An Amish Family Reunion (16 page)

Matthew placed him on the folded quilt and met the gaze of his wife. Martha’s expression was a mixed stew of anger, sorrow, and guilt. Her brown eyes were red-rimmed and deeply lined. Dark purple smudges beneath her lower lashes indicated she’d slept little. “What happened?” he repeated, keeping his tone even.

Martha closed her blouse, rose, and settled the infant on her hip. “I’m putting both the
kinner
to bed. Then I’ll tell you what happened while you eat your supper. As the story has waited this long, I’m sure it can wait another twenty minutes.” She bent down, grabbed Noah’s unencumbered arm and practically dragged him into the house.

Matthew’s hands clenched into fists while he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Anger and fear welled up in his throat like stomach acid.
My son has been hurt and no one told me? I am the boy’s father, not some casual acquaintance dropping by to chew the fat after work
.

For half the time Martha was upstairs washing and dressing the children for bed, he paced the porch. He needed to burn off his disappointment with her or this trouble could easily escalate out of control. His parents hadn’t raised him to be a hothead, but seeing his son’s broken arm triggered a protective instinct that was hard to tamp down. Back and forth he paced like the unfortunate lion in a concrete enclosure he’d seen at the Cleveland Zoo.

Finally he entered his home somewhat better composed and sat down at the table with a glass of cold milk. Ten minutes later a pale Martha Miller crept into the room. She pulled a plate of fried chicken from the oven and potato salad from the fridge and set them near his place setting. Sliced cucumbers and tomatoes already waited on his plate. Without an ounce of appetite, he pushed his dinner away. “I’d like you to tell me what happened.”

She lowered herself into a chair. “I was doing laundry with the baby in her sling. Noah was tagging after me back and forth from the wringer washer to the clothesline. The baby finally dozed off, so I decided to lay her down in the crib in the living room. Noah was playing with his blocks on the mudroom floor. I was gone for two minutes,” she exclaimed, meeting his eyes briefly. “During that time, he climbed up onto the electric dryer using the stepladder that leaned against it.” What little color her face had faded away. “One minute he was on the floor, the next he was atop that machine. I screamed when I walked in and saw him close to the edge.” Martha’s head dropped to her chest. “I startled him and he fell. His poor arm is broken in two places.”

From her gasps, he suspected she was crying. A growing puddle on the oak surface soon confirmed it. “Go on. Please tell me the rest, Martha,” he prodded. Guilt and shame replaced his earlier pique. Where was he when his family needed him? Almost a hundred miles away.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she wailed. “I put the baby back in her sling, picked up Noah, grabbed my purse, and ran next door. I was almost hysterical, but the neighbor calmed me down and drove us to the hospital.” Martha glanced up. “I don’t know why we must have that dryer in the mudroom! We won’t ever use it or any of the other electric appliances.”

Matthew peered around the room. It was an odd assortment of what they’d brought with them from Ohio and things already here. “Because this is a rental house. We can’t expect our landlord to rip things out when we could move to an Amish home at any time.”

She shook her head, but continued the narrative. “At the emergency room, the nurse on duty wouldn’t treat Noah until I handed over that insurance card you gave me.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

“How did she know we had insurance? Most Amish folks don’t.” He couldn’t understand her agitation at the ER.

“The nurse asked me while filling out a form on her clipboard. I couldn’t lie, so I said we had insurance through your job, but I had no intention of using it! It’s not the Amish way. I’d planned to use what we’ve saved for a house to pay the hospital bill.” Martha was breathing hard and fighting back more tears.

“I know what is and what isn’t Amish way,
fraa
,” he said hoarsely. “But since you had
told
her we had insurance, an
Englischer
wouldn’t understand your refusal to hand over the card.” His voice hardened with her continued focus on unimportant details. “How is Noah? Will the broken arm heal properly?”

“
Jah
, they set the bone. It should mend quite well, according to the pediatrician. But he must wear that cast for six weeks and not get it wet. How can I bathe him properly and keep that…club dry?”

Matthew released an audible sigh. “Thank the Lord.” He sucked in three deep gulps of air before pushing forward onto the stickier topic. “You should have asked the neighbor to call me. You have the number of Rolling Meadows along with my foreman’s cell phone number.”

Her brown eyes darkened. “And what would you have done, Matthew? Borrowed one of those expensive horses and ridden home bareback? No one would want to drop work to drive you all the way here. I didn’t even know the name of the hospital she had taken us to until the next day.” Martha sounded indignant, as though his earning a living was an expendable option.

Matthew slapped his palm down on the table. “The neighbor would have known the hospital’s name. And how I got home would have been
my
problem, Martha. I am your husband and those
kinners’ daed
! You had no right to keep this accident from me. I love them as much as you do and would have come home if I had to use a taxicab.”

With that she dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing. Normally a woman’s grief broke his heart, yet this time he couldn’t offer a single word of comfort. He stomped outdoors into the cool night air to release his frustration. He gazed for some time at the star-filled sky. How did their marriage, their life, run so far off track? And what could he do to fix things?

Throughout that long night Matthew sat at his son’s bedside, rocking in the chair and thinking. He dozed off and on, and by morning he had one nasty stiff neck. Noah would soon awaken with a two-and-a-half-year-old’s irrepressible spirit. Matthew finally realized he couldn’t solve this conundrum alone. He turned the matter over to God in a long, tear-filled prayer. Only a powerful, merciful Lord could help these two angry lost lambs find their way back to each other.

Julia rocked in her porch swing as though it were some type of onerous chore to complete. Back and forth she pumped her legs, banging the swing into the house wall without even realizing it. She didn’t notice because her mind was many miles away, split in three different directions.

“Are you
trying
to knock a hole in the house, Julia?” asked Simon, stepping onto the porch. He carried cups of hot tea. “You’re rattling dishes on the shelves.”

She looked up, planting both feet on the porch boards. “
Mir leid
,” she apologized. “I was so distracted I didn’t realize the commotion I caused.” She gratefully accepted the cup he offered.

Simon sat down next to her. “What has you so stymied? You haven’t been your normal jovial self lately.”

She laughed at his rare sarcasm. “A regular barrel of monkeys, that’s me.” She drank deeply and stared into the black brew. “I am so unhappy, Simon. The good weather is finally here—time for gardening, picnics, and open buggy rides, but all I can think about is how much I miss my
kinner
.”

“Henry’s trying to saddle a horse without getting bit for his efforts. Should I tell him to show his face? Maybe come help you punch a hole in the siding?”

Instead of smiling at her husband’s attempt to cheer her up, Julia started to cry, despite vowing not to be so weak and morose. “He’s the only one left,” she wailed. “My other three are far away, and who knows when they’ll be back?”

Simon sobered at her utter melancholy. “What hear you from Matthew and Martha?”

“Nothing. A few lines that they are well from time to time. No details, and not a word as to when they might be coming home.”

He gently put the swing in motion again. “And our Leah? I thought she and Jonah were only visiting Wisconsin for a couple weeks. She’ll be back before you know it.”

Julia tried to calm down. “Joanna only moved here to Ohio to help care for her aging parents, but both Burkholders have now passed on to their reward. The rest of her family lives in Wisconsin—the place Jonah still considers home, according to our daughter.” She tilted back her head and closed her eyes. “What if Jonah decides they should remain in Hancock? He’d have no trouble selling that farm for a fair price. Buyers for a dairy operation would line up at his door.”

Simon raked his snow-white beard with his fingers, his mood rapidly deteriorating to match hers. “Oh, my, Wisconsin is so far away to visit, especially with your arthritis. But at least Emma and James aren’t going anywhere. They’re four peas in a pod at Hollyhock Farms.”

Julia emitted an inappropriate noise for a mature woman married to a deacon. “Charm—they might as well be on the moon. When was the last time Emma came to visit with my grandsons? Busy, busy, busy—that’s the excuse she gives me every time I call her from the phone shack.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “That telephone is only to be used in emergencies. Letters are for talking to kin.”

“It was an emergency. I was dying of loneliness!”

Simon could have chastised her for bald-faced exaggeration, but he didn’t. “We need everybody here for a good long visit. Let’s plan a family get-together. Everyone must come and stay at least two weeks or face shunning.”

Julia dabbed her eyes and stared at him. In all their years of marriage, Simon had never made light of such a serious matter as excommunication from the Amish church. “Like a reunion?”

“Matthew from New York, Leah from Wisconsin, Emma from the moon—or Charm, whichever—all must come this summer for a family reunion. We’ll even walk out to the barn and tell Henry. He can invite that gal he’s been courting and doesn’t think we know.” Simon chortled with delight. “A Miller family reunion. No excuses will be accepted.”

Julia threw her arms around his neck and squeezed, knocking his glasses askew. “
Danki, ehemann
. Did I ever mention that I love you very much?”

He struggled against her embrace, pushing his glasses up his nose. “
Jah, jah
, once or twice, but it’s nice to hear it a third time. Now go write your letters. I’ll see they go out in the early post.”

Julia rose to her feet and staggered inside as though she’d consumed apple cider that had begun to ferment. Her legs had stiffened in the evening air, but there wasn’t another tear shed that night…or for many nights to come.

A
watched clock doesn’t move, according to
grossmammi
. And the same could be said of a calendar under close scrutiny, according to Phoebe. When Eli selected Wednesday for their meeting at the library, she knew she would have difficulty getting through Monday and Tuesday. What was the matter with her? It was a struggle just to keep from grinning foolishly every waking moment. Never before had working on a project appealed so much. But the thought of creating illustrations for Eli’s delightful children’s story was the most exciting opportunity of her life—even better than visiting Niagara Falls, and that was saying a lot.

On Monday she helped her mother with laundry and ironing from sunup until time to cook supper. Then she peeled potatoes, snapped green beans, and fried a dozen pork chops without rolling her eyes once. After supper, when her little brother asked her to play a game of Parcheesi, she agreed despite the fact she could barely keep her lids open. On Tuesday she weeded and hoed the garden and then picked slugs from the cabbages, brussels sprouts, and cauliflower by hand. Under a merciless sun she tossed the slimy critters into a bucket of sudsy water without sneaking to the shade the moment Hannah was out of sight. Even though her dress stuck to her back and her legs itched from brushing against nettles, Phoebe didn’t complain once about her chores. She would give her
mamm
no reason not to let her go to town Wednesday afternoon.

When the anticipated day finally arrived, she expected to awaken with a case of chicken pox or a head cold or some mysterious ailment that caused a person’s hair to fall out. But she felt perfectly fine as she picked a bushel of strawberries to make into jam later in the week, and there had been a normal number of lost hairs in her brush. Hannah answered her request to visit the library with an immediate, “I don’t see why not.” She explained that she wanted to study books to see how realistically scenes were depicted. That was the honest truth. She just didn’t mention she would be consulting those illustrations with someone else.