Plain Proposal

by Beth Wiseman

  Ruben and James were cleaning up the mess when Saul walked into the den, the smell of red wine hovering in the air around them.

  “What set him off this time?” Saul asked as he made his way to a spilled bottle of wine. He picked it up and recognized the brand to be none other than their own. For as long as Saul could remember, his father made his own wine from the muscadine grapes that grew along the back of their property. They grew wild and abundantly, and once Saul had taken a machete to the flourishing vines, hoping to banish them forever. But they came back even fuller the next year, along with Daed’s appetite for the drink.

  Saul glanced around the room at the toppled coffee table, overturned rocking chair, and slivers of glass surrounding the brick outlay of the fireplace. As he grew closer, he recognized the stems on the broken glasses at his feet. He squatted down and picked up one of his mother’s favorite glasses that had remained housed in her china cabinet until tonight—glasses that she’d never used, a gift from an Englisch friend. Mamm said they were too fancy, but she kept them displayed so that her friend, Ida, would see them when she came to visit.

  Ruben edged closer. “I don’t know, Saul. Me and James were cleaning things up in the barn, and we heard Daed yelling and glass breaking. I went in, but when I saw the fire in his eyes again, I went back to the barn.” Ruben hung his head. “I wasn’t sure what to do. I told James I thought we should stay in the barn until Daed passed out.” He looked back up at Saul. “I ain’t ever seen him throwing things like that, and I just. . .”

  Saul was glad his father had passed out on the couch, instead of just falling down on the floor. It was so much harder to get him off the floor. “You did the right thing. When he gets to that point, there’s no reckoning with him, and he usually passes out not long after that.”

  Ruben picked up a piece of glass. “Mamm loved these glasses, even though she never would use them.”

  Saul picked up the two green blinds that were in the middle of the floor, window coverings ripped from the walls. He shook his head. “Daed’s been doing so gut. I thought we were done with this.”

  James brushed by Saul and Ruben carrying a plate that he’d picked up from the other side of the room. Spaghetti and meatballs left over from the night before covered the whitewashed wall to the right of the fireplace. “I don’t know how this plate didn’t break,” James said as he moved toward the kitchen.

  “Well, we best get this cleaned up and try to make things look as back to normal as we can.” Saul shook his head as he went to the mudroom to get a broom.

  When he returned, he started sweeping up broken glass while Ruben scrubbed tomato sauce from the wall. He dreaded the next morning. They’d all eat breakfast together and no one would say anything. Daed would eat very little and head to the fields early, then he’d stay out later than usual, as if the extra hard work would in some way make up for what he’d done. He’d know what happened, even if he didn’t remember all the details. Saul thanked God that his father had never laid a hand on any of them when he was in a drunken rage.

  “It ain’t ever gonna be normal,” Ruben said as he carried a white rag soaked in red to the kitchen.

  Saul sighed. He’d been counting on it being normal. Finally. So that he could leave in August knowing that his brothers wouldn’t have to go through this in his absence. Ruben might be able to handle it, but James still cried after Daed had one of his fits like tonight.

  Two hours later Saul set the lantern on his nightstand, then sat on the edge of his bed. He still needed to take a shower, but he’d told Ruben and James that they could bathe first. It was going to be late when they all finally got to sleep. He opened the drawer to his nightstand and pulled out the white envelope hidden beneath his Bible. He didn’t need to read the letter since he knew it by heart. Instead, he opened the Bible and read for a few minutes but decided he needed some direct communion with God. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  Dear Lord, please help me to help him.

  Saul opened his eyes and questioned his plea. Was it selfish to want his father to be a well man so that he could leave and pursue his dreams?

  He closed the Bible, set it on the bed next to him, then pulled the letter from the white envelope. As he moved the lantern closer to him, the words danced on the page in the dimly lit room.

  Dear Saul,

  I would like to extend a formal invitation for you to join me at my new restaurant in Pittsburgh. Our meeting confirmed your willingness to learn more about what it takes to be a chef, and you asked some fine questions. The dishes you prepared were delicious and distinct, and I enjoyed some of the other recipes you left with me too. Your pumpkin cinnamon rolls with caramel frosting were amazing, and the recipe you referred to as Heavenly Chicken was—indeed—heavenly. The ground ginger was a great touch. I look forward to tasting your traditional Amish recipes—shoofly pie, whoopee pies, and creamed celery.

  I would like to offer you the position of apprentice chef if you are still interested in working with me. As we discussed while you were here, my bistro will open for business in September.

  Warmest regards,

  Phil Ballentine,

  Owner and Head Chef,

  Ballentine’s Bistro

  Miriam spent the week trying to get Shelby used to the family schedule, but her cousin still couldn’t seem to get up and going in the morning. She’d thought that after almost a week, maybe Shelby would come help with breakfast, and today would be a busy day. Like Mondays, there was always more to do on Fridays because Mamm hosted supper for tourists. Their Englisch friend Barbie always suggested Mamm’s suppers to the guests at her bed-and-breakfast, and tonight eight people were coming.

  Miriam fought her irritation with Shelby as she marched up the stairs to tell her breakfast was ready. As expected, her cousin was still in bed with the covers over her head. Miriam didn’t know how Shelby didn’t burn up underneath those covers this time of year. She put one hand on her hip, shined the flashlight toward the bed, and prepared to speak loudly to her cousin and remind her that there was much to do today. But as she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed Shelby’s pink book on the nightstand, her pen resting between the opened pages. She moved the flashlight toward it.

  Every night Shelby would pull her book from the drawer, then pull the tiny key from her purse. It was always about that time when Miriam would roll over, face away from the lantern light, and fall asleep. Each night the book was tucked safely back in the top drawer. Locked. Miriam only knew this because she kept her hairbrush inside the drawer too, along with a spare kapp and a scarf for trips to the barn. There was only one drawer in the nightstand, so she couldn’t help but notice.

  From where she was standing, she could see blue ink scrawled across the pages, and there was not a doubt in her mind that Shelby kept the book locked for a reason. But Miriam could practically feel the Devil himself pushing her closer to the book as she tiptoed around Shelby’s bed toward the nightstand. She held her breath for a moment, heard Shelby lightly snoring, then leaned her head down and pointed the flashlight toward the words on the page.

  Dear Diary,

  I’m so lonely. My cousins are doing their best to make me feel welcome, but I can tell that I just don’t fit in here. Not surprising. Nothing is the same as back home, and I hate getting up at four thirty in the morning. I’m not missing Tommy as much. Now I’m just mad at him for hurting me. But I’m even madder at my parents. Neither one of them have called to check on me or anything. What kind of family is that? My cell phone has been dead for days because there is no electricity, another thing that I could never get used to. But there is a phone in the barn and Mom and Dad could have called. They’ve just written me out of their lives and moved on. Hope they’re both happy.

  Since I don’t talk to God anymore, this journal is all I have. I wish I could talk to Miriam, but I don’t think she’d understand any of this. We’re just too different. Her parents are different. This whole family is different
. In some ways, that’s good, I guess. They are all nice to each other. There’s no screaming or yelling.

  I miss television. I wish I had a car here. I wish I had someone to love me.

  Miriam didn’t move or breathe when Shelby twisted beneath the covers in the bed. Then she eased her way back to the open doorway of the bedroom. She felt guilty for reading Shelby’s private thoughts, but she immediately began to think of ways to help her cousin. Doesn’t she realize that God loves her? Miriam knew that if Shelby didn’t find her way back to God, it would be hard for her to come to peace with the other things bothering her. She tried to put herself in Shelby’s shoes, although it was hard. What if my parents didn’t live together? What if I was cast out among the Englisch to live? What if my parents didn’t check on me? What if Saul broke my heart? Maybe it was okay that Shelby didn’t get up early to help make breakfast.

  “Shelby.” Miriam shined the light at the foot of her bed. “Time to get up and eat. Breakfast is ready.”

  Her cousin pulled the covers back but didn’t open her eyes. “Okay. I’m coming.”

  Miriam glanced at the book on the nightstand, then turned and left the room. By the time she returned downstairs, everyone was seated at the table.

  “Is everything okay?” Mamm spread her napkin on her lap. “Is Shelby coming?”

  Ben let out a heavy sigh. “She’s always late to breakfast.”

  “Hush, Ben,” Mamm whispered as they all waited.

  Miriam glanced at her father, his arms folded across his chest, then at each of her brothers who were eyeing the eggs, sausage, and biscuits. Come on, Shelby.

  After a few moments, Miriam said in a whisper, “I think Shelby’s sad, and I think she misses her family.”

  Mamm nodded. “I’m sure she does.” She sat taller and gave her head a taut nod. “This morning everyone at this table is going to do our best to include Shelby in conversation and make her feel like part of this family. Understood?” Mamm glanced around the table.

  “Elam can tell some of his dumm jokes.” Ben chuckled.

  “No joke telling at the breakfast table.” Their father unfolded his arms and stretched. “Where is that maedel?”

  “Sorry I’m late.” Shelby scurried into the kitchen with sleepy eyes, her hair still tangled. She eased onto the bench next to Miriam.

  “It’s no problem, dear. Let’s bow our heads.”

  Miriam was sure the prayer was the shortest on record. They always took a cue from their father. When he cleared his throat and lifted his head, so did everyone else. This morning Daed must have just said, “Thank You, Lord, let’s eat.”

  Shelby dished out a small spoonful of eggs, one piece of sausage, and half a biscuit onto her plate. No wonder Shelby was so thin. She didn’t eat enough. Miriam helped herself to a much larger helping of eggs, two pieces of sausage, and an entire biscuit.

  Everyone was quiet for a few moments, but then Miriam was surprised when Shelby helped herself to more eggs. Barely a minute or two later, she spooned even more eggs onto her plate. Miriam realized that this was the first morning her mother had made what little John called “special eggs.”

  “These eggs are different, Rebecca.” Shelby swallowed, then filled her fork again. “I love them.”

  “Ya, they’re different all right,” Elam said with a smile.

  “Why, danki, Shelby.” Mamm smiled, then shot a warning look to everyone at the table. “Let Shelby enjoy her eggs.” She turned to Shelby. “This is the most I’ve seen you eat since you arrived.”

  Shelby nodded with a mouthful.

  Ben put his hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. Miriam knew why he was laughing, and she was fighting the urge to grin as well. Most Englisch folks didn’t care for Mamm’s secret ingredient in her “special eggs,” but Shelby sure did.

  Little John leaned forward across the table, his eyes wide with wonder as he spoke. “You’re the first Englisch person I ever saw who liked head cheese.”

  Miriam held her breath as she watched Shelby stop chewing. “What?” Shelby asked with a mouthful.

  “Mmm.” John rubbed his small belly as he talked. “I seen Mamm make that cheese too. She takes them hogs’ heads and scrapes ’em clean, then she pokes out their eyes and dumps ’em in a kettle—”

  “John! I’m sure Shelby doesn’t need to know how I make my special eggs.” Mamm forced a smile, but the damage was done.

  No one moved as they watched Shelby slap a hand across her mouth, which was filled with those special eggs.

  Mamm let out a heavy sigh, then cut her eyes at Miriam’s youngest brother. “See what you’ve done.” Then she turned to Shelby and pointed at the trash can. “Go ahead, Shelby, dear. You won’t be the first.”

  Shelby bolted from the chair, ran to the trash can under the sink, and spit Mamm’s special eggs into the garbage. When she looked up at everyone, the expression on her face was totally blank.

  Miriam couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, followed by her brothers. Then Shelby started laughing so hard that she bent over at the waist, and Miriam was sure her cousin was going to cry.

  Her mother just shook her head and grinned. Daed shook his head too, but he smiled from ear to ear.

  This was probably the last thing Mamm had on her mind to cheer Shelby up, but Shelby laughed longer and harder than any of them.

  Which made her seem just like part of the family.

  It was late morning when Rebecca sent Miriam and Shelby to the market to pick up a few things she needed to prepare supper that evening. Despite plans to go earlier in the week, this was Shelby’s first time to visit the town of Bird-In-Hand, so she scanned her surroundings while Miriam parked the buggy.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t brought you sightseeing before now. This isn’t where I would normally go shopping for groceries, but it’s a fun place I thought you might like to see. The Bird-In-Hand Farmers Market is popular with the tourists.” Miriam pulled back on the reins once she had the buggy parked next to another one in the parking lot. “We won’t have much time today, but I promise soon we’ll take a day so I can show you around.”

  Shelby stepped out of the buggy, then looked across the street from where they were parked. Bakeries and gift shops lined streets filled with bustling tourists. She walked around to where Miriam was tethering the horse and waited.

  “Ready?” Miriam smiled, then took a few steps across the parking lot. Shelby followed, but she stopped abruptly when Miriam did. Her cousin raised her hands to her face, then sidestepped four women whose cameras flashed in their direction. Shelby felt unusually protective. Miriam had told her earlier in the week that they didn’t take or pose for pictures. It was actually against their religion, for reasons Shelby didn’t totally understand. Miriam also told her that most of the non-Amish people knew this, but that they took pictures anyway.

  “Don’t get her in the picture,” said a woman with dark curls, toting several bags and pointing at Shelby. “She’s not Amish.”

  Shelby glared at the women as she and Miriam passed by them and continued across the parking lot. She waited until they were out of earshot from the women, then turned to Miriam. “Doesn’t that aggravate you?”

  “Huh?” Miriam crinkled her nose.

  Shelby had noticed throughout the week that Miriam’s entire family had a limited vocabulary. “Doesn’t that make you mad? People always snapping pictures and staring.”

  Miriam shrugged as they neared the entrance of the market. “No. We’re used to it.”

  “Well, I think it’s rude.”

  Miriam grinned. “I didn’t say we liked it. We’re just used to it.” Miriam held the door open and let Shelby walk ahead of her. Then her cousin pulled out a handwritten list that Rebecca had given them. “It’s a short list. Normally we go to Zimmermann’s grocery store in the town of Intercourse. We’ll go there next week to do our heavy shopping.”

  Shelby eased down the aisles with Miriam, where Amish and non-Amish vendors on both
sides sold quilts, dolls, jewelry, baked items, canned vegetables, jams, jellies, and a hodgepodge of other things. Shelby could stay there all day looking and shopping, she thought. She pulled her purse up on her shoulder and remembered the small amount of money she had to last her for three months. Not enough to do any real shopping. She eyed a jewelry rack to her left, silver earrings and matching necklaces. Then she breathed in the aroma of freshly baked goods and decided that if she splurged, it would be on something to eat. Something safe—without head cheese in it. She grinned at the recollection. Her parents would have come unglued if she’d spit food into the trash and certainly not laughed about it. Shelby loved the laughter in Miriam’s house.

  Most of the people shopping were non-Amish, she noticed. She also took note of two men walking her way. Nice-looking guys about her age. For some reason Jesse popped into her head, but the vision vanished when one of the young men mumbled something in Pennsylvania Deitsch to Miriam as they walked by. Her cousin scowled but didn’t say anything.

  “Why were they speaking in Pennsylvania Deitsch? They weren’t Amish.” Shelby turned around in time to see the men round the corner to the next aisle.

  Miriam reached into a large wicker basket on a nearby counter and pulled out a large bag of homemade noodles, then blew a loose strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “No, they’re not Amish. They’re just dumm.”

  Shelby’s jaw dropped momentarily. This was the first time she’d heard her cousin speak harshly of another. “What did they say?”