Читать книгу Redeeming Grace - Emma Miller - Страница 13

Chapter Four

“Wake up, Schweschder,” Susanna called, pushing open Grace’s bedroom door. “Wait till you see! Mam sent you new clothes. And Plain clothes for Dakota, too.”

Grace stifled a groan. Surely it couldn’t be time to get up yet. It wasn’t even light out. How was Susanna always so happy this early in the morning? Still, Susanna had called her sister, and the word glowed warm in Grace’s heart. At least someone thought she belonged here.

Susanna placed a kerosene lamp carefully on the dresser, and a circle of soft yellow light spread across the room. “Mam says it’s time to get up.”

“I’m coming,” Grace promised. Getting up before dawn was hard. She’d never been a morning person and rarely came fully awake until her second cup of coffee. Groaning, she pushed back the heavy quilt. She was no quitter. She’d do whatever she had to do to prove to Hannah that she was worthy of becoming one of them.

The room was cool and the feather ticks and quilt that covered the bed toasty. Dakota was snuggled beside her, black hair all spiky and one arm wrapped tightly around his stuffed bunny. Intense love for her son washed over Grace. Dakota was what mattered most in the world to her. His welfare was more important than anything else. The past three days hadn’t been easy, but the worst had to be behind her if Hannah had sent them Amish clothing. If they dressed like the rest of the family, it had to be easier for them to fit into the household and the community.

Dakota sighed and burrowed deeper under the covers. She’d tucked him into the trundle bed as she had for the past three nights since Irwin had carried it down from the attic. She knew he should be sleeping in his own bed, but every morning, when she awoke, Dakota was in her bed. Back in Nebraska, he’d slept alone, but since she’d uprooted his life, he didn’t want to be apart from her, especially at night. And who could blame him? Seven Poplars was a world apart from a trailer park on the wrong side of the tracks. If she was confused, how much more must Dakota be?

“Mam is making blueberry pancakes,” Susanna supplied cheerfully. “And today the Kings come. To stay with us.” She bounced from one foot to another in excitement. “Do you want me to take Dakota to the potty and brush his teeth?”

“Would you?” Grace leaned down and whispered in her son’s ear. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Dakota sat up, yawned and rubbed his eyes. A lopsided grin spread over his face when he caught sight of Susanna. Sometimes, Grace found Susanna’s speech a little hard to understand, but Dakota seemed to have no trouble at all. He’d taken to Susanna, as Joe would have said, “Like a cowboy to hot biscuits.”

Thoughts of Joe were bittersweet, and Grace pushed his image away. So many mistakes...but then there was Dakota, her precious son.

Susanna held out her chubby arms, and Dakota scrambled out of the bed and bounced into her embrace. “I’ll help him get dressed, too.” Dakota waved over Susanna’s shoulder as she scooped up a small shirt and a pair of blue overalls and went happily off with her.

Grace’s pulse quickened as she looked at the neatly folded stack of clothing. Her hands trembled as she reached for the white head covering on top, but when she picked it up, she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. It wasn’t a proper Kapp, not like the ones Hannah and her daughters wore. It was white cotton, starched and hand-stitched, but more like a Mennonite head covering than Amish. She’d seen Mennonites in the Midwest; they sort of dressed like everyone else, just more modestly.

The long-sleeved calico dress was robin’s egg blue with a pattern of tiny white flowers that fell a good three inches below her knees. It wasn’t new, but it fit as if it had been made for her. And once she tied the starched white apron over the dress and added the dark stockings and sensible navy blue sneakers, Grace had to admit that it was a great improvement over the outfit she had arrived in. But it definitely wasn’t Amish.

“Small steps,” she murmured under her breath. “I should be grateful that Hannah didn’t toss me out in the rain.” Instantly, she felt guilty for her lack of patience. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and offered a fervent prayer of apology and thanks. “I’m still fumbling in the dark, Lord,” she whispered. “I came here looking for a father, and instead You showed me the possibility of a whole family. Help me to do what’s right for Dakota and me.”

Grace knew that she had much to atone for and much to learn. But surely, a merciful God wouldn’t give her a glimpse of heaven, only to snatch it all away.

“Grace?”

Grace rose hastily and turned to see Hannah standing in the open doorway.

“I’m sorry,” Hannah said. “I didn’t mean to disturb your prayers.”

Grace felt her cheeks grow warm. How long had Hannah been standing there? Had she heard her prayer? Unconsciously, Grace put a hand to her cap, checking to see if it was securely pinned in place. “You didn’t... I mean, I was done. I...” She hesitated. “I thought... These clothes aren’t...”

“They’re Plain,” Hannah said. “Not Amish, but not English, either. Halfway, as you are, Grace. Actually, the dress is a gift from your sister Leah’s Aunt Joyce, by marriage. She’s Mennonite. Leah married into the family.”

“Anna told me that Leah and her husband, Daniel, were missionaries in Brazil. I didn’t think that was allowed....”

Hannah’s features softened. “Our way, the Old Order Amish way, must be chosen freely by each person. I can’t deny that I was surprised that Leah chose another path to God, the Mennonite path, but I accept it as part of His plan.”

“Oh.” Grace couldn’t imagine that her sister would want to leave Seven Poplars for Brazil. And to be Amish and give it up...

“Leah’s husband, Daniel, has an aunt nearby. Joyce and I have become friends. When I saw her at Byler’s and mentioned you, she said that a niece had outgrown some dresses that might fit you. Joyce dropped them off yesterday, but they were a little long.”

“I always have to hem stuff,” Grace said. “I’m short.”

“Your father wasn’t a tall man.” Hannah folded her arms. “I hope you like the cap and apron. Rebecca sewed them for you.”

“I do.” Grace took a deep breath. “And I appreciate the clothing. But I don’t want to be a burden. I’ll get a job just as soon as I can and contribute money to the household.” She thought as she spoke aloud. “There must be hotels in Dover. I’ve worked in housekeeping a lot and most places have a big turnover. I’m not sure what I’d do for transportation. Is there a bus—”

“Ne.” Hannah shook her head. “Not permitted.”

Grace looked at her. “You mean I...we aren’t allowed to use public transportation? Is there a rule against—”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “You cannot work in a hotel. Housekeeping for English is sometimes allowed in private homes, but the bishop must approve it. He would never allow a woman to work in such a place.”

“Being a maid is respectable,” Grace argued. “We hardly see the guests at all. I wouldn’t be alone. Two girls work together to clean the rooms.”

“Too worldly. At Spence’s Auction you could work, or at Byler’s. Even Fifer’s Orchard. But not as a hotel maid. We keep apart from the world.”

Grace stared at the hardwood floor. “I’m not sure what I can do, then.”

Hannah sighed. “I’m sorry, Grace. If times were better, Eli and Roman could use you in the office at the chair shop. But this winter there’s barely enough work for the men.”

“I know the economy is bad,” Grace said in an attempt to remain positive. “But I’ve worked since I was fourteen. That’s why I thought housekeeping—”

“Ne. Maybe Johanna would let you help with her quilting. She sells her quilts in English shops.”

Grace grimaced. “I can’t sew. I’m all thumbs when it comes to replacing a button.”

“Maybe her bees. She has nine beehives and collects honey for—”

“I’m allergic to bees.” Grace’s shoulders slumped. “The last time I was stung, I ended up in the emergency room. I didn’t have insurance, and it took me two years to pay off the bill.”

“Then we’ll have to keep you away from the beehives. We don’t have insurance, either.” Hannah met Grace’s gaze. “We Amish put our trust in God, and if the worst happens, we help each other to pay the expense.” She smiled. “Have faith, Grace. He brought you to us, and He won’t abandon you now. We’ll put our heads together and find a job for you.” Her eyes twinkled. “One that Bishop Atlee and even my sister-in-law Martha will approve of.”

From the way Hannah’s nose wrinkled when she mentioned Martha, Grace had a feeling that Martha might be harder to please than the bishop. “I don’t believe I’ve met her yet, have I?” Since she and Dakota had come to the Yoder farm, there’d been a steady stream of visitors, but she didn’t remember anyone named Martha.

“Ne, you haven’t. Martha, Reuben and their daughter, Dorcas, have gone to Lancaster to a Coblentz wedding. Reuben is a Coblentz.” Hannah brushed the wrinkles out of her starched apron. “Now we should eat our breakfast before it gets cold. It will be a busy day, and I don’t want to be late for school.”

“If you would tell me what you need done before you leave, I can—”

“Johanna knows. And I should be home before the Kings arrive. We don’t expect them until supper time. It all depends on what time their driver picked them up this morning. They spent last night with relatives in Ohio and still have a long drive today.”

“It’s good of you to have them stay with you.”

“Roman’s house is small, and they have children. Ebben is a second cousin of your father. They could have stayed with their daughter and her husband, but they live over by Black Bottom. Better Ebben be here to see to finishing their house. You’ll like Sadie, a sensible woman with a good heart. Full of fun. Always the jokes, Sadie.”

Pondering how different Amish life was than what she’d expected, Grace followed Hannah out of the bedroom. She’d thought her father’s people would be stern and solemn, sort of like modern-day Pilgrims. Instead, she’d found gentle ways and easy laughter, making her realize just how much she’d missed out on by not being raised as one of them. If I had, she thought, everything would be so different. And I wouldn’t have so much to ask forgiveness for....

When they reached the kitchen, Grace saw Rebecca, Susanna, Irwin, Aunt Jezzy and the children already seated while Johanna carried a steaming platter of pancakes to the table. Susanna was pouring milk for the little ones as Rebecca slid sausage onto Jonah’s plate. No one seemed to mind that Katie already had a mouthful of applesauce before silent prayer.

Dakota looked up at Grace and grinned. She stopped short and stared at him. Dakota’s handmade blue shirt and overalls were identical to the ones worn by Johanna’s

Jonah. Grace had been meaning to trim his hair. It grew so fast that it always needed cutting. But now, she saw that the style was just right. Black hair or not, Dakota looked exactly like any other little Amish boy. Fresh hope welled up inside her as she blinked back tears of happiness. She would make a life for them here. She had to. They could never go back to living as they had before.

“Coffee?” Johanna asked as Grace slid into an empty chair.

“Yes, please, but I can get—”

“I’m up. Mam?”

Hannah nodded, and Johanna returned with the pot.

The odor of fresh coffee assaulted Grace’s senses. She knew from every other cup she’d enjoyed in Hannah’s kitchen that the brew would be just the way she liked it—hot, and strong enough to dissolve a spoon, as her mother would have said. Johanna took her seat, and Grace bowed her head along with everyone at the table, including the children.

A moment or two later, everyone was digging into breakfast, more interested in the delicious meal than talking. It gave Grace time to compose herself and smile at Johanna. “I’ll be glad to help you get ready for your guests,” she murmured shyly.

“Willing hands are always welcome. Anna, Ruth and Miriam are coming over once they finish morning chores at home. Between us, we can roast a turkey, prepare enough food for company and get the house shining.”

“And me,” Susanna reminded. “I can help.”

“You’re always a good helper,” Johanna said. “And you’ll do us a big favor if you can keep Jonah, Katie, Dakota and Anna’s Mae out of trouble while we’re busy.”

Susanna giggled. “We’ll make oatmeal kichlin. With raisin faces.”

“Cookies!” Jonah chimed in. “I like cookies.”

“Me, too,” Dakota echoed. Katie clapped her hands. As Johanna had said, Katie was just learning English, but it was clear she understood everything being said at the table.

Grace was just accepting the platter of pancakes from Johanna when Irwin’s terrier began to bark. Surprised, Grace turned to look toward the door. Surely her sisters wouldn’t be here this early in the morning.

Hannah rose, motioning to the others to remain at the table. When a knock came, everyone stopped talking. Hannah removed her scarf and quickly put on her Kapp.

“I hope nothing is wrong,” Aunt Jezzy said. “The sun isn’t up yet.”

Hannah opened the door and laughed. “John, you are an early bird. Come in. We’re just sitting down to breakfast.”

Rebecca cut her eyes at Johanna and stifled a giggle.

“John!” Susanna cried. “It’s John.”

Everyone was looking at him, but John didn’t seem to mind. He stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together. “It’s cold out there. You don’t have a cup of coffee to spare for a frozen friend, do you?”

“Of course.” Hannah chuckled. “Take off your coat and come to the table. We have plenty.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” John answered with a grin. “I’ve been up all night with one of Clarence Miller’s cows.”

“Bad off?” Johanna asked.

“Delivered safely of twin heifers,” John pronounced. “Although it was a near thing. The first one was breech. If Clarence hadn’t come for me, I’m afraid they would have lost all three.”

“Thanks be to God,” Aunt Jezzy said.

John tucked his gloves into his coat pockets and hung his coat on a hook near the door. “I didn’t come empty-handed,” he said to Hannah. “Clarence just butchered two days ago. He insisted on giving me a ham and a pork loin. I left them in the cold box on the porch. You’re welcome to them, and I know you can use them with company coming.”

“Grace.” Johanna nudged her. “Could you set a plate for John and pour him some coffee?”

Grace nodded. “Sure.” John smiled and winked at her as she got up, and she felt herself blushing. What was it about him that made her feel as if she had two left feet? She’d always been more at ease around men than women. But John Hartman was different. When he looked at her, her wits scattered like fall leaves in a windstorm.

“Don’t put yourself out for me,” he said. “I know where Hannah keeps the cups.”

“No,” Grace insisted. “You sit. You’re company.” Thinking about John was distracting, but it made her feel good that Johanna had asked for help. It made Grace feel warm inside to welcome someone into the house. For a few minutes she could almost convince herself that she had always been one of them.

“Look at you,” he said, making a show of staring at her. “Dress and apron, prayer cap.”

Grace’s throat clenched. Was he making fun of her? “Hannah gave them to me,” she said. It came out a whisper.

John saw that his teasing had upset her. “I think you look fine,” he said with another warm smile. “More than fine. I think you look...”

“Plain?” Hannah said, coming to his rescue.

“I was going to say pretty,” he answered. “And Plain. Nice. The blue brings out the blue in your eyes.”

Now everyone was staring at her. Woodenly, she walked to the stove and reached for the coffeepot.

“Watch it!” John warned, lunging across the room and throwing out a hand to block her arm. “You need a hot mitt. You don’t want to burn yourself.”

Grace yanked her arm back almost as fast as she would have if she had been burned. For a second, their gazes met, and she saw the real concern in John’s eyes. Then she took a step back. “Sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t think.”

“Ne,” Susanna said. “You don’t want to get a burn. Becca did. Becca burned herself on the stove. She got the blister. Mam had to put medicine on it.”

John found a hot mitt and handed it to Grace.

“Thank you,” she said. “That was dumb of me.”

“Not dumb,” he answered in a deep, rich voice. “We all make silly mistakes.” He opened a cupboard door, removed a mug and held it out to her. She forced her hands not to tremble as she filled the cup nearly to the brim. “Thank you, Grace Yoder,” he said.

Rebecca giggled.

“Come back to the table, you two, before breakfast turns to ice,” Hannah called. “You say both calves were heifers, John?”

He gave Grace a warm grin before turning back to the table. “Pretty calves, both of them. Big. A little tired, but they were both on their feet and nursing when I left the barn. Clarence is lucky. They’ll make a fine addition to his dairy herd if he decides not to sell them.”

“Late in the year for calves,” Irwin said between mouthfuls of pancake.

“Or early.” John took a chair. “Clarence didn’t intend for her to calve in November. He said Reuben’s bull broke down the fence between their farms and got into his pasture.”

Grace was grateful that the conversation had turned to animals and away from her. She’d heard lots of talk about livestock around the rodeo, and she’d grown used to it. It was clear that John was dedicated to his work. He didn’t seem the least put out that he’d had to miss a night’s sleep in one of his client’s barns. Even on such a cold night.

“I saw your lights as I was on the way home,” he was saying. “I hoped that if I threw myself on your mercy, you’d feed me. Yesterday morning, Uncle Albert insisted on making oatmeal from scratch. It was awful, as thick and gummy as paste. He thought it was wonderful, and there was no way I could get away from the table without eating a bowl the size of my head.”

Susanna giggled. “The size of my head,” she echoed.

“I can’t imagine what it would be this morning for breakfast,” John continued, glancing across the table at Grace and smiling with his eyes. “I was just hoping it wouldn’t be more oatmeal.”

“Ya,” Irwin agreed. “Probably so.”

“That or his French toast,” John replied. “And he always burns that. Says charcoal is good for the digestion.” Everyone, including Grace and John and the children, laughed at that.

“It must be hard for the three of you,” Hannah said. “Three men with no woman to cook for you.”

“It’s a heavy burden, I can tell you.” John grinned again. “I’d do the cooking, but the truth is, mine is worse than Uncle Albert’s.”

As the meal continued, Grace tried to convince herself that John was just a friend who had stopped by unexpectedly, that she had no reason to think he was paying special attention to her. She tried to eat, but even the coffee seemed to have no taste at all. She forced herself to concentrate on finishing the single pancake she’d put on her plate before John had arrived.

“Another reason for stopping by, besides starvation,” John went on. “The young man who cleans our kennels hasn’t come in to work for three days. He didn’t even call to let us know he had quit. We’re desperate for help. I was wondering if Irwin might like to come by after school for a few hours and maybe half a day on Saturdays? What do you think, Irwin?”

“Me?” He looked up. “I don’t know, John. Are they big dogs?”

“You like dogs,” John said. “Look how good you are with Jeremiah. You’d be cleaning cages, doing some grooming, helping with—”

“Don’t know.” Irwin stared at his plate and pushed a piece of pancake into a pool of syrup. “I’ve got chores...and homework. Saturdays I’m pretty busy here on the farm.”

“Nine dollars an hour to start,” John said. “And I could arrange for you to have a ride to the clinic. You wouldn’t have to—”

“I could do it,” Grace interrupted.

Everyone looked at her.

She took a deep breath. “I used to work in a big kennel. I’m good with dogs. And...and I need a job.”

John looked surprised. “It’s hard work, Grace. Dirty work.”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m not afraid of hard work. And I know dogs. I like them and they like me.” She glanced at Hannah. Unable to read her face, she looked back at John. “If you’ll give me a chance, I promise you won’t regret it.”