by Beth Wiseman
“Ach!” He pointed a finger in her direction. “We are supposed to talk about this when I’m done.” Plus, if I tell you now, you might back out of our Sunday date, which isn’t a date.
She twisted her mouth to one side. “Aaron?”
“Ya?”
“You won’t let anything happen to my story, will you? It’s the only copy I have, and I’ve worked hard on it.”
He spoke with tenderness. “No, Leah. I won’t let anything happen to it.”
“And you like it so far?” Her eyes begged him to say yes.
“Ya. I do.” And I will finish it by Sunday so I can spend time with you.
“Ach, gut!” She gave a little bounce again. “Then I will see you on Sunday.”
Aaron nodded as she turned to leave. He was just about to get back to work when Leah spun around and faced him.
“Aaron?”
“Ya?” She walked back toward him, folded her hands across her chest, and pressed her lips together. “Did you know your Auntie Ruth has a secret?”
Aaron laughed out loud. “I reckon Auntie Ruth must have lots of secrets.” He paused. “Why?”
Leah shrugged. “I don’t know. She told my sisters and me that she has a secret. And that she’d be staying until things were handled. I just wondered what that meant.”
Aaron scratched his forehead. “You can probably tell that Auntie Ruth is—is different. There ain’t no tellin’ what she might be talking about.”
“She’s very special. I can tell. I hope I get to see her again.”
“She’s special, all right.” Aaron recalled the time Auntie Ruth told him where babies came from. At twelve, he was probably old enough to know, but it was the way she’d told him. “Now, honey, here’s how it works . . .” Aaron cringed at the recollection. He was sure his parents would have doubled devotion time that entire year if they’d ever found out. But Auntie Ruth never meant any harm. She just had a funny way of doing things.
“How are you going to get home? It’s a far piece if you plan to walk. But the weather is better, I reckon.”
“Ach, I’m going to hold my thumb up and hitch a ride from the Englisch.”
Aaron’s eyes grew to the size of golf balls. “Leah! You can’t do that. That’s not safe for you—”
She doubled over, laughing, then looked back up at Aaron, dimples and all. “It was just a tease, Aaron. You’re so serious. Mei Englisch friend Donna works at the bakery. She gets off work in about twenty minutes. I will hitch a ride with her.’Bye now.”
Leah waved and turned again to leave. Aaron shook his head. It was no wonder Leah took to Auntie Ruth so well. He suspected there was a tiny bit of Auntie Ruth in Leah.
Donna pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. “Are you sure you don’t want to meet me and Clare at the movies later? We can pick you up near the road, like we did last time.”
“No. Danki, though.” Leah looked at the large family buggy pulled up next to the spring buggies. “My parents are home from the hospital with my sister, and tonight would not be a gut night to get caught sneaking out.”
“I’m glad everything is okay with Edna. And you’ll be in your rumschpringe until you’re married, so I feel sure we have plenty of time to go out another night.”
Leah giggled at her friend’s use of Pennsylvania Deitsch—and at her implication that Leah wouldn’t be married for a long time. “You’re still not saying it right,” she teased. She opened the car door. “Danki again for the ride.”
As she strolled up to the door, she looked into the sky at the sun set squarely between the house and the silo, amid skies that were still a bluish gray, and positioned in such a way that Leah knew she was late for supper. She bit her bottom lip and picked up the pace, not realizing so much time had gone by. But Donna had wanted to stop for a root beer before heading home, and then they’d talked for a while, and now she was late . . . again.
She cautiously opened the screen door that led into the kitchen, expecting to find everyone seated for supper. The smell of Kathleen’s beef stew filled the kitchen, but no one was in sight. Leah tiptoed to the stove, lifted the lid, and dipped the spoon into the dark brown sauce, making sure to pick up a chunk of beef. She blew on it, then opened her mouth.
“Leah!” Her father’s abrupt tone caused her to drop the spoon. She scurried to pick it up, scooping the lost load into her trembling hand.
“Ya, Daed. How’s Edna? Is everyone upstairs? I’m sorry I’m late. I had to catch a ride in town.”
Daed’s face was as red as Auntie Ruth’s lipstick. He walked toward her, his hand raised in such a way that she actually thought he might strike her. He pointed his finger in her face.
“Your sister spent the day in the hospital. You were not even here to welcome her home, to make sure she’s all right.” He stood rigid, his eyes ablaze. “It is bad enough that you continue to test my will by being late to the meals and do not partake in your share of the chores around this haus.” He pulled off his straw hat, raked a hand through his hair, and sighed. “There will be no more story writing. No more sneaking out for movies and fun times with your Englisch friends.”
Leah’s eyes widened. Who had told him?
“Your mamm and me are not dumm. Do you not think we know that you are sneaking out some nights? We have always looked the other way during our daughters’ rumschpringes. But no more.” He stomped his foot. “Edna will have to stay in bed for a while, and then she will be on a light chore schedule. You will do her sewing and mending. You will help Mary Carol with the garden. You will learn to cook from Kathleen. These things you will do to become a proper Amish woman.”
“Ya, Daed.” Leah hung her head, and a tear ran down her cheek. She hated being such a disappointment to him, but she wasn’t good at all these things he spoke of. And no more writing?
Her father drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Mei maedel, you are eighteen years old. A grown woman of marrying age. Do you want to live with your mamm and me forever?” He shook his head, then looked at Leah’s tearstained face. “You are punished to the haus until I say otherwise.”
“But for how long?” She stared into his cold eyes.
“Until I see fit.” He pointed to the stairs. “Best go check on your sister. And dry your tears. Edna has had a hard day today.”
Leah didn’t say anything as she brushed past him. Then she turned slowly around. “Daed?”
He widened his eyes but didn’t say anything.
“What about the Sunday singing that Aaron Lantz invited me to this weekend?”
“I will get word to Aaron that you will not be able to attend.”
“But—”
“Leah!”
She turned and ran up the stairs, and despite her father’s instructions, the tears fell full force.
Chapter Seven
MARIAN SCOOTED NEXT TO HER HUSBAND IN THE BED. She snuggled up close to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her but kept reading his book—a book about raising daughters. Marian smiled.
“You do know that book is written by an Englisch man, no?”
James pulled his gold-rimmed reading glasses off and closed the book. “Englisch or Amish, I am finding that these daughters can be difficult to rear, no matter what. This man’s words calm me. Makes me feel like I am not alone with our troubles.”
“James, dear. We have four beautiful daughters, all in their rumschpringes. What did you expect when they reached this age? Do you not remember when I was in my running-around period?” She winked playfully at him. “Things will be challenging. But they are all gut girls.” Then she nudged him with her shoulder. “Even Leah.”
Her husband grunted. “I love all mei daughters. I just want Leah to do as she should.”
“James, you cannot make Leah into someone she is not. As I’ve told you before, Leah will find her way.”
He turned to face her and lifted his brows. “When?”
Marian chuckled. �
�Well, I don’t know exactly when, but she will.”
James settled himself atop the covers and pulled her close.
“Don’t you think that maybe you were a bit hard on Leah? Punishing her to the haus—indefinitely.”
“Maybe if she is here more, and not writing those silly stories and running with her Englisch friends, she will learn to do the things a gut Amish woman should. I am doing Leah a favor.”
Marian cuddled closer to her husband. “It’s such a shame that she won’t be able to go with Aaron Lantz to the singing on Sunday.” She paused. “He seems like such a nice boy.”
“I’m not bending my rules.” Her husband sat up taller in the bed.
Marian tenderly ran her finger down his arm. “Are you sure?”
James finally grinned. “I know what you are doing, my love. And it won’t work.” But he wrapped her in his arms just the same.
Later that evening, Leah sat down on the edge of Edna’s bed and clutched her sister’s hand. “I was so scared, Edna. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got home.”
“Leah,” Edna said tenderly. “I told you when you brought me supper earlier, I have no worries about that.” She paused. “How did Daed act during supper?”
“He didn’t say much to me. He did ask me to hem his new pair of breeches.”
“That’s an easy task.” Edna propped herself taller against her pillow and reached for the inhaler the doctor had given her.
“Does that help?”
“Ya, it does.” Edna put the inhaler to her mouth and breathed in the medication, then said, “There’s no need for all this fuss over me. I feel well enough to resume my chores tomorrow.”
“Edna! You just got out of the hospital. At least give it a few days. I can handle your sewing and other chores.” Leah released her sister’s hand, then lowered the flame on the lantern that sat between them on the nightstand. She climbed into her own bed. “Daed said I’m not allowed to write my stories anymore.”
Edna sighed. “I know you enjoy doing that, Leah, but is it really necessary?”
“To me it is.” She kicked her quilt to the foot of the bed. “And I won’t be able to go to the singing with Aaron on Sunday.”
Edna twisted to face her. “Ya, Abner told me that the two of you were supposed to go together, and I must ask, why? You never seemed interested in Aaron.”
Leah shrugged. “He’s okay. I’m just not in the market for courting. I know you and Mary Carol are ready to get married, but I’m not yet.”
Edna’s face brightened. “It’s a wonderful feeling to be in love, Leah. You’ll see someday.”
Leah thought for a moment. “I write about finding the Lord in my books, but I also write about finding love.”
“Maybe when you fall in love, your writing will be even better.” Edna smiled, then took another whiff from the inhaler. “I’m tired, Leah.” She eased herself down in the bed. “But it won’t bother me if you want to leave the lantern on and write.”
“Actually, I’m tired too.” Leah turned the knob on the lantern until the flame was extinguished, then lay down. Thankfully, there was a bit of a breeze blowing through the window screen, but it was still dreadfully hot.
“Leah.”
“Ya?”
“Maybe if you are on best behavior for the next few days, Daed will rethink his decision and let you go to the singing.”
“Do you think?”
“If you work really hard to please him, he might. For starters, don’t be late for meals.”
“How can I be late if I’m not allowed to go anywhere?”
Edna chuckled. “True. Good night, Leah.”
“Good night.”
Leah lay there for a few minutes, and despite how tired she felt, her thoughts were all over the place. “Edna, are you asleep?”
“Almost.”
“Did you meet Abner and Aaron’s Auntie Ruth?” Leah smiled as she recalled the high-speed car ride earlier in the afternoon.
Edna giggled. “Ya. I guess you met her too. I heard her say that she was going to go report to my sisters that I was doing fine. Isn’t she a funny Englisch woman?”
“She seemed a bit odd, but I liked her.” Leah recalled the way Auntie Ruth told her that perhaps her stories would touch someone someday. She couldn’t imagine who at this point. She’d hoped that maybe Clare or Donna might be inspired by her stories to put more faith in God and His will, but she wasn’t sure when she would even see her Englisch friends again. Surely her father would ease up on her.
They were quiet for a few minutes, then Edna started to cough badly. Leah bolted up in the bed. “Edna, are you okay?”
“Leah, I’m fine,” she said in a hacking voice. “I just have to keep using this inhaler. I have an infection, and it worsened this asthma that I didn’t even know I had.”
Edna coughed, inhaled from the tube, and coughed some more. Leah recalled Edna’s bluish color this morning. She closed her eyes. She felt like she couldn’t pray enough for Edna, so she offered up yet another prayer for her sister before she dozed off.
The next morning, Leah made sure she got up extra early. Everyone seemed shocked, and almost afraid, when they walked into the kitchen to find Leah finishing breakfast. Nothing fancy. Scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast.
“Ach, I can take over from here,” Kathleen said as she joined Leah by the stove and reached for the spatula.
Leah jerked it away. “It’s almost ready. The sausage is keeping warm in the oven, and I’m almost done with these eggs.”
“What’s that smell?” Mary Carol entered the kitchen, pinching her nose.
Leah put one hand on her hip and stirred the eggs with the other. “I burned the toast, but only a little.”
“It’s black!” Mary Carol eyed the plate of toast on the kitchen table. “I’m not eating that.”
“You will all eat what your sister cooked.” Daed walked into the kitchen carrying a copy of the Die Botschaft tucked under his arm. He put the newspaper on the counter and sat down at the head of the table. “Your mamm is upstairs with Edna, and she said to begin without her. She will eat upstairs with Edna in a while.”
Leah poured the eggs into a bowl, unsure why they looked different from usual. Then she took the bowl of eggs and the plate of sausage and placed both on the table. She took a seat beside Mary Carol and across from Kathleen.
“Let us pray,” their father said. They all bowed their heads.
Since no one seemed particularly hungry this morning, Leah went first and spooned eggs onto her plate, snatched a piece of sausage, and helped herself to a piece of toast.
“Where’re the jams and jellies?” Mary Carol scanned the table. “We’re gonna need them,” she added under her breath. She slowly reached for a piece of toast.
Leah cut her eyes at Mary Carol. “I’ll get them.” She rose from the table and returned with a jar of rhubarb jam and a jar of apple butter. Once she was seated again, she took a bite of the eggs. They weren’t so bad. An odd texture, maybe.
She glanced around the table at the others.
“How long did you cook these eggs, Leah?” Mary Carol’s mouth twisted with displeasure.
“The eggs are fine,” Daed said with authority. He glanced at Leah with a slight smile.
That was all she needed from him. It was a start, and she was tired of being such a disappointment to him.
“May I be excused? I want to get started on Edna’s sewing chores.” Leah didn’t think she could finish the meal. Her sisters would have to figure out their own way to avoid eating her cooking. Maybe I’ll be better at sewing.
Daed nodded.
Leah left the kitchen, walked through the den, and headed up the stairs. She met her mother midway. “How’s Edna?”
“She seems better this morning.” Her mother paused. “What’s that smell?”
Leah sighed. “I fixed breakfast.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “Ach. That’s nice, dear.”
“I�
��m going to go hem Daed’s breeches. Maybe I’ll be better at that.” She scooted past her mother.
“Leah?”
She spun around and saw her mother coming back up the stairs. “Ya?”
“Keep making a gut effort, and I will try to convince your father to let you go to the singing on Sunday.”
Leah smiled. “Danki, Mamm.” She knew she’d be more than ready to get out of the house by Sunday. And she was very eager to hear what Aaron thought about the rest of her story.
She headed upstairs to start on the sewing chores. First she’d hem her father’s pants, then see what else was in the pile. She would plan on cooking for the next couple of days too. Surely that would win her some points.
Or maybe not.
Chapter Eight
JAMES EYED THE MENU AT PARADISO. HE DIDN’T TAKE Marian out to eat often, but a Saturday night in town, eating some fine Italian food, was just what he and Marian needed. Leah had insisted on cooking the meals all day on Friday, and he’d suffered through breakfast and lunch today. At Paradiso the food was always good.
“What’s the occasion?” Marian grinned as she spread her napkin on her lap and picked up her menu.
“I reckon you know exactly what the occasion is.”
“Yet you left Edna, Mary Carol, and Kathleen to fend for themselves, no?”
James decided on lasagna and closed his menu. “Kathleen made a batch of corn chowder while Leah was helping Mary Carol in the garden. She stashed it in the back of the refrigerator, in case Leah’s meat loaf was not gut.” He paused, tilted his head to one side. “How can you mess up meat loaf, though?”
“She’s trying so hatt to please you, James. And I think her ham loaf last night would have been all right if she hadn’t gotten her teaspoons and tablespoons mixed up.” Marian sighed. “I failed with Leah, I reckon. I’ve tried to teach her everything she needs to know about being a gut Amish fraa, but I must have done something wrong.”
“You didn’t fail, Marian. Leah has never been interested in cooking, sewing, gardening, or cleaning. And now, at eighteen, she’s trying to master these skills?” He shook his head. “She is only doing this so that I might change my mind and let her go to the singing.”