by Beth Wiseman
Brenda faced James and tapped a finger to her chin. “Nah, I think not.”
Then she left.
James scowled at Abram before he followed Brenda out of the room.
Sighing, Abram wasn’t sure what had just happened. More confirmation that the Englisch were just odd, a fact that didn’t really require any more proof than he’d seen over the years.
He finished his steak, then dove in to Sarah’s chicken casserole. Brenda and James could work out their own problems. Abram had enough of his own.
After he was finished eating, he made his way to the door, but he bumped into his boss. Mr. Hinkle frowned as he moved past Abram and toward the coffeepot.
Abram excused himself and was heading to the time clock when Mr. Hinkle said, “Abram, you got a minute? We need to have a chat.”
Something about the way his boss spoke left an unsettled feeling in the pit of Abram’s stomach.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FRIDAY AFTER SUPPER, SARAH ROLLED ONTO THE PORCH and fed Henry some lettuce, leftover green beans, and a slice of bread. She’d quit giving the bird sunflower seeds, even though she wasn’t clear what a balanced diet for a duck should be. She rolled her wheelchair into the living room. Abram had been quiet the past couple of days, and Sarah suspected why. She’d already checked the calendar, and while she might not want a baby, she did want to show her husband how much she loved him.
Her stomach swirled with anticipation and fear. Would Abram still find her desirable with legs that lay limp? She wasn’t sure she’d done things right the first week they were together as husband and wife, and now there seemed even more reasons to be nervous. He lowered the book he was reading as she came closer to him.
Sarah reached out her hand, and her husband took hold. “Are you ready for bed?” She fought the shakiness in her voice by clearing her throat. “I’m ready.” She smiled, determined to make life feel as normal as possible, even though she didn’t think she’d ever feel normal again.
“Um . . .” Abram set the book on the couch next to him. “I need to feed the horses.”
“Oh. I thought you did that earlier.” Sarah held her breath, unsure what to do or say. She’d expected her husband to whisk her away to the bedroom without any hesitation.
“Nee, it was sprinkling a little, so I just came on in the house.” He stood up, kissed her on the cheek, and went to the porch. “I’ll go tend to them now.”
Sarah nodded, even though something felt amiss. Abram had been leaving earlier than usual in the morning, sometimes before breakfast. And he’d been getting home later in the evenings. When she’d questioned him about it, he’d just said, “Busy day.”
She jumped when his mobile phone buzzed on the coffee table. Abram had said he planned to give up the device now that she was home from the hospital—or at least pack it away for emergencies only. Leaning her head as far to the left as she could, she saw a green box. She knew that to be a text message. From someone named Brenda.
Hey, I don’t know what’s going on, but call me. I miss our lunches!
Sarah stared at the phone until the screen went dark. Like her heart.
Abram fed the horses for a second time, vowing to confess his lie to the Lord later, when he didn’t feel so bad about himself. Sarah was ready to resume their life as husband and wife, it seemed, and Abram didn’t see how he’d fake his way happy in the bedroom. He’d done his best during supper, but nothing leaves a man feeling less manly than losing his job.
He shoveled manure, brushed both of their horses for a while, filled up the water trough until it was overflowing, and when there was nothing else to do, he trudged through the muddy puddles back to the house. Maybe making a baby with his wife would distract his thoughts and give him something to look forward to. But how would he afford a baby now? How was he going to pay Bill the loan man his money back, recover from his credit card debt, and find another job? Mr. Hinkle had been nice about it, but something didn’t add up in Abram’s mind. He’d been at the company longer than anyone else, except maybe Brenda. If a reduction in staff was necessary, as Mr. Hinkle had said, why didn’t he choose an employee who hadn’t been there as long?
Sarah was sitting in her wheelchair in the same spot as when he’d left, although she had her head hung and didn’t look up when he walked in. He was letting his wife down. Again. “I—I guess I’m ready for bed.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat as he thought about all the times he’d looked forward to this moment, and he feared Sarah could sense his lack of enthusiasm. She finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. Flat. Was she back in her dark place?
“I’m going to read for a while,” she said as she reached for a magazine on the coffee table. A magazine about plows, tools, and farming. As she flipped through it, Abram wondered if she realized that she had it upside down.
“Ya, okay.” He went to take a bath, the weight of his worries almost too much to bear.
When he was done, he towel-dried his hair, then wrapped the towel around his waist. Sarah was in bed, covered to her shoulders, which were bare. He forced all of his troubles from his mind and climbed in beside her, pulling her close. He owed her a display of his love. He hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed.
Sarah lay on her back, wondering if this was how intimacy would be from now on; void of much emotion and over with nearly as soon as it started. Her husband no longer found her desirable. She was an invalid with limbs attached to a body that no longer functioned the way she wanted it to. As tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, she took a deep breath. Abram would never cheat on her. He’d stay true to her because it was the right thing to do. But as she slowly turned to face him, she still dreaded having to ask him why Brenda would be texting him. Sarah only knew of one Brenda, the girl he worked with. A beautiful, young Englisch woman with long blond hair and eyes as green as Sarah’s, only bigger. Brenda was curvy in all the right places, and there wasn’t a crooked tooth in her radiant smile.
Questioning Abram was now a missed opportunity, as he snored lightly next to her. She extinguished the lantern and wondered how long she could hold off going to the bathroom. The simplest of tasks were now a challenge. That’s what she had in her life—challenges. Big ones and little ones. Nothing was easy anymore. She closed her eyes and let the tears come. Somewhere in the midst of her crying, she thought she heard the Lord reaching out to her, longing to take her pain away. Maybe the heavy swell of hope was wishful thinking, but when relief didn’t come, she closed her ears. And she closed her heart. God had forsaken her.
Abram left the house shortly after breakfast Saturday morning. Facing Sarah was like looking his lie right in the face, and it burned and ached and scratched at his conscience. He’d have to tell her that he’d lost his job, but he was hoping to do so once he’d found another one. Farming wasn’t enough to sustain most of the folks in their district, and Abram was no exception. He’d needed an outside income even before the house renovations. Their district’s community health fund had covered Sarah’s medical expenses, thankfully. But he had credit card debt—and Bill—to contend with. He’d just parked outside the farmers’ market to see if they might have any jobs available, when his phone rang. It was Brenda.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text or call you back,” he said right after he answered.
“What happened? No one at work is talking. I asked Mr. Hinkle, and he said that he’d had to make some reductions in staff. But the only reduction seems to be your job. What gives?”
Abram finished tethering his horse to the hitching post, then sat down on the seat in his buggy and shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I’d always done a good job, and I was hardly ever late or missed work.”
“Well, it just seems bizarre. I don’t get it either. And I miss my lunch buddy.”
Abram thought about Sarah and how things were at home. “It’s nice to be missed,” he said.
“Well, I went out with James, only once. What a disaster. He’s definitely not the guy fo
r me, and I wish Mr. Hinkle had let him go, instead of you. I feel like James is stalking me at work now. He even asked why I didn’t bring him lunch, the way I used to bring leftovers for you. Ugh. He can get, bring, or buy his own lunch. I know better than this, to go out with someone I work with.” She sighed heavily into the phone. “Live and learn, I guess. But anyway, I just wanted to check on you, and I was curious if Mr. Hinkle had given you a reason he let you go.”
“Not really. I was as surprised as you. More so.”
She was quiet for a few moments. “How’s your wife doing?”
Abram braced himself for another lie. “Gut. She’s doing gut.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. In the grand scheme of things, that’s what is most important. When I was younger, I had a cousin who had some rare disease. I can’t even remember what it was, but it left her in a wheelchair until she died when we were teenagers. I remember how hard it was for her to get used to not being able to walk. I’m so glad your wife is settling in and doing well. And I want you to keep in touch, okay?”
“Ya, ya.” Brenda was as nice an Englisch person as he’d ever known, but he knew they were both just exchanging pleasantries, that there wouldn’t be any reason for them to stay in touch.
After they hung up, Abram went inside the farmers’ market. He’d take any job he could get right now. His phone buzzed again. Bill. He hit End and realized he’d promised Bill a hundred and fifty dollars yesterday.
Sarah tried to focus on something besides her marriage. She’d cleaned the kitchen, done her best to tidy up the bathroom, and now she set her mechanical floor cleaner into motion. When the robot wasn’t smashing into her furniture, it did manage to pick up dirt and dust, and there was a lot of both following the rains and Abram’s traipsing in and out, not always remembering to shed his shoes at the door.
She wasn’t sure why Abram was working on a Saturday, but she reckoned it was better than being at home with a substandard wife. Or maybe he just wanted to spend time with Brenda? That thought sent a wave of adrenaline coursing through her body.
After she threw together a vegetable stew, she checked the porch again. She hadn’t seen her feathery friend all day. But she recognized Johnny’s buggy coming up the driveway. She waited outside for him.
He rushed up the porch steps with a wad of cash in his hands. “Mamm said twelve of your cookbooks sold at the co-op market where your stuff is. Apparently, a few Englisch ladies have been talking them up. They like the cooking tips you offer and the hand-drawn covers.” He pushed the money at her. “I gotta go, but it’s a hundred and twenty dollars.”
“Danki.” She watched her brother pull out and waved, then she went to her bedroom and put the cash with the other money she’d started saving before the accident. She was up to five hundred and forty dollars. She’d planned to buy Abram a set of pneumatic tools he’d been eyeing since before they were married. Her husband wouldn’t buy the expensive, air-powered gadgets for himself, and she’d wanted to surprise him. She was pretty sure she had enough money now. He’d worked hard to make life easier for her, and she wanted to make any future projects he took on easier for him. She wished he’d had the tools before he made all the renovations to the house, but Abram was always tinkering with something so she knew he would use them.
She’d just tucked the money in the back of her drawer, behind her nightgowns, when she heard a loud noise on the porch. “You’re back, Henry,” she whispered before she made her way outside.
Stroking the bird’s feathery backside, Henry eased closer to Sarah until she was able to lift him into her lap. She’d read that certain ducks made excellent pets and often bonded with humans when there weren’t any other fowl around. Sarah wondered why Henry didn’t spend time near the chicken coop, but she was thankful for the company he provided. After a few minutes, she set him back down. She smiled when he hopped back to his spot behind the rocker, happy he’d adapted to his handicap. Sarah wondered if she’d ever be able to do the same.
It was early afternoon when Abram returned home, and he fought to control the anger that had been simmering all day. He’d spent his life serving God. He was a good worker. He was a loving husband who wanted to please his wife. So how was it that now he was in debt, jobless, and allowing hopelessness to fester in his heart?
As he walked up the porch steps, he eyed the amount of bird poop all over the freshly painted wood, and he recalled the time he and Sarah had treated themselves to roasted duck at a fancy restaurant in Lancaster. He rushed the duck, grabbed it by the neck, and held it at arms’ length. All the while, the feathery creature flapped his wings, twisted and fought. Abram was just about to snap his neck when something came flying through the window, shattering the glass, and landing with a thud onto the porch. He lost his grip on the duck, who flew away, then he eyed a hardback copy of the Bible laying amid shards of broken glass.
As he stared at the Good Book, trying to figure out what had just happened, Sarah wheeled herself onto the porch. Her green eyes blazed with hardened shades of jade as she shot daggers his way.
“Are you out of your mind?” she screamed, clutching the wheels of the chair and rolling herself forward, glass crunching beneath her. Her bottom lip trembled as she stopped in front of him.
Abram threw up his hands, then pointed to the Bible. “Am I out of my mind? You just threw the Bible through our window.” Abram was already calculating how much a new pane of glass would cost.
“It looked like you were about to snap Henry’s neck!” She stretched taller in the chair and gritted her teeth. “What kind of person does that?”
Abram leaned against the railing of the porch and stared at her. Some girls and women looked cute when they were mad. Sarah wasn’t one of them. Her lips puckered, and it looked like she was sucking her cheeks in, which left her face looking drawn and old. He was about to tell her so when she released whatever air she’d taken in, her cheeks returning to normal.
“I thought it might be nice to have roast duck. Remember, we ate duck at that restaurant one time?” He paused as her jaw dropped. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? You said you loved the roasted duck that day.”
Sarah was still as a statue, and Abram didn’t think she was breathing. He waited. Something bad was coming.
“Henry. Is. A. Pet. We don’t eat our pets.” His wife’s eyes bulged as she spoke, her face turned red as the barn.
Abram glanced at the broken window again. Then at the Bible. When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he knew it was Bill. The man had been calling him all day. He pulled the phone from his pocket, raised his arm over his head, and heaved the phone into the yard. Then he took a deep breath and went inside.
Sarah searched for Henry for three days. She’d wheeled herself to the barn, the chicken coops, and even circled the house. The ground was damp, but not soaked, and even though it had taken effort, she’d managed all right. But Henry seemed to have flown the coop. She was working her way up the ramp to the porch when she heard a car coming. Once she’d mastered the task, she turned and watched a large, burly man step out of a white van, then he marched toward her and stopped at the end of the ramp.
“I’m looking for Abram.”
Sarah sat taller. “And you are . . . who?”
“Bill. And I’m guessing you are Abram’s wife?” Bill needed to shave, and he had a large stomach that hung slightly over his blue jean pants.
“Ya, I’m Sarah. Mei husband isn’t here right now. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Not unless you have two hundred dollars.” The man chewed on a toothpick as he spoke. “I’m willing to work with just about anyone, but I don’t take kindly to being ignored.”
Sarah saw a sliver of glass she’d missed when she’d swept up the mess on Saturday. Glancing at the boarded-up window, she pushed the recollections of the day away. She and Abram hadn’t said much to each other since Saturday, but they’d been kind to each other. “Mei husband owes you money?” she
finally asked.
“Yeah. He owes me money. A lot of money. And he knows that when he’s late on a payment, the interest rate goes up. You able to help with this? Or do you know where I can find him?”
Sarah swallowed hard. “I—I am guessing he is at work.”
The Englisch man grunted. “I assure you he ain’t at work. That’s the first place I checked.” He folded his arms across a broad chest. “I try not to come out to folks’ homes, but since he got fired from his job, I didn’t really have a choice.”
Sarah froze. Where had Abram been going every day? Thoughts of Brenda’s text swirled in her head and sent her stomach to churning. “I—I don’t know where he is.”
Bill shifted the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “I want my money.” He pointed a finger at Sarah. “I thought you Amish were decent, honest people.”
We are. Sarah forced herself to breathe as confusion buzzed in her head. Like a hive of bees trying to make honey, Sarah was trying to organize her thoughts. “I—I have some money.” She swallowed back the knot in her throat. “How much does he owe you?”
“In total? Or today?” Bill spit the toothpick out in the grass. “Today, I’d settle for two hundred dollars.”
“I’ll be right back.” She fumbled with the screen door, trying to fling it open, and within seconds, Bill had hold of the screen and held it for her. She briefly wondered if he was going to follow her into the house. But he remained on the porch. Sarah returned with ten twenties and handed it to him.
Bill took the money, then pointed a finger at Sarah again. “Tell your man that I don’t want to have to track him down every week. Tell him to at least have the decency to take my phone calls.”
Sarah watched him peel away in the white van, then she just sat there, staring into space.
Abram, what have you gotten yourself into?
