On Her Own (3 page)

The bus ride to Missouri gave Paul plenty of time to think. How was Dan’s widow holding up? What kind of reception would he receive from his family? How long would he be expected to stay after the funeral?

Paul thought about that day four years ago when he’d decided to leave home. He had been farming with his dad and brothers since he’d finished the eighth grade—first when they lived in Pennsylvania, where Paul had been born, and later when Pop moved his family to Missouri. Paul had never enjoyed farming. He’d wanted to learn a trade—preferably harness making. But there was already one harness shop in the area, owned by David Zook. Paul didn’t figure their small community needed another one, and he was sure David wouldn’t hire him, because his wife, Barbara, already worked in the shop.

When Paul’s cousin Andy, who ran a harness shop in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, had invited Paul to come work for him, Paul had jumped at the chance. Paul’s mother had said she could understand why he wanted to leave, although she would miss him terribly, but Paul’s father had shouted at Paul, calling him a
glotzkeppich naar
.

I may be stubborn, but I’m sure no fool
, Paul thought as he gripped the armrest of his seat on the bus.
I like my job, and I’m
much happier living in Pennsylvania than I was in Missouri
.

Guilt stabbed Paul’s conscience. He liked his work at Andy’s harness shop, but he wasn’t really happy. Something was missing, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Andy kept telling Paul he needed to find a good wife and have a passel of kinner. Andy had been married to Sharon for five years, and they had three children already. He often said how much joy he found in being a husband and father.

Paul didn’t think he would ever get married. He was thirty years old and had never had a serious relationship with a woman. Truth was, Paul was afraid of marriage, because with marriage usually came children, and since Paul had so little patience with kids, he feared he wouldn’t make a good father. He figured his dislike of children went two ways, because most of the kids he’d known had avoided him like he had a case of chicken pox.

Paul’s thoughts shifted to his brother’s untimely death. Dan’s passing was only eight months after David Zook died. Mom had written to Paul about the accident that killed David, leaving his wife to raise their three sons and manage the harness shop on her own.

I wonder how Barbara’s getting along. Did she hire someone to help in the shop, or could she have sold David’s business by now? If she hasn’t sold the place yet, maybe she’s looking for someone to buy her out
.

Paul stared out the bus window, barely noticing the passing scenery.
Don’t get any dumb ideas. You’re going back to Pennsylvania as soon as Dan’s funeral is over
.

T
here’s no reason for you to stay here with me,” Barbara said to her mother, who stood just inside the kitchen doorway. “You and Dad should both go to the funeral.”

Mom shook her head vigorously. “And leave you here in a weakened condition with three little ones and a new boppli? I would never do that, daughter.”

There was no arguing with her mother once she’d made up her mind about something. Barbara pushed a wayward strand of hair away from her face and grimaced. She hadn’t done a good job of putting up her bun this morning. For that matter, she didn’t feel as if she had done much of anything right since she’d gotten out of bed. She had yelled at Joseph and Zachary for being too loud, scolded Aaron for picking on his younger brothers, and dropped a carton of eggs in the middle of the
kitchen floor. Maybe her weakened condition caused her to have no control over her emotions. Or perhaps it was the fact that Dan Hilty’s death had opened up the wounds of losing her husband. In either case, Barbara couldn’t go to Dan’s funeral. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she needed her mother’s help.

She took a seat at the table. “You’re right, Mom. I do need help. Would you be willing to watch the buwe at your house while I tend to the boppli?” She was glad her folks lived next door, making it easy for her to go over for lunch with the boys. She didn’t want them to think she had abandoned them now that there was a baby brother in the house.

Mom sat in the chair opposite Barbara and poured some tea. “I’d be happy to look out for your boys.” She handed a cup to Barbara. “Your daed’s got them out helping with chores. After breakfast, I’ll take the boys over to my place and find something to keep everyone occupied so you can rest awhile. You look all done in.”

Barbara released a drawn-out sigh. “I’ll sure be glad when little David starts sleeping more and eating less often. He woke me every couple of hours last night.”

Her mother’s blue eyes held a note of sympathy. “All the more reason you should rest during the day whenever possible.”

The wooden chair groaned as Barbara leaned against the back. “It’s not just the lack of sleep that has me feeling so down.”

“What else is bothering you?”

“I’m worried about the harness shop. I appreciate that Dad’s been helping me since David died, but he can’t run it alone. As you know, his arthritic fingers don’t work so good, and there’s too
much for just one person to do.”

Mom tapped her fingernails along the edge of the table. “Maybe you could hire someone to help while you’re getting your strength back.”

“Who would I hire? No one in our community does harness work, and Dad doesn’t know enough about it to teach them.” Barbara sniffed. “Dad barely manages when I’m not there to oversee things.”

“That’s true. Maybe keeping the shop isn’t such a good idea.” Mom leaned slightly forward. “Have you thought about running an ad in
The Budget
to try and sell off the supplies?”

“I don’t think I could part with David’s harness shop. It meant too much to him.” Barbara stared down at the table as a familiar lump formed in her throat. “And it means a lot to me. I enjoy working there, Mom. Can you understand that?”

“What I understand is that my daughter’s been working hard in that shop ever since her husband died—even throughout most of her pregnancy.” Mom released a long sigh. “I know you want to prove you can support yourself and the buwe, but you can’t do it alone. Your daed will help in the shop as long as he’s able, and I’m sure David’s folks will help with finances if needed.”

Barbara stood. “I won’t have you and Dad, or my husband’s parents, taking care of us until the boys are raised. That’s my job, and I’ll do it.” She started across the room but turned back around. “I hope you know that I appreciate your concerns and all the help you’ve offered.”

Mom nodded. “I know you do.”

“I’m going upstairs to check on the boppli, but I’ll be back before Dad and the kinner come in for breakfast.”

Barbara was almost to the kitchen door when her mother said, “Say, I just thought of something.”

“What’s that?”

“I spoke with Faith Hertzler yesterday morning, and she said she’d seen Dan’s brother, Paul. Guess he came home for the funeral.”

Barbara faced her mother. “I suppose he would.”

“Paul’s been living in Pennsylvania these last four years. . .working at his cousin’s harness shop.”

“So I heard.”

“Maybe Paul would be willing to stick around awhile and work at your shop. Would you like me to ask your daed to talk with him about it today?”

Barbara shook her head. “Not at his brother’s funeral. It wouldn’t be proper to discuss anything like that there.”

“You’re right, of course. How about tomorrow, then?”

“Maybe. Let me think on it awhile.”

“You think, and let’s both be praying.”

Barbara smiled at her mother’s exuberance. “Thanks for the reminder, Mom.”

“I hope Margaret holds up during the funeral,” Faith said to her husband, Noah, who stood at the kitchen counter mixing a batch of pancake batter.

“Margaret’s a strong woman. I’m sure she’ll do fine with the support of her family.” Noah turned to Faith and smiled. His dark eyes matched the thick crop of hair on his head. “When
you took the lemon sponge cake over to her the other day, did she read the copy of Isaiah 66:13 that I attached?”

Faith nodded. “She said it was a comfort and that she would save the paper so she would be reminded that the Lord says, ‘As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you.’ ”

“I always wonder how folks who don’t know the Lord make it through difficult times without His comfort,” Noah said, reaching for the bottle of fresh goat’s milk.

“I know, and that’s why we must always pray for others.” Faith removed a jug of syrup from the cupboard. “I still haven’t made it over to see Barbara, but I’m hoping to do that yet this week. I spoke with Barbara’s mamm yesterday, and she said Barbara’s been pretty tired since the boppli was born. I guess she won’t be going to the funeral today.”

“I’m sure Margaret will understand,” Noah said as he lit their propane stove and placed a griddle on one of the burners. “If Barbara plans to return to work anytime soon, she’ll need to rest and get her strength back.”

Faith grunted. “I wish she would sell that harness shop. It’s hard work, and I don’t think she’s up to doing it on her own while she tries to raise four boys.”

“Samuel still helps her, right?”

“Jah. He started running the shop by himself the last few weeks of Barbara’s pregnancy, and now he’ll have to continue running it by himself until she’s able to return to work.” Faith stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Unless. . .”

Noah quirked an eyebrow. “What are you thinking, Faith?”

“Paul Hilty came home for Dan’s funeral. He does harness work in Pennsylvania, so maybe he could stay awhile and help
out at Zook’s Harness Shop.”

Noah pursed his lips while he poured some pancake batter onto the sizzling griddle. “If he’s already got a job in Pennsylvania, he’ll probably have to get right back to it after the funeral.”

“Maybe not. He might have taken several weeks off so he could spend some time with his family.” Faith touched Noah’s arm. “Would you talk to him about it?”

His eyebrows drew together. “Why me? It was your idea.”

“I think it would be more appropriate if you spoke to him, don’t you?”

Noah opened his mouth, but their two children, Melinda and Isaiah, scurried into the room, interrupting the conversation.

“Is breakfast ready yet, Papa Noah?” eleven-year-old Melinda asked, sniffing the air. “I’m hungry as a bear.”

Noah turned and smiled at her. “What would you know of bears? You’ve never even seen a bear.”

Before Melinda could respond, four-year-old Isaiah spoke up. “Uh-huh. She’s seen one in that big book of hers.”

“You must mean the one she bought with her birthday money when we visited Bass Pro Shop in Springfield,” Faith said.

“That’s the one.” Melinda smiled, revealing two large dimples in her cheeks. “Can we go to that place again soon, Papa Noah? I sure liked it there.”

Noah patted the top of Melinda’s blond head. “We’ll see, daughter.”

Paul left the confines of his folks’ house, full of people who had
come to the meal following Dan’s funeral and graveside service. Some milled about the living room, while others stood outside on the lawn, visiting and offering their condolences.

Paul felt as out of place as a bullfrog in a chicken coop. Mom, his sisters Rebekah and Susan, and his brothers Monroe and Elam had been friendly enough. Pop was a different story. He’d been as cold as a block of ice, and Paul knew why. Pop still resented the fact that Paul had given up farming and had moved back to Pennsylvania to learn a new trade. Since Pop had raised all four of his sons to be farmers, he seemed to think they should farm for the rest of their lives—even if they had other ideas about the kind of work that would make them happy. It wasn’t fair. Shouldn’t Paul have the right to work at the trade of his choice? Why should Pop expect all of his sons to be farmers just because he had chosen to be one?

Paul hurried past the tables that had been set up on the lawn, where many of the older people sat visiting, and headed straight for the barn. He had to be by himself for a while. He needed time to think. Time to breathe.

As soon as Paul opened the barn door, the familiar aroma of sweaty horses, sweet-smelling hay, and fresh manure assaulted his senses. His ears perked up at the gentle sound of a horse’s whinny, and his eyes feasted on the place where he and his siblings used to play.