by Amy Clipston
And, it seemed, she needed Jasper to notice her. She didn’t want to delve into why.
If she couldn’t admit the truth to herself, she was in deep trouble. It wasn’t about the store. Jasper rarely said much to other people, but when he saw people being ugly to her, he spoke up. He stepped up. He made her feel protected, even when she didn’t need it.
“I put the rest of the new stock in with the frozen meals and pizzas.” Kevin parked his squeaky four-wheel dolly next to Esther Marie. He glanced at his watch. “I really have to go before customers start calling the boss. People get crazy when they run out of ice cream.”
“I b-b-be-lieve it.” Esther Marie wiped her hands on a paper towel and took the pen he offered her. A quick signature and their business was finally done. “S-S-S-orry about m-m-m-making you do s-s-s-so much w-w-w-ork.”
“What are friends for?” Kevin had a sunny smile and a sunny disposition, yet nothing about him caused Esther Marie to think about him after he disappeared from sight. He came. He went. Right now, he needed to go. “Do you have your next order written out, or do you want to have Mr. Big call me?”
A laugh burbled up in Esther Marie. “Mr. Big. Very good.” Four whole words without a stutter. When she relaxed she didn’t do badly. Even though the store had a website maintained by an outside company, Fergie drew the line at having the internet in the store. Rather, the Gmay drew the line and Fergie agreed. Esther Marie’s opinion didn’t count. “We w-w-w-ill c-c-call.”
His whistle mingling with the dolly’s squeaky wheels, Kevin ambled away.
Esther Marie spent another fifteen minutes moving ice cream sandwiches, Popsicles, Fudgsicles, frozen yogurt, and frozen nondairy ice cream products into open nooks and crannies in the other freezers. Their new homes had no rhyme or reason. Customers would be up in arms when they couldn’t find their favorite cold sweet treat. It couldn’t be helped. She glanced at the clock overhead. Almost four. She needed to get those sandwiches made for Mrs. Lowell. The girl working the deli had to focus on the customers in front of her.
She picked up the heavy-duty black trash bag. Her muscles strained. A lot of product had been lost to this small fiasco. Would Fergie want the number of ice cream units counted for sake of the inventory? They sold tons of ice cream in the summer, but not this much. The inventory wouldn’t match. She set the bag back down.
Static burst forth from her walkie-talkie. “Esther Marie, come to the office. Esther Marie, come to the office.”
Apparently Jasper thought comments over the radio were similar to those done over a loudspeaker. She stifled a giggle. He might want to speak to her in private so he could berate her for making him look bad in front of Kevin. Her lighthearted giggles subsided. Or maybe he wanted to rehash the disagreement with Mrs. Kowalski. Either way, she could hold her own in the discussion—if she didn’t stutter so much. “On my w-w-w-way.”
“Bring Rachel.”
Rachel’s red face and frown spoke volumes about her desire to go to the office with Esther Marie. “Why does he want me?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go find out.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Rachel rushed around the wooden counter. She stubbed her toe on the corner, screeched, danced around for a second on one foot, then stumbled alongside Esther Marie. “I’ve been dusting the displays and straightening the cookbooks between customers. I’m keeping busy.”
“It’s prob-b-ably nothing.” It’s probably all to do with me. “Don’t w-w-w-worry.”
“Easy for you to say.” Rachel smirked. “Jasper likes you.”
“He d-d-d-does n-n-ot.” Not in a million years did Jasper like her. He’d never asked her to take a buggy ride with him. To be fair, he never asked any girl to take a ride. He never even made small talk. Which made sense because making conversation with a person who stuttered was no fun for even the most patient person. Jasper had patience for allowing her to finish her sentences, but it was possible he didn’t start conversations to avoid all the waiting. “You are d-d-d-d-d-aft-t-t-t.”
“He likes you. That’s why you make him so nervous. He doesn’t know what to say to you.”
“I d-d-d-on’t b-b-b-elieve you.”
“Try talking to him about something besides work sometime.” Rachel’s worried look had disappeared for a second. Then it reappeared. “Let me know how it goes if I get fired. I’ll be at home.”
Nothing else needed to be said about this ridiculous topic. Fortunately the later-afternoon lull had started. No customers waited at the registers. This would be true until people started dropping in on their way home from work. Esther Marie took a quick peek at the deli. Martha was busy chopping vegetables for prepackaged salads. It would be nice to compliment her on her industriousness, but Esther Marie didn’t have time. Others could throw a quick kind word over their shoulders. For her it would be a laborious, painful process. Instead, she waved and kept going.
Fergie’s small, neat office was even tinier with Rachel, Jasper, and Esther Marie crowded around the desk. Jasper stood despite the serviceable office chair. He stared at the Rolodex, which he had pulled forward so it sat directly in the middle of the scarred walnut desk, as if it might uncoil and strike him like a poisonous snake.
“We’re here.” Rachel scooted closer to Esther Marie. She tucked her hands behind her back like a schoolgirl getting ready to recite her multiplication tables. “Esther Marie said you wanted to see me.”
To be able to talk like that, one smooth, pearly word after another strung together. Esther Marie’s throat ached with the desire. The speech therapist said it did happen as children matured into adults. Sometimes. Esther Marie had not been one of those blessed with a miraculous clarity of speech.
I know it’s not mine to ask why, Gott. But a girl can’t help but wonder. The words of a scripture her father often quoted to her when she begged him to explain her plight came to mind. “Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him” (James 1:12 kjv).
As a child she had no idea what that meant. Mother said it meant she should hang in there and love God just the way she was. So she had and she did. “Jah, w-w-we are here.”
Jasper crossed his arms. He had the start of a paunch that would someday look like Fergie’s more well-fed belly. He shifted his feet. His gaze moved from the Rolodex to Esther Marie. “I want you to get the number for the electrician and give it to Rachel so she can call him.”
At least forty minutes had passed since Jasper strode from the ice cream aisle to the office to make this call. What had he been doing all that time? Esther Marie opened her mouth. She closed it. This was a delicate situation. A Plain woman who never used a phone as a child and rarely as an adult knew how intimidating this instrument of torture could be. Add a stutter to the mix and it was impossible. Esther Marie tried never to be in the office alone. If the phone rang she would have to answer it. She had on more than one occasion, and it had been excruciating. The callers often couldn’t understand her, and they couldn’t imagine why a place of business would have a person with a speaking disability answer the phone.
Jasper didn’t stutter. The phone probably didn’t even bother him. The person at the other end of the line did.
Making him feel worse about it served no purpose. Esther Marie picked up the Rolodex and spun it around to the e’s. Fergie liked to keep things simple. The cards of his two favorite electricians were missing. “D-D-D-id you c-c-c-c-all?” She pointed to the cards lying next to Fergie’s favorite Montana state coffee cup. “Either one is gut-t-t-t.”
“One, a voice was talking, but when I tried to answer, it was a recording. I tried to leave a message but it hung up on me.” He rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. “The other number no one answered.”
That was Coop Parker. He was a jack-of-all-trades, but his electrical work was first rate. He figured if people really needed him they would call back.<
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Esther Marie handed the cards to Rachel. She frowned. “Why don’t you call?”
“Because she stutters.” Jasper’s exasperation crowded the room. He threw his hands up and plopped into the chair. “I’d rather she did it. She knows what she’s doing. I don’t. But I can’t expect her to make a call, can I?”
That had to be the nicest backhanded compliment anyone had ever paid her. He probably didn’t even realize what a compliment it was.
Rachel grabbed the cards. “Silly me. I forget sometimes that other people aren’t used to the way you talk.”
It would be nice if everyone in the world had Rachel and Jasper’s attitude. “T-T-ry C-C-C-oop first.”
This time the electrician answered. Rachel got to the crux of the situation quickly, and within minutes the store was on his list of stops for the next morning.
“You can go back to work, Rachel.” Jasper wore his relief like a sweat-soaked shirt. “Can you wait a minute, Esther Marie?”
With her back to Jasper, Rachel mouthed good luck and stuck her tongue out at Esther Marie before she left the office. In the interest of decorum she left the door open. Did the office seem warmer than it had a minute before?
She waited. Jasper shuffled through papers on the desk. He snatched a pencil from a plastic cup and let it hover over a row of numbers on a spreadsheet. It looked like a summary of expenses for the month. Reading upside down was one of Esther Marie’s secret talents.
Her armpits were beginning to sweat. Her hair felt wet under her prayer kapp. Here she stood alone with a man she couldn’t fathom but often thought about right before she went to sleep at night, and he seemed to be ignoring her. “I have to m-m-m-ake M-M-Mrs. Lowell’s s-s-s-sandwiches.”
He dropped the pencil and leaned back in the chair. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry for making her wait? “It’s ok-k-k-ay. I still have t-t-t-time.”
“Not about that. About Mrs. Kowalski.” His deep voice seemed to get lower and lower. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
Admitting he was wrong probably felt as good as fire ants in his boots. “It’s ok-k-ay.”
What if Rachel was right? Maybe she should try to talk to him. Easy for Rachel to say. Talking never worked out for Esther Marie. She edged toward the door. “I want to help-p-p-p you.”
“Danki, but if I need help, I’ll let you know.”
“Everybody n-n-n-n-eeds help-p-p-p s-s-s-sometimes.”
His gaze meandered from the desk to her face to the wall behind her. “If Daed can run a store, so can I. I’m not stupid.”
She never, ever thought Jasper was anything but smart. Too smart for his own good. In school he always got his arithmetic problems right, and when he read aloud, he never messed up the English words. “I didn’t s-s-s-ay—”
The phone rang. The shrill sound made them both jump.
One ring, two, three. Jasper stared at it as if mesmerized. Esther Marie caught her breath and reached for it. Jasper pushed her hand away. A gentle but firm rebuff.
He picked up the receiver and reeled off the store’s name. “Jah. Jah. Gut. Gut. Jah. Ach. I will. Guder daag.”
He sat with the receiver in his hands for several seconds. Esther Marie finally took it from him and laid it in the cradle. This time he didn’t object.
“Your daed?”
“Jah. He’s out of surgery. They did what they had to do.” Jasper mopped his face with a faded-blue bandana. He cleared his throat. “He’ll be gut as new, but he has to stay in the hospital for two or three days.”
A long time for a man like Fergie to be confined to a bed. He would not like the hospital. If he didn’t have Lucy’s biscuits and gravy, her fried chicken, her cherry pie, and her fried potatoes, he would be unhappy. He would grouse and grumble and complain to anyone who would listen.
“Gut. He will be back at w-w-w-ork-k-k-k s-s-s-oon.”
“Bart says he cannot return to work for at least another two weeks after he gets out.”
Jasper sounded the same way Esther Marie felt. Sad. And nervous.
Even a few days was too much.
Jasper stared at her. Esther Marie forced herself not to lower her gaze. The pulse jumped in his jaw. No matter how hard he tried to hide his consternation, his eyes gave him away. Jasper was afraid.
“He’ll be fine.” A sudden powerful urge to comfort him filled Esther Marie. How did a woman do that for a grown man? Her little brothers only needed a smile and a pat on the back. A hot peanut butter cookie fresh out of the oven and a glass of milk might be necessary if the hurt turned out to be more egregious. When they were younger, she even got away with a hug now and again before they broke loose and ran away, hooting about girl cooties. But a grown man—not a family member—mustn’t be touched.
“The doct-t-t-ors in M-M-Missoula are gut-t-t-t.” He would be right as rain before they knew it. The words were too hard. If only they would tumble out with no effort the way they did for other people.
The emotions on Jasper’s face faded. He fiddled with the pencil. “You’re right. He’ll be fine, Gott willing.” A careful blank look slid into place. “I better get to work. This deposit needs to be totaled. And you have sandwiches to make.”
Esther Marie backpedaled to the door. Words were not the only way to help him. Doing her best work would make his life easier. Keeping the store spic-and-span, the shelves stocked, and the customers happy. She excelled at these tasks. As she would at running the store. If only Jasper could see that. He could go back to the farm and leave her to do what she did best. A default job, true, but the only one open to her when no man stepped forward willing to put up with a bride who stuttered.
“Jah. If you n-e-e-ed anything, c-c-c-call me on the r-r-r-adio.”
He didn’t look up. “Danki, I won’t.”
Two weeks stretched before Esther Marie like an eternity.
Chapter 6
Plain women believed in the healing power of food as the answer for all forms of trauma. The tantalizing aroma of hamburger, onion, and garlic frying greeted Jasper when he tromped through the kitchen door of the only home he’d known in his twenty-five years. Despite the deep-seated desire to have time alone to contemplate all the ways he’d fallen short today—especially when it came to Esther Marie—Jasper managed a smile. The food smelled good. His stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Aenti Callie stood at the counter chopping tomatoes. With the exception of her still-blonde hair, she could’ve been Mother’s twin. Plump and sweet with a splash of vinegar.
“You’re here. I’m making tacos for supper.” She waved a knife precariously close to his nose. “Lois brought stuffed shells. Maisie dropped off a tuna-noodle casserole. Cora brought an elk roast. There’s a bunch of stuff. I put them in the freezer. Lucy can pull them out as needed.”
“Sounds good.”
“You’re here! I washed towels and hung them on the line.” Hannah, Callie’s middle daughter, strolled through the kitchen with an empty laundry basket swinging from one hand. Her face was flushed with sun and heat, but her smile widened. “I’ll have the pants done in a few minutes.”
“Gut. Mudder will appreciate the help.” He appreciated it too. “Did Bart call here?”
“Nee, but Darcie came home. She’s in the living room.” Aunt Callie made shooing motions. Again the knife strayed dangerously close to his body. “Go say hello. She can fill you in. But don’t go too far. Supper will be ready in two and a half shakes. If you’re good you can have some of the apple pie I made with ice cream.”
“My favorite.”
“I know.” Her sympathetic smile only made her look more like his mother. “After the day you’ve had, I figured you could use it.”
Jasper shuffled into the living room. His whole body screamed with exhaustion. This day had refused to end. He would still be at the store, but Esther Marie had insisted on closing up. She had finished the sandwiches for Mrs. Lowell and said she needed to do a quick inventory in order
to prepare a list of items needed for one of their vendors. Leaving while she was still there felt wrong, but she insisted. She practically pushed him out the door.
Darcie was nursing her baby. She cuddled the tiny girl under a lightweight crib quilt. Darcie wore her childbearing well. She’d received all the best attributes of their parents. Father’s auburn hair, Mother’s blue eyes, average height, but slim as Mother must have been before her years of childbearing. Her peaches-and-cream skin glowed with health. She looked up and smiled Mother’s sweet smile. “You made it. How are things at the store?”
“How is Daed?”
“Weak, disoriented, peeved, but he’ll be fine.” Darcie adjusted something under the blanket and brought little Mary out from under it. The baby’s face was pink with heat and exertion. Her lips were bright red. Her forehead furled, and she squawked. “You’re okay little piggy. You’ve had enough. Time for a burp and a diaper change. He wants to come home immediately. The doctor just smiled and shook his head.”
Jasper plopped into the rocker on the other side of the huge stone fireplace that dwarfed the room. “And Mudder?”
“A rock as usual. She’s worrying about everyone else. She told me to come here to make sure you and the kinner get supper. Of course, the women have taken care of that. Callie even cleaned the bathrooms and swept the whole house.”
The men would take care of the chores on the farm too. That’s what Plain communities did. “You probably need to get home to make supper for your mann.”
“Bart is coming here after he stops by the dairy.”
Bart was one of several Plain men who worked at an Amish-owned dairy in St. Ignatius.
“No need for that.”
“Don’t try to hide that you don’t like him.” Her chuckle held the faintest note of sarcasm. “He means well. He just doesn’t know how to take you.”