An Amish Picnic

by Amy Clipston

  “There’s nothing to take.”

  “Come now, surely you can admit that you’re not an easy person to get to know. Bart doesn’t usually have that problem. He’s a talker, but he expects the other person to talk back.”

  “He’s bossy.”

  Her chortle startled Mary, who fussed. “Hush, child, it’s only your mudder enjoying your onkel Jasper’s honesty.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “I married him. I don’t expect you to like him as much as I do.” Her nose wrinkled. “Whew, you need a diaper change. Mary, not you, Jasper. Oh, you mean that he’s bossy? Women are used to it. We’re taught early on to listen, be respectful, and follow our mann’s lead. Unless he’s doing something really stupid, then we work to fix it, but behind the scenes.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Women are wily like that. We know our place.” She stood for a second, then knelt on the pieced rug that stretched from one rocking chair to the other. She laid Mary in front of her and reached for the canvas bag next to her chair. “Okay, stinky girl, let’s get you changed. What’s bothering Onkel Jasper? Do you think he’ll tell us?” She cooed at the baby, who gurgled and flailed her arms. “Probably not. He’s a crotchety old man before his time.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too.”

  “Darcie!”

  “Come on, Bruder, I know something is bugging you. Let your big schweschder make it all better.”

  She was the one person in his life who seemed unfazed by his lack of social graces.

  “I don’t like working at the store. I’m not gut at it.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  She made quick work of the dirty diaper, but not before Jasper got a whiff of its contents. How could something so noxious come from such a sweet, tiny child? Having sons and daughters of his own was high on his list of goals that seemed far beyond his reach, but the silver lining might be not having to change diapers. Did Father change diapers? No memory of such an event rose to the surface in Jasper’s tired brain.

  “I don’t think so.” He told her about the fiasco with Mrs. Kowalski.

  “It’s okay to rely on Esther Marie’s help. She knows everything about everything when it comes to the store.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  Darcie looked up from the task at hand. Her slim brown eyebrows rose. Her lips turned up in a knowing smile. “Your face is turning red.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is too.” She tickled Mary’s cheek and cooed some more. “Jasper Cotter. You like Esther Marie.”

  “You’re narrish.”

  Darcie scooped up her baby and tucked Mary on her shoulder. She patted her back. “You like her, and knowing you, you don’t know what to do about it. You’ve never asked a girl to take a ride with you ever, have you?”

  She thought she was so smart. What he wouldn’t give to be able to refute her statement. “So what if I haven’t? I’ve been busy running the farm for Daed. I work hard. I’m tired at the end of the day.”

  Baby Mary burped and Darcie congratulated her as if she’d won a big race. “How long have you been pining for Esther Marie?”

  “Pining? Who said anything about pining? I just . . . think she’s a nice person who deserves . . . to be loved.”

  “And so do you my dear bruder.” Grinning, Darcie wiped spit-up from the baby’s face and her dress. “You do, even though you don’t think you do. Inside that crusty exterior lies a mushy heart dying for a soul mate.”

  “Soul mate?” Jasper clasped his hands to his ears and sang, “La, la, la, la!”

  “I know you can hear me. You just need a little advice from big sister.” She rocked Mary. The baby’s head sank to her shoulder. “Stop being gegisch and listen to me.”

  “Grrrrrr!”

  “And stop growling like an old grizzly.”

  He dropped his hands. “I’ve never been able to talk to girls. My mind goes blank and I sound like a mean, old fart.”

  She scrambled to her feet with the litheness of a young girl. “Hold Mary.”

  “I don’t know anything about babies.”

  “You better learn if you’re going to be a mann and a daed.”

  “Who said anything about being—?”

  “When you talk to Esther Marie, remind yourself that she is just as naerfich as you are. From what I’ve seen, she has no more experience courting than you do. Start by doing something nice for her.”

  “Like what?”

  “What does she like?”

  Jasper searched his memory. Back in school, he’d hung around the swing set and the ballfield, listening to the girls talk. Esther Marie rarely said much. As the years passed he watched her from afar at luncheons after church, the school picnics, and other district events. She smiled a lot, was quick to help, hardly ever sat still, and never said anything mean. Not many people could say that. “She likes jelly beans.”

  She’d been eating them in the deli today. He’d also seen her eating them at lunchtime one day. She sat on the bench outside the store munching on a peanut butter sandwich and picking through the jelly beans, eating the like colors together. She saved all the pink and purple ones for after she ate her apple. She’d seen him looking at her and turned as pink as the jelly beans.

  He probably had too. She probably thought he was spying on her.

  “That’s perfect. So does Mudder. Did you know she keeps a stash in her sewing basket?”

  “How would I know that?”

  “We’ll wrap some up in a pretty little handkerchief and tie it with a ribbon—”

  “Does that really sound like something I would do?”

  “Surprise her by doing something out of character. She’ll be so bowled over she won’t be able to say no when you ask her to take a ride with you.”

  He shouldn’t have told Darcie. His older sister was like a runaway mountain goat. Once she got started up the mountain, there was no stopping her, no matter how steep the terrain. “I’m not asking her to go for a ride.”

  “Oh yes you are. This evening. After supper.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “For a smart man, you are so dumb sometimes.”

  “Am not.”

  “Esther Marie is probably just as lonely as you are—”

  “Who said I was lonely?”

  “Stop interrupting. Anyone with eyes in her head can see you’re unhappy. That’s why you’re so grumpy. And Esther Marie is a sweet woman overlooked by most men because she stutters, and because she stutters, she doesn’t talk. Men don’t like that. They get nervous if they have to carry the conversation. She never had a chance, really. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. You two would be perfect together.”

  Darcie finally ran out of steam. Thankfully.

  “I can’t just show up at her house after what happened at work today.” He ran through the day’s remaining events in short order. “She probably wishes she could get a job anywhere but at the store—at least until Daed comes back.”

  “That’s not Esther Marie. She loves the store. She’ll stick it out for Mudder’s and Daed’s sakes. You still have time to show her you can be nice. You can be nice, Jasper, can’t you?”

  “I’m nice sometimes.”

  “Sure you are.” She scooted toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  His sister had lost her mind. Leaving Jasper with her baby proved it. “Where are you going? Don’t you want to take Mary with you?”

  “To get the jelly beans.”

  Jasper should never have let the cat out of the bag. He looked down at Mary. Sound asleep, she had no words of wisdom to offer. Having relieved herself of her noxious load, she smelled pretty good. What would it be like to be a father? To sit in his own rocking chair in his own house and rock his baby while his wife cooked supper?

  The aromas floating through the house would be that much more pleasing, no doubt. The knot of loneliness in the center of his chest would dissolve.
The sunrise would glow brighter and the stars more brilliantly on a clear, cold Montana night.

  He should never have told Darcie. His sister made it seem possible. She made it seem real. When it didn’t happen she would be disappointed, but he would collapse back into that perpetual state of aloneness. She had her husband and her three children, with more to come, no doubt. Stymied hope was better than shattered hope.

  The dinner bell rang. Mary started and opened her eyes wide. She stared up at him, her tiny pink lips turned down and trembling.

  “It’s me, Onkel Jasper.”

  She looked even more worried. “I promise not to drop you. You must promise not to cry.”

  Her lips puckered. Her tiny fisted hands waved until one of them landed close to her mouth. She sucked on it, and suddenly all was right with her world.

  “I found them.” Darcie dashed into the room, waving a bag of spicy jelly beans. “And I have a cute little hankie Kimberly embroidered.”

  “I’m not going.”

  Darcie patted his head. “Jah, you are, little bruder. Jah, you are.”

  Chapter 7

  Most people would consider laughter wafting from the open windows of their home a pleasant sound. In Esther Marie’s case it could only mean one thing. A setup. Esther Marie slowed her brisk pace along the sidewalk and up the steps. Her mother’s determined chortles sent dread spiraling through her. Laughter usually was a sign her mother or her father or both had invited someone to supper. A man-someone. They meant well.

  The result for her generally ranged from severe indigestion to a pounding headache. The desire to please the two sweet people who gave life to her vied with the certain knowledge that she would never find a husband who wanted to permanently yoke himself to a woman who needed five minutes to finish a sentence.

  Maybe if she were more pleasing to the eye. Plain men didn’t attach as much importance to looks, but they would be lying if they didn’t admit that looks played a part in that mysterious attraction called love. She had never experienced it, yet she knew exactly how it would feel. Warm, sweet, all-encompassing, a falling into a place where time had no meaning and the lines between two people blurred until they became one.

  The desire of her heart was to encounter that place, but cold, hard reality muttered in her ear daily: God’s will might be for her to be alone.

  Why? Wasn’t it enough that she was scrawny and pock-faced and she mangled two languages? She’d prayed and prayed for her stuttering to be cured. And yet, it persisted. God ignored her prayers for healing.

  Why?

  Her mother said God’s plan was still unfolding. In His time, not hers.

  But the facts spoke for themselves.

  Most of the men her age in this district were already married. Three older widowers had already been duly invited to the Shrock house and gone on their way, never to return for supper. They knew what Isaiah and Martha Shrock were trying to do and, for the most part, seemed willing to spend an evening trying to make conversation with Esther Marie over Nadine’s barbecued ribs, spicy barbecued beans, coleslaw, dill potato salad, and scrumptious lemon bars.

  It never went anywhere. The store remained her domain. The one thing she was good at. And now Jasper had taken over that domain. No one expected life to be fair, but sometimes, it rubbed her nose in its determination to be unfair.

  Maybe that’s why her parents didn’t give up. They knew how much she wanted what every Amish woman wanted—a husband and children. They turned a blind eye to the sad fact that this dream had passed their daughter by. They couldn’t fix it for her, no matter how hard they tried.

  Maybe she still had time to turn around and sprint the other direction. She could go to The Malt Shop and eat a banana split instead. The library on the high school campus had closed for the day. Maybe she could simply walk along the road, enjoying the gorgeous Mission Mountains until the sun went down and darkness hid her face as she slunk into her bedroom.

  “Esther Marie, there you are.” Father’s jovial voice boomed as he pushed open the screen door. “Get in here and say hello to Nicholas Kauffman.”

  The name didn’t ring a bell. Nicholas didn’t live in their district, so he probably didn’t know about her stutter. “Daed . . .”

  “I know, Dochder.” He winked and let the door close behind her. “We bought a saddle from him last year, remember? He lives out by Lewistown, but he’s thinking about moving this direction so he can work for the Millers at their leather shop. He handcrafts saddles.”

  Montanans held this skill in high esteem. Ranchers were willing to pay exorbitant amounts for saddles that stood up against the wear and tear of a working cowboy and his horse. “I’m s-s-s-sorry I’m l-l-l-late.” The word didn’t want to come out, which underscored what she meant to say. She was too tired to pause, breathe, and imagine the words. “It was a l-l-l-l-ong d-d-d-day.”

  The look on Nicholas’s face said it all. He grabbed his glass of iced tea and slurped down half of it. His expression evolved from a genuine smile coupled with curiosity to barely masked pity. “Don’t apologize for working hard. It’s a virtue.” He had a gruff voice that reminded her of her grandfather.

  Nicholas looked to be in his early forties. Silver strands streaked his temples. The glint in his blue eyes hinted at a sense of humor, but the lines around his mouth and eyes suggested hard times weathered. His chin was smooth shaven. He had never married. “I have had days like that.”

  Did those hard days have something to do with why he remained a bachelor at this stage of his life? It was rare in her community. Men and women were expected to marry, but sometimes circumstances didn’t allow for it. Caring for sickly parents. Caring for brothers and sisters after the death of a parent. Or maybe love simply passed him by when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t have an impediment like she did. Not one that showed, anyway.

  “Did something happen?” Mother stood at the door to the living room. Always more attuned to her children’s moods, she never missed a sign of trouble. “Is everyone all right at the store?”

  “F-F-F-ergie had a heart at-t-t-t-tack.” Esther Marie squeezed past Father so she could edge toward the kitchen. “He’s in the h-h-h-hospital.”

  “Ach. The poor man. He’s so young.” Mother’s gaze flew to Father. Fergie and he were the same age. While Fergie’s shape resembled a large hard-boiled egg, Father’s frame tended toward flat as a screen door. Where Fergie tended toward baldness that would one day make him look like that same egg, Father’s iron-gray hair ran wild. His locks stood up and waved at each other. “I’ll make a breakfast casserole and run it over to their house. She’ll need help with the laundry and cleaning while he’s laid up.”

  “Their dochders will fill in.” Father never ceased to be the eternal optimist. “I reckon Jasper has the store under control.”

  Of course. Esther Marie bowed her head and nodded. “H-H-He’s in ch-ch-charge.” Never mind the scene with Mrs. Kowalski. Never mind the angst over a phone call to an electrician. Never mind Jasper’s sad eyes. Never mind her four years of experience learning every facet of the grocery store business. She could reel off the price of every bulk item. She knew how much inventory they had for all the sewing goods. She could recite every flavor of ice cream served in the deli.

  And customers liked her.

  Pride went before a fall.

  “The lasagna is ready.” Mother called over her shoulder as she bustled away. “Lulu set the table. Help us serve. Nicholas must be starving.”

  Ignoring the urge to flee, Esther Marie did as Mother asked. Supper was a lively affair with the boys arguing over who caught the biggest fish at the pond earlier in the day and her younger sister giving a detailed account of the birth of a foal at her friend Jennie’s house. Nicholas ate heartily but said little, despite Father’s attempts to draw him out. Esther Marie pushed food around on her plate and calculated how much turkey, chicken, beef, pastrami, and ham she needed to order the next day. To that she added a running total o
f the ice cream lost in the broken refrigerator case. More needed to be ordered as well.

  Finally Mother scooted back her chair and stood. “It’s so warm in here. Why don’t you and Nicholas go out and sit on the porch, Isaiah. With any luck there will be a breeze. Esther Marie can bring you a piece of her apple pie and some more iced tea. She picked the apples herself from the trees in the backyard.”

  Mother made it sound as if this was a wonderous feat.

  “I’m full to my eyeballs.” Nicholas laughed and tossed his napkin on the table. “But I reckon I can find room for a small piece of pie.”

  In the kitchen Mother slid generous slices of pie onto two plates and handed them to Esther Marie along with forks. “Go.”

  “Mudder.”

  “I know you love me and your daed, but I don’t think you want to live with us when we’re old and cranky. Better to have your own cranky mann than to take care of my grumpy mann.”

  True, but it had to be the right man for the job, and Nicholas was not that man. Esther Marie trudged out to the porch. Nicholas had chosen a rocking chair instead of the swing. Father was nowhere in sight.

  “Isaiah said he forgot to do something in the barn. He’ll be right back.” Nicholas took the pie with a quick “thank you” and laid the accompanying napkin on his lap. “He also said to tell you he’s too full for pie, so you could eat his piece if you want.”

  Ha. Could Father be more obvious? Esther Marie attempted to hide her consternation. Nicholas’s half smile said he knew exactly how she felt. Esther Marie summoned a smile. A person never had an excuse for being rude. “I hop-p-pe you like the p-p-pie. The apples are from t-t-t-trees in our b-b-b-backyard.”

  Mother had already said that. Embarrassment added to the heat.

  He took a quick bite and moaned. “Very gut. It reminds me of my mudder’s. She was a gut cook.”

  “She p-p-p-passed?”

  “A few years ago.” He settled back into his chair and proceeded to demolish the pie. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”

  She eased onto the top porch step and turned so she could lean against the railing. Once settled, she made sure her long skirt touched her dirty white sneakers on all sides. “I’m n-n-n-not hungry.”