Patricia Davids - An Amish Harvest

“Would you rather lick it off the plate like a dog? I guess that will work, but it might get the bandages on your face dirty not to mention my clean sheets. If that’s the plan, I’ll have your brother wait until after supper to bathe you.”

“Go away. You’re making me crazy.”

That was better. There was more life in his voice. “I’m going. All you have to do is ask. Verna Yoder was right for a change. You are a cranky patient.”

“I haven’t spoken a word to Verna Yoder. Why would she say I’m cranky? And why are you gossiping about me? Who else is gossiping about me?”

“Samuel, you know full well if Verna Yoder is talking about you, everyone has heard what she has to say. The woman would gossip with a tree stump.”

“She would be cranky, too, if she’d been through what I’ve been through.”

“On that we can agree. She isn’t one to suffer in silence. But, we shouldn’t speak disparagingly of her. She is a member of our church and we must accept her, flaws and all, as a child of God. I’m sorry for my unkind thoughts, as I’m sure you are, too.”

“I’ll keep my thoughts to myself so you can’t share them with Verna and who knows who else.”

She laughed outright. “Smart man.”

A grunt was his only reply.

She softened her tone. “Do not fear. I will spread the word that you are a wunderbarr patient, Samuel. Easy to care for and sweet natured. Everyone will know you as kind and good-natured with never a cross word to be said about anyone.”

A twitch at the corner of his mouth could have been a smile. “Then you’ll be guilty of lying.”

“I think not. Is there anything you need before I go finish the laundry?”

“My eyesight restored.”

She heard the fear underlying his words even as he tried to make a joke out of it. “If God wills it, Samuel, it shall happen. Many people are praying for you.”

“We both know prayers aren’t always answered.”

A stab of familiar pain took her breath away. Her prayers for Walter’s recovery had gone unanswered, but in the last days of his illness, she finally understood that she had been praying for the wrong thing. “Our prayers are answered if we ask to humbly accept God’s will, Samuel.”

“I’m not sure I can do that. Not until I understand why this happened to me.”

She understood his despair and confusion. He felt betrayed. She had, too. “Why did He call my husband home so soon? I have no answer for that or for your injury. We must not question His will. We must accept that His plan is greater than we can see.”

“Since I can’t see at all, that won’t be hard.”

He was determined to look on the gloomy side of things. She would tolerate that for a while, but not for long. “God was merciful to you, Samuel. I’m surprised you don’t see that. Your clothes didn’t catch fire. You could have been burned everywhere.”

“I had a large leather apron on over my clothes and wide leather cuffs over my sleeves to keep them from getting caught in the lathe. They protected my arms and body. I don’t know that God was looking out for me.”

“How can you say that? Who prompted you to put on your apron and cuffs that morning? I am sorry this happened to you, Samuel. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like. I’m sure the pain is hard to bear, but not knowing if you will see again must be deeply frightening.”

* * *

Samuel pressed his lips tightly together. He didn’t want to talk about fear or the future. Changing the subject, he said, “I’m sorry you lost your husband.”

Rebecca was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, “Danki.”

Samuel heard the tightness in her voice. So it was still hard for her to speak about Walter. She must have loved him very much. Samuel didn’t want to feel sorry for her, but he did.

“I never thanked you for adding the cedar panels to Walter’s coffin. It was a kind touch. How did you know he liked the smell of cedarwood?”

“I once saw him admiring a cedar trinket box at our shop. He kept opening it and inhaling with a funny little smile on his face.”

“I love the smell of cedar, too. It had a special meaning for us. Did he buy the box?”

“He didn’t, but he told me he might be back for it. Later that same day, a tourist stopped in and purchased it. Walter came back the next day and I had to tell him it was gone. I made another one but he never came back to the shop. I learned later that he had taken sick. I should have brought it by the house, but I didn’t.”

Had Walter been planning to buy it for her? Samuel wanted to ask what special meaning the scent held for them, but decided against it. It was much too personal a question. He didn’t want to start liking this bossy tyrant. He didn’t want to hear about her feelings for her husband, or how she survived his loss. He just wanted to be left alone with his own misery. “I’m tired now.”

“I understand. Do you need anything before I go?”

As soon as she spoke, he realized he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her company for a while longer. Her voice was pleasant when she wasn’t ordering him around or poking fun at him. Companionship wasn’t something he’d needed before. He worked best alone. He preferred it to having to watch others who couldn’t do a task as well or as quickly as he could. People frustrated him. His brothers frustrated him. Rebecca frustrated him. He didn’t like that he wanted her around.

“I’m fine. Peace and quiet, that’s all I ask,” he snapped.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, Samuel,” she said gently. It was an unspoken rebuke for his churlish attitude. And deserved.

“I know. Call or fall on the floor to get your attention, whichever I prefer.”

She laughed. “Something along those lines.”

After she left his room, the sound of her laughter stayed in his mind. She had a pretty laugh. Not horsey or simpering. Rebecca Miller laughed like someone who enjoyed life. His grudging smile pulled at the bandages on his face and made him wince.

His grin faded. Rebecca had faced great sorrow. How did she find the strength to be happy? He shared the same Amish faith she did. Was her faith stronger than his was? Or was she a stronger person? Was it true that she didn’t question God’s plan for her life? He had a hard time believing that. How could she not? No husband, no children. Her future must look bleak at times. As did his when he found the courage to think about it.

Samuel listened for her throughout the next hour or so. He had no way of telling time. The days and nights tended to crawl by with nothing to do but feel pain. Rebecca kept humming or singing softly so he knew where she was. When he heard the washing machine running in the basement, he sat up gingerly on the side of his bed. His mother had an ancient wringer washer that his father had adapted to run off propane. Samuel knew Rebecca would be down there feeding the clothes through the wringer for a while. Standing slowly, he moved up the bed until his elbow touched the wall by his headboard.

Although he was still unsure of his balance, he discovered he wasn’t afraid of falling on his face as long as he had the wall to lean on. He made one slow circuit of the room. He remembered the chest beneath the window in time to avoid stubbing his toe on it, but knocked his shin against the leg of his desk. It was a minor discomfort compared to his previous fall. How much damage had he inflicted on his burned hands?

Rebecca had marked the bloodstains. Were they getting worse? Should he call her to check? He made his way back to bed first. He didn’t want her to know he had taken her suggestion for getting around.

He lay down with a sigh of relief just as he heard her coming up the stairs. She came quietly to his side. After several minutes of silence, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Has the bleeding stopped?”