by Jan Drexler
“I didn’t think we needed to on such a pleasant morning.” Bethany’s voice was strained, as if she held back the words she would rather say.
Rose took the small ceramic pitcher from the table and set it on the back of the stove. “I always warm the syrup. It makes the hotcakes taste so much better.”
Andrew helped Mari climb onto her stool, then took his seat as Bethany poured a cup of coffee for him. Rose joined them at the table and bent her head for the silent prayer. He gave Bethany a reassuring smile, then bowed his head. He was tempted to extend the prayer time past the usual couple of minutes, but he knew he couldn’t avoid Rose’s morning review of the day’s events that way. She started as soon as he raised his head.
“I brought some fabric from home to make Mari’s new dress,” Rose began as Andrew reached for the hotcakes. “The one she has been wearing is looking a bit ragged.”
Andrew glanced at Bethany. She stared at her plate, her bottom lip between her teeth. The dress Mari was wearing was the one Bethany had made for her when they had first arrived.
“Mari’s dress is fine. I like it.” Andrew spread butter on the hotcakes. “Bethany made it for her.”
Rose sniffed. “I guess it will be all right for everyday. The new one can be her Sunday dress. I brought some pink fabric for her. Little girls always look best in pink.” She smiled at Mari. “Eat your eggs, little one. They will make you strong.”
Bethany wasn’t eating. She fetched the syrup from the stove for Andrew, then poured a bit of cream in her coffee and stirred it.
“What are your plans today, Bethany?” Andrew smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood. He wouldn’t let Rose spoil his breakfast.
“It’s Thursday, so I’ll clean the bedrooms upstairs and the hallway.”
Rose fluttered her hand, as if to wave away Bethany’s words. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll clean the upstairs for you.”
Bethany gave Andrew a panicked look.
“I thought you were going to make the new dress for Mari.” Sometimes all he could do was provide a fence between the two women. How did they manage when he wasn’t in the house?
“That’s right.” Rose frowned slightly. “And there’s churning to be done, isn’t there?”
“With the cow giving so much milk right now, we need to make as much butter as we can. The store in Shipshewana will take the butter in trade.” Bethany sipped at her coffee.
Rose sighed. “Those stairs are hard on my knees, anyway. I don’t know why they made them so steep.”
Andrew glanced at the stairway at the other end of the kitchen. It rose in a narrow enclosure and could be difficult for someone of Rose’s girth. “My great-grandfather built that stairway. Daed always said the folks must have been smaller back then.”
“So then, you can clean the upstairs, Bethany, and I’ll stay down here with Mari.”
As Andrew washed down his breakfast with his last swallow of coffee, Bethany nudged his leg with her foot. When he looked at her, she tilted her head toward the door. Rose was wiping Mari’s face and hands with a cloth, not paying attention to them.
“Rose, Bethany is going to show me what she wants done in the henhouse.”
“I’ll be back in to clean up breakfast,” Bethany said, starting toward the door. “I won’t be long.”
Andrew shoved his feet in his boots, grabbed his hat and hurried after Bethany.
“Wait a minute. Let me get my boots on.”
She didn’t stop until she reached the back of the empty henhouse, then she turned on him, eyes blazing. “I don’t understand why you do that.”
“Do what?”
“You let Rose have her own way every time.”
Andrew picked at a piece of splintered wood on the henhouse wall. She was right. “Not every time.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t offer to rebuild the stairway to make it easier for her to get up there.”
“Rose is difficult to deal with.”
Bethany stepped closer to him. “Do you think I don’t know that? I have to work with her every day. We’re trapped together in that house.”
“I thought you liked our house. You always said how much you loved it when we were younger.”
She shifted her gaze to the fallow fields needing to be plowed and the view of the prairie beyond. “I did. I still do. I love the kitchen with the Dutch door looking out on the barnyard. I would just rather not have to share it with Rose. I don’t feel like it’s our house, it’s Rose’s. While you’re working, she is always telling me I do the housework wrong, or I talk to Mari the wrong way.”
“She needs something to do outside the house.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Is there a quilting soon? Don’t the ladies meet every week?”
Bethany shook her head. “Only in the winter. There’s too much work in the summer to spend time socializing.”
“She can paint the henhouse. I’ll mix up the whitewash this morning.”
“Are you sure Rose won’t think I can’t do it because of my condition?” Bethany’s voice held a tinge of sarcasm that Andrew had never heard her use before.
“What condition?”
She leaned against the henhouse wall, her arms crossed in front of her, and gave him a sideways look. “You haven’t heard the rumors?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard some of the women talking the day of the wedding. Rose and some of the others seem to believe that we married so quickly because I’m expecting a little one.”
“Where did that idea come from?” Then Andrew’s knees grew weak. Dave had said there might be someone else. “You aren’t, are you?”
She snorted her answer. “Of course not. You should know me better than that.”
He shrugged. “Things happen. And I haven’t seen you for four years.”
“I know how things happen. People get married and have children, but not me.”
She kicked at a tuft of grass, and a memory swept over Andrew of Bethany doing the same thing when Jonah had sold a colt she had wanted to keep when she was a girl. She must have been only twelve that day, but she had been hurt that her father hadn’t understood her and her love for the young horse she had raised and trained. Instead, she had poured out her feelings to him, her best friend.
“Bethany.” Andrew lifted a hand to caress her arm. To bring her close. To tell her he understood what she was going through. But he let it fall to his side. The barriers she put up warded him off. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll come up with a solution.”
“When?” Her eyes blazed again, challenging him. “She acts like she’s settling in very well. I’m not sure she plans to go back to Iowa. Not as long as Mari is here.”
He met her challenge with his own glare. “Mari is staying here. There is no question about that.”
“Then you need to ask Rose when she’s going to leave. She is doing everything she can to make this situation unbearable, and you need to stop her.”
Bethany didn’t wait for his answer but stalked around the corner of the chicken coop toward the house.
Andrew pulled off his hat and wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. She was right. He needed to confront Rose and tell her to stop interfering in their marriage. He had spent the last four years trying to avoid speaking to her so directly, but he had to do it soon. Otherwise there would be no living with Bethany.
* * *
When Bethany reached the house, she stopped outside the kitchen door. The top half of the Dutch door was open to let in the breeze, and she could hear Rose talking to Mari.
“No cream pie for you, dear. You just finished your breakfast.”
Bethany put her hand on the latch, then another voice said, “Our Bethany is a wonderful cook, but this pie rivals even hers.”
Daed?
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Ja, for sure, Daed sat at the table, a slice of the sugar cream pie Rose had made for supper last night in front of him, along with a cup of coffee. His fork was poised to cut into the half-eaten wedge.
“What are you doing here, Daed?”
“I came to visit my daughter and her family.” Daed took a bite of his treat, smiling. “And Rose offered me a piece of this delicious pie. I didn’t realize she was such a good cook.”
Bethany’s anger, cooled by her walk from the henhouse, rose up again. How could Rose be so pleasant to Daed, and so infuriating to her?
“Jonah was just telling me about a nice picnic spot by a lake.” Rose smiled at Bethany. “He thought our families could go there on Sunday.”
“You must mean Emma Lake.” Bethany hadn’t been there for a picnic since before Mamm passed away.
“That’s right,” Daed said. “You and Rose can fix a lunch for us, and the boys and I will bring everything else we need.”
Bethany laughed, in spite of her unsettled feelings. “What else is there to bring?”
“Our appetites.” And then Daed winked at Rose and leaned over to tickle Mari. “And now I best be getting back to work. Is Andrew in the barn?”
“Either there or at the henhouse.” Bethany gathered Daed’s plate and fork to add to the pile of breakfast dishes by the sink. “He wants to get the coop ready for new chickens this week.”
“Good idea.” Daed headed toward the door, but then turned back. “That was a good piece of pie, Rose. Denki.”
“You’re welcome, Jonah.”
When Bethany went to the stove to get hot water for the dishes, she noticed that Rose’s face was as red as if she had been in the sun. “Are you too warm, Rose? You might want to go in the other room to work if you are.”
Rose fanned herself with her hand. “You’re right. It will be cooler in the front room. I’ll take Mari with me and she can play while I sew.”
While Bethany washed the dishes, she considered the wink she had seen. Daed was only being friendly, wasn’t he? Perhaps she had been mistaken, and Daed’s wink was for Mari rather than Rose. Of course, that was it. He had no reason to wink at Rose.
From the front room, she heard Mari say, “I like my blue dress.”
“Pink is a better color for you. Your mamm always wore pink when she was a girl.”
“She wears blue, now.”
Bethany glanced down at her deep blue everyday dress. Was Mari talking about her, or Lily?
“I don’t know what your mamm wears now. She’s in the Blessed Land, and no one knows what they wear.”
“Not that mamm. My new mamm. In the kitchen.”
“Bethany isn’t your real mother.” Rose’s voice dropped, but Bethany still heard as plain as day. “You need to remember that. She isn’t your real mother.”
Bethany grasped the pump handle and thrust it up and down until cold water gushed into the sink, the noise drowning out Rose’s voice. How much longer could she take this? Andrew would have to talk to Rose soon.
When the noise of the running water faded, Bethany hummed a tune to block out Rose’s voice as she dried the dishes and put them away. Still humming, she got the dust mop and cloth from their spot behind the door and ran up the stairs. Rose’s words wouldn’t follow her there.
She cleaned her own room first, dusting the furniture and under the bed. She put clean sheets on the bed and tucked in the blanket. Then she finished with the ceiling corners and the tops of the door and window frames. Before moving on to Mari’s room, she glanced out the low window that overlooked the barnyard. The chicken coop was the closest building, then the barn beyond it, built into the slope of the hill. On the other side of the chicken coop was the garden, overgrown with lilies.
Halfway between the garden and the woodlot was the springhouse. It was built from round stones gleaned from the fields. Andrew had told her once that the first Yoder to settle this land almost a hundred years ago had built it for his wife, but Bethany was wary of going there now. Andrew hadn’t cleaned it out since he’d moved home, and there were sure to be rats and other things living in the damp, cool darkness.
She liked to see it from her window, though, and think about the first Yoder bride who had lived in this house. Had her life been happy? It must have been. From what Andrew said, his great-grandparents had loved each other very much, and had married soon after their families arrived in Indiana from their homes in Pennsylvania.
Moving on to Mari’s room, Bethany dusted and remade the bed, adding the soiled sheets to the laundry basket in her room. She made sure Mari’s special rag doll was on her pillow in the right spot. Mari’s window looked toward the woodlot and birdsong drifted into the room. It was a pleasant room for a little girl to grow up in. Bethany leaned her head against the window frame with a sigh, thinking of Rose’s comment. Mari liked her. She might even love her. But would she ever think of her as her real mother? Not with Rose filling her mind with the opposite thoughts.
Back in the hall, Bethany peeked into Andrew’s room. His door was open, revealing his good shoes neatly placed below the clothes pegs that held his Sunday suit. She made quick work of dusting but didn’t touch his bed. Rose was suspicious enough, and if she saw that sheets for three beds were in the laundry on Monday morning, then she would know something was amiss. Bethany would change Andrew’s sheets next week instead of her own. After that? Perhaps after that Rose would be gone.
Next, Bethany dusted the walls and ceiling of the hallway, then the floor, before she moved to the staircase. As she went down the steps, dusting them one by one, she wondered about the secret she and Andrew were keeping from Rose. It was wrong to lie, but was keeping a secret the same as lying? It wasn’t any of Rose’s concern whether she and Andrew shared a room or not, and soon she would go back to Iowa, where she belonged. That thought was nearly as satisfying as getting rid of the dust and dirt that had collected on the narrow steps.
Bethany checked the clock as she finished the stairway. She still had some time before she needed to start dinner. Stepping into the front room, she found Rose in the rocking chair with her feet propped on the footstool. Pink fabric covered her lap and she took quick, neat stitches while Mari played with a set of blocks on the floor.
“Mari, do you want to come with me to visit Dinah?”
Rose stared at her. “In the barn?”
“For sure. I need to fetch the milk from this morning, and Mari can come with me.”
Mari jumped to her feet, then shrank back when she saw Rose’s frown. Bethany pressed her lips together at the sight. Mari shouldn’t be afraid of her own grandmother.
“Come, Mari.” Bethany kneeled on the floor. “I’ll help you put the blocks away, and then you can come with me.”
Mari glanced at Rose again, but obeyed as Rose sewed silently, rocking the chair forward and back. Bethany took Mari’s hand in hers and they went out into the yard. Bethany pushed away any thoughts of Rose as they walked through the grass, bright yellow and green with dandelion blossoms. Mari stopped to pick some, and Bethany helped her until Mari’s fist was filled with dandelion stems.
“Pretty flowers.” Mari buried her nose in the blossoms then grinned at Bethany, yellow pollen covering her chin.
“Very pretty. Do you want to take them to Dinah for a treat?”
Mari’s eyes grew wide. “She eats flowers?”
“We can see if she likes them.”
As Mari ran ahead to the fence at the edge of the pasture, Bethany’s spirits rose. This was a good life, in spite of Rose, and in spite of Andrew’s stubborn ways. She had her own home, even if she had to share it with Rose for now, and a sweet little girl to care for.
Mari climbed up the first two boards of the fence like a ladder and reached over the top. “Dinah, come get flowers.”
She waved the flowers in the air as Dinah lifted he
r head from grazing and started walking toward her. By the time Bethany reached the fence, Mari was bouncing up and down with excitement. Bethany caught her and held her still as Dinah pulled the flowers out of Mari’s hand with her long tongue and chewed, watching them.
“Her eyes are big,” Mari said. “And her eye hairs are so long.”
Bethany laughed. “Her eyelashes are long.” She couldn’t help correcting Mari, but from now on she would always think of eyelashes as eye hairs.
Everything that had happened over the last two weeks, the hasty marriage to Andrew and putting up with Rose’s demanding ways, was nothing compared to the joy of being with this little girl.
Then Mari turned, looking into Bethany’s eyes. “Mammi Rose said you aren’t my real mamm.”
Bethany’s voice caught in her throat—she didn’t know how to respond to Mari. The instructions she had overheard Rose give to Mari echoed in her mind, but Rose was wrong.
“I’m your new mamm.” She caressed the little girl’s soft cheek with her fingertip. “You had another mamm, and you will never forget her. But I am your mamm now.”
Mari nodded, her curls bouncing. “I know. I feel it here.” She patted her chest. “But Mammi Rose said you weren’t.”
“Sometimes, grown-ups are wrong. But that’s all right. You and I know the truth, don’t we?”
As Mari leaned toward her, Bethany gathered in her arms and held her tight.
“You are my Mamma Bethany,” Mari said, clinging to her.
Bethany buried her face in the curly hair. “And you are my Mari.”
“Daed! I fed Dinah the flowers!”
The sound of Mari’s voice sent a ripple of panic through Andrew. He ran from the horse’s stall to where Mari stood in the bright sunshine that fell through the open barn door, gazing into the high rafters. How soon would it be before she tried to climb up there?
“What are you doing out here?” He dropped to one knee and caught her in his arms. “Does Bethany know you’re here?”