Wonderful Lonesome (36 page)

“Look after his grave for me. Don’t let it grow over.”

“I won’t.”

Ruthanna handed the baby to her mother and opened her arms once again to the friend who had never let her down, regretting that her decision could not but disappoint the settler with the greatest enthusiasm for the venture they had all undertaken. But her daughter needed to be enfolded into dozens of faithful waiting arms, not to grow up with a mother too burdened by farm chores to look after her properly.

When she kissed Abbie’s cheek, she tasted the salt of tears.

Willem did not rush Abbie. They watched the train chug out of sight, and still he held his pose and awaited her readiness to turn toward the buggy. If they had been alone, rather than standing on a public railroad platform, he would have wrapped his arms around her and welcomed a release of her grief. Only when an oncoming whistle announced the next impending shuffle of passengers did she pivot and march to the buggy.

Willem helped her up to the bench, unhitched the horse, and took up the reins. She sat beside him silent and straight backed, staring straight ahead. Willem navigated away from the bustle of the train station and through the streets of Limon to the road that would gradually narrow into the route that led to the Amish farms. He drove for several miles, occasionally glancing at her unyielding posture.

“I want you to meet someone,” he said at last. “It’s on the way home.”

“I’ve just said good-bye to my best friend.” Abbie’s tone snapped, but she did not turn her head.

“I know. But soon enough you’ll have to make your own decision, and this could help.”

“You mean you think I should get on with my life, too.”

“I mean,” he said carefully, “that you should know what choices you have.”

“Is this about that
English
job?”

He nodded.

“I’m not ready.”

“Your father listed his property with a land agent yesterday and has already struck a deal for his cows. If you have any hope of deciding for yourself, rather than letting circumstances dictate, you should let me introduce you to this family.”

“Whatever happens will be God’s will. If I wait and the job is gone, it will still be God’s will.” Not only did Abbie refuse to look at him, but she turned her head with deliberation in the opposite direction.

Willem slowed the horse so there would be more time to talk before the turnoff. “And if you meet the family today and you like them, that would also be God’s will. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He saw the twitch in her shoulders and knew she was softening.

“I’ll just introduce you,” he said. “If you don’t want to do more than say hello, look at me and blink twice. I will politely excuse us, and we will be on our way.”

She whirled on him. “You have this all figured out, don’t you?”

He cranked his head away and allowed himself a quick smile. When the lane came up on the left, he made the turn.

When Abbie agreed to go inside the house with Mrs. Wood, Willem waited outside. Abbie was not sure whether to be furious or relieved. The kindness in Louise Wood’s face had undone her. Willem must have known it would. Apparently the moment had passed to blink twice and be whisked out of a circumstance she felt ill equipped to meet.

The ranch house sprawled more than any of the Amish homes, but Abbie supposed the ranch itself also was better established. From the outside, even her untrained eye could discern the outline of the original house and the slight change in the width of the siding where a wing was added to one side. Inside, one foot now detected a slight ridge in the flooring under a long runner carpet as Mrs. Wood led Abbie to a comfortable sitting room. The original parlor had been converted to a music room featuring a grand piano. Otherwise, though, the house was modestly furnished, and Mrs. Wood’s high-necked dress was made of a muted green calico that had seen regular washings for at least two years.

“May I make you a cup of tea?” Louise gestured for Abbie to take a seat.

“I don’t want to be any bother.”

“It’s no bother. I was about to have some anyway. The kettle is already on.”

Abbie smiled. “Then I would love some.”

“I’ll see if I can rustle up some cookies as well. I won’t be but a minute.”

When Louise left the room, Abbie leaned forward in her chair to see if she could see out the window across the room. Willem had his back to the house while he ran his hand down the horse’s long nose. For better or for worse, she was inside now and he was out of blinking range. She looked around the room, and her eyes settled on a photograph of a stiff trio. Between a man and a woman sat a little boy. Abbie peered at the picture for clues as to its age. But she was unfamiliar with photographs in general. The Amish avoided them. She did not actually know anyone who had ever sat for a photograph.

Apparently now she did, because the woman in the picture clearly was Louise Wood.

“Here we are.” Louise returned with a tray bearing a plate of sugar cookies and two tea cups. She set it on a table beside Abbie.“I’m so glad Willem introduced us. We’re sure to have a delightful chat.”

The warmth in her tone melted Abbie.

Louise handed her a cup. “Willem tells me you have a little brother about my son’s age.”

“Yes. Levi is eight.” Abbie did her best not to jiggle the cup.

“Now that’s a nice strong biblical name. Of course, Abigail was quite a woman of courage in the Bible. I’m sure you’re well named.”

Abbie took a sip of tea. “What is your son’s name?”

Louise laughed. “I’m afraid it’s Melton Finley Wood IV. Much too much name for a little boy, but you can see the strength of the family tradition. We call him Fin.”

“I like that.”

“He’s not a difficult child. Quite sweet in temperament, actually. But he is a bit rambunctious and used to life on the ranch. The doctor says we must keep him quiet for at least three more months.”

“What does he enjoy?”

“He doesn’t seem to like to read on his own, but he does like to be read to.”

As Louise launched into describing her son, her eyes lit and her cheeks softened. Within a few minutes Abbie was eager to meet Fin for herself, already sure she would like him.

Keeping a recuperating
English
child entertained by feeding his mind was not so different than Noah Chupp’s making shoes for
English
children. Abbie was certain she could do a good job. Still, staying behind when her family returned to Ohio for a reason other than marriage was a drastic decision.

By late morning on Monday, Abbie had scrubbed two piles of clothing against the washboard on the back porch and hung pants and shirts on the line strung between metal poles behind the house. In the middle of October, with temperatures more bearable than July, August, or even September, most days were still cloudless and the air free of any whisper of moisture. The clothes would dry and she would be back in the yard to collect them as soon as the lunch dishes were cleared.

Unless the train had run into trouble, Ruthanna was home by now.

Home
.

Could Pennsylvania feel like home again after the substance of Ruthanna’s married life had unfolded in Colorado? Abbie turned the question over in her mind as she carried the thickly woven basket, now empty, to the back porch. Even though she had not married, Abbie had fallen in love in this drought-ridden state. Even if she could not marry Willem, he held her heart. Would any other place ever feel like home?

She missed Ruthanna. Mary Miller was a good friend, but the bond Abbie shared with Mary was thin and crackly compared to Ruthanna’s intimacy with the desires that lined the corners of Abbie’s heart. Her eyes warmed with sudden tears, and Abbie wanted to be alone. Instead of pulling open the back door and going inside to help with lunch, she strode across the yard to the barn. It would have to do for now, just long enough to corral the emotions that threatened to spill through her day. Inside the barn, Abbie reached for a horse blanket on a shelf before marching to the empty stall at the back of the structure. The straw in this unused retreat was not fresh, but it was reasonably clean. She spread the blanket, sat, pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face in the folds of her skirt. Breathing with deliberation, she tried to form her thoughts into prayer. The words wriggled away without taking shape.

Abbie lifted her head when she heard the voices approaching. One was
Dead
‘s. The other she did not recognize. They spoke English, not Pennsylvania Dutch. Abbie crawled across the straw and peered around the opening of the stall.

“The barn seems solidly built.” The strange man knocked on the barn wall. “That will help us set the highest price we can hope for.”

“Of course I want to get a good price,” Ananias said. “But I also want to sell quickly. I believe I have a realistic expectation of the market in the price I seek.”

“Yes, there are several similar properties available right now—as you well know, since some of them were Amish farms. In any event, I think we can present your land in an attractive way.”

“Do you have the papers you wish me to sign?”

“Right here in my satchel.”

Abbie sat back on her haunches and let her shoulders sag. The land agent.

“I have spoken to a few people about equipment and animals,” her father said. “I thought selling those items separately would be my best hope for cash to move my family.”

“That is wise, I’m sure. I don’t believe any buyers would assume the sale of anything but the land and the house and barn. But if you have difficulty, let me know. We might hasten a sale by enhancing what we include in the price.”

“I am anxious to raise enough cash for train tickets. I want to be home before winter.”

Home
. There was that word again, coming from her own father’s mouth. Even Ananias Weaver did not think of his Colorado land as home. Abbie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and waited for the men to withdraw through the barn door.

The day was one of the longest Abbie could remember. She managed pleasantries with her family over lunch, folded the laundry, sat with Levi as he practiced his reading, cleaned the chicken coop, and mopped the kitchen floor. Supper was somber. By then the entire family, including Levi, knew that Ananias had reached an agreement with the land agent. It was hard for Abbie to know what any of her brothers thought. If Reuben or Daniel disagreed with their father, they hid it well. Neither did they avow support for the plan to return to Ohio. Levi remembered little about living anywhere but Colorado, but in time he would likely have only vague memories of his childhood here.