Love’s Journey Home (11 page)

The litany of blessings went on. Helen tried so hard to be a cheerful believer, but
Annie saw something different in her eyes. “I can hear a big
but
in there that you’re not saying.”

“No big
but
. I try to do the right thing.” Helen shook her head so hard her kapp strings flopped.
“I try to raise the children according to the Ordnung.”

“You have. I’ve watched you.”

“Edmond is—”

“Edmond is running around. His escapade with the buggy might be the very thing that
brings him back into the fold.”

“A silver lining?”

“Jah.”

Helen nodded, her expression hopeful. “Have you met Gabriel Gless?”

“Nee. But I met one of his sons, Isaac, and it looks like Mary Elizabeth will work
here, if her daed allows it.”

“Isaac looks like Gabriel.”

“Naturally.”

Helen tugged on her kapp strings until the kapp slid a little askew on her head. Annie
wanted to tell her to stop, but realized it would sound like a mother admonishing
a child. Given the difference in their ages, it wouldn’t be right. “Why are you sad?”

“I went to the parade. I learned to go ahead. I accepted God’s will for me.” She raised
her gaze to Annie’s. “But still, things don’t seem to work out.”

“What does that have to do with Gabriel Gless?”

“I don’t know. He got me all mixed up. I stumbled around.”

“That’s nothing new for you.” Annie couldn’t contain her grin. “You think you might…you
think
he
might…”

“He thinks I’m a bad mudder.” Helen glowered. “He already thinks badly of me and we
just met. The first new man to come into our district in a long time and I already
don’t measure up.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t think badly of you. He only met you yesterday.”

“You didn’t see the look on his face when he realized Edmond was my son. Anyway, it’s
neither here nor there. If God’s plan is for me to marry again, it will happen. How’s
Noah?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“It’s better if we do. No amount of nattering on about it will change what happens.”
Helen stood and scooped up the canvas bags that held the bread. “But you won’t be
able to discern God’s plan for you if you don’t step out in faith.”

Annie held Helen’s gaze. The purpose of the visit had not been to deliver jelly or
pick up bread. “You’re a good friend.”

“David would want you to go on living. He would expect it.”

“Everyone expects it.”

“Because they know it’s God’s plan.” Helen waved as she headed for the door. “Isaac
looks like Gabriel. And he seems nice.”

“Helen!”

The bell over the door dinged and her friend disappeared from sight.

“Nice,” she said aloud. Helen gave good advice but she didn’t seem to be able to take
it herself. “Indeed.”

G
abriel leaned against the long-handled shovel with one hand and wiped at his face
with the back of his shirt sleeve. The air steamed around him, his lungs ached, and
his back muscles alternated between knotting and burning. They’d been digging steadily
since before dawn. The hole Thomas hoped would be the home of his new water well now
gaped over their heads. Gabriel eyed the walls. He saw no signs of crumbling or a
potential cave-in yet. He grabbed the bucket hanging from the makeshift pulley, loaded
it with dirt and rocks, gave a grunt, and tugged on the rope. Overhead, Eli, Seth,
and Daniel took turns operating the crank they’d constructed between two enormous
chunks of tree wood. They then emptied the bucket of its contents.

“We should be getting close,” Thomas muttered, his back to Gabriel as he wielded his
shovel. “We should hit the water table soon, if the chart the librarian gave Emma
is right. If we don’t, we’ll have to start over in another place.”

“This is the best location. Flat ground. Not too far from the house, but far enough
not to be contaminated.” Gabriel stopped to breathe. The still air hung around them,
dank and close, making it hard to draw a breath. “Any time now.”

The bucket descended in front of him and stopped with a clank on the bottom. Eli’s
giggle accompanied the sound. The boy enjoyed his work despite his disappointment
in not being allowed to help with the digging. Thomas’s concern over the potential
for the walls to crumble had nixed that idea.

Thomas gave a whoop. Startled, Gabriel whirled to see his friend stomping his dusty
boots in a small rivulet of water snaking across the bottom of the hole. Relief mixed
with amusement. The ever silent Thomas had a grin stretched across his face. He held
his shovel over his head and gave it a triumphant shake. “Water.”

The boys heard the word and Thomas’s whoop quickly became a chorus.

“Yup. Water, indeed.” Gabriel grabbed a rung on the ladder they’d built from two-by-fours
left over from the last room addition Thomas had constructed for his growing family.
“I told you this spot was right.”

“I picked the spot. You wanted to get closer to the creek.” Thomas called after him.
“Bring down the shorter shovels.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

In a matter of minutes, water began to fill the bottom of the hole. Digging under
water proved to be a whole new proposition. Using a sawed-off shovel so the blade
could lie flat, Gabriel continued to dig while Thomas employed a crowbar to loosen
rocks, and Samuel handled a posthole digger to pick them up. It was hard to say whether
they were covered with water or sweat. The liquid soaking Gabriel’s clothes cooled
him, but the lack of breeze deep in the pit made their enclosure suffocating. The
minutes turned into hours. The muscles in his back protested and finally, blessedly,
went numb.

“I think we’ve hit rock bottom.” Thomas huffed. His ruddy complexion had turned a
deep almost purple hue. “It’s as deep as it’s gonna get.”

“We have almost four feet of water. We’re good.”

Thomas nodded, relief etched across his dirty face. Sweat dripped from his beard,
and his shirt had gone from light blue to dark with perspiration. “Now for the casing.”

Sharing in Thomas’s relief, Gabriel shimmied up the ladder. He stood for a few seconds,
letting the fresh air of an almost nonexistent breeze cool his face. He gulped water
from a jug they’d brought from the house.

“You ready?” Thomas slapped his own jug on a tree stump. “We have to get the casing
down there.”

Gabriel nodded and shook out his arms, then cranked his head side to side, listening
to the
pop-pop
sound. “Here we go.”

It took all six of them to lower the fifteen-foot PVC culvert pipe into place, careful
not to scrape the sides of the hole. Eli, Samuel, Daniel, and Seth had spent the morning
using gas powdered drills to punch evenly spaced holes throughout the pipe so water
could pour in through the sides. Once the casing was in place, the boys moved on to
their favorite part—filling in the space between the well’s wall and the casing with
rocks to hold it in place. They’d already made two trips to the creek for the rocks.
They had way more fun slinging the rocks into the hole then Gabriel thought possible.

“Perfect.” Thomas surveyed the work. He’d done his share of rock throwing, as gleeful
as the boys. “We’ve got two feet left above ground.”

“Right, the boys can work on capping it.” Gabriel nodded, more than a little satisfied
at their work. His back continued to ache, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms
felt like jelly. On days like today, he felt downright old. “That’ll keep the dirt
and the animals out. Daniel can build the safety wall. We don’t want the little ones
falling in.”

“Daed, how come the water looks so black?” Eli tugged at Thomas’s sleeve with a muddy
hand that left dirty prints. “Will we have to drink it that way?”

“The dirt will settle and the rocks will filter it.” Thomas said. He squatted next
to his son and stared down the well. “It’s fine…”

Something in his tone caught Gabriel’s attention. “What is it?” He squatted alongside
the other two and peered at the swirling water below. Instead of being the clear,
deep underground water he was used to seeing, the water was black. “What is that?”

Thomas’s smile disappeared into a frown. His grip on the pipe tightened until his
knuckles turned white. “I think we’ve found more than water, that’s what I think.”

H
elen took a deep breath and smoothed her apron. She glanced at Edmond. He looked clean
and neat. Nodding, she knocked on Micah Kelp’s door. Since her own living room still
resembled a house under construction, the bishop had directed Edmond and Helen to
come to his home. Micah Kelp opened the door on the first knock. He nodded and without
a word, stepped back to allow them to enter.

“Sit.” He gestured to two chairs on either side of a small pine table that held an
overflowing sewing basket. For himself, he took a straight-back chair that looked
as if it came from a dining room table set. “Susana has gone to visit her mother at
the dawdi haus, so let us begin.”

Helen glanced at Edmond. His thin face blanched white. Red blotches covered his neck.
Her own undoubtedly looked the same. Edmond might have his father’s blond hair and
blue eyes, but he seemed to have inherited her social graces…or lack thereof. He squirmed
in the chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and then uncrossed them. His Adam’s
apple bobbed.

“I’m very sorry for what I did. I overstepped the bounds of the rumspringa.” His voice
cracked—from nerves or from that awkward growing-up time of boys turning into men—Helen
couldn’t be sure. “I understand that. I take responsibility.”

“Do you now?” Bishop Kelp leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his knees,
and interlaced his fingers in front of him. “What exactly are you taking responsibility
for?”

“The drinking.” Edmond squirmed some more. His face flushed a red darker than raspberries.
“The buggy ride on the parade route.”

“Those are only actions.” Bishop Kelp shook his shaggy head. “Do you understand the
results of those actions?”

“I went to jail. Bond had to be paid. We owe Thomas and Onkel Tobias money. I will
pay them back.”

“You’re not seeing the bigger consequences.” The bishop leaned back and tugged on
his beard with thick, callused fingers. “Think harder. Much harder. Use the brain
God gave you, son.”

Edmond flinched. He glanced at Helen. She tried to give him an encouraging smile,
but her face froze with embarrassment and mortification and shame.
Help him, please, help him to find the words. Help him to understand what he’s done.
Help him to show Micah he’s learned his lesson
.

Part of her wanted to cry out that he was only a boy, but she knew better. Edmond
had arrived at a crossroad. If he didn’t pick the right path he could end up in a
hospital like Josiah Shirack, or worse, choose to leave the faith as other members
of their district had done. He had to choose. He alone could choose his path.

“I did not keep myself apart from the world.” Edmond spoke haltingly, his voice just
above a whisper. “I chose to be worldly.”

“Speak up, boy. I can’t hear you.” Micah’s tone was brusque, but Helen saw kindness
in the faded blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. “And what happened because of that
choice?”

“I caused our community to be ridiculed.”

“Worse. We don’t care so much what the Englisch think of us, although we try to set
a good example. You allowed worldliness to enter our community.” Micah’s voice deepened
and rumbled like the thunder of a few nights before. “You allowed it to touch your
sisters and cousins and friends. You set a bad example for each of them who will one
day have their own time of rumspringa.”

The bishop removed his glasses and began to polish them with a handkerchief. He seemed
deeply engrossed in this task for a few seconds. “Try again.”

“I’ll have to deal with the Englischers’ legal system.” Edmond’s voice sounded hoarse.
“I’ll have to go to court.”

“Think about your mudder. Your actions affect her. Did you not think of how they affect
her? Did you not think of how hard she works to raise you by the Ordnung without the
help of your father?”

“Jah.”

“I think not.” He laid the glasses aside and fixed Edmond with an icy stare. “You
thought of no one but yourself. You thought of your own enjoyment. You thought of
your own appearance in the eyes of Englisch youth who no doubt took pleasure in your
downfall.”

Harsh words. Helen’s hands were cold despite the July heat. She’d heard Micah reprimand
more than one wayward member of the community over the years, but never with such
ferocity as with this sixteen-year-old boy. Her son. She opened her mouth, saw the
slight shake of his head, and closed it once again. She knotted her hands in her lap
and stared at the white skin of her knuckles.
You reap what you sow
. Her mudder said that often enough when Helen and her brothers and sisters were growing
up.
Be careful what you sow, or you might not like what you reap
.