by Beth Wiseman
After she caught her breath, she eased the waist-high gate open and walked into the yard as gnats buzzed in the tall grass all around her. She wondered why no one had mowed the yard recently.
She walked slowly up the sidewalk, careful of the deep cracks in the concrete every few feet. Turning the doorknob, she was relieved to find the house unlocked. As she pushed the door open, a rank odor shot up her nose, and she recognized the smell right away. Skunk. She stood at the threshold trying to decide whether or not to go in, but she recalled the skunk she’d dealt with a few years ago before she’d moved to a high-rise. It came by most days and sprayed the outside of her apartment building, a place outside of the city and near some woods. That’s probably what was happening here, so she pinched her nose and left the front door open as she moved into the living room. A green lizard clung to the window on the far wall, illuminated by the sliver of sun shining onto the dusty hardwood floors.
Charlotte moved slowly about the room, still clenching her nostrils. A dark-green couch, two wooden chairs, and a small round coffee table were the only furniture in the room, unless you considered the potbelly stove in the corner. There were piles of boxes against the far wall. She eased into the kitchen as perspiration clung to her maroon dress and sweat beaded on her forehead. It took a few minutes to force open a window in the kitchen, but the hot air outside didn’t do much to dissipate the skunk odor inside.
No electricity, of course. No air conditioning. More boxes were on the floor in the kitchen. A thick layer of dust covered the white kitchen counters. She crossed back through the living room, then pushed open the only other door she saw, which led to Ethan’s bedroom. There were clothes piled up in the corner and the unmade bed was piled with boxes that were half-full. It looked like someone had stopped in the middle of packing.
Charlotte pulled back the flap on one of the boxes. She ran her hand across the high school emblem on the front of the yearbook before she picked it up and put it on the bed. As she thumbed through keepsakes from the past, she wondered if Ethan had been packing things up to make room for Hannah until their house was built. Or maybe Hannah had packed this after Ethan died. That seemed a more likely scenario. Maybe he was packing to go back home to Texas since Hannah had said he broke up with her. She moved to the next box, which was already open and filled with plastic glasses.
What happened, Ethan? She put one of the boxes on the floor, dusted off a spot on the bed, then sat down. The smell of skunk wasn’t as bad in this room, but it was just as hot. She went and opened a window before she returned to the bed. Sighing, she glanced around, not knowing what she hoped to gain by being here. All it was doing was making her sad.
She decided to leave, but stopped short of the bedroom door and paused at the four-drawer chest against the wall. The top drawer was half-open and she could see underwear and socks inside. The second drawer was filled with folded T-shirts. Shirts that wouldn’t be allowed here, but ones that represented Ethan’s life and travels. She picked up the one with a picture of the Alamo on the front and recalled Ethan telling her that he and a group of guys were enjoying the Riverwalk in San Antonio and a trip to the Alamo. She flipped through Ethan’s memories—Port Aransas, Galveston, Freeport. Then she got to out-of-state shirts from New York City, Atlanta, and New Jersey.
She reached back into the drawer and took out the T-shirt from Port Aransas. She and Ethan had gone to visit a distant uncle there. She could still remember her mother driving them, hoping that Uncle Phil would take them in, but he hadn’t been in good health. That had been right before they were placed in different foster homes. Charlotte wanted a keepsake of Ethan’s, but she stuffed the shirt back in the drawer, deciding that trip wasn’t a time she wanted to remember.
She was crossing the threshold back into the living room when she felt an invisible nudge to turn around and go back. The closet door was cracked a few inches, so Charlotte reached for the knob and opened the door wider. More boxes. She scanned the small area until her eyes landed on a mothball box in the corner, and Charlotte felt like she’d struck gold as she hurriedly reached for the box. Her heart raced as she picked it up. The box felt empty. But she opened one end and turned it upside down. A single photo fell onto the floor.
She picked up the picture and studied it. The potbelly stove was in the background, so she knew it had been taken in Ethan’s house. But who was the woman in the photo? She was Amish, dressed in the traditional clothing, and holding out her palm, smiling—almost as if she didn’t want her picture taken, but playfully allowing it.
Charlotte looked closer at the picture. She didn’t recognize the woman. But sometimes, it was hard to tell the ladies apart since they dressed so much alike. Disappointed to not have found anything else, she started to put the photo back in the box, but on habit, flipped the picture over first. Written in blue pen was: To my one and only. I love you . . . in neat cursive.
She’d planned to snoop in an effort to find out more about why Ethan took his own life, and she hoped this process might help her to face her grief. But she never expected to find something like this. The skunk smell, along with this finding, was starting to overwhelm her, so she stuffed the photo in the pocket of her black apron, tossed the empty box back into the closet, and sprinted toward the front door.
But when she got to the porch, company awaited her.
Nine
Charlotte hurried down the road back to Hannah’s, thankful it was a downhill trek. She held her breath as much as she could. She’d tried not to move when she’d met her visitor on the porch, but that didn’t stop the black-and-white intruder from spraying her from head to toe. There were two things in life that Charlotte couldn’t stand to smell. Hard-boiled eggs and skunks. Over the years, she’d learned to tolerate the eggs, but she would never get used to this smell.
Once the house was in view, she picked up the pace. Jacob was in the front yard, and as Charlotte got closer, she could see that his telescope had arrived. He waved as she got closer, but Charlotte stopped a good ten feet away from him. When Jacob grimaced and pinched his nostrils, she realized that she should have hung back even farther.
He rattled off a string of Dutch that Charlotte didn’t understand, but he ended with a chuckle. “You’re going to need a tomato bath.” He let go of his nose and waved a hand in front of his face.
“Tomato bath?” Charlotte remembered that she had a date with Isaac later in the afternoon.
“Ya. That will help take away the smell.” He laughed again. “I would ask you to come look through my telescope, but maybe, uh . . . after that bath.”
Charlotte hung her head. Something in the universe was working against her when it came to Isaac. First the green hair, now this. She waved to Jacob and headed toward the house. Hannah met her on the porch.
“I was wondering where you were,” Hannah said, but then her eyes grew round and she backed up until she was against the side of the house. “Skunk!”
Charlotte couldn’t help but grin while she walked up the porch steps. “I went for a walk. Jacob said I need a tomato bath. Does that take the smell away?”
Hannah pinched her nose. “Ya. I will go gather some tomatoes and see how much sauce we have. Mamm usually keeps some store-bought sauce for unexpected guests or emergencies.” She grinned. “And this is surely an emergency.”
“Ugh. Tomatoes don’t sound nearly as good as that goat-milk stuff your mom makes to put in the bathwater. I’ll get out of these clothes while you find everything.” Charlotte moved toward the screen door.
Hannah burst out laughing. “Ach, nee! You can’t come in. There is an old claw-foot tub in the barn.” She pointed behind Charlotte. “Mamm makes Daed and Jacob bathe outside when they are really dirty, and Jacob met up with a skunk once too. Come to think of it, ma
ybe that’s why Jacob doesn’t like tomato sauce!”
Charlotte turned toward the barn, then back to Hannah. “You expect me to take a bath in an old tub in the barn?”
Hannah smiled. “Of course.” She spun around and went inside.
Charlotte sat down on the porch step, longing for a spa day back in Houston, followed up by a nail and toes appointment, then finishing off at the hair salon. Getting her hair done was a necessity in her mind. The spa day was something she sprung for after she’d finished a big project. She was going to consider this entire endeavor one big project. She took a deep breath, but nearly choked on her own smell, so she held her nose and waited.
This was one bath she was not looking forward to.
About ten minutes later, Hannah supplied her with several jars of tomato sauce, some fresh tomatoes, and a water hose, and Charlotte trudged to the barn in the wake of Hannah’s giggles.
She filled up the claw-foot tub, dumped everything in, then stared at the red water with clumps of tomato floating on top. After glancing around the barn, she eased one foot into the cold water, then slowly lowered herself in. Wearing nothing but her prayer covering, in an effort to keep her hair up and away from the water, she tried to relax. But this experience would forever remain in the top five grossest things she’d ever done.
After her soak, she tucked her head into the crook of her arm. All she’d done was add the aroma of tomato sauce to the skunk smell. One day she’d laugh about this. This was not that day.
After Googling other remedies to get rid of the smell, she asked Hannah to help her concoct a solution using hydrogen peroxide and baking soda. Two baths later, she could finally tolerate herself, but she wasn’t going to torture Isaac by exposing him to the smell, albeit faint, of skunk pizza. So she called and canceled their picnic, hoping he wouldn’t be too upset.
Isaac had surprised himself by asking Mary to go on another picnic, but he enjoyed her stories, and it would’ve been nice to be away from his parents and all the fighting. He was a little disappointed when she canceled, although he could certainly understand why. Even though he was more interested in spending time with Hannah, Isaac didn’t think she was ready to date. Just the same, his friendly interactions with Mary made him feel a little guilty. He didn’t want to lead her on.
“I caught the tail end of your conversation with Mary,” his mother said, walking into the living room. “That’s terrible that she got sprayed by a skunk.”
Isaac scratched his head. “Ya, I know. She must have scared the animal or something while she was on her walk. They aren’t normally aggressive.” Now that he had the day to himself, he was wondering what to do. “Where’s Daed?”
“I don’t know.” His mother pushed one shoulder forward, tipped her chin down, and closed her eyes for a few moments. She held the expression long enough to make her point, then sighed. “I’m just glad he’s not inside this house. It’s gut for him to be outside busying himself.”
Isaac looked out the window, but saw no sign of his father. “I hate it when the two of you fight,” he finally said when he turned back to her.
“We never used to.” She sat on the couch, still clutching a towel she’d brought from the kitchen. “But his cancer has been in remission for a while. I’ve tended to him from the beginning, and I sympathize that he lost his leg. But he didn’t lose his life, and he needs to be grateful to the Lord for that, not bitter and constantly saying he is now half a man.” She twisted the towel until it looked like a pretzel. “It’s my fault. I should have encouraged him to do more from the beginning.”
Isaac could still recall when his father was diagnosed. They’d all been devastated to learn he had bone cancer in his right leg. And even worse was the fact that Daed’s affected area was too large to be able to save his leg. Isaac sat down beside her. “What can I do to help?”
His mother twisted to face him and pressed her lips together as she slapped the towel to her leg. “Start the repairs on the daadi haus.”
Isaac’s jaw dropped a little. “Mamm. I don’t know when I’ll have time to . . .”
“Make time. What are you doing now? Nothing. Go down to the house and give it a good look-over and make a list of what needs to get done. You know that folks in the community will help.”
It was a large undertaking. Isaac looked at his mamm. “Why now?”
Mamm chuckled. “Do you want to live here with us forever? Now that you’re dating again, I think you need to make those repairs a priority so that your father and I can move there one day, as it should be.”
He wanted to tell his mother that he wasn’t exactly dating Mary, but this was the first mention of repairing the daadi haus in a very long time—years. This was his mother’s way of encouraging him to find a fraa. He nodded. “Okay. I’ll go find Daed. Maybe he’ll want to help me.”
“Or maybe he won’t.” Mamm put her hands on her hips. “Either way, sohn, I want you to work on that haus.”
Isaac nodded again, then left to find his father. Sometimes, his daed went to the barn and smoked a cigar. His mother hated that habit, and sometimes Isaac thought that was the only reason his father partook in a practice that was known to cause cancer. Even though the type of cancer his father had was rare, smoking cigars wasn’t healthy, and everyone knew it, despite the smoking that went on in barns before and after worship service.
He pushed the barn door wide and waited for his eyes to adjust. He spotted a figure facedown near a pile of hay. “Daed!”
When Isaac got to him, he fell to his knees and rolled his father onto his back, relieved when he opened his eyes. “Daed, what happened?” Isaac glanced at his father’s leg. His prosthesis was attached. Isaac helped his father to his feet.
“I guess I must have tripped and hit my head.” He pointed to the corner of his workbench as he ran his other hand across the back of his head. “Just a little bump, but enough to knock me out, I guess. Gut thing you came out here. Your mamm wouldn’t have come looking for me.”
There was such bitterness in his voice, Isaac almost cringed to hear him talk about his mother like that; the woman who had spent the last three years giving up so much of what she loved to make sure that his needs were met. Isaac couldn’t recall the last time she’d gone to one of her quilting gatherings or to lunch at a friend’s house. She used to read a lot too. The only thing she attended anymore was the monthly Sisters’ Day.
“Daed, she would have come looking for you.” Isaac brushed the dirt and hay from his pants. “Mamm wants me to work on the daadi haus, so I was wondering if you wanted to help me make a list so I can get started.”
Scowling, his father shook his head. “We aren’t taking on that project when there are so many other projects that need to be handled.” He pointed to his workbench. “I have a list written down on that pad.”
Isaac took a couple of steps, found the white pad of paper, and read:
1. Paint the back fence
2. Call the farrier
3. Replace boards at east end of porch and repaint porch
4. Take all money out of bank and put in new bank
Isaac paused, looked at his father. “Why are you moving your money?”
His father huffed. “Because the Englisch man at the bank is stealing it.”
Isaac stared at his father for a few moments before he returned to the list. Mr. Franklin had been their business and personal banker for as long as Isaac could remember.
5. Replace cracked windowpane in the mudroom
Isaac hadn’t even noticed that it was in need of repair.
6. Clean the fireplace
7. Chop up Anna Ruth before first freeze
> Isaac’s heart skipped a beat. “Daed . . .” He walked to his father and pointed to number seven. “Did you mean chop up wood before first freeze?”
His father chuckled, then broke into a full-belly laugh. “Ya, ya. Of course that’s what I meant.”
Isaac didn’t laugh and went back to the list.
8. Take inventory at the furniture store
Phyllis and Tom had been doing inventory at the store for years, but Isaac kept reading.
9. Grease snow plow, general maintenance
10. Replace missing slat on east side of barn
Isaac set the pad down. “Daed, none of these are huge projects. I think we will still have time to work on the daadi haus.”
His father shook his head. “Nee, nee. Chopping your mother up will take some time.” He patted Isaac on the shoulder as he passed him and went out of the barn. Isaac sprung into step right behind him.
This time he would have to agree with his father. No time to repair the daadi haus. Isaac would be busy making sure his mother wasn’t alone with his father.
Charlotte made her way up the stairs behind Hannah and Jacob. After devotions, they’d all splurged on a second piece of chocolate pie. Like the rest of them, Charlotte had eaten a piece following supper, but she didn’t have the self-discipline to turn down a second helping when Jacob suggested it. She closed the bedroom door behind her and turned on the battery-operated fan. After she positioned it in front of the open window, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse.
“I was starting to wonder if you’d gone full Amish,” Ryan said when he answered. “I hadn’t heard from you in a while.”
Charlotte had only talked to Ryan once since her date with Isaac. She’d told him then that she thought Isaac might know something about Ethan’s death, but the conversation had ended abruptly when Ryan said someone was at his door. It was the first time Charlotte had wondered about Ryan’s dating life. Was his visitor a woman? It had been a random thought, but bugged her a little just the same.