To Love and to Cherish (26 page)

“Yes, Mudder, you’re right.” Still, she took time to add more wood to an already blazing fire. Then she plopped down across from him. Wisps of brown hair escaped her kapp and hung in her eyes. She held up the pie tin. “Are you sure you won’t have another piece?”

He dabbed at his face with his napkin. The blazing fire coupled with the crowd of relatives made for a stuffy, warm room. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Helen fanned herself with a napkin. “It’s rather warm for late November, isn’t it?”

Thomas hid a smile. She compounded the warmth of the fire with her propensity to dash about, always in a hurry. Despite her small stature and rather round figure, she did everything in a rush. His measured approach left him eating her dust. So to speak.

James slapped his mug on the table and leaned back, thumbs hooked on his suspenders. “How is that sow you were having problems with?”

“I had to put her down. The vet said she couldn’t be saved.”

That was all the prompting James needed. They spent the next hour discussing livestock, the price of cattle, and whether it made sense to plant winter wheat, given the downturn in the economy. Time passed much more quickly. At some point Thomas noticed Helen wasn’t in the room anymore. He had no idea when she left.

“I should be going,” he said. “The animals won’t get fed on their own. I truly appreciate your kindness in inviting us to share the holiday with you.”

“I better get on with chores, too. After all this excitement, it will be good to turn in early tonight.” James yawned and stood. “Know you’re always welcome here, Thomas. We have plenty, and we are pleased to share with you.”

His throat tight for some unknown reason, Thomas swallowed and nodded. “I appreciate that.”

Tugging at his gloves, he clomped down the front steps and inhaled the brisk air. When he exhaled, some of the thick, heavy feeling brought on by the warmth of the Daugherty house and all the food he’d eaten went with the air. He liked the cold. It made him feel wide awake.

Something icy and wet smacked his hand. “What?” Startled he held up his fingers, coated with snow. “Who did that?”

Another snowball collided with his shoulder. He whirled in time to
see Helen duck behind the porch’s corner. “Helen Crouch! What do you think you’re doing?”

She trotted away from the house, her face creased with a big smile. “That’s your punishment for trying to leave without saying good-bye.”

Thomas glanced around. They were alone. He swooped down and scooped up a handful of snow, packed it together with both hands, and took aim. Helen ducked. The snowball sailed over her head. Her laugh sounded like the chortle of a young girl. “Missed, missed!”

He tried again, this time making sure he didn’t get anywhere near her. She laughed even harder. He couldn’t help but laugh with her.

She stopped a few feet from him, still smiling. “Could we be any sillier if we were teenagers?”

“It’s the season.” Thomas couldn’t be sure when the holidays had ceased being a time of bittersweet reminiscence and become once again a time of joy. It had taken years, but now he could look forward with anticipation to the holidays. With a sudden reluctance that surprised him, he turned to hitch the horse to the buggy. “But now, I do need to get home and do the chores. The animals don’t know it’s Thanksgiving. I would’ve said good-bye, but I figured you were busy.”

“I’m used to getting things done. No sense in slacking off. Just makes more work later. But I was lax in my duties as your hostess. I apologize.”

Remorse touched Thomas. She needn’t apologize. He had chosen conversation with her father, and she had done the correct thing. Taken care of matters in the kitchen. She had practice being a good daughter, good wife, and good mother. “We enjoyed our visit, Helen.”

Helen slapped her gloved hands together, making a tiny shower of snowflakes fall from them. She smiled up at him. “I think we dirtied every pan in the house making that feast. Can you believe six pies are gone?”

“It was really good pie.” Thomas patted his stomach. Helen cooked well, too. In her, he could see everything he sought in a woman. So why didn’t it feel quite right? Maybe he needed to recognize that practical matters were more important. He couldn’t expect to have the sort of
joyous union he’d had with Joanna a second time. “Now I need to go work some of it off. By the time we get home, it’ll be time to start the evening chores. It gets dark early this time of year.”

“I’m looking forward to the new year myself.” Her breath came in cloudy puffs. “Spring is always a fresh, new start, isn’t it?”

The wistful look on her face touched a sore spot in Thomas’s heart. He understood her loneliness far better than most. He smoothed a hand across the horse’s rump. “I’ve always believed we can make our own fresh, new starts any time of the year. Christmas will be here soon when we celebrate a special new beginning.”

“You’re a wise man.” Helen’s face brightened. “We’ll see you at the children’s Christmas pageant.”

“That you will.” He tightened the harness, aware of her hopeful glance. “Eli and Rebecca both have parts in a skit. They’ve already started practicing.”

“You’ll be helping to build the set, then?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

She took a few steps closer. “I’m sewing costumes for—”

A wail cut the air. A child in distress. “Help! Help us! Mudder! Groossdaddi!”

Before Thomas could react, Helen shot across the hard-packed snow. Despite her flowing skirts and shorter legs, she was the hare to his turtle. Thomas picked up his pace until his long legs ate up the distance between them. It could be Eli or Rebecca hurt or worse. “We’re coming!”

“What is it?” Helen called. “Where are you, Ginny?”

“Here!” Helen’s middle daughter raced up the path that led to a small pond. “It’s Edmond.” She stopped and put both hands on her knees, her breath ragged and panting. “He was skating on the ice and it cracked. He fell in.”

“It’s too early in the winter to be ice skating!” Helen darted past her daughter. “That child has the common sense of a goose.”

She stumbled, fell. Thomas grabbed her arm and tugged her upright. They slipped and slid down the icy path. The trees parted on
the clearing that led to the pond. Helen’s nephew, Michael, sprawled on the ground, his hand outstretched toward Edmond’s. The boy’s lips were already purple. His teeth chattered.

Michael stretched out farther. “It’s too far! The ice is cracking.” He rolled up on his knees. “I can’t reach him from here.”

“We need something—a pole or a branch.” Thomas glanced around, searching. His gaze fell on Eli and Rebecca. They huddled on the shore, their eyes big in white faces. “Look for a big branch, but stay away from the edge of the pond!”

They scattered.

“Here.” Helen rushed at him, dragging a branch almost as tall as she was. “Use this.”

Thomas flattened himself against the ground. He ignored the icy burn of the snow against his neck and cheek and shoved the branch out as far as he could. Edmond’s frightened face stared back at him from the black hole. He clutched at the jagged ice. Thomas pushed the branch as far as he dared. “Take it, Edmond, grab hold!”

“If I let go, I might…” Edmond gasped. “I’ll go under.”

“You have to let go long enough to grab the branch. Come on, you can do it!” Thomas put all his authority into the words. The boy had to believe. His life depended on it. “I’ll get you onto dry land, I promise.”

The boy sobbed once. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Edmond Crouch, do as Thomas says.” Helen’s voice rang with authority. “This second.”

Thomas didn’t dare break the hold of his gaze on Edmond, but the look on the boy’s face told him Edmond always did what his mother told him to do—especially when she employed that tone.

A second later Edmond’s fingers wrapped around the branch.

“Good boy!” Thomas tugged hard with both hands. The sound of Helen’s tortured breathing filled his ears. She couldn’t suffer another loss.
God, please!
In what seemed like an eternity, he tugged the boy forward, slowly, praying the ice wouldn’t break again.

Finally, he dragged him to the shore. Helen squatted and grabbed
her son by both arms. Together, they tugged him onto the packed snow, well beyond the ice. “My son, my son,” Helen muttered.
“Ach
, my son.”

Thomas doubted she even knew she spoke. His lungs about to burst, he remembered to breathe. His heart pounded against his breastbone. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Edmond curled up in a shivering, wet ball. “I’m so cold.”

Helen ripped off her coat and wrapped it around him. “You’re fine. You’ll be fine.” Her voice wobbled, but she tugged her son to his feet. “We’ll get you inside and get you warmed up.”

Edmond leaned into his mother. His whole body shook as he looked up at Thomas. “Danki.”

“Here, take my coat, too.” Thomas shrugged it off. “We need to get you warm.”

Helen waved it away. “It’s a short distance. Don’t get it any wetter than it already is. You’ll need it for the drive home.”

Thomas hugged the coat to his chest. Eli and Rebecca descended on him. He put a hand on each child’s shoulder and squeezed. They were safe and dry, unlike Edmond, whose boots squeaked when he walked. “Are you sure—”

“Let’s get him inside.” Helen didn’t appear to feel the cold or notice her sodden, muddied dress. Her entire being focused on her child. “Everyone inside. I’ll make coffee and cocoa. We need to get you warmed up.”

She glanced back at Thomas. “You’re welcome to stay.” She started up the path before he could respond, her arm around Edmond, who staggered a bit. Ginny, Betsy, and Naomi crowded their mother and brother, holding each other up. Michael followed, the look of relief on his face so intense, Thomas feared the young man would collapse under it.

Thomas squeezed his two children to him for a moment longer, letting the horror of what might have happened fade away. Helen’s quick action had helped to save her son. She masqueraded as a roly-poly hen, but she could be a fierce eagle when it came to protecting her children. She had to be. He admired her stamina. Admiration—could it become more? “Come on, children. We need to get home.”

Rebecca looked disappointed. “No cocoa for us?”

“We’ll have it at home.” He brushed snow and dirt from the coat and slid it back on as he walked. It did little to stop the cold that seeped into every bone in his body. The frigid wind picked up. He glanced at the sky. Where it had been cloudless earlier, dark clouds now rolled across the expanse, hiding the sun. He trudged faster. “Helen, we have to go. It looks as if we might get some more snow.”

She barely acknowledged his words, so obviously intent on getting Edmond inside. Cold and bedraggled, they marched up the path to the house. When they arrived at the buggy, Helen stopped barely long enough to say a proper good-bye. “Your help was much appreciated.”

“I’m thankful we were able to get him out.”

“We have much to be thankful for.” Something in her expression told him she was thinking of the loss she’d already suffered. “I better get him warmed before he catches pneumonia. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

He watched until she closed the door behind her.

A package should never be judged by its wrapping.

E
mma swished the platter in the dishwater and scrubbed it a second time. She handed it to Annie, who dried it and set it next to a large stack of clean plates. “One down, fifty to go,” her sister said, smiling. “I’ll put the kettle on to heat some more water. One thing about so much good food and fellowship, it means so many dirty dishes. Are you sure you don’t want to dry?”

Emma used the back of one wet hand to rub an itchy spot on her nose. The mouth-watering aroma of turkey that had been so alluring earlier still hung in the air, but now it made her feel a little sick. She’d eaten too much. “I like washing. I don’t mind drying, but I like washing better.”

“That’s because you like a challenge. The bigger the better.”

The voice behind her caused Emma to crane her neck around to see Aenti Louise trot into the kitchen lugging another stack of dishes. “I think we dirtied every dish, every pot, every pan, in your Aunt Sophie’s kitchen,” she chortled. “They’ll be eating leftovers for a week.”

“I’m sending the leftovers home with all of you.” Sophie bustled into the kitchen with another pile of dishes. She grabbed a washrag from the counter and headed for the door. “I’ll wipe down the tables.”

Annie took the serving dishes from Aenti Louise and handed them to Emma. “I do like leftover turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy.”

“And pumpkin pie.” Aenti Louise swiped a saucer with an already cut piece of pie on it from the cabinet and sat down in a chair at the prep table. It was her third piece of pie. Where did she put it all? “With ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” Emma laughed. “Next you’ll want pretzels or popcorn. Enough, Aenti. Tell us stories while we work.”

“Salt and sweet, my dear, salt and sweet. But I’d rather hear what you think about your sister’s wedding plans.”

Emma almost lost her grip on a wet, slippery bowl. “She told you?”

Aenti Louise put down her fork and folded her hands in her lap, looking all prim and proper. “Of course not. She has to wait until the deacon makes the announcement on Sunday.”

“Then how…”

“My eyesight may be going, but my hearing is as good as ever.” Aenti Louise adjusted her glasses for good measure. “I overheard Luke and Leah discussing it. They felt Melvin should’ve come to them for permission, but still they sounded pleased.”

Emma dumped two pots into the water. It splashed on her apron and ran down the side of the tub. “Whoops!”

They all laughed. “Are you taking a bath or washing dishes?” Aenti Louise picked up her fork again. “I think they’re pleased that one sister is taken care of. You also seem at ease with her announcement.”

Emma kept her gaze on a gravy-encrusted pot. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Aenti Louise smacked her lips and tossed her fork on the table “Emma Shirack. This is your Aunt Louise speaking. Have respect.”