Courting caleb, p.10
Courting Caleb, page 10
Mercy stood just inside the door. There was a stricken look on her face, and the curves of her cheeks had taken on a reddish hue.
He wanted to say something to her because he could tell that she was upset. Perhaps she was ashamed of Abigail’s behavior. “Mercy . . . we . . . I . . .”
“Of course, we and I. . . . You’re courting, aren’t you? What is the surprise?”
Her sharp tone woke the piglet, and its frantic squeals once more filled the air. Abigail picked up the pig and Phillip saw her frown at her sister. “Mercy, it was only a kiss.”
“And you in your dressing gown with your hair down!”
Phillip interrupted as gently as he could above the squeals. “I woke Abigail with this homeless piglet and she . . . we . . .”
“I said there is no surprise, Phillip.”
“Gut morning to you both.” She turned slowly and shut the door behind her.
Phillip avoided Abigail’s eyes and, for some strange reason, felt as sad as the piglet himself.
* * *
Mercy blinked back stinging tears as she plowed through the snow, unsure of where she was headed. Somehow, the prospect of Phillip courting with Abigail had never seemed completely real until she’d seen them kissing.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she ran full speed into Caleb, who steadied her briefly.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, hastily rubbing at her cheeks, then jerking away from him.
“Hmmm . . . okay. Do you think Abigail is up already? I was going to pay her a visit.”
Mercy seemed to rally and gave him a lopsided smile. “Uh . . . nee. Sound asleep. I just came from there. There was nothing to see.”
“All right,” he said. “Then I have to stop by the Stolfus haus. I suppose I’ll do that now.”
Mercy didn’t want to take any chances that Caleb might geh back to Abigail’s while Phillip was still there. In some perverse way, she wanted Phillip to be happy, even if it meant her own unhappiness.
“I’ll walk with you awhile, if I may?” she said in a bright tone.
“Surely. Can I, uh, help you through the snow?” He offered her a strong arm and she took it with tentative fingers.
“So, you are a handyman? I’ve heard it through the community grapevine of course.”
“Jah, my fater wanted me to be a farmer . . . but it just didn’t take.”
Mercy sighed. “We can’t please everyone, and that’s a hard lesson learned for some folks.”
“But you’ve learned it, eh?”
She frowned, thinking that she didn’t please Phillip but decided that was only a selfish thought. Derr Herr wanted His kinner to love each other as well as themselves. “Jah,” she answered finally. “I’ve learned it.”
She became aware of the sounds of young voices in the air and saw that there was some fierce sledding going on. She was glad to see Joshua headed down the hill on a runner sled. She decided that the honey cornbread she carried in her basket for Abigail would instead make a nice midmorning snack for Joshua.
Mercy glanced up at Caleb and spoke politely. “You’ll have to excuse me. I see my sohn and have a treat for him.”
Caleb tipped his hat and smiled. “Thank you for allowing me to help you. And, I must say, you’re nothing like Phillip says you are. Have a gut day.”
Mercy watched Caleb walk off, and for the second time that morning felt as though she’d been struck a personal blow. “First the kiss and now this?” she muttered aloud. What must Phillip think of me? Probably it’s all true....
* * *
Caleb mounted the steps of the huge cabin and struck the iron knocker against the wood. The great door was quickly answered, and a young, fresh-faced Amisch maedel invited him inside.
“Ach, I’m sure glad ye’ve kumme. How did you know about Herr Stolfus?”
Caleb swung the door closed behind him and looked at her. “What do I know about Herr Stolfus?”
“Why, that he’s stuck!”
“Stuck?” Images ran rampant through Caleb’s head. Was the mon stuck in the couch, outside, beneath a water buffalo....
“Under the sink, he is. And a mite angry. . . .”
Caleb swept off his hat and handed it to her. “Of course, he’s angry, but at least he’s not pregnant.”
“Wh—at?”
“Never mind. Can you take me to the sink—Miss uh—?”
“Rebecca. Rebecca Bly. If ye’ll kumme this way?”
She led him into a cavernous living room and through a swinging door to a large kitchen. Caleb briefly noted that the woodwork was incredible, but then all of his focus was on the pair of legs protruding from the bottom of a sink. Even in Pennsylvania Dutch, the angry voice that went with the pair of legs uttered more original swear words than Caleb had ever heard. He glanced at Rebecca, who looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“Geh on into the next room,” Caleb said kindly. “I’ll call if I need something.”
He waited until the girl left, then went to the sink and dropped to his knees. Up close, the loud swearing made Caleb’s ears pop, and he wondered why John Stolfus was on the list that Birchbark had given him—all Herr Stolfus needed was a quick pull.
“Herr Stolfus? I’m going to get you out!”
The swearing stopped abruptly but the voice still raged. “Get me out? Ye’ll never do it in a thousand years.”
Caleb laughed silently. “I’ve delivered a baby and now I’m delivering you from a sink.”
“What! What’d you say? I ain’t no babe that you must pull out! I still got strength left in me bones.”
Caleb felt his mirth fade away. There was something poignant in the other man’s words; a cry that he was still worthwhile, and Caleb suddenly understood his temper.
“All right. All right. I am going to get you out, but I need you to help. I need you.”
“Nah . . . nobody needs me now.”
Caleb eased his head and shoulders as far in as he could so that he could see the auld man’s face. “You’re John, right? I’m Caleb.”
“Huh! Another mail-order groom. Your bruder married my daughter. She took over running the mill for me recently.”
“I’ve heard,” Caleb muttered, not liking the man’s pallor. “Are you hurt in any way, sir?”
“Probably busted a rib crawlin’ under here. I should have gotten Abner or Matthew to help. Stubborn auld fool—that’s what I am.”
“Derr Herr says to call no man a fool, not even yourself,” Caleb muttered. “You know what? I’m going to need a piece of wood to put under your back so I can get you out a bit easier.”
“Well, the workshop is beyond the living room. Geh help yourself.”
Caleb got out and followed John’s directions. He entered the clean workshop, and it only took him a minute to find an appropriately sized piece of wood to be a backboard. He was leaving the workshop when an incredible wooden dollhouse caught his eye. The piece must have involved hours of work—on the gingerbread decoration alone. But he quickly moved on and headed back into the kitchen.
John was quiet now and Caleb looked up as the kitchen door opened. His aulder bruder Matthew stood there, staring at John’s legs for a moment. “Caleb? What’s wrong here?”
“John’s all right. Maybe a cracked rib. . . . Can you help me get him out? I figure we can use this wood as a backboard of sorts.”
“All right. John,” Matthew called. “I know what strength you’ve got in those legs. You help push your way through while we get this wood into position. We’re just going to have you roll on your side for a second.”
Somehow, through the combined efforts of all three men, two hours later, John sat propped up in his own bed while Aenti Fern, the healer, tended to him. She gave him a drink of some powerful tea, and when his eyes began to close, she shooed Caleb and Matthew away. Just then, Tabitha came to the door, seeking her fater.
“She’ll sit with him all nacht. I know her determination,” Matthew commented as they made their way down the broad, carved staircase. “Say, why not kumme to my haus for some venison steaks, little bruder?”
“Sounds good to me,” Caleb agreed. “In any case, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“Something wrong?”
Caleb shook his head with a rueful smile. “Nee . . . ach, maybe something’s right. . . .”
“You want to talk about women, don’t you?”
“Guess so,” Caleb answered.
Matthew laughed. “I’m not sure I’ll be much help.”
“Well, then, I’ll take what I can get, big bruder. . . .”
Chapter Fifteen
Abigail stared down at the piglet she held in her arms while feeding him another bottle. She hadn’t really been able to concentrate on her pottery, and it wasn’t only because of the antics of the baby pig.
Her mind flashed back to that morning when she’d purposefully kissed Phillip and had truly felt . . . not much of anything. He must have found her quite brazen, because he’d disentangled himself from her the minute Mercy had left the cabin.
“Uh, Abigail,” he’d mumbled. “Mercy saw . . .”
“And that’s fine, I think.” Abigail had felt her temper snap because she was beginning to realize that only when she courted Caleb did she feel such heated intensity.
She’d soon shown Phillip out then dithered the day away, taking care of the piglet. She would have to find the creature a home, and she knew where she needed to geh. She laid the satiated pig back in his wicker basket and wrapped him snug in the quilt.
She decided she would make the most of the fading daylight and head up to Birchbark’s cabin. She hoped that Caleb might be there but realized that he could easily be off on a repair somewhere. Still, she added another quilt and two bottles to the wicker basket, then lifted it gently from the floor. She slipped outside into the cold and lashed the basket to a runner sled. Then she hitched up Amber and they set off with the sled in tow.
She had gone only a few hundred feet when a cloaked figure stepped out of the woods and stood in the path of the horse, holding a lantern high.
Amber startled and it took all of Abigail’s strength to keep her from rearing backward.
“Who’s there?” she called in irritation. “You could have been killed!”
The person threw their hood back and Abigail saw Heather’s face in the shadowed light. For a moment, she felt the old tension rise in her throat but then she rallied. “What is it, Heather?” she asked, attempting to keep her tone level.
“Ach, if you had killed me, just think of the stories that would geh round. . . .”
For a moment, Abigail froze. Then the piglet began to squeal.
“If you would step aside!” Abigail commanded.
“I will. But only after I give you a warning or perhaps, a consideration. Maybe the reason you sent for those mail-order grooms is because the men of Blackberry Falls have long memories, and you know no one here would have you. What will happen if one or both of your mail-order men happen to learn the truth?”
Abigail briskly slapped the reins, ignoring the other girl, and Amber moved forward, forcing Heather back into the snowy forest....
* * *
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck as he left his bruder’s cabin. As Matthew had predicted, Tabitha would not leave her fater’s side, so Caleb had the rare chance to have supper alone with his aulder bruder.
Caleb had waited inside the beautiful cabin while his bruder cooked the steaks, baked potatoes, and heated up ajar of yellow wax beans, sweet with summer’s taste.
“So, you want to talk about women?” Matthew asked with a raised dark eyebrow, and Caleb agreed.
“What do you want to know?”
Caleb sighed. “I want to know about one woman, Abigail.”
“She is Tabitha’s best friend, but she is always reserved around me. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much.”
Caleb chewed his potato thoughtfully as he considered her lack of reservation in kissing him. He ended up shifting uncomfortably on his chair and forced himself to focus on the food instead.
“Well, how is the courting going? I’ve heard that Phillip is at the pottery a fair amount.”
Caleb shrugged. “I suppose it has to be a fair courting.”
“There’s fair, and there’s fair. Don’t you worry that she’s kissing him too?”
“What do you mean—‘too’? Who says I’m kissing her?”
Matthew grinned at him. “I recognize the dazed look.”
Caleb felt his cheeks burn as he cleared his throat. “Well, maybe she’s kissing me. . . .”
Matthew laughed out loud. “Then that’s the best of all. I love it when Tabitha—uh—kisses me.”
They had gone on to a mutual discussion of the fine art of kissing, until Caleb reluctantly got up to go.
Now, he was halfway up to Birchbark’s cabin when a fierce drop in temperature warned him that a blizzard was coming up fast. But he wasn’t prepared for the rage of the storm as it came roaring down Blackberry Falls, filling the air with icy shards and a whiteout of snow. Caleb struggled to maintain his direction and prayed that Abigail was somewhere safe....
* * *
Abigail listened to the fury of the storm and took another sip of the hot cocoa that Birchbark had made her. She moved quietly on the bentwood rocker, trying to calm her nerves and praying that Caleb was safe at the Stolfus haus.
“Stop frettin’, Abigail. The buwe’s fine.” Birchbark tapped the tiny piglet snuggled over his broad shoulder, then grunted his approval. “Out like a light.” Birchbark laid the sleeping pig in the wicker basket near the hearth, then pulled on a ratty sweater. “It sure is blowin’,” he muttered as he tossed another log on the fire. Abigail watched him sit briefly to pull on an extra pair of socks that she was sure he’d gotten from the Englisch—they had bright green frogs with coral pink tongues on them, and she tried hard not to stare.
A heavy thud sounded against the door and Birchbark crossed the room in two strides, opening it and allowing the whirl of the storm to whip round the room. It was Caleb. Abigail got to her feet and reached his side as Birchbark hauled him in, then slammed the door.
Caleb’s breaths were muffled by his black scarf but still sounded harsh in the relative quiet of the room.
“His eyelids are bleeding,” Abigail exclaimed.
“Ice shards. They’re driven into his clothes, too.” Birchbark wasted no time peeling Caleb’s icy outdoor clothes off, then dumped him without ceremony onto the big feather bed. “He’ll live, Fred.”
Abigail heard Birchbark speak to the anxious dog and thought that she could have used a few reassuring words herself.
“All right, Abigail. Jest keep them quilts piled on him, and he’ll warm up. I’ve got ta geh ta work!”
“To work?” Abigail stared at Birchbark, thinking he was truly narrisch.
“Awww, let him geh!” Caleb groaned from the bed. “He’ll be fine.”
Birchbark gave a hearty laugh while Abigail stared at him. He stepped into huge boots which hid the green frogs from view, then added a long coat made of furs. Finally he hefted his large pack across his shoulders and nodded at Abigail. “I’ll keep the piggy as me own. Call him Nutflake . . . ha!” He pulled on his fur mittens and stalked to the door, opening it to give a glimpse of the mad, driving snow. Then he stepped into the fray and slammed the door behind him.
“I’ve always heard that Birchbark was narrisch, but I never believed it until now,” Abigail said as she began tugging Caleb’s boots off. “He’s going to freeze to death.”
“Nee, he won’t, and jah, he’s crazy. But he’ll be back—trust me.” He folded his arms behind his head and his blue eyes flashed up at her as she layered another quilt on top of him. “You do realize that we’re most likely trapped alone here until the snow and ice let up?”
She couldn’t stop the flush of color that warmed her cheeks. “To tell the truth, I’ve already thought of that.”
He smiled up at her—a warm, sensuous smile that seemed to strike sparks off her heart and mind. “Would you like to share your thoughts?” he asked.
“Jah.” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “I think we should tell each other stories. . . .”
* * *
Mercy muttered to herself as she dried dishes in her warm little cabin. She wasn’t worried overmuch about Joshua and Tad in the storm since they were sheltered at the schoolhaus with Ann Bly, their experienced teacher. They were practicing for the annual Christmas program, which the whole community always enjoyed. Ann would never let them out in the storm even if she had to burn the desks as firewood.
Still, she prayed for her sohn in her mutterings and finally allowed herself to sit down in the small rocking chair near the hearth. She rocked for a few moments, realizing that she felt lonely, which made no sense. She was often alone when Joshua was out—but something about the whistling of the storm outside made her feel forlorn and lost. She knew the source of such thoughts . . . it was the idea that Phillip had spoken to Caleb and whoever else about her, behind her back.... I’ve had enough of people talking about me, more than enough since before Joshua’s birth and in all the years after. . . . People in Blackberry Falls have long memories.... Still, not all were unkind and maybe the lack of acceptance I feel is more about me than it is about them....
It was on the heels of this revelatory thought that a muffled pounding sounded at the door. Mercy resisted the urge to take the gun from the doily drawer in her grossmuder ’s worktable. Instead she straightened her spine and went to unlatch the door. Phillip fell heavily against her, covered in snow and ice but dripping blood from his forehead.
It took all her strength to half drag him inside. “What happened?” she demanded as she grabbed a doily from the nearby drawer and watched it turn crimson too fast.
“Hit by a tree limb, I think,” Phillip groaned.
She didn’t reply but helped him to the auld couch. “Lie down,” she ordered.
