An Uncommon Grace (22 page)

“Twin girls,” Grace said. “What about naming them Rose and Claire?”

“I doubt my aunt will be pleased having a cow named after her.”

“What about your mother?”

“
Maam
will just be happy to have the income from the price they will bring at auction after they are weaned.” He glanced up at the sky. “A storm is coming. I need to get these newborns to the barn. Could one of you help?” He hesitated, looking between Grace and Becky. “It will be a messy job.”

“I’m already dressed in old clothes,” Grace said. “I’ll do it.”

“We will need to hurry.” Levi lifted the smallest one into her arms.

Even though it was a runt, the calf still weighed upward of twenty-five pounds and it was wet and slippery and it smelled a little funky. Grace tried to grab hold of it as she would a large puppy, but it was the most awkward living thing she had ever tried to hold.

“Here,” Levi said, “like this.”

He showed her how to hold the calf by hugging it close to her, its nose over the crook of her left arm, the tail end over the crook of the other, and the long legs dangling in between.

“Squeeze your arms tight around it,” he instructed.

“Got it.” She locked it into her arms by gripping both of her wrists with her hands.

Levi gently lifted the larger one onto his shoulders and then strode off toward his barn with Grace and the mother cow following close behind.

When Grace had volunteered to help Levi get the calf into the barn, she didn’t know that she would be putting her life on the line. They were only halfway across the field when she saw lightning streak through the sky far to the south, followed by the ominous growl of thunder. A strong wind began to blow.

“We should hurry!” Levi shouted.

“No kidding!” Grace stumbled over the freshly plowed ground, carrying twenty-five pounds of calf.

Raindrops suddenly splattered the ground in front of her, and a torrential rain hit the barn just as she stumbled through the door. She sank to the dusty floor, the baby calf cradled in her lap. “That was close.”

“Thank you. It is best if newborn calves do not get chilled.”

“I prefer not to get chilled, too.”

“Calves can get pneumonia. I don’t think little Rose there could have stood a pelting of cold rain—and she would never have made it to the barn on her own.”

“You’re naming the weaker one after your aunt?”

“My aunt’s feelings will not be hurt.” He tossed an old towel to her. “Here. Let me take her while you dry yourself off.”

Grace wiped off the front of her shirt while she watched Levi take both calves into a clean stall and rub them down with
clean straw. Then he allowed the anxious-acting mother cow to come into the stall with him and her calves.

“Watch,” he said as he stood back.

The cow began to lick the smallest one with great thrusts of her rough tongue.

“She certainly wants her babies to be clean,” Grace commented. “Reminds me of my mom when she’d give me an emergency spit-bath with her handkerchief right before we went into church.”

“Cleanliness isn’t the only thing that is happening,” Levi said. “The mother’s tongue helps stimulate her calf’s circulation. Watch.”

Sure enough, in a few moments, little Rose struggled to her feet. Levi steadied her just long enough to begin to feed. She became stronger the longer she nursed. Soon, she was bumping her head against the mother cow’s udder with as much enthusiasm as her stronger sister.

Grace hung over the walls of the stall, watching. “You’re good at this.” She tossed him the towel he had given her.

“I have spent a lifetime working with animals.” He wiped off the back of his neck.

“You care about them?”

“Very much.”

“I’ve heard that some Amish don’t treat their animals well.”

“Really?” He looked up at her from where he knelt beside the calves. “I have heard that some
Englisch
allow their pets to starve.”

“Unfortunately, that is true.”

“Some Amish are kinder to their animals than others, but they are usually cared for, if for no other reason than their financial value.”

He exited the stall and fastened it behind him. The sound
of rain on the tin roof was thunderous. Grace stared up at the ceiling. There was no way she was going to be able to leave right now. Even running to Levi’s house was out of the question. It would be like running through a giant waterfall. She would be soaked to the skin by a cold rain before she could even reach the porch.

And then there was the problem of lightning . . .

If Levi had stopped to think it through, he never would have asked her to help him take the calf to the barn. He should have carried both calves himself somehow—or carried the weaker one and let the stronger one wobble back on its own.

Now he was virtually imprisoned within his own barn with his lovely neighbor while waiting for the rain to stop. If it were only him here, he would simply brave the rain and go to his house, but he couldn’t ask Grace to walk into a deluge.

What was he supposed to do with this
Englisch
woman while he waited? The very woman he had warned that they could not be friends? He had meant it. But somehow, without realizing it, every time he was around her they fell more into a comfortable relationship.

His mother should not have sent him over with that basket of food. Then he would not have seen the cow giving birth in the field. And then he would not have ended up here in this barn with a woman to whom he was not married—and could never be married.

“This is a really big barn.” Grace looked around. “And really clean—as far as barns go.”

“We use it to host church if our turn comes in the summer.”

“And you used it for your stepfather’s funeral.”

“That is why it is still so clean. My people readied it for us.”

Grace didn’t seem bothered by the fact that they were out
here alone. She wandered over to a large wooden box with a hinged lid in which he stored supplies.

“Do you care if I sit down?” she asked. “It looks as if we’re going to be here a while.”

It was the only decent place in the whole barn to sit, and it was more than large enough for the two of them. It would look silly if he continued to stand. He didn’t know what else to do except sit down beside her. If this were a different barn and a different farm, there would be plenty of square bales of hay to sit upon—but not a Swartzentruber barn. Their hay was loose, as God intended, and it filled the loft.

He would take a seat upon the hard wooden surface of the storage box beside Grace. He was certainly used to sitting upon hard surfaces even if she was not. Every piece of furniture in his home was bare wood, too. No upholstery allowed. Swartzentrubers did not lounge around on couches and overstuffed chairs. Their only concession to physical comfort besides the thin mattresses upon their beds was the cushion his mother was allowed to place upon her rocking chair.

“So,” Grace said, “anything you want to talk about while we wait for the rain to stop?”

“There is nothing I want to talk about.”

“You prefer silence? I’m good with that.” She leaned her head back against the stall.

He tried to do the same. Usually being in the barn during a rainstorm gave him a feeling of peace. But not now. Not with Grace sitting only two feet away from him. Every nerve in his body was on high alert.

He did not expect for her to be able to sustain the silence, but she surprised him. She gave a little sigh of contentment and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying doing nothing more than listening to the rain.

It bothered him that she wasn’t saying anything. She was always the one with the questions and the comments. But now that they had all the time in the world to talk, she had decided to go silent on him.

It lasted for a full ten minutes. Still she didn’t speak. Finally he could stand it no longer. The rain showed no signs of letting up. It seemed unnatural to sit beside someone and not say anything. Besides, there was one question that had been burning a hole in his mind ever since he had learned of her.

“What was it like for you in Afghanistan?”

She turned to look at him. “You really want to know?”

He thought about it. “Yes. I want to know.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Well, it was noisy, and hot, and dangerous.” She took a deep breath. “You could never let your guard down—ever. I flew in helicopters that were specially equipped for extracting wounded soldiers out of war zones. Sometimes we got shot at. Sometimes we saved lives. Sometimes we didn’t. Many of the wounded soldiers we took out of there were still just kids. And as I fought to save their lives, I was always aware that somewhere back home there was a mother, or a wife, or a husband, or a grandparent, or a child hoping and praying that their soldier would come home safe and sound.”

“When Elizabeth gets better, will you go back?”

“Probably.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m good at it.”

“But can you not stay here? Elizabeth worries about your safety so far away, and Holmes County needs good nurses, too.”

“I could stay,” she said slowly. “I’ve even been told that there might be a job for me in the ER at Millersburg.”

“Then why would you not want to take that instead?”

There was a long pause. When she spoke, she seemed to be carefully measuring her words. “I think it best that I not stay here much longer.”

He looked into her eyes, and the emotion he saw there saddened him. He knew exactly why she was hesitant to take the job in Millersburg. It would not be wise for the two of them to remain neighbors. He had been dead serious when he told her they could not be friends. Already this
Englisch
woman filled too many of his thoughts.

I
t had been a long, long day. Church days were always long. This one had been their Communion, foot-washing Sunday, and it had been held inside the member’s home farthest from Levi’s farm.

And it had been made especially long because the bishop had taken the opportunity to chastise Levi in front of the entire congregation. Even though he had already confessed his sin the day he had taken Zillah home, Bishop Weaver had felt the need to dredge up that he had kept his books and then had informed the people of his cell phone.

Levi had no choice except to publicly confess his wrongdoings and to promise he would no longer indulge in such forbidden things. No leniency had been given simply because his stepfather had died recently. Death was a part of life, and life had to go on, exactly as it had in years past.

At least his mother had not been there. She was not yet strong enough to endure a three- to four-hour service sitting on a backless wooden bench. But he had been forced to endure the humiliation in front of Albert, Jesse, and Sarah, whom he had taken to church with him.

It had been a long day. In so many ways.

Now it was already getting dark, and he always tried to avoid
being out in the buggy after dark, especially when the children were with him.

“Will we be home soon,
Bruder
?” Jesse asked, fidgeting on the backseat.

All of them were miserable. It had begun to rain, and he had put all the children in the backseat, where they huddled together.

The Swartzentruber sect was not allowed to have windshields on its buggies. Rain, sleet, or snow—they simply endured. Without a windshield, there was little he could do except put the children behind him and try to block the rain with his own body.

“We just turned onto our road. It will not be long now.”

Jesse always had ants in his pants, but Levi had to admit this drive had felt particularly lengthy. He should have left earlier, but too many well-meaning people had felt the need to talk with him privately about the books and phone. It was part of their religion to try to keep one another on the straight path. He did not blame them, but it had made him late leaving.

The evening grew even darker as the horse plodded toward home. Levi wished it were just him in the buggy. Sometimes cars came around these curves too fast, and many times they did not see a plain, black Swartzentruber buggy until it was too late. There were so many accidents, and it seemed like there were more every year.

He had once overheard a law official tell someone that he was “sick of scraping Swartzentrubers off the road.”

It had made his stomach churn to hear such a thing said, as though his people were nothing more than roadkill. And yet he understood the law official’s frustration. He did not understand why his church leaders felt so strongly about not using the reflective triangles on the backs of their buggies, but
there were Swartzentruber leaders who had chosen to go to jail rather than accommodate the law.

And so on this dark night, there was nothing protecting his precious little brothers and sister except the hope that God would be merciful and not allow any fast-driving
Englisch
driver to destroy the buggy and their lives.

“How much farther?” Jesse was tired and hungry. A whine had entered his voice.

“Soon. We are almost to the Connors’ driveway and then . . .”

Before he could finish the sentence, he heard the sound of a car rushing toward them from behind a blind curve. He slapped the horse’s rump with the reins and shouted for it to go faster, hoping to minimize the impact a little by not being quite such a slow-moving target.

He heard the car’s brakes slam on and then the terrible sound of a vehicle skidding on the rain-slicked road behind him. The squeal of the tires drowned out everything else in his world. Even as he shouted at the horse, he braced himself for the impact, wondering if this was going to be his last moment on earth.

The sound of the crash was horrific. It took Levi a moment to realize that they had not been hit. And then he realized that somehow he had managed to get Sarah and her brothers out of the backseat and into the front with him, although he had no memory of doing so. His right arm was protectively around his brothers and Sarah was clinging to his neck.