The Homestead by Linda Byler

Author:Linda Byler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Good Books
Published: 2017-04-03T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

The dreadful news of Sarah’s mother’s passing arrived in a letter from her sister. Hod had gone to town, brought back the letter and watched Sarah’s still lovely face crumple and fall, her large dark eyes straining to contain the endless reservoir of tears that would follow. She would have fallen if Hod had not reached out to support her, which is how Mose found his wife weeping in his neighbor’s arms.

Sarah would not be comforted, her grief like a great swelling of darkness in her body that shut off the light and life around her. Mose led her away from Hod to the armless rocking chair, knelt before her, and dried her tears. He spoke many words of comfort, quoted scripture in soft tones that Sarah failed to hear, so completely was she swallowed by her grief.

Hod stood, shifting awkwardly, cleared his throat before offering them money for the train fare.

“Do you want to go, Sarah?”

Sarah shook her head and whispered that she’d been buried weeks ago. Hod ground his teeth, the muscles in his cheek working. How could this man take his wife to a region such as this with none of their own kinfolk near? Obviously, the Amish were a close-knit group, like birds or animals, one kind stuck to their own. This Hod understood, and as time went on, their existence here, dependent on others, made no sense.

He sent Abby over with an agate roaster of beef stew and dumplings. Sarah was composed but fragile with the force of her grief. Hod sent Clay with the truck to fetch Hannah, saying the family needed her until Sarah was better, which Clay did, trying to hide the happiness he felt.

He had a hard time persuading Hannah to go with him. She stood like a statue, her arms crossed, and listened as he spoke of her grandmother’s passing, her face white and resolute, not a tear in her eyes.

“I’m not going back in the truck. I told you. Before.”

“Yes, you are. Your mother needs you.”

“And what if Dat sees me pulling up to the house? Then what?”

“He ain’t gonna do nothing.”

“You don’t think?”

“No. He’s real worried about your Ma.”

“She’s not my ma. She’s my Mam.”

Clay didn’t answer. He wanted to smack her the way she was acting, all hoity-toity and holier-than-thou. When he didn’t answer, she didn’t know how to take it, just watched after him when he strode out of the store.

He went out and sat in the truck, figured he’d wait about a half hour, and if she didn’t get her royal self out, why then he’d just go back home without her.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty. He was just about to start the motor when she yanked the door of the truck so hard he thought she might pull it off the hinges. Still mad, he warned her not to pull on that door like that. She’d pull it right off.

“Oh, get over it,” she answered rapidly.

Clay didn’t say anything, just started the truck,

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