A Sister's Test (30 page)

Mom nodded, her eyes revealing obvious compassion. “That must have been hard.”

“It was, but at least I knew Anna was alive and the potential of having more kinner hadn’t been taken from me.”

Mom leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “What concerns me more than Ruth’s grief is her growing bitterness and refusal to talk about things.”

“I don’t know what we can do to help other than pray and keep suggesting things she might like to do.”

“I wanted her to go shopping and out to lunch with me later this week, but she said no to that idea.” Mom slowly shook her head. “Ruth doesn’t want to do anything but sit around the house and pine for what she’s lost.”

Grace reached over and clasped her mother’s hand. “It’s hard being a parent, jah?”

Mom nodded as tears welled in her eyes. “But there are many rewards.”

How well Grace knew that. She wouldn’t trade a single moment
of motherhood—not even those days when the baby was fussy and Anna whined about everything. Her heart went out to her sister.

Dear Lord
, Grace prayed silently,
please give Ruth’s life joy and meaning again, and help me be more appreciative of all I have
.

W
hy don’t you go to the dog auction with Martha today?” Mom suggested when Ruth entered the kitchen one Friday morning in early March. “It should be fun.”

“I’m not interested in watching a bunch of yapping dogs get auctioned off,” Ruth said with a shake of her head.

“It would be good if you could find something you’re interested in.”

Ruth clenched her teeth as she struggled not to say something unkind. She knew Mom meant well, but she didn’t understand. No one did.

“Ruth, did you hear what I said?”

Placing the jug of milk she’d taken from the refrigerator onto the table, Ruth turned to face her mother. “I heard, but I’m not going to the auction with Martha. I woke up with a koppweh.”

Mom’s eyebrows furrowed. “If you’ve got a headache, why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll bring you a breakfast tray.”

“I don’t need a breakfast tray, and I wish you’d quit treating me like a child.” Ruth’s hands shook as she picked up a stack of napkins and began setting the table.

“I’m sorry.” Mom started across the room toward Ruth, but Martha entered the kitchen and stepped between them.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking at Ruth. “I could hear your shrill voice all the way upstairs.”

Tears burned the back of Ruth’s throat, and she swallowed hard, unable to answer her sister’s question.

Martha turned and gave Mom a questioning look.

“I suggested that Ruth go to the dog auction with you today, but she says she’s got a headache.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Martha shrugged. “You’d probably be bored watching a bunch of hyper dogs get auctioned off anyhow.”

Ruth nodded and hurried over to the cupboard to get out the dishes. At least Martha hadn’t suggested she go back to her room and be served breakfast in bed.

“What time will you be leaving for Walnut Creek?” Mom asked, smiling at Martha.

“In an hour or so.”

“Your daed will be in from doing his chores soon, and then we can eat.”

“What would you like me to do?” Martha asked.

“Why don’t you make some toast while Ruth sets the table? I’ve got a pot of oatmeal cooking, and it should be done soon.”

“Okay.”

“Would you like some aspirin?” Mom asked, stepping up to Ruth.

“I’ll get it.”

“I bought a new bottle when I went shopping yesterday. It’s in the cupboard above the sink,” Mom said.

“You’ve had a lot of headaches lately,” Martha put in. “Maybe you should see the chiropractor for a neck adjustment.”

“It’s not my neck causing the headaches.”

“Maybe some valerian root would help,” Mom said as she lifted the lid on the oatmeal and peeked inside.

Ruth dropped the silverware to the table with a clatter. “I don’t need any herbs or chiropractic adjustments. I need to be left alone!” She whirled around and dashed out of the room.

As Cleon sat at the breakfast table with Grace and Anna, he made up his mind that he would try to show his stepdaughter a little more attention this morning.

“How are things going with you at school these days?” he asked, looking over at Anna.

“Okay.”

“Have you learned anything new?”

Anna reached for her glass of milk and gulped some down. “I guess so.”

“What have you learned?”

“Hmm. . .”

“Well?”

The child shrugged.

Cleon’s patience was beginning to wane, and he gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at Anna.

Grace gently poked his arm. “Would you please pass the syrup?”

“Jah, sure.” He handed Grace the bottle of syrup and turned to Anna again. “Are you looking forward to summer coming so you can spend time with your baby brother?”

Anna’s forehead wrinkled. “He cries too much. I’m gonna spend all my time with Esta this summer.”

“Not all your time,” Grace corrected. “You’ll have chores to do, remember?”

“Jah, I know.”

Cleon reached for his cup of coffee. “When you’re not doing chores, you should get to know Daniel better. Maybe you and your mamm can put the boppli in the stroller and wheel him down to the woodworking shop to see me and your grandpa.”

Anna looked over at Grace. “I wonder why my other grandpa hasn’t sent me no more letters.”

“It’s
any more
, not
no more
,” Grace said, touching the child’s arm. “And you did get a letter and some money from your grandpa Davis for Christmas.”

Anna’s lower lip protruded. “That was a long time ago. I wish we could see where Poppy lives since he’s still not feelin’ so good.”

“Maybe after Daniel gets a little bigger.”

“Really, Mama?” Anna’s expression turned hopeful.

Grace opened her mouth as if to say something, but Cleon cut her off.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Jah, Papa, why not?” Anna looked at Cleon with questioning eyes.

“For one thing, it’s going to be a while before Daniel’s big enough to take a long trip.” He glanced at Grace, hoping she would help him out, but she just stared at her plate of half-eaten pancakes.

“Linda Mast said she and her family went to Florida last summer, and they took their boppli along,” Anna argued.

Cleon grunted. “That may be true, but the Mast baby is older than Daniel.”

“So we can’t go?”

“Things are really hectic around here right now,” he said. “Your aunt Ruth is still hurting from the loss of Martin, and your mamm needs to be here for her.”

“But she’s got Grandma and Grandpa Hostettler and Aunt Martha, too.”

“We can talk about this later,” Cleon mumbled.

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“But I need to know when,” Anna persisted. “I’m gonna write Poppy a letter when I get home from school. I want to tell him when I can come—”

Cleon held up his hand. “Don’t tell him anything; do you understand?”

With a strangled sob, Anna pushed back her chair and dashed from the room.

“Did you have to make her cry?” Grace slowly shook her head. “I hate to send her off to school with her eyes all red and swollen.”

Cleon frowned. “Why is it that every time I say something to Anna, she ends up crying and then you take her side?”

“I was not taking her side. If I’d been taking her side, I would have tried to make you realize that Daniel will be old enough to travel by summer.”

“No, he won’t, because I don’t want him going halfway across the country. I don’t think it would be good for Anna to see her grandpa right now.”

“Why not?”

“You know how strained things have been between me and Anna since Daniel was born. If she saw her grandpa Davis again, she might
not want to come home.”

“I don’t relish the idea of her seeing him again, either, but that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“I think if you would start paying Anna more attention, things might not be so strained between you two, and she wouldn’t be thinking about her grandpa Davis so much.”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault, is it?” Cleon’s face heated up. “I was trying to make conversation with her, and you saw the kind of response I got. She barely answered any of my questions.”

Grace opened her mouth to respond, but the baby’s cry halted her words. “I’d better tend to Daniel.” She pushed her chair away from the table and rushed out of the room.

Cleon grabbed his cup to drink the last of his coffee but discovered it had turned cold. “That figures,” he mumbled. This was not the beginning of a good day.

R
uth had been lying on the sofa for quite a while when she heard a knock on the front door. Her mother had gone to the woodworking shop to take Dad his lunch, and Martha was still at the dog auction. No one but her could answer the door.

Reluctantly, she sat up and plodded over to the door. When she opened it, she discovered a middle-aged English woman with short, chestnut-colored hair and dark brown eyes standing on the porch.

“May I help you?”

The woman nodded. “My name’s Rosemary Cole, and I’m looking for my brother.”

Ruth squinted against the invading light streaming through the open door. “I don’t know anyone with the last name of Cole living nearby,” she said.

“My brother’s last name is Hostettler.”

“Hostettler?”

“That’s right. Roman Hostettler.”

Ruth’s mouth fell open, and she leaned against the doorjamb for support. “Are—are you my dad’s sister?”

“Yes.”

Ruth stared at the woman, trying to piece things together. Finally, she opened the door wider and said, “I’m Ruth—Roman’s daughter. Please, come inside.”

Rosemary followed Ruth into the living room and took a seat on the
sofa. “Is—is my brother here?”

“He’s out in his woodworking shop right now,” Ruth said as she seated herself in the rocking chair across from Rosemary. “Would you like me to take you there?”

“Yes. No.” Rosemary gave her left earlobe a tug, a habit she and Roman had begun when they were children. “Sorry, I’m feeling kind of nervous right now. I’d like a few minutes to compose myself before I see my brother.”