THINGS FINALLY SETTLED down to a tense normality for Tabitha following her aunt’s simple funeral. She cooked and cleaned her home just as she would have done with Aenti Beth, and a week slowly passed. However, each day Fram grew more irascible, and finally, one afternoon, he bade her to come and sit down at the kitchen table for a talk.
“Now look here, girl, I can’t complain about your cooking, though I could do with a few more pies here and there . . .”
“Is that what you wanted to talk about, Onkel Fram?” Tabitha asked with a faint smile, though her heart was beating fast at what must surely be coming regarding the house and land.
“Hmm? Nee. . . no, of course not. The point I’m trying to make is that I’m used to living alone. I like it that way.”
Tabitha felt her heart sink and began to pray inwardly.
“But—” He paused significantly, as if he was about to bestow a favor. “I am a bit pleased, as I said, with your cooking and cleaning, and I wouldn’t mind you living here as a hired girl, so to speak.”
“A . . . hired girl?” Tabitha’s lips trembled. It seemed the lowest of insults to not only want to rob her of a sense of home but also expect her to go on with its care and upkeep as if merely a servant. Hired girls, though still present in some communities, were becoming a thing of the past, yet here, her own uncle wanted to revive the tradition of a girl working for mere pittance even though she was family.
“Ya, you should be grateful I suggest it. You know you’ve inherited nothing but a recipe box—which proves old Lizzie was part crazy. But she did have enough sense to give me the land and haus as was my due. Now, I can see those big eyes of yours filling up, and I won’t be swayed by any female theatrics. So, there it is. A hired girl.”
Tabitha rose like a mechanical doll from the table, feeling like her arms and legs were leaden with each movement. “I think we need some fresh mint for dinner,” she heard herself say in a surprisingly calm voice. “I’ll go to the woods and hunt some up.”
“Hmm? What’s that you say? Mint? Why, I’ll have your answer now or you can pack your bags and hire on with somebody else around here.”
Tabitha looked at him steadily, though she was devastated inside. First Aenti Beth and now this. “I’ll give you my answer when I come back with the mint, Onkel Fram. You wouldn’t want me to make a hasty decision, would you?”
He stroked his long grey beard. “Nee, perhaps that’s wise. But when you get back and not a minute later.”
Tabitha blocked out whatever he was about to say and grabbed a basket from a hook on the kitchen wall. She slung the basket over her arm, nodded to her uncle, then managed to walk across the kitchen and out the door before she drew a desperate hiccupping sob, then took off at a run, like a doe pursued by hunters, toward the line of woods far on the other side of the fields. She ran as if she never wanted to be found or heard of again, and desperation gave her speed until she finally broke the line of pine trees and had to stop, panting with a deep ache in her side. She dropped to her knees on the pine-needled ground and let her tears flow freely.
Ach, Aenti Beth, how I wish you were here.
John entered his fater’s hospital room to find the bed empty and the sheets in disarray. For a moment he felt like his heart stopped because, in a rush, he saw what it would be to have his daed really gone from earthly life. He knew suddenly that he had to tell his father the truth about his life and why he wanted to leave while his daed was still present.
He walked out into the hall and caught sight of his daed moving slowly with a walker near the nurses’ station. A nurse walked carefully beside his fater, and John came up to them silently, not wanting to startle his daed.
But the nurse noticed him and smiled broadly. “Your father’s making great progress. Do you want to take over for me? Just make sure he doesn’t overdo.”
John nodded and switched places with her, touching his daed’s folded fingers gently. The older man gave him a tight smile. “Like a boppli, I am.”
“Sometimes we all have to start new.”
“Ya.”
John watched his fater’s face as he concentrated on each step, and he knew his daed was in pain. “That’s enough I think, Daed. Let’s turn and geh back to your room.”
“Ya.” His fater breathed again, and John helped him slowly turn the walker.
It was strange, seeing his daed so fragile in his white hospital gown that was stretched with its wrinkled ties across his broad back. Strange and sobering.
Once he’d gotten his fater tucked up in the bed, John sat down in a nearby chair. His mother and Esther had gone to get supper, and he was grateful for this time alone with his daed.
“You’ve got something on your mind, sohn?”
“I’ll tell you if you have a bite of whatever is under that plastic lid.”
“Ach,” his fater grimaced. “I miss your mamm’s food, buwe. Still, the meals aren’t too bad. I imagine Tabitha Beiler hasn’t been making you lunch now that Beth is gone.”
“Nee,” John rubbed at the back of his neck. “Look, Daed, I need to talk to you.”
“As I asked, you’ve got something on your mind?”
“Ya, Daed.” John drew a deep breath. “I love Tabitha, but she loves Rob. And Rob, as my best friend, asked me to keep the secret of his and Tabitha’s love and also to watch over her while he’s gone. I’ve betrayed him and just about everybody by lying both this way and that to try and keep secrets from you and the family and basically everyone.”
“Is that why you got it in your head to geh away to the mountains and work?”
“Ya. I thought . . . well, I don’t think I could stand seeing Rob and Tabitha building a life together in Paradise.”
His fater sighed and stroked his beard. “Have you told Tabitha how you feel, sohn?”
John groaned faintly. “Nee—I can’t.”
“John, I believe Derr Herr deals in truth, and as the Bible says, ‘The truth shall set you free.’ You may find that Tabby Beiler is not of the mind or heart you think she is. And, if I’m wrong, then you’ve taken back your life by risking to tell the truth. And I’ve got to say that I question Rob’s judgment in asking you to lie, to conceal. It isn’t right before Derr Herr.”
John closed his eyes as his daed’s words sank in. Then he looked at his fater’s kind face. “Maybe I should tell her—to have it out there. And to feel clean . . . right now it seems that I’ve got to keep track of a dozen stories depending on who I’m talking to.”
“That’s the way of a lie, sohn. It eats you up inside until you stand up to it.”
John nodded. “All right, Daed. Danki for the advice—and for being my fater.”
The older man smiled gently, and John felt the warmth of love in the enfolding look and knew he could face the truth with both his daed and his heavenly Fater on his side.
“You can let me out here,” John told the van driver, then paid the man and walked down the lane to Tabitha’s house, noting with pleasure the land bursting to vibrant life and strength under the recent rain they’d had. Today it was sunny and warm, and he had it in mind to ask Tabitha to go for a walk, if she wasn’t busy in the garden. He’d made it a habit of late to drop in and see her for a short while each day, gently trying to cheer and comfort her for her loss.
He went to the back door to knock, as was his custom, and was surprised when Fram answered with a guttural greeting.
“Ya, what is it that you want?”
For you to be human, John thought, then reproached himself. Fram is what he is—rotten. “Is Tabitha home?”
“Nee, she’s run off to the woods to think about what I told her.”
John began to worry. “May I ask what you told her, sir?”
“Ya. I gave her my blessing to live on here as a hired girl. She said she had to think about it.”
“A hire—” John had to break off and clenched his hands around the straw brim of his hat to keep from the unfamiliar and forbidden feeling to want to do Fram bodily harm. “How long has she been gone?” he gritted out.
“She said something about gathering fresh mint this afternoon . . . but it’s past time for her to start on dinner. Now, if ya don’t mind, I was taking a nap.”
The screen slammed and bounced once in John’s face. Then he turned angrily and started across the porch. His head was down, so he almost ran full tilt into the tall frame coming up the steps. He lifted his head and stared down into familiar brown eyes.
“Rob?”
Tabitha finally gathered her thoughts as best she could and got to her feet on shaky legs, drained by all of her tears. She bent and picked up her basket, determined to collect some mint as long as she was in the forest.
She wandered along a deer trail, a slightly bent grass marking that, to the careful eye, led to a bed of rest for the animals. Then she moved deeper into the woods. The pines were aromatic and refreshed her, even against her will. She stepped over old pine cones protruding from the straw floor of the forest and listened to the majestic quiet that seemed to be a part of the place. Sunlight slanted through the pine canopy here and there, and as she walked, she began to feel more relaxed. She came to a grassy bank that bordered a bubbling stream and saw some sweet mint growing on the other side of the water.
She balanced her basket in her right hand, then set out, jumping from one dry rock to another and then testing the sturdiness of a sharp-angled stone when she saw no other way to pass. She put her full weight on it and it gave way, landing her in the creek with a sudden tearing pain in her ankle that made her forget her soaked clothing and everything else.
She had never fainted in her life, but now she knew a dizzy sickness and the water seemed to circle about through her brain. I must get out of the creek, she thought to herself, the throbbing pain in her ankle matching the beat of the words in her head.
She dragged herself over the rock-bottomed creek, feeling her hands bruise with the water up to her elbows. Help me, Gott, she prayed. Somehow she gained the stand of mint and grasped its sturdy stems, digging her fingernails into the ground. Finally she managed to lie with her upper body on the bank while her legs and seemingly useless ankle still floated in the water with the hem of her dress. Then she did give in to the merciful pull of darkness that ate at her in red-black motions until she lay still, unconscious, on the damp of the earth.
John was torn between two warring emotions as he looked at Rob—the desire to hug him and the fierce, forbidden feeling of wanting to grab him by the shirt front and shake him until his fine teeth rattled. He opted to do nothing and merely stared into the eyes of the person he thought he knew but whom he’d never really understood.
“John? You have an odd look about you . . .” Rob’s tone was light and grated on John’s nerves.
“And you look odd to me too,” John said, as memories flooded his mind. I’m going to lose a friend, but maybe I’ll find something better in the loss.
“I look odd?” Rob brushed down his immaculate shirt front and raised a questioning brow.
John smiled sadly. “You won’t understand. It’s my fault—my willingness to lie for you, to keep a false sense of honor.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You asked me to watch over Tabitha—to keep your so-called love for her a secret from the community and your mamm, but you never considered the cost or the burden of the lie.”
“Hey, John, you’re talking out of your head. Anyway, I’ve got gut news. I’m in love—real love. Her name’s Katie. She’s a nurse and has a little girl named Clara. They’re English.”
John stared in mute dawning horror at his friend as Rob rambled on briskly. “I realize that I was just playing at love with Tabitha, but what I feel for Katie—it’s different.”
John shook his head in amazement and disillusionment. “What are you going to do about Tabitha? She loves you, Rob. And I won’t stand to see her hurt—any more than she’s already been by your neglect and unfaithfulness. You never wrote her or called her or—”
“My unfaithfulness,” Rob said, cutting him off. “Hey, John Miller, I happened to see Barbara Esch on my way over here, and she had a few secrets to tell. So you let me know who exactly is unfaithful.”
“You didn’t receive my letter?” John asked angrily.
“What letter? The kids around my grossdaudi’s liked to run get the mail and play with it at the same time. The letter was probably lost to the wind.”
John sighed, knowing he had to explain, but at the same time he was anxious to go after Tabitha. “All right. I don’t know what Barbara said, but I wrote that I was pretending to court with Tabitha to keep the other buwes away.”
Rob seemed to weigh out the words. “And were you?”
“Was I what?”
“Only pretending. You didn’t come to love her yourself?”
John felt a sharp stab in his spirit. It would be so easy to lie once more, to put this behind him. But he knew Rob deserved the truth—even if his friend might not understand its value.
John swallowed hard and nodded. “I love her, but she doesn’t know, and I wouldn’t have you tell her. I’d planned on going away to work at my onkel Samuel’s as soon as Daed gets well and will allow it.”
“Why?” Rob suddenly asked, and John was confused by the almost lightness in his friend’s voice.
“Because I couldn’t stand to see you two together—married, kinner. . . I . . . why are you smiling? And what about this . . . this English girl?”
Rob clapped him on the back. “You know, it’s a strange thing, but I had a dream the nacht before last that you and Tabitha were married. My bet, old man, is that she loves you too. Let’s go in and find out.” Rob brushed past him and started for the door.
“What? Wait—she’s not in there,” John cried.
“Well, where is she?”
John blew out a breath of frustration; everything was upside down. He explained the situation quickly, in the way that a person can do with someone they’ve known forever. With few words the two men ran to the fields and then on to the forest—together in gait. And John began to pray for Tabitha, hoping that Rob was doing the same.
Rob tramped through the woods, and his heart pulled at him as he thought of both Tabby and then John. His friend’s face was bone white and lined by the gravity of the situation. Rob could only imagine how he might feel if it was Katie or Clara who was in the woods with dark soon approaching.
He stepped over a weather-felled branch and said a quick prayer in his heart that the situation would turn out well.
“Hey, John?”
“What? Did you find something?”
Rob shook his head, then hurried to catch up as John seemed to double his pace through the dense forest floor.
“John . . . I want to apologize.”
“For what?”
Rob swallowed. “Maybe for not valuing you enough as a friend, as a person. I’ve learned a lot about life from Katie, and I know—well, I know I always haven’t treated you fairly.”
“It doesn’t matter,” John said absently, pushing ahead through some laurel overgrowth.
Rob caught the branches and kept going. “Hey, John?”
“What?”
“We’ll find her. I know she’ll be all right.”
Rob saw John’s nod and prayed in his heart that the words he spoke with such assurance were really the truth.
After an hour of searching and calling, John was deeply worried. “Anything could have happened . . . someone could have come along . . . or—”
“Don’t think like that,” Rob replied gloomily. “But perhaps we had best go back for lanterns. It’s past supper time.”
“You go and bring the men of the community to search. I’ll keep looking,” John said, already turning in a different direction toward a faint deer trail.
“All right,” Rob agreed, turning to go.
Then John bent to study the grass as he heard the bubbling of a creek in the distance.