Eli straightened his shoulders as he led the way, first up the slope and then into the trees. Over the last few weeks he’d spent more time with Sadie, wishing he’d see the same spark of life flashing in her eyes that he’d seen the day they first met. But he was thankful to have Sadie’s friendship.
In the garden, Sadie’s voice had quivered when she’d asked him to put down the hoe. Emotion had filled her voice, and he was thankful to hear it.
Eli had mentioned Sadie to his grandfather on the telephone just a few nights ago. He didn’t enjoy standing in the cold phone shed, and he wasn’t going to make a habit of calling home, but he had a few gardening questions that couldn’t wait.
“I don’t understand. It’s like she’s just doing what she thinks she ought to be doing. I’ve seen her fired up a few times. I’ve seen a spark of anger—of humor—in her eyes. But the grief she’s enduring from her parents’ death is still a dark curtain, holding her back. Maybe she’s afraid to care too deeply again—to open herself up to the people around her.”
“Sometimes that happens.” His grandfather sighed.
“But what do I do about it?”
“What can you do except be her friend? And pray for her?”
“But isn’t there something I can say?”
“Eli, you’ve worked in a garden your whole life. You should know that things take time. A planted seed begins the process of growth once you place it in the soil and water it, but this growth can’t be seen immediately.”
Eli remembered his grandfather’s words as he heard the heaviness of Sadie’s breath. She strode along behind him, trying to keep up.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “Am I going too fast?” Eli slowed down.
She shook her head and moved past him, taking the lead. “Ne, look! There he is!”
Just ahead of them, the bear was scurrying up a pine tree. It was a bit wider than the lodgepole pine, and when the bear reached the lower branches, he settled onto one.
They gazed up at him, but the bear’s focus was on something in the distance. He was about the size of her cousin Rachel with dark-brown fur and claws that clung to the tree.
“That must be his safe place.” Sadie’s eyes were bright, her cheeks flush.
They dared to step a little closer, and as they did, a stench grew.
“What is that?” Sadie coughed and waved a hand in front of her face.
Eli gagged. “I wonder if he dragged bags of garbage back there. It smells horrible—like something died.”
Sadie pinched her nose. “It smells like dead fish.”
Eli took a few more steps until he was able to look over a clump of brush and get a good look at the base of the tree. He noticed fish bones and various scraps.
“Looks as if our guy here hasn’t been cleaning his plate.”
“But why does he bring the fish here?” Sadie scrunched up her face.
“It must be a habit—maybe instinct or something his mother taught him.” Chills traveled up his arms. “But cubs usually only act this way when they feel threatened that their lunch is going to be taken away. When they know there is a bigger bear around.”
Sadie’s eyes grew wide. Her jaw dropped. “What? Are you joking with me?”
“I’m not joking. I’m sure I heard that, read that, somewhere. I—”
Eli’s words were interrupted by a movement in the distance. His heart leapt to his throat. He grabbed Sadie’s hand and tugged her.
With quickened steps, he turned and moved toward the road. Partly because he believed it could be true, but mostly because he’d seen a look of fear in Sadie’s eyes. He wanted this to be a fun day. He guessed that scaring Sadie out of her mind wasn’t her idea of fun. Her fingers tightened around his.
They moved side by side until Sadie pulled her hand from his grasp and rushed past him. Another noise like the sounds of rumbling within the brush sounded, and he expected her to cry out in fear as she ran down the hill. Instead, laughter spilled out of her mouth.
“Run! C’mon, Eli.” Her kapp strings trailed behind her, and she giggled as if she was ten again. He followed, and couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t slow down until they reached the dirt road.
When Eli caught up with her, Sadie was bent over, hands on her knees, breathing heavily. His stomach did a flip seeing her there, not because he’d been worried about a bear, but because he realized this moment changed everything.
Over the last few weeks he’d told himself they were just friends. Even as they were planting the garden together, Sadie had been kind but she’d kept her distance.
Maybe the best way to help Sadie get over her grief is to remind her how beautiful life can be, laughter can be.
“Eli.” She glanced up at him, tucked a few strands of blonde hair back in her kapp.
“Ja?”
“I have a question for you. A serious one.”
“What is that?”
“Do you have any idea how fast a bear can run?” She glanced back over her shoulder as if she expected the cub to be following them.
“Does it matter?” he asked. Then he started jogging again, picking up speed. “Just as long as I can run faster than you!”
Her laughter rang out then, deep from the pit of her stomach. Harder than he’d ever heard her laugh, and as Eli paused to let her catch up, his mind wasn’t on the bear cub, their picnic lunch, or strolling over to Alkali Lake. Instead, all he could think about was making Sadie laugh tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after.
THE BUDGET—West Kootenai, Montana
Down a winding dirt road that is full of potholes is a small lake. I’ve heard it said that the locals often go there to view wildlife. A friend and I sat for an hour quietly watching the lake, but we didn’t see one creature, not even a bird. An hour before that, though, we saw the famous bear cub, Goliath. Sometimes what matters is not what you go looking for, but rather what you find when you’re not looking. That’s what my time here in Montana has been like. I’m eager to see what tomorrow brings.
We’ve had a whole mess of rainy days, and that caused the local youth to move their Sunday singing into the Kraft and Grocery. Some of us visiting bachelors sat around and watched them, humming along. Mostly we were there for the pie that was passed around.
At church last Sunday, Jared and Elizabeth Brubacher and family were visiting from Ohio. Lester and Wanda Coblentz came from Dorado Springs, MO. Sad that their vacation was spent indoors keeping dry. As soon as they headed back on the train, the sun came out. Go figure.
The book of Ecclesiastes speaks of sunshine being sweet. Getting up this morning, I have to agree it is. Of course, a few verses later, there in chapter 11, it says that people ought to enjoy every day of their lives. So today I’m also thankful for the rain.
—Eli Plank, the bachelor scribe