Hidden Mercies (16 page)

Claire walked in, a quilt folded over her arm. “He could not help the way he was. Abraham was only doing what he thought best. That is the way he was raised.”

“That’s true,” Levi said. “I’m sorry. I should not have criticized him.”

Claire waved off his apology and laid the folded quilt across the foot of the bed. “Here is extra warmth if you need it. I hope you will be comfortable here.”

“I appreciate your hospitality,” Tom said.

Claire merely gave a curt nod and went back down the steps.

He was a little surprised at the lack of warmth. Claire was usually more personable than that.

“Is she okay with me being here?” Tom said.

“She seemed fine with it when we talked,” Levi said. “
Maam
gets a little preoccupied when she has a client who is close to birth. She will be fine. I’m going to be working downstairs for a while today. Come down whenever you’re settled and I’ll show you around my shop. And there’s this broken chain saw . . .”

“I’ll take a look at it, son.”

“Thanks.”

Levi headed down the stairs, unperturbed by Tom’s slip of tongue. It wasn’t unusual for an older man to refer to a younger man as “son.” Tom knew that, but what shook him was that he had nearly meant it literally. He had met Levi only a week ago, but it would be easy to love him as a son.

Realizing this, he pondered the question that he had posed to Claire a few days earlier. Was there anything Levi could do that would make him stop loving him? Could make him hate him? He came up with the same answer Claire had—no. He might be disappointed, or hurt, or angry—but to stop loving him? He honestly did not think it was possible.

He wondered what it was about him that had made it possible for his father to hate him so much that he would pretend he no longer existed.

•   •   •

Claire hid those first four hundred-dollar bills that Tom gave her for rent beneath a rug in her bedroom. This was the start of her new horse fund, and she was absolutely determined not to dip into it. Flora had been wheezing yesterday when she came home, even though it was a fairly short trip to the bishop’s.

Today was going to be a good day. She had no appointments, no one ready to go into labor, and Maddy wasn’t at work today. And it was Saturday, so the younger children were not at school, and the sun was shining. The only thing she had to do today was start working on her house so she could host church without embarrassment. Her plan was to make a list of jobs for each of the children and take a good hard run at that mountain of work she had to do. Even Amy could do some dusting and sorting out of drawers, especially if
she had Sarah’s and Daniel’s help. Albert and Jesse could start shoveling out the stables. Hopefully Levi could help with that. She and the older girls could begin washing the walls upstairs. It was not looked down upon to have a “work frolic” the week before hosting church, but the family was expected to do as much as possible in the weeks leading up to it.

She had gathered her children together around the kitchen table and was handing out assignments when her sister, Rose, knocked on the screen door with a basket over her arm.

A visit with Rose was always welcome. Perhaps, if her back was feeling better, she could stay and help with the impromptu work frolic she and the children were having. What fun that would be!

Her hopes about her sister staying were soon crushed.

“Can I talk to you privately on the porch?” Rose asked after a brief greeting.

Rose’s face was pinched with worry, and she seemed thinner.

“Of course.” An ominous feeling was stirring in the pit of Claire’s stomach as she followed Rose to the far end of the porch.

Rose had a bad habit of chewing her fingernails when she was upset, even when she was small. For years, Claire had accurately judged her sister’s emotional state by glancing at her fingernails. Well-shaped, healthy nails were a sign that things were going well in Rose’s world.

As her sister drew back a towel to reveal several fine pieces of china in her basket, Claire saw her fingers and stifled a gasp. Rose had practically gnawed her fingernails off. Even her cuticles were ragged and bleeding.

“You mentioned that you liked this dinnerware set the last time you came over,” Rose said. “I—I’m getting rid of some things. I wondered if you might like to take them off my hands. I wouldn’t charge you very much.”

This behavior was so out of character, coming from her generous sister, that Claire could hardly believe it. In the past, Rose would have given her first choice of anything she no longer wanted, and refused any mention of pay.

“What’s going on, Rose?” Claire said. “I’m your sister, you can tell me.”

Rose feigned nonchalance. “Oh, we’re a little short on cash this month. I thought I’d sell a few things that I was planning on getting rid of anyway.”

“You loved this set,” Claire said. “It was a tenth anniversary gift from Henry. I’m going to ask again—what is going on?”

“If you don’t want to buy them, it’s okay.” Rose tucked the towel back over the dishes and attempted to leave. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

Claire blocked her way. “You aren’t leaving this porch until you tell me exactly what is going on in your life.”

She knew a battle was going on inside of Rose. Her sister was torn between loyalty to her husband, her own pride, and great need. She knew the instant when the battle stopped, because what light there had been in Rose’s eyes went out.

“We have no food in the house,” Rose said. “My children are hungry.”

Those words felt like the kick in the stomach she had once received from an irritated milk cow.

“What about all of that canned produce you put up last summer?” Claire asked. “Even we have not eaten all we grew yet.”

“What do you think we’ve been living on the past few months, Claire? It’s gone.”

The idea of a good Amish family having no food in their house was unbelievable. She could hardly imagine it. No one went hungry in Holmes County. At least no one who was
Amish. A family might be a little ragged, their shoes worn, but the land was rich and generous, and help from neighbors was plentiful when there was need.

“Don’t you have any livestock left?”

“I butchered the chickens, one by one. We’ve eaten the pork from our pigs—even though it was the wrong time of year to butcher. Henry has crops in the field, but it will be many weeks before harvest.”

“The church has not helped you?”

“Henry will not ask.” Rose lifted her chin. “And I will not dishonor my husband by going behind his back. The children have been living on leftovers that I have taken home from the restaurant, but on the days I’m unable to work, they have nothing.”

Claire looked at her sister’s emaciated body. “You’ve been going without food, too.”

“My children’s need is greater than mine.”

Claire’s mind flew to the four hundred dollars she’d so carefully tucked beneath the braided wool rug in her bedroom. She had vowed not to touch it until she’d saved enough for a horse. But now the need for a new horse, as great as it was, paled in comparison to what was going on in Rose’s home.

“Stay right here,” Claire said. “I’ll be right back.”

She flew to her bedroom, extracted the money from beneath her rug, emptied her purse of every dime, put it all into a ziplock bag, and ran back to the porch.

“Where are you going,
Mommi
?” Sarah asked. “Why are you and Rose staying out on the porch?”

“Don’t worry, little one,” Claire said. “Just some grown-up talk.”

“Is Rose going to have a baby?” Sarah asked.

The question brought Claire up short until she realized
that sometimes when women clients came to her home, she would tell Sarah to go outside and play so that she could have grown-up talk.

“Not that I know of,” she said as she hurried outside.

“Sarah wants to know if you’re pregnant,” she asked.

“No chance of that,” Rose said.

“Really?”

“Henry has been a little . . . distracted for the past several months.”

“What do you think is going on with him?”

“I do not know,” Rose said. “He will not talk to me anymore. Not about finances, not about the farm, not about where he goes. He used to leave only on Saturday. Now he is gone for two or three days a week. He gets angry if I ask him where he is gone to all that time. It’s like I am living with a stranger.”

“How is he able to farm if he’s gone so much?”

“He isn’t. The children and I are keeping the livestock fed. We never know when he will be home and when he will be gone. Even when he is with us, it is as though he is someplace else in his head. It is to the point that it is easier around our home when he is gone. He left early today. He might not come home until tomorrow or the day after. That happens sometimes.”

“You know the leaders of our church will have to get involved if things don’t change soon.”

“I know,” Rose said. “But I can’t face going to them yet, and I’m praying hard that whatever is eating at Henry will go away.”

Claire decided that even though there was nothing she could do about Henry, she could help feed her sister and her sister’s children.

“I still have jars of vegetable soup in my cellar yet, and
much applesauce and other things. Come help me fill your buggy. Oh, and here’s money for groceries.” She handed Rose the ziplock bag.

Rose stared at the bag for a long time without reaching for it.

“You would do it for me, and you know it,” Claire said.

“I would,” Rose said. “I would not have to think about it for a second.”

“Nor do I.”

“But I have a husband and you do not.”

“True—but from where I stand, your Henry is not much use to you these days.”

Rose took the money and tucked it into her pocketbook. Then they carried some of Claire’s surplus of canned goods up from the cellar to the buggy. It wasn’t until Rose drove out of sight that Claire realized her sister had deliberately left the basket of lovely dinnerware behind.

Somehow, the joy had gone out of cleaning her house today. Having things in perfect order for church no longer seemed all that important.

•   •   •

Tom watched the pitiful little scene unfolding below him. Neither Claire nor Rose seemed to be aware that their voices were carrying. They were so engrossed in their own drama, they weren’t aware that he was sitting on the small landing outside Levi’s apartment.

He had been tempted to run in and add whatever cash he had in his billfold to what Claire gave her sister, but he doubted it would be welcome, especially considering how hard it had been for Rose even to confide in her sister.

He and Rose’s husband had not seen each other since they were boys. Henry wouldn’t recognize him as anyone connected
to the family. There was a chance he could help Rose find out where Henry had been going.

He had been needing a project to keep him occupied—one that did not require physical strength. This was a good one. At that moment, he vowed to find out where it was that Henry was going. One thing he remembered about his people was that auctions were an Amish man’s favorite form of entertainment. It was rare for an Amish farmer to miss out on a good local auction. He decided he would go to every auction he could find, hoping to run into him and hopefully strike up a friendship. Henry had never been a complicated man. The same topics he’d enjoyed as a young man—baseball, good food, pretty women, favorite beers, and fine horseflesh—were probably still topics he would enjoy discussing. An
Englisch
man with a decent knowledge of any one of these things could probably easily win Henry’s friendship—and it could possibly result in some confidences being shared. He hoped so and would do his best. He didn’t have much use for a man whose wife had to beg to feed her children.

“Y
ou are
Englisch,
” Claire said when she showed up on his doorstep on Monday afternoon with a basket over her arm.

That was an odd statement, coming from her.

“I am.”

She seemed nervous. “Would you be willing to do a small favor for me?”

“Of course,” he said.

“At church yesterday, I heard that our neighbor, Jeremiah Troyer, is ill. I am worried about him. He is my Levi’s grandfather and he lives alone on the other side of our . . .”

“I know who Jeremiah Troyer is.”

“Oh, good. I have made him a basket of food, but he will not take it from my hand or Levi’s.”

“Why won’t he?” Tom knew the answer, but he wanted to hear what she would say.

“It is hard to explain, but I will try. When my son was banned from our Swartzentruber church, I was expected to ban Levi from my life, also. I could not do that. Especially since he was innocent of the thing of which he was accused. Instead, I accepted the sting of the
Meidung
of my own church and joined with the Old Order Amish so that I could freely fellowship
with him. It was not an easy change, and I gave up many friendships, but it was the right thing to do. Now I am banned from ministering to my neighbor unless it is a true emergency. I know it is a hard thing for you to understand, but it is our way.”

If you only knew, Tom thought, if only you knew how well I understand. He decided to play along. “Why would he take it from my hand and not yours?”

“Because you are
Englisch
and you do not count.”

Oh, the bluntness of the Amish. He almost laughed. Of
course
he didn’t count. He was
Englisch
!

She seemed blissfully ignorant of how rude her comment sounded. “The food will need to be taken to his springhouse. Jeremiah has no other refrigeration, and this chicken and dumplings will not keep for long without it.”

“I understand. I’ll do it.”

She looked at him with those innocent blue eyes that he remembered so well. “Thank you.”

“One question, Claire. If Jeremiah has shunned you, why do you feel the need to care for him?”

“Even after Matthew died, Jeremiah was kind to me for a very long time, and he liked my chicken and dumplings so much,” Grace said. “This is my way of letting him know that I care for him still, even if I am not allowed to set foot over his doorstep.”