A Home for Lydia (The Pebble Creek Amish Series) (30 page)

“Suppose it was.”

“
Gotte
was watching out for me.”

“That He was, Gracie.”

“And He sent Pepper.”

Daddi
smiled at her, and then he resumed sanding the piece of wood.

“Do you believe He sent Doc Hanson to watch over
mammi
?”

“Could be. Doc seems to be doing a
gut
job.”

Grace felt better while she was holding on to Pepper. Her stomach stopped flipping, but she still felt
trembly
, like the leaves in the fall. Like she might blow away.

She might as well ask.
Daddi
had never lied to her before.

“What if the medicine doesn’t work? What if
mammi
gets worse? What will we do?”

Daddi
set aside the block of wood and joined her on the floor of the barn, on the other side of Pepper, who seemed happy with all the attention. “You know the Bible tells us that
Gotte
has a plan for each of our lives.”

“
Ya
, I know that.”

“And He has a
gut
plan for Abigail’s life.”

“Does it include her getting sick?”

“I don’t know. I hope it includes her getting well. I’m trusting in
Gotte’s gut
plan. You can always trust in His word, and in His promises. That’s what it says in Jeremiah.”

“
Ya
. I memorized that verse.”

“Can you say it to me?”

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the L
ORD
, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

“
Gut!
”
Daddi
stood. When he did his knees popped. He looked at her and winked, which made Grace laugh. “My knees sound like the popping corn in the pan. That happens when you’re old.”

Sitting back on the wooden crate, he returned to working on the piece of wood. Grace had no idea what it was going to be. It didn’t look like a bowl because it was square. She couldn’t see what was on top.

“The verses that follow the one you quoted are important too. You’re growing old enough to learn to study the Bible and not just memorize what a teacher gives you.”

“I’m nine.” Grace sat up straighter.
Daddi
knew how old she was. He’d hired a driver and taken them all to the top of Wildcat Mountain State Park for her birthday. They’d had a picnic and walked the trails. She’d seen wild deer and trees taller than any she’d ever imagined.
Daddi
had not forgotten her ninth birthday.

“The verses that come directly after the one you quoted from Joshua speak to
Gotte
’s desire for us. They say, ‘Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.’”

Grace stared at Pepper, who didn’t seem perturbed at all.

“Does that mean His plan won’t work if we don’t pray enough?”

“
Nein
, child. I wouldn’t say that. But we might not understand it if we don’t pray enough.”

“
Ya
. There’s a lot I don’t understand.”

“Have you been praying much?”

“I try.” Grace stood and followed him as he put away his sandpaper and closed up the barn for the evening. “Sometimes, though, in the middle of my prayers, my mind wanders. I start thinking of school or drawing. Half the time I fall asleep. And the other half I go off worrying about things.”

She was beginning to feel worse again.

If
mammi
’s health was depending on her prayer life, they were in big trouble.

Daddi
stopped at the pasture fence and pointed toward one of the
calves that was trying to nurse. The big brown heifer tolerated it for a moment before she walked away.

“See how that cow treated her calf?”

“Kind of rude.”

Daddi
’s laugh rang out across the field. “She’s teaching it. The calf has to learn to eat other things than milk. It won’t grow strong enough on milk alone.”

“Okay…” She drew the word out as she ran the stick along the pasture fence. Pepper ran a few feet in front of them, sniffing for ground birds, but he always circled back.

“
Gotte
is always teaching us, Grace. Same as that heifer is teaching that calf.”

“I feel like a calf sometimes.”

“Is that right?”

“Sure. I don’t like it when things are hard. Look how the calf is running after its
mamm
. That’s me. Running after Miriam.” She laughed in spite of her misery. The calf did look funny. He wasn’t quite skilled on his four legs yet, and the heifer was once again allowing him to nurse.

Daddi
put his hand on her back. “
Gotte
doesn’t mind your attempts at prayer, even when they fall short. You keep trying. He loves you, Gracie, more than that heifer loves that calf—much more. He’ll take care of you and me and your
mammi
as well.”

“But there’s no promise she’ll get well.”

“Nope. We don’t get that kind of promise in this life. The promise we get is that He loves us. You can count on that one.”

Grace threw her arms around his waist. He smelled of barns and wood and calves. He smelled like
grossdaddi
.

More than anything, that sent the trembles away and calmed her stomach.

As they climbed the porch steps, she was greeted by the smell of oatmeal cookies. Someone had felt well enough to cook.

“Cookies, milk, and checkers sound
gut
?”
Daddi
held up the piece of wood, and she saw that it was a new checkerboard.

“It’s beautiful.” Grace took it from his hands and ran her fingers over the pattern of light wood against dark. “When did you have time to make this?”

“A few minutes here and there are easy to find. I sent the last board with your youngest cousin—he needs the practice. I know how this family loves a
gut
game, so I made another.”

Grace thought the evening was one of their best ever. She still didn’t understand exactly what her
grossmammi
was suffering from—though now she knew the name of it was a disease called hyperthyroidism. Her
mamm
had explained it to her on the ride over, but Grace couldn’t imagine how a thing in your neck, a thing you couldn’t even feel, could make you so sick. Your heart? Yes. She could put her hand to her chest and feel her heart beat. But something in your neck? That was hard to imagine.

The important thing was that Doc Hanson would give
mammi
the medicine she needed on Friday—something radioactive, which sounded horrible.

If it worked, they would all be grateful for the medicine. If it made her well, she supposed horrible was fine.

Until they knew for sure, Grace would pray.

Chapter 26

G
abe was happy to be laboring in his fields. The sun was shining on his back, the workhorses were hitched to his plow, and his arms ached from the effort of hours of work.

Finally the restlessness that had plagued him for weeks disappeared. If it meant he fell asleep the moment he dropped into bed, that wasn’t a problem. His
fraa
smiled and said she understood. What did concern him was that he woke with more aches than he’d ever had before.

When he first stood in the morning, he feared his legs might buckle. That was what months of working in the barn did to a man—softened him and added an extra five pounds where he didn’t need it. Gabe refused to accept that it could be his age. He was only thirty-four, which was not an old man. Men across the community, men far older than he, were in the fields today. However, there was no denying that his knees hurt. His legs ached. His abdomen felt as if their donkey Gus had run into him at top speed.

Yet in spite of the soreness, working in the fields improved Gabe’s mood. It would also toughen him up, which apparently he needed. Next winter he would find a way to stay in better shape. Perhaps he would have sons to follow his two
dochdern
. He wanted to still be able to plow a field by the time they were able to work beside him.

That thought—of sons—brought a smile to his face and helped him push past the muscle fatigue. He plowed for another hour, his mind focused on the horses, the rows, and the crops that would grow. The four Belgian draft horses were powerful, hardworking animals. Three sorrels and a red, they were handsome geldings. Young and healthy, they stood between seventeen and eighteen hands high. They were too large to ride comfortably, but Gabe hadn’t bought them for riding…he’d bought them for plowing.

The animals seemed to recognize that.

They pulled the plow in unison, responding to Gabe’s direction easily. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps they were as relieved to be working as he was. The labor was
gut
. It was what they had waited the winter for. With the fields finally dry enough to be worked, he was eager to allow it to exhaust him. He might have continued through lunch, but by the time he saw Miriam step outside the back door, placing food on the table under the shade tree, he was dripping with sweat and as needful as the horses for a break.

“Out here is a
gut
idea for lunch,” he said, as he washed off at the pump. “I believe I smell bad. You wouldn’t want me inside.”

Miriam smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Rachel asleep?”

“
Ya
. I cracked the window a little so I could hear if she wakes up.”

They bowed their heads, and as they prayed silently over the noon meal, Gabe asked for wisdom. He knew his
fraa
’s heart was heavy, and he suspected he knew why, but how was he to help her? How was he to ease the pain she was experiencing?

He knew from his own past that sometimes waiting was the worst, and Abigail wasn’t scheduled to go to the medical center in Eau Claire until Friday.

What comfort could he offer?

They had both taken the first bite of their sandwiches when Rachel let out a howl which could be heard quite easily through the open window—could probably be heard across the field to where he’d left the horses.

Miriam closed her eyes, chewing her food as Rachel’s cry picked up steam.

“Would you like me to fetch her?”

“I would not,” she said, glancing under the table to stare at his work boots, caked in mud.

“What I hear you saying is that I might be more trouble than I’m worth.”

Instead of answering, Miriam took one more bite of her sandwich, this one so large she had trouble chewing and wagged her finger at him. “Don’t eat my sandwich.”

The words were barely discernible, but the fact that he saw a hint of humor in her eyes eased a little of his own worry.

She returned with a red-faced Rachel, rubbing her eyes and hiccupping now that she was being held by her
mamm
.

“Teething?” Gabe asked.

Miriam rubbed her finger along Rachel’s bottom front gum. “I don’t think so. Honestly I don’t know what’s wrong with her. No fever. No runny nose. And no teething.”

Sitting back down at the table, she took another bite of her sandwich, misery etched on her face.