finally heard his name being called while moving hay bales down from the barn loft. “I’m on my way,” he hollered from the loft window. On his way to the house he spotted Aunt Iris on the back porch. She was about to clang the rusty old farm bell when she spotted him on the path. She waved and then disappeared into the house.
Slipping off his muddy boots in the back hall, he padded into a kitchen smelling faintly of chicken soup.
“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you heard me. You’d better eat some lunch and then take your shower. With the deacons and bishop meeting us at the cemetery, we shouldn’t be late.”
Nathan washed his hands before slumping into a chair. Iris set a plate of two sandwiches, sweet pickles, and a sliced apple before him. “I thought I smelled chicken soup,” he said taking a bite of the sandwich. A simmering pot of beef, chicken, or twelve-bean soup had been Ruth’s standard fare on Saturdays. Then they could reheat the leftovers on the Sabbath without much fuss.
“Ach, you’re smelling chicken and dumplings. I put them in the big roaster to take with us to eat later at my son’s house.” She seemed to be avoiding eye contact and any direct reference that it would be a funeral they were attending today. “Would you prefer to eat a bowl of that now instead of sandwiches?” she asked while filling baby bottles at the stove.
“No, danki. These are fine—more than enough. I just wondered about the smell.” He took a hearty bite. With all Iris had to do, he didn’t want to appear finicky. “Aren’t you eating? Would you like this other sandwich?”
“I’ve already eaten. I’ll be right back,” she said as she disappeared down the hallway.
Nathan sat eating in a house that no longer felt like his home, as though he were the guest and not Iris.
“Here we are,” she said cheerily a few minutes later. “Little Abraham is ready for his lunch too.” She set the baby carrier on the kitchen table next to his plate.
Nathan glanced into the folds of blue quilt and saw only a pink forehead and button nose. He continued eating bologna and cheese with no particular urge to get a better look.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Say guder nachmittag to your son.”
He locked gazes with her across the room. “He doesn’t talk, Aunt, neither English nor Deutsch, and I don’t see the point of babbling to infants.”
“Well, just take a better look then. He’s not going to bite you.” Surprisingly, she walked over and poked Nathan in the shoulder.
He tamped down his rising irritation. Didn’t he have to finish lunch and shower for the funeral? Hadn’t she made a point that they shouldn’t be late? He set the remainder of the sandwich back on the plate and put the plate in the sink. “I have to get ready to bury my wife. Danki for the meal.” He walked into the bathroom without another glance at the baby carrier. At least the youngster wasn’t kicking up his usual fuss.
Thirty minutes later he found his aunt still in the kitchen, packing baby bottles into a tote bag. A second cloth bag stated the obvious in large red letters: Diaper Bag. Iris was dressed from head to toe in mourning clothes, from her heavy black bonnet down to her black, lace-up shoes. Her dress reached her ankles, and a black shawl hung over the crook of her arm.
“It hasn’t been cool at night for weeks,” he said. “You probably won’t need your wrap.”
Her face looked pale and wan as she glanced up. “You never know, and this way I’ll have it with me. Would you come back inside to carry Abraham after you get the buggy hitched?” She set the roaster of chicken and dumplings into Nathan’s largest hamper.
“Of course,” he murmured, tugging his black wide-brimmed hat down over his ears. Yet he couldn’t help thinking that if he carried the heavy hamper and bags, she could manage a seven-pound tyke in a plastic carrier. He found himself tense with irritation while he hitched up the gelding. If he’d gotten to know some of his English neighbors, maybe one would have been willing to babysit and he wouldn’t have to take Abraham to such a solemn occasion. How respectful would it be to Ruth’s memory if sounds of wailing drowned out the bishop’s Scripture readings?
Nathan turned his face skyward as he emerged from the barn driving the buggy.