The following Wednesday at breakfast, Eli dismayed Lena with news of a massive blizzard taking place in Michigan and Indiana and the Ohio Valley region. Newscasters were calling it “the White Hurricane,” it was so vicious. Already in some areas, fifteen inches had fallen.
“I’d better check on my trip home,” Lena said, thinking she might have to return to the Grants’ home to call to the bus station in downtown Lancaster. “Would this be considered an emergency?” she asked Cousin Harley, who sat in his customary spot at the head of the table. Though it made things hard sometimes, she wanted to respect the Leacock church ordinance even though she was a member in Centreville.
“I’m thinkin’ so . . . ya best go ahead and make the call,” Harley replied, his expression serious. “I’ll be sure an’ see what the mailman has to say ’bout this storm.”
Eli continued talking about the blizzard, saying he’d heard from several Englischers in town late yesterday that airplanes weren’t even flying. “With the interstates closed, too, there’s no travel in or out of the area.”
Lena’s heart sank. Oh, she hoped the reports were wrong and she could still get home for Christmas. Hans and my family are counting on it!
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Mimi said, looking at her from across the table.
Lena nodded, but there was a growing knot in her stomach. After all, she was packed and ready to go, more than excited to see everyone in Centreville again. It was all planned, too—she would be staying with the family that had taken in Emma, Verena, and Liz.
But if the bus doesn’t leave for Michigan tomorrow . . . she thought, holding her breath. Really, that prospect was too depressing to contemplate.
By midafternoon, Lena had read the latest newspaper account of the Great Blizzard. She showed Mimi the front page and a photo of the storm. “Have ya ever had such a blizzard?”
“Well, back sixteen years ago in February, sixteen inches of snow fell here. Most everything came to a standstill,” Mimi told her, folding the paper and placing it on the table. “I remember Harley sayin’ he measured twelve-foot drifts along our road.”
Lena tried to imagine such terrible drifts.
“And before that, when I was just a young married woman, a powerful snowstorm blew through here and blocked the roads, closing the schools. No one could get anywhere, not even Amish folk.” Mimi went to the pantry and brought out a pint of dill pickles, which she put in the refrigerator. “What ’bout you, Lena Rose? Do ya typically get deep snow out in Michigan?”
“Oh, we always have lots of snow, but there was one really big blizzard when I was nine or ten that dumped at least twenty inches. After it stopped falling, my father went out and took his yardstick and pushed it all the way down into the fresh snow to measure it. Liz and Verena were real little then, and they were inside the kitchen with Emma and me, pressin’ their noses against the windowpane, pleading with Mamma to let them go out and make a snowman.” Lena loved this memory. “They were so happy when Dat came inside and insisted that all of us bundle up and go out to make snow creatures, I guess you could call them.”
“Why’s that?” Mimi wore a big smile.
“Well, because two of them didn’t look anything like snowmen.” Now Lena was laughing as she recalled aloud the one-eyed creation Wilbur had made—he’d run down to the cellar to get a single piece of coal for the eye, then added some straw to the top of its head. “Little Liz and Verena had plenty of help from Dat, so theirs looked like a snowman you’d expect to see, but the one Emma and I built was as silly-lookin’ as Wilbur’s, with two carrot noses and three lettuce-leaf ears.”
Mimi chuckled as she wiped down the front of the cupboards. “Sounds like you have some real happy times to remember.”
Lena nodded as she went around and dried the fronts of the cupboards with a dry rag, still remembering the snow creatures she, Emma, and Wilbur had made that winter. How Mamma’s peals of laughter had rung through the cold air when she, too, came out wearing her warmest black coat and scarf.
“That was one of the few times I secretly wished for a camera,” Lena confessed to Mimi.
“Well, ya really don’t need a photo, now, do ya, clear as your memory of that moment is,” Mimi pointed out.
Mimi’s right, Lena thought, thankful when Eli offered to take her over to the Grants’ to call the bus depot. Soon she learned that, due to deteriorating road conditions, bus transportation to Michigan was postponed until next week. After Christmas, thought Lena Rose, thoroughly disappointed. I’ve been waiting all this time, and now this!
The mood at supper was subdued as Lena shared the news about the buses. “I guess I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Lena declared. “Even mail delivery in the area has been canceled.”
Mimi sighed and gave her a caring yet concerned look. “I’m so sorry, Lena. Wish there was something we could do.”
Uncle Solomon spoke up. “I know you’ll miss your own people, but we’ll have us all a real nice time here.”
Lena tried to smile, but her hopes were dashed. “That’s real thoughtful of ya, Solomon.”
“I’ll make your favorite pie,” Mimi promised.
“Denki, Mimi, but don’t go to any extra trouble, really.” Lena meant the words for all of them, knowing they were trying to make the best of it for her sake. She fought back the tears that threatened, wishing to escape to her room and bury her face in her pillow.
CHAPTER
17
Friday brought yet another day of bitter cold, but Rebekah Petersheim braved the weather to arrive in her son-in-law’s carriage in time for her lesson. Initially it had been postponed because of
