Patricia Davids

An Amish Harvest


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      Anna smoothed her apron. “May I speak to you privately, Isaac?”

      “Of course.” He followed her into another room.

      Rebecca sighed deeply. She had been too forceful, too pushy, too sure that she knew what was best. She had allowed her experience with her husband’s illness to cloud her judgment. Samuel wasn’t Walter. Anna would see that she was sent home. It was a shame, because Anna really did need help even if she wouldn’t admit it.

      “How is he?” Luke asked. He had a wary look about him. Standing apart from the others near the front door, he looked ready to make a quick escape. She had the feeling he was as much an outsider in the home as she was.

      Rebecca smiled to put him at ease. “Samuel is healing, but these things take time.”

      Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “He’s been like a bull with a sore head. Nothing pleases him.”

      Noah hung his towel on the rod at the end of the counter. “Mamm says we must be patient with him and do everything we can for him.”

      Luke moved to take his turn at the sink. “That’s what we’ve been doing, and his mood hasn’t improved.”

      “Sometimes doing everything for a person does more harm than good.” Rebecca moved to the stove, lifted the lid off the pot and stirred the contents. Fragrant steam rose in a cloud.

      “What do you mean?” Noah asked.

      She decided the noodles needed a few more minutes and replaced the lid. “Just that if you don’t encourage your brother to try harder, he will only grow weaker.”

      Luke rinsed his hands and turned off the water. “Samuel has never been the weak one.”

      “That’s why this is so hard for him.” Rebecca glanced toward the doorway where Anna and Isaac stood. She couldn’t tell what decision had been reached, if any.

      Isaac hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “Let’s get out of the way until supper is ready. Noah, you owe me a chance to beat you at checkers.”

      The men left the kitchen. Anna began mixing the biscuit dough. “Rebecca, will you set the table? The dishes are in the cabinet on the left side of the sink.”

      “Of course.” At least she wasn’t being sent home before supper. She knew that Isaac was on her side, but how much sway did his wife’s wishes hold?

      Supper was a quiet meal. After a silent blessing, the food was passed around with a minimum of fuss. Amish meals were not a time for small talk. Isaac laid out the work they would need to do the following day. Other than a few brief questions from his sons, their attention was given to the food. When the meal was over, Isaac took a tray upstairs to Samuel. Timothy offered to do it, but his father brushed aside the offer.

      * * *

      Samuel struggled into a sitting position on the side of his bed when he heard footsteps enter his room. He was feeling more human after Timothy had helped him bathe, and his appetite had been whetted by the wonderful smells from the kitchen. “It’s about time.”

      “If you are impatient for your meal, you should come down to the table.”

      Tensing at the sound of his father’s voice, Samuel quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Father, I thought you were Timothy. He said he was bringing up my supper.”

      “I wanted to talk to you, and I thought this was a good time to do it.”

      “What did you want to talk about?” Samuel heard the sound of the tray being placed on his bedside table and the scrape of the chair legs as his father pulled up a seat beside the bed.

      “Your mother is unhappy that I brought Rebecca here.”

      “I don’t blame her. The woman is touched in the head. She actually poured water on my sheets to get me out of bed.”

      To Samuel’s chagrin, his father began chuckling. “I never would’ve thought of that. Did it work?”

      “That is hardly the point.”

      “Isn’t it? Open your mouth. I have a spoonful of chicken and noodles for you.”

      “Mother said I was to stick with broth.”

      “Doesn’t sound like much of a meal to me. Open.”

      Samuel did as his father bid. The first bite had his stomach rumbling for more. The noodles were firm, not mushy. The chicken was tender and the chunks of vegetables were done to perfection.

      “She’s a good cook, I think,” his father said, giving him several more bites.

      “Not bad, but I’m still glad she isn’t staying.” Samuel opened his mouth for another spoonful. Although he was embarrassed to be fed by his father, he was hungry enough to accept the help.

      After a few more bites, his father spoke again. “How are you feeling, sohn? Really. Don’t tell me fine. I know that isn’t true.”

      “I have a lot of pain. My eyes burn like the fire is still in them. My hands are useless. I hate being helpless.”

      “I’m sorry God has placed this burden on you. I would take your place if I could.”

      “I know that. I’m sorry my carelessness placed such a burden on you. I know you need my help in the fields.”

      “Our neighbors have been lending a hand.”

      “That’s nice to hear. My brothers can’t do it all, not without Joshua, but I reckon they’ll have to try. It was a bad time for Joshua to marry. They should have waited until the fall like most Amish people do.”

      “Your brothers are doing fine. Joshua followed his heart and I can’t fault him for that. You will be back in the fields in no time.”

      Samuel’s appetite fled. “What if I’m not? What if I’m blind forever as the doctor fears?”

      “That is a bridge you can’t cross until you reach it. You must have faith that God will provide all you need.”

      Faith. Did he still possess it?

      “Would you like some more supper?” his father asked.

      “Nee, I’m done.”

      “Very well. Your mother will be up shortly.”

      “She’s good company.” She didn’t make him do things he’d rather not.

      “She fusses over you.”

      “I can stand it. She understands that I can’t do things for myself.”

      “All right. Guten nacht.

      “Good night.” Samuel realized his father hadn’t said what he intended to do about Rebecca. “Daed, wait.”

      “What is it, Samuel?”

      “You are sending Rebecca home, aren’t you?”

       Chapter Four

      Rebecca had just finished washing the last supper dish when Isaac came downstairs. He handed the bowl and spoon to her before facing his wife. “Samuel would like you to come up now.”

      Anna turned her back on him and began wiping down the table. “Only if you think I should.”

      “Of course you should go up. There is no substitute for a mother’s love and comfort. Have you any chores that Rebecca can help you with this evening?”

      Anna turned around with her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Nothing I can’t take care of myself.”

      “Anna,” he chided gently.

      “Oh, very