“There now,” Fogarty proclaimed. “We know it is working. Good, thin blood.”
Her stomach turned over on itself. She had intended to tell them about Joseph possibly squeezing her fingers, but if she had tried to speak, she may well have vomited right there in her own kitchen, all over the leeches, her table, her sohn, everything. Anyway, it was probably simply a dream. A dream she wished would come true.
Careful to keep her mouth covered, she pointed to the washing basket with one hand and went quickly to grab it. She tried to think of anything but leeches as she carried the aromatic basket out into the spring afternoon. A piece of the men’s conversation floated out after her.
Samuel’s voice. “Fogarty, you are as good to me as any brother. You may as well be the brother I never had.”
Rebekah was careful to say nothing, because she knew her father did in fact have a brother. His younger brother, who was born, Elnora said, when Samuel was only a year or so old. The baby, called Abram, passed from life after only a few short months on earth. Or perhaps it had been a few short weeks. Rebekah could not rightly remember, and her mother had only voiced the conversation once. A proper time to bring it up again for clarification had never presented itself, so she had kept silent.
Still, the story of her young uncle’s untimely passing and her father’s inability to recall his being alive at all was depressing. Though she could not blame her father, he certainly was not old enough to remember anything about him or that time in his life, but it was odd to hear him say that he never had a brother. Because he did have a brother. A brother in heaven.
Rebekah pondered this as she made her way with the dirty laundry down to the little river that tinkled along behind their home, and she could not help but smile, despite the bone-gnawing exhaustion that had made itself at home within her. With all the brotherly thoughts pushed aside, she was able to turn her mind back to the here and now. To her blessings. To her family. “Rich is an understatement,” she told the fat robin that hopped along the riverbank beside her, seeking out worms. “I would venture to say that each of us in the Stoll-Graber family is richer in love than anyone else I know.”
Chapter Eleven
The sun was dipping well into the western sky by the time Rebekah returned home with the clean, wet laundry. She loved how it smelled, like lye, cold water, and sunshine. Which makes sense because that is precisely what is in there.
As she was hanging the sheets on the line, she realized her cheeks ached.
That is odd.
She reached up and felt them, and realized she was smiling.
“You look happy, dochder.” Samuel appeared at the end of the clothesline. “It does my old heart good to see my eldest bopplin happy.”
“And it does your dochder’s heart good to see her fater happy and healthy. The leeches from Fogarty must really help, even though they make me kind of ill to look at.”
He nodded. “I believe they do.” He sank down into a chair that he had obviously brought out for just that purpose. “And if I really let myself think about them, they make my stomach churn a little, too.”
Rebekah chuckled. “I can only imagine. I suppose you cannot let yourself think of them at all.”
“Well, I have to think of them the right way. Those little things, I believe, have helped make me well enough to come see you and the bopplin. And that is good enough for me.” He nodded a curt nod at Rebekah as if to punctuate his feelings about the leeches. “That Englischer barber is really something else. I am quite glad to know him.”
She slid a clothespin over the sheet and stepped down the line. “It seems you two have become fast friends.”
Samuel smiled. “Friendship is more worthwhile than gold.”
“Jah,” Rebekah said. “You have taught me that from when I was small as Dawson there. Hey, speaking of Dawson, where is he?”
“He fell asleep while I was making a snack.”
“Danke, Fater.” She prayed a prayer of gratefulness for her father in her heart as she slid the other clothespins into place. “Is Fogarty minding him?”
“No, he had to go. Other patients, or other haircuts. I could not figure out which.” Samuel smiled. “I figured out what Dawson was fussing about earlier, though.”
“Oh? What was it?”
“He made me promise not to tell. He said he would show his mater when he wakes up.”
Rebekah giggled. “I am sure he did.”
Samuel’s face shone as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud and lit his face with a bright glow. A chilled breeze swirled around them, bringing with it the fresh smell of a nearby tulip tree. “God’s blessings, Dochder,” Samuel whispered. “Look for them each and every day.”
Rebekah picked up the empty basket and walked over to her father. “Thank you for coming to keep me company. Would you like to go inside and have a bite to eat?”
Samuel let her help him to his feet. Rebekah remembered him as a larger-than-life man, so handsome and strong and always laughing and happy when she was a little girl. Still the same man, he had seemed so much feebler since his possible heart seizure. Today was no exception, but the look of peace and gratefulness on his weathered face brushed away her temporary worries.
“The Lord impoverishes, and He enriches. He humbles, and He lifts up,” Samuel said.
I know exactly what that means now.
“1st Samuel chapter 2, verse 7.” Rebekah let her father escort her into the house. “The book of the Bible that you were named for.”
***
Inside, the kitchen smelled delicious. “Fater, you outdid yourself! It smells…” Rebekah searched her vocabulary. “Mouth-watering.”
Samuel took his seat. “Sourdough biscuits with sliced radishes, bacon, and, of course, cinnamon cake.”
This was Samuel’s go-to meal when she was a girl. It was rare that he was the chef of the kitchen, but when Elnora was down with a new baby or off helping bring another baby into the village, the task was left to him, and he never disappointed. Sometimes, he would even cut the biscuits in half, carve them into little hearts, and smother them in butter, which made it her favorite meal of all time.
“Coffee or tea, Fater?”
Samuel thought for a moment. “Coffee is for mornings. How about tea?”
Rebekah set the kettle on the wood-burning oven as her father served their food. “You mentioned having a good visit with Fogarty. Would you like to talk about it?”
“He is a good person, Englischer or not.” Samuel served Rebekah’s place first, then his own. “Did you know that he has lived all over this country? Said that as a boy he has run barefoot through cottonfields and jungles alike. He has seen the rain—” Samuel stopped short. “We should probably set a plate aside for Thomas since he spends all night up with his pack of bopplins.”
