The Letters (6 page)

Rose knew embarrassment over having to be tended to in such a way was what fueled Vera’s sharp tongue. She always forgave her. She knew God was calling her to meet this situation with grace. “Do you see how much stronger you’re getting? Dean would have been proud of you.”

“Don’t think I don’t know why Dean did what he did.” Vera pushed Rose’s arm away. “I know you pushed him to the brink. I heard that argument. Everyone did. The whole county could’ve stayed home and heard every word.”

Patience. Patience. We are living in her house.
“So you’ve told me.” Rose was accustomed to Vera’s vinegar and beans, but those sharp words still stung. The thing was—Vera spoke the truth. She had a hard time forgiving herself for that argument, for what happened the next day. Maybe she did push Dean to the brink.

She took Vera’s hand in hers and started bending the elbow, straightening and bending, straightening and bending. Five more, four more, three more. “I have something to tell you. Some good news.” Rose tried to keep her voice as calm as a summer day.

Vera looked away.

“I’ve come up with an idea about how to support my family.”

“It’s about time. I might be land rich but I’m money poor.
And this land is going to Tobe, when he comes home. It’s rightfully his. You can’t expect me—”

Rose lifted a hand to stop another onslaught. “I’ve been praying on this and I think I’ve found a solution. I’ll be able to be home for the children and to take care of you.” She tried to keep the statement flat, to mask the swells of uncertainty inside her.

Vera peered at her with her one droopy side of the face, curious.

“I’m going to start a bed-and-breakfast. An inn. Here at the farm. Convert the basement. You won’t even know guests are here.” In the awkward silence that followed, Rose’s already-shaky confidence plummeted. “I spoke to Bishop Elmo and he gave me his blessing. Of course, I’d like your blessing on it.” She chanced a glance at Vera, who was blinking in surprise, her mouth hung wide open. Rose carefully straightened Vera’s blanket. She was taking this news better than she thought she might. What a pleasant surprise.

“Absolutely not!” Vera shouted.

Naturally, Vera Schrock did not brood upon things of the past, the way some people dwelled on such things, but the old ways of her people still came to mind from time to time, often at unexpected moments. Such as this morning.

Her daughter-in-law Rose did not follow the old ways. The old ways would never have approved of turning a home into a . . . stopping station for strangers. The old ways respected that the Plain people were set apart, that they were not to mingle with the English. The old ways . . . She could go on. And what was the point? No one listened to her. She was always the last to know anything, anyway.

Vera tried to lift a coffee mug and couldn’t raise it an inch off the table. Her chest tightened with sudden despair. Something terrible was happening to her, something she couldn’t fight and simply could not stop. Her right side kept getting weaker and weaker—not stronger like the quack lady doctor promised, after tossing all kinds of pills at her and charging her an arm and a leg. Vera couldn’t get words out the way she used to, but she had them in her head. Lately, her thoughts felt like a tangled ball of yarn. They flitted through her mind like a robin hopping from tree to tree, never staying in one place long. The confused state she often found herself in was occurring more and more often, and she didn’t like the idea of Bethany and those other children—what were their names? the dark-haired girl and those two wild boys?—well, whatever their names were, she didn’t like them seeing her this way.

She was frightened.

Terrified.

At least she was when she remembered.

And then those horrid hiccups would return.

Rose had tried a number of fail-safe cures to stop hiccups that she got from the healer, Sadie something-or-other. She used to be Sadie Lapp, Vera did remember that, but she couldn’t remember her married name. Anyway, last week, she had Vera pinching her nose shut with her two thumbs, and plugged up both ears with her fingers, while Rose or Bethany would pour a glass of water down her throat. Vera stomped her foot when she was close to drowning, and then the glass was taken away. It had worked.

Just thinking of that horrid cure made her even more anxious, and sure enough, those awful hiccups started up.

4

I
f it was going to happen, Bethany just wished it would go ahead and happen. The basement had been cleared out, remodeled, freshly painted. She couldn’t wait to get the furniture moved in and a shingle hung so that Rose’s ridiculous bed-and-breakfast was officially under way. She was sick and tired of giving up her bedroom for strangers. Twice now, she’d had to sleep with Mim in a scrunched-up bed and listen to her whiffling snores all night long. Mim should know that any little thing would wake Bethany. She hardly slept. Too much responsibility weighed on her mind. She was the oldest now, since Tobe had vanished, and she had to take care of everybody.

The man who stayed in Bethany’s room had the gall to come downstairs for breakfast and complain about the loud sound of mooing cows! “Well, we
are
close to a dairy farm,” Rose said. “And this
is
the countryside.”

But the man was not happy. And his “donation” was a mere twenty-five dollars.

To top it off, Mammi Vera heard the man’s complaints about the mooing cows and pitched a fit. No wonder her
grandmother kept having these mini-strokes. She was constantly pitching fits.

And here was another thing: Bethany was growing weary of getting yanked away from whatever she was doing to settle her grandmother down. It took a fair bit of work to calm Mammi Vera. Being her grandmother’s favorite wore her out. She knew the only reason was because she looked so much like a Schrock. The younger ones took after Rose, her father’s second wife.

Bethany didn’t think of Rose as a stepmother but as a real mother. Part of the reason, she supposed, was because Rose didn’t believe in labels that fractured a family and divided them up. She insisted that Bethany and Tobe think of Mim and the boys as siblings, not steps or half. Rose referred to herself as Bethany and Tobe’s mother. She did all she could to keep the family together. Including Mammi Vera.

But mostly, Bethany thought of Rose as her mother because she was always there for her. She was a rock. She was safe.

Unlike her real mother.

Bethany could hardly remember her real mother. It was sad that there were no pictures of her. If Bethany were a bishop, she would change that rule, first thing. She grinned. Imagine that—a woman becoming a bishop. It would never happen! But she would love to have a picture of her mother. She had deserted their family when Bethany was just a toddler.

A few years later, her father married Rose, and Rose became her stepmother. That was the happiest day of Bethany’s childhood. Bethany admired her more than anybody she had ever met. Rose was always thinking of others and she took the brunt of everything, especially her grandmother’s sour tongue, yet she wasn’t beaten down by it. When Mim
complained about the work required to get the basement into shape as an inn, Bethany replied, “But isn’t the point to give Rose a chance? Isn’t that the whole point?”

As close as Bethany felt to Rose, she couldn’t call her “Mom.” In her heart, she had a real mother and, one day, she hoped to find her. To ask her why she left.

Luke and Sammy came galloping through the back door. “Bethany, come see! Galen’s brought over some furniture for the basement.” They galloped back out again.

Hallelujah! If Rose was determined to see this crazy notion through, at least get those strangers out of their house and into the basement.

“You boys quiet down out there!” came a cry from the depths of Mammi Vera’s gloomy bedroom.

“They’re already back outside, Mammi Vera,” Bethany called back. She looked out the window and saw Naomi alongside her brother, Galen, coming up the driveway, in an open wagon filled to the brim with furniture. She wiped her hands on a dishrag and hurried outside.

Naomi waved eagerly when she saw her. It always surprised Bethany that Naomi was so fond of her. There couldn’t be two more opposite girls in all the world over. Naomi was frail and thin and often took to her bed. Bethany was strong, curvy, and had never been sick a day in her life. Naomi was pious and pure and reserved, while Bethany was blunt and outspoken, with a hot temper. Why, hadn’t she nearly spouted off a curse word or two at Jimmy Fisher just yesterday?

And all the while, Jimmy Fisher just watched her with those mischievous eyes, enjoying her outburst. Not at all offended, he had made good on his offer to give her a ride home in his buggy so she could hurry back to Mammi Vera’s side. It was
her job to settle Mammi Vera down after pitching one of her fits that ended in relentless hiccups.

Nonetheless, the buggy ride home did not change Bethany’s opinion of Jimmy Fisher: he was arrogant and cocky just because he was so handsome and charming and likable.

She wondered if he might drop by sometime. She didn’t want him to, but she wondered if he might.

Naomi hopped off the wagon and hurried to Bethany. “My brother emptied out the attic! He brought over extra beds and rugs and tables for the new bed-and-breakfast.”

“Not a minute too soon,” Bethany said. “I can’t handle having strangers in the house. Asking questions and poking around the house. One of them walked right into Mammi Vera’s room yesterday and she screamed bloody murder.”

“She’s always lathered up about one thing or another,” Luke piped up.

Bethany pointed a finger at him. “You respect your elders.” Then she shooed him away. “Get Sammy and make yourself useful. Go help Galen unload the wagon.” She turned back to Naomi. “Come and see how the basement’s starting to take shape. You won’t believe it.”

Naomi followed Bethany to the basement door. It had been divided into two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a living room with a small kitchen. A week ago, after Rose and the boys had emptied everything out and put it in the hayloft, Galen brought a few young fellows from church and they built the interior walls, added drywall, and installed a bathroom and a kitchen, tapping into plumbing that was already there. All in two days. Then Rose and Bethany and Mim painted the entire interior a fresh creamy butter color with white on the woodwork. The place was transformed.

Naomi clapped her hands in delight. “I think this is going to be wonderful, Bethany! And best of all—it means you won’t be moving back to your old town.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Bethany started. “I’ll help Rose get some debts cleared, then I’ll be heading back, for sure.” No doubt.

“I hope not.” Naomi leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Did I happen to see Jimmy Fisher drop you off in his buggy yesterday?”

“That was purely an accident,” Bethany said. She hoped her reputation wasn’t sullied because she had been seen with the likes of Jimmy Fisher. “And it won’t be happening again, I can guarantee you of that.”

“He is awfully good-looking,” Naomi said, blushing a deeper shade of red. “But just so you’re warned, he goes through girls faster than a bag of potato chips.”

What?
What was Naomi implying? Did she think Bethany was sweet on Jimmy Fisher? She wanted to scotch that suspicion. She was just about to say so when the boys burst through the door, carrying a big rug under their arms.

“I’ll go help Galen,” Naomi said.

Bethany instructed the boys to lay the rug straight in the big room—the only room it would fit in. The boys ran outside to bring in some more furniture. Bethany looked around the room. She had to hand it to Rose. It was starting to look less like an afterthought and more like a place someone would want to come to stay. Galen deserved a lot of the credit too. Encouraging Rose, organizing the work to get done. Rose kept insisting that she could manage herself, but Galen ignored her objections and kept at it. She wondered why he was being so kind. She looked out the window, watching
Galen hand something to Rose and tell her something. Rose laughed in response.