The Rescued (20 page)

For the moment, she'd just be happy it was going well for Joseph. One problem at a time. “I'm glad. Now, don't forget that I'm going to be at Rebecca's all day tomorrow, helping with the guests. So I need to know you're here to help.”

“Ja, ja, for sure,” he said, impatient. Joseph hesitated, glancing toward the window as if looking to see who was in sight. “Something else happened today.” He couldn't seem to keep his enthusiasm from breaking through.

She really shouldn't be regarding the boy with such wariness when he was excited, but she'd learned enough about what thrilled Joseph to be cautious. “What was it?”

“Fred stopped by the school.” He glanced at her and then looked away, seeming to study the pottery pitcher on the counter.

“To see you?” She was alarmed, and a little surprised. It seemed unlike Fred to go chasing Joseph down when he knew how Isaac felt about it.

“No, not exactly.” Joseph leaned against the counter, facing her. “The thing is that he's just gotten a rush order. He has an opening for an apprentice for several hours a day. He came to the school to see if they'd recommend someone.”

Judith discovered that her hands were clenched into fists, and she struggled to relax them. “And did they?”

“Well, he didn't ask.” Joseph resumed his study of the pitcher. “You see, he was only going there because he was certain-sure Isaac wouldn't let me accept.”

She searched for the right thing to say, but couldn't seem to come up with anything. “Did you tell him Isaac's attitude had changed? That he would permit it?”

Joseph shrugged. “Well, not exactly. But things have been easier with Isaac the past few days, haven't they? And maybe I did sort of hint that he'd say yes.”

“Joseph.” She went to him, tilting his chin so that he met her gaze. How odd it seemed, that she now had to reach up to do so. “You know you shouldn't have told Fred any such thing.”

“Judith, you understand, don't you?” His blue eyes were intense with emotion. “You always understand. It's so important to me. It's the only thing I want. Isaac has to agree. He just has to!”

Her heart hurt for him. This wasn't just some passing adolescent fad with Joseph. It was real, and he felt it so. But she couldn't assure him that everything would be all right, the way she used to when he fell and hurt himself.

“I know things have been better between you and Isaac the past few days, but your brother is not one to be rushed into a decision. If he's going to agree—”

“You will help me!” Joseph clasped her hands.

Unfortunately, the disastrous effects of the last time she'd tried to intervene were still fresh in her mind. She gripped his hands firmly, and the memory of herself sitting in Rebecca's kitchen and weeping flooded in on her.

What was it Rebecca had said? Something about Isaac and Joseph needing to find their own way to a solution, instead of relying on her.

“I didn't say that.” Her throat was so tight she had to struggle to bring the words out. “I think the right thing is for you to talk to Isaac about it yourself.”

“But he never listens to me.” He jerked his hands free, turning away. “You'd do it so much better than I would.”

“Maybe, but it's not really up to me, is it? This is between you and your brother.” She fought to believe this course was for the best. “You said yourself that it's been better lately. Just talk to him, don't demand anything. Show him how important it is to you. He loves you, you know. He wants what's best for you.”

“He thinks he knows what's best.” Bitterness laced Joseph's voice.

She sent up a silent prayer for guidance. Was this the right way? She just didn't know any longer, but nothing she had done was working.

“Try, Joseph. Please. And try it remembering how close you used to be.”

Joseph didn't speak for a moment. Then he blew out a long breath. “All right. I'll try.”

He didn't sound very hopeful of success, and Judith could only pray for understanding on both sides. For peace between brothers. Surely that was God's plan for them.

Levi and Paul came storming in from school at that moment, so there was no time for more discussion. The kitchen suddenly seemed full of the boundless energy of small boys. A glance out the door told her that Noah was running toward them from the barn as fast as his little legs would carry him.

Joseph managed to smile and greet the boys, teasing them about their day at school and how much homework they had. Then he eased his way out the back door.

Would he approach Isaac cautiously on this subject? Would he bring it up in a way that would let Isaac see how important it was to him? Judith was suddenly assailed with doubts. What if the advice she'd given him was wrong?

What else could she have done? Some quiet part of her asked the question. She'd had to try something different, as hard as it was to let go when she loved them both so much. Surely this was the right path.

There was no time for Joseph to have a quiet talk with his brother now—that was certain-sure. Soon they'd start milking. The earliest it could possibly happen would be after the younger ones were in bed.

In the meantime, all she could do was tend to the boys and her own chores while keeping up a silent stream of prayers for God's guidance and help.

By the time she and Isaac went up to bed, she felt quite sure nothing had been said. The atmosphere of the house would have changed instantly if Joseph had spoken to his brother. It fretted her, knowing that Fred was probably waiting for an answer and well aware that once again she knew something that Isaac should know.

But if she told him, she'd be doing exactly what she'd decided she shouldn't do. No, she had to let Joseph handle this for once.

“Pleasant dreams.” Isaac leaned across the bed to kiss her. “You deserve them.”

She looked at him, startled. It was so unlike Isaac to voice anything that might be a compliment that she wondered if something was wrong. “Why? I mean, why do you think I deserve them?”

Even in the shaft of moonlight from the window, she could see his embarrassment. “It's nothing. It's just . . . you are so patient with the kinder, with Joseph, even with me. I know it isn't always easy, raising my brother as your own.”

She touched his cheek, her heart flooded with love for him. “He's as precious to me as the babies I carried. You know that, don't you?”

“Ja,” he said, his voice roughened. “That's what I mean.”

For an instant she thought she should speak—should try to tell him about Joseph's longing and the opportunity he had. But Isaac's arm went around her, drawing her close, and she let the moment slip away.

E
verything
at home was organized as Judith prepared to leave for Rebecca's farm-stay on Saturday morning, but her nerves were still jumpy. She'd gone over the previous afternoon to help Barbie prepare for the visitors, but since the two Englisch couples hadn't planned to have supper at the farm, she'd been able to get away early.

She'd returned to find all was still harmonious between Isaac and Joseph, and she'd been grateful that there hadn't been problems while she wasn't there. But today she would be gone all day, and the thought of trouble erupting during her absence wouldn't be banished.

She loaded a pan of cinnamon walnut coffee cake into the buggy, wedging it against the plastic container of snickerdoodles and the loaves of homemade bread. Isaac, probably sensing her fears even though she didn't mention them, had kept reminding her that Barbie had run the farm-stay before and presumably knew all about handling the guests.

The trouble was, Isaac didn't realize that she was really nervous and worried because of him—him and Joseph. She'd hoped that Joseph would talk to his brother as soon as possible, but since he hadn't done it yet, she could only hope he would wait until she'd returned.

All was in harmony at the moment. Isaac had harnessed the mare to the buggy, told her not to worry, kissed her, and gone off to finish cleaning stalls in the barn with Joseph while Levi and Paul gathered eggs. Her young sister-in-law, Miriam, was settled in the house, playing Noah's favorite game of farm animals with him and seeming delighted to be there.

Judith smiled at the thought. Miriam would be a good mother, she could tell. Noah would be fine in her care, and Isaac was close at hand if there were any problem. He'd keep the older boys busy.

She'd feel secure that everything at home was taken care of, if not for the continuing worry about Joseph. The current harmony between him and Isaac was a false one. If he decided to talk to Isaac about the apprenticeship when she wasn't there—

Well, maybe that would be for the best. At least she'd avoid the temptation to try and referee the discussion.

With one foot on the step up to the buggy seat, Judith stopped. Raised voices, coming from the barn. It didn't take much to know what was happening, and her heart started to thud in her chest. Joseph had come out with his news, and it was going badly.

The voices increased in volume. They were shouting at each other, so loud that even the mare flicked her ears back at the sound and Levi and Paul emerged from the henhouse to stare.

“It's all right, Rosie.” She patted the chestnut mare. “Nothing to do with you.”

But everything to do with her, she feared. Judith realized suddenly that all she wanted to do was pretend she hadn't heard, climb into the buggy, click to the mare, and drive away, leaving the trouble behind her. But it was too late for that escape.

She turned toward the barn. Isaac and Joseph seemed to explode out of it, both of them headed right for her. Isaac covered the ground in long, angry strides.

“Did you know about this nonsense?” he demanded, waving his arm toward Joseph.

“I told you he wouldn't listen to me!” Joseph's voice was shrill, and she thought there were tears of rage in his eyes. “I told you, didn't I?”

“So you knew about it. Why didn't you tell me?” Isaac's angry tone blamed her, and she winced.

But she wouldn't take more blame than she was entitled to. “Joseph told me yesterday afternoon, and I told him he must talk to you about it.” She glared right back at Isaac, frustrated with both of them for putting her in this spot. “I also told him that if he talked to you about it rationally, you would listen to him.”

“I knew he wouldn't,” Joseph said, before Isaac could respond. “He thinks he knows what I should do, but it's my life.”

If Isaac's anger had softened a bit when she spoke about him listening to his brother, that comment hardened it again. “I will not have my brother turning his back on his inheritance to go to work for Fred Yoder, of all people. You can just forget that idea.”

“I won't.” The two of them glared at each other, looking
very alike in their anger. “In a couple of years I'll be old enough to do what I want, and the first thing I'll do is leave here.”

“When you're old enough you can run off all you want. Until then you'll stay here and do as you're told.”

Judith's head was pounding from the loud voices, and her heart ached so that she pressed her hand against her chest. Didn't Isaac realize that he couldn't persuade his brother to stay with those tactics?

“Isaac, don't. Don't say that. This is always going to be Joseph's home.”

“Stay out of it, Judith.” Isaac looked at her as if she were a stranger. “You're not the boy's mother.”

He might as well have struck her. She took a step back, away from him. Away from them. How could he have said such a thing? Only last night he'd praised her for caring for Joseph as if he were her own.

They were both talking at her, but their voices had turned into a loud blaring that made no sense. She seemed to see them from a distance.

“Enough.” She must have said it more sharply than she realized, because they both looked at her in amazement. “I am not going to be a buffer between you two any longer. It hurts too much. You'll have to settle this quarrel for yourselves. I can't.”

In the stunned silence that followed, she climbed into the buggy, picked up the lines, and clucked to the mare. The buggy rolled off down the lane, leaving them behind.

She couldn't do anything else. She'd tried and she'd failed, every time. She just prayed she didn't pass anyone she knew on the road to Rebecca's, because she was going to be crying the whole way.

Lancaster County, Late September 1953

To her surprise, Mattie actually slept that night, even knowing what was coming the next day. Somehow, sharing the problem with Adam had made it easier for her to let go and trust God for whatever might happen.

But she seemed to have traded one problem for another, since the entire time she was cooking and serving breakfast, she'd been thinking about Adam. Was she really considering him as a potential husband? Mattie stood still, staring absently at the egg pan in her hand, and then set it in the sink.

She couldn't be. Adam was very dear to her, but she didn't have the same feelings for him that she had had for Ben. It wasn't possible.

Guilt swept over her. She'd been relying on Adam too much. Two people couldn't marry just because they needed or were needed. Well, they could, she supposed. Families had been founded for worse reasons. But if so, they ought both to be honest with themselves and with each other.

This line of thinking wasn't leading to any conclusions. Mattie tried to dismiss it, or at least sweep it to the back of her mind, so she could concentrate on getting the boys off to school. She hadn't told any of the kinder that the police would probably come today, and looking at the boys' freshly scrubbed faces, she knew she couldn't say anything to them now.

Rachel would have to know, of course, but the little ones could wait until tonight. Then she'd have to prepare them for the fact that she would probably not be there when they came home from school tomorrow. And Anna—what about Anna?

Maybe it would be best to send Anna off for the day to her
grossmammi or one of her aunts. At least then she wouldn't see her mammi being taken away by the police.

Mattie rubbed her forehead. So many plans to make. How long would she be gone? The others had been sentenced to a few days in jail. If it was the same for her, she must be sure the kinder understood and knew who would be taking care of them.

“Mammi, isn't it time for us to go?” Toby clutched his homework papers with one hand and tugged her apron with the other. “I think it is.”

She glanced at the clock. “You're right, it is. Take your lunches. Are you both sure you have your homework?”

They nodded, grabbing lunch bags from the counter. “Hurry, Nate.” Toby was practically bouncing with his impatience. “Let's go.”

“Not until I have my hugs.” She knelt to sweep them into a hug, holding them until they wiggled to be free. Then she rose, forcing herself to smile. “All right. Mind your teacher. I'll see you after school, ain't so?”

It was what Mattie always said, and the boys nodded, as always. Her heart winced as she realized that tomorrow she wouldn't be able to say the words.

It's not fair!
The rebellion startled her, coming as it did when she thought she was resigned to what she must do. But it wasn't fair. Her children had already lost their father. Why must they face this further trial?

Obey. Accept
the Lord's will.
That was the church's teaching. She believed it. But sometimes it was so hard.

With the boys off to school and Anna upstairs dressing, Mattie looked at Rachel, trying to find the right way to tell her.

“Mammi? Was ist letz?” Rachel's eyes widened as she caught her mother's expression.

“Komm. Sit.” Mattie led her to the table, and they sat down next to each other. “You know that Mrs. Graham came to see me last night.”

Rachel nodded. “She's the wife of the school board president, ain't so?”

So Rachel knew that much, which would make it easier. “She is.” She paused. “She is a gut customer. And a kind woman, I think. She seems willing to listen to what we believe about the school anyway, even if she doesn't entirely agree.”

Some of the apprehension faded from her daughter's face. “I'm glad of it. I don't like feeling as if everyone is against us.”

“I know.” Mattie put her hand over Rachel's. “She came last night because she found out something, and she thought it was right that I be told.” She couldn't help clinging a little tighter to her daughter's hand. “Mrs. Graham learned that I will be served the order today to send you to school tomorrow or be arrested.”

Tears formed in Rachel's eyes. “No, Mammi.” She shook her head. “I thought . . . I prayed and prayed that they wouldn't come for you.”

“I'm not different from any of the others.” Her voice surprised her by its calmness. “We knew that all of us would face this at some time. For me, it's come.”

Rachel swallowed, as if fighting back sobs. “Aren't you afraid?”

She owed Rachel the truth, she thought. “Ja, I am afraid, a little. But we have to trust that God is with us everywhere. Even in jail. Remember how Paul and Silas praised the Lord when they were shut up in prison?”

Rachel was silent for a long moment—long enough that Mattie began to have doubts. Had she said the right things? Was she handling this badly?

Finally Rachel met her eyes, her face very serious. “God delivered Paul and Silas,” she said. “We will pray that God will deliver you, too.”

“Ja, that's a gut prayer, for sure.” If Rachel could keep from crying, she could as well.

There was a clatter outside, and then the back door swung open, revealing Mamm Becky carrying a large basket. Beyond her, Mattie glimpsed Adam turning the cows and the buggy horse into the pasture beyond the barn, while Daad Jonah leaned on the fence.

“Here I am,” Mamm Becky announced, bustling into the kitchen and surrendering her basket to Mattie. She took off the black bonnet she'd worn to come across from her house and patted her hair to be sure it was still smooth under the kapp. “I thought we could do some baking together today.”

“We're wonderful happy to see you.” Mattie set the basket on the table. Clearly the family had decided that she shouldn't be alone today.

Rachel, turning from hugging her grandmother, walked quickly toward the stairs. “I'll make sure Anna is dressed before she comes down. When she hears you're here, she won't bother to finish.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Mamm Becky clasped Mattie in a warm hug. “Adam told us. We wanted to be sure you aren't alone in case the officer comes to serve the papers today.”

“Denke. I'm sehr glad. I think it will happen. Mrs. Graham said my name was on the list with today's date.”

“Ja, Adam said.” Mamm Becky eyed her. “Are you sure you can trust this woman? After all, her own husband is the one who is causing all the trouble.”

“I'm sure,” she said. “At least, I'm sure she believed she was telling me the truth. We understood each other, I think, the times we talked. She is a mother, too.”

Her mother-in-law shrugged. “Best to be ready, anyway. Adam said you were still up when he came by last night. Did you get any sleep?” She was busy unloading things from her basket as she talked—a big bag of the apples from the McIntosh tree that were so good for pies, a tin of cinnamon, a bag of flour, and one of sugar.

“A little,” she admitted. Mattie had to smile at the provisions Mamm Becky was unloading. As if she wouldn't have those basic ingredients. But her mother-in-law always liked to come prepared for anything.

“You guessed Adam's idea to check on your place at night, ain't so? He and Jonah weren't as quiet at slipping around as they thought they were.”

“No, I knew all along that they were there. But it did make me feel better, and Rachel, too. Adam is always kind.”

“Kind.” Mamm Becky snorted. “It is what Adam would do because he cares about you. You must know it. He would gladly go to jail in your place if allowed.”

It was Mattie's turn to study her mother-in-law's face. “Did he tell you that he wants me to marry him so that he can take my place?”

“He didn't tell me anything, but I can see as well as anyone which way the wind is blowing. Why didn't you tell him yes?”

Mattie should have known that Mamm Becky would ask
the tough question. “I can't. I can't marry him just to let him protect me. It wouldn't be right.”