After filling a tray with pies ready for the fryer, Betsy looked up and caught his glance, her cheeks blooming a shade of pink, her fresh complexion complementing her wide smile. Then she looked at who stood next to him, and her smile drifted away.
“No news, huh?” Ephraim whispered in his ear. “A lot has happened in a few weeks, and we need to talk.”
“I don’t think we do,” he muttered back at his brother.
“You’d be better off talking to me than our father, or the bishop. People are giving you more leeway, especially after Rebecca’s accident. But she’s healing, and you need to get your family set straight again. And soon. Is Zeke even in school?”
“Not yet.” He tugged at his collar.
“You know they have plenty of room for him at Sunnyside’s Mennonite school.”
“I know. I’ve been meaning to enroll him. I promise. I’ll see about it first thing Monday.” Of course, there were three physical therapy appointments for Rebecca next week, too. “It’s just been easier, having him stay at home.”
“Katie and I could always take him back to Ohio with us.”
“No, but thank you.” Ever since Hannah, he’d been ever vigilant about keeping the three of them together, as much as possible. Maybe it wasn’t practical, but at least no one was questioning that decision he’d made.
Fortunately, the conversation drifted away from his unmarried state, for now. But they stood waiting for barbecue and fried catfish plates, they made an unlikely group with Natalie and her boss tacked onto their line.
“She’s such a natural with children,” he heard Grace telling Katie behind him. “I count it a blessing every day she’s at my school. She helps those children do things acrobatically they never dreamed they could do. And with such confidence.” Grace shot a grin at Jacob when he glanced over his shoulder.
“I never imagined aerial silks, or circus performing, could help a child in such a way,” Katie said.
“It’s amazing. Some children with discipline problems or academic issues, well, it can be the key to their learning. My husband and I founded the school, but I’m glad we have Natalie on our staff with us.”
Yes, it was good to have Natalie with them, Jacob allowed himself to admit. If only for his children, he ought to thank Gotte for bringing her their way. As soon as Natalie found her family, she’d likely drift out of their lives. It was only appropriate, with him and the children heading back to Ohio.
Eight weeks. He gave them eight more weeks. Then, life could be normal again. As normal as it could get, anyway.
13
Betsy wiped her damp brow with the top of her arm. Nobody had told her how warm the food tent could get in January. But then, she’d never stood under a gigantic food tent before and helped fill hundreds of fried pies. The Ohio cooking team from her home district made them fresh, with a choice of fillings.
Fried pies were nice, but the next time she cooked a dessert, she wanted to try something a little different. Like cannolis or tiramisu, for example. Nobody ever heard of an Amish woman who could make delectable desserts worthy of a five-star restaurant.
Jacob passed by with his family, little Rebecca now hobbling along with crutches, easier to negotiate the grassy area outside than using a wheelchair. There were plenty of tables and chairs, if Rebecca needed a breather.
Natalie Bennett hovered along with the family, this time accompanied by an older Englisch woman who looked fancy, even in her simple outfit. Why didn’t Natalie just go away somewhere, somewhere besides visiting among the Plain people? There was nothing wrong with Natalie searching for her family, but why latch onto the Millers?
Betsy bit her lip. The woman was a distraction to Jacob. She could tell. Ephraim spoke to him, but Jacob’s focus kept drifting to Natalie, who was oblivious of the effect she was having on the poor man. If only she had whatever quality Natalie had, that would make Jacob follow her every gesture and listen to every word, even though he wasn’t part of the conversation.
“Uh, Betsy, we need three blueberry and two lemon, not five chocolate pies.” Vera Troyer pointed at the pies Betsy had just dropped into the bubbling fryer.
“Oh, no.” She glanced at Vera, then toward the waiting customers who’d paid for the pies. “I’ll remake them right away. I’m sorry.”
“No worries.” Vera smiled. “Chocolate pies are popular; they’ll be purchased before they’re cool.”
Betsy blamed Natalie Bennett for her own distraction and messing up the order. So Natalie was looking for her Amish family. Betsy would do what she could to help Natalie in her mission. The sooner Natalie found her family, the sooner she could go on with her own life, apart from the Millers.
There they went, settling down at one of the long narrow tables lined with folding chairs. Her own stomach growled. The Stoltzfus family outside the other edge of the tent, were frying up hundreds of pounds of catfish, caught fresh in Mississippi and transported to Florida in time for the auction weekend.
“Are you all right?” Vera asked as she used the skimmer to pluck the fresh pies from the oil and put them on a rack to drain.
“I’m okay.” Betsy snapped her attention back to the pies. There she went again, letting Natalie and the Millers drag her focus away. Vera’s probing eyes didn’t miss much, either.
“Huh.” Vera smiled at a customer and handed them a plate of still-warm pies. “There you go, thank you very much.”
Betsy stirred the apple filling, which didn’t need any stirring at all. Vera might be one of her Aenti Chelle’s older friends in the village, but Betsy didn’t need any advice. Of course, she had a feeling she’d be getting some straightaway.
“It must be hard, being so far away from your family,” Vera said.
“No, not most days. I do enjoy living with my aenti. Pinecraft is different, but I like it very much. We’re very busy with the cleaning business, so I’m glad I can be a help to her.”
“So, is there anyone back in Ohio? Do you have a young man?”
“No, there’s no one.” Not in Ohio. But she didn’t tell Vera that.
“Oh, I know sometimes you’ll wonder when it’ll be your turn.” Vera said. “I thought the same thing, myself. My time would never come. Gotte has His ways that we don’t often understand. It’s not always meant for us to understand.”
“How old were you when you married?” Maybe she could take the focus off herself.
“Twenty-five. Not old, but not as young as some.” Vera shook her head. “I think young women are in too much of a hurry now. Once your vows are taken, there’s no going back to the life of not being the lady of the house, of not having as much responsibility. It’s one thing to help your mother, quite another to be in charge of everything.”
“Ach, I see. That’s why I’m spending time in Florida right now.”
“Gut.” Vera studied the line, which had shortened. “Go, take a break and get a bite of lunch. I can fry and serve at the same time.”
Released from her duties for the moment, Betsy fled in the direction of the food tables. She had ten dollars in her dress pocket and an appointment with a fried catfish plate.
So far, so good. Natalie smiled. Grace had toned down “spotlight Grace” for today, but she still held the group’s attention as she told them stories of touring with the Ringling Brothers circus many years ago.
Natalie took another bite of delightful “cowboy stew,” a combination of beans and seasoned meat, with a recipe known only by an Old Order Amish man named Henry. Reportedly, he made buckets and buckets of the stew every year for the auction. She could eat several bowls of the stuff, if she let herself. She followed the bite of stew with a nibble of cornbread.
She’d situated herself at the opposite end of the table from Jacob, which sat her away from the children, but closer to Katie and Jacob’s brother Ephraim.
“Any news on your family?” asked Katie.
“Not yet,” Natalie replied. “Imogene Brubaker suggested I write an ad for The
Budget, which I’ve done, and it should run next week.”
“Which edition?” Ephraim spoke to her directly for the first time.
“The national edition. I always thought my mother’s family was from Ohio, like she said, but maybe they moved to Indiana or Ohio. Or, maybe somewhere else.”
“That might be. But even still, someone may know where her family is even if they’ve moved. That’s a good idea, running an ad in the national edition,” said Ephraim. “It will receive much more exposure that way.”
A rustle of fabric at her right elbow made her look up. Betsy Yoder stood by the table with a plate of food. “Is anyone sitting here in this seat?”
Natalie glanced at the empty chair next to her. “No, not at all.”
Betsy set the plate down and pulled out the chair, then sat beside Natalie. “I know you’re looking for your grandparents, and I want to help.”
Now, this was something Natalie hadn’t imagined happening. “We were just talking about it, so thank you. I took out an ad in The Budget.”
“What did you write?” Betsy asked.
“I said, ‘Searching for Samuel and Anna Yoder, possibly of Ohio, with a daughter named Katie. Please contact Natalie Bennett.’ I gave her birth date and my phone number.” Natalie shrugged. “So I hope someone, somewhere will call me. Of course, I’ve prepared myself for the possibility they might not want to meet me.”
The admission, again made aloud, made her cheeks burn.
“I can’t imagine someone not wanting to meet you,” said Betsy. “You’re—you’re interesting, kind, and you were brought up well, and I know you are a Christian.”
Natalie nodded. “But I’m not Amish. I’m not very Plain, either.”
Katie spoke up. “Ach, Natalie, you aren’t so much different from us on the inside. I can tell from the few conversations we’ve had, and how my mammi has spoken of you. I’m praying you have a fruitful quest.”
“Me, too,” said Betsy. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to call and leave a message for my father tonight, to see if he can call me on our district phone line. Maybe your daadi Samuel Yoder is a distant cousin of his. What if we’re almost like, cousins?”
“Thank you, thank you very much. I appreciate it.” She felt an urgency, a craving to find where she fit, when for years she hadn’t known the place. Despite Katie’s assurances otherwise, Natalie still felt as if she was on the outside looking in.
“Here’s my phone number,” Betsy said, holding out a business card. “Call me, so I’ll have your number and we can keep in contact.”
“All right, I’ll call you.” Natalie studied the card. Cleaning With Chelle – Betsy Yoder, Associate.
“Betsy Yoder, you have a cell phone?” Katie set down her fork and stared at the card in Natalie’s hand.
“For work. Aenti Chelle has one, too. She uses it for her clients so they can reach her and leave messages. So that’s why I have one.” Betsy’s chin stuck out.
“Does your mother know?” Ephraim asked.
“N—no. I don’t use it to be frivolous or waste time. It helps me with my schedule, too.”
Natalie felt sorry for the young Amish woman, almost squirming under the line of questioning.
“This is why we must be careful, coming to Pinecraft.” Ephraim frowned. “I am glad we only visit during the winter for a few weeks.”
Natalie opened her mouth, then decided against it. It wasn’t her place to pick sides or voice an opinion. Such matters were the group’s concern. She shifted on her folding chair. No, she didn’t think she could be a part of this group.
Laughter echoed down the table in their direction.
“And that’s when I knew, I wanted to spend a career as a trapeze artist, and not as a high-wire walker,” said Grace. Always sure of herself, no matter what the occasion or setting.
Natalie nibbled the last bite of flaky catfish. Lord, help me find my place. With or without my grandparents, with or without the family I’ve dreamed of having. Help Betsy, too. If she and Jacob are meant for each other, so be it. I won’t stand in the way.
14
Natalie’s fingers ached from repeated jabs from the quilting needle, and she and Rachel had only spent two hours quilting after breakfast on Monday morning. “Remind me, Rachel, why I’m doing this.”
“To finish what your mother started,” was all Rachel told her.
“My fine motor skills have always been lacking.” Natalie studied the row of tiny stitches she’d just completed. “I’ve always been more, uh, athletic and active instead of doing things like this fine work.”
“Needlework plays an important role. Years ago, it was all women had, Plain or otherwise, before clothing stores sold everything. And not nearly as well crafted, in my opinion.” Rachel worked her needle in a slow, yet steady, rhythm across the fabric.
The quilt top, once pieced and stitched together in a quilted sandwich of fabric and batting, would easily cover a queen-size bed. Maybe the pattern wasn’t as intricate and well-stitched as the quilt now covering the bed in Grace’s guest room, but Natalie imagined her mother cutting the blocks of cloth for the pattern and stitching them together, along with the ambitious appliques of roses and leaves and vines.
“I would have made a lousy pioneer,” Natalie said. “I like conveniences such as pre-sewn clothing and bedding.”
“Me too. Don’t tell anyone, but Vera Byler has been sewing my dresses for years. I order them from her and she ships them to me. I can put in a quilts, no problem, but piecing shoulders and sleeves together.” At that, Rachel chuckled at her own words. “When Isaiah and I . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“No, it’s okay. When you and Isaiah what?”
“When we first moved here to Pinecraft, the streets weren’t even paved. People thought we were crazy, spending winters here after our children grew up.” Rachel sighed. “I never imagined . . .”
She fell silent, and Natalie stitched almost half of one side of a block before speaking. “I know, we never imagine people we love, leaving us before their time.”
“Oh, it was his time. Gotte decided his days were finished on this earth.” Rachel continued stitching. “I never imagined time passing so quickly. Seems we were just setting up house. Did you know, he helped build some of the houses in the neighborhood? Pinecraft may look like a hodgepodge of homes, but some of the original homes are still here.”
“How did Zeke do, heading to school this morning?” She had to ask. Neither of the children, nor Jacob were there when she arrived midmorning. It was just Rachel, sipping a cup of coffee and eating a slice of toast alone.
“Ah, he cried over breakfast. But Jacob wouldn’t back down, especially since he had to take Rebecca to her appointment this morning.”
“It must be tough for Zeke, being far from home for so long, with so much focus put on Rebecca after the accident.”
“He’s a good boy,” was all Rachel said. “His daed has done a good job teaching him. You’ve done him some good as well. Ever since meeting you, it seems he has come out of whatever shell he entered after his mamm’s death. Always, ‘Miss Natalie’ this and that.”
Natalie nodded. She’d grown to love the Miller children, much as it wasn’t her place. Come spring, they’d be gone and she’d be here, with or without her own family.
“I’m going to miss them when they leave Sarasota,” she said aloud.
“I am, too,” said Rachel. “But there will be and always is much for me to do here. Same for you, I imagine?”
“Yes, my classes. I have a one o’clock adult class beginning today, plus three classes after three today.” She certainly didn’t suffer for lack of things to do.
“Promise me you’ll come visit?”
“I will. I’d like that.” Natalie kept stitching. Ow. There went the needle again, bypassing the leather finger guard Rachel had shown her how to use.
“There’s talk, too, Rebecca can go to school with her brother, possibly starting next week,
” said Rachel. “I think it’s a good idea. The child will only get bored around here and she can’t get up and around and do housework. And the chatter! Much as I love them under my roof, I must admit the quiet this morning has been pleasant.”
Except for Isaiah’s place at the table being permanently vacant.
“I think she should be as mobile as she can, and do as much as she can.” Natalie hoped she wasn’t overstepping, giving her opinion. “From someone who’s had surgery that interfered with mobility, I know. It was hard, and it hurt sometimes, but I did it, anyway.”
They kept sewing in silence. By the time their allotted hours were completed, Rachel had finished half of one block, Natalie had outlined one rectangle of one block.
She surveyed her work after she tied off the knot. “Oh, Rachel. I’m so slow. I’ll try to be faster next time.”
“You’re learning.” Rachel moved closer and bent at the waist, inspecting her stitches. “Not bad. I don’t think I’ll have to rework more than half of these stitches.”
“Oh, no, half?” But Natalie smiled when she saw a twinkle in Rachel’s eye.
“See you on Thursday?”
“I’ll be here.”
She regretted leaving the older woman alone in the house. She knew how a gaping loneliness felt. Mother’s big personality filled every space she entered, and even while fighting the illness that eventually claimed her life, that bigness had remained.
On Thursday, also, the national Budget would release. She would make sure she had her phone well charged and with her at all times. Surely, someone would remember a vivacious young Amish woman named Katie Yoder, who turned her back on all of them, just shy of her eighteenth birthday. A presence like hers would have left a void, just as it had last summer.
Please, Lord, let someone read my ad and remember Mom, someone who knows her parents.
Jacob hammered more nails into the shingles. Henry, not far away, was doing his own work on the opposite end of the roof, but using a pneumatic nailer. He zinged along, shooting nails into the shingles with a pop, pop, pop.
A Season of Change Page 13