Wonderful Lonesome (40 page)

Eight.

That was how many people entered Jake’s sitting room for a worship service.

Jake, Willem, and James and Julia, the Limon couple who had attended an organizing meeting because they once had Mennonite neighbors they liked well.

Theresa Sutton, an unmarried middle-aged woman who took in sewing and who had mended two of Jake’s shirts.

And Albert, Mary, and Little Abe Miller.

When the family of three slipped in the door just before Jake’s opening prayer, Willem forgot to blink as he watched them settle. Little Abe, still several months shy of two, was born on the Colorado plain and could not have any memory of a church service, let alone the self-discipline Amish children learned about sitting still during ponderous twelve-stanza hymns and two sermons. The seating arrangement was informal. Albert and Mary tucked their son between them on a small sofa and both kept a hand on one knee. Gratitude for their presence tingled out of the pores of Willem’s skin.

He was not the only one, not the only Amish to accept Jake’s invitation.

What Abbie would think when she heard what her friends had done Willem hated to consider. Abruptly aware that he was staring at the Millers, he moved his eyes to Jake. A holy hush fluttered through the room as Jake prayed.

Willem began a hymn. Within a few notes everyone but Little Abe was singing.
Where shall I go? I am so ignorant. Only to God can I go, because God alone will be my helper. I trust in You, God, in all my distress
. The small boy forgot his squirming and put one finger in his mouth while he watched the phenomenon. When Willem paused to breathe between phrases, he smiled at Abraham, who buried his face in his mother’s shoulder.

Jake stood up and opened his Bible. He took his text from Colossians 3 and gently reminded the assembly that they were God’s children and called to clothe themselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, and forgiveness.

And love. Above all love.

Jake was a gracious preacher, Willem decided. His words, his posture, his tone of voice, the way he looked each person in the eye—he showed himself to be a shepherd who would leave no sheep out of the fold.

He would be everything Abbie could hope for in a minister. So much had changed in her life in the last few weeks. She needed what Jake could give as much as he did. He could ask her one more time. The worst that could happen was she would say no.

Abbie sat up in bed and felt around the base of the candle for the box of matches. The first match lit on one strike, and she held its flame carefully against the wick until the candle caught. She had been in bed for two hours and unable to keep her eyes closed for more than half a minute at a time. Whether wide eyed in the dark or tight eyed in bursts of determination to sleep, her mind conjured the image of her quilt, its desperate squares yearning for completion and the unity of finding their formation with each other.

Outside Abbie’s curtainless window, the moon was new and dark. The candle could not find even a shadow of light to cast against and only fluttered in the breeze her own movement caused as Abbie pushed back the bed covers and felt the cool wood beneath her bare feet. If she could not sleep and could not relax and could not even pray, she may as well get up and quilt even though it was the middle of the night. She picked up her candle and crept down the stairs into the kitchen. There she lit the lamp on the table and took her quilt from the laundry basket that had becomes its home.

Abbie spread the quilt and fingered the square she had thought of as belonging to the Weaver household. She had prayed so many hours for the trees of life of the other settler families. Now she wondered if she had failed to pray enough for her own.

“I’ll be sorry to miss your wedding.”

Abbie gasped and turned toward her mother’s face still hidden in darkness. “
Mamm!
I thought you went to bed hours ago.” Abbie moved the lamp to light Esther’s form sitting upright in one of the few wooden chairs left in the front room.

Esther shook her head. “I never went up. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to waste my last night here sleeping. I’ve been listening to the coyotes.”

Abbie held still for a moment and listened as well. “Why did you say that about my wedding?”

“Maybe it won’t be Willem,” Esther said. “But I hope there will be someone for you. I hate to think of leaving you here all alone.” Abbie smoothed a hand across Willem’s finished square. “No, I don’t think it will be Willem after all.”

“I’ve been saving some blue yardage for your wedding dress. I always hoped we would make your dress together. I’ll give it to you in the morning with a prayer that you will yet use it.”

“Thank you,
Mamm
.” Abbie’s throat swelled in an instant, and she swallowed back the knot. “Do you really think I could be happy with someone else?”

“I think we all can choose to be happy by receiving God’s blessing. I hope God will bless you, and I hope you will recognize it when He does.”

Abbie stood, picked up her chair, and carried it to the space beside her mother. Sitting again, she leaned her head on Esther’s shoulder and said, “I have something to tell you. I’ve made a decision.”

Dawn pinked the Monday sky and slithered through the windows, but Willem was already awake, dressed, and ready to dispense with the morning chores. This was not a morning to be late. He downed the reheated coffee, collected the eggs, made the rounds in the barn, let the animals into the pasture, and hitched a team to the wagon. The weight his wagon would carry that day—in one direction—warranted the extra horse.

By the time he pulled into the Weaver farm, which had a quieted, desolate appearance, the sky was bright with October brilliance. The bottom trunk in the stack outside the front door sagged under the weight it bore, but the precision of the arrangement suggested Ananias’s work. Perhaps the trunks had been outside all night awaiting conveyance to the train station in Limon. The door opened, and Levi came out and leaned against the pile to fidget with his shoes. Wearing them likely was an unaccustomed sensation for a child with toughened bare soles, but riding the train was not the same as running free on the farm. He would have to wear shoes all the way to Ohio, where it could already be cool enough that Levi would have to resign himself to shoes for the winter.

Abbie was next to emerge from the house. “
Gut mariye
, Willem. I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I offered to take your family to the train.” Willem let himself down from the bench and approached the trunks. “Your
daed
agreed my wagon would accommodate the trunks and passengers more comfortably than your buggy.”

“We would have managed.”

She looked over his shoulder at nothing in particular, as if she did not want to meet his eyes.

“This must be a difficult day for you.” Willem stepped into her line of sight. “It seemed only right for me to help.”

Abbie wrapped her shawl around her shoulders more tightly and turned to look over her shoulder at the open door, though no one appeared.

Willem slapped a trunk. “Levi, do you want to help me start loading?”

Levi banged a hand against the side of one shoe. “I suppose so. But I’m not very strong.”

“Even a small bit of help makes the job easier.”

“You could wait for Daniel or Reuben.” Abbie spoke but still looked away.

She knew he had been to the Mennonite service, Willem realized, and today she was bidding her family farewell. Still, her mood was off. There was something she did not want him to see in her face.

At the train station, Abbie reached for Levi’s hand, and to her relief he did not resist the gesture. He stood with her while Willem helped the rest of her family check their baggage with the porter.

“You’re not going to love that
English
boy instead of me, are you?” Levi looked at his shoes as he asked the question.

“He’s a sweet child,” Abbie said, “but he is not my little
bruder
.”

“I still wish you would come.”

She stroked the back of his head now. He was getting so tall. “I know.”

“You can visit. I’ll ask
Daed
to send you the money for a train ticket.”

Abbie doubted very much her father would consent to the request, but she held back from twisting Levi’s earnest hope. “We can write letters.”

“I won’t know your address when you move.”

“Silly. I’ll send it to you.”

“You don’t know our address. We don’t have one yet.”

“
Mamm
will send it to me. And I know the addresses of our grandparents and all our aunts and uncles. They will always know where to find you.”

Levi shrugged, unconvinced.

Abbie glanced at their family. Willem was shaking hands with them one at a time.
Mamm. Daed
. Daniel. Reuben. Then he hung back. Abbie realized she was holding her breath. She raised her eyes toward Pikes Peak, seeking a prayerful reminder of why she had chosen a path that would separate her from the people she could barely imagine living without.

What would happen if she watched the train pull away and changed her mind? She had a few chickens and Rudy’s assurance he would keep her in milk and cheese. Louise would pay her in cash, but only twice a month.

She sniffed back the drip easing out of her nose as Esther opened her arms. When her mother’s embrace closed around her, Abbie caught a sob before it left her chest. She kissed both her mother’s cheeks and tasted the tears she had not seen. Daniel and Reuben nodded stiffly when she caught their eyes over Esther’s shoulder.

Ananias shuffled toward her. “Abigail, I pray you find God’s peace in your decision.”

“
Danki, Daed
.” Thank you. She looked into his eyes and dared to hope.

Ananias put one hand to her cheek. “Good-bye, daughter.”

He broke the gaze before Abbie could manage words again and pivoted toward the waiting train.

“Come, Levi. It’s time to go.”

Abbie constrained her emotions and watched her family file up the steps into the train. Glare on the wide windows of the passenger car sliced them from her sight as soon as the last one—her father—turned toward the bank of seats. Nevertheless, Abbie stood on the platform and waited for the whistle, followed by the roar of the engine devouring fuel and the thud of doors slamming shut as railroad employees secured one set after another. Finally the great wheels began to turn. Abbie’s shoulders heaved in rhythm as the train gained steam and chugged out of the station.

She paused for a moment to compose herself before turning to face Willem. The moment would have been easier if others had come to see her family off, but she was fairly certain her father had spurned the notion of a fussy farewell. From the day he announced the family would leave, Ananias had been sparse with his social gestures and reluctant to allow distraction from his methodical march toward departure. Now she might not be able to hide the disappointment that shuddered through her from this man who knew her so well.

Abbie smelled the scent of Willem. He had left his discreet post and now stood behind her. She pivoted slowly.