Almost Eden (14 page)

A
untie Nettie’s straw hat skipped along above the gooseberry bushes almost half a row ahead already. She was singing. Not quietly to herself. She was singing out loud, in German, so everyone in the garden and the farmyard and probably out in the fields and all the way to town yet could hear her.

The firm, striped green berries fell into my pail with a satisfying plop. Picking as fast as I could, there was still no way I could keep up with Auntie Nettie. She finished her side of the row and came around the end to work her way back on my side, still singing.

Beth and Taunte Tina were stripping chokecherries into pails at the other end of the yard. Beth was on a stepladder working up high while Taunte Tina was clearing the lower branches. Taunte Tina was too big to stand on a ladder.

Two rows over, Lena was helping Grandma pick raspberries. Grandma was picking, anyways. Lena was sitting in the dirt trying to feed one of Auntie Nettie’s farm cats. The cat’s face was smeared with squished raspberry.

Grandma and Taunte Tina started singing along.

“
Und alles, alles, alles, war wieder gut.
”

I got some of the last line, something about all was good. The old women laughed like they were little kids and started singing the whole thing all over again. I half-listened, the song and the sun warming me, picking gooseberries. I watched Lena play with the cat and wondered if Tommy was all right and tried not to think too much about Mom because when I did, I could feel the blood start to race through my body and pound in my head.

A robin, chirping like crazy, flew practically in front of my nose and landed on the scarecrow in the middle of the garden. Probably it was mad that we were cleaning out all the ripe berries.

“Don’t look at me,” I muttered to the robin. “I didn’t ask for this job.”

Only I was sort of glad Dad made me go with to pick berries at Auntie Nettie’s this morning. It was nice being out in the sunshine. I started leaving a few ripe berries behind. Robins needed to eat, too, I figured. They had to fly all the way south for the winter, not?

One of the barn cats was slinking through the garden, its eye on the robin. Seeing it stalking that bird made me wonder if Tommy was going hungry, or if he would
remember how to hunt still. No one was giving him shock treatments at least.

Then I stopped picking, because I was remembering something I’d read one time, about how some cats that are taken away from their homes find their way back again, even if home is miles and miles away. They’re just like birds that way, they carry around a compass inside them. Sometimes.

What if Tommy had run away from the farm to go back home? To our alley.
The idea wouldn’t go away. I turned it over and over again in my head, and all the time I felt more and more sure that it was exactly what had happened. We didn’t need to search the whole countryside at all. If Tommy was trying to get home, and if his compass was working right, he’d be somewheres between Hopefield and the farm where Nickel Enns lived. Wherever that was. North of town. I was pretty sure Dad had said something about north of town.

I could sit around waiting for Tommy to find his way home, and maybe he would and maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe a coyote or a fox or an owl or a car or some farmer’s tractor would get him first. Or I could get on my bike and go find him myself, before anything bad happened.

“
Nah meyahl.
Weddings and good haying weather don’t come every day.”

I was thinking so hard to myself I didn’t notice Auntie Nettie come up. A few ripe berries tumbled from her
fingers into the bucket. “We can make
kressberren mouse
enough for a thresher gang, not?”

She lifted her face to the sun. “This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Close by like this, Auntie Nettie smelled like sunshine and sweat and a bit like barn. A few stray hairs had pulled out of the bun at the back of her neck and stuck to her sweaty skin. Below her skirt, I could see the tops of her stockings rolled up and biting into her calves.

“Elsie doesn’t believe in God anymore,” Beth said drily. She was walking by carrying two full pails of choke-cherries into the house.

“
Fuy.
” Grandma frowned at me as she toddled past with her raspberries. “For sure you believe in God. You’ve believed in God all the way since you were just little.”

I knew enough not to argue with Grandma.

She nodded her head toward the chokecherry bushes. “To bring the ladder to the house needs someone with a young back. Hurry yourself up.”

Auntie Nettie took my half full pail of gooseberries from me and waited while I ran to fetch the stepladder.

“Is it right, what Beth says?” She was swaying beside me as I dragged the ladder to the house.

“I guess,” I shrugged. I didn’t really want to talk about it. Not believing in God was too new still to talk about yet. A big idea like that needed some time to try on and see how it fit.

“You guess?
Nay, meyahl
, you don’t guess about God. You know him, here.” She set the berry pails on the grass and put a hand over her heart. “And here.” Her hand swept across the sky and the prairie. “And here.” She bent down to grab a handful of black earth from the garden and held it to her nose, breathing deep before letting it sprinkle back to the ground.

“And here.” Auntie Nettie wrapped both arms around me, squeezing tight for a long time. When she let go she held my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Or you don’t.”

I’d never heard anyone talk like that before about God, like He was part of everything. Not up in heaven looking down watching you all the time, but just–here.

Auntie Nettie’s eyes twinkled. “You are too much thinking all the time. Come eat.”

In no time the kitchen table was piled with plates of farmer sausage and bowls of
varenika
swimming in
schmauntfat.
There was cole slaw and fresh garden peas with baby carrots and homemade buns to fill in the gaps. And a fresh-baked saskatoon berry pie sitting on the counter making my mouth water with how good it smelled.

“Who will say the blessing?” asked Grandma Redekop.

Everyone folded their hands and bowed their heads. Everyone except me. While Uncle Abe said grace, I stared hard at my plate. At least he said a short one.

“Come Lord Jesus be our guest, and let this food to us be blest. Amen.”

Grandma must not have had her eyes closed either, because when Uncle Abe finished she wanted him to say it again. “I think not everybody was ready.” She was frowning so hard at me her eyebrows almost touched in the middle, just like Lena’s.

Only Uncle Abe was already spearing sausages onto his plate. “The Lord knows we’re all grateful,
Mutta
”

Lena was watching Uncle Abe reach for the bowl of vegetables. He winked at her. The corners of her mouth twitched. She already knew what was coming next, same as me.

“You know,” said Uncle Abe, “the cook who cooks carrots and peas in the same pot–”

“Is an unsanitary cook!” Lena shouted out the punch line, giggling. Everyone else groaned or shook their heads and ignored them.

Auntie Nettie slapped Uncle Abe on the shoulder. “All the time with that terrible joke. When will you be tired of it already?”

He pulled her toward him, wrapping both arms around her. “I’m not tired of you yet, am I?”

“
Ach, du hundt
” Auntie Nettie squirmed out of his arms.

Usually I liked watching everyone kibitzing and having themselves a good time. Only today it didn’t feel right
that we could have such a good time without Mom. Not when she was having such a miserable time.

I filled my plate with
varenika
and vegetables. When the plate of farmer sausages got to me I took some of those, too. Far as I was concerned, all deals with God were off. If there was a God even.

What would Mom say when she came home and found out Tommy was gone? She’d be awful sad. Heartbroken even. What if she was so sad she ended up going back to Eden and they gave her more of those shock treatments?

I couldn’t let that happen.

Dad wasn’t going to do anything to get Tommy back. Beth didn’t care one iota about him. Lena was still too small yet. And I sure couldn’t count on God. So it was up to me. Besides which, it was mostly my fault Tommy was lost. Just like it was mostly my fault Mom was even in that place. Right now finding Tommy was the best way I could think of to make one thing right again at least.

Incredible Journey.
That was the name of the book where I’d read about the cat and the two dogs finding their way home. Now I remembered. But I couldn’t remember for sure if it was one of the dogs who was the leader, or if it was the cat.

Beth jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow. “What happened to being a vegetarian?” She nodded at the sausage on my plate.

It was hard to ignore the smug look on her face, but I had more important things to think about than arguing with Beth.

“I gave it up,” I said. “You were right. It was dumb.”

That shut her up. She wasn’t expecting me to say she was right about something.

It wasn’t like I was completely stupid. I knew the chances of finding Tommy were slim and none. That didn’t make a diff. I had to try.

For once I wasn’t going to be such a chicken. For once I wasn’t going to just think about what I wanted to do, I was going do it.

When everyone was busy yakking in Plautdietsch and laughing all over themselves, I leaned toward my uncle. “Uncle Abe?” I asked. “Do you know where Nickel Enns lives?”

Anyways, like Auntie Nettie said already, weddings and good haying weather don’t come every day.

D
ad came downstairs Sunday morning in slacks and a freshly pressed shirt yet, too. “I thought I’d go with to church. I’ll even take my girls out to the Harvester for dinner after.”

He didn’t fool me. He was only going to church because of what I’d said about not believing in God. Like he was going to be a good example or something. As if. All my plans were about to fly out the window if Dad made me go to church.

“I told you already, I’m not going,” I said.

Dad threw up his hands. “Have it your way. I’m tired of fighting with you. But if you’re not going to church you’re not going out to eat with us either.”

“No problem.” It never bothered me to get left behind. It would even be a good thing.

“Do you want some eggs or not?” Beth scowled at me as she hovered over my plate with the frying pan.

“Not. I’ll have cereal.” I was all out of kilter this morning. My nerves were on end waiting for everyone to leave so I could put my plan into action.

“Mom asked about you last night,” Beth nattered on. “Haven’t you been to see her?”

“I was there Thursday.” I wasn’t going back to that place. Not ever.

“You can stop by this afternoon then.”

“I’m going swimming this afternoon,” I lied. “Anyways, there are too many people there on Sundays.” I figured when everyone got back from dinner and found out I wasn’t home, they’d think I was at the pool. I had until
faspa
later this afternoon before anyone would realize I was gone. Hopefully I’d be back by then.

Beth shook her head. “You can’t spare an hour to visit your own mother?”

“Go jump in a lake.”

“Five minutes,” said Dad, talking through clenched teeth. “Can’t you two quit squabbling for five minutes?”

I shut my mouth, only because I didn’t want to say anything that would keep them home a minute longer than necessary.

As soon as they left, I filled an empty plastic milk jug with water and stuffed it into my pack with a couple of sandwiches, an apple, and some cookies. What else did
I need? I put on a floppy hat, the one Mom used for gardening. Already I could tell today was going to be another scorcher.

Lastly, I rinsed out Tommy’s dish and filled it with fresh milk, just in case he maybe came back on his own while I was gone.

I didn’t have to worry about Grandma Redekop looking out her window. All the old folks were at church like most everyone else. It was a clean getaway.

Singing–a German hymn–leaked out of the MB church as I pedaled by It made me feel small and alone, to be out here when everyone else was in there. Jillian might have come with if I’d asked her. I’d almost called her last night. Only she hadn’t called me once since going away with Sadie.

I pedaled a bit farther past the church and left the singing behind.

Ten minutes later, I was at the highway north of town. The traffic was pretty steady here because it was the main highway to Winnipeg and Steinbach and the Pembina Hills and the States even–pretty much anywhere a person wanted to go. I had to wait a long time to cross.

Then I had to decide whether to follow the highway west for a bit, or head straight north. West would take me to the Three-mile Corner, and from there another highway went north to the Bible camp. Uncle Abe had said Nickel Enns lived north and west of town past the Bible camp. If I was right, Tommy could be wandering anywhere
between here and there. I couldn’t very well ride my bike cross-country, except for some places where there were farmer roads between the fields. But I could follow the gravel section roads, up one mile, one mile over, up a mile, over a mile, until either I found Tommy or else it was time to head home.

Who knows? Maybe I’d get lucky, I kept telling myself. Only even while I was telling myself, my heart was sliding into my running shoes. I knew this whole idea was pretty lame, but I didn’t give a care. Besides which, I didn’t have any other ideas, good or bad.

I decided to head north on the gravel road, because there wasn’t much traffic, and anyways, Tommy wasn’t going to follow the highways.

Almost right away trouble caught up to me. I’d hardly got started, when I heard someone shouting my name. I looked behind me and nearly wiped out.

There was Lena, pedaling like crazy toward the highway, waving and yelling at me. “Elsie! Wait up once!”

Holy Moses. I turned around and raced back, shouting, “Stay there!”

Of course the
dummkopp
never listened.

“I want to go with!” She started across the highway, not stopping even to check if there was any traffic. Like the semi headed toward town at fall speed was invisible.

“
LOOK OUT!
” I screamed. My heart practically leaped across the road to tackle her. The semi’s horn blasted. Lena plowed on the brakes and the semi roared by,
belting me with hot wind and bits of gravel that stung my bare arms and legs. I turned my head, closing my eyes.

Then the truck was gone, and when I looked again there was Lena standing on the other side, still in one piece even if she had gone white as a sheet. Holy Moses.

If I didn’t do something quick my little sister was going to get smucked like a gopher. “Don’t move until I tell you!” I yelled across the road. Soon there was a break in traffic and then Lena was safe and sound beside me.

Now what was I supposed to do? Either I dragged her along or I had to give up before I even got started. So it goes always.

You bet she knew it, too. “I’ll go by myself if you don’t let me come with. I want to look for Tommy too.”

“How did you know I was going to look for Tommy?”

“I’m not stupid. You were wearing running shoes this morning.” Lena’s eyes flashed with triumph. “You never wear shoes in summer if you don’t have to.”

We both looked at the clunky high-tops on Lena’s feet. She was wearing my beat-up old runners instead of the white buckle sandals she usually wore to church with her little blue sundress.
Uy uy uy.

“My runners are too small,” she said.

That little
bay del
had only pretended to go to Sunday School. Instead she’d snuck through the church basement and out the back door that we use for choir practice. Then she ran home and followed me. She had more guts than I did, that was for sure. Only thing was, now
Dad and Beth would know something was up right away when Sunday School was over already.

I tried not to think about how much trouble we were going to be in when we got home.

“It’s your funeral if you get sunburned.” I took off my hat and plopped it on her head. “You wear that, and you do what I tell you. Got it?”

“Got it,” she grinned.

The going was slower than I’d thought it would be. Partly because of Lena, but also partly because it was hard to pedal through the loose gravel. Even when we tried to stick to the hard-packed places we still had to ride close enough to the ditch to check if there was any sign of Tommy.

Every once in a while someone would drive by, and then I’d herd Lena over to the side of the road until the clouds of dust kicked up by the car or truck settled down again. At least the day wasn’t scorching, not yet anyways. It was sunny, but there were a few clouds to cool things off once in a while. As long as we kept pedaling the breeze felt cool.

Except for when a car passed, it was kind of nice being out there on the country roads. The fields of grain and rapeseed smelled good–earthy and sun ripe and just a bit sweet mixed all up with the perfume of fresh cut alfalfa and wildflowers growing in the ditches.

Meadowlarks sitting on fence posts sang out all happy and bright. Every so often Lena would call out Tommy’s name. But except for Lena and the birds, pretty much the only sounds were the crunch of our bike tires on the road and the click-whir of grasshoppers jumping out of our way.

One time we rode up the crest of a hill and we both stopped. Flowing out from the sides of the road ahead was a blue, blue ocean of flax. The breeze made the flax move like waves, lapping at the road. Riding between the fields felt almost like we were with Moses, walking through the Red Sea, on our way to the promised land.

We turned west at the first section road, and then north again at the next.

“Lookit,” Lena pointed. A little ways ahead a hawk was hovering over the summer fallow. All of a sudden it dropped to the ground, feet first. It lifted off again with a mouse in its claws.

Then we pedaled past a porcupine waddling along the side of the road. When we got too close it disappeared, slipping into the tall grass in the ditch. I knew it was there but I couldn’t see it. Spotting Tommy in that grass was pretty much hopeless. The only reason I kept going was pure stubbornness. I wasn’t going to give up, at least not without trying. We had to find Tommy, that’s all there was to it. I couldn’t stand to think of the look on Mom’s face if she came home and he wasn’t there.

And then I heard a truck coming up behind, so I told
Lena to move over to the side again. The truck was going pretty slow when it passed, and crowding so close that we both hit the ditch. Even after it went by and we pushed our bikes back on the road again the truck was driving still slower yet, staying a little ways ahead of us.

That truck gave me the creeps. It looked familiar but I couldn’t think why. “Let’s stop for a minute,” I said.

“I’m thirsty.” Lena licked her dry lips. Even with Mom’s hat on, her face was getting red.

I dug out my water, all the time watching the truck. But then it sped up again when another car passed, so that was all right, and it was just my imagination running away on me.

Lena was guzzling so much water I had to snatch it away from her. I swallowed a few mouthfuls. The jug was half empty already. But I wasn’t too worried. We could stop at a farmhouse and fill it up again.

“Did you bring something to eat, too?” Lena said hopefully.

“What do you think? We’ll find a shady spot and have lunch.” I could see Lena was starting to get sunburned on her arms already. My nose was probably red as a beet. That
gurknaze
was always the first thing to get burned. We needed to get out of the sun for a while. Probably we’d have to head back home after that.

We turned west again at the next crossroads. It was almost noon I guessed, and plenty hot enough now. The sun was burning my arms and the back of my neck. We’d
seen a couple of cats already, but no sign of Tommy. Up ahead I could see some bush, which meant there was maybe a creek, too. I was thinking that might be a good spot to rest a bit.

To get to the bush we first had to ride by a row of big trees in front of a farmyard. Just when we were almost by already, a huge dog came darting out of the trees, barking its fool head off.

“
ELSIEEE?!
” Lena shrieked. Like I was supposed to know what to do.

“Get going! Quick! It’ll stop at the end of the yard.” At least that’s what I was hoping for. We were pedaling like crazy, trying to outrace that dog. Ahead of me Lena was still shrieking, and behind me the dog was running alongside, barking at my heels. Past the farmyard we rode over a small rise and then we were going still faster yet, pedaling downhill. The dog slowed down a bit so we were gaining ground at least.

Then Lena’s front wheel hit a patch of loose gravel, and just like that, down she went. Total wipe out, right into the ditch.

She lay there, screaming like all get out. I skidded to a stop in the gravel and ran over, thinking it was a good thing that she was crying. At least she wasn’t knocked out or anything. But her bike was lying on top of her and before I could haul it off I had to untangle her foot from between the bars. She didn’t bawl any harder and she could sit up all right and move everything, so I was pretty
sure nothing was broken. But she had a doozy of a scrape up one side of her leg. Her elbow and shoulder were smucked up pretty bad, too, and her sundress was filthy, with a long rip in the skirt.

Good thing she’d fallen into the ditch and not onto the road. Someone had a guardian angel close by.

I used the rest of our water to wet the bottom of my T-shirt and clean her off as good as I could. Soon she started to calm down. Her crying turned into hiccups and sniffles.