Healing Grace (9781621362982)

by Shriver, Beth

  He reluctantly stood with her, wishing he would have listened more and said less. “Forget what I said. I don’t know what you’ve been through.”

  She looked up at the miles of crop that was the lifeblood of their community and gazed down at her boots. “You’re right. It’s hard when you detest someone you live with. People don’t understand the unreasonable way families can be, even if it’s hurtful.”

  A chill went through him even though the temperature had reached triple digits.

  “Everything you said was true.” She gazed at him with sad eyes. “I just wish it wasn’t.” She turned away and walked to the door, letting the springs pop as she opened it. He heard everyone of them as they snapped back into place. He wanted to tell her he shouldn’t have brought it up, but the words never made it past his throat.

  He stood on the porch for a moment after she left, kicking himself for saying too much, or speaking the truth so close that it hurt. Either way, he’d lost her again. He took two steps at a time, wanting to leave quickly. Making himself busy was the best way to let it go. At least, that was how it usually worked for him if he’d had a hard day. But this was full of emotions that he hadn’t felt before and sure didn’t know what to do with.

  As he tapped Frank on the hide with the reins, he told himself not to think back on what he’d said. Right or wrong, it was over, and they’d move on from there. Actually, she was the one who needed to. There would never be a “them.” He’d keep his mouth shut from here on out and let her do the healing on her own.

  Tomorrow the community planned to put the final touches on the schoolhouse. That might be a good way to lift Abby’s spirits. He’d call for her tomorrow morning after the chores.

  As he pulled onto the gravel road leading to his home, Mose noticed his daed walking down the rows of corn closest to the house. He bent down and rubbed the soil between his fingers. That wasn’t a good sign. They’d worked on just the right mix to add nutrients to the soil, and after the first year of experimenting, they thought they’d found the right formula.

  Mose pulled the buggy around to the barn and unharnessed Frank, then led him out to pasture. He could tell by his daed’s face there was something wrong. “What is it?” He shouted loud enough for his daed to look up, but he didn’t greet him or wave him over as he usually would.

  “Weevils.”

  It was all he said, and all he needed to. The beetles could kill an entire cotton crop and then go into the next because freezing temperatures didn’t last long enough there to kill them off. With the mild winter the spring crop would come early.

  “We’re gonna have to rotate the crop so they don’t spread,” Mose offered, thinking out loud.

  “That, and spray the eggs that are nestled in the cotton balls.” Daed looked over the acres of cotton plants and let out a frustrated breath. “Hopefully we caught it soon enough.”

  “Thank Gott our corn is growing strong.” Mose tried to think of more positive thoughts when he saw the etched lines of worry across his daed’s brow.

  “Jah, it would take a mighty strong storm to ruin the rest of our crop.” He slapped Mose on the back and guided him to the house. “Gott won’t give us more than we can handle.”

  “Remember that when we’re spraying those weevils, will ya?” Mose hoped he’d find the humor in his words and wasn’t disappointed when Daed’s lips curled upwards.

  “You’ve been gone a lot lately.” His daed gave him a sideways glance.

  “Jah, helping Abby settle in over at Becca’s place.”

  “That’s gut of ya, as long as you don’t get your hopes up.” Daed averted his eyes and said no more, but Mose didn’t want to discuss it any further. “I trust your judgment on this, son.”

  Mose didn’t want to hear it—not after the way he’d parted with her—but his daed was waiting, so he tried to think of something that would reassure him but also be honest. “She’s my responsibility while she’s here, Daed. I hope you understand.”

  Daed grunted and stuck out his lower lip in thought. “I suppose.”

  He didn’t need to know that Abby meant much more to him than that.

  Chapter Twenty

  WHEN ABBY HEARD Becca come in from milking, she felt instant relief. She hadn’t been to church since she was too young to remember. There wasn’t a question as to what to wear, but she didn’t know their customs and worried she might do or say something wrong.

  Becca tapped on the door. “Are you dressed?”

  “Come in.” Judging by Becca’s expression, Abby looked as miserable as she felt. “What’s the service like?” She squeezed her hands together, waiting for Becca’s answer.

  Becca put her palms over Abby’s. “You don’t need to do anything. We have visitors from time to time. No one expects them to know what to do.”

  Abby felt a little better already—Becca had the gift of providing comfort—but Abby couldn’t believe there wasn’t anything she needed to know. “I don’t want to make a mistake. Mose said there was a special ceremony today.”

  Becca sat on the bed and pulled Abby over to her. “It’s for the young boys, sort of like a coming of age, an observance. When the boys reach maturity, they are brought in with the men and are able to do certain chores they weren’t big enough to do before.” She shrugged. “And that’s about it.”

  “That sounds easier than I thought.” Abby was glad to have Becca to help her. She was so patient and helpful with Abby, it made her wonder whether she was like that with everyone. “How do I look?”

  The bun she attempted to pin together was a bit wobbly, but she hoped it would stay in place. She was still getting accustomed to the dress. She was used to jeans and boots, so this was an adjustment.

  Becca took her arm and led her down the stairs. “How are you feeling today?”

  Abby absently put a hand to her cheek. “Numb. I think it’s easier that way, for right now, anyway.” She thought of Jim often, but that brought back the pain, both physical and emotional. So she pushed away the thoughts. Something about being in the community melted away the anger she carried around. Resentment of her family life and Jim’s inability to be a father to her had hardened Abby, and now, looking back, she didn’t like herself much either.

  “There’s not a wrong or right feeling.” She squeezed Abby’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here.” Her soft brown eyes made the words feel genuine and warm. Abby felt a lump lodge in her throat, but she didn’t want to get emotional, even for a good reason. If she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

  “We’re all going together.” Becca hurried out the door. “Mose doesn’t like to be late.” Becca climbed up with Joe in the front seat, and Mose helped Abby up into the back with him.

  It was plenty warm with the top off, and Abby saw they had one but didn’t use it. Wearing a full-length dress was much warmer than the shorts she usually wore. By the time they got to the church, Abby was starting to sweat. She was glad when they got to their destination, but to her surprise, it wasn’t a church. “Are we stopping here first?”

  “Nee, we take turns having church in our homes. Our hearts and minds together as one is the embodiment of the church.”

  Abby still didn’t completely understand, but she followed Becca into the home and sat with her on the left side while Mose and Joe sat on the right. The boys then came in their Sunday best and beamed when they took a seat in the men’s part of the room. She searched for Chris and soon found him by his dad.

  Becca took out a singing book that had the word Ausbund on the front. They sang in German, so Abby listened to Becca’s pretty voice as they sang song after song. Abby wondered whether it was because there was a ceremony that they sang so many. The minister talked for what must have been two hours. She squirmed in her seat and bumped into Becca once trying to shake her foot from falling asleep. After announcements and the recognition of the boys who were now young men, they got up and took the benches outside.

  “Is the service over?” Sh
e whispered in Becca’s ear as everyone began setting up for the noon meal.

  “Jah, now we share a meal together. Come help me.” Becca used the word help as if it was a gift, and she was special to be asked. Abby couldn’t imagine anyone saying no to anything Becca requested.

  Mose and Joe helped arrange the benches and tables while she and Becca brought over a whoopie pie, slices of ham, and tea. Abby looked down the tables covered with more food than she’d ever seen.

  Mose came up to Abby and held her hand, which shocked her, but then she felt Becca’s hand slip into hers and realized they were about to pray. There had to be over fifty people there who stood shoulder to shoulder in a circle around the bountiful provisions. When Abby opened her eyes, she wondered how they had all fit in that house.

  “Hungry?” Mose, her man of few words, asked, and he handed Abby a plate.

  “Even if I wasn’t, there’s no way I would pass this up. I’ve never seen so much food.”

  Mose grinned as he filled his plate. Abby followed Becca, and they found a place to sit with the women. She glanced over at Mose more times than she should have, but half of those times he was looking back at her. She saw him go up for more food at least twice. Abby hadn’t ever eaten so much and rarely had any dessert, but she tried Mose’s mother’s whoopie pie and something called a shoofly pie.

  “I’d like you to meet someone.” Mose guided her over to a group of older men and women who were having a leisurely conversation on the porch to stay out of the sun. “This is my mammi and dawdi.”

  He said it with a smile, almost proud. Abby knew how special they were to him. She was different anyway, being English, but it was something more than that with Mose. She just wasn’t sure what that was yet.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Abby wasn’t sure what else to say but quickly found out she didn’t need to say anything.

  “So you’re the one little Chris’s been talking about,” his dawdi said in a loud voice.

  “You look just like Esther said.” Mose’s mammi elbowed his dawdi. “Doesn’t she look just like Esther said she did?”

  “What?” He looked at his wife, waiting for her to repeat what she’d just said.

  Mammi leaned in closer to him. “I say she looks like Esther said.”

  Dawdi shook his head. “Nee, she doesn’t look anything like Esther.”

  Mammi waved a hand at him in frustration. “Ach, goodness. Come sit down.”

  Mose smiled and sat on the stairs next to Abby. “I don’t know why Mammi even tries to get him to hear her.”

  “So will you be staying here for a while?” Mammi asked, but Dawdi was oblivious she’d said anything.

  “Yes, just until I can get some things sorted out.” Abby wanted them to know as little as possible about her circumstances; she knew they would begin to wonder, and she would have to be prepared with the right words eventually.

  Dawdi scanned the area. “This is gut land we come up on down here. Gut crop of corn the bishop has coming in.” They all looked out over the many acres of green corn leaves waving in the slight wind. The other elderly who could hear him nodded or grunted their appreciation of the healthy field of corn. “And it’s so peaceful you can hear the corn grow.”

  Mammi chuckled. “You can’t hear much of anything, especially corn growing.”

  “Come again.” Dawdi leaned closer to her.

  She didn’t try to answer, just pecked him on the cheek and then leaned back in her rocking chair.

  The bishop popped the screen door open and laid his eyes on Abby. “Hallo there, Mose…and Abby, I believe.” He sat on the top stair with a little effort and then glanced at the two of them before speaking. “So how are you liking your visit here so far?” His twinkling blue eyes, chubby stomach, and gray hair made him appear to be a rosy-faced elf. He wasn’t terribly short, but more so than Abby.

  “I’m finding that it’s more interesting than I’d thought it would be.” She didn’t want to feel like a tourist or even a guest. Abby discovered she’d much rather be treated like a relative or visiting Amish from across town than the Englisher who was visiting for a time.

  “We’re glad you’re here.” He rubbed his long, gray beard. “In many ways, actually.”

  Mose turned to face the bishop with full attention. Abby felt a protective guard from Mose when others addressed her. She wondered why. Was there something being talked about or decided about her being there?

  “The new school is an exciting addition to our small community. Did you enjoy watching it being built?” She couldn’t help noticing how his red lips contrasted with his snowy white beard when he spoke.

  “I was amazed at how quickly yet well it was built. I’ve never seen a group work together so symmetrically. The children seemed excited about their new school.” Abby couldn’t hide her enthusiasm for both the schoolhouse and the unity of the people who made it happen.

  “I noticed that as well. They seem to be glad that they’re together instead of separated in their own homes.” He scratched his beard.

  “I think they learn better when they can share their ideas together and have others to socialize with,” she said with conviction that surprised her. She’d never complained about her job, but neither had she thought about actually liking her work. It helped pay the bills and paid her better than most places of employment would, but in talking with the bishop, she realized she liked it more than she was aware of.

  “I wonder if you might be interested in helping with some of the course work. Just to get things started.” It was more of a suggestion than an invitation, making it easier to decline, but Abby was flattered that he considered her able to help with such a project.

  “Well, I don’t know how much I can assist you, but I’m willing to do what I can.”

  He frowned. “I hear you teach at the Christian school in town. Is that so?”

  “Yes, I do, but I’m certified in ESL, not as a full-fledged teacher.”

  His eyebrows drew together and he shook his head once as he dismissed the importance of credentials. “A piece of paper is less value than a caring heart.”

  Abby searched Mose’s face to get a read on his thoughts. He smiled slightly but didn’t say a word.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but I’ll do what I can.”

  She thought about what the bishop was asking. There had to be mothers who knew how to teach their children in the way they were used to. There were surely differences between the way she knew how to instruct them. Then she thought about the one-room schoolhouse. She was used to working with students two or three at a time, not an entire school. Despite the differences, she had never been so eager to start a project like this. It fit her to the brim. There was nothing more she wanted to do with her time.

  “Gut! Danke, Abby. Gott does work in mysterious ways, does He not?” Mose winked at her and stood to respond to one of the elders. Judging from the way the elder glanced over at her a couple of times, the bishop must have shared the news with him. The pressure continued to mount, and Abby wondered what she’d gotten herself into.

  When they started talking about the three days of wet weather they’d had again, Mose excused himself and Abby, and they snuck away. “The bishop is a gut man. If you decide any differently, he’ll understand.” He grinned.

  Abby was so relieved, she felt her shoulders sink. She was encouraged by his faith in her, but it was nice to hear those words from Mose. “Why are you smiling?” She noticed a slight dimple that she’d never seen before.

  “He likes you.”

  She looked back at him where he chatted away with a group of men. “He seems to like everyone.”

  Mose looked straight into her eyes. “But there’s something more about you.”

  She walked quietly for a moment, reflecting on his words. “I think you’re partial.”

  “Jah, but so is he.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  WE COULD TRY it.” Abby tilted her head to examine Gin
ger’s injury. “Still a little swollen, though.” The filly had acclimated well to Ira’s place when she was there, but now that she had returned to Mose’s place, Abby could see that she had not healed as well as they’d hoped. Abby’s daily regime of walking Ginger and applying Epsom Salt had helped; now they’d find out how well. Old Blackie ran around the outside of the corral, stopped, and then started in again as they worked.

  Mose glanced over at Ira to see if he agreed, then up at the unusually dark sky.

  “Still may be tender, but this horse wants to work.”

  Ginger snorted and dug at the ground with her injured leg as if to show them she was ready.

  Mose nodded. “I guess she’s telling us something.”

  Chris walked in. “Whatcha doing with Ginger?”

  “We’re trying to decide if Ginger is healthy enough to work.”

  “I seen her running and stop short of the fence when she needs to get her energy out.” He stuck his hands on his hips like his big brother.

  Abby cupped her cheek in her hand. “Well, we can go easy on her.” She stood and smiled at Mose, who was already grinning.

  “Grab the lead rope, Chris.”

  He beamed, hurried to the tack room, and then returned with the rope and a harness. “How’s this?”

  Ira examined the lead. “The lead rope is gut, but why do you have a harness?”

  Mose chuckled. “He’s been practicing dressing up the harnesses.”

  Abby shrugged. There were so many things for her to learn in their culture, she’d started leaning on Mose to explain as they went. With each new custom she encountered, he’d tell her what it stood for and why they did it. She was always amazed at how they had a purpose for everything they did. Nothing was happenstance or without meaning.

  Chris caught the nonverbal communication between them and jumped in to explain. “A harness is a kind of tack you put on a horse to pull carriages and wagons and stuff. Oxen use a yoke. But that’s not what this here is.” He held it up, but it was heavy for his small frame.

  “Ira will help you with that, Chris. I’m gonna work Ginger and see how she does.” Mose patted his back to nudge Chris in the direction of the tack room.