The Proving

by Beverly Lewis

  “No way we could do everything inside otherwise,” Betsy said as she glanced around Mandy’s room. “Well, I’ll send Sadie back here with your suitcase. She’ll go over the reservations with ya—three couples are scheduled to arrive tomorrow afternoon around three-thirty.” Talkative Betsy motioned toward the upstairs. “All the guest rooms are ready ’cept one, since we had a late checkout today—the woman didn’t get going till two o’clock, but Sadie didn’t charge her extra, since she’s a regular.”

  Mandy nodded. “Of course.” She noticed the sampler she and Arie had taken turns stitching together still hanging on the wall near the dresser. Mamma had been so pleased with their work. A lump rose in Mandy’s throat. “Not havin’ my mother around will take some getting used to.”

  “She was a wunnerbaar-gut woman,” Betsy said softly just then, a catch in her voice. “I already miss her.”

  “She was so fond of you.”

  “I was blessed to know her,” Betsy said, staring at Mandy as if wondering why her sensible mother would bestow the inn on the daughter who’d left them all scrambling when she’d run off without explanation.

  Mandy drew a long breath; she needed to open some windows. Being back inside these familiar walls was nearly overwhelming.

  She thanked Betsy, glad things had worked out to spend the first few moments back in this house with her.

  Betsy went to the door. “Well, I’d best be finishing up, so I’ll excuse myself now,” she said.

  Mandy turned back to the window and cracked it open, the weather too chilly to open it wider. There she stood, where as a child she’d watched rain droplets slide down the polished panes, or stared in wonder as thousands of snowflakes fluttered and drifted to the ground. And all the while, Arie Mae had leaned against her shoulder, chattering, or lounged on the bed doing her newest needlework project or reading a library book.

  We shared everything back then. . . .

  Straightening a bit, Mandy observed Sadie finally tottering up to the front porch with the heavy suitcase. Oh dear, Mandy thought. She must think I packed rocks in there!

  The determined young woman had been a single grade behind Mandy and Arie, and one of Arie’s closest friends when they all attended the one-room schoolhouse.

  Seeing Sadie perch herself on the bulky suitcase to catch her breath, Mandy was struck again by the Kauffman sisters’ black mourning dresses and matching aprons. It was as though they considered themselves part of this family.

  Chapter

  6

  With the supper hour approaching, Mandy wondered when Arie Mae was due back with the groceries. She headed down the hallway, then out to help Sadie with the suitcase.

  “It’s heavier than I expected,” Sadie said, huffing as she heaved it in the door.

  “Here, I’ll take it to my room,” Mandy said, reaching for the suitcase. “Denki . . . should’ve insisted on helping. Sorry.”

  Sadie straightened and placed her hands on her hips. “While I’ve got you alone, I’d best be tellin’ ya . . . I’m just stayin’ on till Monday afternoon. After that, I won’t be workin’ here.”

  Dismayed, Mandy took note of the young woman’s deep frown. “Is it because of me?”

  “I didn’t wanna leave till you arrived,” Sadie said. “Wasn’t sure you’d really come back, to be honest.”

  “Well, just ’cause I’m here doesn’t mean you can’t stay, does it?” Mandy tried to smile.

  Sadie shook her head. “It’s just that . . . well, I realize that you weren’t baptized, but the way you up and left so quickly . . .” She sighed. “My fiancé’s concerned that by now you’re thoroughly English.” Sadie’s gaze came to rest on Mandy’s simple yet obviously not Amish clothes.

  Answering to me as her boss is a problem for her. Mandy’s standing among the community was definitely going to be a worry.

  “If I can’t persuade you otherwise, I won’t stand in the way of your leavin’,” Mandy said, her mind reeling with this setback.

  Not waiting for Sadie to say more, Mandy lugged the suitcase back to her room at the far end of the house, then went back to have a look at the grand porch, having noticed earlier all the dead leaves scattered here and yon, something her mother would never have tolerated. “First impressions are important,” Mamma had always said, and Mandy went to tend to that immediately.

  Hearing Sadie upstairs with Betsy, she went to the kitchen utility closet for the broom and made a beeline back to the porch, then swept it vigorously, attempting to quiet her frustration. Goodness, leaves even cluttered the seats of the rockers!

  That task done, she wandered back to her room and unpacked, thinking ahead to what she might wear tomorrow to greet the afternoon guests. Slipping into the shower, she considered again how disheartening it was that Sadie was quitting; the People hadn't forgotten that Mandy had gone west with two rowdy girls from Ronks.

  If so, it’s no wonder Sadie’s beau is worried, she thought as she toweled off. She towel-dried her damp hair and brushed it back on both sides, pinning a wide barrette on one side. Then she put on a long skirt and modest long-sleeved blouse and sweater.

  Heading to her mother’s room, Mandy crept to the foot of the double bed, uncertain why, really. Maybe it was curiosity. Taking in the roomy space, she saw little that personalized it other than the soft blue, green, and rose bed quilt. There were two freestanding oil lamps, one on the bedside table and one on the dresser—Mamma’s favorite lighting for sewing or reading.

  Lost in the moment, Mandy went to sit on the bed, gently tracing her fingers over the delicate stitches of the Whig Rose pattern she and Arie Mae had made for their mother’s birthday the year following Dat’s death. Such fun they’d had keeping their secret till the gift was given.

  I loved Mamma, she thought sadly, though we weren’t very close.

  There were times when Mandy wished her mother’s parting words might fade from her memory. Surely they would, given more time. But no matter Mamma’s written apology, Mandy recalled them yet again as she sat there, and the intensity with which they had been said. “If that’s how you feel, Mandy, perhaps it would be best if you left for a while. It’s none of your business who Josiah courts!”

  Even after Mandy’s departure, she had hoped, even prayed, that Josiah might cast Arie aside and return to her, his first love. Even as far away as I was in Kansas.

  But he hadn’t.

  And Mandy had never understood it. Why? she thought. Josiah and I belonged together!

  She tried to shake off the rising sense of disappointment as she revisited the old emotions, as fresh as if she’d just left. I had to leave. . . .

  Hearing footsteps in the hallway, Mandy stiffened.

  “Anyone in there?” The voice Mandy least wanted to hear drifted into Mamma’s room.

  Inhaling quickly, Mandy felt reluctant to make herself known. “I’m here, Arie.” She at last turned to see her sister, dressed in black. It felt uncommonly strange to see her in the flesh, as if they were both in a dream.

  “When did ya get in?” Arie asked, her voice pinched as flat as her expression.

  “Oh, just a while ago.”

  Arie didn’t budge from the doorway. “How was your trip?”

  “Longer than I remembered.” Mandy grasped for something more to say. “I’m getting reacquainted with the house. Seems so empty without Mamma.”

  Arie nodded but remained stationed where she was.

  Rising then, Mandy asked, “What else must be done for the guests arriving tomorrow? Is there coffee, tea . . . something sweet to offer?”

  Arie said there was plenty of everything. “Betsy and Sadie are nearly finished upstairs, and I’ve put away the necessary groceries.”

  “Gut to know.” Mandy supposed she should thank Arie for taking care of those details, but she didn’t feel up to it. The truth was, Mandy’s stomach hurt just breathing the same air as her sister. The painful past felt more alive now than it had in years.

  “
We have three couples comin’ . . . some repeat guests,” Arie Mae added, seemingly more calm now. “Two of the couples, the Hayeses and the Cohens, have been regulars for about four years now. Delighted with the inn and the area.”

  So I’ve never met them, Mandy thought. “And the other couple?”

  “The Spencers are friends of the Cohens, from what I know. Patrick and Heather Cohen have been raving about Mamma’s B and B to their acquaintances for quite a while now.” Arie actually smiled, no doubt in an attempt to worm her way back into Mandy’s good graces. “Now that they’re all retired, the whole bunch of them will basically take over the upstairs for the weekend. Except for the large suite at the end of the hall.”

  Mandy jerked her head in a quick nod. “Is that booked, too?”

  “It’s empty till Monday and Tuesday—we have a two-night minimum now, somethin’ Mamma decided a few years ago. Makes for less stripping of beds and whatnot.” Arie paused. “Would ya like to read through the guest list for the rest of the month?” she asked, running her fingers over her black apron waistband. Her tone had softened dramatically during this, their first encounter since that terrible day.

  Mandy nodded. “Sure.”

  “I’ve made a few notes for you in the reservations book,” Arie added. “Oh, and Mamma’s favorite breakfast recipes are all in her thick notebook in the kitchen cupboard, far left side, where she always kept it.” Arie’s voice cracked, and she looked down for a moment, evidently composing herself before speaking again. “Coffee is available starting at six-thirty in the morning.”

  Same as before . . .

  Mandy felt rooted at the foot of Mamma’s bed. “I assume Betsy still feeds the chickens and gathers the eggs.”

  “Jah, she likes doin’ those things.” Arie bit her lower lip, unnecessarily silent for a time. “Mandy, all of Mamma’s clothing and things are still here for you and me to sort through whenever you’re ready.”

  Mandy’s stomach was in knots. Arie had waited for her.

  “Jerome said he talked with you by phone.” Arie Mae eyed her curiously. “He didn’t say how soon you’d be arrivin’.”

  “He didn’t know . . . I wasn’t sure when I could get away.” Mandy wanted to blurt out the words her sister was surely thinking: No one had any idea why Mamma hadn’t appointed Arie to inherit the B and B. Yet saying so would do nothing to improve this exceedingly difficult moment.

  “You know, Mandy, I would’ve written to tell ya that Mamma died, but . . .” Arie stopped as if searching for the right words. Mandy could guess what she was about to say but did not. Maybe her sister didn’t want to reignite their fiery past.

  Still hugging the doorframe, Arie Mae sighed and glanced toward the windows, then back at Mandy. “There’s food in the fridge for supper when you’re hungry, and I’ll be over early on Saturday morning to make breakfast, like I’ve been doin’ since Mamma passed.” Arie turned as if she was leaving.

  “You’re in a hurry?”

  “I need to head home,” Arie said softly. “Next farm over, so I’m close if you need anything after work hours.” She pointed toward the north. “Dat’s old cornfield nearly bumps up against my vegetable garden.”

  Next door! Truth be told, Mandy wasn’t certain how she would handle them living so near. In spite of having read the telltale words in one of Mamma’s letters, Mandy felt surprised. “Now that I’m here, it’s hard to believe you went ahead and married Josiah . . . after everything that happened,” she stated, but immediately regretted it.

  “Please, Mandy . . . we’re expecting our first baby next June,” Arie said in a whisper.

  Mandy recoiled at the news, and for a moment, she refused to look at her sister.

  “I know Mamma told ya back when Josiah and I got engaged.”

  Mandy glanced up at Arie, who looked straight at her now, unflinching.

  “Jah, she did.” Mandy well remembered reading her mother’s letter; it was the day she’d vowed never to return. “No doubt what you wanted all along.”

  Arie’s face turned stony. And she remained silent, offering not a whit of an apology.

  She must not be sorry, Mandy thought, wondering if her sister might make an attempt to come clean at long last. When she didn’t, Mandy thought how awkward it would be, having to see Arie Mae on a daily basis, working together.

  Unexpectedly, Arie’s eyes seemed to soften, and she took a step forward. “Mandy Sue, I’m ever so glad you came home.”

  But Mandy was done with her sister’s platitudes, not when she wanted—no, deserved—Arie’s sincere apology.

  This can’t possibly work, Mandy thought, considering the challenges she faced, and something rose up in her. “Listen, don’t bother comin’ over to make breakfast on Saturday . . . or on any day after that,” she said crossly. “I won’t be needing your help.”

  Arie shook her head as if stunned. “What are you sayin’?”

  “I’ll run the place without you.”

  Arie’s eyes widened, but she said nothing as she turned and fled down the long hall.

  Trembling with anger, Mandy waited till her sister was surely gone, relieved she’d left without another word of protest.

  Chapter

  7

  Upstairs, Mandy found Sadie and Betsy making up the queen-sized bed in the pleasant and airy Green Room, always a favorite of guests, with its expansive treed view from the tall windows. Mamma had named all four of the guest rooms for the jeweled hues of the featured bed quilts.

  Still shaken, Mandy stood observing for a moment, trying to calm herself, yet unable to forget the time spent with Arie Mae in this pretty room, making up the bed, dusting, and sharing secrets as they worked.

  “So Arie's gone for the day?” Sadie asked as she stood on one side of the bed while Betsy took care to tuck in the hem of the sheet.

  Much as she wanted to, Mandy knew she couldn’t put this off. “She won’t be working here anymore.”

  Betsy’s eyes fluttered wide, as if to say, Are you ferhoodled . . . we need her!

  “Who’s gonna make breakfast for the guests?” Sadie asked, frowning as she glanced at her sister.

  “Well, as I recall, both of yous are fine cooks,” Mandy said, which might have been stretching it a little. She smoothed out the coverlet folded at the foot of the bed.

  The sisters exchanged looks.

  “Sadie’s the better one,” Betsy said quickly, giving a shrug.

  And the one who wants to quit, thought Mandy, groaning inwardly. She couldn’t bear to lose Sadie, not with Arie out the door. But Sadie didn’t seem willing to be convinced otherwise. “Would you mind showin’ Betsy what you do in the kitchen, Sadie?”

  But it was Betsy who shook her head. “Nobody would pay to eat my breakfasts!”

  Taking stock of the situation, Mandy tried to soften her approach. She felt uncomfortable learning how to be a boss, especially to helpers whom she assumed had little respect for her. “Of course I’ll do what I can, as well,” Mandy said, her stomach sinking now at the thought of her own rusty culinary skills. Only Arie equaled Mamma in the kitchen.

  “It’s gonna be hard managing everything,” Betsy pointed out.

  “Well, don’t fret ’bout breakfast,” Mandy assured her. “Sadie and I will handle that.”

  Sadie nodded. “But only through Monday,” she said, making it clear again.

  Betsy’s shoulders rose and fell, and she turned to look out the bedroom window. Mandy could well imagine Betsy must be thinking that someone who belonged here ought to be running the place. The fact that Mandy had once partnered with her mother and Arie Mae no longer seemed to matter.

  Mandy followed Sadie out to the hallway. “If ya change your mind about stayin’ on—”

  “Nee,” Sadie said right quick. “My beau won’t hear of it.”

  Mandy tried not to let the terse response jar her and went to check on the suite—the Blue Room—at the end of the hall. “Arie says this one’s not booked till Mo
nday night. Is that right?”

  “Come on . . . I’ll go over the reservations with you,” Sadie offered, and Mandy hurried after her as the three of them descended the very stairs where, as a child, Mandy had slid down the bannister oodles of times, Mamma always calling after her, “Careful you don’t slip and break your neck!”

  Going to the oak rolltop desk in the entryway, Sadie pushed up the lid, removed the well-worn reservation book, and motioned for Mandy to go and sit with her in the bright commons area meant for guests, formerly the family’s front room. It was the same room where Mandy’s father had been laid out in his coffin as hundreds of relatives and neighbors filed past, she recalled with a sigh. Mamma’s viewing and funeral, however, had been held at Jerome’s, he’d told her.

  A good daughter would’ve been present, Mandy thought gloomily.

  Betsy followed them into the room and primly crossed her legs at the ankles as she and Mandy sat with Sadie between them, the book open on Sadie's lap.

  “The inn is basically full through Thanksgiving,” Sadie said as she went line by line, pointing out the regular guests and first timers, each listed with an address and a phone number. “Unfortunately, December through February look rather slow, as you prob’ly remember. . . . Things stay that way till the mud sales start in the spring.”

  Mandy hadn’t forgotten and paid close attention to the tidbits of information Sadie was quickly sharing, including the special requests. Not all of it was in writing, however, and Mandy assumed that it was because Mamma knew the guests so well. “Here, let me get a pen and make some further notes,” Mandy said, concerned that Sadie, who seemed to be the sister more familiar with everything, wouldn’t be around for long.

  “Betsy’ll be here,” Sadie reminded Mandy when she rose to go to the hall desk.

  “I’m glad, but with only two of us, I’d rather not leave anything to chance,” Mandy replied, recalling her brother’s remark about the need to keep the B and B profitable. “I’m sure you understand.”

  “Honestly, I’m baffled why your Mamma dropped everything in your lap,” Sadie said, holding the large book steady as Mandy wrote a few things next to various names.