by Jo Ann Brown
Bringing the buggy to a stop, he jumped out and went to unhitch Chip. The black horse didn’t mind snow but hated rain.
“Let’s go, boy,” Isaiah said. “It’s nice and dry in the stable.” He glanced at the house. It would be pleasant in there as well, and he wondered what delicious meal Clara had prepared tonight.
He was no cook, but no matter how burned it was, he’d eaten every bite of the meals he’d made for himself when he lived alone in the small house he’d bought after his wedding. He’d counted himself blessed when he was asked to eat with his family or the Beachys. Either Esta or Mamm would have welcomed him every night, but often he’d worked late at his forge and didn’t want to inconvenience anyone. Mamm was a great cook, and Esta had been less skilled, but much better than his fumbling attempts.
Clara, however, was a talented cook. Even something like her potato salad had an unexpected burst of flavor. She’d revealed that she added barbecue sauce and bacon to the usual ingredients.
Suddenly the door burst open. Andrew ran through the rain to fling his arms around Isaiah. “You’re here!” the boy cried.
“Ja, I am, but are you supposed to be outside now?”
Instead of answering, the little boy asked, “Where have you been? Aenti Clara has had supper ready for a long, long time.”
Isaiah flinched. What had Andrew called Clara? Pushing down a sudden rush of dismay, he said, “I’m sorry if you’re hungry.” He ruffled the kind’s wet hair. “Run inside and let her know I’ll be in soon.”
As the little boy raced away, Isaiah stood still. The rain fell around him and bounced off the brim of his hat. Aenti Clara? When had the kinder started calling her that? Had she asked them to?
He took the questions with him into the barn. They repeated in his mind in rhythm with the milker and followed him into the tank room where a diesel engine kept the milk cool until it could be pumped into the truck that collected it every day after he left for work.
One of the cows regarded him as she chewed on the hay in front of her stanchion. Her unblinking gaze seemed to ask him why he was upset. That the twins were comfortable with Clara should make him happy, so why was he questioning it? He hadn’t been bothered when Amos had told him that the Beachy youngsters now called him Onkel Amos.
“They hope they can sweet-talk extra treats out of me,” his brother had said with a laugh. “I don’t know what you would have done if you hadn’t found Clara to corral those youngsters. They’ve got so much energy.”
Isaiah had agreed then, and he still agreed with his brother. So why did having the kids call Clara aenti set him on edge?
He dumped the last of the fresh milk through the filter and leaned one elbow on the stainless-steel milk tank. Looking across the small room, he knew he could keep on trying to ignore the truth, or he could start acknowledging it.
He envied the kinder who had let Clara into their lives. They didn’t worry about what anyone else thought or how calling her aenti might complicate their lives. They accepted her kindnesses and her loving attempts to keep their days moving along without too much drama. She asked nothing of them other than to try to behave. If they didn’t want to laugh, she wouldn’t push them, though she was bothered by the situation. He needed to follow her example.
When Isaiah entered the house, Clara was busy at the stove. He greeted her and quelled his questions. There would be time later. After the twins were in bed. Tonight, somehow, he was going to make the effort to stay awake.
“Where are your glasses, Nettie Mae?” he asked as he sat at the table beside the little girl, who was pouting.
Her lower lip stuck out far beyond her top one, which she had sucked in close to her teeth. She must have been holding the glasses in her lap, because she tossed them on the table. Her siblings glanced at her, then away. They didn’t want to be the target of her frustration.
“Those are cute, Nettie Mae,” he said, as if he was oblivious to her mood.
“Ugly.”
He was startled by her vehemence. Looking over her head to where Clara was placing sliced ham on the other end of the table, he said, “I think your glasses are cute, and I know you’re cute, Nettie Mae. Why don’t you put them on so I can see how cute you look with them?”
“No! Ugly.” The little girl’s nose wrinkled. “I no grossmammi.”
“Not yet, you’re not.”
“Grossmammi wears eyeglasses. Not me.”
Clara glanced at them with concern. She was worried he wasn’t going to change the little girl’s mind with logic. He needed to try something else.
“Can I see them?” he asked.
Nettie Mae slid them across the table to him. When he picked them up, he saw they were simple gold frames. The sides had been extended and curved so they went behind Nettie Mae’s ears instead of on top of them. He guessed that would keep the glasses from flying off an active little girl’s face.
Holding them in front of her, he said, “Please put them on so I can see them.”
She knocked them out of his hand and onto the floor. “No!”
Everyone froze in the kitchen, including Isaiah. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. He looked again at Clara. Did she have any idea?
* * *
Clara wished she knew what to say to stave off the angry words that could be coming next. Her daed would never allow her to defy him. The one time she’d been foolish enough to try, Daed had punished her severely. The pain from being lashed with his belt had worn off long before her fear of what would happen if she angered him again.
How would Isaiah react to Nettie Mae’s blatant disrespect? She shuddered as she imagined him trying to bend the kind’s will as her daed had struggled to subdue hers. Nettie Mae’s frustration wasn’t aimed at him. She’d been uncooperative at the optician’s, which was why Clara had brought the twins straight home.
Clara needed to act before the situation spiraled out of control, and little Nettie Mae paid the cost of her rebellion as Clara had. Picking up the gold-rimmed glasses, she blew on the lenses to dislodge any dust. She held them to her face as if she intended to try them on. Smiling, she offered them to the little girl.
Nettie Mae ignored her, turning her back and folding her arms across her chest.
Swallowing her gasp of shock, because to act so in her house would have meant a terrible punishment, Clara said, “Nettie Mae, Isaiah hasn’t seen you wearing your glasses. Why don’t you show him?”
She shook her head.
“Mamm wouldn’t make her wear them!” Andrew said stoutly.
Bless him! He’d given Clara the opening she needed to defuse the situation. With a smile, she said, “Your mamm helped Nettie Mae pick them out and placed the order for them.”
The little boy’s eyes grew so big, white circled the bright blue in their center. “Mamm did?”
“Ja.” Clara didn’t add anything more. She waited to see how Andrew and Nettie Mae responded.
The two looked at each other, and she could see their certainty crumbling. Isaiah’s shoulders relaxed. Had the despair lessened in his expression?
She squatted next to Nettie Mae’s chair and placed the eyeglasses in the little girl’s hand. She held her breath, hoping Nettie Mae wouldn’t drop them again. When the kind hesitated, Clara gave her a bolstering smile.
Her eyes swimming in tears, the little girl set the glasses on her nose and settled the curved sides over her ears. A sob caught in the three-year-old’s throat as she whispered, “I no grossmammi.”
“No, but you’re a very pretty young lady,” Isaiah said as he leaned toward her and rested his elbow on the table. “Don’t you think so, kids?”
“But you say, Onkel Isaiah,” argued Ammon, jumping into the conversation for the first time, “the prettiest thing is a smile.”
“And when Nettie Mae smiles
, you’ll see it’s true.” He winked at the kind, who gave up her attempt to keep her smile off her face.
As her siblings began to smile, too, he turned to Clara. His gaze held hers, and his grin broadened. They were becoming an excellent team in dealing with the kinder. The thought should have filled her with joy—and it did, but also sent a shiver of disquiet along her as she wondered how she was going to say goodbye to all of them.
* * *
“Whew!” Isaiah dropped heavily onto the sofa and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “How can they have so much energy at the end of the day?”
Clara looked up from the letter she was folding and putting in an envelope. Like every other night, she and the kinder had spent time writing to their grandparents and Aenti Debra. It had become as much a bedtime ritual for them as brushing their teeth and saying their prayers. “Maybe they aren’t tired because they don’t have to chase themselves to make sure they stay out of trouble.”
He smiled. “Not quite true. They do chase each other around, but in an effort to find mischief. I wonder what got them agitated tonight after Nettie Mae calmed down about her new glasses.”
She shrugged. “They had an exciting day with the trip into town and the thunderstorm.” She set the envelope with the other and the stamps on the table beside her. “I didn’t realize how frightened they are of thunderstorms. All except Ammon, who seemed to take the loud crashes of thunder in his stride.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at where he was sprawled on the sofa. “What’s wrong, Isaiah?”
“Nothing is wrong. Why do you ask?”
“You’re here instead of heading to the dawdi haus as you’ve been doing every night this week, so I’m assuming you waited for the twins to go to bed to discuss something with me.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got too much insight into people?” He meant the question as a joke, but her face closed up as if she’d slammed a door between them.
“I learned as a kind to be aware of what other people were thinking so I’d know what they’d do.” She ran her fingers over the envelopes. A nervous gesture, and he wondered why she was uneasy.
Maybe the best thing would be to end the conversation, but he needed one answer before he went into the dawdi haus, which had become a sanctuary where he didn’t risk seeing Clara each time he turned around. “Can you tell me something? I’m curious how long the twins have been calling you Aenti Clara.”
“Did one of them call me that?”
He couldn’t doubt her surprise was genuine. “Andrew did tonight.”
“I’ll ask him not to, if it’s bothering you. People might get the wrong idea.” She chuckled. “Onkel Isaiah and Aenti Clara? You might as well put a target on your back for the matchmakers.”
“That’s not why I mentioned it.”
“Oh?” Her wide eyes told him that he’d startled her again.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s clear to me that the kinder consider you part of their lives.”
“But a temporary part.”
“Ja.”
Coming to her feet, she clasped her hands in front of her. “Isaiah, what would you have me do? Treat the twins as if they’re my job and nothing more?” She shook her head with a regretful smile. “I can’t. You can’t either. You were wunderbaar with Nettie Mae tonight, convincing her the glasses made her special.”
“I think she’s special, so why shouldn’t she?”
“And that is what makes you special, Isaiah Stoltzfus.”
“What? Helping a little girl realize she doesn’t need to be a grossmammi to wear glasses?” He waved to dismiss her words. “Anyone would have done that.”
“No.” Her smile had vanished and regret remained. “Not everybody. I’m going to say something that you probably don’t want to hear, but, Isaiah, your friends are right. You need to think of marrying because you’re a very gut daed.”
“That’s not the reason to get married.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you dare mention this conversation to the Mast girls.”
His attempt at teasing her fell flat because she remained serious. “You’re a gift to these kinder. They know it, too. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s why they’re not as grief-stricken by their parents’ deaths. They have you, and they know you’ll take care of them as Melvin and Esta would have.”
“But I’m not their daed.”
“You are. At least temporarily.”
Coming to his feet, he knew he needed to put an end to this conversation before it wandered from the twins to him and Clara. It would be such a small step, and one his heart was pushing him to take. No, he couldn’t. Not when he knew how temporary this situation was. The kinder’s family should be arriving soon.
And what if he did listen to his heart? How could he be certain he wouldn’t make a mess of everything with Clara as he had with Rose? He’d let his wife down by not being there when she needed him most. He could do the same with Clara, being so focused on his work he’d fail her when she depended on him to be there.
Look at how you’ve left her with all the work with the twins this past week, he reminded himself. You didn’t even have time to check the answering machine, and you drive by it twice a day. He halted the thoughts. The gates would be on their way by week’s end. In the meantime...
“Don’t say anything to the twins about what they call you,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“Ja. If someone gets the wrong impression, that’s their problem. I’d rather have the kinder comfortable with you.”
She sat in the rocking chair again. “I agree.”
“Gut. They are what’s most important.”
“Something else I can agree with.”
He nodded. He doubted Clara did much without her heart being involved.
As she reached for the envelope and began writing on it, he asked, “Have you memorized their addresses already?”
“Ja.” Looking up, she smiled, and his insides seemed to be jumping for joy. “The words in their street addresses are unusual. They stick in my mind.”
He urged her to have a gut night’s sleep and hurried toward the kitchen and the door to the dawdi haus. He wanted to get out of the main house before he said something stupid like saying how she stuck in his mind.
Chapter Nine
“Are you set for tomorrow?” asked Reuben as he reached for another slice of Wanda’s delicious snitz pie.
Clara had been delighted with the invitation to the Stoltzfus farm for supper. She’d spent the day, while trying to do the household chores, watching Nettie Mae to see where the little girl stashed her glasses when she wasn’t wearing them. Like in the center of the kitchen table or on the bathroom sink or in the middle of the living-room floor when she was showing off a picture she’d colored. So far, Clara had been able to keep them from getting broken. She’d been glad when Nettie Mae gave her the glasses to put in her pocket while they drove to Isaiah’s family’s farm a couple of miles along the twisting road.
She now joined in the celebration that Isaiah had finished the massive gates in time. The flatbed truck had come that morning.
The twins had been excited about seeing Isaiah’s mamm whom they called Grossmammi Wanda. Or to be more accurate, Clara thought as she glanced out the window to where they were playing under the watchful eye of Leah’s niece Mandy, to sample Wanda’s desserts.
At the bishop’s question, Isaiah sat straighter and frowned. “Oh, no! I forgot about tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” she asked as she picked up her sweating glass of ice tea.
“Saturday,” Ezra said with a smile. He was Isaiah’s next older brother, and he ran the dairy farm and oversaw its cheesemaking.
Leah slapped his arm. “Be polite.”
“I’m
always polite.”
That brought a snort from Isaiah. “Always covers a lot of time and space, big brother.” Without a pause, he turned to Reuben. “Do you think we can find someone else to go at this late date?”
Clara looked from one face to the other around the table. Isaiah was annoyed with himself for not planning for whatever was going to happen tomorrow, but nobody else seemed perturbed. She wanted to ask again what was going on and tried to be patient. The others would let her know if it was any of her business.
But Isaiah is my business, her thoughts insisted. If something is upsetting him, it’s bound to upset the kinder, and I need to be prepared.
That was equivocating. She would be bothered whether or not Isaiah’s problem with whatever was happening the next day disturbed the twins. After the tough times he’d faced the past month, he deserved a stress-free day or two.
Wanda came to her rescue by saying, “Clara, tomorrow is the annual youth trip to Hersheypark. Several months ago, Isaiah agreed to be a chaperone this year.” Without a pause, she asked, “Why don’t you go with them, Clara?”
“Me?” She couldn’t hide her astonishment.
“We’ll watch the kinder.” Wanda smiled. “Then you can do as you promised, Isaiah, and Clara can have a day off, too.”
“But taking care of the twins is my job,” she protested.
“Everyone should have a day off from their job once in a while.” Reuben chuckled. “Even the gut Lord took a day off after creating the heavens and the earth.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“I told you that she has a lot of common sense,” Isaiah said with a grin.
Wanda wagged a teasing finger at him. “You’re saying that because you don’t want to have to watch a bunch of teenagers by yourself.”