“Boys, you’re too noisy. Go outside and play. Better yet…” Honor stopped pedaling her sewing machine and looked up.
Freeman’s mother, Ivy, had come to visit while her son helped Luke out with a project. While Honor worked at her sewing machine, Ivy was knitting. The two women had been trying to talk when the boys got too loud. “Get your coats on and go watch Luke and Freeman repairing the chicken house. Learn how it’s done, so that you can mend your own buildings someday. They might even find work for you to do.”
“We want to skate,” Tanner said. “Can you take us to the millpond? I’m going to take my sled.”
“Ne,” Honor replied firmly, glancing down as she lifted the pressure foot of the sewing machine. “I’ve no time to take you anywhere today. We can’t play on the pond, anyway. Freeman says the warmer temperatures are melting the ice.”
Tanner pulled a face. “But we wanna go. We could stay close to the bank.” Justice stood solidly behind him, the two of them united in a purpose for once, instead of quarreling or teasing each other.
Honor removed the shirt she was sewing and shook it out. “You heard me,” she said. “Skating is only safe when it’s very cold and the ice is thick. It may freeze again this month, or we could have to wait until next winter. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“But we want to go,” Justice insisted.
Honor took a deep breath and prayed for patience. Since the night of the winter frolic the previous week, Tanner and Luke had been wild to return to the mill with their sled. But the changeable Delaware weather made skating a rare treat. Some winters the temperatures never dropped and held long enough to make ice-skating safe at all.
“Please,” Tanner begged.
“You heard me,” Honor replied, becoming slightly embarrassed that the boys were being difficult in front of company. “The two of you go outside and play in the yard.” She studied the shirt collar carefully, trying to decide if the seam was perfectly straight.
Justice looked pitiful. “But there’s nothing fun to do in the yard,” he said.
“What you both need is something useful to do,” Honor replied. “See if you can figure out where the white hen is hiding her eggs.”
Tanner shook his head. “She pecks.”
“And scratches,” Justice argued. “We should put her in the pot and eat her.”
Honor didn’t want to scold them in front of company, so she forced a cheerful expression. “The white hen is a good egg producer,” she explained brightly. “And she’ll raise baby chicks for us in the spring. She’s an excellent mother.”
“I’ll gather the eggs,” Greta offered, coming into the kitchen. She crossed the kitchen and reached for her heavy shawl. “Come on, Tanner. Justice.” Reluctantly, the boys trudged after her to put on their coats.
Honor returned to the table, where Ivy was knitting a blue baby cap. “It rained all day yesterday, and they’ve got so much energy that they get restless when they stay inside.”
Ivy smiled and nodded. “I know about little boys and big ones. It’s a pity about the ice. Freeman’s father was very strict about the pond. When Freeman was little, he would beg and beg to be allowed to skate, but we never let him unless the pond was frozen from bank to bank. The ice must be two inches thick, and it’s nothing like that now.”
With Ivy there, not even the bishop could complain about Luke being on Honor’s farm if they were chaperoned by such respected elders. And Honor liked Ivy and was glad for her company. She reminded Honor of her Grandmother Troyer, now passed on and greatly missed.
The men had carried Honor’s sewing machine out into the kitchen so that the women could be at the center of everything while they did their needlework. It was so nice here, with the sun coming in the windows, that Honor thought she might move some of the furniture and keep the sewing machine there until spring.
“I hope Elijah’s cold doesn’t get any worse,” she said to Ivy. Elijah had had the sniffles for several days and was cutting a molar, so after listening to his whining, Honor had tucked him back into bed at the same time she’d put Anke down for her nap. He protested for about ten minutes and then dropped off to sleep. She’d made chicken soup the previous day and had hoped some hot soup and plenty of rest would set him as right as rain. Her children were rarely ill and she hoped the rest of them wouldn’t catch the toddler’s cold.
“So long as your Elijah doesn’t develop a fever or a bad cough, I think he’ll be fine,” Ivy commented. “He’s a sturdy little one. And you’re so sensible with him. You should have seen me when Freeman was small. If he sneezed, I was driving him to the doctor. Once, I took him to the emergency room for an infected mosquito bite.” She sighed and smiled from under her black elder’s kapp. Ivy’s face was surprisingly unlined, and her eyes were bright. “He was our only one, you see,” she said. “The only one who lived. And I was constantly in a panic that something would happen to him.” She beamed. “But God blessed us, and he flourished in spite of my fears. Look at the size of him now, grown to a big, hearty man.”
Honor paused from sewing a button on Tanner’s spring jacket. Her heart went out to Ivy, having only one child and being unable to have any more. Honor couldn’t imagine what she would do if anything happened to one of her four. Or the ones she and Luke might be blessed with… Her children were her life, and the truth was, she was looking forward to a bigger family. God willing, of course.
She swallowed and glanced around the kitchen. Soon Luke would be sharing her life permanently. He would help her with the farm and with the children. A small shiver of excitement spiraled up her spine. And with it came an icy thread of doubt.
“Ivy?”
“Ya?” The knitting needles paused, and Ivy rested them and the cap on her black apron.
“Do you think I’m marrying again too soon?” That wasn’t what she wanted to ask. She wanted to ask Ivy if she thought that Honor was being foolish. Because she felt foolish. At times, she was downright giddy. There was no other word for it. She was giddy over Luke and the thought of making a life with him. Once, all those years ago, they’d shared a kiss behind the schoolhouse on the way home from a singing. She still remembered that kiss, dreamed about it…
“Why would you ask that?” Ivy said. “Of course not. A decent time has passed since Silas was laid in the earth. I’ve known women with children to marry again before the first year was up, and few thought to criticize them. A woman is meant to be married, and children are meant to have a father. It’s God’s way. It’s our way.”
“We nearly married before,” Honor admitted. She wondered how much to reveal about Luke, but she felt the need to talk and Ivy seemed open to listening. “Before I agreed to become Silas’s wife. But we… Luke and I…broke it off.”
“I know about that,” Ivy said with a wave. “Your almost marriage to Luke was common knowledge around the county. Yours was a different church community, but talk gets around. And don’t think you two are the first or the last couple to call off a marriage at the last moment. Sometimes it’s the wisest thing to do.”
Honor looked down at her hands, now still. “It was Luke’s doing, not mine.”
“But you were both very young. Too young, some would say. I think a woman needs to be in her midtwenties to know her own mind when it comes to marriage. Most women. I know that I would have been far too unsteady to have married sooner. Too much a girl to make a good wife if I’d married before I did. Marriage is hard. You have to put the other person first. We waited to exchange our vows, and it was worth it. He’s gone now, my first husband, but a better man never walked God’s earth. And I counted my blessings to have him. And now to have my Jehu. God is good.”
“So, you don’t think I’m rushing into this? With Luke? My aunt Martha does. She’s against it. She thinks we’d be a terrible match.”
Ivy glanced up from her knitting and chuckled. “Martha disapproves of a lot of things, but no one’s asking Martha to marry Luke.” Her eyes twinkled. “This has to be your decision, Honor. And Luke’s. Not mine and certainly not Martha’s. Besides, Sara Yoder thinks you’ve made a good match, and she’s a sensible woman. And so is Hannah. She’s so taken with you and Luke, she tells me that she’s offered to have your wedding at her home.”
“She did, but Sara offered first. It was so sweet of Hannah to offer, but we’ve decided to hold the ceremony at Sara’s. The bishop is just waiting for a letter from Luke’s church confirming his baptism. We want Katie and Freeman to be part of the wedding party, and Sara’s already planning the menu. You’d think I was her daughter instead of just a client.”
“You’re more than a client,” Ivy assured her. “You know Sara never had any children of her own. She thinks of all of her brides and grooms as her sons and daughters. She says so all the time.” Ivy chuckled. “Sara may seem tough, but inside, she’s as soft as new butter.”
Honor nodded, reassured. She finished the last stitches on the shirt collar and then got up to check the roast. She was planning on making buttered noodles, a green bean casserole and scalloped potatoes for the midday meal. Ivy had brought a coconut cake and canned spiced pears to go with dinner.
Greta came in with the eggs. “Only eight today,” she said.
“Are the boys staying out of Luke and Freeman’s way?” Honor asked, reaching for hot mitts.
Greta nodded. “They hitched up the donkey to the sled and were driving it around the field.” She removed her bonnet and retied the ends of her headscarf. “Want me to check on Anke?”
Honor nodded. “And would you make certain that Elijah is covered? He’s as wiggly as a goat. Half the time his blankets end up on the floor. I wouldn’t want him to take a chill.” She slid the pan of scalloped potatoes into the oven. She felt a little better after talking with Ivy. She supposed that every woman must be nervous about a coming wedding. Marriage was a serious matter. God willing, she and Luke would be married for the next fifty years.
She loved Luke, she was certain of that. And she believed that he would make a good father for her children. It would be all right. They would be all right. In just a few weeks, she would stand before the bishop with Luke and they would be man and wife. She was scared, but in a good way, and the sooner they could make their promises to each other, the better for her and for her children.
It was a little after one o’clock when she finally had the food on the table and stepped out on the back porch to ring the dinner bell. “Come and eat!” she called.
The air was brisk, but the sun was shining. She judged it to be in the forties, not a bad day for February. She ran the bell a second time, and Luke and Freeman appeared at the far end of the yard.
She smiled to herself. How fine Luke looked, with his tool belt around his waist and shoulders wide and strong. He wasn’t quite as tall as Freeman, but Honor’s throat warmed at the sight of Luke and his friend striding toward her. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had a good man who wanted to marry her and she had friends. Truly, she felt blessed.
She didn’t see the boys, so she rang the dinner bell yet again. “Have you seen Justice and Tanner?” she called to Luke. “Are they coming?”
The two men drew closer. “Haven’t seen them in a good while,” Luke replied. “They had the sled hitched to the donkey and were taking turns riding around the field.”
“I saw them,” Freeman said. “An hour ago, maybe more. They were going down the lane. I thought maybe you’d sent them to pick up the mail from your box.”
Honor went to the far corner of the back porch and looked down the driveway. There was no sign of her boys. “Maybe they’re in the barn,” she said, hoping that they’d tired of their game and put the donkey in his stall. She pulled the rope again, and the old bell pealed.
“I’ll go look,” Luke said. “They can’t have gone far.”
“You know how kids are,” Freeman said. “When they get playing, they forget everything else, even dinner.”
When Luke came striding back alone, Honor’s throat tightened. A shiver became a chill, despite the fact that she now had her cloak on. “Is the donkey there?” she asked. He shook his head, and suddenly she was afraid. “They’ve gone to millpond,” she said. “Tanner wanted me to take them. He was going to take his sled to play on the ice.”
“Ne, I don’t think they’d do that. They’ve never gone that far before, have they?” Freeman’s expression darkened. “The ice on the pond has been melting.”
Honor’s hand flew to her mouth. “That’s where they’ve gone. I know it. Luke, hitch up the horse for me.” She came down the steps toward him. “We have to get to Freeman’s. Katie’s not home today. There would be no one there to send them home.”
“You really think they’d go to the millpond? By themselves?”
She nodded, starting across the barnyard. “Once Tanner gets something in his head, he doesn’t let go of it. I’ve got to go after them before something terrible happens.” If Tanner and Justice got to the pond… But she couldn’t allow herself to think of that. She’d go after them, find them along the road. How fast could a donkey carry two little boys?
“I’ll take the horse,” Luke said, walking quickly beside her. “I can go cross-country through the farm lanes and the woods. It will cut off nearly a mile.”
“You can’t expect me to stay here,” Honor insisted.
“I’ll take you in my buggy,” Freeman volunteered. “Your little ones will be safe with my mother.” He looked at Luke, who was already on the move. “There’s a life ring with a rope on the pole by the spillway. You won’t need it, but just in case.”
Honor stifled a breathless moan. The image of her boys walking out on thin ice sickened her.
Luke stopped and turned to Honor. “Go back to the house and get your gloves. No sense in you catching your death if Justice and Tanner are playing somewhere along the road. I’m going to go right now but Freeman will bring around his buggy.”
“God grant they are safe,” she murmured.
She rushed to gather her mittens and tell Ivy where she was going, then came back out. By the time she walked down the porch steps, Freeman was bringing his horse and buggy to the back door. “Luke?” she asked. “Has he—”
“Already gone.” Freeman offered his gloved hand to help her into the buggy. “He slapped a bridle on your horse and took off at a canter across the back field. Don’t worry. If they did have any notion of going to play on the ice, he’ll get there well ahead of them.”
* * *
Honor’s horse was a good one and had obviously been ridden before. Some driving horses balked or shied at a rider, but not this one. Luke hadn’t seen a saddle in the barn, but he’d ridden bareback a lot in Kansas. His uncle’s fields were vast compared to these farms, and what the elders didn’t see, they couldn’t object to. There was no gate at the edge of Honor’s land but he’d brought wire cutters and he made short work of the three strands of barbed wire. No time to repair it today; that could wait. If the boys were headed for Freeman’s pond, he needed to beat them there.
When the fence was down, he remounted, crossed another meadow and followed a lumber road through the woods. He knew the way; he’d walked this track once from the mill. He kicked the horse into a trot and then to a gallop. Beneath the trees, the ground was barely thawed and frost tinted the dry leaves. Ahead of him, a deer sprang up and vanished as soundlessly as a shadow. Luke urged his mount on.
Honor’s sons knew that the pond, any pond, was strictly forbidden without an adult. Winter or summer. And they knew that leaving the property without telling their mother wasn’t allowed. He couldn’t help thinking that this is what came of being so lenient with them. Honor had allowed her children to grow willful and disregard her wishes. His own mother had been quick with a switch if he got out of line. That wasn’t his way. He didn’t believe in striking a child, in using any sort of physical punishment on any person, young or old. But there were other ways to discipline.
He left the field to ride along the edge of a farmyard and then reined the horse to a trot down their driveway to a paved road, the same route that led to the mill. The final quarter mile passed quickly with no sign of the boys. There was a grassy shoulder and Luke kept the animal on it at a steady lope.
“Let there be no one there,” he muttered. “Please, let them have turned back.”
A car pulled from the parking lot of the mill onto the blacktop and came slowly toward him. When the driver reached him, he came to a stop and rolled down his window. “Hey! There are two Amish kids out on the ice! I hollered to them but they wouldn’t listen. I didn’t know what else to do. Didn’t seem to be any adults, so I called 911.”
“Thank you!” Luke kicked the horse in the sides and galloped toward the edge of the pond. As he approached, he frantically scanned the ice for the children. A loud eee-haw came from the picnic area, and the horse whinnied as it caught the scent of its barn mate. Luke spotted the donkey tied to a picnic table just inside the trees. A small black Amish boy’s hat lay on the bank. Frantically, Luke scanned the surface of the pond, catching sight of the two small figures about thirty yards from the shore. Tanner was tugging on a rope that held the partially submerged sled.
Luke vaulted from the horse’s back. “Tanner!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Justice!”
One of them let out a wail.
“I’m coming! Lay down on your bellies!” he shouted in Deitsch. “Stretch out your arms.”
Where were the rope and the flotation device Freeman had mentioned? He saw it and spent precious seconds to run to it and pull it free from the stake. Looping the rope over his shoulder, he eased out onto the ice. It crunched ominously, and a long crack zigzagged out to his left. Luke took another step and the ice gave under his weight. The heel of his boot sank through the surface. “God help me,” he whispered. “Not by my doing, but by Yours.”
Tanner flipped the sled over and then shrieked as one knee sank through the ice. Water welled up around him. Justice didn’t make a sound. He lay flat, motionless, his face white under his black knit cap. About fifteen feet separated the two children.
Cautiously, Luke lowered himself to his hands and knees. “Tanner,” he called. “Lay it on its back.” The sled was a concave plastic disk rather than a traditional wooden sled; it might hold Tanner’s weight if he fell through the ice.
Luke heard Justice whimper, but the boys were otherwise silent. Too afraid to speak, he imagined.
Luke inched forward, ignoring the groaning and snapping beneath him. One hand punched through and black water bubbled up. Far in the distance, he heard the wail of rescue vehicles. Luke kept moving, no longer on hands and knees but flat on his stomach, trying to push and pull himself across the ice.
Justice seemed secure for the moment, but Tanner was clearly in trouble. More cracks opened in the ice, and the child’s knees crashed through the shimmering surface. Tanner managed to flip the sled over.
“That’s it!” Luke shouted. “Hold on to it! It should float!”
Justice was quietly sobbing. His eyes were huge and frightened.
“Stay calm!” Luke urged. “Justice, I’m going to slide this life ring to you. Grab it and don’t let go! Do you understand, Justice? Whatever happens, don’t let go!”
On his first try, the ring missed the boy by six feet. Luke pulled it back and tried again. This time, it came within a yard of Justice. “Creep to the ring!” Luke ordered. “Slowly! There! You’ve got it! Now, don’t move. Do you hear me? Do not move. I’ll get you in a second.”
He turned back to Tanner. Tanner was glued to the sled, cold water surging around his waist. Luke knew that time was against them. The water temperature could kill the children almost as quickly as drowning. He glanced at Justice. “Start crawling toward the shore,” he called. Justice was the lightest of them. He might just make it to shore without falling through. “Whatever you do, Justice, don’t let go of the ring!”
The shrieks of the emergency vehicles became louder, but Luke was afraid that if Tanner went through the ice, they wouldn’t get there in time. “Keep moving!” he ordered Justice. Then he turned back to the older boy, “Hold on, Tanner, I’m coming to—”
The ice cracked and parted, and Luke felt himself fall. Heard the splash. Water closed over his head, colder than anything he could imagine. His coat and boots filled with water and pulled him down, but he fought his way to the surface. His head broke the surface and he gasped for air. Both boys were screaming.
Tanner had gone down into the water, but the sled was holding him up. Luke attempted to crawl back up onto the ice, but every time he moved forward, it shattered and he sank again. He went under again and came up. This time his fingers touched the edge of Tanner’s sled.
The boy had suddenly stopped screaming and was staring at him. Tanner held out a hand and Luke grasped it. He looked around, saw what he thought was a thicker section of ice, and shoved the sled as hard as he could. The sled glided up and over the ice, taking Tanner with it.
Luke’s teeth were chattering so hard that he couldn’t think. He was cold, so cold, and his boots were so heavy. Slowly, he used one foot to push off the right boot and then repeated the process with the left. His coat was next, but the zipper was almost more than he could manage.
He heard voices. On a bullhorn. The Englisher firemen were there, but he couldn’t make out what they were trying to tell him. “Hold on,” he tried to say to Tanner, but the words were as frozen as the chunks of ice around him. Into Your hands, he prayed silently. In Your infinite mercy, spare these innocents…
Luke kicked in the water, but he could feel himself sinking. He was suddenly tired, so tired. And then, the blackness closed over him and he didn’t feel the cold anymore.