The Waiting Read online

  “Don’t,” he said, his voice breaking.

  She brushed the tears off of his cheeks. “I’ve never asked anything of you, Cal, but I am asking you to consider this. After I am gone, it’s normal to grieve. I hope you’ll miss me sorely.” She paused and took a deep breath. “But after a time I want you to ask our Jorie to be your wife.”

  Mary Ann could read the shock of her words on Cal’s face by the moon that was casting its long pale light through the window.

  He turned away. “You can’t pick out another woman and tell me to love her,” he said after a long moment. “You can’t be thinking I’ll marry her after you’re gone. You can’t will someone into taking your place.”

  She touched his cheek, turning his face back to hers. “I’ve given this thought and prayer, Cal. Jorie would be just the kind of mother our Maggie and Ephraim need. And the right wife for you too.”

  “Jorie King is my brother’s girl.”

  “Not anymore.” She felt him take in a hard breath. “It might take awhile to think of her in a different way, but I hope you won’t let that stop you, Cal. Not Ben’s memory, not meddling relatives.” She sighed. “Things have changed, for all of us. I’m blessed, in a way, having this time. Knowing I’m dying. Your folks never had that chance.” She laid her head back down against his chest, her cheek nestling into the hollow above his heart.

  In a voice roughed by pain, Cal said, “I just don’t know how I’m going to live through your dying.”

  A cold spell hit the next week, complete with gusting wind and frost on the roofs of the farmhouse and outbuildings. It took them all by surprise after such a long hot summer.

  “M-Mary Ann, are you . . . g-going to g-get b-better?” Ephraim asked her one morning when he brought a pail of steaming milk into the kitchen from the barn.

  Mary Ann turned slowly, careful to keep her face calm, for even with the gusting wind she’d caught the note of fear in Ephraim’s voice and it touched her heart. He was standing in front of the wall pegs that held Cal’s hat and large coat and looked so small by comparison. His bony wrists, chapped red from the cold, stuck out from the ends of his coat sleeves. She came up to him, her gaze moving gently over his face, a face that was so dear to her. “I don’t think I am, Ephraim,” she said.

  The words flew from Ephraim’s mouth, fierce and whole. “Please don’t die.”

  Mary Ann dug her fingers into his shoulders as she pulled him against her.

  It was hard, so hard sometimes to accept God’s will.

  The weather warmed up by week’s end. One evening, Mary Ann had just enough strength to ask Cal to carry her outside to watch the day end. He bundled her up in quilts and sat her in the porch swing so she could watch Maggie and Ephraim play softball. Cal sat next to her, holding her hand. Her heart was suddenly too full for words as she let her gaze roam lovingly over Beacon Hollow: the corn shocks built like tepees, her vegetable garden that had been started and tended by Cal’s mother, the neat shed that held their winter wood supply, the lofty white barn. Flat, carefully plowed fields with rich, loamy soil. And a creek that ran almost the year round to give water to their cows and sheep and horses that liked to graze under the willow tree’s shade. Cal kept the farm in immaculate condition, just like his father had. Beacon Hollow, it was part of them; this place was their history. This farm – it was a good home to raise a family.

  They watched the sun slip under the horizon, slowly and silently. She wondered if this was what dying would feel like. Slipping away slowly and silently. She didn’t fear death, for she would be in the loving arms of her Father in heaven. But it was the thought of the loving arms of those she was leaving behind that broke her heart, the thought of all those joyful moments they shared that would be lost.

  She knew she didn’t have much longer. She had grown so weak, so tired. Her body was covered with deep, eggplant purple bruises. Dr. Lachman had told her such bruising would be a sign that her time was near. He said that most likely, hemorrhaging would occur in her brain. He wanted her to come to the hospital, but she and Cal refused to consider it.

  “It’s not our way,” Cal explained. “Our people pass at home, surrounded by loved ones.”

  Cal and Maggie made hot chocolate and brought it out on the porch to watch the full and creamy moon rise in the evening sky.

  “What will it be like in heaven?” Maggie asked Mary Ann as she handed her a warm mug.

  Mary Ann wrapped her arms around her daughter. Maggie had hardly left her side in the last few days, only leaving to go to school, and then she rushed home as if she feared the worst. Mary Ann knew she had to answer this question well to help her daughter find peace. She didn’t want to leave Maggie with bitter feelings about God, as if he had played a mean trick on them by taking her too soon. The way Mary Ann felt growing up without a mother. It was through knowing Cal that she came to understand God didn’t play tricks; his ways were good and wise.

  “Maggie, how do your hands feel right now, holding on to that warm mug after playing in the cold?”

  “Good.”

  “Really good?”

  She nodded.

  “But after a while, that good feeling fades away.”

  She nodded again.

  “In heaven, that good feeling won’t go away. That warm, good feeling is like the presence of God, and it will last for all eternity.”

  Cal’s gaze settled gently, lovingly, on his wife.

  That night, Mary Ann died in her sleep.

  4

  On the kitchen counter at Beacon Hollow were pies and casseroles, sliced cheese and ham, bowls of black and green olives and sweet pickles, slices of bread slathered in peanut butter. Sylvia examined the bounty with a critical eye and moved the mayonnaise and mustard closer to the sliced ham. Marge King tried to shoo her out of the kitchen to take her place with the family near Mary Ann’s coffin, but Sylvia wouldn’t budge. She was determined to oversee the food. The last time Marge King helped in the kitchen for a funeral, she absentmindedly added marshmallows to the chicken salad. Sylvia was going to make sure things were set out right. It was the least she could do for her only sister.

  Besides, Sylvia knew she had to keep moving. She had to stay busy. If there was one thing she knew, keeping busy helped ease a heartache.

  Jorie could not eat much of anything today, but Sylvia kept thrusting plates at people and encouraging them to “Eat, eat!” Finally, Jorie accepted one just to appease her. Watching Sylvia, knowing how her heart must be suffering with her sister’s body laid out in the other room, Jorie was filled with compassion for her. Sylvia was a devout woman, trying to do the right thing, whose greatest need was to be needed.

  Jorie had driven her grandparents over for Mary Ann’s viewing and stayed close by Marge’s side. Sometimes, her grandmother could be a little . . . unpredictable. Downright inappropriate, Atlee would say, though with amused respect for his wife. Jorie felt almost relieved to focus on Marge; it helped her set aside the heartache of loss that shadowed her lately.

  When their turn came to view Mary Ann’s body, Marge reached out and stroked Mary Ann’s cold cheek, as tenderly as if she were a sleeping child. “If only she could have just hung on a little longer. I was working on a remedy that could’ve healed her for sure.”

  Jorie bent over and kissed Mary Ann on the forehead. “Goodbye, dear friend,” she said, before turning quickly away to stop from tearing up.

  Her eyes caught Cal’s across the room, and he gave her a brief nod. She didn’t know how he was able to cope lately. Two funerals in scarcely two weeks’ time. Such grief, such grief. She knew she felt speechless under its weight.

  As the line continued, she followed her grandparents to shake the family’s hands. Cal spoke soft words of gratitude, but his eyes were two flat, smooth stones. Even Matthew, who usually couldn’t wipe the laughter from his eyes, answered everyone who spoke to him in a polite, subdued voice. Maggie was silent, not even humming. Ephraim was nowhere to be seen.
r />   When the twentieth buggy turned onto Beacon Hollow’s lane, Ephraim felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of the house, away from the neighbors who kept patting his head and telling him Mary Ann was in a better place. He knew that couldn’t be true because, for Mary Ann, there was no better place than Beacon Hollow.

  He decided to go across the road to Stoney Creek and see how big the yearling Percherons had grown. He was crossing the road when he noticed a car stopped at Marge King’s roadside fruit stand. He recognized the driver: that dark-skinned man who had run out of gasoline back in August.

  “Hello there! Remember me?” the man called out to Ephraim.

  Ephraim walked up to his car and leaned down to peer inside. A woman was next to the man, about the same age. She was just as dark as the man but her hair wasn’t kinky – it was long and straight – and her stomach was as round as a volleyball.

  The man smiled at Ephraim. “I don’t think I caught your name, last time we met.”

  “Ephraim Z-Zook.”

  “I’m Dr. Robinson, Ephraim. I’m the new veterinarian in town. This is my wife, Mrs. Robinson.” He turned to his wife. “He’s the boy who helped me when I ran out of gas a month or so ago.”

  So this was the man, Ephraim realized, who Ron Harding was talking about at the hardware store. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why people would listen to Ron Harding and Jerry Gingerich. He’d rather have a man like Dr. Robinson live in Stoney Ridge than the likes of those two. He had asked Cal why folks wouldn’t let a colored man live here, especially a vet when they needed one so desperately. “Folks can be mighty ignorant,” was Cal’s explanation.

  Ephraim had told Cal that sounded like another thing to add to his list of questions without answers. Lately, Ephraim’s mind, his whole being, was questions.

  Seeing the frustrated look on Ephraim’s face, Cal spoke up again. “Give people a chance to get to know him. Then he’ll change their minds. You just watch and see.”

  Dr. Robinson broke in on Ephraim’s musings. “We just came from a house down the road that was up for sale, but when we got there, the lady said she had changed her mind. Wasn’t for sale, after all.”

  Ephraim felt a twisting in his stomach.

  “I noticed that roadside stand and thought we’d stop to get some tomatoes. I don’t see anyone working, though.”

  “That’s M-Marge’s s-stand. She’s over at B-Beacon Hollow. At the f-funeral.”

  “Who died?” Dr. Robinson asked.

  Ephraim looked down at the ground. “My s-sister-in-law.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, Ephraim.”

  He didn’t want to have to answer any questions about Mary Ann. He pointed to the stand. “M-Marge usually l-leaves an h-honor j-jar.”

  “No kidding?” Mrs. Robinson asked, leaning forward in her seat to look at Ephraim. “An honor jar? What happens if people forget their honor and walk off with the money?”

  Ephraim shrugged. “I g-guess they n-need it m-more than we d-do.”

  Dr. Robinson looked at Ephraim for a long while. “Have you been able to get to that circus yet?”

  Ephraim shook his head.

  “I think it’s only in town another month before moving on to Harrisburg.”

  Ephraim nodded. “I’ll try to g-go soon.”

  Dr. Robinson stuck out his hand to shake Ephraim’s. “Glad to have seen you again, Ephraim.”

  “H-hope you find a place s-soon.”

  “I hope so too,” Mrs. Robinson said. “We’re staying in a dumpy little motel in Stoney Ridge and eating our meals at the diner. We’d better find a place before this baby comes or I will go stir-crazy.” She twisted her fingers around her head like she was winding a clock.

  Ephraim didn’t expect that; he felt a smile tug at his lips.

  “Lisa, that’s the farm I was telling you about.” Dr. Robinson pointed to Beacon Hollow. “That’s your home, Ephraim. Isn’t that right?”

  Ephraim turned and looked up at the farmhouse. A buttery glow from kerosene lanterns lit the windows. Buggies were lined up, shoulder to shoulder. The sun was setting low in the west, casting a long reddened light onto the carefully tended fields.

  He turned back to Dr. Robinson. “Me and my f-family, that’s where we l-live.”

  The weather turned unseasonably warm again after Mary Ann’s passing. Sylvia dropped by Beacon Hollow every day to help. She organized meals to be delivered for the next month and hired two teenaged girls to clean the farmhouse, do laundry, and cook.

  “Caleb, I realize now is not the time, but – ” Sylvia started before leaving to return home one afternoon.

  “Then perhaps it’s a conversation that could wait until some other day,” Cal interrupted wearily.

  “There has been quite a bit of talk about what’s going on in that schoolhouse,” Sylvia continued, as if Cal had asked her to elaborate. “Actually, about what’s not going on in that schoolhouse. Do you realize that they spend more time outdoors than in?”

  “It’s been beastly hot this fall, Sylvia. Soon enough, they’ll be stuck indoors. Until then, Jorie feels spending time out in nature actually helps promote learning.”

  “Promote fiddlesticks!”

  Cal put a hand up to stop her. “Let Jorie do the teaching, Sylvia. You have enough to do, taking care of your own farm.” What he wanted to say was that Sylvia didn’t need to stop by every day.

  “Speaking of my farm, Caleb,” she said, “I’ve been thinking that Maggie should come and stay with us for a while.”

  Cal was just about to take a sip of coffee when he froze. “Take my Maggie?”

  Sylvia sat down next to him. “It would give you time to get used to things, get a new routine established. You know how close she and Esther are. It would be good for her to be around females.”

  Cal kept his eyes lowered. “She’s my daughter, Sylvia. My only child. It would be like taking the light from the sun. I just couldn’t bear it.”

  “Think about what she needs, Caleb. And what Mary Ann would want for her.”

  After Sylvia finally went on her way, a sadness welled up inside of Cal. He wanted Mary Ann alive, to take care of their daughter and to deal with Sylvia’s meddling. He wanted his brother Ben alive to help run Beacon Hollow. He pressed his lips together against his weakness. His wife and his brother knew a better life now. The eternal life, warm and safe with God and the glory of heaven. It was selfish of him to miss them. If only for the sake of Ephraim and Maggie, he had to find the courage to surrender to God’s will. Mary Ann and Ben were no longer with them – they’d gone to God.

  The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh, but it was wrong of him to dwell so much on the taking. God had given him so much too. Happy years with Mary Ann and a beloved daughter in Maggie. Two other brothers to share the work of Beacon Hollow.

  Death was certainly a hurtful thing, he couldn’t deny that, but only to those left behind.

  As Jorie watched Maggie working at her desk, she wondered what was going through her head lately. How did a little girl make sense of death? Maggie often had a knowing look on her face, the hint of a smile that made Jorie think she knew more than she was letting on. Jorie had always gotten the impression that Maggie was smart beyond her years. Her gaze turned to Ephraim, sitting in the far back row. She worried about him, sweet Ephraim. His stutter had grown worse since Mary Ann’s passing, and that was when he did talk, which was seldom. It seemed as if he was trying to be invisible, but Jorie refused to let him. She hoped that by having him do well in the role of the angel Gabriel in the Christmas play, it might give him some confidence he lacked.

  She glanced up on the wall to see the growing list devoted to an inventory of first sightings. It was an idea she came up with to try and encourage the scholars to become more observant of nature. As her eyes scanned the list, she realized that most of the first sightings were Ephraim’s. Red fox. Cooper’s hawk. Northern bobwhite. Great egret. Ray added a cottontail, which made the scholar
s laugh at its ordinariness, but then he looked so offended that Jorie added it to the list.

  On the opposite side of the blackboard was another growing list, titled “Very Important Questions.” Whenever the scholars had a question they couldn’t answer, they wrote it up on the board for the class to discuss. “How does the moon stay up in the sky?” “When bees head to the hive, how long until it rains?” “What do you get if you cross an elephant with a rhinoceros?” She was pleased with the questions and the discussions they prompted; she wanted to ignite the children’s curiosity about this big, beautiful world God gave them. If there was one thing she wanted to leave them with, it was . . . wonder.

  Ephraim thought briefly of telling Cal about the circus tickets, but quickly dismissed the notion because he was pretty sure Cal wouldn’t let him go. He just wanted to see the wild animals, up close, but Cal would be worried he’d be tempted to see the entertainment. His brother Ben had gone once and came home with jaw-dropping tales of circus ladies who wore practically nothing. No, he thought it would be best not to bother Cal with this right now. Cal had enough on his mind. He thought of what Ben often advised when faced with such a knotty problem: “Better just go now and apologize later.”

  Ephraim would need to skip school to go to the circus. He had given this plan a lot of thought and settled on Friday. Jorie took the class out on all-day expeditions on Friday, and Ephraim figured that, if absolutely necessary, he could use the excuse that he was late to school. Once, Levi Yoder was so late that the class left without him. There wasn’t church this Sunday, either, which reduced the chance of Cal crossing paths with Jorie, and hopefully, she might even forget that he was absent. Jorie could be forgetful like that, especially if she got excited about something the scholars found on a Friday expedition. He might just get away with it.