“Peter knows a lot about harvesting potatoes. Before my groossdaadi’s bruder, Amos, died and left Groossdaadi the bauerei, Peter used to help with both planting and harvesting. He was a lot younger then, but I’m sure he still remembers. So I assume he agreed to help now as a favor because Lydia’s seh couldn’t kumme this season.” Susannah tugged on Dorcas’s sleeve to keep her moving; this was supposed to be a brisk walk, not a leisurely stroll.
“Maybe.” Dorcas started forward again, but she still wasn’t matching Susannah’s pace. “Or maybe it’s because he heard you were returning to New Hope. Maybe he wanted a second chance at courting you, so he thought this would be a gut way to be around you again.”
“Ha! As if I’d ever accept him as a suitor again.”
“You wouldn’t? Not ever?”
“Neh. Never. But that’s not why he’s working on the bauerei. He didn’t know I’d be here. He seemed as shocked to see me as I was to see him.”
“You’ve already seen each other?”
“Not only have I seen him, but I’ve eaten lunch with him every day.” Susannah told her that Lydia had insisted all of the crew members eat together. After the first day, she’d asked Marshall to add another leaf to the table so there would be room for Susannah to join them, too. As if that weren’t awkward enough, Lydia had decided her granddaughter should sit in between Benuel, who was overly friendly, and Peter, who hardly said a word to her—nor did she speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Susannah thought the situation would have made her feel too flustered to eat anything at all, but instead she’d been nervously cramming food into her mouth, barely noticing how it tasted or how much she’d consumed.
“Was Peter surprised about your weight loss?”
“As I said, we’ve hardly spoken to each other. But judging from the fact he didn’t even recognize me when he saw me, jah, I’d say he was surprised.”
Dorcas gleefully rubbed her hands together. “That must have been so satisfying!”
Neh, it was actually quite hurtful, Susannah thought. “I didn’t lose weight for other people’s approval. I changed my familye’s diet so we’d be healthier. And because I’ve kumme to realize how important it is to take care of the bodies Gott has given us.”
“I know, I know. But considering how devastated you were when Peter broke up with you because you were overweight, I’d think it would feel gut to show him how thin you’ve become. Admit it—didn’t you feel a tiny bit smug?”
“You mean prideful? Neh, I can honestly say I didn’t.” Susannah used her chin to gesture toward the buggy coming up the road. “Shh. That might be him returning from the potato haus now.”
But as the buggy neared, she saw it was Benuel, not Peter, holding the reins. He slowed the horse to a halt just before he reached them and gazed down at Susannah. “Hi, Susannah. Who’s your friend?”
Before Susannah could respond, Dorcas said, “You know who I am, Benuel. We’ve met several times in Serenity Ridge.”
He pushed back his hat and squinted at her. “Ah, right. Sorry, Naomi.”
“My name is Dorcas,” Susannah’s friend huffed.
Ignoring her disgusted reaction, Benuel addressed Susannah. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”
“Neh. We’re enjoying our walk. Besides, my groossdaadi is paying you to transport potatoes, not passengers.” Susannah intended to remind Benuel in a lighthearted way that he had work to do, but he seemed to think she was bantering with him.
“Maybe, but how can he blame me for wanting to take you for a ride when your eyes are so much prettier than a potato’s?” Benuel replied with a wink.
Susannah’s cheeks blazed from embarrassment. Speechless, she twirled and took off in the direction of the mailbox, with Dorcas in close pursuit. After hearing Benuel’s wagon depart in the opposite direction, Susannah spluttered, “Can you believe how gutsy he is? He must have picked up that brash attitude from the Englisch during his extended rumspringa. They might think that kind of remark is complimentary, but I find it utterly offensive.”
“You think you’re offended?” Dorcas exclaimed. “I’ve been personally introduced to him at least three times in the past four months and he didn’t have any clue what my name is. Plus, he flirted with you right in front of me. It’s as if I’m invisible, which is narrish, considering I take up a lot more space than you do.”
“Don’t make jokes like that, Dorcas.”
“Who’s joking? It’s the truth and you know it. Benuel acted as if I don’t exist because he doesn’t think I’m as attractive as you are.”
“That’s lecherich. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“Exactly—and in his eyes, I’m too heavy to be beautiful.”
Sadly, Susannah knew Dorcas was probably right about Benuel’s perspective, so instead of denying it, she said, “If that’s true, then I wish I was heavy again—it would be better than being the object of his flirtatious remarks. Or the object of anyone’s remarks.”
“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” Dorcas asked as Susannah retrieved the mail from the box. “I mean, I know Benuel comes on too strong, but I’m sure other people have complimented you on your weight loss and appearance. You have to admit, it must be encouraging to hear such positive comments.”
“I won’t admit any such thing because it’s not true,” Susannah countered defensively. “I wish people would stop talking about my weight altogether.”
“Fine with me,” Dorcas said, and Susannah recognized the edge to her voice. She’d heard it in other people’s voices before, but she made no apology for her request. The women walked in silence until they almost reached the house again. It was beginning to drizzle, but Susannah figured if they hurried, they could make it to the tree line and back before the skies really opened up.
“Let’s keep walking,” she suggested. “I’ve been cooped up in the haus all week. Lydia never wants to go outside and she doesn’t want me to go out, either.”
“Shouldn’t we take your laundry in first?”
“It’ll be okay.” Wheedling her friend, Susannah said, “When we get back we’ll go inside for tea and you can have some of the oatmeal kuche I made, too.”
“Oh, so you think you can bribe your chubby friend into exercising by offering her kuche?”
“Neh. That’s not why I—”
Dorcas nudged Susannah’s arm. “I’m only kidding. Of course, we can keep walking if it means that much to you. The extra exercise would be gut for me, too.”
“Denki.” The tension between them dissolved, and Susannah admitted how challenging it was to spend nearly every minute of the day in Lydia’s company.
“Then you ought to kumme to the work frolic my schweschdere and I are organizing for Elizabeth Hilty on Samschdaag. She’s been in the hospital with pneumonia but she’s coming home on Muundaag. So some of the weibsleit from our district are cleaning her haus and stocking her freezer with meals that we’ll prepare in her kitchen, since her husband will be away visiting her in the hospital all day.”
“That sounds like schpass. I’d love to join you, as long as I can bring Lydia with me. She won’t be able to do much, but she’ll probably appreciate being around other weibsleit as much as I will.”
As they discussed the details of the work frolic, it began drizzling harder. Even though they hadn’t reached the tree line yet, Susannah conceded that they should return to the house. They’d barely gone twenty yards when the clouds burst, pelting them with a torrent of raindrops.
“The clothes!” Remembering the laundry on the line, Susannah was delighted for the excuse to break into a sprint. “We’d better make a dash for it.”
“They’re going to be drenched no matter how quickly we get there,” Dorcas objected. “And so are we. Wet is wet.”
“Dawdle if you want, but I’m going to run. I’ll meet yo
u back there.” Susannah charged forward, head down. She loved running like this, her heart beating so hard she could hear it in her ears, her breathing heavy, her feet slapping the damp ground. Because she’d previously been overweight for so long, she hadn’t run this fast since she was a young girl, and as she barreled forward, she felt as vibrant and powerful as a wild horse.
“Whoa!” someone said just as that thought entered her mind.
Susannah glanced up to see Peter standing frozen, hands out, palms up, directly in her path. Attempting to stop, she skidded across the wet dirt, almost as if on ice skates, before thudding backward onto her rump. Although she broke her fall with the palms of her hands, she landed so hard she bounced, but even that didn’t hurt her physically as much as it wounded her pride.
“Are you all right?” he asked, towering above her.
“Jah,” she replied, too abashed to look up at him. She reached behind her head to refasten her prayer kapp, trying to gather her composure. While she was pinning it into place, Peter opened the black umbrella he’d had tucked beneath his arm and held it above her, shielding her from the rain. He offered her his free hand but she rose to her feet without any help from him. A moment later, Dorcas joined them.
“Are you okay, Susannah?” She was either panting or laughing...or a little bit of both.
“Jah.” Susannah couldn’t say the same for the skirt of her dress, which was dirty, as well as wet.
Dorcas turned her attention to Peter. “Hello.” She greeted him cordially, as if they were at a singing instead of standing in the pouring rain. “I’m surprised to see you here on the farm. I thought your business would keep you too busy to help Marshall with the harvest.”
Susannah didn’t appreciate Dorcas’s line of questioning and she started walking—limping, actually—toward the house. She’d rather get soaked to the bone than walk beneath the umbrella with Peter. He and Dorcas followed closely enough that she was still within earshot of their conversation.
“I—I agreed last winter I’d help him. Hannes can manage the shop without me since this is a slow time of year for picnic-table orders.”
“Oh. I see. Well, that’s nice of you.” Dorcas’s voice sounded sweeter than usual. Almost lilting. “Why did you kumme to this part of the farm? I didn’t see anyone else out this way.”
Susannah had wondered the same thing, but she’d been too humiliated from taking a spill to ask.
“Lydia saw me bringing some barrels into the barn and she called me over to take the umbrella to you two. She’d noticed it was drizzling and she was concerned you’d get wet.”
“Ha!” Susannah sputtered. Lydia’s matchmaking attempts were so obvious. Over her shoulder she remarked, “She should have been more concerned I’d get muddy. Why didn’t you move out of my way when you saw me coming?”
“There wasn’t enough time. I heard footsteps, glanced up and there you were, heading toward me like a freight train.”
For as much weight as she’d lost, Susannah still bristled at being compared to a freight train. Dorcas, however, cracked up. “You really were running full steam ahead, Susannah. I didn’t have time to call out a warning to either of you.” She giggled again, then asked Peter, “Are you menner done picking potatoes for the afternoon?”
“Jah. The rain looks like it’s going to keep up for a while and we don’t want the potatoes to sprout or rot. So we’ll wait until the sky is clear tomorrow and the ground has had a chance to dry.”
“In that case, do you mind giving me a ride home? I don’t have an umbrella and unlike my friend Susannah here, I get a little chilly from walking in the rain.”
“We’re going to have tea—that should warm you up,” Susannah reminded her. “And I can give you a ride home afterward.”
“Won’t you need to start supper, since your groossdaadi is coming in early?”
It almost seemed as if Dorcas actually preferred to go with Peter. “I’m sure Groossdaadi won’t mind if I serve supper at our usual time.”
“No need for that,” Peter said. “Your haus is on my way, Dorcas. I’m hallich to give you a ride. I’ve got to help stable the geil and put away the equipment so it will be a few minutes before we can leave.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be ready whenever you are.” There it was again, that dulcet tone. Why was Dorcas being so sweet to Peter?
She must be trying to compensate for my brusqueness, Susannah thought as he walked away and the two women pulled the wet clothes from the line. Instead of feeling sorry for being inhospitable toward Peter, she resented Dorcas’s affability. It’s easy enough for her to act so pleasant to him. She’s not the one whose heart he broke. And she’s not the one he caused to fall on her backside, either!
When Susannah and Dorcas entered the house, Lydia was right there at the door with a dry towel for each of them. Apparently, she’d watched the entire scene unfold from the window. “Why didn’t you walk beneath the umbrella with Peter and Dorcas?” she asked incredulously. “And why were you running in the first place? You’re fortunate you didn’t end up falling and breaking your wrist, too. Then what would we have done?”
I would have been able to go back to Delaware, Susannah thought. A broken wrist seemed like a small price to pay for the freedom of being able to take a nice long walk outdoors whenever she wanted—especially if it meant she could take that nice long walk in a state that was six hundred miles away from Peter.
* * *
“Where have you been?” Marshall asked when Peter reached the barn. Benuel was nowhere in sight and Conrad and Jacob were wiping mud and grease from the mechanical potato digger.
“Lydia asked me to bring Susannah and her friend an umbrella.” Peter hoped that by mentioning it was Lydia’s idea, he’d spare himself a lecture from Marshall, but he was wrong.
“You’re not here to run errands or socialize with the weibsleit—you’re here to help with the harvest,” Marshall retorted. “The crew took care of stabling the geil and bringing in the equipment. You can gather the rest of the empty barrels, wipe them dry and turn them upside down. C’mon, buwe, let’s go inside for a hot drink and something to eat.”
Peter waited until they’d left to walk back out into the rain himself. The water dripped off the rim of his hat and ran down his back, but he didn’t mind. It’s not as if I’m going to melt, the way Lydia seems to worry Susannah will, he thought.
He didn’t understand Lydia and Marshall’s protectiveness toward their granddaughter. They coddled her as if she was an infirm child instead of a healthy adult woman. Except for when she was hanging out or taking in the laundry, Peter had rarely caught sight of her outdoors this week. She didn’t even pick the potatoes she served at lunchtime—Benuel did it for her.
Up until this afternoon, Peter had entertained the possibility that she’d been ill; maybe that was why she’d lost weight. But seeing her bolting toward him faster than lighting a few minutes ago had eliminated that question from his mind. There was clearly nothing wrong with her health.
Is it that she’s spoiled? Or...lazy? Although pride was considered one of the worst—if not the worst—character traits an Amish person could have, laziness was a close second. Peter felt judgmental for even contemplating whether Susannah lacked a strong work ethic. After all, he suspected that’s how some people viewed his mother and nothing could have been further from the truth. Besides, the summer they were courting, Peter had seen Susannah at plenty of work frolics and she’d always been very industrious.
Whatever Susannah does or doesn’t do while she’s at her groossdaadi’s haus is really none of my business, he reminded himself as he stacked the half barrels on top of each other so he could make fewer return trips to the barn. But what was his business was how Susannah treated him.
Even though Peter knew he was at fault for having wronged her—for having broken up with her without giving her any real reaso
n—it still bothered him that she clearly couldn’t stand to be in his company. At lunchtime, she always inched her chair as far from him as she possibly could without bumping into Benuel on her other side. The most she’d ever spoken to him while they were eating was to ask him to pass the pepper.
And just now she’d demonstrated further evidence of her revulsion toward him by refusing to accept his offer to help her toward her feet. She’d rather sit in the mud than touch my hand, he thought. So much had changed since the previous Christmas, when they’d both walked three miles in twenty-degree weather just so they could spend one hour alone with each other at Little Loon Pond. As frigid as the weather had been, they’d removed their gloves to hold hands because it seemed more romantic that way...
Peter shivered and glanced up at the darkening sky. If this rain keeps up, we won’t be able to pick potatoes tomorrow, either, he thought. While he’d appreciate giving his back and shoulder muscles a break from the arduous labor, Peter wished they could finish harvesting as soon as possible.
Dear Gott, please help me have a better attitude about keeping my end of the agreement I made with Marshall, he silently prayed. I know that without his financial help, Hannes might have gone to jail. So please help me to be more grateful for this opportunity and to complete it in a way that honors You. And please show me what to do or say to help Susannah feel more comfortable about my presence on the farm.
As it was, Peter hoped that by offering to take Dorcas home, he’d be sparing Susannah the inconvenience of hitching the horse and taking her friend home herself. In turn, Marshall’s supper wouldn’t be delayed. But twenty minutes later, when he went up to the house to tell Dorcas he was ready to leave, Peter regretted his offer of transportation.
“She’ll be out in a minute,” Marshall told him, stepping onto the porch. Once he’d closed the door behind him, he added in a low voice, “As long as you keep away from Susannah, it’s none of my business who you court. But this is the last time I’ll remind you that while you’re on my bauerei, you’re here to work, not to socialize.”
An Unexpected Amish Harvest Page 6