An Amish Reunion

Looking at the frames on the table in front of her, she smiled. She’d checked each one to make sure it was in gut condition. If Daniel made the supers to her specifications, she could hook the pieces of comb onto the frames with rubber bands and set them in the boxes. The bees would take care of the rest, hooking the comb into place.

A piece of mesh was in the center of the table. She’d place it at the bottom of the hive, so debris could fall from the hive out onto the ground. She had everything she needed other than the supers.

Her hands stilled on the stack of frames. Had she been a complete fool to agree to help Daniel in exchange for him teaching her about taking care of Shelby?

Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away. The verse from Matthew echoed inside her mind.

She’d done the right thing to accept Daniel’s suggestion of a barter, but it wasn’t easy to see him day after day, because each conversation was another reminder of how he’d dumped her without a backward glance. She appreciated how he’d offered to help her take Shelby to the doktorfraa. The kind had screamed every time Hannah came near her yesterday until Grossmammi Ella had begun to complain. Tears had led to another night with no sleep. Now, her great-grandmother and the toddler were asleep, so Hannah had time to gather what she needed for the bees’ removal.

A noise came from upstairs. The sound of Shelby’s crib creaking against the floor. The little girl must be awake.

Gathering the frames and mesh, Hannah set them beside her sewing machine. She hurried up the stairs and into the kind’s room. A bed draped with a quilt was pushed against the wall to leave room in the middle for the crib Hannah had used as a boppli.

For once, the little girl didn’t shriek at the sight of her. Instead, she cried silent sobs. Her left cheek was swollen, and she kept pulling at the side of her mouth. When the kind started to make her gibberish sounds, Hannah noticed a swelling on her left lower gum.

“Oh, you poor little girl,” she murmured. “You’re teething, ain’t so?”

She cuddled Shelby close with the toddler’s right cheek against her shoulder. Carrying her downstairs, she went into the kitchen. She kept Shelby balanced on her hip while opening a cupboard and taking out a bottle of honey.

“Let’s try this.” She dipped her finger into the open bottle and rubbed a little bit of honey on Shelby’s gum.

The kind started to pull away, then paused as the sweet flavor soothed her. Or maybe the honey had already eased the pain. Hannah wasn’t sure, but Amos Stoltzfus, Daniel’s brother who owned the grocery store, had mentioned several times he’d been asked by a mamm for honey to help with her boppli’s teething.

Carrying the little girl into the living room, Hannah sat in the rocking chair and brushed Shelby’s sweaty bangs off her forehead. Hannah crooned a wordless tune as the little girl faded into a deep slumber. For the first time since her arrival at the house, Shelby didn’t fight going to sleep.

What a wunderbaar bundle the toddler was in her arms! Hannah hadn’t realized, at some moment after Daniel had dumped her and her great-grandmother demanded so much of her attention, she’d relinquished the thought of having kinder. When she was younger, she’d dreamed of a house filled with a large family. It’d been lonely being an only kind when her classmates had had lots of siblings. She’d watched them together and wondered what it would be like to have sisters and brothers. Almost until the day her mamm had died, she’d prayed the Lord would bless her family with more bopplin. She’d longed to be the older sister, teaching the little ones to walk and to talk and to play.

God had brought Shelby into her life, and it was Hannah’s duty to help the toddler learn to become a gut member of their community. This special kind was already a blessing.

Maybe, after this morning, the little girl would stop crying whenever Hannah was near. If only it could be that easy!

Hopes of Shelby trusting her vanished as soon as the toddler awoke and began crying the moment her eyes opened. She looked away as Hannah stood and went to the kitchen to get the honey to ease the toddler’s teething pain.

“The boppli sounds hungry,” Grossmammi Ella said after Hannah had spread the honey on Shelby’s gum again. The old woman walked to the stove with a determination Hannah hadn’t seen in months. “I’ll make her some fried mush. My kinder loved it, and my kins-kinder loved it more.”

“We’ve been blessed to have you in the kitchen.” Hannah stifled a yawn as she set a fussy Shelby in the high chair. The honey seemed to be doing the trick again because the toddler’s screeches had eased to soft whimpers. “Do you want me to measure out the cornmeal?”

Her great-grandmother waved aside her suggestion. “If after all these years of cooking for three generations I can’t figure out how to much cornmeal to put in for fried mush, I should give up my apron.”

Hannah laughed hard, surprising herself. How long had it been since she’d given in to laughter, letting it surge through her and leaving her awash with happiness? She didn’t want to know, because it’d been far too long.