Wonderful Lonesome (33 page)

The men returned and dropped onto the quilt. Abbie unpacked the basket.

“We heard about what happened in Limon on Friday,” Willem said.

“Something will work out,” Abbie said. It seemed to her that the banker’s conversation with Ruthanna should have been confidential.

“It sounds as if Ruthanna had no idea how much debt Eber took on to keep the place running.” Rudy wrapped a chunk of pork in a soft slice of bread.

“They lived so frugally,” Abbie said. “I can’t imagine where the money went.”

“Buying hay because they couldn’t grow it. Lumber for fence posts. Turning the shack that was on the land into something they could live in. Building a decent barn.” Willem ticked off his points on his fingers.

Abbie sighed. “I know. But so much money! No wonder Eber would never agree to a hired hand even when he was so ill.”

“Ruthanna will have some decisions to make,” Rudy said.

“She can sell some of the land.” Abbie poured water from a jug into a tin cup and sipped it. “She does not have to farm. There are other ways to make a living.”

A strange horse trotted into the yard with an
English
astride. “Ruthanna Gingerich?”

“She’s not here.” Abbie untucked her legs and stood up. “She’s staying at my family’s home right now. Can I help you?”

He pulled an envelope out of a saddlebag. “She got a telegram. Will you sign for it and take it to her?”

Ruthanna lifted her squirming daughter from the cradle, carried her down to the Weaver kitchen, and took her place at the table. She held the baby upright over her shoulder during the silent prayer before the evening meal. Every day she learned something new about what would soothe the child or what the pitch of her cry might mean, and today’s lesson in mothering had been the discovery that her baby would rather be upright and patted on the back than cradled in the arms and swayed. Ruthanna closed her eyes for a moment in a posture of gratitude she did not feel. But perhaps if she cultivated her habit of giving thanks she might one day feel grateful again.

Ananias intoned, “Amen,” and the family began to pass serving dishes. Beside Levi, Esther closely supervised his portions, insisting that he should put more on his plate than the skinny boy was inclined to do. No matter how many times his family assured him they were not going to starve, Levi tried to conserve food. Abbie had expressed exasperation about this to Ruthanna more than once.

With her free hand, Ruthanna took a bowl of green beans from Daniel and set it next to her plate so she could use the spoon to serve herself. Esther had wrung the neck of a chicken a few hours ago, and Ruthanna took a thigh from the platter and put it next to the beans.

Around her the clatter of passing dishes morphed into the scrape of forks against plates, but Ruthanna did not eat. She patted her baby’s back and jiggled her gently.

Esther caught her eye and said, “Abbie says you received a telegram today. Not bad news from home, I hope.”

“It was from my parents,” Ruthanna said. “They feel terrible that they could not get here for Eber’s funeral, but my mother is coming now.”

Across the table, Abbie smiled. “I’ll be so glad to see her! And it will be wonderful for you to have help for a while.”

“She will arrive on Thursday on a midmorning train.”

“We’ll be delighted to have her stay here with us at first,” Esther said. “I don’t want you to feel rushed to go back to your home before you are ready.”

Ruthanna took a deep breath, hating that the words she prepared to speak would crush her best friend.

“I don’t think I will go back to the house at all.”

Forks stopped in midair. Around the table, eyes lifted toward Ruthanna.

“My mother wants me to come home with her. And I want to go.”

Abbie set her fork down gently. “Of course a visit with your family would do you good. The farm will be here when you get back.”

Tears burned in Ruthanna’s eyes. “I hope someday I will come back to visit you and find a thriving Amish settlement. But I think it’s best if I list the farm with a broker and move back to my parents’ home. We’ll leave on Friday.”

Abbie washed the platter, the last of the supper dishes. She dried it slowly, listening to Ruthanna’s murmuring to her baby in the next room. Abbie slid the platter into its place on the shelf and hung the damp towel over the back of a chair. On her way into the main room, she paused for a moment to lean against the doorframe and twiddle her prayer
kapp
strings while she watched Ruthanna. Despite her tragic start to motherhood, she was learning to know her infant well and responded to the child’s fussing with calm and cooing. Finally, Abbie chose a seat where she could see her friend’s face clearly.

“I know you are not happy with my decision,” Ruthanna said softly. “It breaks what is left of my heart to think of leaving you, but it is right that I go.”

Abbie tucked her hands under her thighs to keep from appearing as agitated as she felt. “Your whole life has changed in ten days. Maybe this is not the time to make such a major decision. You still have the farm and people who care for you.”

“You didn’t hear for yourself what the banker said.” Ruthanna adjusted the baby on her lap so she could look into her eyes and hold both tiny hands. “After so much drought and soil erosion from the wind, the land is barely worth what we paid for it. Eber borrowed against our equity money several times. The last time he tried, the bank turned him down.”

“I’m so sorry. But the rest of the settlers will not let you suffer. You can stay here all winter, if you like. Your animals can stay in our barn. In the spring, Willem and Rudy and my brothers will put your crop in. It won’t always be like this.”

Silence descended. Abbie held her breath.

“My husband died,” Ruthanna finally said, her voice a whisper. “I have a newborn. I have overwhelming debt I knew nothing about. I cannot struggle against reality right now, Abbie. Even if I can sell the farm to get out from under the debt, I will have no money. Please try to understand. My daughter deserves a better start, and I can give her that if I go home.”

“This is home.”

“I certainly hoped it would be. When she is older, I will bring my daughter back and show her Eber’s grave. Promise me you will make sure the marker is laid as soon as it is ready.”

“Of course I will. But you could stay at least long enough to see to that.”

“It would be too hard. The mound would still be fresh and would cut my heart open all over again.”

Abbie’s shoulders sank in defeat. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what it must be like to lose a husband.”

Ruthanna gave a wan smile. “You will have a wonderful life here, Abbie. You want a church here more than anyone else. We all know that and admire it in you.”

Abbie swallowed hard. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“Willem loves you. I hope you know that.”

Abbie nodded. She did know. But did he love her enough?

Ruthanna was up with the baby for a long stretch in the middle of the night. Abbie heard her get out of bed several times and saw her pacing the room with the baby on her shoulder, illumined by the moon. It was no surprise when Ruthanna did not get up for breakfast. Abbie crept out of the room as quietly as she could, pulling her dress and
kapp
off the hook on her way out. She dressed quickly in Levi’s already empty room and went down the narrow stairs to the kitchen. Esther was heating the stove. A bowl of eggs shed of their shells sat on the table. Ananias’s glasses were balanced at the end of his nose as he studied some papers.

Abbie took a large fork from a drawer and began to beat the eggs. “I wish Ruthanna would change her mind,” she blurted.

“I know how much you will miss her,” Esther said.

“She should not make a decision when she is under so much stress.”

“She has to do what she believes is right. It is not for us to judge.” Esther dropped a generous pat of butter into a frying pan, which sizzled immediately.

Ananias cleared his throat. “She made the right decision, Abigail.”

“How can you say that,
Daed
? She hasn’t given the church a chance to help her.”

“We are not much of a church, Abbie. We are barely a settlement.”

“But we can be if it is what we all want.”

Ananias stood and tapped his fingers on the papers on the table. “I have made a decision as well. We will return to Ohio. We will go before the end of the month, before the winter turns harsh.”

“Daed!”

Esther dumped the bowl of eggs into the sputtering pan.

Abbie’s brain tied itself in a knot, incapacitating her tongue. Her mother, silent, stirred the eggs.

“I am responsible for the family’s welfare, Abigail.” Ananias picked up his papers and tapped them against the table to straighten the bottom edge of the pile. “I do not come to this decision easily, but it is in the best interest of all of us if we return to Ohio.”

Abbie bit her bottom lip, choosing her words carefully. “All the reasons we left Ohio are still there. Land is expensive. The county is getting crowded.”

“That is true. But the reasons we came to Colorado are no longer here. The opportunities have not proven fruitful. I cannot afford to give my sons land here, either. If I cannot succeed at farming, neither will they.”

“The winter could bring blizzards of snow to end the drought,” Abbie said. “We could have two good harvests next year.”

Esther took plates off the shelf and put them on the table.

“We also hoped more families would come,” Ananias said. “Daniel is of marriageable age, but we have no young unmarried women.”

“He seems partial to Lizzie Mullet.”

“She is not suitable.”

Ananias’s clipped tone bore growing impatience, but Abbie pushed on. “Why not? She’s seventeen and comports herself well.”

“Her father and I are not of like mind.”

The sentence punched the air out of her. “You mean about whether there is true salvation outside our church?”

“Abigail!” Ananias thumped the table.

Esther stirred the eggs but turned her head over one shoulder. “What is she talking about, Ananias?”

“We will not speak further on that question.”

“Daniel is still young,” Abbie said quietly. She did not need Lizzie Mullet to make her point. “Many of our men wait a few more years to marry.”