by Sarah Price
At that comment, even Catherine had to laugh. “Oh, Henry! What would you know about fabrics anyway?”
“Why, Catherine! I happen to know quite a bit about fabrics!” he said, placing his hand upon his chest, feigning offense at her comment. “There is polyester fabric. All of the fabric stores carry that, of course. But some of the less conservative areas tend to include new polyester blend fabrics, some with patterns that, to the untrained eye, are rather hard to see. Take, for instance, Ellie’s dress.”
Catherine suppressed another laugh as she glanced at her friend.
“That, my Catherine, comes from Newbury Acres, where fabrics are a bit more expensive but tend to wear well, the color not fading even after multiple washings and line drying!”
Ellie rolled her eyes but in a good-natured way.
“And my dress?” Catherine asked, lifting the skirt just a bit as if to show it off.
“Ah, ja! Your dress. Well, it is rather pretty, isn’t it?” Henry said with an approving look in his eye. “But I’m afraid that you have selected a fabric that will fray if proper care is not taken.”
“You are …,” she laughed, unable to complete the sentence.
“… a wealth of useful information!” he said, completing it for her. “And ask me about dairy cows. I will be certain to entertain you for hours on end about how to increase milk production and avoid mastitis on their teats!”
“For a dairy farmer, that is rather useful,” Ellie pointed out.
Catherine frowned. “Is that what you will do? Dairy farm?”
Henry reached for a dried tree branch and snapped it so that he could chuck it down the embankment into the water. “Ja, dairy farm.” He glanced at her. “Have you never heard of Newbury Acres, then?”
She shook her head.
“Daed inherited two farms, one from his own father and one from our grossdawdi on our maem’s side: the Woods farm. She had no bruders to pass the farm to, you see.”
“Your parents grew up neighbors?”
Henry nodded, snapping another branch as he walked.
“How romantic!” she sighed.
Henry made a noise in his throat but did not comment further. “One of the farms was for dairy cows and hay while the other just for hay. That was Maem’s family farm. About ten years back, Daed built the wood shop. My bruder Freddie works there and will inherit that.”
It dawned on Catherine that the Tilmans must have access to a lot of resources. It was a rare Amish family that could provide two large, working farms to more than one son. Her parents were not in that same situation, especially since they had eight children and a small working farm at that! And with her father being a preacher, he barely had enough time to eat and sleep, never mind grow his farm in such a way that it could provide for more than one son.
But dairy farming was hard work. Cows needed to be milked twice a day, like clockwork. Vacations were few and far between, since leaving the dairy barn meant that hired help must be brought in.
And that raised a question in Catherine’s head: if he was a dairy farmer, how on earth was Henry here, in Banthe, enjoying time away from the farm?
“I see that quizzical look upon your brow,” Henry teased. “You’re wondering how it is that I’m here if I have cows to tend.”
“The thought did cross my mind,” she admitted.
“Newbury Acres is not your typical farm, Catherine. It is much larger than others and provides plenty of opportunities for other Amish men to farm for pay.” He paused, glancing at the lake for a long moment. He seemed deep in thought, and both women waited for him to speak again. “Our daed has very conservative views, Catherine. He does not believe that Amish men should work among the Englische. So he has created a farming co-op, if you will. This way, rather than one family working so very hard to make ends meet on a smaller farm, he has two very large farms, and other Amish men farm it together.”
“How clever!”
She almost wished that her family lived near such a community. As it was now, their own small farm was surrounded by several modest Englische homes and non-Amish farmers. Both of her parents were increasingly concerned about the future of their children. Only one of their sons would inherit the farm, most likely one of the younger ones. And the property was not large enough to house more than one other house and possibly a shop for trade. What would then become of the other children? The daughters would be married off, but to whom? And the sons would have to find a trade to work in the hopes that, one day, they might have enough money to purchase their own farm. However, with the ever-increasing cost of land, so much time might pass before enough money was saved that they might no longer wish to farm at all.
Henry nodded his head. “I suppose it is clever,” he admitted, his voice drawn out as he spoke those words. “However, he has very high expectations of those workers … and for his own children.”
She thought she noticed a slight shift in his voice when he added that last part to his sentence. “How is that?” she asked.
Ellie reached out and touched Henry’s arm. She gave him a pleading look as she said, “Let’s talk about other subjects, shall we?”
It was clear that the subject matter was tender at its core, and, while curious, Catherine did not wish to pursue a topic that, for some odd reason, appeared sensitive to both brother and sister.
Half an hour later, they rounded a bend in the path and there was a small bench. Ellie sat down to remove a pebble from her shoe and told Henry to keep walking; she’d catch up to them in a few minutes.
Alone at last, Catherine felt rather grown-up walking with Henry. Even though he was taller than she was, he maintained a steady pace beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared into the trees, pointing out different birds and pausing when he spotted a deer in the woods ahead, pointing it out to Catherine.
“They’re such beautiful animals,” he said. “I never was one who liked hunting, not like my bruder and daed.”
She was surprised by his statement. Her own brothers loved to hunt for deer and pheasants. She, however, felt the same way as Henry. “I always thought that all men liked to hunt.”
Henry laughed and nudged her with his arm. “Not all men are alike, Catherine. We aren’t any more cookie-cutter people than women are.”
She blushed at her naive statement and averted her eyes.
She hadn’t thought of it in that way. However, she certainly recognized that Henry was completely different than John Troyer or even her brother James. They were more like the typical Amish men that she avoided on the rare occasion she attended the youth social gatherings.
As if reading her mind, Henry bent forward so that he was on eye level with her. “For instance, had you truly thought I was so like John Troyer?”
“Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “You are nothing alike.”
“Uh-huh,” he said with satisfaction.
“I suppose you know him well,” she said. “He seemed to know an awful lot about your family, anyway.”
Henry gave a small laugh. “And let me guess … I’m sure my rival was not charitable.”
Catherine stopped short. “He is not …”
Henry gave her a smile.
“You’re teasing me!”
They continued walking.
“I have found that people who gossip about the affairs of others are usually small-minded, and often their news is unkind or inaccurate, to say the least,” Henry said.
“I know he doesn’t always tell the truth,” Catherine retorted quickly. “But he’s been kind and attentive to me.”
Raising his eyebrows, Henry gave her a taunting look.
“What? Do you think he’s not trustworthy?” she asked in surprise. While she certainly thought that very thing about John Troyer, she had not realized that her opinion might be generally shared by others!
He chuckled and smiled once more. “I think,” Henry said, returning his gaze to the path ahead of them, “that you should realize that I’m not th
e best person to consult with regarding matters involving you and John Troyer.”
For some reason, it took Ellie quite a while to catch up with Henry and Catherine. During that time, Henry asked Catherine questions about her family and their farm. She wasn’t used to having so much attention drawn to herself and felt flustered at first. Gradually, however, she started to feel more comfortable, especially when Henry replied to her comments with genuine interest.
“Henry!” Ellie called.
They both stopped and turned around, Catherine feeling a slight pressure on her elbow. She glanced down and realized that Henry’s hand gently held her arm. His touch made her skin tingle and she felt almost giddy with joy. Was it possible, she wondered, that Henry was as interested in her as she was in him?
Ellie hurried along the trail, smiling at the two of them. “We really should get going, don’t you think? We don’t want to be late for dinner with Daed.”
It dawned on Catherine that, if Ellie was with them, who would be preparing the dinner meal? She wanted to ask but sensed an urgency in their steps as they began to walk back in the direction from which they had come. What was it, she wondered, that made everyone seem so nervous about Gid Tilman? Rather than voice the question, she decided that she would most likely find out on her own as she would be in his presence for at least an hour, if not more, that very afternoon.
Chapter 12
She sat with her hands folded on her lap, her back far too straight and her eyes staring at a spot on the floor before her. Dinner at the Tilmans’ house, while an honor, had not been a pleasant experience. She couldn’t wait until she heard the clock chime twice so that she could make her excuses and leave.
When they had arrived, Gid Tilman had been standing in the doorway of their small cottage. It sat on a hill that overlooked the lake. He scowled at them, for they had taken longer to walk home than they anticipated. Once inside, Catherine’s eyes wandered to the table where four places were set. Bowls and platters of room-temperature food were set out already, and she realized that he had been waiting for them.
Five minutes later, the four of them sat at the kitchen table, Catherine seated next to Ellie and diagonally across from Henry. She was thankful that she sat the farthest away from Gid, who ate without speaking to anyone at the table. In fact, the entire meal was eaten in silence, just one more reason that Catherine couldn’t wait until she could leave.
Even after the meal was over, Catherine found herself the object of Gid’s scrutiny. While she stood beside Ellie as they washed the dishes, Catherine found a moment of respite—Gid’s attention being distracted as he engaged in conversation with Henry—to lean over and whisper, “Is your daed always so …” She couldn’t finish the question, for she feared offending Ellie.
“Stern? Opinionated? Controlling?” Ellie gave a soft laugh. “Ja, he is. And more so since our mamm passed away.”
Catherine risked a look at Gid. “He must miss her terribly.”
“He mourned, ja.”
“Henry told me that your parents practically grew up together. With three children to raise, he must have felt her loss twice as much, don’t you think?”
But Ellie merely shook her head. “I gave up thinking about such things a long time ago, Catherine. Life is not exactly the same as those romance novels that you like so much.”
Confused by Ellie’s words, Catherine tried to concentrate on drying the plates. The oppressive nature of the Tilman’s house was more than she could bear.
Now Ellie sat quietly in a rocking chair, her head bent over the pillowcase she was embroidering while Gid sat across from Catherine. She felt small and insignificant on the sofa and wished that Henry had not left so soon after the meal. All during the meal, Ellie seemed withdrawn and aloof, not unpleasant but not forthcoming in the kindness that Catherine had felt during their morning walk.
“You are enjoying Banthe, ja?” Gid asked her as he rocked gently in the large recliner.
“Ja, it’s very nice here,” she replied, glancing around as if her desire for Henry’s return would make him magically appear.
“I find that it is refreshing to get away from Newbury Acres from time to time.” Gid tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair as he studied her. “But business must continue, and therefore, we will be returning Saturday.”
Catherine swallowed, feeling more than uncomfortable under his hard but steady stare.
“When are you to return then?” he asked her.
“Whenever the Andersons return, I reckon. They talked about leaving next week Monday. They had told my parents we’d be gone for a little over two weeks.”
Gid made a noise in his throat.
Glancing at Ellie, Catherine wished that her friend would say something. Anything! She began to feel as if she were being interviewed by Gid Tilman, and she did not like that feeling one bit.
“Your parents. They farm, ja?”
Catherine returned her attention to Gid. “Ja, they do.”
“You must have many siblings to be able to leave without impacting the workload.” It was stated as a question, and Catherine realized by the way he watched her that he anticipated a response.
“I have seven siblings, one of whom is here in Banthe, but he is staying with the Troyers,” she admitted.
“Seven!” Gid slapped his hand against the chair. “Plus you? Why, that’s eight children!”
She didn’t feel as if her comment warranted such a reaction.
“How on earth does your father expect all of those children to earn a living?” He scowled and shook his head, clearly irritated by this news that she had shared with him.
“I’m sure he will leave the farm to one of my bruders,” she said softly.
“And the others? What will they do?”
Stunned by his line of questioning, she glanced once again at Ellie, who was watching their exchange with furtive eyes. When Catherine realized that Gid was waiting for her to respond, she turned back toward him. “I imagine Richard and John will take up a trade,” she managed to say.
Again, Gid slapped the arm of his chair, his face contorted in a fit of rage. “Exactly! And that is the problem! It’s farming that holds the Amish communities together, I tell you.”
Catherine felt an unexpected tension fill the room. A glance at Ellie brought her no comfort or sense of escape as Gid continued ranting.
“All of these large families. They do a disservice to our community if they cannot provide enough land to keep their children and grandchildren working the land. We must remain stewards of the earth and not slaves to the Englische!”
“I was under the impression that you have your own trade business,” she heard herself say. She thought she saw Ellie stiffen her back and immediately knew that she should have kept her comment to herself.
Gid stopped rocking. “Indeed, I do. It would seem to be a conflict of interest if it were not responsible for paying the salaries of almost twenty Amish men in our community who would otherwise be employed by the Englische.”
Catherine heard footsteps at the door and stared in the direction of the entrance to the kitchen. While Gid continued to ramble, Catherine silently willed Henry to enter the house.
“You are most fortunate, Catherine, that the Andersons have taken you under their wing, to have access to their land.”
“Excuse me?” she said when she heard Gid’s last comment.
The kitchen door opened and Henry entered the room. Immediately distracted, it was all that Catherine could do to contain herself. She wanted to jump to her feet and greet Henry with a broad smile. If he had been gone thirty minutes, it felt as if it were more than an hour. But the look of irritation on his father’s face helped her remain seated.
“And where have you been?” Gid snapped at Henry.
Henry hung up his straw hat and lowered his head demurely. “My apologies, Daed. I told you that I wanted to run into town to fetch the newspaper.”
His father glanced at the clock in an e
xaggerated motion to indicate that he felt his son had taken too long to return.
“I was delayed by Benjamin Esh. There was a message to give to you.”
“And what’s that?”
“Freddie will be arriving later this week.”
The message did nothing to soften Gid’s expression. “Then we must begin preparations to return to Newbury Acres. We cannot all be gone at the same time for long.”
Catherine felt as if her heart fell at their father’s words. She had known that the Tilmans would be leaving at some point, but she had hoped that it would be after she had returned to Fullerton. The thought of staying at Banthe without Henry and Ellie Tilman depressed her even though she felt intimidated by their father.
As she walked down the road that led from their cottage toward town, she breathed a sigh of relief. Such strange people, she thought. There were no smiles or laughter all afternoon. Even Henry had remained quiet and withdrawn during the visit, his only sign of interest that he stole a quick peek at her when his father was looking the other way.
“Catherine!”
She stopped and turned around at the sound of Ida Mae’s voice, and Ida Mae smiled and waved at her to wait. “What are you doing out here?” Catherine asked as her friend caught up with her. They had not spoken to each other since Ida Mae’s sharp criticism yesterday afternoon, and Catherine wondered that Ida Mae would even approach her, much less be all smiles and waves.
“I wanted to find out how your visit with the Tilmans went,” Ida Mae said, still smiling.
Confused, Catherine stared at Ida Mae. How did she know that Catherine had visited with the Tilmans? Besides, was this smiling, happy, and concerned person the same one who had stormed away, angry and hurt because Catherine wouldn’t go riding in an open buggy? “That’s very kind, Ida Mae, but I thought you were angry with me.” It was more of a question than a statement.
“Oh, that?” Ida Mae laughed and waved at the air in a dismissive manner. “Don’t be silly, Catherine. I was just upset for a moment. Disappointed, really. Besides, everything worked out. My cousin went with us so no one was left behind. All’s well that ends well, ja?” Another little laugh and her eyes lit up. “So, tell me about your visit at the Tilmans! I ran into Wilma in town, and she told me you were having dinner there. I’m simply dying to hear what happened!”