Portrait of a Sister

by Laura Bradford

  Bedtime, though, was still hard. Without the steady stream of chores to occupy her mind and hands, and the comradery of her dat and siblings to keep her mood light, there wasn’t anything else to do but think. And think she did . . .

  About Mamm.

  About Dat.

  About marriage.

  About Abram.

  About Hannah . . .

  She’d looked at the photograph of Hannah so many times Katie had actually based a drawing on it in her sketchbook. The buildings in the background had taken some work to get just right. With the help of her eraser and a few sleepless nights, she’d finally done so. The bridge on which Hannah had stood presented a new set of challenges, but that, too, she’d gotten. All that was left now was adding Hannah and the bouquet of flowers in her hands . . .

  “Katie! Katie! Come quick! Miss Lottie says you got one, too!”

  Katie set the pie on the windowsill to cool and turned toward the hallway and the little girl happily bouncing up and down on feet that were in desperate need of soap and water. “Sadie Beiler, what have I told you about yelling like that in the house?”

  The feet stopped bouncing. “That I might wake Annie from her nap?”

  Katie grabbed the dishcloth from its holding spot around the oven handle and wiped her hands. “That’s right. So why are you yelling?”

  “Annie is outside,” Sadie said amid a renewed round of bouncing. “Miss Lottie is reading Annie’s now and she says you should come get yours.”

  “Get my what?” Katie shut off the oven, replaced the dish cloth, and then turned back to Sadie, waiting.

  “Your letter!” Clamping a tiny hand over her mouth, Sadie’s eyes dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry I yelled again, Katie. But”—Sadie looked up again—“she sent me a sticker of a dog!”

  “A sticker? How exciting!” Katie stepped toward her little sister only to stop as her thoughts finally caught up with her ears. “Wait. Who sent you a sticker?”

  “Hannah!” And then Sadie was gone, her feet making soft padding sounds against the floor as she ran back outside and onto the front porch.

  Katie followed to find Miss Lottie sitting on the top step of the porch with Annie on one thigh and a pile of letters on the other.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Lottie, I didn’t know you were here . . .”

  The gray-haired woman handed Annie what appeared to be a cat sticker and then, when the toddler ran off to show Sadie, flashed a mischievous smile over her shoulder at Katie. “You were my next stop, dear.”

  Katie pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch, her gaze riveted on the trio of envelopes she could see from her vantage point. “Are those really letters from Hannah?”

  “They are, indeed. Saw the mailman on my way up the drive not more than ten minutes ago.” Miss Lottie picked up the remaining letters and gave them a little shake. “Mary is out by the clothesline reading hers, Jakob took his into the barn, and I read Annie’s and Sadie’s to them.”

  “Anything important?” she asked as her gaze strayed back toward the untouched pile on Miss Lottie’s thigh.

  “Just that she misses them and loves them and thought they’d each like a sticker.”

  A pair of happy squeals from the vicinity of the garden made Katie laugh. “I believe Hannah was right about that.” Then, hooking her thumb toward the door, she turned her smile on Miss Lottie. “I just made an apple pie. Would you like a piece?”

  “As much as I’d like to say yes, I shouldn’t. I’m meeting a friend for dinner this evening and it wouldn’t be polite to show up with a full stomach.” Miss Lottie thumbed through the remaining letters in her hand and held the last one out to Katie. “Why don’t you take a little time with Hannah, and I’ll look after things here until you return. You’ve earned it.”

  Katie looked from the letter to Miss Lottie and back again; the pull to snatch the envelope and run much stronger than it should be. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t. I’m offering.”

  The pull was getting stronger. But still, if she did as her mind wanted, it would be rude. “Really, I can read it later, when the chores are done,” she murmured. “Or . . . or later tonight, after everyone has gone to sleep.”

  “You could. But why should the wee ones have all the fun?”

  “I’m older, I can—”

  “Don’t argue with your elders, child.” Miss Lottie shoved the letter into Katie’s hand and then jerked her chin toward the land east of the barn. “The pond would be a lovely place to spend a little time with your sister, don’t you think?”

  * * *

  The second Katie came around the bend near Miller’s Pond, the memories she’d been trying so hard to avoid rushed at her with such intensity she stumbled back a step or two. Suddenly, she was Sadie’s age all over again and Mamm was leading the way with a sleeping Samuel in her arms. Hannah walked next to Katie, pointing out the trees she wanted to climb, the rocks she wanted to jump off, and the places she wanted to hide should Mamm agree to a game of hide and seek. And Katie, well, she shrank further into herself with every plan Hannah made, terrified that Hannah might not only do those things but also make Katie do them, too.

  She closed her eyes against the avalanche of memories that followed—memories that had Katie dipping her toes in the pond while Hannah swam to the other side, Katie sitting with folded hands in her lap while Hannah hopped on one foot along a fallen tree trunk, Hannah dangling upside down from a tree limb while Katie covered her eyes on the ground below, and on and on it went. Day after day. Year after year.

  Hannah the brave.

  Katie the scaredy—

  The persistent buzzing of a bumblebee in the vicinity of her left ear broke through her pity party and prodded her forward, her mind’s eye making short work of the many differences between the Miller’s Pond of her youth and the Miller’s Pond of today. To her left, along the north side of the pond, the grassy area that had long ago served as the perfect place to play leapfrog now boasted a series of picnic tables and park benches deemed a necessity by Blue Ball’s ever increasing English population. Up ahead and to the right, where she’d spent many a summer day wading up to her knees with her younger siblings, a sign now stood warning visitors to swim at their own risk.

  Tightening her grip on the letter, Katie picked her way across a smattering of downed limbs bordering the southwestern edge of the pond. When she reached her destination, she lowered herself to the grass, settled her back against her favorite stump, and opened the letter.

  Dearest Katie,

  By now, I’m hoping you are no longer angry at me for taking those two drawings. I know I should have asked, but I also know you would have said no. Travis said that should have been reason enough not to take them, but I do not agree.

  “You should,” she murmured. “Because Travis is right.”

  I would like to be able to say I took them to hang on the wall in my apartment but that would not be true.

  Katie sat up tall, her back parting company with the stump.

  I took them because they are good, because they shouldn’t be hidden in a book underneath your bed. You have talent, Katie. Real talent. And Mr. Rothman agrees.

  “Mr. Rothman? Who is Mr. Roth—”

  Mr. Rothman, the man I work for, owns a very big art gallery in New York City. It is this wonderful place covered with the kind of artwork that people pay money to see and to own.

  The buzzing was back, only this time Katie didn’t care whether she got stung or not. All that mattered at that moment was Hannah’s letter and the break it gave Katie from her own reality for a little while.

  I showed Mr. Rothman the pictures you drew and he says you have great talent. That your pictures will make much money one day.

  You need to come here, Katie. You need to come here with your sketch pad and show Mr. Rothman all the pictures you have drawn. Show him the way you captured the joy on Sadie’s face when Fancy Feet had kittens. Show him t
he fear on Mary’s face when Jakob put that turtle in her lunch pail last year. Show him Annie’s sweet laughter when that baby cow licked her little nose when they first met.

  You need to show him, Katie. You need to show him now.

  It could change your life.

  Your Sister,

  Hannah

  PS I did not tell Dat about your drawings. It might be best if you don’t, either. For now, anyway.

  PPS We are going to have so so so much fun!

  She stared, unseeingly, at the final line of her sister’s letter, her thoughts still fixed on the part about her drawings and Hannah’s boss. Someone thought her drawings were good . . . Someone thought she had talent . . . Someone—

  “Stop it, Hannah!” Closing her hand around the letter, she crushed it into a ball. “My life has changed enough because of you!”

  Chapter 8

  Katie could feel Dat watching her as she moved about the kitchen washing dishes, supervising Sadie’s drying, and readying Annie’s bottle for Mary. Twice, she’d stopped to ask if there was something she could do for him, but his answer both times had come via a shake of his head.

  She tried not to worry, to accept his presence at the table as a sign he was taking a much-needed break after a long day in the fields with Samuel and Jakob, but she knew better. Dat always followed the evening meal with a final check of the barn. Always. Yet there he was, still seated at the table, quietly watching as she put the finishing touches on the day.

  Had she forgotten a part of his meal?

  Had she or one of her sisters missed a chore?

  Had she said something during dinner he didn’t like?

  When the last dish was dried and put away and Annie was back on the ground with a full stomach, Dat shifted on the bench. “Mary, take Annie and Sadie into the front room. I must speak with Katie. Alone.”

  Mary’s eyes widened with surprise, but she did as she was told. Still, as she passed, she pinned Katie with an unspoken question. Katie, in turn, offered the tiniest of shrugs and a hard swallow before turning back to Dat.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked when Mary and the children had disappeared down the hallway and into the room used for church services two or three times a year.

  Dat patted the section of table directly across from where he sat. “Sit, Katie. We must talk.”

  “Did I do something wrong? Was something not right with dinner? Did I say something unkind?”

  Again, he patted the table. And again, he asked her to sit.

  Katie sat.

  “Lottie said you got a letter from Hannah.”

  She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but that wasn’t it. Yet the second he ended the suspense, she found herself right back at the pond with Hannah’s letter clutched in her hands. Only this time, instead of being alone with the enormity of her sister’s words, she was at a table, across from Dat . . .

  “H-Hannah sent letters to-to everyone—Jakob, Samuel, Mary, Sadie, and even little Annie.” Katie stopped, quieted the shakiness in her hands and voice, and then continued, her gaze stopping just shy of Dat’s eyes. “She-she sent one to you, too, Dat. Did Miss Lottie give it to you?”

  Dat captured her gaze with his and held it firmly. “Yah. But it is your letter I would like to speak of.”

  She wanted to look away, to busy herself with some chore she might have left undone, but Dat was waiting. Katie released her lip from between her teeth and found what she hoped was a carefree smile. “Hannah spoke of Fancy Feet . . . and the time that baby calf licked Annie’s nose and startled her!”

  “Did she speak of the city?”

  An uneasiness she couldn’t explain began at the base of her neck and traveled down to her fingers and toes. “The city?” she echoed. “No, not really. She mentioned her boss once but that was it.”

  Which was true.

  To a point.

  “Hannah would like a visit.”

  And just like that, the unease was gone, replaced, instead, by the kind of joy she hadn’t felt in weeks. “Hannah is coming here? To Blue Ball?” Then, as their new reality reared its head, she leaned forward. “She will come alone this time, yah? Just Hannah?”

  “No, Katie. Hannah would like you to visit her. In the city.”

  She stared at her dat, waiting for him to smile, to tell her he was joking, but he didn’t. Instead, he splayed his hands atop the table and waited for her to speak.

  “I can’t go to the city,” she protested. “I’m needed here, with the children.”

  “Mary can look after things for a short time, Katie. Soon, when you are married to Abram, she will take over.”

  Her mouth grew dry, making it difficult to speak. “But that’s not until winter, Dat. There is much time until then.”

  “Winter will be here before you know it.”

  She couldn’t believe Dat was speaking like this, that he actually seemed to be considering Hannah’s request. It made no sense. “Dat, I can’t go to the city. I belong here. With you and the children.”

  “It would not be forever, Katie. It would just be for a few days. Maybe a week.”

  Her head was beginning to spin in a way her hands could not stop. None of this made sense. Not Hannah’s request, not Dat’s reaction, none of it. “You-you want me to go?”

  “At first, I did not. But Lottie said I should think about it, that—”

  She dropped her hands back down so hard the napkin holder in the center of the table jumped a little. “Miss Lottie knows about this?”

  “Hannah sent her a letter, too, asking Lottie to speak with me on her behalf.”

  It was too much to process. Too much to even try. Still, every time she considered getting up from the table, she found that she couldn’t. “If you didn’t want me to go at first, what changed? What did Miss Lottie say to make you change?”

  “She did not make me change, Katie. She made me think.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Hannah is still family. She is still your sister. And like your mamm, I, too, want to see you smile again.”

  “I smile, Dat!” she protested.

  He leaned forward, his gaze intent on hers. “When, Katie? When do you smile?”

  “I-I smiled today . . . when Sadie got so excited about the dog sticker Hannah sent. And I smiled when Annie saw her cat sticker!” Desperate to make her point, she continued the verbal tour of her day, making sure to hit on the moments that had lessened the heaviness in her heart. “I smiled tonight at dinner when Jakob spoke of the frog hopping behind you on the tractor this afternoon. And-and I smiled when Samuel said my apple pie tasted just like Mamm’s!”

  His hand closed over hers for the briefest of moments. “It is just a visit, Katie. That is all. Enjoy it; enjoy your time with Hannah.”

  * * *

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there at the window, looking out over the moonlit fields. A glance at the darkened gap beneath her door told her it had been long enough for Dat to blow out his candle, but beyond that, she could only guess.

  In fact, if it wasn’t for the telltale pinch of the boots she needed to replace, she might actually think she was dreaming. But her boots were pinching . . . And she was standing at the window in the same clothes she’d been wearing when Dat told her she should go to the big city to see Hannah.

  Her—Katie.

  In New York City.

  The background roar that had filled her head through much of her conversation with Dat returned. All her life, she’d only known one place—Blue Ball. Sure, she’d accompanied Dat and Mamm into neighboring towns on occasion for weddings and funerals, but everything had still looked the same. Farms stretched as far as one could see, dats and brothers tended crops, and mamms and sisters hung the wash and picked vegetables from gardens.

  She didn’t need to go to New York City to know it would be different. Hannah’s letters and stories told Katie that. And so, too, did Hannah’s—

  Turning quickly, Kat
ie made her way around the bed, her thoughts jumping to the buildings her pencil had finally captured—buildings that rose up from the earth like glistening giants. When she reached the right spot, she slid her hand between the mattress and the wooden base Dat had made. Sure enough, the roar in her ears gave way to the same accelerated thump in her chest she felt every time she pulled out her sketch pad.

  She knew it was wrong.

  Knew keeping a secret from Dat was wrong.

  Knew drawing graven images was wrong.

  But still, she did it, the pull to record life on paper winning out over her shame, time and time again. Sure, she’d been close to throwing it away on occasion. Several times she’d even gone so far as to wrap it in one of Annie’s baby blankets and sneak it into the buggy when a trip to town was planned. But every time she had, every time she’d actually envisioned throwing it into one of the many garbage cans lined up in the alleyway behind the English stores, the courage everyone around her always seemed to have eluded her once again.

  Lowering herself onto the edge of her bed, she flipped through her drawings until she came to the one she’d yet to complete. Then, bending over, she pulled out the photograph Hannah had given her and set it on her lap beside the sketch; her eyes moving between both before she’d fully removed her hand from page-turning duties.

  She was pleased with the buildings. It had taken some doing to get the angles and the sizes just right, but after many tries, she’d succeeded. The bridge had been trickier, but finally, as the first sign of daylight had made its way around her shade on the third of three sleepless nights, she’d managed to get the curves and the ornamentation just so . . .

  Swinging her focus back to the photograph, Katie studied the face that smiled back at her—a face that, while identical to hers, portrayed something very different. It was that difference that had made her wait to draw Hannah.