by Kelly Long
Abner reflected on his life as he climbed; the times he’d run hungry and wild in the woods, the day Tabitha was born, living to watch over the young maedel, and then helping her with her scheme to marry. He glanced briefly at Matthew, and Abner swiped at his wet face. I have an accountability here, ta do what’s right, ta save Tabitha. . . . Help me, Derr Herr. . . . Help me. . . . The prayer had hardly resonated in his mind when he felt a blinding pain in his left shoulder. He lost his balance for a moment, until Matthew caught his arm and steadied him.
“Everybody, down,” Abner cried, trying to ignore the pulsing pain. He himself stayed upright despite his command until Matthew pulled him down bodily.
“How bad is it?” Matthew muttered near his ear.
“Just a scratch.”
“Uh-huh. You’ve done your part, Abner. Now stay here and we’ll finish this.”
Abner wanted to protest but couldn’t find the strength. He sagged further onto the slate and let himself slide for a few feet while the others passed him by. He knew he should listen to the cries to find cover but couldn’t seem to move until Anke’s soft voice came to him, as if from a dream, and he wondered vaguely if he was dying....
* * *
“You must continue, my dear, with your delightful tale—though I find it hard to believe.”
Tabitha wet her lips, knowing that she need only catch Elam’s attention for a moment so he would be distracted from his vicious shooting. She had heard no cry after Elam had last shot, but something told her instinctively that someone had been struck by the bullet.
“Jah,” she said, daring to move from the doorway of the shed to stand out closer to Elam in the rain. “But it is the truth, Elam. Matthew is a mail-order groom.”
“Bah! The man will be groom no longer when he kummes into my line of fire.”
Tabitha ran then to throw herself bodily against Elam. She had no illusion that she could stop him, but she might get hold of one of his guns . . . and to her amazement, the cold steel of a pistol met her fingertips. She pulled blindly at the metal, then stumbled to the muddy ground as Elam shook her off. She clutched the weapon in her shaking hands and forced out her words in a low tone as she got to her feet.
“Elam, my hands are very shaky. Sei se gut, put down your gun and kick it to me.”
“You’re narrisch, my dear. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I do, Elam.”
“She does, Elam,” Matthew said in a hoarse voice from behind the other man.
Elam spun as Matthew tackled him. Tabitha heard the other gun discharge and ran toward the men. Matthew had soon subdued the bleeding Elam and dragged him to his feet.
Elam clutched his upper arm and sneered at Matthew. “You’re a fool, Matthew King! You’re not worthy of her.”
Tabitha watched as Matthew looked at her and gave her a slow smile. “You know, Elam. I believe you’re right. I’m not worthy of her.”
She smiled back at him and wondered when he’d become the groom of her heart.
* * *
Anke tenderly lifted Abner’s dusty head into her lap while Aenti Fern muttered about his shoulder.
“Lucky the bullet went straight through or else he might have bled to death by now.”
Anke bent her head and carefully offered her hands to steady him as Aenti Fern tied off the bandage.
Abner looked up at her then, owl-eyed. “Anke . . . Matthew and Tabitha?”
She smiled down at him. “They’ve caught Elam Smucker. He had handguns like the Englisch do. Bishop Kore is here ta tell ya.”
“Jah, Abner. All will be well, I think. Elam confessed to buying the guns illegally in Farwell on one of his mail treks. So, the Englisch can now deal with him.”
Anke bent to kiss Abner’s forehead, careless of the dust and the company. He smiled up at her and she felt her heart throb in her chest.
“Anke . . . will ya marry me?”
She gasped in surprise, then wet his face with tears of joy. “Ach, jah, Abner. Jah!”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The next day was church meeting, and Tabitha had stayed up late talking with Matthew. Now, they both resolutely dressed and held hands as they hiked from atop the falls down to the Fisher barn.
Tabitha was nervous. She had barely had time to talk with her daed, and she wasn’t sure if his loving hug was out of thankfulness for her being alive or in reconciliation after the shunning. Also, she had no idea how the community would respond to what she had to say, but Matthew seemed confident, so she lifted her chin a bit as they entered the large barn toward the end of the service.
Bishop Kore must have seen them, and Tabitha winced as the auld spiritual leader gave the community a bright smile. “Now, this is nice and right, I think. We’ve shunned two of our own, searched for them, and Derr Herr has brought them back into our midst. We will now hear their confessions.”
Tabitha bit her bottom lip as she faced the rows of solemn faces. She saw her fater nod, and Anke wipe at a tear with her apron hem. Abner stood resolute at the back. Then Matthew began to speak. “We are grateful to all of you who helped us yesterday. The time we’ve spent away from the community has been a time of reflection and deep thought. And we want to say, up front, that what we’ve got to tell you all may not be what you expect, but it is nonetheless the truth.”
She listened as he began to speak calmly.
“I confess before you all that, jah, I did know about my wife’s wood carving and I appreciated her talent in this area. I also confess that I still don’t understand fully what exactly is wrong with women doing woodworking. But I owe you all a much greater confession. When I came here to marry Tabitha Stolfus, my true motivation was to get an apprenticeship working with you, John Stolfus. I’ve apologized to my wife for my deception, but the reality is that now I must apologize to all of you. You welcomed me, gave me gifts, showed love and friendship to me, and all the while, I was lying to you—because my first reason for coming was about wood carving. I humbly ask for your forgiveness.”
There was quiet in the barn as all eyes now switched to Tabitha. She thanked Gott in advance for giving her courage. “I must confess that I would be lying if I said that I’d never carve wood again. For some reason, Derr Herr has gifted my mind and my hands to—see things in the wood. But I want to bring no shame to my fater, and I know he greatly disapproves of my carving—”
“It is I who have brought shame to my own name and to my own haus, dochder.”
Tabitha was amazed to see her fater rise to his feet. She listened in astonishment as his big voice echoed in the lofty barn.
“Some of you may know that it’s been said that Tabitha’s mother, Miriam, died of the influenza when Tabitha was but a babe. That is a lie.”
Tabitha heard the soft gasps of the church members, then glanced at her fater and found him suddenly clutching at his chest, his face suffused with color. He sagged to the barn floor and there was only the sound of his labored breathing, coming harshly through his lips.
Tabitha saw Abner push past the unmarried men, and she felt Matthew’s touch on her arm as she flew to kneel down at her fater’s side.
“I . . . can’t . . . breathe.”
“It’s all right,” she said, taking his hand between her own.
Aenti Fern had made her way to the ailing man and quickly studied her patient.
“Get a blanket,” she said. “He needs ta be carried to the hospital in Farwell. He’s had a heart attack, but I think they might be able ta help him there.”
Tabitha watched as a blanket was positioned beneath her fater; then Matthew and Abner and Big Jim and Asa Zook each took a corner of the fabric and made their way out of the Fisher barn. She ran to stay beside the makeshift gurney, praying that they would get to Farwell before it was too late to save her daed. . . .
* * *
Abner used his right arm and hand to keep John’s weight balanced on the blanket. He saw Tabitha’s hair kumme down as she kept pace beside
the fast-moving men. He looked down into John’s eyes every minute or so, grateful that he could still see life in the blue depths.
The two-mile trek overland was accomplished as quickly as possible, and Abner wasted little time with explanations as he put his shoulder against the emergency room door of the hospital.
A nurse tried to wave them down, but Abner steered the men in the direction of the swinging doors, with Tabitha still right alongside.
“Here now—what’s all this?” Dr. Carmen met them, then paused to put his stethoscope against John’s chest. He listened for a moment and nodded. “Get him in here on the table. Move!”
Abner was relieved to lower the blanket to the hospital exam table. His left arm ached from the gunshot wound and he had a bad headache. Still, he lost no time in shooing Tabitha and the other men away.
“It’s best for ya ta wait out here. Matthew—kumme—hold yer wife.”
Then Abner closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, thinking how much he wished that Anke was there.
* * *
Anke had joined in the prayers that Bishop Kore led for John but was grateful when she could head back home and wait for news. She was pacing rather aimlessly with a dishcloth in her hand when there was a rapid knock on the back door.
Anke went to open it and was both surprised and shocked to find Grace Fisher peering at her through the screen. The younger woman had a black eye and was holding shaking hands to her bleeding lip.
“Grace, kumme in. Praise Gott ya came here.”
Anke asked no questions, just helped Grace to the kitchen table and fetched a wet washcloth. Then she turned back to the cookstove and made a steaming cup of lavender tea and took it back to the table.
“Danki,” Grace whispered.
“Are the kinner all right?” Anke asked after a few minutes.
“Jah . . . he doesn’t hit them. I—I just wanted to compose myself before I geh back.”
“Ya can stay as long as ya need.”
“Danki again, Anke. I’m sorry to kumme after what happened to John . . . but I have a quilt square for you.”
Anke stared at her blankly. “A quilt square. For me?”
Grace unfolded a piece of tissue paper from her apron pocket and withdrew a fine piece of appliquéd fabric. “I thought of how strong the mountains are here at Blackberry Falls—well, you can see.”
Anke gently fingered the bright colors of the mountains captured in full fall foliage. “Grace, I don’t know what ta say.”
“Your eyes have already thanked me, Anke. Please use it at your next quilting. I—I’m not sure I will be able to come—something—might kumme up.”
“Well,” Anke said, bustling to hold back tears at the gift. “Let’s take care of ya now. How about some ice for that swollen eye?”
“Nee . . . I better geh back. He was—drinking and—he’ll probably be coming awake and need some help.”
“Don’t ya need help?” Anke asked softly.
Grace shook her head with a sad smile. “Nee . . . I’ll be fine.”
Anke went to open the back door for Grace and touched her gently on the shoulder. “Ya kumme here anytime, Grace Fisher. Ya hear?”
Grace nodded, and Anke drew in a deep breath of sadness as she watched the younger woman walk away.
* * *
Matthew tenderly swiped his wife’s hair from her beautiful eyes and bent to kiss her forehead. They had been moved by a friendly nurse to a private waiting room. But still, the hours passed slowly, and Matthew found little comfort in the television and plastic cups of instant coffee. Instead, he concentrated on braiding Tabitha’s hair and securing it with a stray pin he found among the soft tangles.
She leaned against his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her, loving the delicate weight of her bones and the scent of her hair. But her soft tears shook him and he was infinitely grateful when a doctor opened the door and asked in gentle tones for Tabitha King.
* * *
It was late, but the hospital in Farwell offered hospitality rooms for those whose relatives were in Intensive Care. Still, Abner was reluctant to leave the waiting room and kept a midnight vigil with Tabitha and Matthew.
“Your arm must pain you, Abner,” Tabitha said, peering at him from her plastic chair. “Perhaps you should have a doctor—”
“I’m fine,” Abner snapped. “Sorry, my maedel. My shoulder does hurt and I hate waiting. How was he when ya saw him?”
“In a bit of a bad way, I think.” Tabitha smiled wanly.
The heavy wooden door of the waiting room was opened and the elderly doctor who had first seen John came in. “Well, he’ll pull through all right, but he can’t run a mill anymore. He must avoid strenuous activities, keep calm, and think about what he eats.”
Abner guffawed. “Well, gut luck with those things, Doc. Though I bet he’ll do the thinking about eating bit . . .”
“Well, it’s up to you and his family and community to help with lowered stress. Now, he’s asking for Abner?”
“That’s me.”
Abner followed the doctor deep into the recesses of the hospital, where lives hung in the balance: a blinking, tube-ridden place of contrasting dark and light. When he entered John’s room, he found that it was like visiting a cave, and he wasn’t prepared to see John as part of an ordered mess of monitors and equipment.
The doctor left and Abner slowly approached the bed. He took the hand that John held out to him. “Heart attack,” John said hoarsely.
“Jah. . . . It’s time ta mebbe slow down some.”
“What of the mill?”
Abner gave his hand a hearty squeeze. “I believe ya already know that answer, John.”
Chapter Forty
By unspoken agreement, there was no mention of the shunning when John came home from the hospital. Still, Matthew decided to geh talk with Bishop Kore while Tabitha was helping Anke in the kitchen one afternoon.
Matthew walked through the bare November trees, his boots breaking the frost on the ground. The sky was leaden, threatening an afternoon snow, and he thought about taking Tabitha for a sleigh ride if they got enough on the ground.
The walk to Bishop Kore’s reminded Matthew of first coming to Blackberry Falls and of how much had changed in such a short time. He had thought that he had everything worked out the way it was supposed to geh, and Gott had showed him a very different but better plan.
He gained the steps of the bishop’s small cabin and knocked briefly. The door was opened and Bishop Kore gave him a hearty welcome.
“Matthew, my buwe! What can I do for you? Perhaps some lemming in butterscotch. . . .”
Matthew took off his black hat and smiled at the auld man. “Why do you talk like that?”
“Because my role can be difficult and I need to have some humor to lighten things up at times.”
“Wow,” Matthew said, blinking at the lucidity of the response.
Bishop Kore laughed. “But don’t let anyone in on the secret. They just think I’m narrisch except on Sundays.”
“Okay, you have my word.”
“But that’s not why you’ve come, is it?”
“Nee. I wanted to talk to you about the shunning. I’m not sure where we are with that. Once John is well, should we move back up to the cabin above the falls?”
“In truth, I believe that Gott has a way of working things out. So, stay and help John for now.”
“All right, if you say so.”
“I do,” Bishop Kore intoned, then gave him a broad wink that made Matthew laugh and set about the rest of the day with a light heart.
* * *
Anke crossed her arms over her chest and tapped out tense sounds with her right foot. “Nee,” she said bluntly.
Tabitha gave her an exasperated sigh. “But why, Anke? Daed is on the mend and it’ll be fun. After all, I didn’t do it for my wedding and—”
Anke cut her off with an exclamation of triumph. “That’s it! We will do it t
ogether, so it won’t seem like I’m tryin’ ta hog attention.”
Tabitha laughed merrily and Anke couldn’t hold back a smile herself at having solved the knotty problem of a wedding quilting.
“Sit down and have some tea,” Anke suggested, and she was pleased when the younger woman agreed. Anke looked at her former charge and found herself remembering Tabitha’s usual reluctance to do work in the kitchen.
“You’ve grown into a fine young woman,” Anke said softly.
She smiled as Tabitha reached out a hand to squeeze her arm.
“I would not have grown much without your teaching. Danki.”
Anke felt herself blush at the praise, then spoke again. “I thought your ad for a mail-order groom was a wild scheme, I have ta admit. But Matthew is a gut man.”
“And so is Abner,” Tabitha said teasingly.
Once more, Anke felt herself flush, but there was nee denying the truth of what Tabitha said. She sighed softly. Abner is a very gut man indeed.
“Anke, I do believe that you are deeply in love and that is wunderbaar!”
“Sometimes I feel foolish,” Anke admitted.
“Whatever for?”
“Ach, I’m no young duckling anymore.”
“Ducklings are a dime a dozen.... Abner wants a well-feathered duck—er, hen!”
And Anke had to laugh out loud....
* * *
Abner came in through the back door and caught Anke around the waist. He loved holding her and pressed her rosy cheek with a hearty kiss.
“Well, sweetheart, you’ve got yer wedding date—the second Thursday in December.”
He enjoyed her soft cry of joy. “Ach, Abner . . . I don’t know what ta say. It’s all happenin’ so fast.”
“Not fast enough, if ya ask me!” He pulled her closer and kissed her mouth, feeling a shiver run down his spine at her response.
She slapped his broad shoulder and laughed. “Ye’re a wicked man, Abner! But I love ya.”
He kissed her again. “And I love thee.... Now, tell me when we’re ta set up that quilting frame for yer weddin’ quiltin’?”
“It’s ta be a double quiltin’. Tabitha will celebrate with me.”
