by Susan Wiggs
“I’ll try getting to my knees,” said Reese. She keeled sideways.
“Not like that,” he said. “Put your feet on the right side, not the left.”
“Oh. Right.” She got her knees under her. “Hey, that’s better.”
He grumbled, knowing he’d been had. “You’re pretending just to make me feel better.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
“Well . . . fuck,” she said.
He hid a smile, then got to his knees and managed to stand.
She made a fist of her right hand and pointed it at him.
He scowled. “What?”
“Fist bump. It’s something you do after an accomplishment.”
He did the fist bump with her, even though it was a dumb accomplishment. Then he turned his back on her and shuffled back to his bed. He lay down on his right side, facing the window. He heard her come in, heard the sigh of air as she sat on the vinyl-cushioned rolling stool by the bed.
“What do you miss about your arm?” she asked.
“Doing handsprings,” he said.
“Wow, I have two arms and I can’t do a handspring.”
“Neither can I, now.” His voice sounded small and peevish. “I can’t eat with a knife and fork like I used to.”
“Not at the same time. I bet your OT has something for that. Maybe a tool that’s a knife and fork in one. A knork. Or a fife.”
“You’re not as funny as you think.”
“I don’t think I’m funny at all. I think losing an arm sucks for you. Tell me something else you miss.”
“I miss my dog. I miss playing baseball. I miss pie.”
“Dogs, baseball, and pie are three of the best things in the world,” she agreed.
“Can I go to sleep now?” he asked.
“You betcha.” A cool hand smoothed over his head. He didn’t say anything about banging it on the floor, because if he did, she’d fuss over him too much. “I’d better go. I helped a lady in the ER who was having a baby. It was an emergency because she didn’t even know she was expecting. I want to check on her.”
“Okay,” he said. A baby was a big emergency, for sure. Very slowly, he turned to her. “See you later.”
She spun around once on the stool. “You will. Stay woke, Jonah.”
9
Though he’d been away for only a few days, Caleb felt as if he’d been gone forever. He and Hannah got off the noisy, diesel-smelling bus at the highway junction marked by a shed-roofed shelter, where the locals caught the bus when a big trip was necessary. The highway was never busy here, just a two-lane country road that linked up with the poorly paved single track leading to the center of Middle Grove.
Hannah’s bike was where she’d left it leaning against the back of the bus kiosk. She wheeled it beside Caleb as they walked toward the farm. The familiar sounds of the countryside surrounded them—birds chirping, the wind shushing through the trees, dogs barking. After the clashing and grinding noises of the city, the softness was sweet music to Caleb’s ears. As they neared the town, he heard the clop of hooves on pavement.
At the sound of the approaching buggy, they stood aside and waited. The buggy belonged to Jacob Zook—Rebecca’s father. Caleb recognized the Morgan horse in front.
“Climb in,” Jacob said. “I got room.”
“Thank you kindly,” Caleb said. He hooked Hannah’s bike on the back, and they took a seat on the bench inside.
Jacob eyed Hannah with a slight frown. She touched her hair and blushed. “I lost my covering,” she said, staring at the floorboards of the buggy. “It was windy in the city.”
“What’s the news on Jonah?” Jacob asked.
“He’s in the hospital, but he’s going to be all right.” Caleb realized the story would likely reach everyone in the community before the day was done, so he’d best be frank and plain with his words. “They had to take his arm clean off. His left arm. It was too damaged to save.”
Jacob rubbed the U-shaped beard that outlined his jaw. “Mein Gott. That’s a terrible harsh thing, then.”
“It was a terrible shock, for sure,” Caleb said.
Beside him, Hannah trembled. She’d cried off and on during the bus ride home, aching in her heart for her brother. Caleb patted her knee briefly. “He’s doing pretty well, under the circumstances. The doctors, they say he’s getting better fast, and he’s in pretty good spirits.”
Hannah said, “They’re going to let him come home soon.”
“That’ll be a great relief to us all.”
Caleb hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking. They rode in silence for a time, past stubbled, newly harvested fields, another reminder of all the chores that needed doing. “Where’ve you been, Jacob?”
“I had to bring Rebecca home from her visit with Mose Shrock.”
As a Mennonite, Mose had earned the trust of folks from the Amish and Mennonite communities. He was known far and wide for his compassion and practical ways as well as his healing skills.
“Is she sick again?”
Jacob stared directly ahead between the pricked ears of the horse. “I reckon Mose figured that out and we’ll hear about it later. Rebecca’ll be sorry she wasn’t here for your homecoming.”
Caleb shifted uncomfortably on the bench, remembering what had been on his mind the morning of Jonah’s accident. He’d been planning to have a difficult—but overdue—conversation with Rebecca that day. He’d had the discussion all framed in his head—he wanted to tell her she deserved a devotion he would never be able to offer her. The kind that Hannah had been nattering on about during the bus ride, the Princess Bride kind of love.
He still needed to speak with Rebecca, and soon. But if she was sick, it would have to wait.
A modest sign marked the township of Middle Grove. They passed the small white-painted shed that housed the community phone, a reluctant concession to modern conveniences. At the Middle Grove Mercantile, Alma Troyer was hanging out some of the new quilts for sale. Caleb gave Hannah a nudge. “I can always tell which ones are yours.”
She smiled. “I might not be so good at cooking and cleaning, but I can quilt.”
It was true. Even Caleb, who had no eye for needlework, knew his niece’s quilts were something special—vivid abstractions, sometimes incorporating unexpected elements—a shiny river stone, feathers, embroidered words. Her quilts were so different that they attracted collectors from all over.
“I want to make something special for Jonah,” she said.
“I reckon he’d like that.”
She smiled again and shook her head. “Jonah? He wouldn’t notice if I gave him a saddle blanket. It’d be more for me than him.”
The buggy rolled to a stop at the lane leading to the Stoltz place.
“Thank you for the ride, Jacob,” Caleb said. “We are obliged.”
The older man nodded. “Rebecca would be pleased if you would come calling,” he said with a none-too-subtle wink.
“You take care now.” Caleb jumped to the ground, went to the back of the buggy, and hoisted down Hannah’s bike. She got on the bike and rode along the lane toward the farmhouse.
His father was waiting for him on the porch, thumbs tucked into suspenders, his brow shadowed by a black hat. Flinty blue-gray eyes flashed from beneath the brim. “It’s good you’re back,” he said, “good to hear Jonah’s all right.”
“He survived,” Caleb said. “His arm didn’t.” He quickly explained the situation, as he had for Jacob in the buggy.
His father took off his hat and furrowed a splayed hand through his hair as he scowled off into the distance. “That’s a damnable shame. It surely is. How will the boy get on with only one arm? He’s going to be useless on the farm.”
Caleb crushed his back teeth together to hold in a retort. “I’d be obliged if Jonah never hears that from you.”
“No point in hiding from the truth.”
Caleb stayed quiet. Arguing with his father was like talking to a
wall.
“It’s time for him to come home,” Asa pronounced. “We can take care of him here, with his friends and family.”
“He’s not ready,” Caleb said, mounting the steps to the front porch. “Excuse me. I have some packing to do.”
His father followed him through the house. “Packing.”
Caleb nodded. “I left here in a hurry, you’ll recall.” And over your strident objections, he silently added. “I’m going to need some things for the city.”
“The city’s no place for you or Jonah. I want you to bring the boy home.”
“I said he’s not ready.” Caleb tried to keep his tone—and his temper—even as he went to his room and took out a few belongings.
“Hannah said he’s alert and talking like a jaybird,” Asa said, glaring at him from the doorway. “No need for him to malinger at the hospital, surrounded by strangers. What’s done is done. There’s nothing but trouble for him in the city. He needs to be here with the people who care for him.”
Caleb stuffed an old canvas rucksack with several changes of clothes. “He stays where he is until the doctors say it’s safe to move him.”
“I know more about keeping a boy safe than any English doctor,” Asa retorted.
Caleb pivoted around to face him. “The way you kept John and me safe? I don’t think so.”
He watched the color rise in his father’s face like mercury in a thermometer. They almost never mentioned the past, though Caleb’s soul was stained with memories. He had long since stopped expecting any sort of acknowledgment, let alone contrition, from his father.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I’ve got a bus to catch.” He buckled the bag and brushed past his father, heading outside. Setting the rucksack on the front stoop, he whistled for Jubilee. The dog came frisking down the slope behind the house, sneezing and wagging her tail in welcome. Caleb patted his thigh and walked with the dog across the freshly mown field between their farm and the neighbors’.
Levi Hauber was loading sacks of grain into a cart. He stopped and jumped down when he saw Caleb.
“Your boy,” he said without preamble. “He’s all I think about.” Genuine tears welled in his eyes.
Caleb filled him in on Jonah’s progress. “I’m going back to the city to stay until it’s safe to bring him home.”
“I understand. We all want to help.”
“You are, by taking care of the place while I’m gone.”
“For as long as you need us. Your team is the best,” he added, referring to Caleb’s harness of draft horses. “I swear, I’ve never seen such a fine team. Even old Baudouin is looking lively.”
“I’m obliged to you, then.”
“We’ve been looking in on Asa, too,” Levi assured him. “Every day.”
“Thanks for that, Levi,” said Caleb. The Haubers and the Stoltzes had been neighbors for decades, and the neighbors knew Asa’s ways.
Caleb and Levi shook hands. Just as Caleb was turning to leave, someone came out of the house.
“Caleb, wait.”
Rebecca. She always looked willowy and slightly fragile to him, with pale eyes and wispy blond hair. He knew from experience, however, that she had an iron will. She hurried across the yard toward him. “I was over visiting the Haubers.”
Like fun she was. More likely her father had let her know Caleb was back in town. He honestly wished he could be happier to see her. Rebecca was a fine person, kind and devoted. But she wasn’t the one for him, and he couldn’t force himself to feel that way.
“How are you?” he asked. “Your father said you went to the doctor.”
She waved a hand in a vague gesture. “It was nothing. I’m glad I got back in time to see you. And it’s wonderful good news that Jonah is all right. Will you and Asa come to supper, then?”
“I can’t stay,” he told her. “I’m off to the city again to be with Jonah.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“For as long as it takes. A number of weeks, at least.”
“Oh. I see. Well. I’ll miss you. I’ll keep Jonah in my prayers.”
“You take care, now.” He took a step back.
“Caleb. I wonder . . . I think we should have a talk.”
Oh boy. Maybe he was more transparent than he realized. “How’s that?”
“About us,” she said. “I fear you’re having second thoughts.”
And third, he reflected. And fourth. When her family and the bishop had first promoted the courting, he’d believed it might be a way to provide a stable home for Jonah and Hannah. But as time went on, he’d questioned the plan. Yet whenever he’d tried to discuss the matter with Rebecca, she deflected to a different topic. Finally, though, she seemed open to having the difficult conversation.
“I appreciate you bringing that up,” Caleb said, holding his gaze steady. “I think you’re a fine person, Rebecca, and you deserve the love and safety of a fine family.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice soft and breathy. “I do want that.”
“And everyone wants that for you. But I don’t think you’d be so happy with us. We couldn’t be right for you.”
“But—”
“John’s kids are a handful. And will be even more so after Jonah’s accident.”
She hesitated, then said, “Hannah will be married and away in a year or two. And as for Jonah—well . . . I must do my duty.”
It bothered Caleb that she regarded Jonah as a duty. He was a joy, every day.
“It wouldn’t be fair to subject you to such a difficult situation,” he suggested.
“I embroidered the cloth, Caleb,” she said, ignoring the suggestion.
She meant business. She was telling him she was ready for him to follow through with her family’s plan—baptism, marriage, babies, following the path of their ancestors.
“Something keeps holding you back,” she continued. “It’s not just Hannah and Jonah.”
“Growing the beard will give me an itchy rash,” he said, trying to lighten the tone. He could tell from her expression that she was not having it. “I’m sorry. This warrants a much longer conversation, but I have a bus to catch.” He reached out and gently touched her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Rebecca, I’m so sorry. I realize you gave up other opportunities, and I never should have let you do that.”
“I’m not interested in other opportunities,” she said, taking his hand. “I’m interested in you, Caleb Stoltz.”
He felt a wrenching sense of guilt as he carefully extracted his hand from hers. “It wouldn’t be right. It most truly wouldn’t, and it was wrong of me to let you think that.”
She pursed her lips, then took a deep breath. “You go,” she said. “Go to Jonah. All else will wait.”
With a wave of her hand, she turned back toward the house. Strangely, she staggered to one side, and Caleb leaped forward reflexively, taking her arm. “Hey now. Are you all right?” he asked.
She didn’t speak for a moment. Then she looked at him strangely, her eyes filmed by confusion. “Caleb. No, I’m just . . . I’ve been so clumsy lately.”
“What’s the matter? Do you need help?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. A headache, is all. Mose Shrock gave me some tablets. I’ll just go inside, then.” She held the rail and mounted the steps to the Haubers’ kitchen.
He watched her go, then shook his head, wishing it could be a simple thing, to untangle himself from the situation. Wishing he’d never agreed to a courting in the first place. Promising his brother to raise the kids in the faith was one thing, but forcing himself to live in the faith—he hadn’t promised that. He signaled to the dog, and they walked back across the field to the house. Hannah was there, waiting to say goodbye.
He handed her a slip of paper with his temporary mobile phone number. “If you need anything—anything at all—you ask Rachel Hauber or Alma Troyer. Levi’ll look after your grandfather, don’t you worry.”
“I won’t.”
“You call me if you
need anything. It’s all right to use the phone box.”
“As you wish.” She offered a quick smile. “That’s from The Princess Bride.”
10
Caleb hadn’t done any hard work in days, yet he felt exhausted the next morning. Back at Leroy’s place, he had a strange sense that he’d been around the world and back. Matters that pressed on his mind wore him out far more than backbreaking farm chores or wrestling with huge draft horses.
He didn’t regret his decision, though. Jonah was his family, and a man didn’t balk at making sacrifices for his family.
As he opened the door to the sunny morning, the message board in the lobby of the apartment building fluttered with paper flyers—people seeking jobs, roommates, furniture. Stuff for sale. Complaints about noise in the building. There was a grim-looking Community Watch notice warning folks about a gang of thugs jumping people in the neighborhood. The city was gritty and dangerous and strange, and Caleb was fascinated by it all.
Reese came clattering down the stairs. She was holding a paper cup of coffee in one hand and a Danish pastry clamped between her teeth. “Hey,” she said when she saw him, her voice muffled by the pastry.
“Hey,” he replied, holding the door and taking the coffee cup from her. “You’re in a hurry.”
“Late,” she said, then wrenched the Danish out of her mouth. Even with mussed-up hair and crumbs down the front of her, she lifted his spirits with just the mere hint of a smile.
“I’m a fast walker.” He strode toward the riverwalk.
“You’re back,” she said, taking her coffee as she hurried alongside him. “I mean, that’s obvious, but I didn’t know if you’d be making a round-trip so quickly.”
“Would have been here sooner, but I missed the bus coming back,” he said. “Got a ride with a milk tank truck that was heading this way.” Last winter, that same truck had slid off the road in a snowstorm, and Caleb had used his team of horses to pull the rig out. The driver had vowed to return the favor anytime Caleb needed one. Yesterday, he’d called in that favor.
