Love’s Journey Home (3 page)

Drunk. Drinking and driving. An Englisch act. Plain folks didn’t imbibe. Not those
who followed the Ordnung. Gabriel had hoped for a strong, faithful community where
he could raise the children and guide them with the help of that community. Instead
this. The packing, the leaving of everything and everyone familiar. The endless drive
across the Midwest. All of it had been for nothing.

“That can’t be.” Helen brushed past Gabriel and stood toe-to-toe with the officer.
“Edmond wouldn’t do that.”

“We caught him, ma’am.” The officer made a
hmmph
sound that was halfway between a cough and snort. “He was out there with a bunch
of kids from the high school, out behind the Pizza Parlor where the trash bins are.
When we pulled up, Edmond had the bottle in one hand and a red plastic cup in the
other. Red plastic cup, ma’am. You know what that means.”

Helen’s face turned from white to red again. “You arrested him for having a red cup?”

“They use them at keggers and the like. You see a red cup, you’re seeing alcohol,
ma’am.”

A kegger. The officer spoke a language Gabriel recognized from having worked in the
Englisch world, but it was obvious Helen didn’t comprehend. She glanced sideways at
Gabriel, her round cheeks flaming. “Did you see him drink from the cup?”

“He threw it down. The bottle too. Then they scattered in all directions. Your son
took off running to the buggy. We yelled for him to stop. He didn’t.”

“Likely you scared him,” Thomas said. “We don’t deal much with law enforcement, as
you know.”

“Helen.” Emma touched her friend’s arm. “You must go to him.”

A look passed between Emma and Thomas. Thomas doffed his hat at Gabriel and without
another word, motioned for Helen to follow him.

Gabriel shook his head. “I thought Dahlburg’s community had fallen into sinful ways,
but I don’t know of any of the young men in that community being charged with something
like this.”

Emma didn’t answer. Her gaze followed her husband’s back until he disappeared into
the crowd. She seemed thoughtful.

“What’s going on?” Gabriel asked, curious at the mix of emotions on her face. “Has
this happened before?”

“Not with Edmond. He’s a good boy who’s a little out of hand.” Emma turned to him.
“Has Thomas not told you of my brother Josiah’s misadventures during his rumspringa?”

Not likely. Thomas didn’t do much storytelling, unless it was for the children’s pleasure.
“Nee.”

Emma glanced at the children sprawled on the quilt. They were already getting to know
the flock brought by Emma’s brother and sister-in-law, Leah, a dour-looking woman
who frowned at them and continued to berate her children for something. Gabriel had
missed what they’d done.

“The parade’s started. Finally.” Emma sank into a plastic folding lawn chair next
to the quilt—a concession to the fact that she could no longer sit on the ground,
given her girth—and motioned for him to do the same in the chair next to her. He sat
while Caleb clamored into what remained of his mudder’s lap.

“Josiah ran away to Wichita, got drunk, asked a New Order Mennonite girl to marry
him, and then jumped off or fell off—we’re not sure which—a second-story balcony when
she said no.” Emma’s expression and tone didn’t change. Gabriel realized she didn’t
want the child on her lap to know of the seriousness of her words. “We almost lost
him only a few months after my parents passed.”

Gabriel had met Josiah the previous day. A broad-shouldered, burly man. Married—by
the looks of him happily so—and a father of one child with another on the way. He
was a hardworking blacksmith with big callused hands and an almost constant grin.

“How long has Edmond’s father been gone?”

“You mean how long has Helen been a widow?”

“Jah.”

“Seven years.”

A man in the house would’ve had a handle on the discipline. A second thought chased
the first: seven years of the kind of loneliness he had experienced for the last three.
He never expected to be lonely with eight children in the house, but lonely he had
been. Continued to be. Each night when he went to bed alone and each morning when
he arose to face another day without Laura. He didn’t wish that on anyone.

“Seven years is a long time. Why didn’t she remarry?”

“You said it yourself. Everyone comes through that darkness on their own time.” Emma
fanned herself with a handkerchief and then used it to pat the sweat from her shiny
cheeks. “There have been a few who’ve tried to court her, but it seems she hasn’t
found the right person.”

“Maybe it’s because she’s so
doplich
.”

“She’s clumsy because people—men like you—make her nervous.”

“Not a sign that she would make a good fraa.”

“She was a good fraa.”

“Spoken like a true
freind
.”

“I didn’t know her very well then.” Emma leaned forward, her gaze on the parade route.
“I know her now. She is a simple, kind woman who works hard and prays hard. You’ll
like her.”

“Again, you are a good friend.” Her meaning sank in after a few seconds. He squirmed
in his chair. “You…I…nee…I…her skills as a mother…”

“You’ve only met her once.”

“I have eight kinner, one of whom will need special attention for a lifetime. If I
were to marry again, I would need a fraa who can handle that.”

“Are you looking for a fraa or a caregiver?” Emma’s smile took the sting from the
words. “My Aenti Louise says love overcomes many things. Only God knows why and in
time, He reveals His plan. Until then, it’s best to enjoy the good moments, like a
parade, and leave the rest to Him.”

Gabriel knew her words were true. Hard as he found it to understand why God would
take his wife from him so soon after the birth of their eighth child, there had to
be a reason for it. She’d mentioned a headache in the afternoon. By evening, she’d
been gone from a blood clot in her brain. The shock of her sudden passing still took
his breath away when he awoke in the morning, slowly coming to consciousness. Groggy.
Drowsy. Then wide awake and the pain of it sucking the air from his lungs. What greater
purpose did this turn of events serve? Not that it was his place to ask that question.
Forgive me
.

A fat drop of rain smacked Gabriel on the nose as if to punctuate the prayer. He glanced
up at the sky. The clouds seethed overhead, black and heavy. As much as the region
needed rain, Gabriel prayed it would hold off.
Just a few more days, God. A few more days until the wheat is in. Thomas needs that.
The whole district needs it
. “We may not have the parade after all.”

“As much as we need rain, the timing couldn’t be worse.” Emma gave voice to Gabriel’s
thoughts. “Thomas has worked so hard. All the men have.”

“Nothing can be done about it.”

“I know God will provide even if we lose the harvest.” Her steady voice told him she
truly meant those words. Thomas had married a stout believer. “But it hurts my heart
to see him work so hard to provide for us only to have the fruits of his labor wash
away in a rain that we truly need. God’s timing…well, it’s God’s timing, I guess.”

She held up both hands, palms up as if to ask a question she dare not put into words.
Gabriel had no answer. Caleb mimicked her moves and giggled when raindrops splashed
in his chubby hands. Emma smiled and Gabriel joined her. Some questions didn’t have
answers.

Like why he’d moved to this community to escape the world that invaded his old district
only to find it overtaking the new one. Had he been wrong to uproot his family? Would
he have to do it again?

F
inally.

Blessed silence.

With one last gentle pat on the baby’s back, Annie eased away from the crib. She gazed
at his flushed cheek, wet with tears, and inhaled the sweet scent of baby. She saw
David in the curve of Noah’s face and the tip of his upturned nose. In the thatch
of dark, fine hair that covered his head and fanned out on his chubby neck.

Thank You, God, for blessing me with Noah
.

Annie said this prayer every night standing in this exact spot.

Every night, she also went through this bedtime routine. Little Noah didn’t want to
sleep. He fought it with every ounce of being in his tiny fourteen-month-old body.
Like his daed, he wouldn’t give up. Not until his body gave out.

In the late afternoon, when Annie came home from the bakery, Noah played, he laughed,
he ate with such gusto he made her smile and laugh too, even as tired as she always
was. Every night she carried him to his crib, thinking he had to be tuckered out,
ready to sleep. Instead, the same tug-of-war ensued. Crying, wailing, kicking, wiggling,
and screaming, he managed to prolong the evening ritual well past the point in which
she had the patience to deal with it. How could it be that the moment Leah’s little
Jeb hit the crib, his eyes slid shut, and a second later he slept? It didn’t seem
fair.

Not that anything about life could be called fair. Far from it. With a soft touch,
she turned the knob on the floor pole lantern and it ceased to glow. Then she stepped
back, her bare feet noiseless on the piecemeal rug that covered the wooden floor between
the crib, Noah’s cousins’ bed, and baby Jebediah’s crib. They were crammed together,
but the bedrooms were stuffed to the brim since Annie and Noah moved back into her
childhood home. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on this. She and David had agreed.
Their house would be sold to another young couple in need of a place to start a family.
Margaret and John Miller had a baby on the way.

She eased through the doorway. With infinite care, she inched the door toward its
frame until it closed. Sighing a sigh so gusty it lifted her prayer
kapp
strings, she leaned against the solid wood of the door and closed her eyes. They
burned with fatigue and tears she refused to let fall. The rain beat on the roof overhead,
an unfamiliar sound after months of drought. Months without rain and now on the eve
of the wheat harvest, it came down in a deluge that assured her that no one would
be getting into the fields anytime soon.

She leaned her head down and prayed with a ferocity that surprised even her.
Danki for bringing me through this day. Give me the strength I’ll need tomorrow. Give
Luke and Thomas and all the men the strength they will need to do what must be done
in the days ahead. Show us the path You would have us take
.

She opened her eyes and rested for a beat longer against the door. She’d made it through
another day. Just as she would tomorrow. She would put one foot in front of the other.
Day by day.

Taking a deep breath, she started down the hallway. Luke and Leah and the kinner must
be getting drenched at the Fourth of July celebration. Knowing Luke, he’d remembered
to stack tarps in the back of the wagon to cover the children on the ride home.

A banging sound pierced the quiet.
Rap, rap, rap
. Someone was knocking on the door, the sound loud against the patter of the rain.

“Nee, nee!
Ach!
”

Annie flew down the stairs and hustled to the front door. Who would knock at this
hour? Family would come in. She jerked the door open. “I just got the baby—”

A woman dressed in a white blouse tucked into a dark blue skirt stood on the porch,
a brown leather bag clutched in one hand, a dripping umbrella dangling from the other.
Her blonde hair was braided in a plait that hung below her shoulders, and her hazel
eyes were just like Annie’s.

“Annie!” The woman’s lips turned up in a tremulous smile that belied the tears in
her eyes. “
Ach
, Annie. It’s so good to see you,
schweschder
.”

“Catherine?” It couldn’t be. After four years. It couldn’t be. “Is that you?”

“It’s me.” Her expression hesitant, Catherine took a half step forward. “I know I
can’t come in, but I thought maybe you would come out.”

Without thought, Annie hurled herself at her sister and enveloped her in a hug. She
smelled like flowers. Lilacs. “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re here!”

“I’m here.” Catherine dropped the bag and the umbrella. Her arms came up and returned
the hug in a quick, hard embrace. Then she extricated herself from Annie’s grip and
took a step back. “I’m visiting.”

“After four years? You’re visiting?” Annie looked beyond Catherine and saw a mud-splattered
dark blue car sitting in the gravel driveway. “You drove here in that? From where?
Where have you been? Why are you back? Are you staying in Bliss Creek?”

Catherine laughed, the sound soft, and held up her hand. “Hold on, schweschder. I’ll
tell all. First, how are you? How’s the baby, little Noah? I’m sorry I didn’t come
sooner, when I learned of your loss. Of David’s death.”

Darkness crept in. Annie pushed it back. She’d promised David to move on quickly.
Not to dwell. To accept God’s will for her life, as well as his. “Thank you, but there
was no need for you to come. I’m fine. The
bobbeli
is fine.” She cocked her head, puzzled. “How did you know? About Noah and about David?”