-pitched yelp broke the tranquility of the twilight. Eli glanced around, trying to find the source. “Did you hear that?”
“Over there.” Ruth pointed toward a hedgerow at the edge of the orchard. “I think it’s some kind of animal. Maybe a fox.”
The pitiful squeal came again. A thick wall of mulberry bushes and old-growth cedar trees ran along the property line between the Yoder farm and that of Martha and Reuben Coblentz. Eli left the wagon, and as he approached the hedgerow, sparrows flew up out of the wild roses. He crouched down and carefully pushed aside the thorny foliage.
“Be careful,” Ruth cautioned. She had followed him, but stayed back. “It might be a sick raccoon. You know they can carry rabies.”
Something thrashed in the prickly vines. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he murmured and then laughed. “Well, look at this.” He thrust his hand into the tangle and pulled out a ragged, burr-encrusted and pitifully thin puppy. “It’s a dog,” he announced.
Half-healed cuts and patches of dried blood marred the little animal’s black-and-white fur. One paw was swollen and the plume of a tail so matted that it was hard to see where briars ended and puppy began. One ragged ear stood up and one hung down, but black button eyes stared at him hopefully and a red tongue licked at his hand. The whine rose to a joyous yip, and the little dog wriggled so hard Eli thought it might pop out of its skin.
“Ach,” he said. “You’ve had a rough time of it, haven’t you?”
“Oh, let me see,” Ruth cried. “Poor little baby. How did he get here?”
“Probably dumped by the English.” Eli stood. “It happened all the time on my grandfather’s farm. City people think they can just drop their animals in the country.”
“Poor baby. Let me hold him.”
“Better not,” he cautioned. “He’s crawling with fleas.”
She uttered a sound of amusement. “Think I’m afraid of a few fleas? Give him to me.” She took the puppy from his hands and held it against her. “Sh, sh, hush now, liebchen. You’re safe now,” she crooned. “We’ll take care of you.”
The puppy began sucking frantically at her fingertips.
“He’s hungry.”
“Starving, I’d say. He was caught in the briars. He may have been out here for days.”
“Poor little thing.” She looked up at Eli, her brown eyes sparkling with determination. “I’m going to take him home and feed him.”
“He needs a bath, I’d say.”
“First some chicken broth and rice, then a bath.” She glanced back at the wagon full of goodies. “Can you take those things to Mam? I’ll have to miss tonight’s work bee. I can’t take him with me, and he needs attention now.”
“You’re willing to miss the frolic to tend to a stray?”
She laughed, heading back toward the path. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“It’s too small to be of much use as a farm dog. There must be an animal rescue place in Dover.” He followed her. “I could take it there tomorrow if you want.”
“Ne.” She shook her head. “We found him, Eli. God must want us to take care of him.”
He thought about that. He liked animals, but his grandfather had never allowed any animal on the farm that wasn’t of use, either for work or meat. Old horses and cows past their prime had gone to the auction, and barn kittens had regularly been disposed of. As a child, he’d shed tears when a favorite was sold off or simply vanished, but he’d learned to accept the way things were.
Ruth’s determination to care for this little waif touched him. “If you’re going to take the dog home, I could deliver the food and then come back to help—”
“Ne.” She shook her head. “It would not look right, both of us missing. People would think that we were together.”
He smiled at her in what he hoped was a persuasive way. “But that would be true, wouldn’t it? We would be together, taking care of the pup.”
“Are you looking for a way to get out of work? Uncle Reuben expects you to do your share.” She looked down at the squirming dog in her arms. “I can do this. You just take Mam’s contributions to the house.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“What will your mother say about you bringing him home?” he ventured. He knew what his mother or his grandmother would have said. The dog wasn’t worth saving.
Ruth smiled up at him and then turned away, headed back toward her farm. “She’ll fuss at the cost of the shots and vet bills, but she’ll let me keep him. Mam only
pretends to be tough. Inside, she’s as soft as Susanna’s whoopie pie filling.” She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Good night, Eli Lapp. See you another day.”
“Another day,” he murmured to himself. The he grabbed the wagon handle and hurried up the lane. He couldn’t wait for another day with Ruth.
* * *
“Women are in the front room,” Reuben said, not seeming to care why Eli was pulling the Yoders’ wagon. “Just carry that stuff in and leave it on the kitchen counter. Then come back and find a hammer. There’s some loose nails on the windmill ladder. You can start by fixing that.”
Eli nodded and picked up the gallon jar of buttermilk. It had gathered a little dust but otherwise seemed none the worse for wear. Taking the gingerbread in his free hand, he walked up onto the screened porch and into the kitchen. Every available tabletop and counter seemed to be crammed with food, but he found a spot and slid the buttermilk into the open space.
From the other room, he heard the murmur of chattering women. But as he turned back to fetch the rest of Hannah’s things, he caught snatches of conversation coming from the porch.
“…asking for trouble. If my brother was alive, this would never happen.” A hand pulled the screened door open.
“But he’s not. And I have to do what I think is—” Hannah stopped in mid-sentence and smiled at Eli. “I saw the wagon. Is Ruth inside?”
Eli shook his head. “We found an abandoned puppy in the hedgerow. It was hurt. She took it back to the farm.”
“What? A dog?” the older woman said. “I never.”
“This is Reuben’s Martha,” Hannah said, introducing them.
He nodded. “You have the stand across from the Yoders, at Spence’s.”
Martha sniffed and scowled at him.
“It was good of you to bring the food.” Hannah glanced at her sister-in-law. “Susanna picked you some more strawberries. I know you said you wanted to make more jam. Where would you like Eli to put them?”
“In the milk house.” Martha pointed. “Over there. There’s a cold box, set into the ground.” Her mouth tightened into a thin line. “You’re late. The men have already started work.”
