10

Abraham brought the cow over that afternoon as he had promised. Gideon had spent the morning making a pen for her in the barn and repairing the fence that formed the boundary of the pasture. When he had first looked at the barn, he hadn’t thought it was salvageable, but when he had examined it, he saw that the roof had been sagging because one of the ridgepole’s supports had broken. Samuel and Abraham, along with the three Stuckey brothers, worked with him on Saturday, and now the roof was as solid as the day it had been built.

“That old barn looks almost new,” Abraham said as he led the cow up the lane from the road. He tugged on his beard. “We’ve both turned a bit gray, that barn and I, but it looks like we’re good for a few more years.”

Gideon glanced at the older man. “I’d say more than a few for both of you.”

But the memory of the vision of the red bloom on Abraham’s white shirt made his palms sweat. He pushed away the thought that it might have been a premonition of his friend’s death.

“We missed the children at our house this morning,” Abraham said as he put the cow in her pen and unfastened the lead from her rope halter. “With only Lydia and I for breakfast, the house was too quiet.”

Gideon leaned on the side of the pen watching the cow. “When we showed up at your door last spring, I didn’t have any idea we would be imposing on you for so long.” He swallowed. If Lovinia hadn’t been ill, he might have driven on the next morning, and then he would have missed Abraham’s friendship. The sight of Ruby sitting at the table with him in the early morning with the lamplight making her face glow, reflecting off the tendrils of red hair, jolted him. If they hadn’t stayed in Weaver’s Creek, he would never have met Ruby.

“We’re glad you stayed. And we’re also glad you’re settling so close. Lydia misses your children so much, you would think you had moved all the way to Millersburg.”

Gideon grinned. “They’ve been gone for less than a day.”

“And I passed Ruby on the road just now as she was taking them down to see Lydia.” Abraham chuckled. “My wife baked some cookies this morning, hoping she would have a chance to spoil them today.”

“I appreciate all you’ve done for them. For us. My children have never known what it is like to have grandparents, but you and Lydia have given them that gift.”

The cow found the hay Gideon had put in her manger and pulled some out with a twist of her head, the strands protruding from her mouth like whiskers as she watched them.

“The Good Lord brought you and your family to us.” Abraham leaned his forearms on the top plank of the pen. “That brings me to the subject of our church. We need you as a minister. We need you to fulfill your calling.”

Gideon’s head felt light and he took a deep breath, whooshing it out. How many times would Abraham bring this up? “That calling is over. I failed, and the Lord won’t ask me again. Look at King Saul, in the Bible. He failed, and God removed his blessing, putting David in his place.”

“There are many more examples in the Bible of God using people who failed to accomplish his purpose. That same King David comes to mind. He sinned against the Lord many times, most notably in the affair with Bathsheba, but the Bible still refers to him as a man after God’s own heart.”

Gideon didn’t answer. How could he? Abraham didn’t know how completely he had failed. How he had gone against the teachings of the church and God’s Word. Because of him, a man was dead. Because of him, his wife was gone. Because of him, their little church in Maryland had broken up, the members scattered.

“I could list many more,” Abraham said. “Paul, Peter—”

“You don’t have to name them.” Gideon ran a hand over his face. “Maybe I heard God wrong and he never called me to be a minister in the first place.”

“You were chosen by lot from among the members of your church?”

Gideon nodded.

“Then you were chosen to shepherd the flock.” Abraham stepped closer to him. “What are you afraid of?”

Still leaning on the top board of the cow’s pen, Gideon buried his face in his hands. “I lost my flock. I neglected them, and they scattered. I don’t deserve that kind of responsibility.”

Abraham was silent for a moment. “I have a question for you. Whose church do you serve? Yours, or God’s?”

Gideon peered at the other man. What point was he trying to make?

“The church is God’s church.”

“That’s right. And the people of the church are God’s people, his sheep. The minister doesn’t own them, and he isn’t the shepherd. Jesus Christ is the Good Shepherd. The best the minister can be is a faithful hireling. And Christ will never desert either his hired man or his flock.”

Gideon closed his eyes again. Abraham was wrong. God had deserted him from the time he had first heard the roll of the drums echoing over the ridge last spring. From that time until now, his life had gone terribly, horribly wrong, and everyone else had suffered for it.

Mein Herr . . .

He massaged the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t know how wrong everything has gone. I’m not fit to be a minister.”

Gideon suppressed a shudder. He didn’t even deserve to be a member of the church . . . if Abraham knew, he would send Gideon and his family on their way.

“You’ve said that before, that you think you’re responsible for everything that has happened to you.”

“I know I am.”

Abraham sighed, and Gideon waited. The older man had to see that Gideon was right.

“Imagine you are driving a spring wagon with a spirited team hitched to it. A green, barely trained team of horses.”

Gideon turned and leaned his back against the cow pen. He remembered a team like that, the ones he had raised from colts. They had been stolen by the army more than a year ago. Where were they now?

“You’re holding on to the reins, in control, even though the horses are fighting against you.”

Gideon nodded. What did this little game have to do with him?

“Now imagine that I’m sitting on the seat beside you, and I reach over, put my hands over yours, and try to drive the horses myself.”

“That could lead to a crash. The horses wouldn’t know who is driving and they would be confused.”

“That’s right.” Abraham leaned into the pen and scratched the cow’s face.

Gideon saw Abraham’s point. “I’m trying to control my life, but I’m not the driver. God is.” A cold stream of ice made its way through his stomach. “But if I let go of the reins . . .” He let his voice trail off. When he thought he controlled his life, it had been a disaster. Memories of the past year flashed through his mind, then lingered on Lovinia’s face. “If I let go of the reins the wagon will crash.”

Abraham didn’t answer.

“I don’t know how to do that. I can’t do that. I feel like this wagon of mine is careening downhill behind a team of runaway horses. Everything has gone wrong—” His voice hitched.

“Maybe it is time to let go of the reins. Submit to God’s will.”

Gideon ran his hand over his face again. Perhaps Abraham was right. He longed for the peace he had once known to fill his soul again, but first he had to fix whatever had gone wrong.

On Wednesday morning after breakfast, Ruby was just getting out the flour and butter for the day’s baking when William came to the door.

“Did you come over to play?” Ruby asked.

Her seven-year-old nephew shook his head. “Mamm says to go to Grossmutti’s today and bring the morning’s milking if you can. Daed killed one of our bull calves yesterday, and Mamm says she has rennet.”

Roseanna’s eyes grew round. “The poor calf!”

Ruby smiled. Anna had told her Samuel’s plans yesterday. The calf’s stomach lining was needed to make cheese, and Samuel knew the women of the family would want to have a work frolic for the occasion.

“It’s all right, Roseanna. The calf was doing poorly, so Samuel decided he could kill it. I wasn’t certain when he was going to do it, but now we can make cheese.”

“Can I help?” Roseanna asked.

“We’re all going to help,” William said. “Mamm says to hurry, and while we’re waiting for the cheese, we can play.”

“Why do we have to wait?” Sophia’s face puckered. “I want cheese now.”

Ruby cupped the girl’s head in her hand. “All good things are worth waiting for. We have to cook the milk, then cut the curds, then press the whey out. We will store the cheese until fall to let it ripen, but we’ll be able to eat some fresh cheese today.”

Roseanna and William took turns carrying Daniel, and Ruby carried the pail of milk Bett had given them that morning. When they reached the road, Elizabeth was already waiting for them.

“Cheese-making day!” she said. “Are you ready for a frolic?”

“William must have stopped at your house before he came to get us.”

Elizabeth took Daniel from William and carried him so William and Roseanna could run down the road toward the stone bridge. “I’m glad he did. My days have been so different since you’re here at Gideon’s all day.”

“I’m not there all day. We went to work in the garden at your cabin yesterday, and on Monday we went to Mamm’s for the afternoon.”

They walked slowly to keep pace with Ezra and Sophia.

“Anna said she has been saving milk for the cheese making all week, so we’ll have plenty to make today.”

Ruby laughed. “I thought we had more than enough last year, but Anna and Samuel have four cows now instead of three. What are we going to do with it all?”

“She’s planning to trade it at the store in Farmerstown. Mrs. Lawrence said they have plenty of customers who come in asking for good cheese, and you know ours is the best.”

“You shouldn’t brag like that.” Ruby frowned at her, and then laughed. “But it is true, isn’t it? I can’t wait for fresh cheese.”

Elizabeth waited until the children had gone into the house and stopped Ruby in the middle of the bridge. “How are things going with Gideon?”

Ruby felt her face heat but kept her voice light. “What do you mean?”

“Has he said anything about getting married? That is why you’re spending your days there, isn’t it?”

“We haven’t talked about it except to say that neither of us are looking for marriage. It’s too soon after Lovinia’s passing.”

“That might be what he says, but that was more than a month ago, wasn’t it?”

Ruby glanced toward the house, but the children had all gone inside. If she knew Mamm, they were all eating cookies before they went outside to play.

“It was a month ago today.” Only a month, but it seemed like it had happened only a few days ago.

“Well, that might be Gideon’s excuse, but what is yours? You don’t have any reason to wait. He needs a wife and you need a husband. There’s nothing complicated about that.”

“I don’t need a husband.” Ruby shifted the milk pail to her other hand. “You know that better than anyone.”

“You aren’t still thinking about Ned Hamlin, are you?”

“Not Ned, but how I acted with him. It was stupid of me, and silly to think he might have actually liked me.”

“Ned Hamlin was a pig.”

Ruby suppressed a giggle. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Elizabeth grinned at her and bounced Daniel in her arms. “But it’s true, isn’t it? He convinced you that he loved you and then took advantage of your kindness.” Her grin turned to a frown and the look in her eyes grew distant. “He was a pig, just like—” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

Ruby put one arm around her sister’s shoulders, pulling her close, and pressed her lips against Elizabeth’s ear. “I know. I know. They are both pigs. You don’t need to say it.”

Ruby’s eyes filled. It was her fault that Elizabeth had even met Reuben Kaufman. If it hadn’t been for Ruby confiding in Elizabeth about her dalliance with Ned, her sister might be happily married to one of the Stuckey boys, or one of the Lehman brothers. Anyone but Reuben.

Movement at the top of the hill they had just walked down caught Ruby’s eyes. “Someone is coming this way. It looks like the Beilers’ wagon.”

Elizabeth shifted Daniel to her other hip. “I don’t want to stay here and risk having a conversation with Salome Beiler. That woman acts as if I don’t exist just because I’m not a member of the church.”

“Let’s go into the house. Mamm and Anna are waiting for us.”

But they were too late. Before they reached the porch, the Beilers’ spring wagon crossed the bridge and pulled to a halt. Levi was driving and crimped the wheels so his mother could climb down from the seat safely.

“Don’t forget to pick me up on your way back,” Salome said to Levi. “I don’t want to walk home from here.”

“Yes, Mother.” Levi held the horses still until Salome was on the porch next to Ruby. He briefly met her eyes and shrugged an apology before the horses were off again.

“He is on his way to Farmerstown to see if there are any letters from Jonas, the dear boy. He goes twice a week and then delivers the letters to Katie.” She shook her head. “If only that girl would come to her senses and marry my Levi instead of that soldier.”

As Salome pushed her way past Ruby and Elizabeth, Ruby exchanged glances with her sister. Salome seemed to have forgotten that “that soldier” was their brother. Or perhaps she hadn’t forgotten. Salome could be as kind as anyone when she wanted to be, but her tongue could also cut like a knife.

“Ach, a cheese-making frolic!” Salome was saying as Ruby and Elizabeth went into the kitchen. “Don’t mind me. I won’t get in your way. I only stopped by to chat for a bit until Levi comes back from Farmerstown.”

Mamm smiled as she poured a cup of tea for Salome and set it in front of her. “We’re glad you stopped by. Aren’t we, girls?”

“You are so blessed to have such a wonderful daughter and daughter-in-law to work with you.” Salome untied her bonnet and laid it on the table. “At our house, there are only Millie and I to do the work. But that will change when Levi marries.”

“I have two daughters and a daughter-in-law helping today, Salome, and it is a wonderful blessing.” Mamm’s smile was tight as she hung Salome’s bonnet on a hook by the door where it would be out of the way.

The children slipped out of the door one by one, led by William. Sophia, her cookie uneaten in her hand, stared at Salome until Ruby gave her a gentle push toward the door too.

Ruby set her pail of milk on the kitchen shelf, then took Daniel from Elizabeth. He was fussing, ready for a drink of milk and his morning nap.

“Here’s some milk for the baby,” Mamm said, handing her a cup.

Ruby sat down at the table and Daniel reached for the cup. She helped him guide it to his mouth and take a sip, then used a clean diaper to mop up the drips.

She turned slightly in her seat to make Daniel more comfortable and saw that Salome was watching her with a queer expression on her face.

“You’ve become quite the expert mother,” Salome said. “I noticed the other three children are quite clean and well behaved too. Gideon must be very happy with you.”

Ruby glanced at the others, but they were busy. Anna was at the stove, stirring the first batch of milk in a big pot, and Elizabeth was tying a string to the bit of rennet. Mamm was sorting through the cheese hoops Daed had made. None of them were paying attention to Salome’s needling remarks.

“I don’t know if Gideon is happy or not. We don’t talk to each other very often.” Unless you counted the cup of coffee they had together each morning after she arrived at the house to make breakfast for the family.

“Has he spoken of marriage? Are you planning to make your arrangement acceptable in the eyes of the church?” Salome crossed her arms and leaned against the back of her chair.

Daniel rubbed his eyes and leaned against her, pushing the empty cup away. Ruby’s hand shook as she set the cup on the table. “There is nothing about our arrangement that would be considered unacceptable in the eyes of anyone, including the church.”

Salome’s mouth curved in a smile that made her look like a snake. Ruby turned Daniel around and he rested his head on her shoulder, sighing deeply as he drifted off to sleep. She didn’t look at Salome again as she went into Mamm’s bedroom to lay him down for his morning nap.

She shouldn’t let the woman’s comments bother her, but they did. Salome thought she and Gideon were in a sinful relationship when they had no thought of anything like that. Salome was wrong, but she might not be the only one who assumed the worst.

Friday morning brought visitors to the Beiler farm. Levi straightened up from his work in the wheat field to see who was driving the wagon. It was Abraham Weaver, with Gideon next to him in the seat. He set aside the sheaf of wheat he had just tied and headed toward the house. He could return Gideon’s book to him while he was here.

By the time he reached the house, Abraham was seated on the porch with Father, while Gideon stood near them, leaning on the porch rail.

“It’s highly irregular,” Father said, ignoring Levi’s approach.

Levi joined Gideon, leaning against the porch post as he listened.

“What is so irregular?” Abraham asked. “Gideon is already a minister. We would only need to leave it to the congregation to decide if they are willing to accept his transfer from his church in Maryland to our community.” Abraham seemed relaxed as he rocked in Mother’s chair, but his fingers drummed on the armrest.

“I understand that church in Maryland no longer exists.”

Father folded his hands over his stomach, and Gideon flinched slightly at his words.

Abraham looked toward Gideon, his eyebrows raised.

Gideon hesitated, then said, “That is true. Our community had settled along a main road, but the soldiers of both armies have used that road as they moved back and forth. They destroyed our crops, ate our livestock, and stole our horses. The people had no other choice but to move away, and most of them moved north to Pennsylvania where they had family.”

Father frowned. “Why didn’t you go with them? The community should stay together, shouldn’t they?”

Gideon cast a look toward Abraham, who nodded his head. “Most of the community left while I was away.”

“Away.” Father made a disapproving sound that made Levi wince. “And where did you go when you abandoned your church?”

“My wagon, my team, and I were seized by a company of soldiers. I was forced to use my wagon to haul their supplies and their wounded men.”

Abraham leaned forward. “His absence was out of his control. He didn’t abandon his church, he was taken from them.”

Father stroked his beard. “That’s what he says now.”

Gideon stood straight, his fists clenched. “You are saying that I have lied to you?”

Father raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m not accusing you of lying. But we have no one to be a witness to your story.” He rocked back in his chair, preparing for his next accusation. “There is also the question of your home life. A minister should be above reproach.”

Levi stood to protest, but Abraham’s soft voice cut in first.

“You can’t think that Gideon’s life has anything in it that is sinful, can you?”

“I have heard that your daughter Ruby, your unmarried daughter, is at his house at all hours of the day and night. That is highly improper.”

Abraham grunted, a sound that was almost a growl. “There is nothing improper in Ruby caring for Gideon’s children while he works. She is at the house while Gideon works with me on the farm, and no longer than is necessary for the care of the family. I don’t know where you heard this rumor, but it is false.”

“Is it a rumor?” Father gazed at Gideon, whose face was dark red. “A man is still a man, and his wife has been dead for more than a month.” He smiled. “No one would be surprised to hear that you gave in to temptation with an available young woman, but that sin is still sin. I can’t recommend a man like that to be a minister in our church.”

“There is nothing sinful going on between me and Ruby,” Gideon said. “But if someone in the church thinks so badly of me, I’m not sure I want to be considered as a minister. I can’t serve in a place where folks don’t trust me.”

Gideon stepped off the porch and stalked toward the wagon. Abraham rose to follow him but turned to Father first.

“At this point, you are the only minister in our congregation, Amos. That is against the Ordnung and the tradition of the church. That is too much power for one man, and it can easily be abused.”

Father rubbed his hands together, looking at the porch floor as if he was thinking deeply. “You are correct in that, Abraham. That is why I have arranged for the election next week. But I can’t agree to inviting Gideon to fill that position without consulting the congregation and without confirmation from the Good Lord. If he is nominated, he will have the same consideration as any other nominee. That should satisfy him, shouldn’t it?”

“It isn’t Gideon who needs to be satisfied, but God. He is the one who called Gideon to serve him, and that is a permanent calling. It isn’t in your hands.” Abraham took a step closer to Father. “I had to convince Gideon to come here today. This wasn’t his choice. I am ashamed of how you treated him.”

“To me, he’s an outsider.” Father’s eyes narrowed. “You may think he is as he appears, but I wonder what his motives really are.”

“You are suspicious beyond belief, Amos. Perhaps you should spend some time with him, like Levi has, and like I have.”

Abraham followed Gideon to the wagon and they drove off. Father watched them go with a frown on his face.

Mother tipped the screen door open. “What was that all about, Amos?”

“That Gideon Fischer wants to be brought in as a minister in our church.”

Stepping out onto the porch, Mother barely glanced at Levi. “You didn’t agree, did you?”

“For sure, I didn’t.” Father shook his head. “We don’t want a man who acts the way he does to hold a position of such influence.”

“What do you mean?” Levi couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Gideon acts the same as anyone else. That rumor you mentioned is false. It has to be.”

Father’s eyebrows rose as he turned toward Levi as if he was surprised to see him there. “I hate to mention such a delicate subject around a boy like you, but Gideon and Ruby have been seen conferring closely together, much closer than is proper for an employer and employee.”

“And she treats those children as if they were her own,” Mother said. “I can only imagine what sinful things go on behind closed doors.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to see you spending time with that man anymore, Levi. You don’t know what he might influence you to do.”

“There is nothing wrong with Gideon, and Ruby is only helping him out by caring for the children since his wife died. He’s a good man.”

As his parents exchanged glances, Levi remembered the conversation he had overheard. How could they suspect Gideon and Ruby of falling into the same sin they had?

Father gestured toward the wheat field. “How far have you gotten in your work today, Levi?”

“Half of the wheat is bundled and shocked.” Levi glanced down the road but could no longer see Abraham and Gideon. “I have a book to return to Gideon. I’ll do it during the noon hour.”

“Don’t stop to talk to them,” Father said. “You heard what your mother said, and I want that wheat in the shocks by this evening.”

“I’ll get it done.”

Rather than pushing past Father to go into the house through the front door, Levi went around to the back door, stopping to wash his hands before going in. Mother was still on the front porch with Father, but he could smell the appetizing fragrance of dinner in the oven, and a pot of potatoes was boiling on the stove. Never mind. He would rather go without eating than to sit at the dinner table with Father and Mother today. How could they accuse Gideon and Ruby of wrongdoing? They couldn’t have witnesses, only suspicions. Hypocrisy was a mild word for what he had witnessed on their front porch this morning.

Levi retrieved the book from his room and set out for Gideon’s house. He would have to hurry to return home by the end of the noon hour.

No one was in the yard when he arrived at the newly painted house, so he went to the kitchen door and knocked. Gideon opened the door.

“Come in, Levi.” He stepped back as he pulled the door open. “You’re just in time to join us for dinner.”

Past his friend, Levi saw the children sitting at the table. Ruby, holding the baby in one arm, was already setting a clean plate in a spot for him.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.” He held up the book. “I just wanted to return your copy of Menno Simons, and to apologize.”

“Come and sit down. We’ll talk while we’re eating.”

Levi set the book on the end of the kitchen shelf, then sat next to Gideon at the table. He bowed his head for a silent prayer while the others waited, then helped himself to the mashed potatoes Ruby passed to him.

“I haven’t seen your house before,” Levi said. He looked around at the comfortable kitchen and the front room that he could see on the other side of the stairway leading to the loft. Everything looked clean. Homey. He relaxed and dished some chicken and noodles on top of the mashed potatoes.

“You’re welcome to stop by any time,” Gideon said. “Ruby always cooks more than enough food for our family.”

Ruby smiled at Levi. “Mamm taught me to always be prepared in case a friend drops by during mealtime.”

A friend. Levi nodded his thanks to Ruby and took a bite of his dinner. He felt more welcome here in this little cabin than he did at the table at home.

Roseanna was watching him. “Where do you live?”

“Roseanna, let Levi eat his dinner,” Ruby said, reminding Roseanna of her manners with a slight frown.

“I don’t mind,” Levi said. “I live with my parents on their farm.” He smiled at Roseanna as he put some pickled beets on his plate.

“Do I know them?” Roseanna asked.

“They are Preacher Amos and his wife, Salome,” Gideon said, answering for Levi. “You’ve seen them at Sunday Meeting.”

“And Salome came by when we were making cheese this week,” Ruby said.

“Oh.” Roseanna looked at him again. Levi thought he saw a flash of pity on the little girl’s face, but that had to be his imagination.

After dinner, Ruby and the children cleared the table while Gideon took the baby and led the way into the front room. There was a comfortable rocking chair in one corner and a bench along the wall. Gideon sat in the chair, holding the baby against his chest. The little boy’s eyes were closed.

“I can’t stay long,” Levi said, taking a seat on the bench. “Father expects me to finish shocking the wheat before nightfall. I am sorry for the way he acted this morning. He can be obstinate and demanding, but I don’t remember him being so rude before.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gideon said. “Going to see Amos was Abraham’s idea, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be a minister again. Shepherding a flock is not an easy calling.”

Levi studied the planks of the floor. Not too long ago, he had thought the calling to be a minister was the most important thing a man could do. “How is it hard? Father doesn’t seem to think it is.”

Gideon rocked the chair. “Perhaps it isn’t for some men. But I have always felt the weight of the responsibility. Sometimes, that weight nearly cripples me.”

“Shouldn’t the minister rely on the Lord to help him bear that weight?”

The rocking chair slowed. “All I can think of is how the people depend on me, but Abraham recently reminded me that the job isn’t mine alone.”

Levi laced his fingers together and propped his elbows on his knees. “I think that if I were a minister, I wouldn’t think of it as my task at all. Something I read once makes me think that the ministers aren’t the shepherds of the church, but only the helpers. The hired men. Jesus is the Good Shepherd.”

“Abraham said the same thing.” Gideon shifted Daniel to his other shoulder. “But your father doesn’t seem to believe that.”

Gideon’s words dug into Levi. His friend was right. Father didn’t believe that at all. In fact, Levi wasn’t sure what Father believed.

“I hope you are chosen to be our minister,” Levi said. “There is no one else I can think of who would make a better one, unless it was Abraham.”

“What about yourself?”

Levi gazed at the floor between his feet. “There was a time when I was prideful enough to think that was my calling. But now all I want is to do God’s will, whatever it is. I have no ambitions other than his plan.”

“Gelassenheit.”

Levi smiled at Gideon. “Ja. Gelassenheit.”