At the mention of the word electricity, Aenti Sarah rotated her head from side to side. “First, it’s electricity. Next, you’ll be bringing a television set in so customers can watch shows while they eat their desserts.”
“Of course not.” They’d only been discussing the plans for a few moments, and already Betsy wanted to scream. Aenti Sarah had electricity in her own snug little rental in the village. But Aenti Sarah was her elder. She could probably teach her a few things about making many pies at a time. Her hands would be a big help, too.
However, if at every turn, Aenti Sarah kept throwing out comments, Betsy wasn’t sure what she’d do. She didn’t want her reporting back to her daed, daadi, and oncles about her attitude, or being careless with money, or worse, losing her Plain ways.
Pinecraft was definitely a lot more relaxed than back home in Ohio. She thought of the saying, “What happens in Pinecraft, stays in Pinecraft.”
Aenti Chelle smiled. “I have confidence in you, Betsy. There might be obstacles to overcome while you prepare the store, but God willing, all will come out right.”
Ach, there was the rub. Gotte willing.
She’d thought it Gotte’s wille she and Jacob would be together. Immediately, she chided herself for the wayward thought, even as she nodded at her aenti’s encouragement. No more thoughts of Jacob Miller. Gideon Stoltzfus had approached her once while home in Ohio, but she wasn’t interested in the least. Surely, Gotte had someone more suitable for both of them.
Anyway, who would go walking with a young man who told her the reason he wanted to escort her home was because of her good apple pie? His ample frame told her how much he like pie. She frowned at her glass of iced tea. Her parents, especially her mother, would have likely preferred she see what happened with Gideon, as it might bring her home to them. She’d been taught her parents knew what was best for her, what Gotte wanted for her.
Yes, she wanted to do Gotte’s wille and please Him, but sometimes she wasn’t sure her elders knew best. But as far as the shop was concerned she’d do her best to bend to what they wanted. Everything except for a wood-burning stove, which even Aenti Sarah ought to know was impractical and silly in Pinecraft.
“Thirty days,” she said aloud.
“What?” asked Aenti Sarah, as their waitress and another server delivered their hot meals to the table.
“I want to open in thirty days. After I sign the lease at the real estate office tomorrow morning, Mr. Hostetler is meeting me at the store to go over plans.”
“Henry Hostetler is an excellent contractor, even for a Mennonite.” Aenti Chelle took a bite of her pot roast. “I know he’s excited about the idea of your shop.”
“Gut. I will call him when we get home later, to make sure he remembers he’s meeting me.”
More head shaking from Aenti Sarah. “Telephones. Personal private telephones.”
Betsy opened her mouth, but Aenti Chelle beat her to the response. “It’s a business tool, Sarah. People can reach him anytime and leave a message about work.”
“A little leaven, leaveneth the whole lump.” Aenti Sarah bowed her head to pray silently over her meal, so Betsy continued to hold her peace and did the same.
Please, Gotte, bless this meal, and bless my shop, if it be Your will. And, help me deal with Aenti Sarah.
Thankfully, Sarah seemed to forget about the folder on the table and ate her chicken pot pie, talking about upcoming plans to work with her friends to put in more quilts to sell at auction in January, along with the state of a yard in a nearby mobile home park. She asked if Betsy had noticed the advertisement for herbal energy pills in the latest issue of The Budget.
By the time they’d paid their check, which Aenti Chelle insisted on paying for, and making the short walk to the fresh market, Betsy’s head swam like it did the day she cleaned a client’s whole house when the air conditioner was broken.
“I won’t be long,” Aenti Chelle said as they entered the store, one entire side providing an open-air shopping experience. “I just need a few things for breakfast and lunch.”
“I suppose I should pick up some vegetables while I’m here as well.” Aenti Sarah picked up a plastic basket. “My garden’s hit a dry spell.”
Fascinated by all the products, Betsy strolled the store and wandered past displays. Homemade soup mix, pot pies to take home and bake, fresh local eggs and cheese. Even real maple syrup, apple butter, and honey.
What caught her attention, though, were the baked goods. Breads of all kinds, and whoopee pies. Although she’d just split a piece of peanut butter pie with Aenti Chelle, the chocolate and fluff combination made her mouth water.
Surely, there was a place for her baking in Pinecraft, too. Of course, some likely thought her prideful. No, she knew it was a certainty, not something she supposed.
But then, no one would go into business if they didn’t think they could do a good job and provide something a customer wanted. Such as her Oncle Thomas and his cabinet shop he and her father had run for decades and employed at least twenty people from their local community.
Betsy picked up a trio of pies in a clear plastic clamshell container. No, she wasn’t prideful. Confident would be a better word. She needed to keep it in mind and let the critics say what they may. Aenti Chelle, too, had said she had confidence in Betsy.
“Ready, Bets?” Her aenti had stopped at the register with her basket, Aenti Sarah behind her.
“I’m ready.” She should have budgeted to bring a little extra cash with her as well, to purchase a few items for the home. Another day she’d shop, when she was less tired.
They paid for their purchases and Chelle drove them home in the van, first stopping at Aenti Sarah’s home, part of the legacy of the Yoder family. No, they weren’t related to the Yoder’s restaurant folks, although if they all sat down and showed their family trees, Betsy wouldn’t be surprised if there was a family connection somewhere.
“Good night, Aenti Sarah,” Betsy said as the older woman opened the front passenger door and left the vehicle.
“I’ll see you in the morning. We have much work to do. Be here by six.”
“Six?” Rarely did she go to her cleaning clients’ homes before eight in the morning, waiting until they were gone to their jobs. She never admitted her learned habit to sleep until the last possible moment, but it would have never happened in Ohio.
“All right, then. Eight. Bring your folder and we’ll get your plans in order straightaway.”
Aenti Chelle snickered from where she sat in the driver’s seat.
Betsy left the middle seat of the van and wrangled herself into the passenger seat where Aenti Sarah had just sat.
“I don’t think it’s funny.”
“You know, I’m going to miss having you work for me.” Aenti Chelle pulled away from the side of the street and headed for home.
“Me, too. Working for you never involved me being anywhere at six a.m. I must admit, I’m a bit spoiled.”
“You should be happy she’s compromising with you to meet up at eight a.m.”
“Oh, I am. Believe me.”
“She does mean well.”
“I know.” Betsy watched the neatly trimmed yards glide slowly by as they headed in a zigzag route through the village streets. “I’m nervous about this. I don’t want to let anyone down.”
“You won’t. It won’t always be easy, but if God’s hand is on this, you will do well in the end.”
“I hope so.” She’d thought Gotte was on her side before, about Jacob Miller. How could she have misunderstood? So many questions she had about where she’d misjudged things with Jacob. How could she know she wasn’t making another mistake?
Others seemed so sure of what they were doing, or at least they were good at pretending. If God’s will was to be done, how did she know if she was going against it?
In business, in matters of the heart, she’d try to be like Aenti Chelle, who seemed just fine on her own all these years. If it wasn�
��t God’s will for her to find a husband, she’d do well with the idea. Or, at least convince herself she would be. God would reward her long-suffering and patience, surely.
5
Thad woke to a soft rap on the door. “Supper’s on the stove, Thaddeus.”
He gave an involuntary jerk, then remembered where he was. Pinecraft, in his mammi’s haus. The sun had swung around to the other side of the house and light no longer blazed through the window as brightly.
“Danke, Mammi. I’ll be right out.” He yawned, stretched, and listened. No more voices from the front. The aroma of supper cooking drifted under the door and his stomach responded. What time was it?
Thad sat up on the side of the bed and stretched some more. He left his room and headed for the kitchen. Maybe his socks didn’t smell as ripe as he thought they did.
Mammi would probably smile and shake her head. Mammi, the one who never seemed to mind when he pestered her to let him help in the kitchen when he was small. He didn’t know if she’d be ashamed of his chosen profession. She likely knew about it, if his parents had told her.
He hadn’t been baptized into the Order, but he’d also never been back.
Thad entered the snug kitchen to find his mammi at the stove in front of a pan of something frying.
“Mammi, I’ve slept too long. What time is it?”
“A little after five.” She smiled at him. “You were tired.”
He nodded.
“So, what brings you to my doorstep?”
“I, uh …” He didn’t want to lie, but didn’t want to tell her the truth. He thought of the simplest explanation. “I need somewhere to stay, for a little while, if you have room for me. I can help out.”
“You’re not in trouble with the law, are you?” Her expression narrowed for a millisecond, then she turned to pull the fillets from the hot oil.
“No, no. I’m not in trouble with the law.” As far as he knew, the authorities didn’t suspect him of any wrongdoing, although he couldn’t say the same for anyone at Dish and Spoon.
He waited for several long, drawn-out seconds for her response.
“Well, you can stay. You’d do well to see about getting a job.”
“I plan on it. My job in Ohio—well, the restaurant closed.” That was true enough. “I did bring some cash with me. If you need errands run, or a hand with the lawn, I can help.”
She nodded. “I’m busy, Thaddeus. There’s much going on here in the village, and I’ll only get busier once the snowbirds begin arriving. I do have a neighbor to help with the lawn, though.”
“Do you still have your job at Yoder’s?”
“One day a week. I want to keep working for as long as I can.”
“Gut, gut.” He’d switched to Dietsch, the sound like foreign musical notes to his ears, words he’d thought long forgotten, now spilled from his tongue.
“You remember your speech?” She stepped over to the cabinet for some plates, but not before he saw moisture in her eyes.
“Yes, Mammi, I do remember.”
“Do you remember Gotte, and your Ordnung?”
Thad swallowed hard. “I don’t remember in the same way I do the language.” He bit back more words. The constricting rules, the no questions asked, the all-knowing, all-powerful deity who must be appeased, the never knowing if he was good enough for anyone in the district, let alone Gotte.
He’d reached a point long ago, where he didn’t care to know. Life was much easier and his way seemed to work well for the rest of the world he immersed himself in. Still, the sense of right, wrong, of looking over his shoulder never left.
“No smoking in this haus, no alcoholic beverages. A very few number of Plain people might imbibe, but not me.”
“Yes, Mammi.” He’d quit the cigarettes cold turkey a few months ago after he threw his back out and the doctor had given him a good lecture. And, the smokes were expensive. No drinking in the house didn’t bother him, either.
“I would prefer if you went to services at a good local church.”
“Prefer?”
“I cannot supervise your conscience while I listen to my own, but you need to be in fellowship.”
Fellowship. Sunday had long been his sleeping-in day, when he wasn’t at the restaurant before dawn, working on pastries and baking.
“To be honest, I can’t promise I’ll go to church. But, I’ll think about it.”
“Well, thank you for being honest.” She dished up spoonfuls of steamed vegetables, some onto each plate.
He grabbed the chance to change the subject. “You steamed these?”
“Yes, it’s healthier. I bought these fresh yesterday at the market.”
“I saw the market on the way in. Is it new?”
“A few years old, and so convenient for me.” She picked up a plate. “Here, time to eat. There’s a singing tonight in a bit, if you want to go. At Birky Square.”
“Danke, but no, Mammi.” He inhaled the scent of steamed vegetables, lightly buttered, and seasoned with salt and pepper. The fish, too, smelled as delicious as anything he’d eaten prepared in a chef’s kitchen. He carried his plate to the table. Mammi poured them some drinks. Milk.
“I would have made some pie, if I’d known you were coming,” she said as she sat down across from him.
He switched to English. “It’s okay. I’ll make a pie for you sometime.”
“I heard about your baking.” She paused, taking a bite of her vegetables.
“Ah, so you did.” He followed her example and ate some of his fish. Lightly breaded, lemon and pepper seasoning. Flaky, perfectly cooked. “The fish is good.”
“Rochelle Keim’s nephew Steven caught some and gave me a few. He’s quite the young fisherman. Good Mennonite boy. Quite liberal, though.”
“How old is he now? About nineteen or so?”
Mammi shook her head. “Just turned twenty-three and has his own fishing charter business already. We Plain people keep him busy.”
“Twenty-three?” Yes, time had passed all right, and if he took a moment to do the math, he’d have realized it was a good twelve or thirteen years since he’d visited Pinecraft.
“Right. You won’t get me out on a boat like it, but Chelle goes with him if she’s not working and he has space on the boat.” She fell silent again, studying his tattooed arm.
“Sounds fun to me. Maybe I’ll see if he has space for me, too, sometime.”
“Why ever did you do it?”
“Do what?” He guessed he knew what she meant, but didn’t want to presume.
“Mark your arm up.” She squinted across the table at him, taking in every detail of the ink.
“Well, I liked the design. It’s interesting, not obnoxious like some tattoos.”
“I still don’t understand why someone would adorn themselves and carve into themselves.” Her tone held more disbelief than rudeness.
He couldn’t explain it himself, other than the reason he’d just given her. He liked it. He liked the free expression, and appreciated the artwork of one of the most skilled tattoo artists in the Midwest.
They finished the meal in relative silence, with Mammi occasionally filling him in on the status of one branch of the family or another, his cousins, and his other relatives he’d once been so close to. The thought of winter coming made him pause.
“Mammi, do you know yet who’s coming for winter vacation?”
“Not sure. Your parents, perhaps, and your brothers and sisters if they’re able to afford the trip here, not to mention time off from their jobs.” Mammi shrugged. “They’ll mostly stay here, and Edna Bontrager said she has some apartments coming open for rent during the season.”
“I see.” Well, maybe he’d be gone by December, or January, but probably for sure by February when Pinecraft would brim with snowbirds from parts in the north.
“Have you spoken to them recently?”
“Not since last spring, when I stopped by their haus.” He paused. “I’m sorry about Daa
di. I miss him. I, uh, came to the funeral.” They’d buried his daadi, his daed’s daed, in the spring after the ground thawed in Ohio, the last time he’d spoken to his father.
“Ach, well, he lived a good, long life, and his time on this earth was over. I do miss him, every day.” She set down her fork. “I don’t remember seeing you at the funeral. I know I would have remembered.”
“I sort of stayed back, near the road.” He recalled parking his motorcycle and watching from around the corner of a buggy. He didn’t want anyone to see him, didn’t want to be a distraction or reminder to his family of the pain he’d caused them all.
“I see.”
After the meal, Mammi cleared the table and washed the dishes while Thad brought his duffel bag and jacket to his room. He opened up the duffel, pulling out his phone from the center of the pile, along with his knife set, each knife in its own pocket inside a long, flat, sealed leather case. He stashed the case of knives inside the closet. He wouldn’t need them.
He turned on his phone. Several missed calls from Stacie, several from one number he didn’t recognize. One voice mail.
“Mr. Zook, this is the Columbus, Ohio, Police Department. We need to ask you a few questions about a friend of yours, a Ms. Stacie Brenner.”
*
Rochelle Keim, known to her nieces as Aenti Chelle, sighed as she sorted her laundry. Two weeks away from Pinecraft was two weeks too long. However, she’d made it a priority to return to Ohio to help her family make food for her second cousin’s wedding.
She should have washed one last load before leaving, but she didn’t want to use the old washing tub and wringer. She didn’t think about the prospect of doing laundry and tackling her long list of to-do items concerning her cleaning clients as well as finding a replacement for Betsy once her bakery took off.
Rochelle knew Betsy’s chances of success in Pinecraft were excellent. With the village nestled in a city, Englisch as well as Amish would flock to the store once word got around. With Sarah’s guidance, Betsy would have a good adviser, despite the older woman’s demeanor.
Betsy was busy writing out some recipe cards while Rochelle started the washer.
Of course, Betsy’s heart probably ached after watching the man she’d dreamed of fall in love with an Englisch woman. The newlyweds would be home in Pinecraft soon after concluding their visit to family.
A Path Made Plain Page 4