by Emma Miller
The whole thing started when Phoebe had, on impulse, rolled out some fresh noodles for a chicken soup one day. Everyone had raved about the wide egg noodles, and they wanted them with butter the next night as a side dish. Two days later, they wanted them again. With a family so large, she needed to make a lot of noodles, and letting them dry thrown over bowls and pots wasn’t practical. Bay was the one who convinced her they needed freestanding drying racks made from wooden dowels, and then she persuaded Joshua and Jacob to make them. It turned out Bay had ulterior motives for getting the brothers to make the noodle racks. She wanted to bag noodles and sell them in the harness shop in her little baking and preserves area, which seemed to be growing bigger by the week.
Satisfied with the thinness of the dough, Phoebe set aside the wooden rolling pin, picked up a paring knife and began to cut the last of the long strips that would be noodles once they dried. They had to dry, of course, because otherwise they would just be a kind of slippery dumpling. By her calculation, she had enough noodles to bag up a dozen one-pound bags and still be able to make a traditional chicken and noodle dish served over mashed potatoes for family dinner the following day. There was no need to cook tonight because they were all invited to Rosemary’s oldest daughter Lovage’s home to celebrate her husband’s grandmother’s birthday. It was to be a big event with standing room only, Lovey had told her at church on Sunday. Her husband Marshall’s grandmother, Lynita, had insisted on not only inviting everyone from their church district, but three more districts. It would be a fun family evening with good food and conversation, and Phoebe was looking forward to it.
The back door opened, and Phoebe heard Joshua’s voice. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but there was no mistaking the peals of laughter coming from her son. A moment later, Joshua walked into the kitchen carrying John-John on his shoulders.
“Duck down!” he warned in English.
The toddler obediently followed Joshua’s instruction. The moment her son had entered the house, everyone had begun to teach him English. They still spoke to him in their native language, of course. But Benjamin believed that being bilingual was important to being a part of the community within Kent County, both Englisher and Amish, so Phoebe’s little boy began learning at once. And it was no surprise to her that his vocabulary was growing in leaps and bounds.
“Mammi!” John-John cried excitedly when he spotted her. He was still wearing his denim coat, and a knit cap that was identical to Joshua’s. His nose was bright red, but he had clearly enjoyed his time outside.
“Sohn,” she said, looking up at him sitting on Joshua’s shoulders. “Did you see to the corncrib door?”
Joshua looked up at John, repeating her question in Pennsylvania Deutsch.
“Yes!” John exclaimed, grinning and clapping his hands together.
“All fixed,” Joshua declared.
“Fisxed,” John echoed.
“We also put a new laying box in the henhouse, and repaired the milking stool. And we managed to find a few minutes to play with Snowball,” Joshua said, swinging John-John off his shoulders and setting him down on his stockinged feet.
They had both left their boots out in the mudroom, as requested by Rosemary. The previous night there had been a little dustup after someone with rather large “man feet,” as Rosemary had said, had traipsed through her kitchen, leaving footprints on her freshly mopped floor.
“Who’s Snowball?” Phoebe asked, cutting the last strip of noodles in the dough. “Don’t tell me Jacob has brought another stray dog home?”
Joshua eyed Phoebe. “Snowball’s the kitten Ethan brought home. Remember? The one I showed you. The albino.” He leaned down and John stuck his hand inside Joshua’s coat.
Phoebe tucked a lock of hair that had slipped out from beneath her scarf behind her ear. “What are you doing, John?” she asked, first in English and then in Pennsylvania Deutsch. She laid noodles over her hand and carried them to the end of the table, looking for an empty space on one of the racks, which wasn’t going to be easy to find.
“Katz.” John giggled as moved his little hand around inside Joshua coat.
Phoebe raised her eyebrows. “In Joshua’s coat?”
“Ya,” Joshua said sheepishly. He then slipped his hand inside and produced a tiny bundle of white fur.
“Katz!” John cried, putting out both hands to take the kitten.
“Ne, you can’t carry it, right?” Joshua said. “We talked about this, John. If you accidentally drop Snowball, she might be hurt, ya?”
“Ya,” John agreed, reaching out with one finger to stroke the kitten’s back.
“He shouldn’t be bringing that kitten in the house,” Phoebe chided, finally finding a place to hang the last of the egg noodles. “Rosemary said no more pets in the house. She caught Joshua’s dog Silas chewing on James’s high chair again.”
“But it’s just for a few minutes, right?” Joshua asked John. “And then we’ll take her back to the barn, yes?”
“Yes!” John declared, his English pronunciation nearly perfect.
“Now, you can hold her, John,” Joshua went on, “but you have to sit down.” He walked over to the doorway leading to the hall. “Right here.” He waggled his finger. “And you’d best not let her near Rosemary’s rag rug because if that katz has an accident on that rug, we’ll both be in trouble.”
Phoebe didn’t know how much John understood what Joshua was saying in English, but she laughed and her son laughed with her.
John plopped down on the floor and reached out for the kitten Joshua was holding cradled in his arm.
“Cap,” he said, pointing at John’s head.
John plucked his hat off his head and handed it to Joshua.
“And unbutton your coat.” Joshua gestured with his hand. “Otherwise you’ll get overheated. If you get sick, your mam will keep you indoors for days, fussing over you.”
Again, her son did as he was instructed, and then Joshua squatted down and settled the kitten between the toddler’s legs.
Watching the two of them together made Phoebe misty-eyed. Not only had Joshua taken to John-John, but the little boy had taken to him. Which was really quite amazing considering the fact that, in the past, her son had been afraid of men. Any time a man spoke to him, he hid behind her skirts and fussed if she insisted he respond to a question or offer a greeting.
“There you go,” Joshua said, patting John on his head. Then he stood and looked to Phoebe.
“Thank you,” she murmured, smiling at him.
“You’re welcome.” He pulled off his hat and stuffed his and John’s into his coat pocket. He then swung out of his coat and dropped it over one of the kitchen chairs. “All by yourself, are you?”
She nodded, watching him as he approached her. It was interesting to her that the longer she knew him, the more handsome she thought he was. He had the kindest brown eyes and the most beautiful smile that always seemed just a little mischievous. “It’s kind of nice. To have a bit of time to myself.”
“Not much of that around here,” he agreed, coming to stand in front of her. “Which is something I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” She wiped her hands on her apron. She imagined she looked a sight, hair coming loose under the scarf she wore over her head and tied at the back of her neck. Her apron was powdered with flour, and it looked like she had maple syrup from the morning’s breakfast at the hem of her skirt. “What do you mean?”
He reached out to touch her and she knew she should have stepped back, but she couldn’t make herself do it. To her surprise, he just brushed the tip of her nose with his finger.
“Flour,” he told her. “Right there.” He pointed and grinned. “On your nose.”
She laughed and rubbed at her nose, thinking she should be embarrassed. But she wasn’t. Not in the least. Life was so easy with Joshua. He
was even-tempered, gentle and nonjudgmental. Now that she had gotten to know him, she realized her original fear that he might disapprove of her having John-John was completely unfounded. He truly was a man of faith in the greatest sense of the word. And he led his faithful life not just in word but actions. And that, she knew, was hard to come by. It wasn’t that she thought there weren’t good people in the world, only that they were so imperfect.
“What did you say you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked, returning to the end of the table to clean up.
He pulled out an end of one of the long benches alongside the table. “You have time to sit down?”
“Not really.” She walked over to the kitchen counter and opened a drawer in search of the bench scraper. It was an amazing little rectangle of stainless steel Rosemary introduced her to. It was used to lift sticky dough from a surface or scrape flour off a counter or tabletop. “I’ve got to figure out somewhere to put all of these noodles to dry and then I need to finish the schnitz un kepp. Rosemary left the ham hock on the back of the stove, but I forgot to soak the dried apples overnight.” She rolled her eyes. Finally locating the scraper, she returned to the table. “And I’ve still got the dumplings to make.”
“Apple and dumplings? Mmm.” Joshua smacked his lips. “You know how to make apple and dumplings? If I’d known that, I’d have asked you to marry me sooner.”
She pretended to frown. “I think we’d known each other less than a month the first time you asked me to marry you.”
“Did not.” He grabbed her hand. “Well, maybe.” He tugged on her hand. “Come on. Sit down with me for a minute. I’ve serious business to discuss with you, and when do we ever get a chance to talk alone?”
She sighed. “Never.”
“Just for a few minutes.” He pulled the chair at the end of the table out for her. “You’ve been on your feet since dawn. Sit. You deserve a break once in a while.”
“All right, but only for a few minutes.” She took the chair he offered. “And we’re not really alone.” She nodded in the direction of her John, seated on the floor only a few feet from them. He was lying on his belly, propped up on his elbows, watching the kitten bat at an empty thread spool. She had no idea where he had gotten it, but she suspected from his pocket. Since he was old enough to be off lead strings, he’d been tucking odd bits of this and that into his pockets. She always had to be careful to check them before she washed his pants, otherwise she was liable to wash a shiny rock, a bit of corn string or a cicada shell.
Joshua watched her son. “He’s a good boy, Phoebe. Smart. And good-hearted.”
The look he had in his eyes was almost that of a proud parent. And suddenly Phoebe’s heart swelled with joy. Joshua was going to be an excellent father to John-John, better than she had hoped for because he wasn’t going to just accept him as another man’s child. John would be Joshua’s son.
“He is. And you are a good man,” she said softly. “To care for him as you do.” She laid her hand down over his, which was resting on the kitchen table. He had nice hands, the hands of a man who worked hard, but also knew how to wash them well and trim his nails.
He shifted his gaze from the little boy and the kitten to Phoebe. “I could sit all day and look into your eyes,” he told her. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes. And your hair.” He caught another wisp that had escaped her blue scarf and hung across her forehead. “Like honey...spun honey.”
Feeling heat in her face, she drew back, lifting her hand from his. She patted her cheek. “Such nonsense you say.”
“Not nonsense,” he replied matter-of-factly as he sat back on the bench. “The truth. But enough flirting with me, I have things to tell you.”
She chuckled, appreciating that he had lightened the moment. “I was not flirting with you.”
“Sure you were. Look, you’ve made me blush.” He patted his cheeks. “So, here’s what we need to discuss. I want to tell you what I’m thinking, but you have to be honest with me, Phoebe.” He leaned forward again, clasped his hands together and rested them on the table between them. “If this won’t work for you, just tell me. I’ll come up with something else. I promise you.”
“Okay...” She drew out the word. She had no idea what he was talking about, but now she was definitely curious to hear it.
He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Bay and I still have to go over some of the details with my dat, but it looks like we can break ground on the greenhouse as soon as we get the first thaw in the spring. Mid-March, we’re thinking. Our plan is to put up a little makeshift greenhouse for seedlings right away, then we have a little time to build the bigger one. For this year we’re thinking we use some of Dat’s shop for sales, but we leave room to connect the two buildings later. Build our own sales shop. Bay has it in her head folks will come shopping for plants and wander over to the harness shop for their other needs. Seeds, baked goods, ointments for their livestock, you name it.”
She nodded. She didn’t know much about the business of sales, but she could tell Joshua had a head for it. And Bay, too. Listening to the two of them go on at the dinner table, she had no doubt they would be successful in their new venture.
“I think we’ve got a good business model here and I honestly believe that I can make a decent living, what with selling plants and other things. I’m thinking we should go into making little fish ponds and water gardens. Like Rosemary’s out back.” He knocked on the table with his knuckles. “Englishers like that sort of thing and they’ll pay you to put it in, sometimes even to maintain it.”
She nodded, enjoying hearing the excitement in his voice.
“But here’s the thing,” he said, hesitating. “The money I’ve been saving since I started getting paid to work when I was fourteen, it all needs to go into the business right now. For this growing season. So...what I’m trying to say is that, Phoebe, I can’t build a house for us right now. Dat’s already offered me a bit of land on the back of the property past the old orchard. It’s the perfect place to build a house, but not this year,” he finished.
“So you think we should wait a season to be married,” she said, trying hard to hide her disappointment. She knew what he was saying made sense, but now that she’d just about made up her mind to marry him, the idea of having to wait a whole year, or maybe longer, was discouraging.
“Ne!” He held up his palm to her. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. What I’m saying...what I’m asking you, is how you would feel about marrying and living here. Just for a year. Two at most,” he added quickly. “There are more than enough bedrooms in this house that we could have the privacy due a man and wife, and that way we could save money. I don’t know if I ever told you this before, but my dat and mam lived together with her parents for two years before they bought their farm. They always said it worked out just fine. Ethan was born when they were still living there.” He exhaled, suddenly looking defeated. “You think it’s a terrible idea.”
“Ne, ne, I don’t.” She laughed and grabbed his hands. In truth, she was thinking that if they did marry, she would miss the family life here in Rosemary and Benjamin’s house. It was a life she had never known, and she wanted John-John to see what it was like to be loved the way Rosemary and Benjamin loved their children. She wanted him to see how a family was supposed to treat each other.
“You don’t think it’s a terrible idea?” He sat back, relief clear on his face. Then he leaned forward again, his forehead creasing. “You’re sure? You’re not just saying that?”
She drew her hands from his, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I’m saying what I think. And that’s something we should agree on right now, Joshua. That if we marry...we’ll always be honest with each other. Even if it means bruising feelings sometimes.”
“Wait.” He grinned and pointed at her. “So, you’re agreeing to marry me?”
“I’ve agreed to no such thing.” S
he rose from her chair and began to measure out cups of flour into the bowl she’d just used to make the noodles. It would do just fine for the dumplings for the schnitz un kepp. She avoided eye contact with him to keep from giggling with happiness.
“But you just said you would be fine with us living here together as man and wife for a year.”
“I said,” she told him, dumping the fourth cup of flour into the bowl. “That if we married, I thought it would be acceptable. Could you pass me the baking powder?” She pointed at the red can on the table in front of him.
He picked it up but pulled it out of her reach when she tried to take it from him. “Tell me you’ll marry me and I’ll make the dumplings for you.”
“You will do no such thing,” she teased. “I can’t imagine what your—”
“Mammi!” John-John called from the floor. “My finger!” He jumped up, holding out his index finger for her to see. “Katz licked my finger!”
Phoebe looked at her son, then at Joshua, and then they were all laughing.
* * *
Phoebe stood in the doorway of Rosemary’s eldest daughter’s kitchen and watched John-John jog down the hall in a herd of toddlers. He quacked as he dragged behind himself a wooden duck on the end of a corn string. His newfound friends joined him in a cacophony of barnyard animal sounds. One was pulling a wooden dog, another a cow. There was barking and meowing and mooing, and interestingly enough, the sound of a solitary elephant. “John, no running in the house,” she called after him.
When he didn’t respond, she made to go after him, but Lynita, Lovey’s grandmother-in-law, stepped between them. “Let him go. It’s not the first time a boy has run in this house. Won’t be the last, I hope. Boys run. It’s what they do.”