The Waiting Page 16

  “How well I know. We have a two-year waiting list.” She looked up at the mother eagle, soaring in the sky. “I don’t want to go, but my grandfather has been talking about it some. He’s getting older, and Mammi is not . . .” Her voice tapered off.

  “Not quite herself?” Cal took another bite of apple and chewed. “I’ve noticed. I brought her home from town awhile back – she had forgotten to tie her horse and buggy to the hitching post – and she was determined to have me turn right on the main road when she knew the way to Stoney Creek was left.”

  “Oh,” she said flatly. “I hadn’t heard about that.” She wondered if her grandfather was aware of it and just didn’t tell her.

  His dark brows lifted. “If you need extra help with her, all you need to do is ask.”

  She smiled. “For now, we’re doing all right. She takes a little extra watching.”

  “Seems like something the aunties would take to. They love a cause. And I would love to direct their attention away from getting me married off.” He slapped his hand against his forehead. “Judas Iscariot! Tonight is another Saturday Night Supper. I completely forgot.”

  She laughed at the stricken look on his face. “How are those suppers going?”

  “Depends who you ask.” He took another bite out of the apple. “If you ask Ephraim, they are heaven on earth. Mark my words – his future bride will win his heart through his stomach.”

  “So the aunties haven’t located your perfect match yet?”

  “Not yet. But they won’t give up. They’re moving into the next district over now. Six weeks ago, they brought a widow lady who was rather . . . long in the tooth. And that’s putting it kindly. Four weeks ago, they found a gal who sneezed her way through dinner. At the end of the evening, she confessed that she was allergic to cows.”

  “Oh, that would never do for a dairy farmer.” Jorie drew a line through an imaginary list in the air.

  He grinned and rose to his feet, stretching. “Two weeks ago, it was a stern woman who felt children should be seen and not heard. Matthew happened to be home, and you know what a relentless teaser he is. He got Maggie giggling so hard that milk came out of her nose. That did not sit well with Miss Manners. She left early, in a huff.” He reached a hand down to help her up.

  Jorie laughed as she took his hand and let him pull her up. “Well, maybe tonight will be the night.”

  Cal didn’t release her hand; instead he reached for her other hand and entwined their fingers together. Jorie thought she could hear her heart beating and wondered if he could hear it too. His eyes locked with hers, watching, waiting, when suddenly a loud whoop from Ephraim burst through the tree branches. Cal dropped Jorie’s hands and took a step back as Ephraim and Maggie scrambled through the brush to join them.

  “We s-seen ’em with our own eyes!” Ephraim said. “Three eaglets!”

  Jorie was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment. She couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened next, had Ephraim not swooped in when he did.

  On the way back to Beacon Hollow, the shadows were growing long and Cal was getting anxious to get home in time for milking. Ephraim led the way through the endless woods. He was at that age when boys have more energy than they know what to do with, so he was usually one hundred yards or so ahead of them. But Maggie was wearing out. Her small legs were made for playful scamper, not for a long hike, and she dropped behind constantly, so that Cal and Jorie had to stop and wait for her to catch up. Finally, Cal swung Maggie on his back and picked up the pace.

  Ephraim was far enough ahead that they couldn’t see him. As they came around a bend, they stopped abruptly. They hadn’t seen the three men until they had nearly run right into them. One of the men had a hold on Ephraim’s jacket collar like he was hanging him on a wall peg. The men’s faces were haggard with rough growths of beard, their eyes red-rimmed. Jorie recognized one face: Jerry Gingerich. He was the one holding on to Ephraim.

  “Well, what have we here?” Jerry asked, his words thick and slurred. “Hey, Pete, Jim. I think we got us some Plain folks!” In one hand, he held a bottle filled with amber-colored liquid. He started to bring the bottle back up to his mouth, then let it fall as recognition filled his bloodshot eyes. He knew Cal. A satisfied look covered his face, as if he couldn’t believe his good luck.

  “Let us pass,” Cal said in a calm, relaxed voice, but Jorie could tell by the stillness of his features that he was dead serious.

  Another man circled around Jorie. “This here is that uppity red-haired gal. I’ve seen her in town.” A few bits of spittle from his mouth careened through the air.

  Jorie met his animosity in the way her people always did: by turning silently away from it, but her heart was thumping wildly in her chest.

  “Oh, you think you’re too good for me!” He reached up a hand to pull her prayer cap off, but Cal quickly sidestepped between Jorie and the man, causing the man to lose his balance and stagger back a step.

  “Let us pass,” Cal repeated, lowering Maggie to the ground.

  “Or else . . . what, Plain man?” Jerry said, waving his bottle in the air. He took another gulp straight out of the bottle. “What are you going to do about it, huh?”

  He dropped his hold on Ephraim and pushed Cal. Cal swayed back a little but his feet didn’t budge.

  “We warned you. We told you not to let that colored man move in, but you went ahead and ignored us.”

  “Jorie, take Ephraim and Maggie,” Cal said, “and run on back to the house.” His voice was flat, quiet, and he stood with his hands loose at his sides, his head a little bent. But the air around him pulsed and thrummed.

  “Hold it,” the third man said, talking around a thick wad of chewing tobacco that puckered his mouth. “You don’t give the orders around here.” He spewed a thick glob of tobacco juice onto Cal’s boots.

  “Let my family go,” Cal said. “It’s me you’ve got the quarrel with.” He turned his head toward Jorie. “You heard me. Go, now.”

  Jorie grabbed Ephraim’s arm, but he pulled away from her. She grabbed him again, more firmly. Leading Ephraim and Maggie by the hands, she backed away, then turned and started running the way they had come. She heard one of the men object, but Jerry said, “Let ’em go. He’s the one we want.”

  As soon as they had gone a distance, she stopped. “Ephraim, lift Maggie onto my back. I know a shortcut to Bud’s.”

  Ephraim linked his fingers together to give Maggie a leg up.

  “I’m scared,” Maggie whispered into her ear.

  “Then say a prayer, Maggie,” Jorie said in as calm a voice as she could manage. She followed a chain of animal trails through the dense woodland until she found a narrow passageway through a bramble thicket that bordered Bud’s field. She put Maggie down and grabbed her hand to run, not stopping until she reached Bud’s farmhouse. He was passing from the barn to the house and saw them waving and calling to him.

  “What’s the matter?” Bud asked, looking alarmed. “Is there a fire?”

  Jorie spilled out the story to Bud in big gulpy breaths as Maggie pulled on her dress sleeve. Bud told her to sit tight while he went in the house to get a gun.

  “No, Bud! No gun,” Jorie said. “It’s not our way.”

  “But I’m not Amish,” he said, then he turned and walked to the house.

  Maggie kept pulling on Jorie’s sleeve. Still panting, Jorie looked at Maggie. “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s Ephraim! He’s still in the woods. He didn’t come with us!”

  As Bud came out of the house with his shotgun and his hunting dog, Jorie told Maggie to go to Beacon Hollow and stay with Lizzie until they got back.

  “You go on with her, Jorie,” Bud said. “This is no place for a woman. Besides, Maggie needs you.”

  Jorie looked down at Maggie and knew that Bud was right. Maggie looked so small and scared. Jorie nodded. “Please hurry, Bud.”

  An hour later, Bud and Ephraim brought Cal, bruised and blood
y but upright and walking, to Beacon Hollow. Relief washed over Jorie, and she was surprised at the strength of her own emotions. She had feared the worst. She couldn’t bear to lose him – and with that sudden awareness came a rush of tears. Maggie ran toward her father, hugging his middle. Cal winced as her arms tightened around him.

  “I’m fine, Maggie. I really am. Just a bump or two.” He exchanged a look with Jorie and she knew he wasn’t fine.

  “Put him up in his bed,” she told Bud and Ephraim.

  “Wait,” Cal said in a voice as dry as toast. “The cows need milking.”

  “Lizzie, Maggie, and I took care of it, Cal,” Jorie said. It had helped keep them busy and their minds off of worrying about what those men were doing to Cal.

  “And the aunties?” he asked.

  “They came and left,” Jorie said. “Lizzie said you weren’t feeling well, which was the truth.”

  After Cal was settled upstairs, Jorie set about doctoring his injuries with calm efficiency. A solution of powdered golden seal and myrrh for his cuts, first boiled and steeped for twenty minutes. A lavender and almond oil infusion for his swollen eye. She took ice from the kitchen, wrapped it in a dish towel, and gently placed it on his sore ribs. “Hold it there,” she said, placing his left arm over the bag.

  When the ice touched him, his entire body went rigid, but he relaxed as the numbness set in. Within seconds, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  Jorie stayed for a moment, watching as he fell asleep. His face was so bruised and battered, it nearly broke her heart. She felt a strange tenderness toward Cal. She always had. Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed his forehead and quietly left his room.

  When she went downstairs, Bud was sitting at the kitchen table with Ephraim. Lizzie had made dinner but no one was hungry.

  “I think he needs a doctor,” Jorie said. “He might have some broken ribs.”

  “I’ll go home and call for a doctor,” Bud said. “I’ll let Matthew know too, but first I’m calling the police to report this.”

  “No!” Jorie said, more loudly than she meant to sound. “No, Bud. I’m sorry, but that’s not our way.”

  Bud slammed a fist down on the table, upset and angry. “That’s the very reason you folks get harmed. It never stops. Fellows like Jerry Gingerich know you won’t fight back. You won’t press charges. You Amish don’t do a dadblasted thing about it!”

  “Vengeance belongs only to the Lord,” Jorie said in a shaky voice. She spoke those words and believed them to be true, but in her heart, deep down, she was struggling to accept them. She wanted those men to pay for what they did to Cal. It was a terrible thing that people felt they could do anything to the Amish and get away with it.

  Bud seemed to realize her inner turmoil. His craggy face softened around the edges. He eased out of the chair and tousled Ephraim’s hair. “Here’s the hero, today. He stayed right by Cal until I arrived. By the time I got there, those yellow-bellied cowards were gone.”

  Ephraim didn’t look like he felt like a hero. Jorie thought he still looked frightened. She wondered what he had witnessed of the beating Cal took.

  “Don’t worry, Ephraim,” Maggie said, patting him on his arm. “Dad just has a bump.”

  When Cal woke, Jorie was sitting in a rocker by the window. “You shouldn’t be here,” were his first words. “It’ll get people talking. It isn’t proper.”

  “Well, good thing I’ve got an understanding minister.” She stood and came to his bed. “I went home for the night and just came back a short while ago.” She smiled. “Marge is working on a curative for you.”

  He laughed, a soft laugh that turned into a cough. He tried to sit up and moaned, then leaned back down.

  “You’ve got broken ribs. And a concussion. The doctor said you’re going to need to take things slow for a while.” She pulled up the chair beside him. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Ephraim’s all right, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. He’s downstairs. He’s quiet. But then, he’s always quiet.”

  Cal opened his eyes. “It was the strangest thing. I remember seeing him come back, alone. I knew he was watching the men beat on me. Then, suddenly, there was a scream – one prolonged scream, and then another. I thought maybe it was you, but then I got hit and blacked out.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Jorie said. “While I was running to get Bud, Ephraim slipped away and doubled back.”

  “Maybe it was Ephraim, trying to distract them.” He closed his eyes again. “Next thing I knew, Ephraim and Bud were standing over me.”

  He was quiet for so long that she thought he had fallen asleep. She went to his bedside to pull the blanket, slipping off the side of the bed, back over him. She gazed fondly at him. He was young, only thirty, and despite his battered face, he was a handsome man with his thick mane of dark wavy hair and his sparkling blue eyes. Though she was brought up believing that no man was better than another, Cal was an anchor in their community. How could anyone dare to lay a hand on him? The thought of what happened in the Deep Woods sickened her.

  “Aw, Jorie. Quit looking at me like I’m such a pitiful sight.”

  She laughed. “Right now, you are a pitiful sight, Caleb Zook.” Then she sobered. “I’m the one who brought this trouble on you.”

  “What’s done is done. We’re all in this together.” He fixed his eyes on her. “But while you’re feeling beholden, there is something you can do for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  He took a deep breath. “I’ve been lying here, thinking and praying. I feel, more than ever, that it’s the right decision.” He bit the corner of his lip. “I want you to marry me.”

  She stopped smoothing the blankets and stilled for a long moment. Then she straightened up. “Yes.” This time the answer came from her heart.

  “I’m going to keep asking you till you say yes.”

  “All the more reason I should say yes.”

  “Jorie, we’re a good team, you and I. Maggie adores you, so does Ephraim. You belong here at Beacon Hollow.”

  “Cal, are you listening? I said yes.”

  He was just about to start talking again when he realized what she said and snapped his mouth shut. His left eye, the one that wasn’t swollen nearly shut, widened in surprise. “You mean it? You’re not just saying that because you’re feeling sorry for me?” His cheeks stained red.

  “I mean it.” She had no doubts. It just felt right, like lemonade and picnics by the lake on a warm summer day. There was another long silence where their eyes locked and they both knew they had an agreement. Silent, but there. She smiled and reached out to stroke the hair off of his forehead. “We can talk it all over when you’re feeling better.”

  A tenderness came over Cal’s face. He reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist, where the blue veins pulsed beneath her pale skin. “If I could sit up, and if I didn’t look like I’ve been sent through a washer wringer, I would kiss you properly.”

  She felt breathless, the way she got when she was climbing the ramp to the hayloft. “Matthew is here,” she said, suddenly shy. “He wants to see you.”

  “Not like this. I’ll come downstairs.”

  She nodded and walked to the door. As she turned the knob, she heard him ask, almost in a whisper, “Jorie, do you really mean it?”

  She kept her hand on the doorknob, though she did turn to look at him. “Preacher Caleb,” she said in a lightly teasing tone. “My no is no, and my yes is yes.”

  11

  As Ephraim saw Cal wince with every step as he made his way to the kitchen table, he felt his throat tighten. How could those men have hurt his brother like that? Cal was such a good and kind man. He didn’t deserve that treatment. It disturbed Ephraim deeply to have seen those stupid, drunk men pummel Cal, over and over. Just thinking about it made his eyes start to prickle with tears, so he went out on the stoop and called for Mag
gie to come in to see her dad. He held the door open as Maggie raced inside, then practically bumped into her when she skidded to a stop, shocked by the sight of her father. She had seen him last night, but he looked even worse this morning, swollen and bruised. Cal spread out his arm so that Maggie would stand close and lean against him.

  Jorie brought Cal a cup of hot coffee.

  “How do you feel?” Matthew asked, handing Cal the milk and sugar pitchers for his coffee.

  Cal stirred his coffee, then took a sip, carefully avoiding the cut on his lip. “Like someone dropped an anvil on my chest.”

  “Looks like someone dropped it on your face,” Matthew said, peering at Cal’s cuts and bruises.

  Cal glanced over at Ephraim. “You should have stayed with Jorie, Ephraim. I’m sorry you had to see that. But I’m grateful for your concern.”

  Jorie sat down next to Ephraim. “What’s troubling you?”

  Ephraim looked at Cal. “You n-never th-threw a p-punch. You just s-stood there. You just s-stood there and l-let them hit you.” He had never seen men so riled up, not even his brother Ben, who had a temper on him.

  “If I had, Ephraim, I wouldn’t have been any different from those men,” Cal said. “I would become just like them. The rage and hate that lives in them would become a part of me. Vengeance belongs only to God.”

  Maybe, but Ephraim still wanted to hurt them back. Especially that Jerry Gingerich. He didn’t recognize the other two men, but he hated them too.

  “I sort of remember the sound of a scream,” Cal started. “But then I blacked out. What was that all about?”

  All of the eyes at the table turned to Ephraim. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open, but no sound came out. A knock on the door diverted everyone’s attention. Ephraim jumped up and opened it to Flora Miller, bearing a hot casserole. Flora gasped when she saw Cal’s battered appearance.

  After Flora left, Jorie said she should be getting home. “The news is out. Every woman in our church district will be bringing you a casserole, so I think I will be getting home to help Atlee with the horses.”