Abe looked at Lavinia. “What is all this? Did you plan this?”
She smiled. “Welcome home, Abe.”
He was speechless.
Liz shut off the engine. “Sit tight. I’ll get your wheelchair.”
She was barely out of the van before Wayne and Leroy were already unloading it and wheeling it to the door. The two men helped Abe move from his seat to the chair.
Wayne pushed the chair up the walk to the house. Lavinia followed, carrying the stuffed cow she’d given Abe at the hospital.
One by one, many of the dairy farmers he knew stepped forward, welcomed him home, and offered help to him.
An Englisch man did so as well. “My name is Philip Smith—we met at the Dairymen’s Association. Paul Bryant and Mel Miller are here as well. We want you to call on us for anything, anything at all that you need.”
Abe swallowed hard. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
More men stepped up, friends of Abe’s from church who were farmers, carpenters, craftsmen, and construction workers. Their fraas joined them in greeting Abe and offering their help. His hand was shaken, his shoulders patted, and by the time the last of them greeted him, he was overwhelmed.
When the people before him parted, Abe saw that a ramp had been built over the steps to the porch and the front door.
“Wayne and I built the ramp when we heard you were coming home,” Leroy told him. “We’ll be over the minute you don’t need it anymore and can dismantle it in two shakes.”
“There’s another off the back porch,” Wayne said.
“That’s gut, danki,” he said, and heard the tremor in his voice. They’d gone to so much trouble, and wood wasn’t cheap these days.
He glanced at Lavinia as she walked beside him. Then he looked closer. “Are you crying?”
“Nee,” she said, blinking hard.
As his chair was rolled onto the porch, he saw his eldres. His mudder rushed forward to hug him. His dat gave him a big grin as he sat in a rocking chair he’d built himself years ago. One hand rested on his cane. The other held a cookie.
“Do you feel up to staying out here for a few minutes? Maybe have some cake and coffee?” Lavinia bent close to ask after she set the stuffed cow and her purse aside.
She gestured at the table that had been set up. It held a fancy cake with Welcome Home, Abe written across it in blue icing. There were several plates of cookies and a big coffeepot.
“Of course.” He grinned. “When have I ever turned down cake?”
Soon everyone was standing around, eating and drinking and offering their help. Wayne, Abe’s helper, surprised him by bringing Bessie to the side of the porch. She didn’t look all that impressed at seeing him, but that was her way.
As Wayne led her back to the barn, Lavinia brought Abe a plate with a brownie. “I baked some for you.”
He took it and bit in. “Best part of the day.”
“Nee, it’s not. I saw how you looked at Bessie.”
“Old, cranky Bessie,” he said, chuckling. “I did miss her.”
He gazed around at the men and women chatting with each other. Both Amish and Englisch, from all walks of life. He knew they didn’t associate with each other as much in other communities, but it had always been this way in Lancaster County—two groups that did business together, made friends with each other, helped each other in times of need.
He turned to Lavinia. “Whose idea was this gathering?”
“Depends on if you like the idea or not,” she told him cautiously.
“How could I not like it? I’d be pretty ungrateful, wouldn’t I?”
“Well, not everyone likes a surprise.”
“I don’t, usually. But it got a little lonely sometimes at the hospital.” He felt himself color at the admission.
“I can imagine. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend more time there.”
“You were there a lot,” he said. “You got me through the worst time in my life.”
“That’s what friends are for,” she told him quietly.
But something passed between them, something deeper, more intimate. He didn’t know how long they might have looked at each other without a care that anyone around them might notice, but then someone cleared her throat.
“Abe, people are leaving,” his mudder said. “You should be thanking them for coming, say goodbye.”
He tore his gaze from Lavinia and did as his mudder directed. When he watched the last of them walk to their cars and buggies, he realized how exhausted he felt.
“Time to get you inside and into bed for a nap.”
“Mamm, I’m not a kind.”
“Are you telling me you’re not tired?”
Since he’d just had to smother a yawn, he couldn’t deny it. But who wanted his mudder to talk like she was going to tuck him into bed when Lavinia was standing nearby?
“Lavinia helped me make up the bed in the downstairs bedroom,” his mudder was saying as Lavinia hurried ahead to hold the front door open.
Abe had slept in this bedroom once before when he’d taken a tumble from a tree as a boy and hadn’t been able to climb the stairs to his second-floor bedroom. He remembered he hadn’t liked it much back then. It had felt too far from the rest of the family. He’d heard noises from outside the house he’d never heard in the quiet upstairs room.
But he was an adult now, even if his mudder was bustling around caring for him as though he were a kind again. She and Lavinia helped him move from the wheelchair to the bed and take his shoes off, then offered him a pain pill and a glass of water.
He hated it. Hated having to need the help of two women to get into his bed. Nee, if he was honest, he hated needing Lavinia’s help. It felt awful being so vulnerable when he’d always been healthy and taken care of himself.
When she moved to the bedside table to turn on a battery-operated fan, his frustration got the better of him.
“Mamm can do it.” He knew he sounded a little irritable, but he was embarrassed and exhausted and couldn’t help it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Abe,” his mudder said, in that tone mudders used.
“He’s tired. I’ll go,” Lavinia said softly.
And she rushed from the room.
His mudder switched on the fan to send a gentle breeze across him, laid a hand on his forehead, then left the room.
Home. He was home at last.
His eyes were already closing. He sank into the comfort of the bed and the quiet of the old house and knew no more.
* * *
A light rain began falling on her way home. Lavinia didn’t mind. The weather had been uncomfortably hot, and it would cool things off. Besides, getting wet just added to her misery.
She tried not to feel sorry for herself for the way Abe had behaved just before she left. She told herself it was just because the day had been a lot for him. He had to be overtired and overstimulated. She knew that. Still, tears slipped down her cheeks and mixed with the raindrops. It hurt her feelings a little.
The rain was mercifully brief. This was the time of year when farmers hurried to get crops harvested.
When she walked into the kitchen of her home, she winced at the wave of heat that hit her. Two battery-operated fans were aimed at the stove and the kitchen window was open, but it didn’t do much to help cool things off. The scent of tomato sauce hung heavy on the air.
“Great timing,” her schweschder Sadie said as she turned from the stove. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “I canned a big batch of the tomatoes from the kitchen garden.” She gestured at the rows of glass mason jars sitting on the kitchen counter.
Lavinia went straight for the pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator and got two glasses from the cupboard. “Sit,” she said as she poured the tea. “You look exhausted.”
“Happy to get off my feet,” Sadie said, taking a seat at the table. She rubbed her baby bump under her apron, then ran the cold glass over her forehead before she took a sip. “You look wet. Is it raining?”
“Ya. It felt gut, though, to walk home in it. It was hot today.”
“So did Abe get to come home today?”
She nodded. “He was surprised at all the people who showed up to welcome him home.” Remembering, she pressed her lips together. “I don’t think he had any idea so many people cared about him.”
She told Sadie about the turnout of Amish and Englisch, about the offers of help.
Sadie nodded. “That’s Lancaster County. Full of gut hearts.” She tilted her head and studied Lavinia. “How are you feeling?”
“Me? I’m fine.”
“Are you? I know you’ve been so worried about Abe. If you looked in a mirror, you’d see you’re the one who looks exhausted.”
She shrugged. “He’s home now, so I won’t be going out to the hospital to see him. I’ll be working at the shop more, be home more.”
“It looked like the two of you were getting serious about each other before this happened.”
Emotion swamped her. “He’s become my whole world,” she blurted out, then pressed her fingers to her lips.
She took a deep breath, forced herself to think positively. “He’s getting better. Feeling’s coming back in his legs. He’ll be having physical therapy at home. And his eldres are back from their visit out of state. I’m taking things one day at a time. I don’t know what will happen now.”
Sadie reached over, grasped her hand, and squeezed it. “I had the feeling he was going to ask you to marry him before this.”
“I did, too.” She sighed. “But Sadie, he’s been so worried about his farm. What happened to him…complicates things.”
“It seems like it’s even more important for people to be together when times are hard.”
She smiled. “Seems like the happily married always want to see everyone else married.”
Sadie laughed and stood. “You should listen to us.” She set her glass in the sink. “I’m going home now to fix supper for my familye.”
“Mamm should be home from work soon,” Lavinia said as she glanced at the clock. “I need to start supper, too.”
She waved a hand in front of her face. “I’m thinking something cold. Maybe haystacks.”
Sadie picked up several jars of tomato sauce and gave Lavinia a rueful glance. “After canning this all day, I don’t think I’ll be making spaghetti for supper.”
After she left, Lavinia sat there staring at the jars of ruby-red tomato sauce lined up on the kitchen counter. It was harvest time, so it was no wonder Sadie had brought up Lavinia’s relationship with Abe. After the hard work of harvest was over, couples were free to marry. She knew there would be wedding after wedding after wedding.
In the deep chambers of her heart, she’d had hopes Abe would ask her to marry him. Now she had to lock away that hope, set aside that dream. A man and a woman took a vow for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health. She was willing to marry Abe no matter what, but she didn’t know how he felt. Would Abe want to marry before he was on his feet and back to working his farm? He needed to concentrate on his recovery. She couldn’t see him asking her until things were better.
She sighed. Would it matter if they had to wait a year to get married? If they loved each other, it shouldn’t matter, should it? But she knew the answer to that question. Married couples got to be together, spend more time with each other. They belonged to each other. Worked together. Shared dreams. Had kinner together.
She sighed again and forced herself to get up and start supper. Soon she was browning hamburger with some chopped onion and garlic and cutting big, ripe tomatoes and a just-picked head of lettuce.
The kitchen door opened and her dat came in. He took off his hat, hung it on a peg, and walked to the sink to wash his hands. “Something smells gut.”
“I thought haystacks would be nice on a hot day like this.”
He nodded. “I could eat one a mountain high.”
She set the glass before him as he sat at the table. “Mamm should be home soon. Do you need a snack to tide you over? Maybe some cheese and crackers?” She knew he’d worked hard all day out in the hot sun.
“Sounds gut to me.”
She quickly put together a plate of cheese cubes, crackers, and slices of apple. He munched happily while she finished browning and draining the hamburger and set it aside.
“So did Abe make it home from the hospital today? I was sorry I couldn’t make it there.”
“Ya.” She sat at the table to chop fresh vegetables for the haystacks and told him about the gathering at Abe’s house. “We really surprised him.” She blinked hard at the tears that threatened to fall.
He laid a big, work-roughened hand over hers and patted it. “Now, now, no need to cry. Everything’s going to be allrecht.”
She sniffed. “I know. It’s just the onions making me cry.”
“Schur. Except you haven’t started chopping them yet,” he said gently.
Lavinia looked down and saw he was right. The onion sat at the corner of the cutting board and hadn’t been touched.
She shook her head. “I know I should be grateful he’s getting back the feeling in his legs. That he’s home now. But I was hoping things would be so much better. It feels like he has a mountain to climb.”
“Seems to me that he’s been blessed to have you as a gut friend. That he has so many other friends as well who welcomed him home and offered help.” He popped the last cheese cube in his mouth and reached for one of the black olives in the dish before Lavinia.
“He has.” She took a deep breath and resumed chopping the head of lettuce. Such a bounty of fresh, delicious vegetables this time of year.
By the time her mudder walked in the door, Lavinia had gathered and chopped all the ingredients and had them sitting on a lazy Susan her dat had made for his fraa one Christmas.
“It’s a nice night,” Amos said with satisfaction as the three of them gathered at the table and they bent their heads in prayer. “Both of you home for supper.”
Lavinia broke up a handful of tortilla chips and put them in the bowl in front of her, then layered beef, rice, and all the chopped vegetables—except green pepper. She’d never liked the taste of green pepper. Shredded cheese went next, then salsa last. Lavinia always thought of haystacks as summer in a bowl.
She knew without looking how her eldres assembled their haystacks. Her mudder favored lots of black olives on hers, and her dat was particularly fond of the extra-hot salsa. That was what made it a favorite of her familye as well as other Amish familyes: everyone got to make the haystack to their liking. And it was a nice cooling supper during the hot harvest season.
Lavinia took a smaller amount of each of the ingredients than usual tonight and poked at it more than ate it. She didn’t have much of an appetite. Her mood was too unsettled and she felt too tired to eat, even though it was only seven o’clock.
If her eldres noticed, they didn’t say anything. Her mudder chatted about her day and her dat talked about how the harvesting had gone.
When he was done, her dat pushed away from the table and stood. “That was delicious, Lavinia. Rachel, I’m going out to the barn to finish up chores.”
Lavinia rose and began clearing the table. Her mudder reached out to touch her arm. “Sit, Lavinia. Talk to me. I can see something is wrong.”
“I’m just tired, Mamm. It’s been a long day.”
Rachel shook her head. “I think your spirit is tired more than your body.”
“Maybe. We’re both tired. You’ve had more work on you because I’ve been with Abe. Why don’t you go sit in the living room, put your feet up, and relax?”
Rachel studied her and then sighed. “Allrecht, I’ll do that if you really don’t want to talk now. When you’re ready, let me know.” She stood and hugged Lavinia, then left the room.
Lavinia filled the sink with water and dishwashing liquid and barely noticed when tears slid down her cheeks and plopped into it. The day felt like an anticlimax, not like the high she’d expected.