A Widow's Hope (10 page)

Emma’s loyalty to her
mamm
warmed Hannah’s heart. “I can’t wait until the next baking day,” she said. She glanced around to make sure no other
kinner
were close by and then whispered, “Does Phoebe ever speak? I mean when she’s with people she knows well?”

Emma looked up from the cucumber she was peeling. Julia cocked her head as they heard giggling from the girls on the steps. She waited until Leah and Phoebe ran outdoors, letting the screen door slam behind them. “
Jah,
she speaks,” Julia said. “At least she used to when Constance was alive. She learned to talk early and hardly ever stopped to take a breath. But when she lost her
mamm,
she stopped.” Julia slipped the roasting pan back into the oven for a final browning.

Hannah checked that the girls were still headed toward the swing as she took glasses from the cupboard above the sink. Then she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Isn’t Seth worried? Hasn’t he taken the child to see a doctor about this?”

Julia slanted a look at her daughter. “Emma, why don’t you get a quart of green beans from the cellar?”

“
Mutter,
I’m fourteen years old—not a baby anymore.”

Julia didn’t say a word. The arch of her eyebrow proved sufficient.

Emma set down the paring knife and headed for the basement steps. “Okay, I’m going.”

Julia waited a minute before continuing. “The doctor in Walnut Creek said there’s nothing to worry about—that she’ll start talking
again when she’s ready.” Her tone indicted she didn’t agree with his assessment.

Hannah swept potato peels into the bucket headed for the compost pile. “And what do you think?”

Julia didn’t ponder her answer. “I think he should take her to a specialist in children’s grief before her condition becomes permanent.” Then she added in a softer voice, “But I am alone in that opinion.” Julia took up Emma’s peeling but soon stopped as her face blanched with pain.

Hannah pulled the peeler and cucumber from Julia. “For what it’s worth, you’re not alone anymore.” She clasped her sister’s hand for several moments. The simple touch of a sister soothed and lifted her spirits.

“Why don’t you find the girls and the menfolk and tell them we’re ready to eat?” Julia said.

Hannah quickly slipped on her cape and headed outdoors. The spring evening air felt refreshing after the overheated kitchen. She spotted Simon and Seth near the barn and gave them a beckoning wave. “Supper,” she called. When they waved back, she headed toward the sheep pasture where all five
kinner
stood huddled in a tight circle. As Hannah crossed the yard, she saw Emma bend low to speak to Phoebe, who appeared to be rubbing her eyes. The grim expressions on Matthew’s and Henry’s faces caused Hannah to pick up her skirt and run.

“What’s wrong?” she hollered. “What has happened?”

The question needed no answer as Hannah joined the group. A large ewe stood guard over her unmoving offspring just inside the fence. Hannah knew without getting any closer that the creature was dead.

“It’s dead, Aunt Hannah,” wailed Leah. “Why did the baby lamb die?”

Emma looked into her eyes with sympathy while Phoebe kept her
head buried in Emma’s skirt. Even the boys looked sad, though they had undoubtedly seen death before. It was part of the farming life.

Hannah inhaled deeply, feeling miserable herself. “Probably pneumonia,” she said. “It happens sometimes, Leah, and there’s not much we can do to prevent it. The baby’s lungs weren’t strong like the other lambs, and so it got sick.”

That much was true, but it wasn’t the whole story. The flock had probably become overheated on the truck and then subjected to the colder weather and perhaps a draftier barn than the one they were used to. She opted not to fill in the details, but she’d be surprised if she didn’t lose several more over the next week or two.

Leah nodded her head, accepting the explanation with resignation.

Phoebe, however, burst into wracking sobs. Despite everything the other
kinner
said, the child continued to cry.

Hannah stepped forward, crouched down to Phoebe’s level, and gently pulled her from the folds of Emma’s skirt. “Phoebe, we don’t have to be sad for the little lamb. He or she is already in heaven, playing with the other lambs that died before it. It will see its mama and its brothers and sisters someday when they get to heaven too. God cares for even the birds of the air; it says so in the Bible in the book of Matthew.”

For a moment, Phoebe turned her streaming face up to Hannah and appeared temporarily mollified.

Then the voice of Simon Miller boomed from behind them. “You
kinner,
get on up to the house! Your mamm has dinner already on the table.” They didn’t have to be told twice but started sprinting toward the house.

He waited until the children were beyond earshot and then raised his hand and shook his finger at Hannah. “Our Lord didn’t hang on the cross for sheep. I’ll not have you making up stories just to placate a child. Animals die. That’s part of life on a farm. And I won’t let
you misinterpret or change His Word. Not in my house!” His voice shook with anger.

The blood drained from Hannah’s face, while the bottom seemed to fall from her stomach. “Simon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, but he had already turned and stalked away from her. She felt ashamed and frightened, yet she couldn’t understand the error in her deed. Didn’t the Savior bid the children to come to Him, and didn’t He tell His disciples to be more like them? Hot tears streamed down her face. Soon she was awash in misery, no different than little Phoebe a few minutes ago.

“Aunt Hannah?” A voice called out, and Emma emerged from behind a tree. She ran to her aunt, holding wide her arms. “Are you still crying for the lamb?”

Hannah quickly wiped her face with her apron and accepted Emma’s hug. “No child. Not anymore. I’ve said a prayer, and now I’m at peace with the matter.” She forced her lips into a smile. At least the girl hadn’t overheard her
daed
’s admonition. Hannah couldn’t have handled that.

Emma’s young face brightened. “Oh, good. Let’s go in to dinner. I’m pretty hungry, aren’t you? We’re having fried chicken.”

Hannah thought her heart would break with her niece’s tender concern. “You go inside and tell your
mamm
I’ll eat something later. I want to look for signs of sickness among my other animals.” When Emma didn’t move, Hannah added more firmly, “Go on, Emma. I’m fine, but I want to check my flock.”

Reluctantly, Emma walked to the house, leaving Hannah alone with a very heavy heart.

“Tell me, dear
ehemann,
why don’t you like my sister?” Julia asked. With the unusually quiet dinner over, the boys gone to evening chores, Emma and Leah upstairs, and Seth off with Phoebe, she had a few
moments to talk with Simon. Much food remained for leftovers as no one’s appetite had been up to par.

“I like your sister well enough,
fraa.
That is not the point,” Simon said, after taking a sip of coffee. “But I won’t have her changing the Word of God for her own purposes.” He pulled what remained of the cherry pie closer for inspection.

Julia finished wiping down the counters and settled into the chair opposite his. “She was only trying to comfort a child.”

“I understand, but that is no excuse.” Simon pushed away the pie tin, apparently changing his mind. “It is dangerous to make up stories of false gospel. I read from the chapters of Scripture sanctioned by the bishop every night in this house. I won’t have her implying that sheep have souls and are worthy of a place in the hereafter.”

“I doubt that was her intention.” Julia reached out to place her hand on Simon’s. “I think there’s something else bothering you. I’ve never seen you get so riled up when explaining the
Ordnung
or correcting others in our district for errors in judgment.” She tightened her grip on her husband’s hand.

Simon looked up, his face redder than the rooster’s after discovering the hens ate all the feed. Then his pinched and sour expression softened. “
Ach,
there is more nettling me than her story to Phoebe. I fear my
bruder
may be growing fond of the widow Brown.” The words hung ominously in the kitchen like the announcement of the seventeen-year locusts.

Julia counted to five before responding. “And that would be so terrible? You fell in love with one Kline sister, and I don’t think our marriage turned out disastrous.”

Simon rolled his eyes but also suppressed a smile. “Hannah is nothing like you, wife. There is no similarity whatsoever.” He talked softly, glancing back at the door.

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment. She has many good qualities that I would love to share.”

Simon appeared to be growing weary of his wife’s prodding.
“Whatever favorable attributes the widow has or doesn’t have should be another man’s concern, not my brother’s,” he announced, as though settling the matter.

“You are probably worried about nothing. I’ve seen Hannah show no special interest in Seth. And if she should develop an interest at some point, and if Seth was of like mind, I see the match as a good one.”

Simon looked as though Julia had just declared corn should be planted in January and all Amish homes should forever more be painted purple. “No, Julia. I’ll not have it. And I’ll ask you not to encourage such a thing.” He struggled to his feet, throwing down his napkin. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good Amish man looking for a wife like Hannah Brown. And with any luck, he lives on the other side of Tuscarawas County.” A mottled red hue crept up his neck as Simon grabbed his coat from the peg and headed outdoors.

Julia could only shake her head and then bow it in prayer. If the plans of her heart were ever to come true, she was going to need divine help.

Seth had thought dinner would never be over. Although his sister-in-law’s cooking had been delicious, no one seemed to have enjoyed the roast chicken and parsley potatoes. The girls only pushed the food around their plates; the boys’ appetites were far smaller than normal; and even Simon had eaten little of his wife’s handiwork. Julia had kept glancing toward the back door during the entire meal.

He had heard about the dead lamb and comforted his daughter as best he could. And he understood Hannah’s concern and desire to check the rest of the flock. But something was wrong. There was more to it than a lost animal, but he knew better than to broach the subject at the dinner table.

After pushing Phoebe on the swing until the child grew bored, he fixed a plate of food from the leftovers in the refrigerator. Hannah still wasn’t back from her chores. The woman must be getting hungry.
They’d eaten little on their trip to town—only half a sandwich on the way there and an apple on the way back. Judging by her appearance when she returned from the pasture this morning, she must have walked long and hard. Seth placed the tin of chicken and vegetables in the bottom of a basket and poured milk into a Thermos. He wouldn’t be much of a friend if he didn’t see what was taking her so long.

After thirty minutes of hiking up and down the small hills and valleys, Seth finally spotted Hannah leaning against a swamp willow by the creek. Her shoulders were slumped, her head bowed. Surprisingly, her dress appeared to still be fairly clean.

“Good evening, Mrs. Brown,” he called. “You’re a hard woman to find despite your opinion this pasture is too small.”

Hannah’s head snapped up and her shoulders straightened. She had dozed off against the tree trunk. “Seth Miller, you have a talent for sneaking up on people.” A smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “But I am rather glad to see you.” One lock of sandy hair had escaped the pins and hung beneath her
kapp.

Seth settled himself on a log near the bank, setting the basket next to him in the tall grass.

“Why didn’t you come in to supper? You almost missed Julia’s roast chicken. That would’ve been a cryin’ shame.”

Hannah tucked the lock of hair behind her ear and dug her hands deep into the pockets of her cape. “I…I couldn’t come in until I checked my flock to see if I had any more lambs down. I made sure no toxic weeds that could be nibbled by hungry critters had sprouted. Lupine, milkweed, larkspur, chokeberry—all can be poisonous, especially in the spring. Rhododendron, laurel, and azalea are toxic and need to be pruned so they don’t overhang the fences. Even acorns left behind from last fall can cause kidney damage to sheep.”