A Simple Singing

by Leslie Gould

  I was dumbfounded. I didn’t know anyone who would leave their daughter and grandchild on the streets. “What did Chrissie do?” I asked. “To deserve that? Drugs? Something worse?”

  “Marie . . .” Gordon’s voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  He sighed. “I don’t speculate about the clients. About what they did or do or don’t do. About why they’re living on the street. There are rules they have to follow to spend the night in the shelter, but their lifestyles are between them and—”

  “But she has a child! A sweet, innocent little boy. Why would she do that? Why would she put him at risk? And now another baby too?”

  Gordon shook his head. “There could be all sorts of reasons.” He backed out of the parking space. “I just want to get you home. Your mother is probably frantic.”

  It was ten o’clock. She wouldn’t be panicking if I were out with Elijah.

  I tried to keep my teeth from chattering, but the interior of Gordon’s car was freezing.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really need to get this heater fixed, or more likely get a new car.”

  As we drove along, I remembered my earlier longing to sing with him on the way home and talk about music. All of that was gone. Partly from exhaustion. But I sensed my questioning about Chrissie and her situation added to it. Gordon was always so kind and caring, but now I wondered what he really thought of me.

  The truth was, I’d enjoyed the singing tonight. Enjoyed was actually an understatement. I’d experienced a bit of heaven, but that didn’t mean I was cut out for volunteering at a homeless shelter. Jah, a homeless shelter. Honestly, I couldn’t even comprehend Gordon’s explanation to call the clients unhoused instead of homeless. Obviously, he and I were from two very different worlds and mindsets. Perhaps I lacked compassion, but I couldn’t imagine returning to volunteer again. Not that I’d actually volunteered. I’d simply sang—something that came quite naturally to me.

  “How is Leisel doing?” Gordon asked as we left the city. I wasn’t sure if he really cared or if he was just making conversation. “Will she be able to come home soon?”

  “Hopefully,” I said. “But I know that between nursing school and work, she’s really busy.”

  “Have I told you my sister is in college?”

  “No.” I leaned back in my seat. I didn’t think Gordon had told me anything about a sister or anyone else in his family, for that matter. Jessica said once that his father had left the family when Gordon was young and then had died a few years later, but that was all I knew.

  “She—April—is at the university in Philly. She’s a junior.”

  “Oh. Is she a year younger than you?”

  He nodded.

  “I didn’t realize Conservative Mennonites could go to college.”

  “Most don’t,” he said. “But my mom is a teacher, and my dad was too, and she really wanted us to get an education.”

  “But you haven’t? Not beyond high school, right?”

  “That’s right,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study. Plus, this way I can help April get through school.” Even in the darkness I could tell he was blushing. He probably thought he sounded prideful to reveal he was helping her, but I didn’t think so. I thought it was a sweet brotherly gesture.

  He added, “She’s studying political science.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  We rode in silence for a while. I thought about Gordon’s mother working as a teacher and wanting him to get an education. I wondered if she was disappointed that he worked as a farmhand. “So why did you get a job on our land?”

  “My grandfather was a farmer. I have fond memories of visiting them in Ohio—that’s where both of my parents grew up. I wanted to see how I liked it.”

  “And?” I asked.

  He shrugged and smiled. “I really enjoy it. . . .”

  “But not enough to do it the rest of your life?”

  “Something like that,” he said. “Which is actually a blessing, right? It’s not like I’d ever be able to afford a farm.”

  He was right about that.

  “What happened to your grandfather’s farm?”

  “He sold it a few years ago. Some of the money went toward helping my father.”

  “What happened?” I asked, my voice low.

  “He was mentally ill. It turned out he had bipolar disorder, but it wasn’t diagnosed for a quite a while. He ended up on the streets in Cincinnati until my mom and his parents found him. He was okay if he’d take his meds, but he wouldn’t for long. He ended up being hit by a truck when he tried to run across a busy highway.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks,” he answered. “I was pretty angry with him when I was younger. Once I understood mental illness better, I became more empathetic. He’s the one who taught me how to play the guitar. After he left, I stopped playing. But I started again in high school, which helped me heal from losing him. Honestly, volunteering at the homeless shelter helps too.”

  We both had lost our fathers, but under very different circumstances. I was more impressed than ever at Gordon’s steadiness, at his faithfulness. He’d suffered but turned his grief into helping others.

  After a few minutes of silence, he said, “I know I’m not supposed to compliment you or anything, but I could hear you singing tonight. I suspected you were a soprano—and I was right. But I didn’t expect your voice to be as beautiful as it is.”

  My face grew warm, even in the freezing cold. Because I didn’t know how to respond, I didn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “It’s all right.” I paused for half a second and then asked, “Is your mother okay with you playing the guitar and all of that?”

  He nodded. “She’s a music teacher at the Mennonite school I attended. Choir. Piano lessons. Plus, she leads a handbell choir at our church.”

  Surprised, I asked, “What’s that?”

  “Bells?”

  I nodded.

  “Just what it sounds like, but each bell is tuned to a different note. They’re played by a group of people.”

  “I see,” I said even though I didn’t, at least not entirely. I faced the passenger window and concentrated on the snowy landscape, thinking about Gordon’s mother. She was a single mother and earned money to raise her children by teaching music. Gordon’s family was Plain, but very different from mine, even more than I’d realized.

  But then I thought of when Dat played his harmonica. Arden would go home after the milking was done, and Jessica, Leisel, and I would stay out in the barn with Dat. Maybe for fifteen minutes or so, he would play and I would sing. And then he would let me play it sometimes. Jessica and Leisel would try to, but they couldn’t get it to work the way I could.

  When Gordon turned onto Oak Road, he said, “Thank you so much for coming.” A minute later, he parked in his usual spot, turned off his car, and then opened his door. Before I could manage to find the handle, he ran around and opened my door for me.

  I climbed out. “You don’t need to walk me to the door.”

  “No, I do,” he insisted. “I need to explain what happened to your mother.”

  Gordon and I walked side by side up to the front door, and then I led the way inside.

  Mamm’s voice greeted me before Gordon even shut the door. “Marie, is that you?”

  “Jah, Mamm,” I answered.

  “I’m sorry,” Gordon said as we stepped into the living room. “There was an emergency at the shelter. . . .”

  Mamm was perched on the edge of her rocking chair. On the couch, in the dim light, I could see Elijah with his hands on his knees. He stood, and Gordon quickly stepped toward him, shaking his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” I stuttered at Elijah.

  “Keeping your Mamm company.” He nodded toward the woodstove. “And tending the fire.”

  “I didn’t see your buggy.”

 
; “I put my horse in the barn. The buggy’s out back.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “What in the world kept you so long?” Mamm asked.

  Gordon quickly explained about Chrissie having a seizure and being transported by ambulance to the hospital. “We followed in my car, with her little boy.”

  Mamm’s voice was sympathetic. “What an ordeal.”

  Gordon nodded. “The director of the shelter drove his car to the hospital too. We left the boy with him.”

  I added that his grandmother was on her way to pick him up.

  Gordon added, “Hopefully I’ll hear in the morning how Chrissie and her baby are doing.”

  Mamm’s hand went to her throat. “Baby? You didn’t say anything about a baby.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Gordon explained. “Close to nine months, I think.”

  “Oh dear,” Mamm said. “Why was she volunteering at the shelter?”

  “She wasn’t,” I said. “She’s homeless—I mean unhoused.”

  “What?” Mamm pivoted toward me. “Why would she be, when she has a mother?”

  I shrugged, not saying I’d had the exact same question.

  Mamm’s voice wavered as she spoke. “I can’t imagine all of the bad choices, all the consequences that lead to that sort of thing. Thank goodness the boy is with his grandmother now.”

  Gordon looked as if he wanted to say more on the topic, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “I’m sorry I got Marie home so late.” He turned to Elijah. “And my apologies to you as well.”

  Elijah shrugged.

  “See you tomorrow.” Gordon glanced at me and then at Mamm as he headed to the front door.

  I called out, “Gut’n Owed” after him and Mamm did too, although in a quieter voice.

  “Goodness,” she said as the front door closed. “I shouldn’t have let you go with him.”

  I took off my cape. “It wasn’t that bad.” Although I hadn’t known what to do when Chrissie had the seizure, I was glad I’d been there for Rory.

  And the music, the songs, had awakened something I hadn’t felt in years.

  Mamm stood. “I’ll go on to bed and leave you two alone.” She turned toward me. “I don’t want to get in a long discussion tonight, but in the morning I need to speak with you.”

  “All right.” My face grew warm again, wondering if there was something I’d done besides staying out later than she expected. I always did my best to honor her, to obey her. That had been my bigget desire since I was a girl.

  As she started up the stairs, I sat down in her rocking chair.

  “Wait a minute,” Elijah teased. “I braved a freezing night like this to come visit you, and you’re going to sit all the way over there?” He patted the couch beside him. “Come on over here.”

  I gave him a sassy smile.

  “I don’t bite,” he said. “And I promise not to try to kiss you or anything like that.”

  “All right,” I said, although I honestly wouldn’t have minded if he tried to kiss me. Having him stop by was reviving my hopes. I stepped over to the couch and sat beside him.

  “You’re going to love your Mamm’s idea.” He put his arm around me. “You can’t believe how hard it is for me not to tell you.”

  “You know?”

  He nodded.

  “Come on,” I begged. “Give me a hint.”

  “It involves your Aenti Suz.”

  I leaned away from him and peered into his eyes. I couldn’t think of anything Mamm would plan for me that would involve Aenti Suz, except maybe a quilting bee.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. “You’re going to be as thrilled as I am. I promise.”

  Elijah stayed until midnight, mostly teasing me. When he finally got ready to go, he said he was leaving for Florida the next day.

  I groaned. “So soon?”

  “Jah,” he said. “But don’t worry about it, really.” His eyes danced.

  He’d promised he wouldn’t kiss me, but he did give me a sweet peck on the cheek. I walked him to the back door and then watched from the enclosed porch as he made his way to the barn to harness his horse.

  So much for courting Elijah Jacobs while he was home. We’d have to pick back up when he returned to Lancaster for good.

  The next morning, I stumbled down the stairs, bleary-eyed, to make breakfast for Mamm and Aenti Suz. I was surprised to find my mother sitting at the table with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. The fire was already stoked, and she appeared to be in a good mood. Perhaps she wasn’t mad at me after all.

  I stopped at the woodstove, attempting to warm up.

  “Did you have a good time with Elijah last night?” Mamm asked.

  “Jah.” I rubbed my hands together. “But he’s leaving today for Florida. I hoped he’d be here a few more days at least.” I turned toward Mamm. “He said you have a surprise for me?” I didn’t remember ever receiving an unexpected gift from Mamm. Even my birthday and Christmas presents were never unexpected—they were always something I needed. A new coat. A pair of boots. A hope chest.

  Mamm had a sly expression on her face.

  “You really do have a surprise for me?”

  “I’m going to tell you at breakfast. When Suz is here.”

  “Well then.” I stepped away from the stove. “I’d better get started.”

  I cooked scrambled eggs and sausage, and then toasted the bread I’d made the day before. I buttered it on top of the island in the middle of the kitchen, and then spread the apricot jam I’d made last summer on each piece. I didn’t sing, of course, nor even hum. There were times that even my humming got on Mamm’s nerves.

  Just as I finished, Aenti Suz came through the back door with a platter of sticky buns. Together we carried the food to the table and then we all settled in our chairs. Mamm led us in a silent prayer and then we began to eat. Neither my mother nor my aunt said anything. I hoped I didn’t appear as excited as I felt. The truth was, with Leisel living in Pittsburgh, Jessica married, and Elijah pretty much a no-show, my life had been pretty boring. I welcomed a surprise.

  Aenti Suz asked me about the evening before, and I told her about what happened at the shelter.

  “I’m so glad you were there to help,” she said.

  I nodded. “And then when I came home Elijah was here.”

  “Oh really?” Aenti Suz raised her eyebrows.

  “Jah. He’s going back to Florida today, but he said Mamm had a surprise for me, and you’re involved.”

  Aenti Suz leaned forward. “Bethel. Does Elijah work and live where I think he does?”

  Mamm nodded.

  “Jah. Pinecraft,” I said. “Or right next to it anyway.”

  Aenti Suz ignored me and addressed Mamm. “Don’t you think that would have been good information to pass on to me?”

  Mamm kept her eyes on her plate as she said, “I thought you knew. Don’t you remember that Bishop Jacobs said he thought it was a perfect idea?”

  I tried to keep my voice calm. “What are you talking about? What does Bishop Jacobs have to do with this?”

  My aunt leaned back against her chair, sighed, and then said, “It seems I should have known. Or at least guessed.” She turned her head toward me but spoke to Mamm, saying, “You should tell her.”

  Mamm raised her head, made eye contact with me, and then paused for a moment before saying, “I’m sending you to Florida for four weeks with Suz.”

  I dropped my fork on the table and then it bounced to the floor.

  As I scrambled to pick it up, Mamm said, “We already have a cottage. Your Dat rented it before he got sick, hoping I’d go with him. You’ll leave the day after the Epiphany.”

  “Why don’t you go with Aenti Suz?” I sputtered.

  Mamm’s face fell. “You don’t want to?”

  “No, I didn’t say that. But why me? You should go.”

  Mamm wrinkled her nose. “You know I don’t like to travel. I’d told your Dat, but he hoped I’d go anyway
. But since he’s passed, I want this for you.”

  Did she feel sorry for me? Because I’d never had any adventures in my life? But the truth was, I was more like her. Not one to travel.

  I wasn’t going to turn it down though. Not when Elijah would be in Florida—not when he was obviously excited to have me visit. And not when Bishop Jacobs had given his blessing.

  “Denki, Mamm,” I said. “It’s a wonderful surprise.”

  She beamed. “You’re welcome.”

  I turned to Aenti Suz. “Have you been to Florida before?”

  “Years ago,” she answered. “You’ll need to take your flip-flops. And only a sweater, although we’ll need our warm coats and boots on the bus. Your lightest dresses . . .”

  The back door opened as she spoke. Arden stepped into the kitchen, followed by Gordon.

  “Join us,” Aenti Suz said. “We have plenty of food.”

  Arden shook his head. “I’m going on home to give the kids a ride to school.” Unlike the Englisch schools, our scholars didn’t take off the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. “I was just showing Gordon in.” He grinned. “I’ll meet you in the barn when I get back.”

  Gordon nodded and then said, with his hat in his hand, that he’d heard from Tony. He turned to Aenti Suz. “He’s the director of the shelter.”

  “I see,” she said. “Marie told me what happened last night.”

  “Oh good.” Gordon looked at me. “Chrissie had a seizure due to high blood pressure. It turned out she had a condition called eclampsia. They ended up doing a C-section and delivered a baby girl. Five pounds four ounces. Eighteen inches long. Tony said both mother and daughter are doing well.”

  “Wonderful!” Aenti Suz clapped her hands together.

  “What good news,” I said to Gordon. “Denki for letting me know.”

  He nodded and then turned to leave.

  “Have a sticky bun first,” Aenti Suz said.

  “I need to get back to work.”

  Aenti Suz cleared her throat. “Marie, get Gordon a cup of coffee and a plate. Gordon, sit.”

  We both obeyed.

  “Now,” Aenti Suz said. “Bethel and I just surprised Marie with a trip to Pinecraft. She and I are leaving in a week. I know you’re going to be down there soon. Tell us when. And where.”