Abigail's New Hope (15 page)

What goes on in this loathsome place that has so affected my wife?

C
atherine had mulled over the recluse last night while waiting for sleep to come, as she had each evening since seeing his tidy cabin in the woods. During the last couple of days she had set out his meals as she’d been instructed. Yet, despite her attempts to get a look at him, the man evaded observance. She had been in the cellar washing clothes, breaking up a dispute between siblings, or cleaning up after dinner when he claimed his meal. Now, as the sun rose over dew-kissed fields and purple-hued hills, Isaiah Graber again occupied her thoughts. She washed and dressed quickly because Daniel liked his breakfast early, and then she checked on Laura and Jake in each of their small bedrooms. Laura’s faceless doll had fallen to the floor and the sheet had tangled around her legs. Jake’s nightshirt was sodden with perspiration because she’d forgotten to open the window in his room. Yet both slept the deep slumber of those who knew no worries in life.

She pulled Jake’s thumb from his mouth and pushed damp hair back from his brow. He barely stirred in his dreams. She paused to utter a silent prayer to be shown the correct course in her sister’s home, a way to serve without her own will getting in the way. Once the matter of her adjustment was turned over to God, she headed downstairs with a lighter heart.

In the kitchen she found that Daniel had already started coffee. Another note—the fourth since her arrival—waited for her on the table:

Gone out to milk cows. Be back around six thirty for breakfast. Get kinner up around that time. Don’t let them sleep in so late.

Catherine poured a cup of coffee and then began frying a pound of bacon and chopping peppers, onions, and tomatoes for the eggs. She mixed orange juice; peeled, diced, and boiled potatoes for hash browns; and toasted half a loaf of the whole wheat bread she’d baked yesterday. By the time she heard the screen door slam, signaling Daniel’s arrival, cheese was melting over the omelet while crisp bacon drained on paper towels. Catherine dumped the seasoned potatoes into a sizzling skillet.

Daniel shrugged out of his chore coat and toed off his boots in the back hall. “Something smells good,” he said, entering the kitchen.

She buttered another slice of toast, adding it the stack already on the table. “Laura, please get your
bruder
from the front room. It’s time to eat.” She turned to Daniel. “I got them up twenty minutes ago.”

Daniel poured himself coffee and topped off her mug. “Those two would sleep till noon if you’d let them,” he said. His eyes widened as she set the platter of bacon and bowl of eggs on the table and nearly bugged from his head when she carried over the hash browns. “Good grief, Catherine. This is a lot of food for an ordinary Wednesday,” he said. “Bacon and eggs
or
toast and oatmeal will suffice in the future.”

“Good to know,” she murmured as they bowed their heads in prayer.

Once the Graber family began eating, Catherine surreptitiously glanced out the window to the back porch. “It looks like rain. Do you think we should invite Isaiah inside for breakfast? We don’t want him or his food getting wet.” She concentrated on pouring milk for the youngsters.

“Nice of you to worry, but that porch has a roof. His food will stay perfectly dry until he comes up to eat.” He scooped a hearty portion of fried potatoes. “I don’t think Abigail has ever made spuds like these. They’re very good,” he said after sampling a forkful. He preferred his eggs without all the peppers, onions, and who-knew-what-else, but he remembered Abby’s request for patience and kindness toward her sister. He took five strips of bacon, just to be polite.

“
Danki
. A little bacon grease adds plenty of flavor.” She ate almost twice her usual amount just to keep herself from asking questions about Daniel’s shy cousin. Laura ate some eggs but spent most of her time pushing onion and peppers to the side of her plate. Jake played with his bacon strips, trying to stand them on end.

“Jake usually eats corn flakes, Aunt Catherine,” said Laura. “Is it all right if I pour him a bowl?” She looked from one adult to the other. Catherine also glanced at Daniel, uncertain of the correct reply.

“
Jah
, go ahead,” Daniel said to his daughter. Then to his son he said, “Stop playing and eat your bacon, Jake. You always eat
mamm
’s. And drink your milk and juice.” He returned to his own breakfast as though competing in a race. “If you should need me today, I’ll be out in the east fields spreading manure.”

She knew what manure-spreading days smelled like, so barring an emergency she planned to stay indoors with the east-facing windows closed. “I’ll catch up on laundry in the morning and save ironing for the afternoon. By three o’clock a breeze usually picks up from the south, cooling off the front room. Let me fill your thermos with coffee.” She rose from the table as he walked into the hallway.

“Put a couple extra sandwiches in Isaiah’s cooler for my lunch too. That’ll save me from coming to the house and interrupting my work.”

Catherine followed him to the door, carrying the thermos. “I’ll put plenty in the cooler bag.” She watched him pull on boots and grab his hat.

“Before I forget, your sister sends her regards and thanks you for filling in for her. She will write another letter soon.”

Her chest tightened around her heart until it became painful to breathe. “Does she look well?”

“Like I told you last night, she looks as well as can be expected.” He opened the door and peered up. “There’s barely a cloud in the sky. I think you’re mistaken about your forecast of rain.” He reached for his thermos and hurried down the steps.

Actually, he’d told her little since his return from visiting Abby in Wooster. He’d rambled on about the charges being more serious than they had thought, and that he needed to talk to her father after Sunday’s preaching service—updates about the unfortunate circumstances, but not much about her beloved sister. Yet Catherine knew Daniel missed his wife terribly. Several times his eyes had filled with tears while relaying the details of his trip.

Catherine loaded a plate with eggs, potatoes, and several pieces of bacon, and then she topped the mound with four slices of buttered toast. She balanced the breakfast on her forearm so she could carry mugs of coffee and juice to the porch too. But her mind was on Abby. How she must suffer away from her family, surrounded by dangerous
Englischers
. As Catherine pushed open the screen door with her backside, she hadn’t expected to find Isaiah at the table, waiting with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other. She nearly dropped his plate of food.

For several moments they merely stared at each other. Time suspended as she took in his unusual appearance—long, straight hair combed back from his face without the customary bangs, a tanned complexion with nearly black eyes, and large muscular arms and hands. Because Amish men wear wide-brimmed hat and long sleeves, they seldom became tanned. However, both of Isaiah’s shirtsleeves had been torn off above the elbow. She gasped, even though she had seen men’s arms before.

He gasped too, several times. Then she realized he wasn’t gasping but speaking to her. “
Guder mariye
,” she greeted.

He voiced a similar pattern of sounds.

She repeated again the
Deutsch
words for “good morning.”

He grinned and issued the same strange, guttural sounds.

Catherine realized he was trying to mimic her words. She set his breakfast on the table and pulled off the plastic wrap. “Eggs,” she said, indicating the appropriate food on the plate. She chose the easier-to-say English word and exaggerated its pronunciation with lips and facial contortion.

“Agggs,” he repeated and speared a forkful to eat.

She nodded, smiling enthusiastically. “Bay-conn.” She pointed to the food and repeated the English word several times.

Isaiah tried to emulate her pronunciation with little success. It seemed as though his lips couldn’t form the correct position. She tried just the first syllable, shaping and then relaxing her mouth. Each time she would point at her lips while saying the syllable. She felt like a fish in an aquarium trying to gulp a large amount of algae.

He watched her curiously. Then he picked up a slice of bacon and shoved it into his mouth. Catherine slipped onto the other bench and allowed him to eat while the food remained warm. As he forked up some hashed browns, she said “poe-tay-toes” with slow, deliberate enunciation.

He swallowed his food, drank some coffee, and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Pah-tah-tohs,” he parroted. This time when he repeated her word, the approximation was very close to the correct sounds.

Catherine pointed at the other items on the table—knife, fork, plate, mug, and lantern. But Isaiah had tired of her game and ate his breakfast without watching her distorted expressions. From time to time he looked up and smacked his lips and rubbed his belly.

She accepted the gestures as high compliment. “
Gut
?” she asked.

“
Gut
,” he agreed.

When he smiled, thin lines webbed his eyes, probably from not wearing his hat in the hot sun. She judged his age to be between twenty and twenty-five years old. Catherine pointed to the center of his chest. “Eye-zay-ahh,” she enunciated.

“Eyes-zah,” he repeated.

She attempted to stretch his name into three syllables without success. He grew restless and hooked a thumb to his chest. “Eyes-zah,” he said firmly, leaving no room for discussion.

She changed the conversation to her own name. “Cath-ther-inn,” she said, pointing at herself. She repeated the name three times. He studied her and then shrugged his shoulders. “Cat,” he said, as though anything longer wasn’t worth the effort. He finished the mug of juice in two long swallows.

She threw her head back and laughed. “Close enough. That’s what my brothers call me anyway.”

While Isaiah ate, a crow in the apple tree by the steps cawed loud enough for Catherine to jump. But Isaiah didn’t move a muscle with the unexpected noise.

Because he didn’t hear a thing
, she thought. If her intuition was correct, Daniel’s cousin was stone deaf. To test her theory, she blocked her mouth with her hands and began reciting the breakfast foods on the top of her lungs. The young man didn’t glance up from his meal. However, her bizarre behavior did not go unnoticed.

“What are you doing out here?” Daniel asked. He walked onto the porch, letting the screen door slam behind him.

“I thought you went to the barn,” she said without thinking.

“I came looking for Isaiah. I need his help.”

Isaiah sipped his coffee, looking from one to the other with mild interest.

“Oh, Daniel. I’ve discovered he’s deaf.” Catherine turned her face to whisper, not wishing to be rude to the young man.

Daniel crossed his arms over a soiled jacket. “That’s not much of a discovery. His
mamm
figured that out years ago.”

“But don’t you see? I can teach him. With my past experience as a nanny, I can help him.” Excitement swelled inside her as possibilities flooded her mind.

“Help him do what, Catherine? He will till between the soybean rows today, and later he’ll help me plant a late crop of corn. He doesn’t need help with his chores. He already knows what to do. But if he decides to become a bank teller in Wooster, I’ll let you know.”

Catherine chewed on her lip to keep from responding to Daniel’s sarcasm.

“Isaiah.” Daniel touched his shoulder because a squirrel in the bird feeder had diverted his attention. “Hurry up and finish eating.” Daniel made a chopping motion with one hand against his forearm.