An Empty Cup(10)

As she began to see clearly, Rosanna let her gaze drift to the barn, where Aaron was in the paddock, working with his new horse. Aaron’s surprise when he received Reuben’s generous gift had nearly made her cry. She had never seen her son so choked up with emotion. He hadn’t expected something so extravagant. Rosanna knew from past experience that an unexpected gift was the best kind to give.

Since Reuben had given him the horse, Aaron spent all of his free time with it. Every night he groomed the horse, currying the dirt in its coat with the hard, round rubber currycomb before brushing it down with a hard brush until all the dirt came to the coat’s surface. He did not voice his pride in the horse, but his eyes shone when he finished grooming and led it into the paddock.

Reuben had spent the first few nights showing Aaron how to work with the horse, lungeing it in big circles using a long line and whip. Rosanna had watched, her heart swelling at the sight of her son and her husband, both such gentle souls, training the horse together. Rosanna had listened as Reuben explained to Aaron the importance of making the horse alternate between large and small circles as he lunged, first at a walk and then at a trot. She noticed that Aaron hung on to every word that his stepfather spoke. His attentiveness to both the horse and to Reuben spoke volumes about his character as a young man.

Timothy would never have spent so much quality time with their son—time spent teaching him to be a man. An Amish man, Rosanna had corrected herself. For a moment, Rosanna had felt tears at the corner of her eyes, but she had known better than to cry.

Now, as they sat on the porch while Aaron worked with the horse in the paddock, a calm sense of peace descended on the farm. Rosanna felt the warmth of happiness fill her.

“So, I have an idea,” said Reuben suddenly.

“What’s your idea, Reuben?” she asked, turning her dark eyes in his direction.

He stopped rocking the chair; the floorboard was silent as he placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward. Whatever was on his mind was something he had been pondering for a while. “You got me thinking last week when you stopped by the store,” he began, choosing his words carefully.

“I did?”

Reuben laughed. He always laughed at her reactions, especially when she was surprised that she might have offered something of value to him. After years of being told that she wasn’t good at anything, not cleaning or cooking or even raising the kinner, she always felt amazement whenever Reuben thought she was useful. Compliments had been few and far between in the years preceding their marriage.

“Indeed you did,” he affirmed, a tender expression on his face. “And during worship yesterday I made a decision about the shop.”

Intrigued, Rosanna tilted her head, resting it on the back of the chair as she watched him. “The bishop might say you were supposed to be thinking about God, not work.”

He laughed at her jest. “You mentioned about helping out at the shop.”

Helping out at the shop? Stunned into silence, Rosanna dropped her embroidery onto her lap and stared at him. Had he really been listening? Did he really want her help? There was nothing she would like better than to work with her husband at his store. Not only would it be nice to get away from the farm, but she knew she would enjoy interacting with other people during the day. For the past few years, she had felt increasingly isolated at the farm.

As if reading her mind, Reuben held up his hand, weathered from years of working with rough leather. “Hold on there, Rosanna Troyer. I can see what you’re thinking already.”

Her hopes dashed, she exhaled sharply and picked up her embroidery once again.

“Now I know you wanted to help out and all. And I sure do appreciate that offer.” He smiled, as if that could mend her hurt. “But I don’t want my fraa working down at the shop. Besides, you have enough to do here with the farm and house.”

She tried not to show her disappointment. She focused her eyes on the needle, thread, and material, hoping that her expression didn’t give away her emotions. It usually did.

“Now if the shop was located here on your farm,” he said, tugging thoughtfully at his beard, “I might have considered you helping out a bit. You could run in and out as needed. But we have a most unusual setup.”

No further explanation was necessary. She understood what he meant. When she had agreed to marry him, they had had a sit-down discussion about the living arrangements. She didn’t want to get rid of the farm, and he certainly wasn’t going to get rid of the shop. He did, however, understand that her house was a better place for them to reside, and without any argument, he agreed to move there instead of uprooting Rosanna and the children.