The Waiting Page 8

  On Friday, he and Maggie left for school like always, but he stopped at the road. “You g-go ahead, I’m g-gonna head through the D-Deep Woods.”

  “I’ll come too.”

  “No!”

  Hurt, Maggie spun around and marched up the street toward the schoolhouse. Ephraim bent down to tie his shoe. As soon as she disappeared around the bend, he ran down the street in the opposite direction to catch the bus.

  At the part of the road where the bus usually stopped, Ephraim waited anxiously, hidden behind a tree. He was worried a buggy would pass by and spot him playing hookey. Suddenly, behind him came a familiar tuneless humming.

  He whirled around to face Maggie. “Aw, Maggie. C-can’t I d-do anything alone?”

  She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “If you don’t let me come with you, I . . . will . . . tell.”

  He scowled at her but explained the plan for the day and told her that if she went along with it, she might have to lie. She cocked her head and thought about it for a split second. “Dad says that repentance is a daily thing. So I’ll just plan on doing some extra repentance-ing today.”

  As soon as she finished the sentence, they heard the bus chugging up the hill and waved their arms so the driver would stop. Less than an hour later, they stood at the Lancaster bus station, wondering which way to go. It wasn’t hard to determine that West Lampeter Fairgrounds was the answer to that question – circus posters covered every surface. Before even reaching the fairgrounds they caught sight of the unmistakable peaked top of a canvas circus tent, thickly striped in white and red.

  “There it is,” Maggie said, eyes wide.

  They found the ticket booth at the circus entrance. Ephraim handed the ticket taker his two prized tickets. “W-which w-way t-to the menagerie?” he asked, trying not to stare at how small the man was. This man was smaller than anyone in Stoney Ridge.

  The dwarf pointed a finger down the path along the large tent. “Animal dens are that way. It’s feeding time now, if you hurry.”

  Ephraim and Maggie wandered around the tents, led by the smell of animals – a smell that wasn’t much different from a barnyard.

  “Oh, Ephraim, look!” Maggie called out. “See the horses? They’re Percherons, aren’t they? Just like the Kings’!” A makeshift corral held a half-dozen draft horses, their heads buried in mounds of hay.

  “K-Kings’ horses are b-better,” Ephraim said loyally.

  Spotting the animal dens, he grabbed Maggie’s hand and pulled. In a long row, shaded by the tent, were cages on wheels, brilliantly painted scarlet with gold trim. Their sides were propped open to reveal an assortment of unusual animals. Three chimps, with large patches of missing hair, were huddled in a corner of a dirty den. Next den over, an old black bear with paws as big as dinner plates squatted in front of his food dish. Then there was an angry-looking eagle, tied to a post. A tired and toothless lion lay on his back in another den. At the very end was the cougar den. This was the reason Ephraim had come. He walked up to the cougar cage, as close as he dared, and quietly watched. The cougar licked its paws, tail swinging, before noticing Ephraim. Its lithe, tawny-colored body jumped off of a ledge and went up to the bars, as if sizing Ephraim up. The cougar sniffed the air, then settled back on its haunches. Ephraim had never seen anything so beautiful. The cougar and Ephraim exchanged a long look. He took a step closer.

  “Not so close, Ephraim,” Maggie whispered.

  “It’s ok-kay. She knows,” Ephraim said, eyes still glued to the cougar’s.

  “Knows what?” Maggie asked, hiding behind him.

  “She knows I th-think she should b-be free.”

  A sudden clanking of metal surprised the cougar and she turned toward the sound, curling back her lips to bare her teeth. It was a circus worker, not much older than Matthew, throwing lunch to the cougar. He had an electric prod that he kept in front of him and used it to poke the big cat in the flank as she ate. The cougar lunged toward him, but he shocked her with the stick, then laughed when she fell back in pain.

  “S-stop!” Ephraim shouted with such force that his spit sprayed through the air.

  “Beat it, kid,” the worker yelled. “Or I’ll try it out on you.” He pretended to jab the prod toward Ephraim.

  “Come on,” Maggie said, pulling Ephraim away. “Let’s go find the human cannonball.” They had seen large banners for the human cannonball, plastered on sides of the big tents. “And I want to see the world’s fattest lady. And I want cotton candy too.”

  Ephraim scowled at the worker but went off with Maggie. They walked into the main tent and saw trapeze artists and a tightrope walker, but the human cannonball, they were told, was at the dentist with a toothache. When they found the fattest lady in the world, they decided that Fannie Byler, a woman in their church, was even fatter. Ephraim bought Maggie cotton candy on a paper cone. Too soon, he knew they needed to catch the bus to get home by the time school let out.

  Before they left the circus, Ephraim wanted to walk past the cougar den one more time. The cougar was waiting as if she had been expecting him. She stuck her nose through the bars, drawing in a scent of him. Her golden eyes were bright and she stared right at him, and he had the strangest notion that she was begging him to set her free. Ephraim put a hand up as if he was going to touch her, but the trainer shooed him off.

  On the bus ride back, Maggie fell asleep. A bump in the road woke her up and she looked at Ephraim. “This was the best day of my life.” Then her eyes drifted shut again and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  Today had been worth it.

  It was purely accidental that Jorie was walking on the road when the city bus pulled up and Maggie and Ephraim hopped off. She was heading home and thought she might stop by Beacon Hollow to see if they were sick, but the timing of the bus was just a coincidence. They didn’t notice her following behind them. She knew they were up to something, and she was pretty sure Cal wouldn’t be happy about it. But they were safe and they were home. She thought she even heard Maggie humming. The sound of it tugged at her heartstrings like a well-loved hymn. Whatever they had been doing, she knew they needed time for things like that, where they could just be two happy children.

  She crossed the road and turned left at Stoney Creek’s drive.

  On a rainy morning in late October, Matthew surprised Cal by showing up for breakfast. The windows were open and an acrid smell of burnt oatmeal filled the room.

  “Did you burn the coffee too?” he asked, when Cal opened the door for him.

  “No, but I can’t guarantee that it’s drinkable,” Cal said. “How’d you get here?”

  “Bus. I have a couple of days off and thought you might need some help getting that third cutting of hay in.”

  Cal looked a little confused. “I hadn’t given much thought to that third cutting yet.”

  “Hadn’t thought about it? This time last year, you had that third cutting stacked and in the hayloft.”

  Matthew was worried about his brother. Cal was always the strong one. He kept the family together after their folks died, stepping into their father’s footsteps as if he was born for it. But Cal seemed as if he were walking around in a fog, preoccupied and distant. As Matthew looked around, he could see only the bare minimum was getting accomplished at Beacon Hollow. The cows were getting milked, of that he had no doubt. And the milk was getting picked up regularly by the milk truck every other day, just like always. But not much else of the normal farm routine seemed to be happening. Even the fields – usually plowed under with manure as soon as the harvest was in so that they would spend the winter gaining nourishment – looked about as well-plowed as if a cat had scratched around on them. He looked outside at the steady rain. Well, the hay wasn’t going to get cut today.

  Cal went to the stairs. “Ephraim! Maggie! Time to wake up!”

  “They’re not here. I met them on the road. They were on their way to Jorie’s.”

  “What?” Cal said, dropping a spoonful of
paste colored oatmeal into a bowl. “Why would they be going there at such an early hour?”

  “Something about hunting for a beaver’s den. Ephraim said he had just read that beavers have extra-large lungs and that’s why they can go underwater for seventeen minutes. Said he wants to time them.” Matthew stirred the oatmeal, took a bite and frowned, then pushed it away. “They went early to get breakfast at Jorie’s.” Quietly he added, “I shoulda gone too.”

  “There’s fresh eggs,” Cal said, pointing to the basket, still on the counter. “You can help yourself.”

  Matthew looked for a clean bowl in the cupboard, couldn’t find one, so he rinsed one that sat piled up in the sink. He cracked three eggs, tossed the shells in the sink, and started whipping up the yolks. He cooked the scrambled eggs in the only fry pan he could find that wasn’t dirty, then looked for a clean plate, and finally just gave up. He sat down at the table and ate the eggs directly out of the fry pan. “I saw Sylvia in town. She said to tell you she’ll be stopping by around noon. Said she’s bringing Esther to play with Maggie.”

  “Oh no,” Cal said. “Oh no, no, no.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Matthew, you need to run over to Jorie’s and fetch Maggie. Ask Jorie to come too. Tell her . . . it’s an emergency.” He grabbed Matthew’s fry pan and started filling the sink with hot water.

  Matthew pushed himself back from the table. “What’s the emergency?”

  “Sylvia wants Maggie to live with her.”

  Matthew’s eyes went wide. “You gonna let her?”

  “No, I am not. But we have to show her that we’re doing just fine and that Maggie isn’t running all over the county like a wild Indian.” He grabbed the liquid soap bottle and squirted its entire contents into the sink, then started scrubbing dishes like a madman.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jorie and Maggie and Ephraim arrived, trailing behind Matthew. When Cal caught sight of Maggie, he could practically hear the squawking Sylvia would do if she caught sight of her. Barefoot, Maggie was wearing Ephraim’s shirt and a pair of old pants, held up by twine. Her hair was tucked loose in a bandanna, flowing down her back in tangles and snarls.

  Cal ran outside. “Jorie! Maggie needs to be – ”

  “To be turned back into a girl,” Jorie said, laughing. “Don’t worry, Cal. Matthew explained the situation.”

  “No, I do not!” Maggie said, scowling, an indignant look on her face.

  “Yes, you do,” Cal answered, in a tone of voice which meant she had to obey.

  “This is all because of Sylvia . . . and Ephraim says she’s not really even his aunt!” Maggie shouted.

  “Maggie, calm down.” Cal gave Ephraim “the look.” “That’s true, she’s not Ephraim’s aunt.”

  “Mine either,” Matthew chimed in.

  Cal rolled his eyes.

  “You can’t deny,” Matthew said, “that somehow Sylvia Swartzentruber manages to exude disapproval at fifty yards.”

  At first, Cal wanted to put a stopper in Matthew, but as the meaning of his words sunk in, he let out a laugh. It surprised him, that laugh. A small laugh. In that messy kitchen, with dishes piled up in the sink and a floor so dirty that shoes could stick to it, with Matthew and Ephraim and Maggie looking at him as if he was coming unhinged.

  A small, tiny laugh, but it was there. His first laugh since Mary Ann had passed.

  Jorie seemed to understand; her eyes were smiling as Cal tried again to persuade Maggie to change into girl clothes.

  “But I am a girl!” Maggie said, stamping her feet.

  “Of course you’re a girl,” Jorie said. “We just need to have you looking like one.” She put a hand on Maggie’s head and gently guided her upstairs to get a bath.

  Downstairs, Cal, Matthew, and Ephraim swept and cleaned and hid the dirty laundry down in the basement. Jorie came back down and tried unsuccessfully to swallow a grin at the sight of Cal with an apron around his waist. “Maggie says she doesn’t have any dresses.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” Cal said, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “She just doesn’t have any clean dresses. That’s why she’s helped herself to Ephraim’s hand-me-downs.”

  “What happened to the girls who were cleaning for you?” she asked.

  “They’re working as waitresses for that new restaurant in town.” He swept an overlooked pile of dirt into a dustpan. “I haven’t had time to find someone else.” Truth be told, he was overjoyed when the girls told him about their job offer. They made him nervous in his own house, and he knew Sylvia grilled them for details – which only added to Sylvia’s ability to leak a constant stream of complaints about him, like a rowboat with a hole in it.

  Jorie glanced at the kitchen wall clock. Ten thirty. “Where do you think I could find some of Maggie’s dresses?”

  Cal pointed to the basement stairs. “Down there, in the basement. In a pile. The machine broke down and I haven’t had a chance to fix it.”

  At eleven, Jorie brought Maggie to see Cal. She was wearing a lavender dress with a starched white apron over it, black stockings, and polished shoes. Her shiny clean hair was tightly pinned down under a stiff prayer cap.

  “Maggie,” Cal said, a smile lighting his face, “you look like – ”

  “A dumb girl.” She wiggled. “These dadburn pins keep poking at me. I wish I was a boy like Ephraim.”

  Cal crouched down. “I’m sure glad you’re my little girl.”

  “If I were a boy, then I wouldn’t have to play with Esther,” Maggie said. “She likes to play house and make me the baby just so she can boss me around.”

  “S-she tries to b-boss me t-too, Maggie,” Ephraim said. “She’d b-boss you whether you’re a b-boy or a g-girl. She’s just p-plain b-bossy.”

  Jorie looked around the kitchen. “You men worked a wonder!”

  Matthew leaned over to whisper loudly in her ear, “Just don’t look in the oven. You’ll see a week’s worth of dirty pans.”

  “Maggie, stop wiggling,” Cal said.

  “I can’t help it!” she said with a scowl. “These clothes are still wet.”

  “They’ll dry soon.” Jorie squeezed Maggie’s shoulders. “We’ll go find that beaver’s dam another day.” Something at the window caught her eye. “Sylvia’s here. I think I’ll just slip out the back.” She went out the side door as Ephraim darted upstairs.

  Mary Ann’s garden! Cal hurried out behind Jorie. He saw the shock register on her face when she saw the garden, overgrown with weeds as scraggly as the pumpkin vines. Mary Ann had loved this little plot of soil. She had treated it like a sanctuary. When the house got crowded, he could always find her in the garden, fussing over her plants.

  “It’s been a little hard to find time to weed,” he said. That wasn’t entirely true. Everything just seemed to take him longer these days, as if his head was stuffed with cotton and he wasn’t thinking clearly.

  Jorie spun around on her heels. “Lizzie Glick! She’d be just the right girl to keep house for you. I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as Lizzie.”

  “What makes you think she’d quit a good job at the hardware store to keep house for me?”

  She looked at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She pointed toward the window. “Because of Matthew.”

  Cal turned toward the house. Through the window, they could see Matthew attempting to juggle three eggs. Maggie was clapping her hands in delight until Matthew dropped an egg on the floor. Cal turned back to face Jorie, puzzled. “What about Matthew?”

  She gave him a patronizing smile. “Why are men so smart in some things and – ”

  He held up a hand, grinning. “No need to finish that thought.”

  “Talk to Lizzie.”

  “Jorie, thank you.” His eyes held hers just a beat too long, and then he looked away, feeling guilty, as if he had done something wrong.

  Jorie didn’t seem to notice his discomfit. She pointed to his waist. “Don’t forget to take off that apron.”

 
The kitchen door banged shut and he knew he needed to go back inside to face Sylvia. He yanked off the apron and tossed it behind a bush, then returned to the kitchen with a sigh.

  Sylvia wasn’t fooled by Maggie’s freshly scrubbed look. “I saw Maggie running along the road this morning in Ephraim’s old trousers. And her hair was tied back, looking like a tail on a runaway horse.”

  Cal scratched his head. “Well, you see, she likes to help outside and those dresses and pins just . . .” He stopped himself. There was no point defending it. The truth was that he let her dress the way she wanted.

  Within five minutes, Sylvia found the dishes in the oven and the mountains of laundry in the basement. “What happened to those girls I hired?”

  “They were offered jobs in town at the new restaurant. They offered to stay, but I told them to go on, take the jobs. They’d make more money than I could pay them and they’d get to be around young folks.”

  “You’re too soft on people, Caleb. Always have been.” Sylvia sighed, then waved her hand. “I’ll find you new helpers.”

  “Well . . .”

  Esther smiled a Cheshire cat smile as her mother added, “And Maggie will be coming home with me today.”

  Maggie’s eyes went wide.

  “Maggie is a strong-willed child, Caleb. It’s not your fault you can’t manage her. She needs a firm hand.”

  “Sylvia, I know you mean well – ” Caleb started. He knew from the set of Sylvia’s chin, lifted high and aimed dead straight at him, that he was in for a fight. He had enough experience with Sylvia to know it was wise to tread carefully when she was in this frame of mind.

  “I’m only doing what’s best for my niece. It’s what my sister would have wanted. No little girl is going to grow up properly in an all-male household. She’s already wearing pants. Next thing you know she’s going to cut her hair short and carry a slingshot to shoot down a duck for dinner.” Sylvia looked Ephraim over, head to toe. “Perhaps Ephraim should come with me too.” Her crisp words knifed through the air.