The Longing (34 page)
Chris wondered what he meant.
“I’ve made a hard decision,” Caleb said. “My father seemed to change overnight . . . he became downright
niedrich
—humble—before he died. I have to say it got my attention.”
Chris leaned forward, listening.
“My father not only willingly gave me his land, Chris . . . he gave me something else. Something better.” Caleb got up and went to the dresser, picking up the deed again. “Our great-grandfather—yours and mine—owned this property. Did you know that?”
Fascinated, Chris looked at the old deed again.
Caleb pointed to the former owner. “Right there, see? Christian C. Yoder. Guess what the middle initial stands for.”
Chris laughed. “No way.”
“Kinda spooky, jah?”
Caleb handed it to Chris. “Yep, your name’s on there, too—must’ve been your namesake.” He spoke of all the blood kin who’d lived out their lives here in this house, on this land. “All of them following the Old Ways to the best of their ability, then dyin’ and never knowing what my father experienced in the last days of his life. Never knowin’ the assurance of their salvation.
“Before Daed died, he pleaded with me to make the faith he found my own.” Caleb’s face shone. “I’m glad to say I finally took him up on it. I’ll see my Daed again someday. And I know now it’s not a prideful thing to say I’m born again—since the Lord himself paid the price for me.”
Chris gave him a firm handshake. “Now, that’s the best news, cousin. Hey, we’re brothers now.”
Caleb smiled. “Sounds good to me!”
Thursday afternoon, on the way over to Caleb’s, Chris stopped in at Nellie’s Simple Sweets. He’d considered what he wanted to do and hoped Nellie Mae might agree to see him again. After all, revival meetings were still in full swing at Tel Hai.
Besides, he was anxious to see how she might react to his invitation. He recalled her lingering tenderness toward Caleb, even though Chris was certain she was happy to be in his company now.
At first, she seemed surprised to see him, since he usually came later in the afternoon. She was walking over from the house, carrying several medium-sized boxes—filled with fruit pies, he assumed.
He rushed to help. “Here, let me take those.”
“Are ya back for more desserts?” Her quick smile gave her away. She
was
glad to see him.
“I was hoping you’d go again to the revival meeting this Saturday night.”
She paused, like she might be thinking it through. Then she said, “All right. Sounds nice.”
Filled with a growing sense of excitement, he carried the pies to the bakery shop. He tempered his grin when he saw Nellie’s mother behind the counter in the bakery shop today.
He greeted her, and Mrs. Fisher held his gaze, smiling. “Can I interest you in two pies today, Mr. Yoder?” she teased.
Deciding to try something new, he bought a peach cobbler. Then, waving good-bye to both Nellie Mae and her mother, he headed back to his car. He noticed Nellie standing in the window. He waved again and was tempted to memorize the outline of her, carrying it in his mind all the way to Caleb’s.
After milking was done, when they were washing up in the milk house together, Chris mentioned the surprise he had out in the car. Caleb perked up his ears, and Chris went to get the peach cobbler, still warm from the sun.
Coming into the kitchen, he placed it on the table, and Caleb’s eyes widened. “I see you’ve been to Nellie’s bakery shop.”
Chris could hardly contain his pleasure. “This is just one small thank-you for letting me hang around with you here, in the country.” He dished up ample portions and served the dessert first to Caleb, then to himself. “I also thought you might like a tasty reminder of someone’s baking skills.”
“Well, believe me, this here’s somethin’ you don’t soon forget.”
They exchanged banter about their favorite foods—pies and pastries included—and Chris’s plans to head to college soon.
Then Caleb said, “You know, I used to be able to talk with Nellie ’bout most anything. She has no idea what’s happened to me.”
“That you’re saved, you mean?”
Caleb nodded. “Honestly, it’s still hard to think of it just that way.”
Chris listened.
“Even so, I know I’ve already lost her.” Caleb reached for another scoop of cobbler. “And rightly so.”
Seeing the look of longing in Caleb’s eyes, Chris inhaled deeply. “Listen, Cousin—”
Caleb’s laugh was hearty. “Hey, it’s
brother
, remember?”
“Brother it is.” Chris stared at his Plain cousin, who so closely resembled himself in so many ways. “You know, Caleb, you’ve shared some personal things with me about you and Nellie Mae. . . .”
Caleb’s head jerked up, his fork poised in midair. “Jah?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking . . . and I realize it’s time I leveled with
you
. . . .”
Rhoda parked her car up the road and walked along the shoulder, down to the house. The horse pasture on this side of her father’s house was shaded with cottonwoods, all lined up in a straight row. She’d leaned against the trunks of those very trees, counting slowly to one hundred, while her sisters ran and hid, back when they were all little girls.
Breathing in the sweetness of honeysuckle, she dared to let her eyes roam over the rambling paddock and the neatly trimmed front yard. It looked to her like the picket fence had been newly whitewashed, and she was struck by a pang of sadness, not having been around to help with a chore she’d always enjoyed.
She tried not to look at the house directly as she made her way up the drive, as self-conscious as she’d ever been in her pretty blue skirt and blue and yellow floral-print blouse, her short hair free and floating against her cheeks.
What’ll Dat say when he sees me all fancy like this?
She could only imagine the jolt to his heart.
Hoping she would not cause more pain for her parents, she hurried through the grass and crept into the barn. The acrid sting of manure mixed with the sweat of the horses overwhelmed her—she’d forgotten the smells of her father’s beloved trade.
She moved past the stable toward the little woodworking shop, where she spied Dat bent over his wooden desk in the corner, poring over his logs of birthing schedules and training programs.
Pausing at the threshold, she leaned against it.
This is it . . . the end of all my so-called fun.
She pushed up her glasses. “Dat . . . it’s Rhoda,” she said softly.
He turned, his startled expression turning into a full smile. “Well, well. Gut to see ya, daughter.”
“You too.” She felt the lump in her throat. “You have a minute?”
He rose and pulled out a chair. “For you, Rhoda, I’d say far more than a minute.”
She found courage in his reaction to her being here. “I’ll get right to the point.” Struggling not to cry, she looked down. Oh, she needed his acceptance, his love. And she needed the openness of fields and pastureland once again—even the woods appealed to her now that she’d been gone so long. Being cooped up in a one-room apartment wasn’t at all what her heart craved. “I was terribly wrong, Dat. . . .”
“Rhoda, whatever you’ve done—”
“Truth is, I’m just plain miserable.” She looked at him, this man who worked harder than anyone she knew. He’d never asked for anything special or unreasonable—only that his children yielded to his covering as their loving father. “The worst of it was breaking your heart,” she said. “Yours and Mamma’s. For that, I’m most sorry.”
He tugged on his beard, his eyes piercing hers. “Would you like to come home, daughter?”
She wanted to laugh. No, cry. “Where would I park my car?” She knew it sounded ridiculous, even prideful to think she could live here again, yet have much of her own way.
A slow smile reached across his tan face. “Well, last I looked we’ve got a nice big woodshed.”
She could tell by his sincere, steady gaze that he wasn’t kidding. “You’d let me come home and still be . . . well, a bit fancy?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs. For a moment he stared at the floor filled with sawdust and chips of wood. “Just how fancy do ya mean?”
She’d thought it all through. “Well, I’d like to attend the Beachy church—if they’ll have me back—and dress more Plain than I am now, of course.” She stared down at her favorite skirt and pretty white sandals.
Willing to give an inch so you can have a mile, Dat must be thinking.
“I’ll keep working hard for the Kraybills’. If you want me to quit the restaurant, I’ll do that. And, once I get back on my feet, I’ll start paying you room and board.”
He waved his hand and shook his head. “Ach, just help your mother and sisters all you can. How’s that?” He got up with a grunt and walked with her all the way down the lane and out to see her new car. And before she opened the door, he asked, “Heard you’ve got yourself some sort of lease where you’re stayin’?”
“Mrs. Kraybill’s agreed to handle that with my landlord.” She’d covered all her bases, at least for now. Her brother James liked the idea of having her television, and any other fancy cast-offs she wanted to sell him at a discount. That way she wouldn’t have a pile of questionable items sitting out in a yard sale, making Dat and Mamma a laughingstock.
“I must confess that I’ve prayed for unity amongst the People till the cows come home.” He closed the car door for her and leaned on the open window. “But charity always begins at home, ya know.” She saw tears in his eyes, and her heart lifted.
“Denki, Dat . . . ever so much. You’ve made my day!” She couldn’t believe she’d just said one of Ken’s favorite expressions.
Waving, she pulled onto the road, waiting until she was out near Route 10 before she gave in to her joyful tears.
Nellie, Nan, and Mamma stood next to the bakery shop window, all bunched together, their noses nearly touching the pane as they watched Dat walk down toward the road with Rhoda. “What could they be talking ’bout?” Nan asked.
Nellie realized she had been holding her breath. “Ach, do ya think Rhoda might be thinkin’ of coming home?” she nearly gasped.
Nan did a little jig next to her, sniffling and then pressing her lips together. “I won’t cry . . . I just won’t!”
Mamma, more serene, slipped a plump arm around each of them. “Don’t ever doubt it, dear ones . . . you’re seein’ firsthand how God answers prayer.”
Oh, please let it be so!
thought Nellie, squeezing Nan’s hand.
Rosanna eagerly awaited the sound of Elias’s footsteps on the stairs, especially during the noon hour, when he so kindly carried up a large tray of food for the two of them. The families from their church had been faithful in keeping them supplied with hot meals for both lunch and supper.
Such a blessing . . .
Elias had repositioned the bed from its original spot, so she could look out the window when she tired of reading or needlework. At times, she could even watch Elias out in the field, as the second cutting of alfalfa was in full swing.
She tired so easily anymore that sometimes it was all she could do to stay awake when Nellie Mae dropped by to read aloud from the Bible. Yesterday, Rhoda—who’d just returned home—had come to visit for a few hours, sitting upstairs with her and crocheting baby things right along with Rosanna. Such good company she was, and what stories she told on herself—ever so amusing. Sobering too.
Today, when Elias brought up a delicious meal of hamburger puffs topped with cream sauce, green beans, and a side of cabbage slaw, he sat and talked with Rosanna about the possibility of inviting Rhoda to stay with them, for pay, when Lena’s baby was born. That way, she’d have someone to help with Jonathan—as they’d named him already, hoping he would in fact turn out to be a boy—while she waited for her own little one to arrive.
If all continues to go well . . .
“Will you want Lena to come for a while, too, maybe?” Elias asked, shoveling a bite into his mouth.
She cringed, thinking of her cousin Kate’s coming too often last year. “As a wet nurse, ya mean?”
He nodded, his mouth still full.
“Maybe . . . I’ll ask her if she’d feel comfortable staying for the first few days.” But then she thought of all the children Lena had to care for at home.
Surely there’s a wet nurse close by.
Once her own baby was born, Rosanna wondered if she might not have plenty of breast milk for two wee ones. But if not, she would resort to infant formula, just as she had with Eli and Rosie.
“Looks like the Lord’s goin’ to give us the desire of our hearts,” Elias said, reaching for his glass. “With Lena’s baby not much older than ours, Lord willin’, it’ll be nearly like having twins all over again.”
She blew a kiss to him. “And I s’pose you’ll be quite satisfied if we end up with two little girls, jah?”
Elias leaned over to give her a kiss. “You do have a way of makin’ a man chuckle, love.” He reached down and stroked her hair, still loose from the night. “I best be headin’ back out. But I’ll be in for supper later.”
“Take plenty of cold water along in your thermos,”
she called to him, watching her darling go.
Rosanna planned to spend even more time praying for her preacher-husband, what with the church youth already having begun their study of the Confession of Faith and the New Order
Ordnung
in preparation for baptism. Elias was working alongside Preacher Manny to learn all he could, and right quick, too, as he instructed the young applicants about being in right relationship with the Lord and one another.
Nellie Mae’s joining church,
she thought with a smile, ever so happy about that.
Now, if you’ll just see fit to send her a kind and good husband, dear Lord. . . .
Her father’s horses rhythmically moved their heads from side to side, lowering their noses into the tallest grazing grass in the high meadow. Dat had once told Nellie they did this to watch the insects spread out below them as they moved forward. She wasn’t sure if he’d said that in jest, but she liked the idea all the same.
Nellie watched from her bedroom window as the horses nuzzled one another and then meandered forward, finding their way along, letting first one mare lead . . . then another.