by Sarah Price
Immediately, Susan stopped working and gasped. “Grocery shopping? Together? In town?” Her eyes widened. Edna didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Susan was thinking. The older woman clucked her tongue and pressed her lips together in a mischievous way. “Well, wouldn’t that be something?”
Susan wasn’t one to gossip to others, so Edna didn’t mind sharing her thoughts with her. After all, Edna had thought the very same thing.
“Well, they did look rather comfortable together, I suppose,” she admitted. Was it too much to hope that Myrna might have found more than a job at the Riehls’ farm? Of course, knowing how fastidious Myrna was, Edna had her doubts. “But he’s a bit older than her, and she might feel she’s far too young to start off with four young kinner.”
“Oh now, Edna! Stranger things have happened,” Susan replied, a knowing gleam in her aging eyes. “Why, my own schwester married an older farmer with five kinner and went on to have six of her own!”
This time, it was Edna who gasped. Having only three sons, Edna couldn’t imagine raising such a large brood of children. Times were tough enough with the decreasing price of milk. How on earth did a farmer feed so many mouths?
“Eleven kinner? Oh help!”
“And my eldest bruder took on a second wife who was about Myrna’s age, and they were happily married until he passed away four years ago.” Teasingly, she wagged a finger at Edna. “So don’t ‘Oh help!’ me.” She picked up the platter and began carrying it to the table. “God works in mysterious ways, don’t you agree?”
Indeed she did.
* * *
By Wednesday, Edna could hardly wait to visit with Verna. She’d thought quite a bit about Susan Schwartz’s comments after worship the previous Sunday.
Now that Myrna was in the middle of her third week, Edna was curious if there were any signs of a serious attraction between the two young people. After all, Myrna had seemed unusually amenable and dutiful when Edna had seen her with Ezekiel at the grocery store. Surely Verna would recognize such a change in her daughter, too!
But, to Edna’s surprise, when she sat with her friends at the Bontragers’ house, working on the baby blankets for MayFest, Verna merely shook her head at the suggestion.
“I don’t know, Edna,” Verna said. “I get the feeling that she just doesn’t like it!”
“Like it? You mean the job?”
Verna nodded. “Ja, that’s what I mean. The first two weeks, she seemed so eager to leave for the Riehls’ in the morning. Why, I only had to check on her that first day to make certain she was up!”
“And now?”
Verna shrugged. “She’s been awfully quiet this week and doesn’t talk about the kinner anymore.”
None of this made sense to Edna. How could that be possible? “I don’t understand,” she mumbled. “She was so . . . so different the other week.”
“Ach!” Wilma cried out as she unwound a row of yarn from the blanket she was knitting. “Remind me next year that I don’t want to donate so many baby blankets!”
“I wonder what’s happened since last week,” Mary said, ignoring Wilma’s outburst. “You said she seemed so content working for Ezekiel.”
The room fell silent and Edna realized that Verna was visibly focused on her knitting. Suspecting that her friend hadn’t shared something, Edna probed further. “Verna, do you know what might have happened?”
“Well—” Verna practically squirmed under Edna’s intense scrutiny. “There was the ear candle situation . . .”
Both Edna and Wilma made faces as they simultaneously cried out, “What?”
Mary clucked her tongue. “I don’t even want to know.”
Wilma, however, did not share that opinion. “This ought to be good.”
Edna scowled at her. “Wilma!” she exclaimed. “This is serious.” She turned her attention back to Verna. “What on earth are you talking about? Ear candles?”
“It was Miriam Schrock,” Verna said point-blank.
At the mention of Miriam Schrock, Edna groaned.
Verna sighed and set down her knitting. “On Thursday, Miriam stopped by my haus. She’d brought an ear candle for the little boy. Said she noticed the little one tugging at his ear and crying. Thought he had an ear infection and the candle might help some.”
If Verna had said she’d seen Martians falling from the sky, Edna couldn’t have been more surprised. Leaning forward in the chair, Edna rested her elbows on her knees and stared directly at Verna. “Excuse me? Did you just say what I thought you said?”
Next to her, Wilma chuckled. “I knew this would be good.”
“Well—”
Edna held up her hand. “Verna. Please do not tell me that you actually bought into Miriam’s suggestion and told Myrna to use the ear candle on Ezekiel’s son!”
“I—”
Mary shook her head. “I’d never do that to Bethany.” Wilma snorted.
“But it works!” Verna insisted.
“What. Ever!” Edna lifted her hand and waved it at Verna. “Let me guess. Myrna tried it and Ezekiel found out.” She shook her head. “You know how he feels about medicine, Verna. Why would you even suggest such a thing?”
“Modern medicine,” Verna was quick to correct. “An ear candle isn’t modern medicine. Nor is apple cider vinegar.”
Edna’s eyes widened. “Apple cider vinegar?”
“Ja, you swab the ear to kill infection.”
Wilma burst out laughing and slapped her knee. “I’ve just about heard it all today.”
Edna shot a stern look of reproach toward Wilma. “I’m not so certain how I’d feel if someone did that to my dochder,” Mary said softly. “And I’m all for medicine.”
A defensive expression covered Verna’s face. “She only meant to help.”
Leaning back in her chair, Edna remained silent as she continued crocheting. No wonder Myrna was so subdued. Helping others was one thing, but treating someone else’s child without discussing it with the parents was quite another.
Edna suspected that any hope of a love match between Ezekiel and Myrna was just a pipe dream now. She made a silent vow that if Myrna lost this job, she’d not put herself out to recommend the young woman for another. If word got out about what Myrna had done, surely Edna’s own judgment would be questioned, if not by everyone, then at least by Susan.
She made a mental note to apologize to Susan Schwartz the next time she saw her at worship in two weeks.
Chapter Seventeen
By Friday, Verna felt ten times worse about having listened to Miriam. Why had she allowed herself to be influenced in such a way? She knew better than to butt in to other people’s business, especially when it came to children. And she certainly knew better than to listen to Miriam Schrock, of all people!
In hindsight, Verna knew that Mary had been correct: Verna never should have suggested that Myrna treat the child. And Edna’s silence spoke of her own disappointment in Verna’s interference.
But the worst was Myrna.
Every evening that week, Myrna had returned from the Riehls’ farm barely talking at all and only responding to questions with monosyllabic answers. Even her two brothers had commented in private to Verna that something was wrong with their sister.
“Is everything all right?” Verna had asked Myrna on more than one occasion, only to have her daughter respond with a simple “Ja.”
But Verna suspected that things were not all right. From the way her daughter withdrew and looked so forlorn, Verna began to suspect that there was truth behind her intuition that Myrna had developed feelings for this Ezekiel.
And that made Verna feel even more terrible.
Myrna wasn’t the type of young woman who spent a lot of time socializing. She certainly didn’t ride home with young men from singings, mostly because she tended to avoid going to singings altogether. So how, exactly, was Myrna supposed to meet a young man? Now, if she had actually started to take a shine to Ezekiel, had the ear candling
episode ruined her chances?
Verna couldn’t stop beating herself up about it. She had to find out what, exactly, was going on at the Riehl house to make her daughter so downhearted.
So, after she had finished hanging out her laundry on Friday morning, she decided to hitch up the horse to the buggy and ride over to the Riehls’ farm. Perhaps, she thought, I can correct this wrong.
The drive to Ezekiel’s felt painfully long. She tried to imagine her daughter bicycling all that way, pedaling through back roads and then Shipshewana to get to the southern side of town where the Riehls lived. Despite passing all the pretty farms, she found little to improve her mood.
Upon arriving, Edna tied the horse to the side of the barn and stood there, just for a minute, looking around. Everything appeared neater than she remembered from her first visit. The piles of wood had been removed from the side of the barn and the fence line had been trimmed of weeds. She wondered at this improvement to the property.
“May I help you?”
She turned around, surprised to see Ezekiel emerge from the dairy barn.
When he saw her, he abruptly stopped. “Ach, it’s you.” He greeted her with a broad smile and reached out his hand to shake hers. “I didn’t recognize you there,” he said apologetically. And then a concerned look crossed his face. “I hope nothing is wrong.”
Verna forced a nervous smile. “Nee, nee, everything’s fine. I . . .” She paused. She hadn’t thought she’d run into Ezekiel at this hour. Shouldn’t he have been working in the fields? Preparing them for planting? Quickly, she tried to come up with an excuse for having intruded unannounced. “I . . . I was nearby and thought I’d stop in. See how Myrna’s faring.”
“Hm.” He walked up to the horse and ran his hand along its neck. “She’s in the haus.”
“Everything is well?”
“Oh ja, I reckon so.” He patted the horse’s shoulder, avoiding Verna’s eyes.
She glanced around the barnyard. “You’ve tidied up a bit, I see.”
He nodded. “With Myrna helping out, I’ve more time to work outside.”
His comment startled her, and Verna’s eyes narrowed, just briefly, as she wondered if she’d misheard him. Surely he’d had enough help before Myrna started working there. After all, hadn’t Katie Ruth’s sister watched the children? “So, things are working out, then?” she prodded.
“For sure and certain. The kinner love her.” And then he smiled again, his eyes lighting up. “Especially her cookies.”
When she saw the glow on his face, Verna managed a small laugh.
“You’re practically a celebrity with the boys,” Ezekiel continued.
“Me?”
He nodded. “Ja, for having taught Myrna how to bake so many different types. They’ll be rather put out that they missed meeting you.” He dropped his hand from the horse. “Perhaps another time, ja?”
That sounded promising. If Ezekiel intended to terminate Myrna, he wouldn’t have asked for his children to meet her, Myrna’s maem. “I’d like that for sure.” She began feeling at ease in his presence. “Although I expect their aendis and grossmammi make them cookies that are just as tasty as mine, if not better.”
Suddenly, the expression on his face changed, as if a dark cloud had passed over him. “Hm.” His eyes flickered toward the house. “I best get back to work. Myrna’s inside if you wish to visit with her.” Without another word, he turned and headed back into the dairy barn.
* * *
Inside the house, Verna noticed that everything looked cleaner and brighter. The cabinets practically shone from having been freshly oiled, and the room smelled fresh from Murphy’s Oil. There was nothing on the countertops, and everything looked orderly. Even the table was already set for the noon meal.
Myrna’s doing.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, Verna couldn’t help but feel a touch of pride. Her daughter’s tendency to overorganize had finally found a place where her efforts could be appreciated.
“Maem?”
Verna turned around in time to see her daughter emerge from the downstairs bedroom, little Katie attached to her hip.
“What’re you doing here?”
Verna smiled at the sight of her daughter holding the baby. There was something natural about the way Myrna’s arm wrapped around Katie, her hand cupping the child’s bottom in a protective way. “I just thought I’d see how things are going,” she admitted. “You’ve been so quiet at home as of late.”
Myrna pursed her lips.
“I . . . I wanted to make certain you’re truly all right.”
“I’m fine, Maem.” Myrna gave Katie a little jiggle, and the baby laughed. “Getting the hang of taking care of the kinner and the haus. It’s starting to run like clockwork. And the boys . . .” She smiled. “They’re such a handful, but so entertaining. Henry’s napping, or I’m sure he’d be here, climbing onto your lap. Why! You’d think these little ones never had any attention before!”
Verna frowned.
Immediately, Myrna added, “Not Ezekiel!” She sounded defensive about her employer. “He’s very attentive and kind to the kinner. But no one from Katie Ruth’s family has stopped by. Not once since I’ve been here. You’d think someone would want to check in on them.”
“That is rather strange,” she admitted.
“I thought so, too. But I like working here very much. Truly I do. It’s so”—she paused—“rewarding.”
Verna studied the way her daughter stared into the baby’s face as she said those words. “That’s gut. A job should be rewarding.”
“Ja, I reckon.”
Verna couldn’t help but notice the lackluster look in her daughter’s eyes. “But something is wrong, isn’t it?”
Myrna took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“Myrna, whatever it is, please tell me.”
As she did, her shoulders drooped just a little bit. “I’m afraid I’ve upset Ezekiel, Maem.”
Just as Verna had expected. “Let me guess.” A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. “The ear candle?”
Myrna nodded. “Ja, the ear candle.”
“Oh, Myrna.” Verna stood up and walked over to her. She placed her hand on Myrna’s shoulder as she apologized. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
At this comment, Myrna shook her head. “Nee, Maem. I’m an adult. I should’ve known better. I should’ve trusted my own judgment.” She stepped away from her mother and moved toward the rocking chair near the far window. Verna followed and sat in the chair next to Myrna.
“I never should’ve pressed you to do that,” Verna admitted. “I never should’ve listened to Miriam.”
At the mention of the woman’s name, Myrna frowned. “I’m just as guilty.”
“I spoke to Ezekiel just now.” She glanced toward the door. “Outside. He seemed pleasant enough.”
Myrna stiffened.
“Things are sour between the two of you, then?” Verna asked in a gentle tone, and then, withdrawing her hand, she retreated back to the chair. “It’s what I feared.”
“Nee, that’s not it,” she replied. “But something’s changed. He’s more silent than usual. Doesn’t come into the house as much as before. I’d like to think he’s just busy and working, but I’m afraid that’s not it at all.” She hung her head. “I can’t understand why I am so affected by what happened. Ja, that’s it. Affected. Why, in the past, I’ve always stood by my decisions, right or wrong in the eyes of others.”
Verna gave a small smile. There was something sweet in her daughter being so unaware of her own feelings. What was so obvious to her mother was obscure to Myrna. Verna, however, wasn’t about to avoid the reality of the situation.
“Mayhaps you’re affected, as you say, because you’re a little ferhoodled, Dochder.”
Myrna snapped her head upward and stared fiercely at her mother. “Ferhoodled!”
“Ja, that’s what happens, Myrna, when you start falling in love.”
> Myrna shifted the baby in her arms. “I’m not in love with anyone!”
“I didn’t say anyone, Myrna,” Verna countered softly. “But mayhaps you are with Ezekiel.”
She watched as Myrna’s mouth opened, her eyes widening as she stared at her mother. After too long a pause, she finally shut her mouth and shook her head. “Nee, Maem. I’m not.”
Verna didn’t believe that for a heartbeat. “Mayhaps not yet, and certainly not ever, if you don’t apologize to him, Myrna.” Verna gave her daughter an encouraging smile. “I think this is one of those times where least said is not soonest mended.”
Chapter Eighteen
When she arrived at the Riehls’ farm on Saturday morning, Myrna set about her chores right away.
She hadn’t slept at all the previous night, tossing and turning in her bed as she mulled over her mother’s words. She was most certainly not in love with Ezekiel Riehl. Why! She wasn’t even certain if she liked him, not after he grew so angry about Henry and the ear candle. Thankfully, the boy’s earache had gone away, whether on its own or from her treatment. Regardless, Myrna’s relief that Henry was no longer in pain was countered by her irritation over Ezekiel and their confrontation.
What sort of man would shun medical treatment in such a way? She knew that she couldn’t answer that question, not only because she just didn’t know, but because Ezekiel did not seem to be anything other than an extraordinary father to his children. It created a strange puzzle indeed.
Throughout the night, she’d told herself over and over again that she shouldn’t care. People raised their children based upon their own values and beliefs. Even among the Amish, some lived very conservative lives, while others were more lenient and worldly.
During her bicycle ride to the Riehls’ farm, Myrna convinced herself that she had to honor Ezekiel’s strange belief system about medicine. He wasn’t the only Amish person to feel that way. Why, last spring, Susie Hostetler refused to get surgery for her foot after it was crushed by a Belgian mule! Now she walked with a limp and most likely would for the rest of her life.