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mayhaps?” She didn’t wait to hear if he spoke. Instead, she hurried to the sink. She needed to be busy, to move around the kitchen. She had never witnessed such a solemn scene. It was as if a heavy cloud was hanging over the room, draining it of energy. It felt oppressive, as if a weight was pressing against her chest. She wished that she could leave, to get away from the sorrow and pain lingering in the air, but she knew that dealing with the wrath of Rachel would be worse than staying.
    Please help this family, Lord, she prayed to herself. Please help that child.
    “Don’t touch that!”
    Startled, Mary Ruth spun around at the sound of the stern, deep voice that boomed throughout the room. She was surprised to see that Menno had looked up, his dark eyes piercing and glaring at her. She realized that he was yelling at her for opening the cabinet to get a plastic cup. Her hand was inside the cabinet and she froze, uncertain whether to move away or to continue.
    Menno continued to glare at her. “That’s his mamm’s job!” he snapped. “She tends her children, not you!”
    “Menno,” the bishop said gently, placing his hand on Menno’s shoulder. “Mary Ruth is just trying to help.” He nodded at Mary Ruth to continue. “Your boy’s mamm is gone, Menno. Martha can’t comfort Melvin now. But we are here to comfort all of you.”
    “That’s his mamm’s job,” he repeated, this time his voice was softer, almost a resigned utterance.
    Mary Ruth handed the drink of water to the boy. He took it but didn’t drink it. Mary Ruth rubbed his back gently, wishing that she was more like Rachel, so confident and able to take charge. It felt awkward to comfort a child that she didn’t really know. She had only met the Yoder family a few times at church functions with Rachel and Leah. She hadn’t paid any attention to them. Now, she wished she had spent a moment getting to know Martha Yoder. But it was too late. She was gone and nothing could change that.
     
    The funeral was held three days later. After all, it took three days to dig the grave, prepare the coffin, and arrange the house. Rachel insisted on helping as much as she could during that time, bringing food over to the house and making certain that the kinner were fed. Several times, she brought Mary Ruth with her, leaving Leah to care for the smaller children.
    “Why me?” Mary Ruth asked. She dreaded going to the house.
    Rachel frowned at her. “They need us” was her sister’s simple answer.
    With Rachel, there was no arguing. Mary Ruth had learned that years ago. As the oldest sibling of seven, Rachel had been taught to take charge from a small age. It was part of her upbringing and something that everyone had long ago come to depend upon. And as the youngest of seven (nine if you counted the two that died as babies), Mary Ruth had learned that her life was a constant stream of taking orders from those who were in charge.
    During each visit, Mary Ruth busied herself cleaning the kitchen. There was a never-ending pile of dishes as people came by to sit with the body and to show support for Menno. Then, there was the viewing when Martha’s body was laid out in the sitting room and the family gathered around to reflect and say their goodbyes.
    Mary Ruth tried not to look into the room. She didn’t want to see the coffin. It was a simple pine box and was kept shut. For that, Mary Ruth was grateful. She didn’t want to see the body of Martha Yoder. Certainly Martha wore her wedding dress, a pale blue dress with a white apron. But her body had been badly maimed and the decision had been made by her family to not upset the community with a viewing that entailed witnessing her injuries.
    After that viewing, four men had carried the pine box outside to the horse drawn carriage. It was a buggy with an open back, just long enough to support the coffin. Mary Ruth felt her throat swell as she watched Menno following the men, his children close behind. A long