by Mary Ellis
“Good idea,” encouraged Amy. “And every six months everyone can switch to a different assignment so life doesn’t get boring.”
Sally’s gaze landed on the plucked chickens waiting to be cut up and fried. “Danki for the suggestion, but it doesn’t help much today.” She took Jeremiah from Amy as he began to fuss again.
“That’s what Nora and I are here for. Why don’t you go nurse your little one, while Aden and I go upstairs to rouse my sister? We’ll throw cold water on her if necessary. Nora can feed Aden his breakfast and then watch both kinner while you and I cook up a storm.”
Sally’s relief was almost palpable. “Danki, Amy. You are a life preserver today.”
“I’m happy to help.” She took Aden by the hand. “What are your favorite side dishes to prepare?” she asked from the doorway.
Sally took no time to answer. “I have a delicious recipe for maple syrup sweet potato casserole. And I love making braised purple cabbage whenever I have leftover pork roast to add. It’s one of Thomas’s favorites. There’s some in the freezer now.”
“When I come down with Nora, I will bread and fry the chicken while you prepare your favorite side dishes. It’s time the district samples some Sally Detweiler at her finest.”
Sally headed into the living room with Jeremiah, beaming from ear to ear. As Amy climbed the stairs with Aden, she whispered a prayer of gratitude. Thank You, Lord, for the return of serenity to this house.
Several hours later, Amy, Sally, and Nora loaded roasters of food into the buggy and headed to the Erb farm. They arrived just as men were leading the draft horses to the hay wagon and water trough for the midday break. Combines and wagons half filled with corn waited in the fields, temporarily abandoned. Another dozen men walked toward the hand pump to wash.
“Look, Clara and Agnes are already here,” said Sally as she parked the buggy. She pointed at several picnic tables in the shade. Her voice held a note of trepidation.
“Don’t worry. You have your list ready to go.” Amy patted her arm affectionately.
“Let me see it,” said Nora, climbing from the backseat. “I was busy bathing the boys and missed the fun.” She held Jeremiah in the crook of one arm, while Aden clung to her skirt instead of his mamm’s. He’d found a new friend in Nora, who sang to him comically off-key.
Sally extracted a long yellow sheet from her purse. “I listed every woman in the district on the left and put the side dishes they could pick from on the right.” She held the paper under Nora’s nose. “The women will write their names in two different columns, one for now and another for after March first.”
Nora read aloud the categories. “Potatoes, vegetable casseroles, three types of cold salads, breads, cheeses, and desserts. Looks like you thought of everything.” She hefted Aden to her other hip.
“It was your sister’s brilliant idea.” Sally tucked the list back into her purse.
“But the idea to have them choose twice was yours,” corrected Amy.
“Food is food. I don’t understand what the fuss is about.” Nora’s interest had already waned.
As Amy unhitched the buggy, a teenaged boy loped toward them to take the Morgan to the water trough. “Danki,” she called, lifting the first roasting pan from the back.
“Here goes nothing.” Sally stacked two more atop one another and headed to the tables.
“I’m hungry already,” chimed in Nora. Because she had both boys, she avoided carrying heavy pans. “I didn’t have time to eat breakfast this morning. These two kept me busy.”
Nora looked positively radiant, however, not faint from hunger. Caring for kinner apparently agrees with her, thought Amy. Maybe something finally interested her sister around the farm.
As the three approached the tables, greetings rang out from the other women. Younger women hurried forward to accept the heavy pans.
“We’ve been here for more than an hour,” said Clara, the eldest of the district widows. “We’ve already washed down the tables and fixed lemonade.”
“Danki,” said Sally, flashing a smile in her direction. “The men will appreciate tables in the shade.” She went to work lining up pans in serving order and moving the sliced pies to the end of the table.
Amy stood back with her hands clasped behind her. This was Sally’s time to take charge and shine. She bustled around the buffet like a professional caterer, making sure each dish had the proper serving utensil.
“Aden has fallen asleep,” announced Nora. “I’ll spread a quilt under a tree for him and read my book there.” Off she strolled with both boys without a second thought about helping with lunch.
“What did you make?” asked Clara, lifting a corner of the first pan of chicken. “Smells gut.”
“Fried chicken, maple syrup sweet potatoes, braised purple cabbage, and cinnamon-spiced baked apples.” Sally brushed her palms together while she spoke.
The eyebrows of every woman within earshot lifted simultaneously. “Oh, my, that sounds delicious,” said one.
“You’ve been very energetic. Sure beats cold sandwiches and pickles,” said another.
“Maple syrup sweet potatoes?” asked Clara. “I haven’t had those in years. Lately, my spuds have been too stringy for anything but pig feed.” She lifted a corner of each cover until she found the correct pan. Just as she was about to sample the contents with a plastic spoon, Sally stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“You must be patient, Clara. You know it’s our custom for hardworking men to eat first.”
Clara straightened her back and squared her shoulders. “No hidden surprises today? No additional animal protein?” she asked in a whisper.
Thankfully, no one overheard the comment but Amy. “Not today, I’m afraid,” said Sally. “That’s only for special occasions.”
Clara burst into uproarious laughter. “Good idea to keep folks guessing.” She tucked the spoon in her apron and gazed at the men washing hands and faces at the pump. “I’ll fetch them more towels, but you’d better save me some of those taters. My mouth is already watering.” She bustled off as Sally breathed a sigh of relief.
Amy watched sheer joy bloom on the face of the young minister’s wife—and maybe a touch of pride. Clara, and everyone else, loved both of Sally’s special recipes. There wasn’t a morsel left in either pan for the slop bucket.
When the men returned to harvesting corn and the women settled in the shade, Sally relaxed against a tree trunk. After a while, Amy nudged her with an elbow. “What about the list? Now seems like a good time.”
“Nein,” she whispered. “I’ll save that for another day.”
Despite the missed opportunity, Amy understood Sally’s reluctance. Sometimes a woman needed to pick the perfect moment to rock the boat.
Sally sipped her morning coffee a content woman. Jeremiah slept soundly in the portable crib from his last feeding, and Aden was eating breakfast on his own, with the majority of oatmeal actually reaching his mouth. She used the few quiet minutes to bask in her success. The women had raved about her side dishes and even asked for the recipes. Many would deem this a small feat, but not Sally. The look on Clara’s face upon tasting the potatoes made up for all the slights and jabs she’d suffered since coming to Harmony. “Thank You, Lord,” she said. “Please help me to serve my district adequately.” She reached out to wipe her son’s chin. “And give me courage to approach them with the cooking assignments.”
“Who are you talking to, fraa?” Thomas had entered the kitchen during her prayer.
“Dah!” exclaimed Aden with glee. The cereal on his spoon flew off and hit the floor with a splat.
“Hullo, son.” Thomas bent to kiss the top of Aden’s tousled head.
Sally sprang up for a wet rag. “I was talking to God. I thought if I spoke aloud, He would be sure to hear.” She wiped up the mess and threw the rag into the bucket of soapy water. She planned to wash the kitchen floor after breakfast.
“He hears us. Whether it’s a bold shout from
a mountaintop or a child’s tiny plea—our prayers are heard. What’s troubling you?”
“Nothing, for a change.” She reiterated yesterday’s preparations for the frolic, Amy’s suggestion regarding the list, and the popularity of her recipes.
“You doubted yourself?” Thomas sounded surprised. “We all have our gifts, Sally. You’re a fine homemaker. Besides, Plain women don’t usually aspire to be gourmet cooks. Hearty food so bodies are replenished—that’s all that’s required.”
“Without oven-baked insects?” She shuddered with the memory.
The web of lines around his eyes deepened from his broad smile. “They might be popular in another culture, but not in ours.”
His tenderness filled her with joy. “You’re not upset about me spreading around the cooking duties?”
“Of course not. Because we’ve grown more numerous, it’s a good idea to share the workload. You’ll have plenty of chances for the women to sign up. We see them every Sunday.”
Sally refilled their mugs and added milk to Aden’s plastic cup. “Amy and Nora helped me so much yesterday. I’m grateful to them.”
“Speaking of whom, where are they?” He peered around as though just noticing they were alone.
“Nora is upstairs with a migraine, and Amy is picking cabbages in the garden. We’ll make sweet pickled cabbage and can sauerkraut this afternoon.”
When Thomas lifted his coffee mug to drink, Aden mimicked the motion with his cup. “John went to check out a house. He looked for Amy before leaving but couldn’t find her.” He locked gazes with his wife across the table. “Do you suppose she sometimes hides from him?”
Sally felt herself blush as she walked to the window overlooking the garden. After reassuring herself that Amy still toiled among the rows, she turned back to him. “I don’t think she hides, but I doubt she’s as eager as he is to find a farm to buy.”
“Second thoughts regarding marriage?”
“I can’t speak as to her heart, but do you really think he’s the right one for her?” Sally glanced nervously at the stairwell, not wishing to be overheard by Nora either.
“It’s not my opinion that matters. I see no reason why they shouldn’t marry based on what they have told me.” He walked to the cupboard for a bowl.
Sally hurried to stir the oats and get the pitcher of milk. “Mir leid, ehemann,” she apologized. “A man who’s been up since four thirty must be hungry by now.” She sliced fresh bread and placed it on the table along with jam and butter.
Thomas carried his brimming bowl to the table. He sprinkled the surface liberally with cinnamon, poured on milk, and began to eat. “Do you know something I don’t? I would appreciate some insight.”
Sally sat down next to Aden, who waved his spoon in the air. “She’s said nothing contrary about him. It’s just woman’s intuition. Did you see his expression when Amy left to go to the library and post office? I’ve seen milder temperaments on bulls in spring during mating season.”
Thomas lifted a brow and bobbed his head toward Aden.
“He’s still too young to understand,” Sally assured him with a blush. She sensed a small measure of the confidence she had prayed for. Time to pursue the topic that had been long on her mind. “John looked as though he might suffer a stroke after Amy left. He paced the barnyard and then chopped so much firewood we’ll be set for subzero weather through May.”
Thomas appeared unruffled by her observation. “It’s good for a man to blow off steam with hard labor. We are all victims of human nature, fraa, but Scripture encourages us to rid ourselves of anger. That’s what he was doing.”
“But why was he mad about Amy going to town?” Sally cast another wary glance at the steps.
“You don’t understand a man’s mind. John worries when she takes the buggy alone. She’s not familiar with the area or with handling this particular horse. And the impetuousness of her decision unnerved him. My bruder has never been spur-of-the-moment. He’s a planner, a consider-all-the-options kind of guy. There’s not a spontaneous bone in his body.”
“You know him better than I.” She filled a bowl of her own with oatmeal.
Thomas leaned back in his chair. “When we were boys, he used to plan exactly what he would do on the first nonpreaching Sunday of warm weather while we were still buried under a foot of snow. He studies seed catalogs in January, even though he’ll invariably plant the seeds he saved from the previous year.”
She reflected on this. To her, the information only underscored her point. “Does this behavior even remotely sound like Amy?”
“No, but opposites attract, Sally. Look at us.” He winked one magnificent blue eye at her.
She frowned, even though she agreed with him on some level. Personalities often differed with long-married, happy couples. But something about Amy and John’s engagement didn’t set right with her. His impatience to marry sent up—what did the Englischers call it?—red flags. “I really like Amy,” she said finally. “Not that I don’t like Nora, but I seemed to have…bonded with her sister.”
“That’s gut. If she stays and marries John, you’ll have a friend besides a sister-in-law.”
“If she stays and marries?” Sally pounced on that like a cat. “Your word choice indicates you have doubts too, Thomas. Your bruder needs a more docile, pliable fraa than Amy King.”
He stood and lifted Aden from the chair. The boy had eaten all he intended to and was now just making a mess. He carried him to the sink, removed his soiled bib, and washed his hands and face. “I have no doubt that the correct path will be made clear for both Amy and John. In the meantime, it’s important that others don’t unduly interfere.” He lowered his chin and fixed her with a cool, steady stare. He set Aden down on the floor, clean and dry again.
“Me, interfere? Surely you jest.” Sally used another favorite English expression, even though Thomas’s meaning was crystal clear.
Thomas peered out the back window and then dropped the curtain back in place. “She’s on her way in, so our conversation about your true nature must wait for another day. And she’s carrying a heaping basket of cabbages. You two will have your work cut out for you this afternoon.”
“Perhaps women need to burn off steam too.” Sally cleared the table of their breakfast dishes. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your other bruder came home last night, very late. I heard him on the stairs to the cellar. He made quite a racket, actually, as though he kept stumbling.”
“It must be too rainy up north to cut lumber. They give the men a few days off until things dry out. Otherwise, heavy trucks could get mired in the muck.” He shrugged on his coat, looking ten years older than five minutes ago. “Have you talked with him yet?”
“Only to say good morning. He took a shower, made two sandwiches, and headed toward the fields. He muttered something about checking fence lines.”
Thomas nodded as though deep in thought. “No mention as to how long he might stay this time?”
“Nein. I’ve told you all I know.” Sally felt a shiver of something dreadful. When Thomas swept open the door, he nearly ran headlong into a streaky-faced Amy.
“Whew,” she said, sliding past him. “All picked—the cabbage, squash, zucchinis, and brussels sprouts—every last one of them.” She hung her cloak on a peg and headed to the sink to wash.
Sally poured her a mug of coffee. “Thomas said you have a full bushel of cabbage for us to chop and can.”
“A full bushel?” she asked. “There are five bushels lined up on the porch. He must have only seen me haul up the last one. I hope you slept well last night, because we’ll need our energy today.”
Sally sighed and then remembered something her mamm loved to say: The Lord never gives us more than we can handle. Five bushels to can? We’ll be inventing recipes for cabbage pie and cabbage bread before all those jars are gone.
“Get up, John, before the morning gets away from us.”
With a start, John bolted upright and fumbled for his glasses on
the nightstand. In the dark room he sensed rather than saw Thomas looming above him.
“Were you planning on sleeping till noon?”
“I guess not.” John threw back the covers. “What time is it?”
“Half past four. Have you forgotten? We’re spreading manure today.” Thomas backed away, allowing his brother space to get out of bed. “Just like the old days. You can sleep through thunder and lightning, gunshots, and even the snores of our little brother.”
John went to his dresser, where a basin and pitcher of cold water awaited. The floor chilled his bare feet. “Danki for waking me. I was having a bad dream.”
“What about? Did you arrive late to lunch and the man in front grabbed the last piece of chocolate cake?” Thomas raised the window shade, letting it go with a snap. Whereas John could sleep through just about any ruckus, Thomas loved creating them.
“No, Amy and I were on a country dirt road at the height of summer. She kept running away from me, and I couldn’t catch her no matter how hard I tried.” John gazed into the small mirror before splashing cold water on his face. “She had an expression of pure terror on her face each time she looked back at me. I knew we were approaching the edge of a steep cliff and wasn’t able to warn her. Just like spooked cattle, we were doomed to tumble over to our deaths.” He shook his head to dislodge the unsettling nightmare. As he buried his face in a soft towel, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Get hold of yourself. There are no deep abysses in the area, no dirt roads, and Amy is downstairs with Sally and Nora, preparing to leave.”
“Leave? To go where?” John tossed the towel on the bureau.
“Where’s your memory today? I mentioned at supper last night that we would spread manure this morning. It’s supposed to be sunny for a few days to give it a chance to dry before we till it under.”
John reached for his work trousers from the chair. “Why are we fertilizing already? It’s still September. We never did this until late October back home.”