A Season of Change

by Lynette Sowell

  “Are you married?” asked Uncle Isaac.

  “Not married.” She couldn’t explain about Jacob, not in front of all of them, still nameless except for three. “I grew up in the circus and was an aerial silks performer, had ankle trouble and needed several surgeries, so I had to retire from that. Now, I teach at a circus school in Sarasota. I’m a Christian and I go to a good church. Since I found out about my mother, I’ve been spending a lot of time in Pinecraft. Or, I did.”

  “Ach, I see,” said Aunt Emma. She glanced at Uncle Isaac. “Well?”

  He coughed. “Ach, the reason we’re all here with our mother is, well, we wanted to make sure of your motives. It’s been more than twenty years since we’ve seen, uh, Katie, and we had no way of knowing anything about you.”

  “I understand.” Natalie nodded. No, she didn’t blame them, having her appear before them. “I’m . . . I’m not asking anything from you, but all I want is to get to know you.”

  “Well, the rest of you, introduce yourselves.” Anna waved at the others in the room, brushing her hands as if swatting away flies. “Natalie is our family. Isaac is my oldest, married to Emma.”

  “Next is me, Joseph, and this is my wife Clara.” Clara followed up her husband’ introduction with a nod and a smile.

  “I’m Dora, and my husband is Henry.” More nods. “Our last name is Byler.”

  “I’m Reuben, the youngest, and this is my wife Mercy.”

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet all of you. Just knowing you’re here, you’re all here, and I have seventeen cousins?” Natalie laughed, but tears filled her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but one ran down her cheek. “I might not be Amish, but it’s good to know who my family is. Very gut, as you would say.”

  She looked down to see one of Anna’s wrinkled hands clutching her own.

  “Stay for the day, stay for supper,” Anna said. “All of you; bring supper here tonight. If any of the children can come, send word for them to do so as well.” Her aunts and uncles stood, and the tension in the room dropped immediately.

  It was probably the closest anyone would come to killing the fatted calf for Katie Yoder.

  “Thank you, Anna.” She’d have to call the hotel—in Millersburg, ironically—and let them know she would be checking in late, but that was no problem. “If you don’t mind, I do have some things from Florida I brought for you.” Good thing she’d planned ahead and brought bags of grapefruit, lemons, and oranges. She knew she’d likely have a good-size family, but to see and hear it confirmed . . .

  “Of course, then come back inside. We still have much to talk about.”

  Natalie nodded, and smiled at the others as they all filed out. Three uncles, one aunt. Seventeen cousins.

  She left the house and scurried out to her vehicle, popping the trunk. The bags of grapefruit, oranges, and lemons waited, as did another bag. She wrangled everything from the trunk.

  “Here, let me help you,” said a male voice. Uncle Reuben. “Was it a long drive?” He took two bags from her grip.

  “Two days, and I stopped one night. Do you take the bus or hire a driver when you go to Florida?”

  “A driver. It’s easier that way. We can stop when we want, especially with the five kids all needing something or other, to eat or to use facilities.” He had the same little squinty look around his eyes as Mom, but his singsong accented voice sounded different to her ears.

  “I almost can’t believe it, you were there before Christmas. So close. But then I didn’t go to Pinecraft until after Christmas.”

  “Ach, Pinecraft, the Las Vegas for we Amish. Yes, we enjoy taking the children. My mamm and daed would take us when we were children, too.”

  “Do you know the Millers, Isaiah and Rachel? They’re probably a little older than your parents.” Her grandparents. But she was still getting used to the idea.

  “I think we might.” He led her to the door. “Mamm would know for certain. She’s good with names and such.”

  “Uncle Reuben.” Natalie plucked up her courage as she followed him into the house.

  “Yes?”

  “Trying the sound of your name. I have an Uncle Reuben. So, what do you do? Are you a farmer?”

  “Ah, no. I run a restaurant in Millersburg, Yoder’s Amish Fare. I have a business partner who’s Mennonite and we get along fine.”

  That explained her uncle’s open demeanor. He was used to negotiating in the Englisch world. Talking to her was likely no more different than addressing one of his business colleagues.

  “Oh, fresh fruit,” said Anna as they lugged the fruit into the kitchen. “I’d say this calls for some lemon meringue pie to go with supper.”

  “I’ll be glad to help.” Natalie stood, holding her purse and the tote bag she’d retrieved from the trunk.

  “Please, you can put those in the living room. I’d much rather talk in the kitchen, if you don’t mind.”

  “What time will supper be, Mamm?” Reuben asked.

  “Five o’clock.”

  Reuben nodded before he left the kitchen. “We will be back then. Mercy has made shepherd’s pie. We’ll bring that.”

  And then, they were alone.

  “So.” Anna lit the gas stove with a match and set the kettle on top. “I know enough to know you’re not just in the neighborhood by chance.”

  “No, I’m not.” Natalie took a seat at the end of the farm table. “I wanted to meet you all. I’ve felt so, alone, since Mom died. Dad has his own family. And there’s—there’s just me now.” She shrugged.

  “Ah, but how did you come to Pinecraft and your friends there?”

  The story tumbled out, about meeting the Millers and then following them to Pinecraft to return Rebecca’s doll. She tried to leave out the parts about Jacob, but even now, the memories tasted sweet on her tongue even after the bitterness of goodbye.

  “So, there is no young man in your life? No, dating, as you Englisch call it? How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-eight.” Natalie shook her head. “And no, not dating.”

  “But this Jacob Miller and his family. He sounds special to you.” The teakettle whistled and Anna poured them both a hot cup of tea.

  “Jacob said our worlds are too different, and it wouldn’t work.” Natalie held back a sigh at the admission. The sting still hurt and she performed the ritual of ignoring it as best she could.

  “He’s probably right, you know.” Anna slid a container of honey toward Natalie.

  Natalie nodded, and swirled a dollop of honey into her tea. Maybe this sweetness would help wash down the truth of Anna’s words. But it felt as if a scab had been ripped open anew. This fresh sting was harder to ignore.

  “I’ve heard of some who join the Amish, or Mennonites.” Natalie said the words aloud. “But I’m not sure that’s for me. I’m not very, um, Plain.” She recalled the sensation of wearing her performance costume in front of her Amish and Mennonite friends. The women’s fresh modesty clashed with the circus getup which wasn’t particularly concerned with freshness or modesty.

  “It’s wise when you consider what you must say no to, in order to be Plain.” Anna took a generous sip of tea. “Some people think it is downsizing, like Reuben would say, turning off technology, wearing different clothes, and a new hairstyle. But it’s more than that.”

  “I tried on my mother’s dress and her kapp a while back.”

  “You have her clothes?”

  “Just one dress and a kapp.”

  “What was that like for you, seeing yourself in the mirror?”

  “Different.” Natalie paused to take her own sip of tea. “Yes, different. I didn’t dislike it. I don’t know if it’s for me or not.”

  “It’s a matter of the heart.” Anna placed her cup on the table. “You are the one who must pray and decide where you belong. Here, we work hard. We’re up early. I have a garden to tend to. Not long, I know, and they’ll be sending me to the Mammi haus when the next grandchild marries and m
oves into here. But I like to keep busy. You’re of the age, though, you would marry, have children, keep house. Do you cook or sew? What skills have you?”

  “I—I’ve learned some quilting this spring from Rachel Miller, but I’m nowhere near professional. I’m a so-so cook.” Natalie sat up straighter. “But I’m good with children. I can teach. Not that circus skills are in demand among the Amish or Mennonites.”

  Anna stood. “Have you ever made a piecrust?”

  “No. I’ve just unrolled premade dough from a package,” Natalie admitted.

  Anna frowned. “Your mother was never one for cooking, either. Well, it is easy enough to learn. Come to the work table and I’ll show you before I start rolling out dumplings for the chicken.”

  Natalie joined Anna at a rectangular island in the center of the kitchen, and tried to take mental notes as Anna added shortening to flour, along with salt and water. She used a hand tool to break up the mixture into bits, quietly explaining the importance of not mixing the dough too much or it would turn out rubbery and not flaky.

  When she was finished, a ball of dough waited on the table. Anna sliced it in half. “We only need half a crust for the lemon meringue pie. Now, if you could roll this piece into a circle while I fetch some fresh eggs.” She handed Natalie a wooden rolling pin before sweeping through the kitchen and out the back screen door. “Be sure you flour the board and your rolling pin,” she called in through the screen.

  Natalie held the weathered wooden cylinder in her hands. Her mother had likely and very reluctantly touched the same utensil, here in this same room, trying to learn the same lesson. She floured the counter and the rolling pin, then started to roll the ball of dough into a circle. It reminded her of the Play-Doh she’d loved as a child. She rolled the dough into what resembled something of a circlish oval, after it wrapped itself around the rolling pin a few times.

  This was why she always picked up premade crusts at the store. A lot less waste of ingredients, time, and aggravation. But she made the most of this opportunity.

  Here came Anna with an apron full of brown eggs in varying tones. “We’ll need some to whip up the meringue. Ah, that looks passable. We can use your crust.” She set the eggs on the countertop.

  “It’s not quite a circle,” Natalie observed.

  “No, not quite. But it’ll do.” Anna nudged Natalie to the side. “Fold it like this, then pull it onto the plate, like this. Then unfold.” Her callused fingers maneuvered the piecrust dough in swift movements.

  Maybe, with practice, she could do the same someday. But who would she make pie for? She shrugged off the thought. “I suppose next we’ll need lemon juice?”

  “That’s right. I’ll pop this crust into the oven first.” Anna covered the crust with what looked like little ceramic marbles. “Pie weights.”

  “Ah.” Natalie watched Anna place the crust in the oven. “Is that a wood stove?”

  “Propane.” Anna whipped out a pair of bowls, then a plastic storage container. The mix of modern and old wasn’t as vivid as in Pinecraft. “Now we make the lemon filling, quite simple, on the stove top”

  A knock sounded on the back door. “Mammi, we’re here,” a young female voice rang out.

  “We’re here to help with supper,” said another voice. “Mamm said we should come meet our cousin.”

  Cousins!

  “Come in, come in,” Anna said.

  A quartet of young women, wearing dark cape dresses and black aprons entered the kitchen. They smiled at Natalie, before looking down at their shoes.

  “My four youngest granddaughters.”

  “I’m Natalie.” She returned the smile. “I’m very happy to meet you.”

  “I’ve never had an Englisch cousin before,” said the youngest.

  “Well, I’ve never had Amish cousins before,” Natalie returned, laughing.

  Anna shook her head, waving her hands at them. “Let’s get busy. We have a big supper tonight.”

  24

  An MRI scan followed by an EEG confirmed Rebecca likely hadn’t had another seizure, although it wouldn’t be a surprise if she suffered from headaches regularly. By Tuesday afternoon, the hospital released her after more tests, saying there was “nothing acutely wrong” with the child.

  Nothing acutely wrong. Jacob frowned as they loaded her into the van to go home. Acute meant urgent, some fresh bad news.

  Then why had Rebecca collapsed into a shrieking heap in the middle of the yard on Sunday?

  All she would say was her head hurt and offered no other explanation. However, the last thing Jacob remembered before Rebecca had her “event,” was the new young woman approaching him, saying something about the singing, and wouldn’t he change his mind about coming? Coincidence, Rebecca had collapsed then? Maybe. Maybe not.

  They arrived home right before supper with Ephraim, Katie, and the children. Zeke was already with his cousins, playing at their house, when the van stopped at Jacob’s home.

  Rebecca looked guileless as she studied the picket fence surrounding the house. “It’s good to be home.”

  “Yes, dochder, it is.” He carried her small bag, and she left the van without assistance.

  “Thank you,” he said to the driver, giving him the agreed-upon cash fare back from the hospital.

  So much like her mother, and so much unlike, Rebecca opened the door. Jacob followed her into the quiet house.

  “Oh, Daed, I’m sorry to worry everyone.” Rebecca’s head hung down.

  “I know. But if you had a headache, there was no need to scream about it.” He set down her bag and crossed his arms across his chest.

  “My head did hurt.”

  “Rebecca Miller.”

  “I didn’t want you to go, not with her.”

  “I don’t even know her.”

  Rebecca surveyed the front room, with its simple Plain furniture, the handwoven oval rug, and one of two wood stoves to help warm the house in winter. “I miss Florida. I want to go back.”

  “We talked about that. We’ll go visit Mammi when it’s winter again.”

  “I miss my school at Sunnyside, and Mammi Rachel, and Miss Natalie, and the beach, and Big Olaf’s. And fishing.” The last word came out as half a sob.

  “I do, too.” Of course, he missed Natalie. To deny that would be a lie. But here, things were better for him. The familiar was around once again. And now, maybe, life would somehow go on, just like it was for everyone else.

  “Here, it’s just not the same as it was before.”

  “No, it’s not. It hasn’t been the same since . . .” He didn’t want to be having this conversation with his little Rebecca. When had she learned to talk like this, to see things like this? She was but a child.

  Yet, Rebecca had had to grow up fast in some ways. Before Pinecraft, he’d been proud of her for learning grown-up ways without her mother around, mending, cooking, helping keep the house straight, tending the garden, and keeping up with her schoolwork. He was the one to blame for this, despite him letting Katie help with the children on occasion.

  “It won’t be the same, ever.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  “I don’t want you to see her.”

  “Now, Rebecca, it’s not your decision.” He squatted to get on her eye level. “It’s mine, and mine alone. We’re making do, you, your brother, me.”

  “If I get another mamm, I know who I want.”

  He nearly asked who, but then decided against it. Speaking a name between them—it didn’t matter.

  “That’s not your decision either.” Besides, with Natalie, he’d already been down that road in his mind. It couldn’t work, wouldn’t work.

  Rebecca frowned. “May I please lie down before supper?”

  “Yah, you may.” He watched as she picked up her bag, containing the dress she’d worn on Sunday, and clomped upstairs to her room.

  Soon, Rebecca would turn eight, on the first of May. Not five more years and she’d be finished with school. The
n, she’d begin her training in earnest, of what it meant to run a home, to be a mother, to care for children. Perhaps she’d discover a special skill or trade, like quilting or being a seamstress.

  His hands were full now, but what then? Gotte would provide. He believed it to the core of his soul. So far, Gotte had, in spite of their present unorthodox life.

  Hopefully, Rebecca would be in a better mood when she awoke. Despite her spirited nature, she had always been a respectful child. Gotte, help him be a gut daed to the young ones.

  A rap sounded at the open front door. “I heard the van.” It was Ephraim. “How’s Rebecca?”

  “She’s fine. She’s upstairs resting before supper.”

  Ephraim pulled the door open and entered the front room. “We had a phone message. I didn’t know if you heard.”

  “What’s that? Is it Mammi Rachel? Is she all right?”

  His brother shook his head. “Natalie Bennett called.”

  He hadn’t even allowed himself to murmur her name, but left the very idea of her back in Sarasota. “Why did she call?”

  “She called to speak to Katie. She’s in Ohio right now.”

  “Here?” So close . . . he couldn’t imagine his bishop seeing the capris, the uncovered hair, nor could he imagine himself keeping his eyes and heart from wandering in her direction.

  “Visiting her mother’s family.”

  “So she found them. Very gut.” Maybe it would help her feel more like she belonged. Or maybe it would only heighten the difference between her world and the Plain life.

  “Katie invited her to come for a visit, with her being so nearby. She’s in Millersburg.”

  Less than two hours away. “She’s coming here?”

  Ephraim nodded. “Sometime tomorrow, it’s likely.”

  He would see her tomorrow. “Ah, well, of course, she should stop for a visit. The children will be happy to see her. Rebecca, especially.” Although it might cause more problems than help any of them. Zeke still looked sad at certain moments, and missing Natalie was the only explanation Jacob could find.