Room on the Porch Swing

by Amy Clipston

  “Have you spoken to Rudy?” he asked.

  Laura faced him, her brow furrowed again. “Not since last Wednesday.”

  He blinked. This was Tuesday. Rudy hadn’t talked to her for . . . six days? When he was dating Savilla, they spoke to each other at least three times a week and wrote letters daily. How could Rudy go so long without seeing her or checking to see if she was okay?

  “You haven’t spoken to him for nearly a week?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes we don’t talk for a few days, but I’m sure I’ll hear from him soon. Do you need something from him?” She pointed to the shop. “I can call his daed’s hardware store for you if you want.”

  “No, that’s not it.” He paused. “I was wondering if he approved of your working here.”

  Something unreadable flickered in her eyes as her lips pressed together before she responded. “Rudy doesn’t need to approve where I work.”

  “Oh.” Savilla’s words about the stubborn Riehl children sounded in his mind once again. “I didn’t want to upset him by having you over here all the time.”

  “He won’t mind.” Her expression brightened. “What time would you like to eat supper?”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I think we need to set some ground rules.” Her hands were back on her hips. “You need to stop telling me what I don’t need to do. If I want to make you supper, then I will. You look worn-out, and you don’t need to worry about making a meal after working all day in your shop. Besides, I enjoy cooking, and trying new recipes is one of my favorite pastimes.”

  He bit his lower lip to prevent a chuckle from escaping. How long had it been since he’d laughed at anything but his daughter’s antics? Since Savilla died, of course.

  He nodded. “You’re right.”

  “Also, when I ask you what time you want me to have your supper ready, you must give me a specific time. The last thing I need is for you to come in at five thirty looking for supper when I have it planned for six. I think that’s a fair request, don’t you?” She lifted her eyebrows.

  “Ya, I agree. How about five thirty, then?”

  “That’s perfect.” Her smile was back. “I’ll go home after the kitchen is clean and Mollie has had her bath.” He opened his mouth to protest, and she held up a finger. “What did we just discuss?”

  He sighed. “Fine. Danki.”

  “Gern gschehne.” She grinned. “And I promise it won’t be a casserole.”

  He groaned as she laughed. “You’re never going to forget that, are you?”

  “Nope.” She opened her mouth to say something more, but she was interrupted when a wail exploded from inside the house. “Someone is awake.” She started for the door.

  “I’ll finish the laundry and you get Mollie,” he offered as she stepped past him into the house.

  “Don’t be gegisch. I can handle everything. You just get your water and then go back out to your shop. I’ll see you at five thirty.”

  As she disappeared through the screen door, Allen felt his shoulders relax. He continued to hang the clothes on the line anyway, and after several minutes, he heard the door open and then click shut. He pivoted as Laura walked toward him, balancing Mollie on her small hip.

  “Hi, baby.” He reached for Mollie and took her from Laura. “How was your nap?”

  Mollie yawned and then burrowed her head into his shoulder.

  He kissed the top of her head as she sighed.

  “I just remembered something,” Laura said as she dug into her apron pocket. “I found this when I was stripping your bed.” She held out a small metal box.

  Allen balanced Mollie with one arm and took the box in his free hand. He gasped as he turned the box over in his hand. “I’ve been looking for this. Where did you find it?”

  “It was on the floor between the bed and the nightstand.”

  Tears stung Allen’s eyes as he stared at it. He’d given Savilla the special box engraved with their initials the night before their wedding. It was a symbol of their impending union and their new life together, a life cut short after little more than a year. An ache opened in his chest and quickly spread.

  “When did you give it to her?” Laura’s question was quiet, as if she were afraid of the answer.

  “The night before our wedding.” He cleared his throat and pushed the box into his pocket. “Danki for finding it.” He looked down at Mollie to avoid Laura’s sympathetic eyes.

  “If you take her, I’ll finish hanging the laundry,” she offered.

  “Okay.” Allen moved past her into the house and plopped Mollie into her play yard. “I’ll be right back,” he promised before loping up the stairs and into his bedroom.

  He crossed the room to his dresser and recalled Savilla’s gorgeous smile when he’d first handed her the gift. She’d cried tears of joy and then kissed him. The moment was forever etched in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. His lungs tightened as a tear trailed down his cheek.

  Although he’d given Savilla many gifts during their short time together, she told him this small memento meant the world to her. Every night she’d stood at her mirror and removed the bobby pins from her hair before storing them safely in the box. After she died, he searched for it, tearing his room apart to find it.

  He looked over at the bed. How had the box wound up on the floor?

  Now that he’d found it, he wouldn’t risk losing it again. He pulled open the top drawer of his dresser, moved aside his clothes, and set the box at the back. Then he covered it with his clothes. He would guard the box and keep it safe, as if it were his heart.

  SIX

  The back door clicked shut as Laura placed a platter of baked pork chops in the center of the table and took in her work.

  She’d set two places, including two glasses of water. A bowl of green beans, a bowl of mashed potatoes, and a basket of bread surrounded the pork chops. A plate of oatmeal raisin cookies sat on the counter for dessert.

  She rubbed her palms over her apron and turned toward the doorway to the mudroom. Allen stood staring at her, his eyes wide.

  She frowned. “Let me guess. You dislike pork even more than you dislike casseroles.” She groaned as she pointed to the table. “I suppose I should have asked if you—”

  “No, no, no.” He shook his head and crossed the room, coming to a halt at his chair. “I’m just a little surprised you had all of that in your tote bag.”

  “Not all of it.” She gestured to the green beans. “I found those in the refrigerator and the rolls in the brot box.”

  Mollie crawled across the kitchen floor, sat up, and reached for Allen. “Dat! Dat! Dat!”

  “Hi there. I’ll pick you up in one second,” he told Mollie before moving to the sink to wash his hands. Then he lifted his daughter, who squealed and held up a teething necklace. “Everything looks appeditlich.”

  Laura stood a little taller. “Aren’t you froh you let me stay for supper?”

  “Let you?” His eyebrows shot up. “You make it sound like I had a choice.”

  She laughed and leaned on the back of the chair where her place was set. “I’m ready to eat when you are.” She reached for Mollie. “Would you like to get in your high chair?” Mollie didn’t answer, but Laura took her from Allen, buckled her in, locked in the tray, wiped her hands with a clean cloth, and handed her a roll. “Can you say brot?”

  Mollie squealed again and then took a bite.

  “That’s close enough.” Laura shook her head and then looked over at Allen as he folded himself into his chair across from her. She sat down and bowed her head for the prayer.

  After they ate in silence for several minutes, Laura shifted in her seat. “Did you finish any of your projects?” she asked while buttering a roll.

  He nodded as he cut a pork chop into neat pieces. “I finished the one and called the customer. He’s supposed to come for it tomorrow.”

  “That’s gut.” She lifted the roll to her lips.

  “You’v
e been busy today too.”

  “Ya, I have. I changed your sheets and put away your clean laundry. I also swept the schtupp and started dusting, but I ran out of time.”

  He frowned, and she hurriedly chewed and swallowed the bite she’d just taken.

  “Don’t say it.” She pointed her fork at him. “I wanted to. I know I didn’t have to.”

  His expression relaxed, and he shook his head and took a bite of pork chop. “This is amazing.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I used mei mamm’s favorite recipe. I brought her cookbook with me in case I needed it. Mamm and I used to cook together every day. I miss that.” She cut up her own pork chop while trying to think of something else to say. She’d shared many meals with Allen after he moved there from Indiana, but she’d never shared a meal alone with him. She didn’t remember ever being alone with him before the last couple of days. She racked her brain for something to discuss.

  “Do you miss Indiana?” she finally asked.

  “I guess so.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I miss freinden, but I don’t really think about it much.”

  “Did you leave any family behind?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She tilted her head. “You don’t have any cousins or aentis and onkels?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  She stared at him, trying to comprehend his response.

  He picked up his glass. “You look confused.”

  “I am. What do you mean by ‘not that I know of’?”

  “I guess Savilla never told you about my parents?” he asked. She shook her head. “Mei mamm wasn’t really Amish. She was raised in an Amish home, but she left when she was twenty. She came home when she was pregnant, had me, and then left again. I don’t know anything about mei dat or his family. I don’t even know his last name. My grandparents were the only family I’ve ever known. Mei daadi died when I was eighteen, and mei mammi died when I was twenty-one.”

  “You never met your mamm?”

  “I met her once when I was six. She came to visit, but she didn’t stay long.”

  “Do you remember meeting her?”

  “Ya.” He forked some green beans. “I remember her arguing with mei mammi, and then she left.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, really. My grandparents were my parents. My biological mamm gave birth to me, but that’s it. I had a gut childhood. Mei daadi had a carriage repair business that he passed on to me.” His expression was warm. “I miss them, but I was froh to move here to be a part of Savilla’s family and her community.” Something flitted across his face—sadness or maybe grief—and then it was gone.

  Laura nodded as she contemplated his story.

  Mollie grunted, and Laura turned toward her. The roll was gone except for a few crumbs.

  “You like brot, huh?” Laura cut two tiny pieces of pork chop and dropped them on the tray. “You need some protein. Try that.”

  Mollie picked up a piece and ate it before smiling up at Laura with her blue eyes sparkling.

  “You like pork?” Laura leaned down and grinned at her. “Can you say Laura? Come on, now. Laura.”

  Mollie sputtered at her and then ate the other piece of pork.

  “One of these days she’s going to say my name.” She looked over at Allen and found him watching her with intensity in his expression. She swallowed. “Did I do something wrong? Do you not want her to eat pork?”

  “That’s fine.” He wiped his mouth and beard with a paper napkin. “I’m just surprised by how gut you are with Mollie. You really have a talent with boppli.”

  “Not really.” She cut up more pork and placed it on Mollie’s tray. “I helped our neighbors with their kinner when they were young. I’ve always loved taking care of kinner, and I guess you just never forget how to handle them. And even at five, I liked helping Mamm take care of my baby sister Cindy.”

  “Your childhood was different from mine. You had siblings.”

  “Ya.” Laura laughed a little. “And I got a twin as a bonus.”

  “You and Mark are close.”

  “Ya, we are. Contrary to popular belief, we can’t read each other’s minds, but we can sense each other’s feelings. Sometimes I long for some space, but he means well. He’s protective, and I do appreciate that. Well, most of the time.” She ate some potatoes and then turned to Mollie. “You’re doing well with your green beans.” After giving Mollie some mashed potatoes, she turned back to Allen. “Are you refurbishing any buggies to sell?”

  “Ya, I picked up two.”

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  During the rest of supper, she and Allen talked about his buggy projects, and Laura was relieved to avoid awkward silence.

  When they were full, she carried the dirty dishes to the sink, scraped them, and then turned on the faucet. Allen brought the leftovers to the counter and pointed to her empty Pyrex dishes. “Do you want me to put these in the containers for you?”

  “Ya.” She nodded toward the refrigerator. “You can keep them.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain?”

  “Ya.” She set the dirty dishes in the sink. “You can go sit down if you’d like. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

  He hesitated and then held up a hand. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t you give Mollie a bath, and I’ll do the dishes?”

  Laura was about to tell him he didn’t have to keep helping her, but then she looked at Mollie. The little girl was smashing potatoes on her tray, and they were caked in her curls and stuck to the side of her face. Laura grinned. “Do you really think she needs a bath?”

  “Ya, I really do.”

  Laura looked up at him, still smiling. “I think that’s a gut idea.”

  “Whew.” He cupped his hand to his forehead with feigned dramatics. “I thought you were going to yell at me for suggesting you not complete one of your self-imposed chores.”

  She chuckled. “Am I that bad?”

  “I don’t want to answer that question. You might yell at me.” He turned toward the sink. “I’ll get started on the dishes.”

  With a clean, wet washcloth, Laura wiped off what food she could from Mollie’s face and hands, unhooked the tray to the high chair, and lifted her into her arms. She kissed her messy forehead and smiled. She was going to enjoy caring for Mollie.

  As she walked out of the kitchen, she thought she could feel Allen’s stare burning into her back. Was he concerned she wouldn’t be the best caregiver for his daughter? She certainly wasn’t Savilla, or even Irma Mae, but she’d do everything she could to reassure him.

  Laura yawned as she climbed out of her driver’s van two hours later. After giving Mollie a bath, she helped Allen finish cleaning the kitchen and then offered to watch Mollie while he showered. But he insisted she go home.

  The weight of her exhaustion pressed down onto her shoulders. It had been a long day, but she’d enjoyed every moment with Mollie.

  “You’re finally home.”

  Laura looked up at the back porch. Rudy sat there, pushing the glider back and forth with his toe. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs as he studied her.

  “Wie geht’s?” She stopped at the top of the steps and let her tote bag drop to the porch floor with a loud thunk. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

  Suddenly Allen’s confused expression and his words from earlier filled her mind. You haven’t spoken to him for nearly a week?

  As she took in Rudy’s dark eyes and handsome face, doubt confronted her. They’d always had a relaxed relationship, but the realization that they hadn’t spoken in days suddenly struck her as odd. Maybe Allen’s suggestion was correct. Maybe it was unusual for a boyfriend not to contact his girlfriend for so long.

  “Well, I wanted to see you. But when I got here, Cindy told me you started helping Allen because Irma Mae is injured. But why were you there so late?” he asked, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “Cindy said you’d be home soon and I
could wait for you, but that was nearly an hour ago.”

  “I needed to help Allen.” She rested her hand on the railing as she stood in front of him.

  “Help him with what? Weren’t you there all day?”

  “Yes, but his boppli and household chores don’t run on a time clock. I spent the day doing laundry and taking care of Mollie, but then they needed supper, and Mollie needed a bath.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Didn’t you hear Irma Mae will probably be in rehabilitation for quite a while?”

  “I heard she’d fallen and been hurt, but I hadn’t realized it was that bad. Or that Allen would need someone like you there.” He settled against the back of the glider. “That’s really kind of you to help him. I’m sure he appreciates it. Now that I think about it, I realize he can’t run a business and care for Mollie and his haus by himself.” He patted the seat beside him. “You must be tired.”

  “I am.” She dropped down next to him.

  “How’s Allen coping with Irma Mae gone?”

  “He seems exhausted, like he’s burning the candle at both ends. Mollie didn’t sleep well last night, so he was worn-out today.”

  “That’s tough.”

  “Ya. That’s why he needs my help. How was your day?”

  Rudy rested his arm on the back of the glider as he turned toward her. “Busy. We had customers all day long. I was thankful for my lunch break.”

  “That’s gut, right? It’s always gut when the store stays busy?”

  “Ya, but my feet hurt.” He chuckled, and then paused for a moment, as if contemplating something. “I just realized I haven’t seen you since last week.”

  “Oh, so you have noticed.”

  “Noticed what?” His forehead wrinkled as his eyes moved over her. Did he think she was annoyed he hadn’t noted a new dress or apron? Was Rudy truly that dense?

  “Never mind.”

  “How have you been—I mean, even before you started helping with Mollie?” His words seemed genuine despite his weeklong absence.

  “I don’t know. I’m too tired to remember.”

  “I’m tired too.”

  They stared at each other as an awkward silence stretched between them like a great chasm. When had they started to run out of things to talk about? They’d known each other since they were children, and their relationship had always been full of fun. But lately the relationship felt different, like a favorite sweater she’d suddenly started to outgrow.