by Marta Perry
“We had all that out,” Thomas said. “It’s done with.”
“So maybe you’d ask Daad. Please? I guess he doesn’t trust me very much right now, but if I’m with you, I can’t get into trouble.”
Thomas winced at the word. Trust seemed to be in short supply around the Fisher place. Still, the boy deserved a second chance to do the right thing.
“Okay, I’ll ask him. But whatever he says, goes.” He looked out at the rain. “Soon as it eases up.”
Adam smiled as he eased the headstall over Jake’s head. “I don’t think he’ll object as long as I’m with you. I already told him how sorry I was. It wasn’t worth it.”
“What wasn’t?” Did the boy mean apologizing wasn’t worth it?
“Skipping the singing, I mean. But some of the guys asked me, and I didn’t like to say no.”
Thomas leaned against the stall, watching him. “Englisch guys?”
“Well, yah.” He flushed again.
“So what was it? A drinking party?”
“I didn’t have any,” Adam said, too fast.
“Meaning they did?”
He nodded. “Not much. A couple cans of beer is all. One of the guys has a car, and we just drove around.”
“If they were drinking and driving, and they were stopped, you’d be picked up, too.” He tried to point it out in a colorless tone, not wanting to put the boy’s back up. But riding with someone who’d been drinking was a dangerous thing to do, and Adam ought to realize it.
Adam looked startled. “I . . . I didn’t think of that,” he muttered.
Maybe it was best not to say anything more about it and trust that the point had gotten through. If he could make a difference for Adam, it could make up a little for all the other stuff he’d done.
“Looks like it’s not so bad now,” Thomas said. “I’ll go see what Daad says.” He darted out into a light drizzle.
Daad was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee. Mammi, at the counter, raised the coffeepot and looked at Thomas with a question. He shook his head.
“No, thanks, Mammi. I just wanted to ask Daad something.”
“Yah?” Daad set the mug down.
“I’m headed for the fire hall to set up for the Mud Sale. Jacob asked me to help with putting the booths together. Mind if I take Adam? We could use the help.”
He knew immediately that the answer was no. Daad didn’t even take the time to think about it. “The boy’s being punished. He can’t go anywhere.”
Thomas tried to take it lightly. “I’d make sure he worked. No fooling around.”
Daad didn’t look impressed. “Like you did Sunday night?” The edge in his voice was sharp enough to cut yourself on.
Thomas could only stare at him for a moment. “I didn’t have anything to do with Sunday night. I wasn’t there.”
“You encouraged him.”
Thomas’s temper spiked. “I did not. Why would I?”
Daad shoved away from the table and stood, glaring at him. “No way of knowing. But he never thought of such behavior until you came back.”
He felt as if Daad had hit him in the face. Behind his father, Mammi stood with her hand to her lips, obviously shocked and pained. But she wouldn’t say anything, not in front of him anyway.
His lips were numb, but he managed to spit the words out. “I see nothing’s changed. You didn’t trust me seven years ago, and you don’t trust me now.”
He spun and charged out the door. Nothing had changed. Nothing would change. So what was he doing here?
* * *
—
After a school day that would have tried the patience of a martyr, Dorcas finally reached the fire hall. Several buggies had been pulled into the only cover there was, a canopy stretched along the side of the hall for tomorrow’s auction. The rain, after pouring down in the afternoon, decided to lessen into a steady, depressing gray shower that appeared to have no end.
Lemuel drew up by the door. “Here you are. Don’t get wet. I’ll come back for you later.”
Dorcas hurried down and under the shelter of the small roof over the door. “You don’t have to come back for me. Someone will be going our way and drop me off.”
He nodded, settling his shoulders against the steady raindrops that darkened his jacket. “See you at home. Stay dry.” His smile flickered, and then he clucked to the gelding and drove off.
Dorcas ducked inside and was enveloped in an atmosphere of dampness, warmth, and chatter. On the far side, one of the engine bays had been emptied of its truck, and the men had obviously been busy putting the stands together. The materials had all been stored in the long shed behind the fire hall, where they lived from one event to another. They were ready to be brought out and assembled each time an event was held, and they got plenty of use with one thing and another.
Several of the men still worked on what were probably the last few stands. Her stomach seemed to do a complicated flip when she realized that Thomas was among them, standing on a stepladder to nail a top piece in place. He’d taken off his jacket, and suspenders crossed his broad shoulders.
Dorcas tore her gaze away before someone saw her, and she hurriedly focused on hanging her damp jacket on a wall hook where it could steam above the radiator.
Groups of women had appropriated some of the long tables that were used for community suppers. They worked around them, organizing materials for various booths, and the air was filled with the hum of their conversation, punctuated by an occasional laugh. A work frolic, that was what it was called, and these events always lived up to their names.
The longest table had been given over to sorting the many pieces that had been donated for the quilt auction. It was the biggest fund-raiser of the year, and every woman who did any quilting at all wanted to have her quilts in the auction. Full-size quilts, place mats, baby quilts, table runners, wall hangings, even potholders were donated and usually brought in generous prices.
Dorcas spotted Sarah among the woman working there, so Dorcas squeezed between tables toward her. At the moment, Sarah was pinning a small piece of paper to the corner of a quilted wall hanging. The paper contained an identifying number that could be checked against the master list. That would tell the auctioneer who the maker was, as well as an estimated value.
If the auctioneer felt the bidding wasn’t high enough, he had his own methods of jollying the crowd along to push it up. Most people agreed that, with a good crowd, the items would bring a better price that way than any other method of selling them. The advantage of a good crowd for the auction was that people would get caught up in the excitement and spend more than they’d intended, even for small items like potholders.
Of course, more rain tomorrow would keep folks away, so there would be lots of prayers tonight for fair weather tomorrow. If the crowd was small, the take would be less. Some lucky buyer might get a handmade quilt for considerably less than its value. On the other hand, the school and the fire hall would be the losers.
She finally got around the last table, no easy feat as close together as they were, and reached Sarah.
“Wilkom.” Sarah folded the hanging and put it on a separate stack with others of its kind and turned to give her a welcoming smile. “I was sure you’d come over as soon as school was out. Rain or no rain.”
“I wouldn’t miss it, no matter the weather.” Dorcas pulled over the next item and set to work even as she spoke. “And I’m glad to escape the schoolroom on a day like this. My students make even more noise than a hall full of women. And labeling quilts is easier than keeping my scholars occupied.”
Sarah chuckled. “You don’t need to tell me that. I left Noah trying to finish what he could before the twins came home. He knew he wouldn’t have any peace when I was gone.”
“He should put them to work at something where they can expend a lot
of energy,” Dorcas said. “But I don’t suppose he wants them racing around his workshop. It’s a long day for the younger ones when they can’t get outside. Although I have to admit that some of the older scholars can be just as pesky when it’s raining, especially the boys. They’d start wrestling in the cloakroom if I gave them a chance.”
“Which you don’t, I’m sure. Yes, I remember those days.” Sarah glanced around the room. “Did you speak to your mamm about coming to help?”
Dorcas nodded. “I hoped she’d come along with Lemuel when he picked me up at school and brought me in, but she didn’t show up. I guess the weather discouraged her, or maybe Betsy needed her for something.”
“I guess Betsy didn’t need her too much, from what I can see.”
“What do you mean?”
Sarah gestured toward the door. To Dorcas’s astonishment, Mamm was coming in with Sarah’s grandmother. “Never underestimate the power of my grandmother to get people to do what she thinks they should,” she said smugly. “I suggested this would be a good thing, and she was happy to help.”
Dorcas couldn’t help laughing a little at herself. “I guess your grandmother did it better than I did. Why is it that older people will listen to their contemporaries when they won’t listen to us?”
“Aren’t we the same?” Sarah asked. “I suspect I know some things about you that your mother doesn’t. And the same is true of me.”
“Yah, that’s so.” She had to agree. And there were some things even Sarah didn’t know. She gave an inadvertent glance at Thomas, who was nailing a painted sign to the top of a booth.
Sarah followed her gaze, though her hands never stopped their work. “I guess you’re seeing a good bit of Thomas Fisher these days, ain’t so?”
“Too much,” she said quickly, giving in to her thoughts and worries. That earned her a questioning look from Sarah.
“Why too much?” Sarah’s eyebrows lifted. “There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? After all, you’re both free. And you were very close when you were teenagers. We all thought . . .”
Dorcas shrugged, deciding to ignore that last statement. She glanced around, but the buzz of talk and the sound of hammering made enough noise to cover a low-voiced conversation. But she’d best keep this talk light if she could.
“Thomas has enough on his mind with settling into his family again and starting his business. He doesn’t have time for anything else. At least, he shouldn’t,” she amended. Sometimes she thought he was ready to forget all of that and let himself go, and then he’d become grave with what she supposed were memories and worries.
“And what about you? How do you feel about him?” Sarah wasn’t one to let things go.
She focused on what was the least of her problems with Thomas. “I have enough trouble with people interfering with my school and trying to cause problems. I don’t need Thomas around teasing me and making me feel like I’m sixteen again.”
“So does he make you feel that way?” The light in Sarah’s eyes told her she’d said exactly the wrong thing if she wanted to dampen Sarah’s interest in what passed between her and Thomas.
“No, he—” She stopped, knowing it was no good trying to make Sarah believe that. “Well, maybe some. Which means I need to see as little of him as possible.”
“I don’t know about that,” Sarah said, a teasing note in her voice. “You’re not that much of an old maid, ain’t so?”
“You’re just so happy now that you’re married that you want everyone else to feel the same,” Dorcas retorted.
“Nothing wrong with that.” Sarah was openly laughing at her now.
“Not for me,” she said firmly, and turned to the next quilt.
Sarah, apparently deciding she’d teased enough, did the same. They worked together in harmony, and Dorcas enjoyed watching the stacks of quilted products rise higher.
“Ach, it’s even better than I hoped.” Dorcas turned to find her mother admiring the colorful stack of quilts. “I knew we’d do well, but this is wonderful. We should bring in a gut amount for the school, ain’t so?”
“And the volunteer firemen,” Dorcas added, smiling at her mother. “Yah, I’m sure of it. Even if the weather isn’t perfect, people will turn up and bid with a display like this.”
Mammi nodded agreement, and she looked livelier than she had in weeks. Mammi’s enthusiasm made her feel hopeful about getting Mammi out and involved again.
“I thought you wouldn’t have wanted to come in the rain, or Lemuel could have brought both of us,” she added.
“Yah, I did think I’d stay at home.” Her mother actually flushed a bit. “But Sarah’s grossmammi wouldn’t let me. She said I wouldn’t melt if I got wet.”
“And you didn’t.” Sarah’s grandmother reached across them to touch the stack of wall hangings, which promptly collapsed in a colorful jumble. “Ach, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m no help, doing something to slow you down.”
“It’s fine.” Sarah pulled a large box from under the table. “Time we started putting them in the boxes, ready for tomorrow. We can’t leave them lying out.”
“Should we leave the boxes here on the table?” Dorcas began stacking the wall hangings neatly in the carton. “I guess we’d best label the boxes so we can find things quickly for the auctioneer tomorrow.”
“Yah, I brought a marker with me,” Sarah said. “I think it was decided to put the boxes on the side wall near the door out to where the auction will be. We should put all the same things together in case Ben wants to auction them that way.” Ben Schmidt was the auctioneer who volunteered every year. “He’ll want to save pieces made for Englisch bidders for when the most people are there, so they should be boxed separately, I think.”
Dorcas nodded. They both knew that some of the quilts had been made with prints and designs and colors to appeal to the taste of Englisch bidders. She’d seen Ben in action a number of times, and always marveled at how he managed to get the most out of any sale he did. She started to pick up the filled carton, but Mammi put out a hand and stopped her.
“Let someone else do the carrying while you go ahead with your work.” She called out. “Here, Thomas. If you’re not doing anything else just now, come and carry these boxes for us.”
So much for Dorcas’s resolve to stay well away from Thomas. Even Mammi was innocently throwing them together. At least, she supposed it was innocent on her part.
Thomas came, of course. He could hardly ignore a call for help. Would he think her mother was trying to bring them together?
It was what she was afraid of. Mammi hadn’t given up on getting her daughter married, often pointing out that a daughter was a daughter, something she could hardly deny. She knew what that cryptic sentence meant. It meant a daughter was supposed to provide some granddaughters. And grandsons, of course.
Not that Dorcas would mind having a baby daughter one day. She remembered those moments when she’d held baby Will and once again she felt a longing she’d never known. But things were far too complicated when it came to Thomas.
Still, she managed to greet him cheerfully. She indicated the finished carton, which Sarah had labeled. “This goes over on the table by the wall, and there’s another that’ll be ready in a moment.” Sarah was already putting quilts in place.
He nodded, his face even more expressionless than usual. “I’ll wait and take them both at once.”
“Gut.” She hesitated. Something was wrong—it didn’t take much insight to know that. The moment she’d seen him up close, she’d sensed there was a problem. Trouble with his family?
She couldn’t help thinking that Thomas’s return wasn’t going as smoothly as his mother probably wished. Maybe she’d been too optimistic about how this would go.
Mammi had wandered off to help someone else, having done her spot of matchmaking, and Sarah was busy at the end
of the table. She took advantage of their momentary isolation.
“Something is wrong, ain’t so?”
His jaw tightened until it looked as if it would break. “You might say that.” He spat out the words as if he were trying to find someone to vent his anger on.
“I’m sorry.” There was probably little else to say. “If you want to talk about it . . .”
For a moment he stared at her as if he disliked her. “Talking won’t help. It never does.” His bitterness made the words sting like a slap. “Sorry. I need to get out of here.” Ignoring the carton, he charged through the milling crowd of women and out the door.
Dorcas picked up the carton and carried it over to the table herself, hoping no one had noticed what happened. She’d like to be angry at Thomas’s behavior, but she couldn’t. He was hurting, and that made him strike out, like an injured animal snarling at its rescuer. His pain made tears sting her eyes, and she wished she could disappear as well. But she couldn’t. She had to stay here and pretend everything was all right.
* * *
—
Time moved on, and people began to leave as they finished their projects. Dorcas’s mother left with a group of older women, and Dorcas stayed on to finish up preparations for the auction. Sarah would drop her at home when they were done.
As Sarah marked the last few boxes, Dorcas gathered up stray pieces of tissue and paper. “I’ll take this out to the trash bin unless you need me to do something else.”
Sarah straightened, putting her hands on her lower back and stretching. She glanced around the hall, seeming satisfied with what she saw. “That sounds gut. I’m almost finished with these, and then I’ll be ready to leave. You must be starved.”
Dorcas shook her head, her arms full. “Not too bad. Lemuel brought me a sandwich and a thermos of coffee, so I did have something before we started.”
“Gut. We’ll have to be here early tomorrow, ain’t so?”
One glance told Dorcas just how tired her friend was. “There’s no need for you to come early. Why don’t you sleep in? Everything is organized for the auction, and there will be plenty of help here tomorrow, ain’t so?”