by Mary Ellis
“Look, Mrs. Dunn is out on the loading dock. What perfect timing for us.”
“I’d say it is,” Hannah agreed, slowing the team. She squinted her eyes, trying to focus. “And isn’t that the same green pickup that rolled up my driveway last week?” Hannah’s tone sounded a touch frosty.
Emma craned her neck, even though she had spotted the truck long before her aunt. “I think it is. James did mention he might be delivering today. I thought we could spare Mrs. Dunn extra work if a large supply arrived on the same day.”
“How very thoughtful of you,” Hannah said, with a hint of a smile. “Please hold the reins and stay with the wagon. There’s nowhere to park. We’ll just wait here until it’s our turn to unload.” Hannah stepped down and tied the ribbons of her heavy black bonnet.
Emma noticed her aunt had started wearing the conservative head covering after her marriage instead of her usual white cotton kapp. Now she must turn her head fully left or right to see, since the bonnet blocked any side vision. Her aunt’s pretty face was all but hidden, but she didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps wedding Uncle Seth has been worth the trade-off, Emma mused, her face blushing from the thought.
Emma curiously watched Hannah start to approach Mrs. Dunn and then hang back shyly until the Englischer spotted her. Handshakes, embraces, even a buzz to the cheek followed in rapid succession amid laughter from both women. One woman Plain, the other fancy, yet it didn’t seem to affect their friendship. Hannah waved from the loading dock and held up one index finger to signal a wait before disappearing into the back office. In a little while, the truck blocking the loading zone pulled away but no vehicle moved up to take its place.
Emma leaned from side to side, trying to get a better view.
“Good afternoon, Miss Miller.” A voice spoke from behind her. Emma might have fallen out of the wagon if not for some quick action. James Davis grabbed her arm, pushing her back from the edge.
“Good grief, you scared the wits out of me!” Emma exclaimed as color flushed up her neck. “The last I saw you, you were standing in the doorway. Did you purposely sneak up on me?”
James put a foot up on the wagon rail and one hand on the back of the bench. “I did. I read in a magazine in the dentist’s office that women like surprises.”
Emma scooted back from his close proximity. She could smell his cinnamon chewing gum. “I believe startling and surprising are two completely different things.” She tried unsuccessfully to sound cross as she smoothed down the folds in her skirt.
“Mrs. Dunn said I should pull your wagon up and start to unload. She and your aunt are going to have coffee and talk women-talk.” He stepped onto the rail. “Scoot over, little missy.”
“Little missy?” she asked. Now Emma did sound cross as she moved to the far end. “That’s a silly thing to call a grown woman.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am.” He tipped the brim of his ball cap. “I heard that in an old movie once, and I’ve been waiting to try it out.”
“Neither your choice of magazines nor movies is serving you well today.”
James swung up onto the seat, grabbed the reins, and clucked to the usually slow-to-react horses. They began stomping toward the delivery area immediately.
What is it with men and horses? Those two Belgians are usually stubborn mules for me.
As soon as he set the brake, she got down as ladylike as she could and began removing the tarp. Her grapevine wreaths, decorated with every type of nut, dried fruit, wildflower, and seedpod growing in the county, had weathered the trip nicely.
James leaned in for a look. “Wow,” he enthused. “Did you make all these yourself?” He lifted out a particularly bright red one, loaded with holly berries, dried bittersweet, and interspersed with red oak leaves. “They are really nice. I might just buy one for my ma. Her birthday is coming up.”
“I did.” Emma grinned with pleasure, lining up four on her arm to carry in. “If you help me take them in, I’ll give you a discount on your favorite.”
“Looks like you’re a smart business woman besides a pretty gal.” James didn’t wait for her reaction to the compliment but marched up the concrete steps with his arms full of wreaths.
It was a good thing, because Emma’s cheeks had turned as bright as the red ribbons. She knew she shouldn’t encourage such meaningless flattery, but so far she hadn’t been able to put her foot down.
Once she had carried the boxes of dye packets inside, James wouldn’t allow Emma to help unload the wool. He insisted she join the other ladies having coffee.
How nice to be treated like an adult for a change! Emma poured a cup from the carafe while Mrs. Dunn inspected her handiwork lined up on the counter. She proved to be as equally impressed as James. Mrs. Dunn took on consignment everything Emma had made during the last six months, plus she paid her outright for the packets of dye. Emma was pleased beyond measure once the wool was inspected and weighed. Her share of the profits far surpassed the estimate that had been bouncing around in her mind.
“That’s wonderful, Mrs. Dunn,” she said. “Thank you.” Emma jotted the sum into her little notebook under the profits earned for the dyes. After a quick calculation, she said, “I’m halfway to the price of the portable loom right now. Once all the wreaths sell, I’ll have more than enough, including the tax.” Emma glanced between the shopkeeper and her aunt, arching up on tiptoes with excitement.
“I’m so proud of you, Emma. You’re making real progress,” Aunt Hannah said, patting her arm.
Mrs. Dunn clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Oh, Emma. Good for you. And I see no reason to wait until the wreaths sell since I’m certain they will. Why not pay for half the loom as a down payment? We can go six-months-same-as-cash for the balance, like that big furniture store in Canton. With the summer tourist season ahead of us, I’m sure the wreaths will be a hit. We’ll just change some of the bows to blues and greens.”
“Do you mean it, Mrs. Dunn? That would be ever so nice of you.” Now it was Emma’s turn to clap her hands.
“I’ll ask James to load the loom into your wagon. I can use that space for a new knitting display I’ve been anxious to set up.”
“Hold up here a minute.” Hannah raised a hand as though stopping traffic. “I think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves. We shouldn’t take anything home until it’s fully paid for.”
“But I promise to work very hard to pay every dime I owe as soon as possible,” Emma said.
“I’m sure you will, dear, but I also know how your daed feels about buying on credit. We shouldn’t make this transaction without checking with him first.”
Emma wanted to argue—to point out it would save them an unnecessary trip back as well as free up valuable shop space, but after one look at her aunt’s face, she bit the inside of her cheek instead. Besides, she didn’t want to appear argumentative with James Davis lurking in the open doorway to the dock.
“Yes, ma’am,” she murmured to Hannah. To Mrs. Dunn she said, “Please keep my profits for the wool on an account here—like layaway in the big furniture store. I’ll send a note with my father’s decision.”
“Splendid!” Mrs. Dunn said. “Shall we have another cup of coffee and a slice of pecan streusel before you head for home? I’m longing for a piece but I never allow myself to indulge alone.”
“Excuse me,” James interrupted. He pulled a sheet of paper from his shirt pocket. “My mom gave me a list of stuff to buy at the bulk food store.” He scratched his head while reciting the items, “Stone-ground buckwheat pancake batter, dried yellow currents, Havarti cheese, apricot chutney salsa…I don’t even know what these things are, let alone where to find them. They’re not like a gallon of milk and box of corn flakes.”
The three women laughed while James slicked a hand through his hair.
“Emma, do you think you could help me find them?” he asked. “The store is just one block from here.”
“No,” said one voice.
“Jah, sure,�
� answered another.
Hannah and Emma had spoken simultaneously, but Hannah continued, “I need to stop at that store too. We’ll both help you with your mother’s list.” She turned to face the shopkeeper. “We appreciate the streusel offer, and it sounds delicious, but we had better be on our way before it starts getting dark. Goodbye for now and thank you, Audrey.”
Hannah tugged Emma’s sleeve all the way to the door, calling to James along the way. “We’ll meet you inside Blanchey’s Bulk Foods, Mr. Davis. I want to move our wagon out of the loading zone.”
Emma stole a glance over her shoulder, but James had already gone out the side door. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to calm her fluttery nerves. It would not do if anyone knew how excited she was about going shopping in a grocery store!
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief when their wagon pulled out of the hilly town of Sugar Creek and headed north. There hadn’t been anything particularly bold or improper about Emma’s behavior in Blanchey’s; nothing she could admonish the girl for. It had been more of a feeling Hannah got each time she spotted her niece scanning the shelves with the young Englischer.
Did she have to giggle when they both grabbed the handles of the shopping basket and headed in different directions?
Must she appear so interested in the ingredients he was comparing between two brands of marinated vegetables?
Why had she tried to act so knowledgeable about baking apples when Julia could barely get her to pare off the skins when making a pie?
Although they did not stand too close or act inappropriately familiar, still Hannah didn’t like the way they leisurely walked up and down the aisles…so like a couple!
Emma was not yet sixteen.
James Davis was not Amish.
And there was something else Hannah needed to get off her chest with her beloved niece. “Emma, have you been in contact with young Mr. Davis? Other than speaking to him the day he stopped at your uncle’s farm?”
Silence—except for the clopping of horse hooves and the scrape of metal wagon wheels on the road. This wasn’t like Emma, a girl who usually had plenty to say on every topic. Hannah waited a full minute while keeping her focus on the road ahead. Then, “I’m waiting for your answer.”
Emma spoke in an almost childlike voice. “Jah. I left directions for him on how to find your farm. I gave them to Mrs. Dunn at your wedding.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“He said he was interested in how our operation differed from his, especially how we manage without electricity. He invited us to stop at his folks’ place, remember?” Emma turned toward Hannah on the seat, looking utterly earnest.
“I remember, jah. Why didn’t you tell me you had left directions for him?”
She shrugged her thin shoulders. “Because I really didn’t think he would stop, or that he would even remember meeting two Plain women.”
Hannah inhaled a slow breath, trying to ponder the perspective of a fifteen-year-old. She had no wish to overreact to something not necessarily wrong, and so she opted to ask another question. “Was that your sole correspondence?”
“No. I sent Mrs. Dunn a note saying my wreaths were finished and that I would deliver them with our next wool order. That way she wouldn’t take crafts on consignment from another supplier. And I asked her to tell the Davis family about our delivery date in case she wanted her whole supply to arrive the same day. She had mentioned she fills big orders for a rug and carpet manufacturer.”
“I see,” Hannah said. On the surface nothing was wrong with Emma’s logic. In fact, Hannah was impressed with her newfound business acumen. So why do I still have a bad feeling in my bones? “I get the idea, Emma, that you had an additional reason for sending the note to James. I believe you like the young man.” Hannah exhaled her pent-up air with a whoosh.
“Well, I guess I do like him, Aunt Hannah. He seems nice, don’t you think?”
“Jah, I suppose so.”
“And isn’t it important to have friends in your chosen line of work? Business contacts, like Mrs. Dunn and the friends Uncle Seth knows at the grain elevator…both Amish and English?”
Hannah felt she was about to be outmaneuvered, and she didn’t like it. “True enough, but you’re only fifteen years old.” Nothing more reasonable than that came to mind.
“I’ll be sixteen in two weeks, and I’ve been out of school for almost two years. Surely I’m not too young to have English friends.”
“Let me ask you a question, young lady. Have you told your mamm and daed about James stopping by for a tour last week?”
Emma met Hannah’s eye before gazing off at the countryside. Spring was exploding with each passing hour of glorious sunshine. “No, I didn’t. Pa usually judges a book by its cover, and he wouldn’t see anything beyond James’ Englishness.”
True enough, Hannah thought. What she said was, “But he is your father and knows what’s best for you.”
Emma crossed her arms over her apron, turning slightly away on the bench seat.
“I’ll say nothing to Simon or Julia right now,” Hannah said softly. “I don’t want to interfere with a family matter between you and your parents.”
Emma pivoted around on the bench, her face bright and eager. “Danki, Aunt Hannah—”
“Let me finish,” Hannah interrupted. “But I also won’t be part of any subterfuge in the future, niece. I won’t assist you in deceiving your folks, no matter how much I love you.” She reached out to cup the girl’s chin with three fingers. “And I do love you, Emma.”
The girl slid over until she was practically sitting on Hannah’s lap. “I love you too. And soon I shall tell mamm and daed all about James since he’s again invited us out to their farm in Charm. It would be rude to ignore the invitation, but I won’t go without their permission.”
At least they had reached an understanding. Hannah relaxed against the back of the seat for the remainder of the trip.
The day that the Lord had made was a blessed gift after weeks of clouds and rain. She could enjoy the companionship of her favorite niece without feeling disloyal to Julia.
She also felt mighty glad that her new daughter, Phoebe, was years away from such tribulations. Danki, Lord God. Danki!
Simon halted the team of Belgians to sop his brow with his handkerchief. The spring plowing was going well. The rains had been plentiful enough to leave the soil soft and tillable, but not overly abundant to turn his fields into a quagmire. With the sun just over the western hills, he decided this row was as good as any to stop for the day. He listened intently to the sound of an approaching wagon on the road. Was that his daughter returning from Sugar Creek with Hannah? When the wagon rumbled past his lane, Simon’s anticipation changed to annoyance.
How a parent worried when a child was away from home. Every year the frequency of car-buggy accidents increased as more people moved into the fertile, rolling valleys of central Ohio. He would speak to Emma at supper. These trips needn’t turn into all-day excursions, complete with picnics and those silly coffee drinks with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles! Both women had chores waiting for them…not the least of which was supper. A growl from his stomach turned his thoughts along just those lines. What did Julia mention she would make tonight? Roast duck with sage stuffing. A rather fancy meal for a weeknight, but Simon wasn’t complaining. Even his back pain lessened upon thinking about slices of moist, dark leg meat.
After putting the horses into the barn and sending in Matthew to rub them down, Simon decided to have a look in the unused washhouse. He’d spotted Emma scurrying in and out of the building from the kitchen window this morning. In this room his mamm had washed clothes in galvanized basins filled from a hand pump. And everyone had taken their Saturday night bath in an old copper tub. Water had been heated in kettles on the woodstove, steaming up the windows all winter long. Sometimes he yearned for how things were when he was young, but he was alone in such sentiments. Julia loved hot, running water to ease her st
iff, arthritic joints. Now the outbuilding was cobwebby and vacant after they had added a bathroom onto the back of the house.
But unused it was not, as Simon pushed open the wooden slat door. Emma had commandeered the room, filling it from floor to ceiling with drying herbs, plants, weeds, and long stringy roots. Some hung from pegs, others dangled from lines stretched across the room at head level, while leaves and twigs lay across a makeshift table built from plywood and two sawhorses.
With his hands on his hips he surveyed the room. He’d never seen the porcelain mortar and pestle sitting in the middle of the table. The whole room took on an odd, macabre look that Simon didn’t like one bit. He saw boxes of plastic storage bags of various sizes, and an array of cutting tools only a hospital surgeon would ever need.
First the barn loft workroom and now this? What is going on with my elder daughter? Simon hurried to the house, eager to rest his sore muscles, refresh himself with a cup of strong coffee, and talk to the voice of reason—his wife.
“Julia,” he said as soon as he took his place at the table. “Have you seen what’s going on in the old washhouse?”
“Jah, Emma uses the space for her dye-making.” Julia placed a mug of coffee before him, refilled her cup from the pot, and then returned to the propane refrigerator for milk.
Simon noticed celery, carrots, and green peppers on the cutting board ready to be chopped. “Is the girl neglecting her house duties? I won’t have you struggling with your bad hands while we have two healthy daughters.” Simon gulped his coffee, scalding his tongue. “And where is Leah?” he asked when he was able to speak again. With her kapp off for the moment, Simon saw streaks of silver in his wife’s dark hair.
Julia smiled patiently and stretched her gnarled hand out to him. “Rest easy, Simon. Don’t upset your digestion before one of your favorite meals. I’ve sent Leah to the henhouse. I want to hard-boil some eggs while we eat supper. She’ll be in soon to cut up those vegetables. This is her night to help with supper, not Emma’s.” Julia took a long sip of coffee.