by Kelly Long
“Jah?”
“Carrie Byler is coming to dinner tomorrow night, and I need you to cook something for her.”
Reba raised one brow, but didn’t say a thing.
“I mean, I need you to help me cook something.”
Reba looked to their mother, who only smiled. Their mamm had learned long ago with six boys in the house not to meddle in the affairs of the heart.
“Please, Reba.”
His sister crossed her arms and gave him that look, the one that usually meant trouble for whoever received it. “One condition.”
Of course. “What is it?”
“You have Bernice Yoder over for supper next.”
He shook his head. He didn’t want to give Bernice the wrong idea.
But she was his girls’ teacher. Surely he could invite her over as a courtesy. After all, the parents were always doing one thing or another for their school instructors. Hadn’t he just given nearly forty dollars to the gift fund to provide Bernice Yoder with a fine present for Christmas? “You’ll cook then, too?” he asked.
Reba nodded.
“Deal.”
But the smile on his sister’s face made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. She was up to something. Just what was anybody’s guess.
Jess slapped his gloves against his thigh and peered out of the barn. Where were the girls? It was past time to start the afternoon milking, and they needed to get everything done as quickly as possible before it was time to eat. School had let out long ago, but he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of them.
He shook his head. In the new year he not only needed to marry himself a wife, but he needed to find a barn helper, as well. Maybe he could convince his brother Ben’s oldest son to apprentice with him.
Behind him in the barn, the cows shifted and lowed. He couldn’t wait much longer to milk. With a sigh he eased back into the barn and started the chore.
Half an hour later his girls finally showed up. They didn’t offer an explanation, and he didn’t ask. They had all been through so much the last few months, it didn’t seem right to ride them too hard. They were only little girls, after all.
And they worked extra hard to complete the chores without having to be reminded.
His girls were growing up, no doubt about that.
“How was school?” he asked as they finally made their way to the house.
“Gut, gut,” Constance answered for them all.
“Just two more days and we’re out,” Hope added.
And three more days until Christmas. But before that . . .
“We’re having a guest tonight, girls.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his children exchange looks. Not sure what it meant, he continued, “Carrie Byler is coming to eat.” It might be a little unorthodox for him to involve his children this early on in the courting practice, but how much could they really know about what was going on? They would just think that a friend was coming to dinner.
“Carrie Byler from across the road at Dawdi and Mammi’s?” Constance asked.
“The very same.”
“We’ve never had company before,” Lilly Ruth mused.
“At least not since Mamm died.” For the first time in a long while, he felt a stab of longing at the mention of Linda Grace’s name. Or maybe it came from the fact that Hope mentioned it.
“Well, we are having company tonight,” Jess said.
“Good thing the nice ladies left us some more food today.” Constance pointed to the porch where a towel-lined basket sat to the side of the door.
That hadn’t been there when he went to the barn, but he supposed with the noise the milking machines made, whoever left it could have arrived with bells on and he wouldn’t have heard them.
Hope ran forward and scooped up the basket by its handle. She pulled back the towel. “It’s that sticky bread again.”
“Yum.” Lilly Ruth ran to catch up with her sister.
Constance rolled her eyes and pressed her lips together. Jess had the feeling she was trying to act older but deep down she really wanted to rush to her sisters’ side. Childhood was so short. He wanted hers to last a bit longer. All the more reason to have Carrie over tonight. The sooner they made their plans and got married, the sooner his children could go back to being children. If only for a little bit longer.
“Is there a note?” Jess asked.
Hope and Lilly Ruth peered into the basket, each lifting the sides of the towel to check underneath.
“No, Dat. No note,” Hope said.
“Nope,” Lilly Ruth chimed in.
It was the third time that someone had left monkey bread on his porch when he was out and three times that they hadn’t left a note. How was he supposed to know who to return the basket to? The rest of the food came in throwaway pans with a note so that the chef got the credit. But if he got one more casserole from one of the women in the spouses’ group, he might have to start spreading rumors that he wasn’t getting married again, if only to get some peace.
“Do you think Mammi made it?” Hope asked.
“I like Mammi’s monkey bread.” Lilly Ruth rubbed her belly and licked her lips.
He did, too. In fact, it was his favorite, but why would his mother bake the bread, then leave it on the porch? Why didn’t she come into the barn and talk with him for a bit? She would have, and that meant the bread wasn’t from his mamm, but from someone else entirely. But who?
“Okay, everyone get upstairs and get washed up. Put on clean dresses, then come back down, and I’ll redo your hair.”
They frowned at him.
“Why?” Hope asked.
Constance gave her a sideways kick. The blow seemed to be a warning and didn’t appear to hurt the girl, so he let it go without comment.
“Because he wants us to look nice tonight,” Constance said. She smiled, though her teeth were clenched so tight her jaw jumped.
“That’s right.” A knock sounded on the door. “That’s your aunt. Now go on, get ready.”
They dragged their feet as they tromped up the steps. It might seem like too much trouble right now, but they would appreciate what the extra attention brought them: a new mamm. And just in time for Christmas.
“I’m telling you. He’s going to marry her.” Constance made a face as she spoke. They were in the upstairs bathroom washing the day’s remains from their faces. She twisted her mouth the other way and wiped at the spot again. Was it chocolate or a freckle?
“What about Bernice?” Lilly Ruth asked. “I thought he was going to marry Bernice.”
“I like Bernice,” Hope said.
“We all like Bernice,” Constance snapped. She didn’t mean to be rude, but they were running out of time. He had invited Carrie Byler to dinner. Constance suppressed a shudder. It wasn’t nice to talk about grown-ups, but something about Carrie bothered Constance. First of all, she smelled funny, like mint and mothballs. And she wore black all the time. It was just sort of creepy. Constance knew that when a loved one died, it was customary to wear black for the first year, but she had never known her mammi’s neighbor to wear anything else. And then there was the constant fidgeting and smoothing. Why was the woman continually pressing on her hair and her dress? She was worse than one of those English models Constance had seen on the television once in the Walmart. She might only be eight years old, but she had never seen an Amish woman so concerned with appearances.
But the worst thing of all about Carrie Byler? She wasn’t Bernice.
“What did the book say?” Hope asked again.
Not near enough, or maybe it was because they didn’t have time to read much of it before they hurried out to the barn to help their father. Thankfully he didn’t ask them why they were late. That was the power of prayer in motion. Constance had prayed and prayed that her father wouldn’t be mad. Not only was he not mad, he didn’t even seem curious as to where they had been.
Lilly Ruth wiped her face with a wet towel, hitting only the high points as she
washed.
“Well,” Constance said, taking the washrag from Lilly Ruth and performing the chore herself. “The man thought the woman had eyes that sparkled like diamonds and a laugh prettier than an angel’s song.”
“What’s diamonds?” Lilly Ruth asked, closing her eyes against Constance’s efforts.
“Jewels, silly,” Hope replied.
Lilly Ruth, eyes still squeezed shut, turned her face toward her sister. “I may be the youngest, but that’s no reason to call me silly.”
Constance wrapped a firm hand around Lilly Ruth’s chin and turned her face back front. “Be still.”
“Ow! You’re going to scrub my freckles off.” She peered at her with one blue eye, the other still closed tight.
“Sorry.”
“Bernice has sparkly eyes,” Hope said.
It was true. Bernice seemed to shimmer and sparkle wherever she went. Or maybe it was just leftover glitter from that day’s art project.
“Do you know what angels sound like?” Constance asked.
Her sisters shook their heads.
“Me, either.” How were they supposed to know if Carrie Byler fit the description if they didn’t know that?
“Did it say anything about the men?” Hope asked.
Constance shook her head. “I didn’t get very far. Only that the man was handsome and strong.”
“Dat’s handsome and strong.” Lilly Ruth pulled away from Constance. “Everything else belongs on there,” she groused, moving so that Constance couldn’t reach her with the rag.
Constance shrugged. She supposed her sister’s face was clean enough. It was hard to tell with all those freckles.
“Jah, that’s gut, right? That Dat’s already handsome and strong.” Hope ran a hand down her dress in a manner that reminded Constance all too much of Carrie Byler.
“She has to think so.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Lilly Ruth asked.
“I guess the deal’s off,” Constance said.
“How do you make someone ugly and weak?” Hope asked.
“I don’t know,” Constance mused. “But until we figure that out, we’ll have to make sure that Dat doesn’t fall in love with her.”
Doubt pulled at her heart. What were they going to do if Carrie Byler had eyes that sparkled like diamonds and a laugh like the song of angels?
“Would you like some more noodles, Carrie?”
Jess looked up from his plate to see Constance holding the bowl of chicken and noodles toward their guest. So far the dinner had gone as smoothly as he could have hoped. His girls had been on their best behavior. They had come downstairs clean and neat and remained so since the meal started. They had all remembered to use their napkins and their manners as they politely and quietly ate their meal.
“Oh, I don’t think I can eat another bite.” Carrie patted her trim waistline and gave Constance a smile. Why had he only now noticed that when she smiled the action didn’t quite reach her cool blue eyes?
Or maybe he was being overly picky.
Think of the girls.
All of this was for his daughters.
“I can’t imagine why,” Constance started, her voice the example of innocence. “You’ve only had three helpings.”
“Constance.” Her name was out of his mouth before he could give a second thought to what she’d said. And the evening had been progressing so nicely.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” Carrie gave his daughter that cool smile once again. “Forgive me, but I do enjoy a home-cooked meal. And I get them so seldom these days.”
She didn’t cook?
Jess shook the thought away. He couldn’t very well ask, now, could he? Maybe he just misunderstood. It would be hard to cook just for one person.
He shot Constance a look. “How about dessert?”
Lilly Ruth hopped to her feet. “We still have some of the monkey bread.” She danced off toward the kitchen before he could agree one way or the other. But monkey bread, he supposed, was just as good a dessert as any other.
She returned a few minutes later, holding the container he had put the bread in that very afternoon. Not exactly the most impressive way to serve it.
“Not like that.” Constance slid out of her chair and pulled on Hope’s sleeve. “We’ll help you warm it up, won’t we, Hope?”
His middle child mutely nodded and followed her sisters into the kitchen, leaving Jess alone with Carrie.
“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble for me.” Carrie propped one chin in her hand and looked at him. This time, her eyes were soft, her mouth curved into a genuine smile.
“I had some help,” he confessed. “My sister came over earlier.”
“And she cooked this? Why didn’t you say something before?”
He shrugged. “I had no idea you would think that I had cooked it.”
Her smile lost a little of its warmth. “I see.” She allowed her gaze to trail around the room and for once he saw it with another’s eyes.
His jacket had fallen onto the back of the chair. Or had he entirely forgotten to hang it on its hook when he came in from outside? The mantel needed a good dusting. They had wiped it down the other day when they placed the nativity scene there, but it was covered once again. There were little bits of paper on the couch where Lilly Ruth had been cutting out snowflakes for them to have a white Christmas—just in case Chris Lapp was wrong, she had explained.
Carrie had walked in the house, saw all those snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, and said, “How quaint.” At the time he’d thought it to be a compliment. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Is that what you want? A fraa to cook and clean for you?” Carrie made a face that wasn’t the least bit favorable.
“I can’t very well do it all myself.” But he was doing the best he could.
“I see,” she said again.
Jess wasn’t able to respond. His girls came back into the room carrying the warmed monkey bread on a tray complete with steaming mugs of the coffee Reba had brewed earlier.
That seemed to please Carrie, and she smiled at them.
So why did he feel like she was smiling more because she was being served than at the sight of his daughters?
“Eat up,” Constance said. “We have plenty.”
“That’s right.” Lilly Ruth smiled and pushed her glasses back in place. “Someone keeps leaving it for us on the porch.”
“You don’t say.” Carrie took the saucer Hope offered her and leaned back a little as Constance balanced the coffee mug and set it on the table in front of her.
Jess held his breath, unnaturally certain the hot liquid was about to go tumbling into Carrie’s lap. He exhaled slowly as the danger passed. Surely his girls wouldn’t do something like that. But he was getting the feeling that his daughters would rather almost anyone but Carrie be sitting in the chair she occupied. Especially Bernice Yoder.
There he was, thinking about her again, when he was supposed to be showing Carrie all the wonderful things she would gain when she joined his family.
Like what? Daughters who didn’t seem keen on having her for a stepmother? A dirty house? Someone who expected his wife to cook and clean all day? Help out in the barn when he needed it? What exactly did he have to offer Carrie Byler? Certainly not love, though perhaps that would come with time. Even still, he wouldn’t be the only Amish who ever settled for less than love.
His girls grabbed their own plates of sweet bread and scrambled back into their seats.
“This is delicious.” Carrie shot him an approving smile as if somehow he was responsible for it showing up on his porch.
“Can you make monkey bread?” Hope asked the question, but he noticed that all three of his girls were intently watching Carrie.
She must have felt pinned to the spot. She stopped chewing the bite she had in her mouth and looked from one girl to the other. Then she resumed chewing and slowly wiped her mouth before answering. “I don’t believe I�
�ve made it, no. But I’m not much of a baker. There are too many women who enjoy that sort of thing.” She didn’t finish that thought, just waved a hand in the air and took another bite. He didn’t need her to complete the sentence. He could do that on his own. For me to concern myself with that.
If she didn’t want to cook, clean, or bake, she surely wouldn’t want to help out in the barn. So what did Carrie find fulfilling in life? That might be good to know before he asked for her to join her life with his.
They finished their dessert in silence. Jess bowed his head to begin their silent prayer, then the girls started to clean the table.
Carrie smiled as she watched them and confusion washed over Jess. Why did she get such pleasure from watching others work while she did nothing?
He shook the thought away. He was misunderstanding again. Surely that’s what it was. Carrie was not lazy. She was a good Amish woman.
Who leased her fields to others for them to farm and took part of the profit in payment for her land.
How had he forgotten that? She also leased her pasture space and her barn. Come to think of it, he never saw a vegetable garden on her property, though he had seen her tending the flowers that grew around the house. Just because he hadn’t seen a vegetable garden didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
“Would you like to stay and read the Bible with us?”
Carrie shook her head. “I should be getting back home. I like to have time alone before I go to bed.”
Time alone? Jess wasn’t even sure what that was. By the time he got the girls in bed, he had just enough time to spend with God before drifting off to sleep himself. Then he got up the next morning and did it all over again.
“I’ll walk you out.”
He helped her with her coat, ducked under one of the dangling snowflakes, then opened the front door. The night was cold and the sky looked heavy. Clouds covered the moon and stars. Only the light shining through the house windows shed any light onto the yard.
Maybe Chris Lapp was right and they would have a white Christmas this year.
“Danki, for supper.”