Chapter 19
Dear Phoebe,
You left your father’s letter here. I hope you don’t mind that I read it.
I don’t know anything about Lyme disease, but if your mom is on medicine, she should be getting better soon.
I understand why you had to leave, and I’m not surprised you rushed back to take care of your family. I would have done the same thing.
I miss you so much, Phoebe. I’ll pray for your mother and your family every day. If you need me, all you have to do is ask. I’ll be there as fast as I can.
Jalon
March 8
Dear Jalon,
I don’t mind that you read my letter. My mother is still weak, and she’s had bouts of nausea and vomiting that are worrisome.
One of the ladies in our church dropped by some special herbs that are supposed to help her stomach.
Hopefully they’ll work. Until she’s better, I need to be here for my family.
Malachi carries your yo-yo everywhere with him. He misses you. So do I. I don’t want to take you away from the farm. We’ll be all right. Don’t worry about us.
Phoebe
March 10
Dear Phoebe,
Don’t worry about taking me away from the farm. Adam and Leanna can handle things while I’m gone. Karen’s been coming over most evenings to drop off dessert, although I suspect she’s doing it more for Adam’s benefit than mine and Leanna’s.
Phoebe, I miss you and Malachi so much. I want to see you. I need to see you. The minute I can come visit, tell me. I’ll drop everything. There’s an empty space in my heart right now, and it won’t be filled until we’re back together. I know that sounds corny, but it’s how I feel.
I love you, Phoebe. I want to be able to tell you that in person. I should have told you long before now, because it’s how I felt even before you left your aunt’s. I love you, and I always will.
Jalon
March 26
Dear Jalon,
My mother is doing a bit better, but I don’t think it would be a good time for you to visit right now.
Phoebe
March 28
Dear Phoebe,
It was so long since your last letter, I almost went to visit you, but I don’t want to cause you any more stress. I want to help you, Phoebe. It’s hard for me to stay here when I could be there supporting you while you go through this.
We purchased a few chickens last week. Adam helped me build a chicken coop—he’s a pretty good carpenter, considering he doesn’t have much experience.
If I can’t visit you, can I call? I want to hear your voice. Letters aren’t enough. I love you, Phoebe, even though we’re apart right now. Nothing will change how I feel about you.
Jalon
April 7
Dear Phoebe,
I thought I would hear from you by now. Is everything okay?
Love,
Jalon
April 11
Dear Jalon,
I can’t call because I don’t have access to a phone. My mother is doing about the same. The rest of us are fine here. Please don’t worry.
Phoebe
April 14
Dear Phoebe,
Your letters are short and too far between, which makes me think something else is going on. Please let me come see you. I won’t stay long. I learned some new yo-yo tricks to show Malachi. I’ve been practicing while you both have been away. Don’t shut me out, Phoebe. I love you.
Jalon
April 30
Dear Phoebe,
It’s been over two weeks since your last letter. Please write to me as soon as you can. I miss you. I love you.
Jalon
May 11
Dear Phoebe,
You won’t let me call or visit. You’ve stopped writing me.
Is it over between us?
Jalon
May 24
Phoebe,
I got the message. You won’t be hearing from me anymore.
Jalon
P hoebe read the letter through blurred eyes.
She’d hurt him, his terse words stabbing her as if they were knives.
He was angry and he had the right to be.
She’d purposely stopped writing to him, and the few letters she had written were short and didn’t acknowledge what her heart felt.
Writing to him now was different than when she was at Aunt Bertha’s.
Back then his letters had been a beacon during a dark, oppressive time.
Now they reminded her of what she’d lost. The pain of their separation was always with her.
But her duty was to her family. They had stood by her when she needed them.
She wouldn’t turn her back on them when they needed her, not even for Jalon.
She pressed his letter against her heart, as she had every letter he’d sent.
He loved her. The first time she read those words, she had surprised herself by not being surprised.
Hadn’t he shown her how he felt? The words were nice, but she had felt his love.
Had seen it in action. That meant more than words.
But the time away from him had revealed something else—he didn’t need her.
Not really. He had his sister, his farm, his cousin, good friends, and a warm community.
What could she offer him? She felt so empty, so alone, despite being surrounded by family—a family that was barely surviving.
That was why she hadn’t wanted him to visit.
He would take on that burden, too, and she couldn’t allow that.
He had his own life to lead, his own dreams to fulfill.
He’d been chained by his past for so long, and now that he was finally free, she wasn’t going to put more obstacles in his way. She loved him enough to let him go.
She folded the letter and put it between the pages of a book she’d tried to read but had given up on weeks ago.
She sat up on the couch and stretched, her back aching from sleeping on the lumpy furniture for more than two months.
Pale light streamed through the front window, signaling the sunrise.
There were no curtains over the window anymore.
Now that Bishop Weaver was in charge, he’d enforced the rule in the Ordnung about window treatments.
Their previous bishop’s view had been “as long as they aren’t fancy.
” But Bishop Weaver had a different view.
Phoebe had learned quickly that the man had different views on a lot of things.
But at least one fear hadn’t been realized since her return to Fredericktown—Bishop Weaver seemed to have dropped the threat of marrying Phoebe off.
He hadn’t talked to her at church, and he hadn’t stopped by for a visit.
Neither of her parents had brought it up, which meant they didn’t know about the bishop’s previous threat.
He must have changed his mind, which was a relief.
It was also a slight reprieve from the oppression hanging over her family.
As quietly as she could, she rose from the couch, folded the faded quilt that had belonged to generations of her mother’s family, then crept over to the crib against the wall near her parents’ bedroom. Elam was eight months old and didn’t always sleep through the night.
When Elam wanted his mamm , Phoebe knew it tore at Mamm ’s heart that she couldn’t take care of him.
It had been Phoebe’s idea to move the crib out of her parents’ bedroom and into the living room so she could be there when Elam awakened.
She’d do anything to help her mother recover and let her father get a decent night’s sleep.
She walked over to Elam’s crib and smiled when she saw he was still fast asleep.
She kissed the tip of her finger and pressed it lightly on his head, which was already covered in dark, fine curls.
Malachi had been nearly bald at the same age, and he’d looked as sweet as Elam when he was sleeping.
He was now sharing a small bedroom with four of her brothers, the ones who were nearest to his age.
Since they’d arrived, he seemed to have succumbed to the gray mood of the rest of the family.
He’d long since stopped asking when they would return to Birch Creek, as if he knew they couldn’t leave anytime soon.
Yet he carried Jalon’s yo-yo with him everywhere, not playing with it, but just holding it tightly.
Remember that you’ve got a part of me with you all the time.
Shoving Jalon’s words out of her mind, she went into the kitchen, picked up a basket, and went to the chicken coop to gather eggs for breakfast. When she went inside, she checked the first laying box.
The hen tilted her head as Phoebe searched for an egg.
“Didn’t feel like laying this morning, girl?
” She moved her hand to the next box. The hen pecked at her when she removed her hand.
“Ouch!” Not only was the hen ornery, but she hadn’t laid either.
Phoebe checked each box, and while she wasn’t pecked again, she also didn’t find any eggs.
This wasn’t good. They didn’t have much food in the pantry, and breakfast would have been thin even with the eggs.
She frowned, hoping this was a one-time thing.
It would be disastrous if their hens stopped laying.
They relied on those eggs, not just for breakfast but for other meals.
As she went back to the house, she reevaluated her menu for the day.
She’d planned to prepare a ham steak for supper, the last one they had.
Instead she’d cook it for breakfast. Her dad and brothers couldn’t have just bread and butter for breakfast and put in a full day of farmwork.
She’d have to figure out something else for supper.
When she went inside, she checked on Elam again. He was stirring but still asleep. Quickly, she prepared breakfast, finishing just as her brothers and son came downstairs and bustled into the kitchen. Malachi tugged on the skirt of her dress. “Elam’s crying,” he said.
She touched his cheek. “ Danki for letting me know. I’ll get him in a minute.”
“I’ve got him.” Her father walked in, carrying Elam. “I changed him too.”
Phoebe set down the plate of sliced bread, then took Elam from her father. She fixed a bottle while everyone settled at the table, several of them two in a chair. “I’m sorry for the skimpy breakfast,” she said as she leaned against the counter and fed her youngest brother.