“Ja, but what was she to do?” he asked. How many times had he tried to put himself into her head? “The walk home would have been many miles. We checked telephone messages every few days, maybe. If she’d called, she’d have had to wait for hours wherever she was, until I grew worried enough because she was late coming home to check messages at the phone shanty. Perhaps her friend had had a few drinks before when they had lunch, but driven safely. I don’t know.”
“Not knowing what she thought and felt is the kind of thing that can torment a man.”
“It is,” Gideon conceded. “I pleaded many times for God not to forsake me, and I have faith that He didn’t. It’s said He is near to those who have a broken heart, and I felt that. For the kinder, understanding that He called Leah home because He needed her is harder, but they try.”
“Then let us pray now.”
Gideon was not surprised that the bishop chose Psalms 23:4.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear not evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
Head bowed, Gideon murmured, “Amen.” These were words that did comfort him. In that moment, he knew he had been right to uproot his kinder and move. His Lord had led him here, to a bishop both wise and kind.
Amos did ask him for the names of the students who’d been so eager to tell scandalous tales to their friends. Betrayed as Gideon felt, at least none of the parents were ones he knew well, although he thought the boy, Yonnie, might be Rebecca King’s younger brother.
The bishop looked pained, and said, “They need to be reminded that Matthew told us, ‘Therefore, whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.’ ” He smiled at Gideon and laid a hand on his arm. “For you, ‘Then Jesus said, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.’ ”
The verse from Luke was also familiar to Gideon, who replied, “Denke for the reminder. Yesterday, I let myself feel too much anger. I thought to go talk to the parents myself, but that would have been a mistake.”
“Taking time to reason with yourself before you act is smart when quick action isn’t required to help another person.”
Gideon rose to his feet. “Talking to you has eased me. I’ll let you get back to work, while I do the same.”
On the trip home, he urged his gelding to a brisker-than-usual pace. It would be good to accomplish something before stopping for lunch.
Even more, though, he sought the reassurance of seeing Hannah.
Instead, as he started up the driveway, he saw a young Amishwoman coming from his house to the road. She stepped hastily to one side to let the buggy pass. Not more than sixteen or seventeen years old, she was the schoolteacher’s assistant.
Gideon reined in his horse. “Daniela?”
“I brought Rebekah home. She didn’t feel good. Probably part of this sickness going around.”
A new worry. He bent his head. “Denke. I’ll go see how she is.”
The girl hurried on, and he snapped the reins.
* * *
* * *
Hannah was glad to hear the buggy, and peeked out to be sure it was Gideon.
She gently stroked a strand of hair back from Rebekah’s forehead and tucked it under the kapp. “Your daadi is home. Do you want to wait to see him, or go straight to bed?”
Her eyes widened. “I want to lie down. If . . . if I can take a bowl with me.”
“Of course you can.” Hannah grabbed a sturdy ceramic bowl and ushered the six-year-old upstairs. She sat on the bed while Rebekah changed into her nightgown, giving passing thought to Julia and Miriam’s promise to come to Gideon’s house a couple of afternoons this week. She was grateful this was not one of those days.
When Rebekah was ready, Hannah tucked her in, hung up her dress and kapp on pegs on the wall, and closed the curtains. “I’ll check on you often, I promise, but yell if you need me, ja?”
Rebekah’s head bobbed.
Hannah bent to kiss her cool forehead, smiled again, and went downstairs just as the back door opened and closed with more force than sometimes.
Gideon was waiting for her at the foot of the staircase. “I saw Daniela Wagler.”
“Oh! I was embarrassed because I didn’t remember her name.”
“She said Rebekah is sick.”
“I just tucked her into bed, but . . .” She hesitated. “Can we talk in the living room?”
He nodded and let her go ahead of him. There, she sat in a wooden rocking chair and waited until he sank onto the sofa.
Then she said bluntly, “I don’t think she’s really sick. Daniela said she asked for permission to use the bathroom and came out saying she’d thrown up. I haven’t taken her temperature yet, but she’s cool to the touch, and she amended her story when I expressed surprise that she doesn’t have a cold like the other sick kinder. Suddenly, she has a sore throat, too.”
“You think it’s an act.”
“Ja. You saw how she was yesterday. She told me she didn’t want to go to school today. I wish I’d said something to you.”
His jaw tightened. “Lying isn’t acceptable.”
“No, but she’s young. Maybe her stomach really is upset because she’s so anxious. It’s also possible one of those kinder taunted her before Teacher Tabitha called them in.”
Gideon sighed and reached up to knead the back of his neck. “Back home, before we moved, Zeb did this once. The other students were talking then, too.”
“But why? If their mother died in an accident . . .”
“If?” he snapped. “Do you think I’m lying?”
Stung by what was really an accusation, she exclaimed, “Of course not! But Zeb and Rebekah couldn’t have been the first kinder in your former church district to have a parent who died. I know it can be awkward. Even as an adult, it’s hard to know what to say to somebody who just lost a loved one. But if the talk was malicious . . .”
His shoulders were held tensely, almost braced. The stare from his dark eyes hadn’t softened, either. “Malicious?”
Of course he didn’t know what “malicious” meant. He was fluent, but that wasn’t exactly an everyday word. “Nasty. Meant to be hurtful.”
“Back then, it wasn’t that, I don’t think, but the kinder were curious, and too ready to share what they’d heard at home. I kept Zeb home from school for two weeks, but longer might have been better.”
She’d sworn she wouldn’t question him, but she needed to say this.
“I think you didn’t tell them everything—”
“At their ages?” Once again, anger honed an edge to his voice.
She kept her back straight and her chin high even though she trembled inside. “Yesterday, I wondered if Zeb was old enough to notice how little you did say.”
He glared at her long enough for her to think maybe she’d overstepped, but for his kinder, she couldn’t let herself back down.
“It’s not my business,” she said as calmly as she was able, even as she wished that weren’t true. “I know that. But how can they counter the talk if they don’t know the truth?”
He was not a man who liked to back down, either, and he held her gaze longer than was comfortable. Then, suddenly, he closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let his head drop forward.
It was all Hannah could do not to leap up to lay a hand on his shoulder. Odd, when she’d never been much for casual touching, but she often had to fight the impulse where Gideon was concerned.
Because she wanted to touch him. She wanted him to touch her. The admission was humbling and even embarrassing, especially since he
was such a guarded man. Except with his kinder, touching wouldn’t come easily for him, either.
But he lifted his head just then, his expression holding a world of pain. “I don’t want them ever to think less of their mother,” he said hoarsely. “How can that be good for them?”
Did she wish she’d never learned what her own mother had done? Hannah asked herself. Mom had never been reliable, but Hannah had always believed she did her best. That she loved her daughter. Now she’d lost that certainty, might never be able to piece together a relationship. Would she go back, if she could?
She had to speak for Rebekah and Zeb, not herself.
“I think it depends what happened that you want to keep from them,” she said softly. “Here, you didn’t have to worry about it, and maybe they were better off, but now, somebody thinks they know everything.”
“They don’t know,” he said gruffly.
“It’s almost as bad if they’re only guessing. Or maybe it’s worse.”
He surged to his feet and left her in the living room. A minute later, she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
Chapter Seventeen
Rebekah lay curled in bed with her back to the door. Pretending she was asleep, Gideon thought. A ceramic bowl sat beside the pillow.
His daughter looked so small like this, reminding him of when she was a boppli. Not so long ago, and yet it seemed forever. Back then, he’d spent more time than he could afford doing nothing but standing beside the cradle and then the crib looking down at her, marveling at this second gift from God, watching for the next breath, and the next.
Knowing that he would do anything for her, as he would for her brother, by then a sturdy, active toddler. As he would have for any child of his.
Now, Gideon sat on the edge of her bed, his weight compressing the mattress. If anything, Rebekah stiffened. Squeezing her shoulder, he said, “If you were afraid to go to school, you could have told me.”
She rolled toward him. “I’m sick! I am!”
He smiled at her. “Hannah told me not to worry because you don’t have a fever.”
“She didn’t take my temperature.”
“Usually when they’re sick, people feel hot to the touch.”
“Oh.” Then, subdued, she said, “I did throw up.”
“I’m sorry.” He slid his hand around her neck and began to gently knead.
Tears flooded her eyes. “Daadi, why are they so mean? Why would my friends say things like that about Mammi?”
“Was it your friends?”
She snuffled, and wiped her wet eyes with her sheet. “Not my . . . my special friends, like Adah and Beth. And Naomi. And today, Adah and her big sister Emma were waiting for me and Zeb to say they were sorry, that the people talking were nothing but doppicks. But . . . but . . .”
“But?”
“But that Bernice ran over and said, ‘Why didn’t your mamm take you when she went? Of course she left Zeb, who’d want him, but you’d think she’d take her daughter.’ ”
Why hadn’t he kept his kinder home today, to give Amos time to speak to the parents? They were young; he’d been foolish to think they’d be able to confidently retort, No, you’re wrong, Mamm wasn’t leaving us, she was with a friend, not a man, it was just an accident, and then brush off any repeat of hateful rumors.
My fault.
Knowing his rage would be of no help right now, he tugged her toward him. Crying in earnest, Rebekah wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his torso.
“Did you say, ‘My mamm wasn’t leaving us, you don’t know what you’re talking about’?”
Her head shook. “Zeb threw himself at her and they fell down in the dirt. Tabitha separated them and talked to both of them alone. She made them both sit facing the wall. Except not near each other.”
“She was right to do that. Do you know why?”
This head shake was more vigorous. She actually sat up so she could see his face. “Bernice was being hateful, and Zeb was just mad because she was so mean to me.”
“Ja, and I understand that he thought he was protecting you.” And was maybe mad because Bernice had insulted him, too. “But you know we don’t believe in hitting other people, no matter how mad we are. Our Lord tells us not to resist an evil person. ‘But whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.’ ”
She gazed at him with beseeching eyes. “Is Bernice our enemy, like in the Bible?”
“Do you think she is?” he asked, curious to hear how she’d respond.
After a long moment, his daughter shook her head. “She helps me with my schoolwork sometimes, and when Toby fell playing eckball and skinned his knee and was crying, she put her arm around him and led him to the schoolhouse so Teacher could clean up his knee and put a bandage on it.”
“I’m glad you remember the kind things she’s done. I think she just got excited because she heard her parents talking about what happened to your mamm, and she didn’t stop to wonder if they’d been told wrong information. So she whispered to other kinder, and none of them thought, ‘Will it hurt Rebekah and Zeb’s feelings if we ask questions or tell them what we heard?’ ”
She stared at him, teardrops still clinging to her eyelashes. “I should have said, ‘Why would you say things like that, when you don’t know what really happened? Why are you being mean?’ ”
He smiled. “Ja, that would have been good. Much better than pretending you were sick so you could come home.”
She heaved a sigh. “It’s just . . . why did Mammi go with Brooke if she drove her car so fast? Why didn’t she yell, ‘Stop!’ or make her go slow?”
His own eyes burning, Gideon pulled her convulsively into another embrace, and whispered against her head, “I don’t know. Maybe she did, and Brooke didn’t listen.”
“That’s what I think. I’m glad you wouldn’t let us ever, ever, ever go in the car.”
“Ja. Me, too.”
They stayed quiet, holding on to each other, for several minutes. Finally, he used his forearm to swipe at his eyes to be sure any dampness was erased, then set Rebekah away from him.
“Usually, we’d talk about why you don’t tell lies.”
Her lower lip trembled, but she bobbed her head.
“Today, though, I only have a question for you. Do you want to spend the day in bed, or would you rather get dressed and help Hannah in the kitchen and the garden?”
Her face lit. “Can I?”
“Ja.” He kissed her forehead. “Now I must go to work.”
He left her scrambling out of bed to collect her clothes, and went downstairs. Hannah was wiping an already clean table, her head coming up the minute she heard him on the stairs.
“We had a talk,” he said gruffly. “I told her she could spend the day with you.”
First relief transformed her worried expression, then joy. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”
It was all he could do not to step forward and cup her cheek with his hand. Bend his head towards her—
Her eyes widened. He saw something in them that frightened him. Even so, stepping back was hard, wrenching. He wanted to run away from her, as he did too often, but first there was something he had to say.
“Denke for talking sense to me. For making me think before I said the wrong thing to my daughter.”
She had pulled back into herself, appearing dignified and untouchable, but still said, “Gern schehne.” You’re welcome.
Gideon nodded, grabbed his hat from the table, and went out the door. He must first take care of his horse, no doubt patiently waiting where he’d been left even though Gideon hadn’t tethered him before running into the house.
* * *
* * *
After hearing about the morning from Rebekah, Hannah was not surprised to see Zeb’s mutinous
expression that afternoon. Fortunately, this was one of the days Susan Miller had walked the kinder to school and picked them up, so Hannah only had to wait at the foot of the driveway and wave when he appeared. Rebekah had hung back.
He didn’t even acknowledge them, keeping his head down. More worrisome, he didn’t bother looking for traffic before crossing the road.
Susan looked sympathetic, but with a toddler on her hip, a little girl clutching her skirt, and Enoch already running toward his house, she couldn’t stop to talk.
Hannah smiled ruefully and waved. When Zeb marched past her, she touched his shoulder, but he jerked away from her touch and kept going. He stomped past his sister without a word, too.
It would be interesting to see whether he tried going off by himself to sulk, or waited for a snack and then did his chores. After being in trouble all day at school, did he really want to anger his daad, too?
Well, both kinder had been not only obedient, but exceptionally cheerful, since Hannah started to work. That had to wear off eventually. She had no intention of letting him sulk, even if that made him mad.
He was nowhere to be seen when she and Rebekah reached the house. If he wasn’t in his bedroom, would Rebekah know where he liked to hide?
In the quiet kitchen, Hannah said, “Well, it looks like Zeb doesn’t want his milk and cookies.”
“I do,” Rebekah said hopefully.
Hannah laughed. “You’ve already had plenty of cookies.” As a helper, of course Rebekah had to do taste tests. They’d tried a new kind today, a plump cross between a cookie and a muffin, using pumpkin puree. Rebekah had enjoyed squirting orange and green icing on them. Both of them had agreed that these were as good as oatmeal-raisin or sugar cookies.
Ready to start preparations for dinner, Hannah decided to give Zeb a few minutes before going looking for him.
“Rebekah, will you sweep the mudroom?” she asked. “And then the front porch?”
Rebekah nodded eagerly. It was good for her to do chores she could handle on her own, instead of always being the helper. Hannah hadn’t thought of it that way, but taking over the cooking, grocery shopping, and much of the housework when she was young had allowed her to feel as if she had some control over her own life. She had hated feeling helpless, the big decisions always out of her hands. No surprise if Rebekah felt the same, if for different reasons.
Finding Hope Page 19
