An Amish Singing by Amy Clipston

Author:Amy Clipston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2020-09-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Two

“Let me help you to the kitchen.” Darlene tied Mamm’s robe around her waist and then held her arm as she slowly shuffled toward the kitchen for some supper. She’d showed little improvement all day, and Darlene knew she’d done the right thing by staying home from Sharon’s supper.

Mamm had lost so much weight that she looked as if she might blow away on a windy day. Her dresses hung on her as if they’d been made for a much larger woman, and her thick, golden hair had started falling out in clumps. Darlene had always thought her mother was beautiful, but now her deep-brown eyes had lost their brightness, and her cheeks were sunken in.

It nearly tore Darlene to shreds to see how weak and exhausted Mamm was. She would fall asleep while trying to read a book, and Darlene and Biena had to take turns bathing her. Darlene often felt like Mamm’s mother instead of her child.

She did her best to hold back tears as she steered the once-strong Roselyn Bender to her usual chair at one end of the kitchen table. “Would you like some pot roast, Mamm?”

“No, danki.” She touched her blue headscarf. “Some soup would be gut, though.”

“Coming up.” Darlene retrieved the refrigerator jar of homemade chicken noodle soup she’d thrown together yesterday and poured it into a pot before turning on the propane stove.

Biena carried a large serving dish with the pot roast to the table just as Dat came in from outside. He crossed the room to kiss Mamm on the cheek. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“I’m gut, Al.” Mamm touched his chest as she gazed up at him, and Darlene took in how tiny and frail her hand looked. She was not well.

She turned her attention to the pot and stirred the soup.

“You just closed up the store?” Mamm asked Dat.

“Ya.” He moved to the sink to wash his hands. “I took over for Darlene so she could make supper.” He turned to Biena. “You made my favorite tonight. It smells appeditlich.”

“Danki.” Biena set a basket of rolls on the table.

The soup began to bubble, and Darlene ladled a healthy portion into a bowl, then carried it to her mother.

“Danki.” Mamm sounded breathy, as if it took great effort for her to speak.

“Gern gschehne.”

“Let’s eat,” Dat said.

Darlene took her usual spot across from her sister, and after a silent prayer, she placed a helping of pot roast on her plate. She glanced at Mamm and saw her shakily scoop a spoonful of soup and bring it to her mouth. Darlene bit her lower lip and held her breath, trying to resist the urge to offer help.

Then Mamm dropped the spoon, splattering soup outside the bowl, and Darlene couldn’t hold back the words.

“Do you need help, Mamm?” Darlene pushed her chair back.

“No.” Mamm’s tone was nearly as sharp as the knives sitting in a wooden block on the counter, and Darlene winced at the tone. “I can do it.” She huffed out a breath as she mopped the mess with her napkin.

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