by Beth Wiseman
“Schee beh.” Miriam shook her head, then started walking again. “It means nice legs, and non-Amish boys and some of the younger men say that to us. I don’t know who first taught them to say that in Pennsylvania Deitsch, but it stuck.” She shook her head. “We hear it all the time.”
Miriam stopped abruptly, almost dropping the bag of noodles.
“What’s wrong?”
Her cousin spun around. “Hurry, let’s go the other way.”
Shelby looked over her shoulder. There was a man about her father’s age holding hands with a pretty woman with blond hair, and there were also three women huddled together by one of the jewelry racks.
“Who are you avoiding?”
They both rounded the corner, and once they were halfway down the next aisle, Miriam stopped and took a deep breath. “That was my Onkel Ivan and his. . .” She scowled as she lifted her chin. “His Englisch girlfriend, Lucy Turner.”
“Oh. The bad uncle.” Shelby pressed her lips together. “Want me to go pull that woman’s hair or something? Then I could kick your uncle in the shin.”
Miriam’s eyes grew wild and round. “We don’t do things like that, Shelby!” She spoke in a harsh whisper.
She was so serious that Shelby couldn’t help but laugh. “Miriam, I’m kidding.”
Miriam grinned. “Ya, well. . . I wasn’t sure.” They slowly started walking again. “I’ve only seen Onkel Ivan once since he’s been back. It was in a restaurant, but he didn’t see me. I almost didn’t recognize him. He looks different now.” She faced Shelby with squinted eyes. “We’re supposed to avoid him, and I didn’t want it to be awkward.”
“Where’s your aunt?”
“Aenti Katie Ann is in Colorado with some other family members.”
“Did that woman who was with your uncle break them up?”
Miriam sighed. “I think so.”
Miriam paid for everything with the money her mother had given her, then looped the small bag over her wrist. They were almost out the door when she heard her name. She recognized the voice and slowly turned around.
Uncle Ivan eased ahead of Lucy and gazed down at Miriam with soft gray eyes, his lips parted slightly in a smile. His tan trousers were held up with a black belt instead of suspenders. His short-sleeved shirt was bright yellow, not dark brown, blue, or green, like she was used to seeing him wear. He seemed thinner and different in more ways than just his appearance. He seemed to stand taller, almost. . . proud. It was unsettling to see him this way, since pride was to be avoided, and it worsened as Lucy cozied up to his side and looped her arm through his.
She’d been praying for her uncle to see the wrong in his ways and return to the church. But based on this new look, she didn’t feel hopeful.
Lucy’s hair was so blond that it was almost white, and her wavy locks rested on her shoulders. She wore blue jeans that hugged her body in a way that made the pants look much too small, and her tight white blouse was cut low on her chest, so low that Miriam felt uncomfortable. Her pink lipstick matched the beaded belt around her waist.
“Wie bischt, mei maedel?” At the sound of his voice, memories filled Miriam’s mind, but her heart beat with regret over Uncle Ivan’s choices. Lucy scowled, as if maybe she didn’t like him speaking their native dialect.
“I’m gut, Onkel Ivan.” Miriam fought the tremble in her voice as she glanced at Lucy. “Hello, Lucy.”
They’d all known the Englisch woman for years. Lucy’s mouth turned up at one corner. “Hello, Miriam. Who is your friend?”
Miriam looked at Shelby, whose arms were folded across her chest, her chin lifted higher than usual. Her cousin spoke before Miriam had a chance to. “I’m Shelby,” she said as she eyed Lucy with a critical squint. She looked back at Miriam. “We’re late. Don’t we need to go?”
“Uh, ya. We do.”
Whatever pride Miriam thought she saw moments before seemed to fade from her uncle’s expression. His eyelids drooped, and his shoulders slumped somewhat. He rubbed his shaven chin, and Miriam wondered if he was thinking about the times they’d spent together, regretting that he could no longer be a part of her life. Onkel Ivan was the first person to take her fishing when she was young, and they’d continued going as often as they could up until he left for Colorado. She’d missed those times together since he’d been back in Paradise. He locked eyes with her, and Miriam didn’t look away. Come back to us, Onkel Ivan.
“Take care, mei maedel.”
Miriam gave a quick nod, then turned away. She could hear Shelby’s boots clicking behind her as they moved through the door and to the parking lot. Miriam didn’t look back. She was sure Ivan and Lucy wouldn’t be there anyway, but she didn’t want Shelby to see her crying.
6
SHELBY HAD JUST FINISHED SETTING THE TABLE WHEN the first guests pulled into the driveway. Today she’d learned to make stromboli. One thing she had to admit, the food here was always great. Rebecca and Miriam were both good cooks, and Shelby thought she’d gained a pound or two over the past week. Though she enjoyed helping with supper, she still couldn’t seem to get out of bed early enough to help with breakfast.
“So they each pay fifteen dollars for the meal?” Shelby carried a loaf of buttered bread to the table and placed it between a jar of rhubarb jam and a bowl of chow chow. She loved the sweet rhubarb jam, but she wasn’t fond of the pickled vegetables they called chow chow.
“Ya,” Rebecca answered as she scurried past Miriam, toting a bowl of paprika potatoes.
Miriam placed the stromboli on the table next to a chicken casserole. There was also a bowl of creamed celery on the table, a plate of saucy meatballs, and something Miriam referred to as “shipwreck”—a casserole layered with potatoes, onion, ground beef, rice, celery, kidney beans, and tomatoes. It seemed an odd combination of offerings to Shelby, but her cousin had said that non-Amish folks expected to be served a variety of Amish dishes. And Rebecca had said these recipes were handed down from her mother. Even though Miriam told Shelby that pride was avoided in their community, Shelby could tell that Rebecca was proud of her cooking.
A spread of desserts beckoned from the counter: shoofly pie, whoopee pies, glazed apple cookies, and some molasses sugar cookies. Rebecca had been baking most of the day. Shelby wondered if it was worth it and quickly calculated fifteen times eight. She decided it probably was.
She heard footsteps coming up the porch steps.
“Don’t forget. As soon as the meal is over, show them to the den.” Rebecca gave instructions to Miriam as she pointed around the corner to the family room. Jams and jellies decorated with quilted doilies covered a long table against the far wall of the den. Shelby also noticed handwritten cookbooks, quilted pot holders, and individually wrapped whoopee pies.
“The Englisch love all that,” Miriam said to Shelby before she turned to her mother. “I will, Mamm.”
Rebecca crossed through the den and opened the door for the first of their guests. Shelby stayed in the kitchen with Miriam. She liked the way the kitchen was large enough for the long wooden table, unlike most homes she’d been in that had a separate dining room for such a large crowd. Their kitchen was the largest room in the house, much bigger than the family room, or den, as Rebecca called it. Shelby counted fifteen place settings. Each white china plate had a smaller white plate on top of it, a cloth napkin and silverware, and a glass already filled with ice water.
“Welcome to our home,” Shelby heard Rebecca say as she ushered the first two dinner guests to the kitchen. “This is my daughter, Miriam, and our cousin, Shelby.” Mamm paused as she turned to the older couple. “And, girls. . . this is Frank and Yvonne.”
“Nice to meet you,” Shelby said in unison with Miriam.
Rebecca excused herself when there was another knock at the door, and she returned with the other six dinner guests—two couples who looked to be in their thirties, and two older women who appeared to be together. Rebecca made introductions, then asked everyone to have a sea
t.
Shelby wasn’t sure what to do next, so she eased closer to Miriam and whispered, “What now?”
“Daed and the boys should be washing up outside at the water pump, then when they’re seated, we’ll sit down.”
Shelby nodded as she checked out their company. One of the younger couples began to sit down. Both were well dressed, the woman in a peach-colored skirt and matching blouse that looked more appropriate for church, and the man in black slacks, a starched white shirt, and a black and white tie with tiny red dots. Her eyes drifted to the younger couple already seated. Both wore blue jeans and matching red T-shirts that said Amish Dutch Country on the back with a picture of a horse and buggy. The man had been introduced as Bruce, and his dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail that hung a few inches down his back. His arms were folded across his chest as he eyed the offerings in front of him. Frank and Yvonne took their seats, as did the two older women who’d arrived together.
Shelby stepped aside when Miriam brushed past her carrying another plate of buttered bread, and a few moments later Aaron and the three boys joined them.
“If we could please all bow our heads for silent prayer,” Rebecca said after everyone was seated.
Shelby bowed her head, but she didn’t close her eyes and instead glanced around the table. Bruce didn’t bow his head or close his eyes, and when his eyes locked with Shelby’s, a chill ran up her spine. She was relieved when his wife raised her head and began talking to him, pulling the man’s dark, icy eyes away.
Rebecca identified the various dishes for their guests, then started passing bowls and platters to her left. “And please try some rhubarb jam on your bread if you’d like,” she said, smiling.
“This looks delicious, Rebecca.” Yvonne smiled as she passed the creamed celery to her husband.
Her sentiments were echoed throughout the group. All except for Bruce. There was something unsettling about him, and Shelby’s eyes kept veering in his direction. Bruce’s wife whispered to him several times, but she also commented to Rebecca about how good everything tasted.
“Why aren’t you dressed like them?”
Shelby almost lost her grip on the bowl of potatoes at the sound of Bruce’s gruff voice. “I’m not Amish. I’m their cousin, just visiting.”
He narrowed bushy brows as one corner of his mouth twitched. His wife elbowed him to accept the plate of bread that she was holding, and he looked away. She was relieved when the two elderly women took over the conversation and began asking lots of questions about Amish life.
“I read somewhere that Amish children only attend school through the eighth grade. Is that true?” The gray-headed woman named Mary smiled as she posed the question to Rebecca.
Rebecca swallowed and took a moment before she answered. “Ya. It’s true. We feel like that is enough education to prepare our young people for the type of work that we do.”
Mary nodded, then spoke directly to Miriam. “Honey, are you in your rumschpringe?”
Even though the woman seemed pleased with her use of the Pennsylvania Deitsch dialect, Shelby recognized the fact that she mispronounced the word. But Miriam just smiled and said, “Yes, ma’am. I’m eighteen, and at sixteen, we are given the freedom to explore the Englisch world so that when we choose to stay here, it’s not because we don’t know what life outside of our community is like.”
Bruce’s throaty chuckle reeked of cynicism before he said, “Surely you all get out of here as soon as you can.” He glanced around the room. “I mean, really. Who’d choose this life if they had a choice?”
His wife, a woman with shoulder-length blond hair, lowered her head, but Shelby saw her cheeks redden.
“I think I’d enjoy this life,” the woman in the peach-colored outfit said. “It’s so peaceful and without the distractions of our life—cell phones, tight schedules, and. . .” She paused and sat taller. “And the Amish have a strong faith in our Lord.”
“Whatever,” Bruce mumbled as he reached across his wife and scooped a large spoonful of chicken casserole from the dish. Rebecca shifted her weight in her chair and glanced at her husband. Shelby saw Aaron nod at her, as if they were having a secret conversation. . . one that perhaps they’d had before.
“Boys, finish up. You still have chores to finish.” Aaron spoke with authority to Elam, Ben, and James, who all nodded and began to eat faster. A few minutes later all three boys excused themselves and headed outside.
“Uh, excuse me. . .” Bruce’s wife glanced over Rebecca’s shoulder toward the den. “Is the bathroom that way?”
Rebecca pushed herself away from the table. “Ya. Of course. Follow me.”
“Nah, don’t get up. I’ll find it.” The woman hurriedly stood up, lifted one leg over the bench, then the other, and was heading across the den before Rebecca could argue.
Mary cleared her throat. “You have a lovely home, Rebecca. Thank you for having us for supper.” She smiled. “And this food is wunderbaar gut.” She nudged her friend, again proud of her use of the dialect.
“Danki,” Rebecca said as she glanced at Miriam, who lowered her eyes and grinned. Shelby would remember to ask both of them what was so amusing, even though Mary didn’t seem to notice.
When the main meal was over, Shelby and Miriam helped Rebecca clear the table, then they placed the desserts in the middle. They supplied fresh plates for everyone and served hot coffee. Shelby noticed that Rhoda—Bruce’s wife—wasn’t back from the bathroom.
“Do you think your wife is all right?” Shelby avoided the man’s eyes and glanced into the den.
“She’s fine.” He didn’t look up but instead helped himself to a generous supply of each dessert offered.
It was at least another five minutes before Rhoda returned, and she slipped in beside her husband. “You got enough there on your plate, Bruce?”
“For fifteen dollars, I’m having everything they put out.” He scowled at his wife.
“Everything is wonderful, Rebecca,” Mary said as she daintily picked at a piece of shoofly pie.
“Danki,” Rebecca answered again, smiling. “I’d like to invite you all into the den to look at our homemade jams and jellies. We also have cookbooks that include the recipes for everything you have eaten here tonight. And there are some other things that might interest you.” Rebecca motioned toward the table in the den.
“Don’t even think about buying any of that junk,” Bruce said to Rhoda, his forehead creasing as he spoke. Shelby watched Aaron take a slow, deep breath, but he didn’t say anything. Miriam lowered her eyes but stood by her mother as everyone but Bruce and Rhoda walked into the den.
Aaron stayed at the table with Bruce and Rhoda while Bruce loaded up on another round of desserts. Everyone else was gathering up jams, jellies, cookbooks, and quilted pot holders in the other room.
“Thanks for dinner,” Rhoda said a few minutes later as she and Bruce made their way across the den and toward the front door.
Rebecca quickly joined them, smiling. “Thank you for being a guest in our home.”
“Yeah,” Bruce said as he opened the door. “Come on, Rhoda.”
Rhoda gave Rebecca a weak smile and followed her husband.
After Bruce and Rhoda were out the door, Shelby whispered to Miriam, “I’m glad they’re gone.”
Aaron followed the couple out the door, and it wasn’t until tires met with the gravel road that Aaron came back in the house. He excused himself and thanked everyone for coming, then headed to the barn.
“I’m glad too,” Miriam finally said.
Once everyone had paid for their goods, they thanked Rebecca and headed to their cars. Rebecca dropped onto the couch the minute everyone was gone. She put her head in her hands, and Miriam sat down beside her mother. “What’s wrong, Mamm?”
Her mother didn’t look up but pointed to the oak china cabinet on the far wall, next to the table of jams, jellies, and such. Miriam stood up and walked toward the cabinet, then hung her head for a moment. “It�
�s okay, Mamm. We’ll get another one.”
“What?” Shelby walked to where Miriam was standing. “What’s wrong?”
“Mamm’s silver letter opener is gone.”
“Someone stole it?” Shelby was sure who the culprit was. “Was it worth a lot?”
Rebecca pulled her hands away from her face, then joined Miriam and Shelby by the china cabinet. She let out a heavy sigh. “No. It was only silver-plated, but it was a gift from my grandmother years ago. It was inscribed to me, from her. It said, ‘May all your letters be received with an abundance of love.’”
“Well, clearly that Rhoda woman took it when she went to the bathroom.” Shelby shook her head, then looked up at Rebecca. “Is anything else missing?”
Rebecca glanced around the den. “No.” She bit her bottom lip. “But the woman had to go down the hall to get to the bathroom, and she was gone a long time.” She started down the hallway, Miriam and Shelby following. All the bedrooms were upstairs. The downstairs consisted of the large kitchen, a nice-sized den, a mudroom, and a hallway to the bathroom with a closed door on each side. Shelby knew that one room housed a pedal sewing machine and quilting supplies, but she’d never been in the other room.
“There’s nothing missing in here,” Rebecca said after she scanned the sewing room. Then she went to the door on the other side and pushed it open. “Oh no.”
“What?” Shelby slid into the room with Miriam. “Rebecca, what is it?”
Rebecca walked to the middle of the room. There were racks and racks of jams, jellies, cookbooks, quilted pot holders, and other items marked with white price tags. “I left the cash box on the shelf.” She walked to a cigar box and lifted the lid, then slowly closed it.
“How much did they take, Mamm?”
Rebecca turned around, tears in her eyes. “Your daed told me I needed to get the money to the bank last week after the Mud Sale, but I just didn’t have time.”
Miriam put a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “How much, Mamm?”
Rebecca leaned her head back against her neck and closed her eyes. “A little over two thousand dollars.”