FOR AENTI BETH silence was of infinite value, as it was to many of the Old Order Amish of Paradise. But this evening Tabitha chafed under the restriction of a silent
half hour during prayer time. Instead she felt as though she wanted to sing with memories of Rob’s curling hair, brown eyes, and ach, his merry deep laugh. She couldn’t help smiling at the thought, and even when Aenti Beth cleared her throat to signal the end of silent reflection, Tabitha kept her head bowed while she smiled in fond recollection.
“Tabby?” her aenti said gently, and Tabitha nearly jumped in her chair.
“Ach, sorry, Aenti Beth.”
“Do your thoughts wander far afield tonight?”
“Ya, you might say so.”
“Hmmm . . . I noticed John Miller back here this afternoon. Was everything as it should be?”
At the mention of John Miller and the thought of her brazen admittance to lying, Tabitha felt her cheeks flush. “Y—ya, aenti, all is well. He just came back to check on the buggy, as I’d asked him to.”
“That’s gut. John Miller deserves for things to geh well in his life. He may well do himself a blessing to court the bishop’s daughter, after what happened with Phoebe Graber.”
Tabitha nodded, barely listening, then something intuitively pricked her consciousness and she sat up straighter in her chair. “Why? What happened with Phoebe Graber?”
“Hmmm?” Aenti Beth raised a gray brow. “Ach, never mind, it reflects poorly on me to speak of the past and to gossip at that.” She stretched to pat Tabitha’s hand. “Let us allow the past its silence, as we should, Tabby. Will you kumme and help me get ready for bed?”
Tabitha nodded obediently and rose to push her aenti’s wheelchair into the master bedroom on the ground floor. It was a room of sweetness and light, having a bright pink and green Christmas Roses quilt on the double bed and Aenti Beth’s Bible and her book of martyrs carefully placed on an oaken stand near her bedside, within easy reach. Then a bone-white bowl and pitcher stood on a dresser, not for water, but so that Tabitha might roam far to bring her lame aenti samplings from the flowers and plants of the field, during all the seasons. This evening there were sprigs of evergreen and the last of the winter holly berries. She couldn’t wait to replace them in the spring with yellow daffodils, which she always carefully bolstered up in the pitcher with wet moss. Still, the evergreen gave off a spicy-sweet scent that Aenti Beth enjoyed.
Tabitha helped her into bed, then bent to receive the kiss and hug she’d been given for as long as she could remember, the dear elderly arms stretching to encompass her.
“Gut nacht, child,” Aenti Beth murmured, and Tabitha softly returned the words and then drifted out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Elizabeth reached for her Bible, then simply closed her eyes in prayer. Her legs, a gift from Derr Herr since her birth, ached a bit, though she knew it was mere phantom pain and not proof that they wouldn’t support her small frame. She sighed aloud, knowing that Tabby seemed burdened, and then she herself had nearly told of John Miller’s past with the beautiful and reckless Phoebe Graber. Elizabeth could remember the errant girl’s face and the times she’d noticed during supervising various youth activities that Phoebe had flirted with John.
Ach, Gott, perhaps I should have spoken to her about it then—she broke off the direction of her thoughts and refocused on Tabby—when I die, Gott, you know this haus must go to my bruder and he—with his meanness—is hardly likely to provide her a happy home. Ach, please let me be able to share the secret with her before I pass from this life—
She continued to pray softly until she felt the pull of sleep wash over her in gentle, soothing waves.
Tabitha normally would have sought her own bed on the second floor after prayers, but tonight she felt keyed up and restless. She wandered out onto the front porch and gazed up at the star-strewn night sky. It brought some comfort to know that Rob was under the same celestial blanket as she, no matter how far away he was. Then she began to pray softly, her heart aching.
“Dear Gott, have mercy on Rob and on his grossdaudi, and I ask that You would give me grace to wait patiently for word from him. Ach, Fater, sei se gut, help him to know that I long for his presence, and may all things work out for Your glory.”
She felt peace with the last of her words and slipped back inside to seek her humble bed.
Later that night, after he’d sat with his grandfather until the man had fallen asleep, Rob returned to an empty house. His grandmother had died several years ago, and his grandfather had refused to move from his childhood home to live with any of his daughters. The man was as stubborn as an oak tree root, but Rob wouldn’t have him any other way.
Days and evenings spent at the hospital were taking a toll, and Rob sat down wearily at the desk in his grandfather’s bedroom and quickly wrote a few bland sentences on a generic postcard to Tabby Beiler. It was all he could muster tonight. After the brief missive was complete, he did something he rarely found himself doing. He started to pray—for his grandfather, for peace, for wisdom, and then, sweetly unbidden, for Katie Girton that her life would be easier and for blessings on her daughter.
His eyes flew open, and he found himself not sitting but with his cheek resting against Tabby’s card. At some point during his prayers he’d fallen asleep. He lifted his head, pulled the card that was stuck on his face, and tossed it on the desk. He’d address it in the morning. Right now, all he wanted to do was go upstairs and get some sleep.
John sat in his room at his desk and tried to concentrate on a rather difficult verse from his Bible—“Behold, I make all things new . . .” It’s something to consider given the fact that there is no way things with Phoebe Graber could ever be made new.
He sighed aloud at his thoughts, unsure why the idea of Phoebe had come up—it had been long ago, when he’d been nineteen—the same age as Tabitha.
He half startled as his door burst open and Matt barged in to make himself comfortable on John’s bed.
“So, how’d it go?”
“What?” John asked, tiredly rubbing his eyes and closing his Bible as he glanced sideways at Matt.
“The sledding . . . I take it you survived without having any marriage banns called?”
John frowned at his younger bruder and spoke with a determined stiffness. “Barbara is . . .”
“Is what?” Matt’s brow lifted curiously.
“She, uh, has—beautiful eyes.”
“Ya, like a cobra’s—mesmerizing.” Matt grinned.
John suppressed the smile that came to his own lips when there was a knock on his door and Esther slipped inside.
“I’m sorry to intrude, John, but I had to know how it went.”
“Barbara has beautiful eyes,” Matt mimicked and John shook his head.
“I said that, ya, but . . .”
“Ach, John.” Esther sat down next to Matt. “You don’t really plan to marry her, do you?”
“Marriage?” John twisted in his desk chair. “Who said anything about marriage? One sled ride and I’m marrying her, why . . .” He broke off and realized he’d almost revealed his reason for staying close to Barbara Esch, but he did not want to betray Rob under any circumstances. He knew the reason Rob was so intent on such secrecy about his relationship with Tabby and the fact that it had to do with his disapproving mother. In fact, he thought on impulse, perhaps he could help Rob’s mother to see the value of Tabitha and help Rob out a bit while he was gone.
Matt groaned. “Now you’re thinking. Have mercy. I could not abide Barbara Esch as my sister-in-law.”
“Everyone has value in Gott’s sight, whether you can abide them or not,” John chided. “And right now, I’d value some sleep. So out you two.”
He watched his siblings reluctantly leave, and then he sought the comfort of his narrow bed, meditating on Gott’s Word and His promise to “make all things new,” until he fell into a deep, restless sleep.