A Mother's Gift Page 6

  Jude stared after the twins, aghast. He sat down again, fearing he might topple over if he didn’t have the chair beneath him. Stevie’s whimpers had become a wail, and as the little boy ran through the front room after his sisters, Jude didn’t have the fortitude to go after him. “What just happened here?” he asked, feeling dazed. “I—I’ve sometimes wondered if they were sneaking into the guest room, but . . .”

  “Time to shift the bed to the other wall,” Leah suggested, shaking her head. “I’m sorry for those horrible things they said to you, Jude. They have no idea how their words have stabbed your heart. They talk tough, but where would they go if they decided to leave?”

  Jude slumped, flummoxed. “I don’t know, but I suspect they’ll find a place that’ll make us pull out our hair trying to find them. Boys tend to fess up and take their punishment, but girls are sneaky—and my girls are going to claw and bite like cornered wild animals now.”

  He gazed at the full bowls of food and the empty chairs at the table, clutching Leah’s sturdy hand. “Will you be all right today? If there was any way I could skip the livestock sale—”

  “I don’t see that happening, what with you being the auctioneer, Jude,” Leah said gently. “I’m guessing Alice and Adeline are upstairs changing into their English clothes, and they’ll be out the door and down the lane not five minutes after you leave. That’ll give me a chance to spend time with Stevie today, to patch up the damage his sisters have done.”

  Jude’s heart swelled. As he gazed at his wife, who was plain even by Plain standards, he was grateful for her steadfast love and common sense—even if the girls’ apparently habitual escapes upset him. “When Mamm lived here, she told me the girls behaved just fine for her,” he said with a sigh. “I’m starting to think she didn’t want to admit that she had so little control over them.”

  Leah shrugged. “At least they cooked you a nice breakfast—”

  “Trying to soften me up—and then they dropped their bomb,” Jude put in tersely. “I’ve lost my appetite, but I can’t sell livestock all day on an empty stomach.”

  He spooned a large mound of hash browns onto his plate and handed the bowl to Leah. As he spread the fragrant fried potatoes and topped them with a layer of onions and green peppers, his thoughts raced in circles. “I should’ve shifted the bed to the outside wall when you first came here, Leah. Should’ve challenged the twins about sneaking into the adjoining room the first time I suspected they were eavesdropping, but I—” Jude gazed at Leah, his throat tight with emotion. “I’m sorry about all of this, sweetheart. I had no idea the girls were treating you so badly.”

  Leah’s shrug was lopsided as she spooned cheese sauce over the top of her haystack. “I should’ve spoken up sooner. I just didn’t know how.”

  Jude nodded. “I know the feeling. I don’t know how any of this blew up in our faces—and I don’t know how we’re going to patch our family back together now that Adeline and Alice have ripped such a hole in it.”

  Leah smiled. She already looked weary, and she still had to get through a tough day with the kids. “We’ll have to trust that God knows the answers, and have the patience to recognize them—to grab on to them—when He brings us the help we need.”

  How could she speak with such simple confidence, after the way his girls had scorned her? Jude grasped her hand and kissed it. “You’re right, Leah. Let’s hope God provides some gut ideas sooner rather than later,” he said. “Denki for your faith, and for sticking with me. I love you.”

  * * *

  As Leah stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes, she watched Jude drive his rig down the lane toward the road. The sounds of footsteps above her head suggested that the girls were walking back and forth on the creaky wooden floor of their bedroom. Were they packing bags to leave? Would they make good on their threat to go elsewhere because they were angry with Jude for not being their birth father?

  They have no idea what they’d be getting themselves into, Lord, she prayed as she stacked rinsed plates in the dish drainer. Alice and Adeline might believe the English world will give them a fresh start—the independence they crave—but they’ve led a sheltered life. Temptation and trouble lurk around every corner for Amish girls seeking to escape the rules that preserve their security.

  The sudden silence above her made Leah look toward the mudroom. Through the window, she spotted Alice and Adeline clambering down the big maple tree to the ground, as though they’d done it dozens of times. Despite the frosty morning, they were dressed only in tight jeans, sneakers, and lightweight hooded sweatshirts. They ran toward the barn without a backward glance, their long reddish-brown hair billowing loose behind them in the breeze.

  At least they don’t have suitcases. They don’t plan to be gone long.

  For a moment, Leah wanted to follow them—wanted to warn them or plead with them to reconsider their attitude toward their dat. They might have heard Jude’s words through the wall, but they obviously hadn’t caught on to the fact that their mother had been the deceptive one while their dat had followed the honorable course and raised another man’s kids as his own.

  Leah remained at the sink with her hands in the soapy dishwater, however. Alice and Adeline needed time to let off some steam, and the last person they would listen to was the stepmother who’d intruded upon their family life—the woman their dat had entrusted with a truth they weren’t ready to hear yet felt entitled to know. A few minutes later, the girls’ open buggy was heading toward the road—and their mare, Minnie, was racing down the lane as though something had spooked her.

  We’ve all been spooked, Leah realized. This morning’s episode is all about fear.

  She pulled the stopper from the drain and dried her hands on a towel. As Leah passed through the front room, she saw the wooden trucks and trains Stevie had been playing with before breakfast, but the boy was nowhere in sight. Climbing the stairs, Leah prayed for words that would comfort the poor child who’d been so upset by his sisters’ cruel words. The door to the twins’ room was closed, but Leah grabbed the knob, hoping a peek inside would give her a clue about where they’d gone.

  The door didn’t budge.

  Leah frowned. To her knowledge, none of the house’s doors locked—and the knob turned in her hand. She smiled wryly. The girls had placed a heavy piece of furniture—probably their dresser—against the door so she wouldn’t snoop in their absence. They figured she wouldn’t have the gumption to shove the door open, and then replace the dresser and shimmy down the tree outside their window, so they wouldn’t know she’d entered their bedroom.

  Puh! You girls have nothing on me when it comes to climbing trees or trellises—or even ropes, Leah thought as she continued down the hall. As a girl, she’d always had the job of climbing into the apple and walnut trees to pick the highest fruit, or to shake the branches so the walnuts fell to the ground for her dat to pick up. She’d prided herself on being able to climb a rope hand-over-hand, too, after watching the neighbor boys do it.

  Leah set aside her memories of those simple childhood pleasures, however, as she approached the room across the hall. The door was ajar, and as she heard Stevie crying, her heart went out to him.

  “Mama . . . Mamaaa,” he bleated like a lost lamb. He repeated the name again and again, as though his plaintive chant would bring his mother back to comfort him.

  Leah stepped into the room and hesitated. Stevie was curled into a small ball on his twin bed, rocking himself as he lay facing the wall. “Stevie, I’m sorry you’re so sad,” she said softly. “I’m sorry your sisters were being so mean at the table.”

  The boy stiffened. “Mama. I want my mamm,” he said in a quavering voice.

  Leah sighed. She’d lived here for three months, yet Jude’s son had shown no sign of accepting her as his new parent. Most likely the twins had filled his imagination with scary lies about her.

  But you’re the adult; you have to keep trying, she reminded herself as she approached his bedside. She
couldn’t imagine the pain and loneliness this little boy had been dealing with since his mother had died.

  Leah stopped beside the bed, but quelled her urge to stroke Stevie’s mussed hair, which would probably frighten him more. “You know how we’ve talked about the fat mama goats getting ready to have babies?” she asked in an excited murmur. “Two of the kids were born last night! I was hoping you’d come with me to see them.”

  Stevie lay absolutely still for several seconds. Rather than begging for his mother again, he stuck his thumb in his mouth—but at least he seemed to be listening.

  “I know how you love animals, Stevie, and I was thinking these new kids could be yours, if you’ll take care of them,” Leah offered. “If you spend time around them starting today, when they’re newborns, they’ll get used to you—and they’ll be really happy to see you every time you go to the barn.”

  A tiny smile flickered across his tear-splotched face.

  “They’ll have their mamm to feed them her milk for a while,” Leah continued softly, “but you could be their human—you could give them water now and feed them after they’re weaned. And when the other kids are born over the next few weeks, they’ll want to be yours, too.”

  Stevie’s body relaxed. “There’s two babies?” he asked in a voice hoarse from crying.

  Leah closed her eyes, relieved that he was talking to her. “Jah, and they’re the cutest little goats you ever saw!” she replied, daring to step closer to the bed. “They’re cream-colored, with floppy brown ears and heads, and cream stripes down their noses.”

  “Like the mama goat, jah? Like Gertie.” Stevie turned to face her, his eyes alight with interest.

  “Jah, they look just like Gertie.” Leah paused, hoping she wasn’t rushing the boy in her eagerness to take him to the barn. “And you know what? You resemble your mama, too, Stevie. If you look in the mirror and see her there in your face, maybe you won’t miss her so much.”

  Stevie’s brow furrowed as he considered this idea. “But I’m a boy and Mama was a girl.”

  Leah shrugged, deciding not to mention that the twins also bore a close resemblance to their mother. No reason to remind Stevie that his sisters had upset him with their cruel words and then left him behind. “You have brown hair like hers, and your nose and eyes and skin are a lot like hers, too. If she’d been a little boy, she’d have looked just like you.”

  Stevie studied her for a long moment. “How do you know about my mama?”

  Leah’s heart stilled. For the first time, Jude’s little boy was holding a real conversation with her instead of going through the motions of dressing, eating, and other daily activities with responses that required little thought. “I used to see her at church, and at weddings and such,” she replied carefully, because Frieda Plank’s family had attended church in Cedar Creek—until Frieda had caught sight of Jude and began attending church in Morning Star instead. “And I’ve known your dat since I was a girl growing up in Cedar Creek. I saw him at auctions when he was just starting out as an auctioneer, when my dat and I took livestock to sale barns—”

  “You went to sales? Like a boy?” Stevie demanded.

  Was he going to judge her, or was he merely curious? Leah smiled at him full-on. She saw no point in pretending to be any different from what adults in the area had always known about her. “My dat didn’t have any sons—I was his only child—so I was his helper with the animals at home, and when we sold them, too,” she explained. “He was glad to have me along, because sometimes the goats and ducks and chickens went into the trailer—or out onto the sale barn floor—better for me than they did for Dat.”

  “Oh. So that’s why you like animals so much.” Stevie let out a single laugh. “Did you get poop on your shoes? Alice and Adeline hate poop, so they don’t never wanna go into the barn with me and Dat. They pay me a quarter a week to clean out Minnie’s stall,” he added proudly.

  Leah wasn’t surprised to hear this, although she thought Alice and Adeline could be more generous. “If you have animals, you have poop,” she replied with a shrug. “And sometimes you step in it, so you clean off your boots and go on, jah? You know how it is.”

  Stevie nodded, brightening. “When you have people, you have poop, too—but not on the floor!”

  Leah’s heart shimmered. Their subject matter wasn’t the most inspiring, but she didn’t care. Stevie was sitting up, smiling as he dangled his feet over the edge of the bed. His hair stuck up on one side and his rumpled blue shirt bunched out between his suspenders, yet the feeling of loneliness that usually hung around him like a cloud had lifted a bit. “Are we going out to see the baby goats, or would you like some breakfast first?” she asked. “You’re probably pretty hungry.”

  “Goats first,” he replied as his feet hit the floor.

  Leah decided against smoothing Stevie’s hair or trying to tuck in his shirt: he had accepted her for who she was, so she didn’t fuss over him. They went downstairs and into the mudroom to put on their barn boots, and as Stevie skipped across the yard toward the barn, Leah sighed in relief. At least one conversation had gone well today.

  When she caught up to the boy, he was standing outside the goat pen, gazing in awe at the pair of little goats that were suckling their mother. He glanced at Leah, delight dancing in his blue eyes, placing his finger on his lips to signal her silence. Leah nodded, mimicking his action. She was pleased that he’d known better than to enter the pen or to make a lot of noise, which would’ve startled the kids and perhaps inspired the mother goat to charge at him as she protected her newborns.

  After several minutes, Leah walked toward the other end of the barn to muck out the large pen where the goats without kids had spent the night. When she pushed the big barn door aside on its track, the goats headed out into the morning sunshine to graze in the pasture. Leah filled the galvanized trough and tossed out a few bales of hay to supplement the sparse winter grass. When she returned to the pen, she stopped.

  Stevie had grabbed his shovel with the shorter handle, and he was clearing the pen of its manure. Although he often helped Jude with the livestock chores in the evening, the boy hadn’t shown any inclination to work with Leah—he had always remained on the fringe of her peripheral vision as she’d worked, watching the animals but preferring to avoid her attention or conversation. Some folks had hinted that Stevie was mentally and emotionally slow, but Leah sensed he was just shy and mourning his mother.

  “Denki for your help, Stevie,” she said as she picked up her shovel and began clearing the opposite end of the goat pen. “Many hands make light work.”

  Stevie’s lips curved. “Matches make the lights work, too,” he quipped.

  Leah gaped. The boy had a quick sense of humor!

  They finished mucking out the pen in companionable silence, because Leah wasn’t one to make chitchat—and she didn’t want to push her luck now that Stevie was feeling so much happier. Together they fed the ducks and chickens, and then Leah loaded the large pull cart with alfalfa pellets and a bag of calf feed supplement.

  “How come you gotta give the calves extra feed?” Stevie asked as he walked beside her. “Aren’t they still gettin’ milk from their mamms?”

  Leah considered his question. Nothing made her smile like the serene sight of the calves nursing from their mothers in the pasture she and the boy were entering. “I feed the babies extra vitamins so they’ll get enough nutrition now that we’re starting to wean them,” she explained. “And they won’t go through as much stress when we separate them from their mamms, so they’ll graze on grass like the adult cows. I’m giving the mama cows some supplements, too, because the grass isn’t as thick now that we’re coming out of winter.”

  Stevie considered this. “Is that why Dat says we gotta seed the pastures again real soon?”

  “Jah. The calves we’re raising to sell need a gut diet of grass and hay so they’ll grow big.”

  As they approached the simple calf enclosure Jude had constructed—a fe
nce with boards at a level that allowed the calves inside but not the adult cows—Leah was pleased to see that Stevie’s eyes were shining with excitement.

  “Lookit!” he said eagerly. “Their ears are all perked up coz they know we’re comin’ with fresh feed. So how come you got a red-colored bull and some of the cows are black and the others are black with white faces and legs? Deacon Saul’s cows are all black.”

  Gripping the wagon handle, Leah wondered how much information about reproduction and genetics a five-year-old boy needed. She decided to answer the questions he’d asked without adding a lot of details.

  “Deacon Saul raises Black Angus—and so does Bishop Vernon in Cedar Creek—because they like that breed of cattle for producing beef. I think they also like the way those cattle look in a pasture,” she added with a chuckle. “My dat began breeding red bulls, which are Herefords, with Black Angus cows because he liked the crossbred calves they make. He believed that crossbred heifers become better mamms, and that crossbred cattle are gentler and easier to handle—and he thought their meat tasted better, too. So my herd is a mixture of a couple of Black Angus mama cows, Patsy and Erma, and the crossbred mama, Maisie, that’s black with a spotted white face like the calves are.”

  After a moment, Stevie smiled. “It’s easier to tell your cows apart because they don’t all look alike, huh?” he observed. “There’s Maisie, with her two spotted calves, watchin’ us. Erma and Patsy are over on the other side of the fence.”

  When Maisie mooed as though responding to Stevie, Leah laughed. “We have to be careful what we say,” she teased, “because the cows know when we’re gossiping about them.”

  Stevie held her gaze before his serious expression brightened with a smile. “Nuh-uh! They don’t speak English. They speak in cow talk,” he insisted.

  “Maybe so, but food is a language we all understand,” Leah pointed out. She grasped the handle on the gate, her pulse thrumming with the pleasure of bringing Stevie out of his shell and into her world. “You know how this works,” she said softly. “We’ll step inside nice and slow, and close the gate behind us. Then you can help me scoop the alfalfa pellets and supplement into the feed trough so the calves will get used to being around you.”