As Abe stood near his six-year-old son’s coffin, a feeling of despair settled over him like a heavy fog. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d been right here, watching his wife’s casket being lowered into the grave.
Abe’s nose and eyes burned with unshed tears, and he shifted uncomfortably as his crutches dug into his armpits. Dear God, why did You allow this to happen? Wasn’t it enough that You took my wife? Did You have to take one of my precious kinner, too?
Abe glanced at Gideon, who stood to his left. The boy’s head was down and his shoulders shook, but he made no sound. Abe knew Gideon felt responsible for Willis’s death, and well he should. The boy was supposed to watch both of his brothers, not run off in the woods to look for Josh, leaving Willis alone.
I should have seen that my kinner learned how to swim. Martin warned me that something could happen if they didn’t. Since Martin wasn’t here to teach us how, I should have asked someone else. Abe clenched his fingers around the crutches until they ached. It’s my fault as much as Gideon’s that Willis is dead. I may as well have drowned the boy myself.
Josh, Esta, and Owen clustered around Abe, while Ruth stood to his right, holding Molly in her arms. The little girl would grow up never knowing she’d had a brother named Willis or that she’d had a mother. Truth be told, Molly was fast becoming attached to Ruth. She’d even begun calling Ruth Mammi.
Abe noticed the sorrowful look on Ruth’s face, and his heart clenched. She was no doubt reliving the pain of losing her husband. She’d grown attached to Abe’s children, and he was sure that at least part of her grief was over losing Willis.
He pulled his gaze back to the coffin as the bishop read a hymn. A group of Amish men sang as the pallbearers filled in Willis’s grave. With each shovelful of dirt, a stab of pain pierced Abe’s soul. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Death was a fact of life, and he knew it must be dealt with, but he felt as if God had let him down.
All during the funeral dinner, Ruth kept a close watch on Abe’s children—all except Gideon, who had gone to his room saying he wasn’t hungry and wanted to be alone.
Ruth’s heart went out to the boy, as well as to Abe. She could feel the pain of his loss, as she’d come to care for young Willis, and now she felt as if she’d lost another loved one.
“Would you like me to take Molly for a while?” Ruth’s mother asked as she stepped into the living room where Ruth sat rocking the child.
Ruth shook her head. “If I put her down, she’ll cry. I don’t want to move her until she’s asleep and I’m able to put her to bed.”
Mom shrugged and took a seat on the sofa. “You look exhausted. You really should rest.”
“Mom’s right,” Grace said as she entered the room carrying Daniel. “You’ve been working hard ever since you came here to help Abe and his family. And since Willis’s death, you’ve hardly slept a wink.
“The kinner need me.” The chair squeaked as Ruth continued to rock Molly. How sweet she smelled. How soft and warm she felt. This dear little girl was so innocent and unaware of life’s trials.
“You’ll be no good to anyone if you wear yourself out,” Grace argued.
Ruth patted Molly’s back. “I’m resting now.”
Mom and Grace exchanged glances, but neither said a word. Grace took a seat on the sofa beside Mom and handed her the baby.
“Danki,” said Mom. “I was itching to hold that boppli.” She nuzzled Daniel’s chest with her nose. “You’re sure growing; you know that, little one?”
“Do you think Abe’s going to be all right?” Grace asked, turning to face Ruth. “I saw him talking with Dad during the meal, and he’d hardly eaten a thing.”
Ruth sighed. “Abe’s been through a lot. First losing Alma, having his sister move back home, breaking his leg, and then Willis dying. I feel sometimes like I’ve been put through a series of dreadful tests, but it seems I’m not alone in that regard.”
Mom nodded. “You’re right. Troubles come to all, but that’s when we need to grab hold of God’s hand and hang on tight. It’s the only way we can get through the trials life brings our way.” She smiled as she released a sigh. “One thing I’ve learned over the years is that trials can lead us to greater blessings and help us look forward to heaven.”
“If Alma were still alive, she would be able to help Abe through this difficult time. It has to be so hard for him to raise his kinner alone and then be faced with something as horrible as losing one of them,” Grace put in.
Ruth thought about her impromptu suggestion that Abe marry her, and she cringed. What must he think of me for being so brazen? Should I say something—apologize for making such a bold implication? She drew in a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time. It would be better to wait until Abe wasn’t grieving so much. For now, the best thing she could do was take good care of his children.
“That was one of the saddest funerals I’ve ever been to,” Martha commented from her seat at the back of her father’s buggy. “Sure don’t know how Gideon’s going to deal with the loss of his brother.”
“Gideon?” Dad said sharply. “What about Abe? Didn’t you see how much he was hurting? He barely said two words today, and I couldn’t get him to eat a thing.”
“Abe and his family will miss little Willis, but Ruth will be there for the kinner. And you’ll be there for Abe, same as you were when Alma died.” Mom reached across the seat and patted Dad’s arm.
He nodded. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t help him if he won’t talk to me.”
“Give him time. He’s still in shock over losing Willis.”
“It was good to see so many of our English neighbors at the funeral, wasn’t it?” Martha asked.
“Jah, and your aunt Rosemary, too,” Dad said.
Martha smiled. She was glad Dad and his sister had patched things up.
“I had thought the Larsons might be there today,” Mom said. “But I guess Donna had a headache, and Ray had some kind of appointment in town.”
Dad shrugged. “Not all from our Amish community were there, either. That’s just the way of it sometimes.”
Martha thought about Luke, since he’d been one who hadn’t attended the funeral. For that matter, he hadn’t been at Martin’s funeral or Alma’s, either. Was it possible that he had an aversion to funerals? Or did he think it was best to stay away since he was still going through rumschpringe and hadn’t joined the church? Luke had told Martha once that his parents and the church leaders were after him to settle down and make a decision about getting baptized and joining the Amish church. Martha didn’t understand why he kept putting it off. She’d joined the church soon after her sixteenth birthday and had no regrets. She couldn’t help but wonder if Luke planned to leave the Amish faith. But if that were true, why hadn’t he already? What was he waiting for?
“Ach! Someone’s horses are out,” Mom shouted as they rounded the bend near their home and found several horses trotting down the road.
“Those animals are mine!” Dad halted the horse and handed the reins to Mom.
“What are you going to do?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“I’m getting out so I can round up the horses.”
“Without a rope?”
“There’s one here in the back,” Martha said. “Want me to help you, Dad?”
“Jah, that’d be good,” he said as he climbed down from the driver’s seat.
Martha grabbed the rope and stepped out, too, while Mom headed their buggy up the driveway.
The next several minutes were chaotic as Martha and her father raced up and down the road, chasing the horses. Dad finally caught one and started up the driveway. “Maybe the others will follow,” he called to Martha.
She waved her hands and blocked one of the mares from going the opposite way. She finally got the animal to follow the gelding Dad was leading. After that, the other four horses trotted in behind, and Martha took up the rear in case one of them tried to head back toward the road.
By the time they got to the barn, Martha was out of breath. When she heard Mom holler, her knees almost buckled.
“What’s wrong, Judith?” Dad called.
Mom stood trembling on the grass. She pointed across the yard where more than a dozen chickens lay dead. “Someone’s been here while we were gone, Roman. Look what they’ve done!”
“Go inside and wait there,” Dad called to Mom. He looked over at Martha with a panicked expression. “We’ve got to get the horses put away first thing.”
Martha glanced back at her mother. The poor woman was screaming and waving her hands. “Wh–what about Mom? Can’t you see how upset she is over the chickens?”
“She’ll be all right. Your mother’s a strong woman.” Dad cupped one hand around his mouth while hanging on to the rope with the other hand. “Judith, go into the house and wait for us there!”
Martha wasn’t so sure about her mother’s strength. Each attack they’d suffered seemed to make Mom more jittery than the one before.
“Martha, schnell!” Dad shouted. “We need to get the horses into the corral!”
Martha sent up a prayer on her mother’s behalf and herded two horses through the corral gate while Dad got the other four.
When they were safely inside and the gate had been locked, Dad released a deep moan. “The horses didn’t open that gate themselves. Someone did it on purpose.”