Chapter Five

 

 

The black and white milk cows grazed in the pasture. John’s large, temperamental bull trod in a patrol along his pen fence, making a trench in the dust. He searched for a way to get to the cows. A black and red rooster flew up on the pig pen fence. He crowed several times loudly as if he was announcing Hal’s arrival. Like anyone at the Lapp farm cared that she had shown up. No sign of John anywhere. Patches didn’t even jump out of the ditch to greet her. The best she could hope for was to find Emma in the kitchen. That was always a given.

Holding a bowl cradled tightly in her arm, Emma vigorously stirred chocolate cake batter.

Hal peered in the bowl. Quick before Emma could protest, Hal stuck her finger in the batter to get a sample. “That for supper?”

“Yes,” Emma said, concentrating on beating the lumpy mixture.

“Yum.” Hal sniffed. She inhaled again, deeper this time. “Why doesn’t the house smell like food today?”

“I did not cook. Dad is far behind with fieldwork. Emil Miller’s funeral took half a day. Now he gets a late start and stops early to do Roseanna’s chores.” Emma busied herself, pouring the batter into a greased cake pan. She popped the pan in the oven and wiped the counter off to get rid of brown drops of cake batter. “It worries me that Dad did not eat. He should not go hungry while he is working so hard.”

“You are right about that,” Hal agreed.

Emma had a suspicious glint in her eyes when she turned around. The kind of look that made Hal leery if she took the time to think about it. “If I give you a lunch for Dad, would you take it to him?”

“Sure. He should stop long enough to eat.”

“You will find him in the west field.” Emma pointed west out the back door and handed Hal a dishtowel bundle.

Hal tromped in long strides over the large chunks of slick, gleaming black dirt in the freshly plowed field. She had to be careful not to fall down and keep a tight grip on John’s lunch at the same time. It occurred to her, sneaky Emma had set her up again but in a good way this time. Emma could have taken her father his lunch at noon, but she knew how lonesome Hal had been lately. The girl purposely waited for her to show up.

Hal kept her eyes open for John staggering across the field behind a plow and team of draft horses. Over the next rise, she heard the pop-pop of a tractor motor before she could see it, growing louder as it came nearer. Hal’s mouth dropped open when she topped the rise. John was coming in her direction on a 50’s vintage white tractor with steel wheels. He had his head twisted over his shoulder, watching the three bottom plow dig in and flip the clods over.

How about that. John Lapp owned a tractor. Old for sure and no rubber tires but not at all the picture she had of him struggling along behind a team of work-horses. Hal looked behind her and across the unplowed ground in front of her. John was almost done. The hay field fence was not far away.

“John! John!” Hal waved frantically to get his attention.

At the sound of her voice, Patches jumped out of the fence row grass and came loping to meet her. John searched around him. When he spotted her, he waved back with a big grin and stopped the tractor. While he waited for Hal, he jumped down and picked up a handful of dirt. John smelled of it. Hal was reminded of how often she had seen her father do the same thing.

“Patches, you deserted me to go to the field with John,” Hal joked as she patted his head. “Come on. I have to deliver lunch.”

John climbed back onto the tractor. He called, “Come here once. What are you doing out here?”

Hal ran to him, holding the dish towel bundle up for him to see. “Emma said I was to get you to stop long enough to eat lunch. She doesn’t want you to go hungry, and neither do I.”

She handed John the sack. He laid it on his lap. Holding his hand out, he helped her up on the tractor and gave her a kiss. “Have a seat on the fender. We can talk while I eat.”

Left without Hal’s attention, Patches took off down the fence line, sniffing for a rabbit.

“Why didn’t you stop to eat?” Hal asked, easing onto the slick fender. The metal, heated by the sun, felt good as the warmth soaked through her jeans. She took the dish towel from him, put the bundle in her lap and untied it.

“I lose all track of time when I am working.” He gave her a boyish grin as he set the quart jar of hot coffee beside his feet. Picking up the peanut butter and jam sandwich, he started to take a bite, changed his mind and said, “Reminds me of a story about a farmer that had a large family. The man had been chopping wood all morning. His wife hollered at him to come eat lunch. He laid the ax down, but he tripped over it and fell down. He got right back up and went back to chopping wood. Later when his wife asked him why he did not come in for lunch, he said he wasted so much time falling over the ax he figured there would not be any food left to eat.” He took a bite of the sandwich.

Hal giggled. “That excuse might work if there had been a lot of people sitting at your table during lunch, but Emma was alone.”

The warm breeze fingered through Hal’s curls. She swiped the wayward hair out of her eyes so she could look out across the field. This was John’s life, wholesome with fresh air, farming the earth and raising animals. The same way of life her parents chose. The life she had when she was growing up.

Patches barked an excited woof when he spooked a rabbit. The gray blur of fur streaked off down the fence row with the dog jumping up and down in last year’s tall dried grass after it. John turned his ear to the wind and listened. The wail of a train whistle broke the silence, like a song carried on the breeze for miles and miles. Here was a man that was tuned in to every country sound and sign. Hal loved that about him.

She surveyed the remainder of the field left unplowed. “Won’t be long until this field will be done.”

“This job, yes. Dragging the field and planting the corn is next.” He looked up at the western horizon. “I hope the weather holds until I get done. Once the spring rains start, they pretty much do not know when to quit.” He finished the sugar cookie. After he took the last drink out of the coffee jar, he placed it back in the middle of the dish towel. While Hal knotted the towel, he gave her a solemn look.

Thinking that was the end of this conversation, she made a move to rise. Without a word, John held his arms out to pull her close. She was more than willing to go to him. He rested his cheek in her springy curls. “I have missed you.”

Hal looked up at him. “That’s nice to hear. I miss you, too.”

He put her head in his hands and kissed her. Smiling, he said, “That kiss was worth stopping for, but now I need to get back to work.”

“I know,” Hal said and climbed down off the tractor.

Without saying much that night, Emma and Hal did the routine kitchen clean up as swiftly as they could. Once while washing the dishes, Emma stuck one soapy finger against the white curtain that covered the bottom half of the window. She pulled it back for a quick look toward the barn. She let the curtain drop back into place and scrubbed rigorously on a pot.

Hal knew what Emma was thinking. The girl wished her father would hurry up and get home. She wanted Hal to be happier than she was. Hal had the same wish, but along with wishing John home came other worries stampeding through her mind. What was he doing at Roseanna Miller’s farm at that very moment? Why did he spend so much time at the Miller house?

Emma brought the light blue dress pieces to the kitchen. As she dropped them on the table, the newspaper patterns rattled. She pulled the end of the thread out of the slit on the spool and stuck it in her mouth to wet it. Holding a needle with the eye toward the gas lamp, Emma threaded it and handed the needle across the table to Hal.

“Oh, you will need this,” she said, bringing a thimble out of her apron pocket.

“This isn’t yours, is it? I wouldn’t want to take your thimble. You’ll need it,” Hal predicted, thinking about how much sewing the girl was going to have to do for her.

“No, it is my mother’s.”

“Oh.” Hal reached slowly for the thimble, feeling a twinge at using something that belonged to Diane.

Emma sensed her reluctance. “I am sorry. We should have thought to pick one out for you when we bought the fabric and thread. Next time we go to the fabric store, I will remember.”

“I don’t mind. This will do for now,” Hal told her, trying to sound like she meant it. The last thing she wanted to do was make Emma feel bad when the girl was so willing to help her.

While they sewed, Emma helped Hal learn Pennsylvania Dutch words by saying a word and giving its meaning. Hal repeated the word until she pronounced it right to suit Emma before they moved on to another word.

Concentrating on one of the blouse’s shoulder seam, Hal breathed a sigh of relief when she made the last stitch. She knotted the thread, reached for the scissors and snipped. “Now I’ve got that seam done. How does it look?” Hal laid the pieces down in front of Emma for inspection.

The girl’s shoulders drooped.

“What’s wrong?” Hal asked.

“If it was basting we wanted, the seam would be all right, but the stitches need to be a lot smaller.”

Hal grabbed the blouse back and stared at her work. “Are you sure this won’t do?”

Emma arched an eyebrow at her. “Do you want your wedding dress to fall apart during the wedding?”

“No!”

“You can sew over those stitches. Make very small ones next time,” Emma said, going back to work on a skirt seam. “Now what was the word for horse?” Hal didn’t answer. Emma looked up and asked, “Horse?” Hal concentrated on her stitches. It was clear to Emma that Hal’s mind wasn’t on the lessons. Emma patted the table to get Hal’s attention. “What is bothering you? Are you worried about the seam? I can sew it for you if you want me to. Do not worry. I will not let you wear a wedding dress that will fall apart at the wedding.”

Hal laid the blouse down. “That’s not it. My heart just isn’t in sewing tonight. I keep thinking about your father. I miss him.

John is never home anymore in the evening. We had such a brief moment together this afternoon. Why does it always take so long for him to do chores at the Miller farm?”

“Roseanna has almost as many cows to milk as we do,”

Emma replied, not looking up from her stitches.

“Why aren’t any of the other Amish farmers helping Roseanna out? Isn’t that what they are supposed to do?” Hal complained.

“With spring fieldwork, they are all busy. They will take turns one of these days,” Emma assured her.

“Doesn’t it seem like it takes John a long time to get done with the Miller chores? Noah and Daniel have been done for hours now, and John still isn’t home,” Hal persisted.

“After he gets the milking done, he is staying with Roseanna until after supper,” informed Emma, keeping her eyes on her sewing.

“Why?” Hal asked sharply.

Emma put her attention on Hal. She said evenly, “She feels as if she can repay him in some small way for helping her if she feeds him a meal. Dad feels she needs some company for a while. She is having a hard time getting over her husband’s death.”

“I see.” Hal had the feeling she’d just been reprimanded for not having compassion for Roseanna Miller and her family. The face of the pretty, young widow flashed into her mind and stuck there, smiling at her. She didn’t want to sound like she was complaining with such sad circumstances heaped upon Roseanna Miller. That would make her look like a heartless, uncaring person, but she needed and wanted John Lapp’s company, too.

“Dad will be home this Sunday during the day between doing Roseanna’s chores. This is our in between Sunday. No church. You can spend the whole day with him. Yes?”

At last, Emma had said something that pleased her. “All right! I can hardly wait,” Hal said and went back to concentrating on her stitches.