Wonderful Lonesome Read online

“You must not let your mind dwell there,” Willem said.

  Abbie shrugged. “I’m trying not to. I’m trying to be grateful. In fact, Mary asked me to invite everyone for a meal tonight. She and Albert want to give thanks for Little Abe’s safety by being with all the families.”

  “Everyone?”

  Abbie began to wipe off the stove. “I drove around half of creation this morning making sure everyone is invited. I hope they will come.” She paused to look at him. “I hope you will come.”

  Willem wiped crumbs from the table and into one hand but then was not sure what to do with them. “It is a good thing to be grateful.”

  “It will be almost like having a church service. We might have to sit on the ground, but we can be together. We can pray. We will share our food, just like we used to do after church. We can even sing our hymns. It will cheer everyone’s hearts to hear the harmonies and ponder the words of God’s greatness.”

  When she put it so simply, Willem could hardly argue. He often hummed from the Ausbund as he worked, and his ears ached to hear surrounding voices fill in melody and harmonies. The gathering itself was not what caused him to hesitate. Rather, it was that the common meal would feed Abbie’s hope for a true Amish church when the likelihood had become all but impossible. And Willem’s presence, in particular, might stir a hope that they once again were of one heart.

  Abbie rinsed out the rag and started on the table, scrubbing in preparation for polishing. As rugged as his table was, she was persistent in coaxing out the best sheen it could offer. She wanted to wheedle the best out of everything. It was one of the reasons he loved her, but every day brought reasons to reconcile reality with hope. The table would never be what she wanted it to be, and neither would the church.

  Willem stood up and dropped the crumbs in his hand into the slop bucket that would go to the chickens.

  Abbie stopped scrubbing and turned her pleading brown eyes to him. “Please come.”

  Willem gave a one-sided smile, still unable to resist that expression even when he knew their future was in doubt. “A man has to eat.”

  With her unfolding fingers buried in the yardage of her dress, Ruthanna ticked off the weeks. She had only seen the doctor in Limon once, preferring to let Esther Weaver monitor her pregnancy. As long as there were no unusual symptoms, Esther said, Ruthanna had no reason not to expect a healthy delivery. The child turned and kicked and rested at intervals that assured Ruthanna all was well. By her best count, she had six more weeks.

  At least the sun was not quite as scorching as it had been a few weeks ago. While the days still elongated in summer fashion, the height of the afternoon temperatures dropped a degree or two each day. Still, it was hot, and Ruthanna was tired of being hot, tired of lumbering around in a body that was less recognizable by the day, tired of not sleeping because she could not find a comfortable position, tired of fearing her restlessness would disturb Eber.

  Abbie made sure Ruthanna had a chair and a plate of food. Two or three families had loaded benches into their buggies and arrived ready to share seating. Several of the families did not see each other often, and the shared meal on the Miller farm sparked conversation to catch up on family news while children and young people relished being with people their own age.

  Not everyone came, though, and Ruthanna saw the disappointment written on Abbie’s face.

  “I notice that the Yutzys have not come.” Millie Nissley glanced around as she settled on the bench next to Abbie. “I didn’t think they would.”

  “Why shouldn’t they?” Abbie’s voice carried a note of stubbornness Ruthanna knew well. “Perhaps they are simply delayed.”

  “I don’t think we’ll see too much more of them.” Mrs. Nissley pushed a fork through a potato.

  “Why would you say that?” Abbie demanded.

  “Amelia Yutzy never wanted to come in the first place. Her children are not much older than Little Abe. She worries about them night and day out in this wilderness.”

  “It’s not really a wilderness,” Ruthanna offered. “We’re all still getting our feet under us. Even farming in Ohio is not without challenges.”

  Mrs. Nissley swallowed a bite and stabbed another. “She wants to go home. I think her husband is going to agree very soon.”

  Ruthanna flicked her eyes toward Abbie, who paled just as Ruthanna expected.

  “I think perhaps I should be going.” Ruthanna balanced her plate in one hand and stood up.

  “But you hardly touched your food,” Abbie said, “and we haven’t started singing yet.”

  “I know. But I don’t like leaving Eber.”

  “I’m sorry he didn’t feel well enough to come. I’ll fix a plate of food for you to take him and get Reuben to drive you home. I don’t want Eber to feel left out.”

  Ruthanna nodded, grateful for the detail of Abbie’s ministrations. For now it was easiest to let others think Eber was simply tired and that a woman in her condition would be more comfortable at home.

  Abbie waved good-bye to Ruthanna as Reuben pulled the Weaver buggy away from the other buggies and wagons lined up along the fence. She wanted to hold this vision as long as she could. They could have gathered like this long ago, buggies and horses announcing they were one body and children’s voices lifting toward a future when every other Sunday morning would bring the families together. There was no reason to wait for a crisis like Monday night before being grateful and enjoying true Christian fellowship.

  Esther and Mary were collecting plates to carry into the house to wash. Albert sat on a bench, leaning forward on his knees watching his son play in the dirt. Abbie spied Daniel pairing off with Lizzie Mullet to stroll outside the circle.

  Abbie sat in the empty spot between Willem and Rudy on a bench. She nudged each of them with one elbow. “In church one of the men always starts the singing. It wouldn’t be proper for me to do it.”

  Rudy gestured that Willem should begin, and Willem deferred to Rudy.

  Abbie exhaled. “I know it shows humility when the men suggest another should go first, but please, you both have beautiful voices, so couldn’t one of you just start singing?”

  Willem cleared his throat. He had only sung a few bars when Rudy joined. The swell of eager voices rolled over the gathering in cool refreshment. Even after all this time without regular church services, the words welled with confidence. Abbie joined, though the knot of gratitude in her throat produced a scratchy sound. Around her the harmonies fell into place.

  Where shall I go? I am so ignorant. Only to God can I go, becauseGod alone will be my helper. I trust in You, God, in all my distress. You will not forsake me. You will stand with me, even in death. I have committed myself to Your Word. That is why I have lost favor in all places. By losing the world’s favor, I gained Yours. Therefore I say to the world: Away with you! I will follow Christ.

  The wind flapped the hem of Abbie’s skirt and caused her to reach for her prayer kapp and make sure it was secure. She kept singing, but she saw the glances around the circle. The wind abruptly became fierce and dumped its chill over the gathering. The temperature plummeted in an instant. Women dashed to keep food from blowing over and reached for hands of small children. Men hastily loaded benches.

  Abbie had hoped for more than one hymn. The plain had stolen the moment. Next time, she thought, she would arrange for the shared meal to be held inside someone’s barn. Rudy’s was the largest. There would be a next time.

  As soon as Rudy milked his last cow in the morning, he harnessed a horse to the buggy and trotted toward Martin Samuels’s farm. Over a plate of roasted potatoes and boiled green beans with a chunk of salted pork at the Millers’ gathering, Martin had asked Rudy to come look at a cow that was behaving poorly. Rudy liked to evaluate cows early in the day, after the night had dissipated body heat and before the animals had time to take on a new day’s fever.

  Wind had howled overnight, drowning out even the coyotes, and Rudy saw the effects. Loose thistle huddled agains
t every fence he passed. Even weeds that withstood summer’s blasts now bent in disarray. As soon as he finished with Martin’s cow, Rudy planned to climb on his own roof and make sure his shingles remained secure.

  Rudy turned on the road that would take him to Martin’s land and began to watch for the collection of outbuildings. The house itself was small, but Martin had a good-sized barn and a shed he had built only last year out of odds and ends of lumber. Rudy slowed as he approached the compound, confused at the absence of the shed. Where it should have stood, he saw an exposed pile of lignite beside an open wagon.

  Then Martin charged out of his barn with a shovel, not bothering to lift his eyes, and attacked the pile. With the shovel’s point, he alternated between transferring coal to the wagon and knocking aside the splinters that had been his shed only the night before.

  Rudy slowed his horse and narrowed his eyes. When he was close enough, he spoke.

  “Martin.”

  Widower Samuels snapped his head up.

  “I’m sorry about your shed.” Rudy surveyed the scattered remnants. “That wind was mighty fierce.”

  “Yes, it was.” Martin threw another shovelful of coal into the wagon.

  And then the inconsistency rolling around in Rudy’s mind fell into place. “Where did the coal come from, Martin?”

  “The ravine, of course.”

  “Directly?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Rudy tightened the reins to keep his horse from drifting. “I thought you had not dug any coal yet.”

  “How else would I get it?” Martin stopped shoveling, but neither would he meet Rudy’s eye.

  “Thirty men a day dig in the ravine. Even the English remarked they have not seen you. We have been concerned you might not be prepared for the winter.”

  “As you can see, I have a good start on what I need.” Martin adjusted the hat on his head.

  Rudy moistened his lips, wishing a conclusion made sense other than the one foremost in his mind. “Martin, is that Willem Peters’s missing coal?”

  Martin dropped the shovel. “I appreciate that you came to see my cow. I’ll show you where she is.”

  There were no elders to consult, no bishop to report to. Rudy had his doubts about whether Willem was doing right by Abbie, but he deserved to know what happened to a day’s hard labor.

  “I’d better come back another time.” Rudy started to turn his rig around.

  “My cow could go down if you don’t help.”

  “I suspect I’ll be back soon enough. In the meantime, make sure she’s taking enough water.”

  Martin kicked his boot at the coal. Rudy did not look back.

  Willem nodded his thanks as Abbie set a plate of hearty breakfast in front of him. Three biscuits, four scrambled eggs, and chopped fried potatoes mirrored the plate in front of Reuben. When she asked, Willem said he already had his breakfast, as Reuben did when the family had breakfast together, but neither declined her offer of another plate of food before they left the farm together to dig coal. Though she would pack food for them to take, she doubted either would stop to eat again until supper. Willem and Reuben paused for silent prayer, and Abbie held still as well. When Willem opened his eyes, he smiled at her.

  “Kaffi?” she said.

  “Please.”

  She had a hard time not meeting his green eyes. A few weeks ago they would have had an entire conversation in a room full of people just with chaste glances and turns of the head. Now she guarded her hope, and it was all because of Jake Heatwole. In her mind, Abbie turned the question in every direction but refused to be the one to give voice to the heaviness between them. If she asked about Jake and Willem’s intention, and he said only what he had said in the past, her heart would sink yet again. And if he leaned more distinctly toward Jake, she would have to run from the room. When Willem made up his mind, he would tell her, and she would either shed her tears or let her heart burst in rejoicing.

  She poured coffee for both Willem and Reuben and nudged a small pitcher of cream toward Willem, knowing he would pour generously from it.

  The knock on the front door startled her. She paced through the house and returned a moment later with Rudy behind her.

  “I believe I have found your coal,” Rudy said.

  Willem took the time to unhitch his wagon only because he wanted to cut across the network of Amish farms in a direct route to Martin Samuels’s house as close to a gallop as possible. The wagon would only slow him down.

  “Wait.” Abbie pulled at his elbow as he unfastened the hitch.“Maybe there is an explanation. Give Martin a chance.”

  Willem sighed and stared into her dark eyes. At times her perpetual optimism was beyond his words. “Abigail, you heard what Rudy just said.”

  “Don’t go in anger. Cool down first.”

  “And by that time will there be any evidence on the widower Samuels’s farm of that coal?” He pulled out of her grasp and saddled his stallion. By now the entire Weaver family stood with Rudy in the yard. Willem did not look back at any of them as he pressed his heels into the stallion’s sides.

  Martin Samuels was stacking broken slats of wood along the side of the barn when Willem reined up beside him.

  “I see Rudy wasted no time.” Martin dropped another slat onto the pile.

  “I see Rudy was right,” Willem countered. A load of coal, a quantity that would have fit nicely in his wagon, was divided between a pile on the ground and the bed of Martin’s wagon. “No one ever saw you digging, Martin. Not a single time.”

  “We still have long hours of light. No one could be at the ravine every moment of every day.” Martin closed the gap between the barn and the coal.

  Still on his horse, Willem followed Martin. “You have been a subject of much conversation. We were all concerned. Even Eber tried to dig before he fell ill again. But no one ever saw you.”

  “Perhaps I bought it from someone digging for profit. You are not the only one who does so.”

  Willem shook his head. “A man digging for you would have mentioned it amid our concern. And you led Rudy to believe you had been digging yourself.”

  “I will run my business, and you will run yours.”

  “Martin,” Willem said, his jaw tight, “if you needed help, all you had to do was ask. You know that. You did not have to steal my coal.”

  “All coal looks alike.” Martin turned his back to Willem. “You cannot possibly prove that this coal is yours.”

  “Why should I have to?” Willem’s tone took on an edge. “Confession and forgiveness would be a more peaceable way to resolve matters.”

  “I do not owe you an explanation.”

  “It is no coincidence that the collapse of your shed in a windstorm is the first anyone knows of your coal supply.”

  “Can’t you go any faster?” Abbie gripped the bench of Rudy’s buggy.

  “This gelding is as old as the hills,” Rudy said, “and I’ve already pushed the poor animal to race from Martin’s place to yours. I thought I was just going to look at a sick cow or I would have brought a team.”

  Abbie exhaled and let her shoulders slump.

  “Don’t worry,” Rudy said. “Willem is not going to hurt Martin.”

  Abbie remembered the look in Willem’s face the day he dragged Reuben home after the coal went missing. If he had been that angry with Reuben, he would be much more angry with the culprit of the crime. Crime. She hated to even think of using that word in connection with any of the Amish settlers.

  “Don’t you know a shortcut?” Abbie kept her eyes straight ahead, watching for any turnoff that might speed their journey.

  “I said I would take you.” Rudy glanced at her. “But if you want to do something helpful, I suggest prayer for a demonstration of love and forgiveness.”

  Abbie nodded. “In my distress I cried unto the Lord, and he heard me. Deliver my soul, O Lord, from lying lips, and from a deceitful tongue.” She murmured the words of Psalm 120. />
  When they finally pulled into the widower Samuels’s yard, Abbie was relieved to see both Willem and Martin standing upright, though Martin had his feet spread and his hands on his hips as he glared at Willem. The buggy swayed to a stop beside them.

  Rudy closed a hand gently around her wrist. “Stay here.”

  Abbie did not protest as Rudy slid his hand down and encircled her fingers, but she did not take her eyes off of Willem.

  “Can you stand before God and declare that you did not take my coal?” Willem said.

  Abbie sucked in her breath.

  Martin crossed his wrists behind his back. “A few minutes ago you were suggesting confession and forgiveness. Now you sound like an English court.”

  Willem stepped toward Martin. “The way of confession is always open. This has been a difficult year for all of us. We must try to understand and encourage each other.”

  Martin picked up a piece of coal and threw it into his wagon. “I will drive the coal to your farm. You can follow me to make sure I don’t take off with it.”

  Abbie looked from Willem to Martin, who still had not admitted wrongdoing.

  “Keep the coal,” Willem said, “but come with Reuben and me to the ravine today to dig. Three men will make the work go faster than two, and you will still have your coal.”

  “I have a sick cow to tend to.” Martin’s voice had dropped to a mutter.

  “No one wants your cow to go down.” Rudy jumped down out of the buggy. “I’ll see to your cow now, Martin.”

  Abbie let her breath out.

  I heard.” Ruthanna gestured that Abbie should follow her away from the house and into the open yard. “News like that gets around fast.”

  “I didn’t think you had left your farm since supper at the Millers’.”

  “I haven’t.” Ruthanna’s pace felt like a sluggish elephant even to her.

  “Rudy?”

  Ruthanna nodded. “I don’t think he meant to gossip. By the time he stopped by I don’t think it was a secret anymore. He wanted to know how we are for coal.”