Peter narrowed his eyes. What was Marshall talking about? Then it dawned on him: he thought Peter was interested in Dorcas and that’s why he was giving her a ride home. The notion was preposterous—not because Dorcas wasn’t a perfectly kind and winsome woman. But because even if he didn’t think of her in a sisterly sort of way, Peter had absolutely no inclination to strike up a courtship with her or anyone else, especially not under Marshall’s watchful eye. Swallowing his indignation, Peter nodded his agreement, just as Dorcas came out of the house.
Whatever she chattered about on the way home went in one of Peter’s ears and out the other; all he could think about was how wrong Marshall was about him. He’d been wrong about why Peter had needed money last winter and he was wrong about why Peter offered to give Dorcas a ride home this afternoon. And even though he’d just prayed that the Lord would give him a better attitude, Peter mentally wrestled with feelings of resentment all the way home.
By the time he arrived at his own house, he had half a mind to tell Hannes that he was going to have to finish harvesting the potato crop. If he didn’t like it, that was just plain tough. As for Marshall’s reaction, Peter supposed the old farmer would be pleased not to have to worry that Peter was going to waste valuable work time pursuing Susannah’s friends. But he ultimately overcame the temptation to quit, knowing that it wouldn’t have been the honorable thing to do, even if it seemed justifiable at the moment.
“Hi, Eva. Where are Hannes and Mamm?” he asked when he entered the kitchen.
“Hannes is doing the second milking. Mamm’s in bed.”
“Already?”
“She’s in bed still. Hannes said she stayed there all day. She was resting when I came home. I tried to get her to kumme into the kitchen and visit with me while I made supper but she didn’t want to get up.”
Peter went down the hall and knocked on his mother’s bedroom door. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again and then entered. “Mamm? Are you okay?”
She stirred but didn’t sit up. “Jah. Just tired.”
Although it was going to be dark soon, Peter raised the shades on both of her windows. “I know you are, Mamm, but it’s important that you get out of bed each day unless you’re actually physically ill.”
“Mmm. I will. In a minute.” But she pulled the covers over her shoulder and rolled over.
What would Daed do if he were here? Peter asked himself, rubbing his forehead. He supposed his father would have convinced Dorothy to go to the doctor. But Peter had no idea what his dad would have said to persuade her, and even though Peter was an adult, he believed it was still important to obey God’s command to honor his parents. And right now that meant respecting his mother’s wish to be left alone, so he turned and went to wash up before supper.
While the three siblings were eating their meal—fried fish Eva had purchased from the frozen-food section at the market—she asked, “What did Susannah serve today?”
Ever since Peter had told his sister that Susannah made lunch for the crew, Eva had become preoccupied with what she’d served them. Apparently, the summer he and Susannah were courting, she’d made blueberry crumb bars that had really left an impression on Peter’s sister. “She called it cabbage-crust pizza.”
“The crust was made out of cabbage?” Eva wrinkled her forehead. “Was it gut?”
“Jah. It was appenditlich.” Everything Susannah had made was delicious. To be honest, her meals were the highlight of Peter’s day on the farm. Which was saying a lot, considering how nerve-racking it was to sit at the table with her on one side and Marshall on the other. But once he began eating, Peter would forget about everything except the taste of whatever meal she had prepared.
Apparently, the same was true for the other men, because even though Jacob and Conrad had complained about eating yogurt on Monday, they hadn’t voiced any dissatisfaction since then and neither had Lydia. Benuel was especially complimentary about Susannah’s cooking, but in general everyone would devour the food until the serving dishes were empty. They rarely had enough time to lean back in their chairs and pat their stomachs before Marshall would rush them out the door and into the fields.
“There’s going to be a work frolic at the Hiltys’ home on Samschdaag to make food and clean house for Elizabeth. I don’t mind walking there and back, so do you care if I go?” Eva asked her brothers.
“Mamm shouldn’t be left home alone,” Peter objected.
“But can’t Hannes look in on her like he usually does when I’m in schul? She’ll probably stay in bed most of the day, anyway.”
Hannes chimed in, “That’s fine with me. The shop’s only open until two and I can take frequent breaks since we don’t have any new orders to fill.”
“None at all?” Peter had expected business to slow down at this time of year, but he didn’t expect it to stop altogether. While they’d recovered from the financial setback after Hannes totaled the car, Peter hoped to pad their emergency-savings fund. Especially since they might need to dip into it if it turned out his mother had a severe health issue that required ongoing treatment.
“Neh. Not right now. But don’t worry. I’m using our current supplies to get a jump on our next big order. I figure it’s a way to save time without spending money.”
While Peter was relieved that his brother was finally learning to take initiative, he still had qualms about Eva going off to a frolic and leaving their mother alone. Dorothy spent so much of the week by herself already and the weekends were a good opportunity for Eva to put in a little more effort to coax her out of bed.
“Please, Peter?” she pleaded, clasping her hands beneath her chin, her eyes filled with hope.
“Aw, you should let her go,” Hannes commented to his brother. “You remember what it’s like to be young and to want to socialize with your friends.”
“Jah, you’re right,” Peter agreed, even though at the moment he felt so encumbered with concerns that he could hardly recall ever being young, and socializing was the last thing on his mind...no matter what Marshall Sommer believed about him.
Chapter Five
Susannah’s grandfather had said he expected the rain to last until early Friday morning, but it kept up throughout the day, which meant the men couldn’t harvest. In Delaware, Susannah lived with her father, brother, sister-in-law, and five nieces and nephews, so she was used to a bustling household. However, she hadn’t realized quite how small her grandfather’s house was until she had spent an entire day indoors with four other people. Not only was Lydia right there at her elbow every time Susannah turned around, but Susannah also felt as if she was constantly asking Jacob or Conrad to pull their feet in so she wouldn’t trip as she passed by their chairs in the kitchen or living room.
Furthermore, even though they’d gotten far less physical activity than they would have picking potatoes, the teenagers were hungrier than they’d been all week. Susannah would just finish putting away the dishes from one meal when they’d ask if there was anything they could snack on until she made the next meal. Unfortunately, a couple of times she caught herself nibbling on the treats she’d prepared for them simply because she was antsy about being in such close quarters with everyone all day.
To add to her sense of the walls closing in, Lydia had said she didn’t want to go to the frolic on Saturday. That meant Susannah had to stay home with her, as Lydia couldn’t be—or wouldn’t allow herself to be—left alone in the house for that amount of time.
So when Susannah woke on Saturday morning to the sound of drops pattering against the windowpanes, she was delighted. This means I can go to the frolic after all, since Groossdaadi, Jacob and Conrad will be home with Lydia, she thought.
She quickly got up and got dressed, but she noticed her skirt felt a little too snug around her waist. Like many Amish women, Susannah used straight pins instead of buttons to fasten her garments, so adjusting the closure for
a more comfortable fit was easily done. However, it distressed Susannah that she needed to let out the skirt.
She went into the kitchen to begin making bread before anyone else woke up. As she was kneading the dough, she reflected on the meals she’d been preparing the last week. She had done her best to balance Lydia and Marshall’s food preferences with healthier ingredients, and she’d been pleased that after Monday, they’d seemed content with what she’d served them. The trick, she’d learned, was to discreetly slip in or disguise the more nutritious substitutions—no small feat, considering Lydia shadowed her constantly.
However, she recognized from how bloated she’d become that she’d been eating too much. The lack of exercise didn’t help matters, either. Oh, well, at least I’ll be walking to the Hiltys’ haus today and I can just munch on vegetables for lunch, the way I’d do if I were home, she planned.
She had zipped through her morning chores, including fixing breakfast, washing the dishes and sweeping the floors by nine thirty. She’d also prepared a cauliflower casserole that one of the boys could slide into the oven to bake for lunch, as Lydia wouldn’t be able to manage the heavy pan on her own.
“I expect to leave the Hiltys’ haus by three o’clock at the latest,” she said as she put on her coat and grabbed an umbrella from the hook on the wall.
Her grandfather chuckled. “Slow down, Susannah. I haven’t even hitched the gaul yet.”
“No need to do that, Groossdaadi. I’m going to walk.”
“In this weather?” Lydia asked, butting in. “We don’t want you ending up with pneumonia, like Elizabeth did. Isn’t that right, Marshall?”
“Jah. I’ll go bring the buggy around.”
Susannah was so exasperated she felt like screaming and stamping her foot, but then she would have been behaving as childishly as her grandparents were treating her. So she waited until she got into the buggy a few minutes later to discuss the subject in a calm, direct manner.
“You know, Groossdaadi, when I’m at home in Dover, I don’t think twice about walking a few miles to the market or to my friend’s haus if the buggy isn’t available. I enjoy the fresh air and exercise. You really didn’t need to trouble yourself to take me to the frolic.”
“It’s no trouble—it’s my responsibility to take gut care of my familye. Our community is smaller and more spread out than yours is in Delaware and you aren’t used to these roads.”
Aha, I get it—Groossdaadi isn’t giving me a ride because he’s treating me like a kind or because he’s trying to stop me from doing what I want to do, Susannah realized. He’s giving me a ride because he sees it as his responsibility as the head of his household. Even though his perspective seemed old-fashioned to her, she appreciated his intentions. “Denki for looking out for me, Groossdaadi. I always feel very well-cared for when I kumme here.”
Marshall cleared his throat. “Of course, there are more important ways of being a gut provider than giving a weibsmensch a ride in a buggy on a rainy day. Earning a decent living is one of them.”
Now Susannah was perplexed. What was Marshall implying? He knew Susannah’s father, a corn and soybean farmer, had frequently struggled to make ends meet. But while Susannah’s family may have been among the poorer families in their district, she’d always believed they were one of the happiest.
Her grandfather looked straight ahead and adjusted his hat, as if he was embarrassed. “When it comes time for you to decide whether a young mann might make a suitable husband, I hope you’ll consider his sense of financial responsibility, as well as his other qualities. For example, I happen to know that Benuel Heiser saved a good deal of the money he made while working with the Englisch. He may have made errors in judgment during his rumspringa, but he deserves credit for planning ahead about how to provide for a familye once he returned to the Amish.”
Susannah couldn’t help herself; she laughed out loud. “I don’t know what Lydia has told you, but trust me, Groossdaadi, I’m not assessing any mann, rich or poor, to determine if he’d make a gut husband.” She glanced over at him and noticed his cheeks were crimson. His wife must have put him up to having this embarrassing conversation with his granddaughter, the poor man.
By way of changing the subject, Susannah began humming one of the hymns they’d sung at church the previous Sunday. After a few bars, they both began singing, loudly and slightly off-key, just like when they’d travel by buggy together when she was a young girl. And by the time she arrived at the Hiltys’ house, Susannah had forgotten about her tight skirt or how frustrated she’d felt about Lydia thwarting her plans to walk to the frolic.
“Hi, Susannah,” Dorcas said, greeting her at the door. “Kumme into the kitchen. We’re having a snack before we get started.”
Susannah had met most of the other women and teenage girls at church. And as the rest of them introduced themselves, she was glad Lydia had decided to stay home after all. This was a younger group of mostly unmarried women and she probably would have gotten restless and wanted to leave earlier than three o’clock.
“Do you want a cinnamon roll?” a woman named Faith asked, extending a pan. “I just finished icing them.”
“She doesn’t eat sweets,” Honor answered before Susannah could speak up for herself.
It was true that last Sunday Susannah had told Honor that she didn’t usually eat sweets anymore, which was stretching the truth a little, since she did have dessert on occasion. The reason she’d told her that was because Honor had offered her a slice of pound cake that she’d brought to church...and Honor was a notoriously inept baker and cook. If Susannah was going to indulge, she wanted to thoroughly enjoy the treat. The cinnamon rolls that Faith had made smelled as tantalizing as they looked, so despite her expanding waistline, Susannah actually did want one.
“Oh, sorry.” Faith turned and set the pan on the counter. “Is that how you got so skinny?”
“Susannah doesn’t like it if you talk about her appearance,” Dorcas interjected. She nonchalantly licked the top of her cinnamon roll as if it was an ice-cream cone. “She doesn’t want people to think she’s vain.”
Susannah’s mouth dropped open in surprise at her friend’s remark. It almost seemed as if Dorcas was implying that Susannah was vain, but she didn’t want people to think she was. She still doesn’t believe I’m uneasy receiving all of this uninvited attention. Susannah thoughts were interrupted by a loud cracking noise in the hallway.
It was followed by the sound of a woman wailing. “Oh, neh! Look what I did!”
All of the women rushed into the hallway to find Hannah Miller scrutinizing a broken step on the staircase. Apparently, she’d brought her heel down on the edge of the board and had fractured the wood.
“David’s a roof installer,” Dorcas said, comforting her. “He’ll be able to patch this up in no time.”
“Jah, but he’s been through such a hardship with his wife being hospitalized. The last thing he needs is to kumme home and have to mend something I broke. We’re supposed to be making things easier for him, not more difficult.”
“Listen.” Susannah put a finger to her lips. “I just heard a buggy. I’ll run out and see if one of the menner is dropping his schweschder or dochder off. Maybe it’s someone who can fix the step.”
She shot out the door and tore right past whatever young woman had been dropped off without registering who it was. Waving her arms as she pursued the buggy down the road, she hollered, “Absatz!” But the person at the reins didn’t hear her and the horse increased its speed. Susannah increased hers, too, as well as her volume. “Absatz!” she shouted, chasing the buggy. She quickly realized whoever was in it couldn’t hear her over the noise of the wheels and hooves on the pavement.
It wasn’t until the buggy came to a halt at the intersection with the main thoroughfare that Susannah could make herself heard. Using the last of her lung power, she yelled, “Help!”
A man immediately hopped down from the carriage and raced toward her so swiftly that his hat flew off. It was Peter, of all people. “What’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you all right?” he asked when he reached her, where she’d lost momentum some twenty yards behind his buggy.
She’d been galloping at such a fast clip and for such a long stretch she could hardly breathe. She bent over, pressing her palms against her thighs, and gasped in as much air as she could while holding one finger in the air to indicate she needed a minute.
“Take your time. It’s okay. Take your time,” Peter repeated, patiently waiting for her to catch her breath before she explained.
When Susannah peered over at him, she saw the look of concern in his steel-blue eyes matched the tenderness of his tone. She remembered that expression; most memorably, she’d seen it on his face last summer, when he’d confided he was worried his brother was becoming influenced by his Englisch friends during his rumspringa. The depth of Peter’s concern about the well-being of others—especially his family members—was one of the things she’d found particularly attractive about him.
However, that kind of worry was unwarranted in this instance. Susannah felt sheepish as she told him, “Someone accidentally broke a board on the staircase. No one’s hurt but we were hoping you could fix it before David comes home.”
It seemed to take a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in, and when it did, Peter shook his head and asked, “You ran all this way to ask me that?”
It was kind of a melodramatic impulse, now that she thought about it. Susannah could have just asked her grandfather to repair the broken stair when he returned to pick her up at three o’clock. But she wasn’t thinking as she was sprinting after the buggy. It was as if her legs were rebelling after a week of idleness—as if she was somehow breaking free from Lydia’s restrictive behavior—but when she’d been running, all that had mattered was catching up to the horse. “I—I’m sorry if I alarmed you,” she feebly apologized.
An Unexpected Amish Harvest Page 7