“Why isn’t it?”
Because I’m right! Susannah wanted to retort. But then she realized her grandfather might have wanted to say the same thing about Peter. She rinsed a plate under the faucet before coming up with a better answer. “Because I’d explain to him why it’s not healthy to eat a lot of fat or too much sugar. He isn’t explaining anything to me.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Lydia sighed. “How about this... I’ll try to find out what his reason is—or to convince him to tell you what it is. In the meantime, it would be nice if you’d refrain from batting your lashes at Peter in front of Marshall during lunch.”
Susannah was going to protest that she didn’t bat her lashes. But she knew what her stepgrandmother meant; how she felt about Peter came across in the way she looked at him, as well as in the way he looked at her. So instead, she said, “Denki, Lydia. I really appreciate your help.”
Not that Peter’s going to ask to court me, anyway. But maybe if I find out why Groossdaadi doesn’t want him to be my suitor, it will give me insight into why Peter broke up with me in the first place.
Chapter Eleven
After lunch, when Marshall approached Peter and Benuel as they were loading barrels of potatoes into the buggy wagon, Peter half expected the farmer to tell him to go home—that he didn’t want him to help with the harvest anymore and that he wasn’t welcome on the farm. Worse, maybe Marshall would even say that he’d told Susannah about the arrangement they’d made and that she never wanted to see Peter again, either.
He recognized that his behavior toward her during lunch today had been inappropriate. He may not have behaved as brazenly as Benuel sometimes did, but in some ways, Peter had acted as if he was Susannah’s suitor. He’d complimented her, laughed at everything she’d said and come to her defense when Benuel made an inappropriate remark. None of Peter’s actions was necessarily wrong, but his attitude while he was doing them had been one of defiance. It was as if he was saying to Marshall, “You can’t tell me what to do.” He’d even refused to immediately leave the house when Marshall ordered everyone to get back to work. But instead of making him feel more manly or powerful, Peter’s actions had made him feel juvenile and rebellious. And he knew that in this instance he deserved whatever rebuke Marshall had in store for him.
Benuel must have been even more nervous than he was because Peter noticed his hands were shaking as Marshall approached. When the farmer cleared his throat, both of the young men immediately turned from their barrels to give him their full attention.
“My wife has invited you to share our lunch because she wants you to have gut hot meals in your stomachs when you’re harvesting. But if your words or actions demonstrate disrespect for anyone—including each other—you won’t be wilkom at the table again. Understand?”
“Jah. I’m sorry, Marshall,” Peter apologized. But Marshall wasn’t looking at him; he was staring at Benuel.
“Jah. Sorry.” After Marshall walked away, Benuel blew all the air out of his cheeks, sounding every bit as relieved as Peter felt. Then they both resumed their work, eager to put the incident behind them.
When lunchtime rolled around on Tuesday, Peter made a point of not speaking to Susannah, who didn’t say much to him, either. Which didn’t mean he wasn’t acutely aware of her presence; especially when she shifted in her chair and their knees bumped against each other’s beneath the table.
But he didn’t act on his impulse to tell her he’d never tasted roasted garlic potatoes before, but they were so good he hoped she planned to share the recipe with his sister so she could make them, too. And he didn’t sneak a chance to confide that his mother had made an appointment with a nutritionist the following week, thanks to Susannah’s encouragement. Nor did he say half a dozen other things he would have liked to tell her, such as that the dark green dress she was wearing made her eyes look more golden-brown than ever.
By Wednesday, the quietness at the table felt a little more normal again; instead of being a strained or awkward situation, they had the kind of silent meal that happened because everyone was enjoying their food too much to speak. Although, in Peter’s case, he was so tired from working late at the workshop the evening before, he could hardly hold up his head, much less hold a conversation. It was probably the only time he would have preferred to spend his lunch break alone outside, or in the barn, where he could have slept instead of eaten. However, once he finished his second helping of ham and scalloped potatoes—something Susannah said she’d made especially for Marshall, since it was one of his favorite dishes—he felt invigorated again.
Two hours later, the buggy wagon was full of barrels and Peter headed out to the potato house. When he returned, he was surprised to see Susannah crossing the lane in the direction of the fields. She and Lydia had been taking walks around the property in the afternoons lately, but today she was alone. When she saw him approaching, she changed her direction and hurried toward him. Noticing the distraught expression on her face, Peter brought the horse to a halt and jumped down from the buggy wagon.
“Susannah, what’s wrong?”
“It’s my groossdaadi. He threw his back out and he’s in agony,” she said breathlessly.
“That’s baremlich.” Peter shielded his eyes to scan the fields. “Where is he? Does he need help getting to the haus?”
“Neh. He’s already there. The buwe helped him—it took almost half an hour because he was in such pain. We’ve given him muscle relaxants and ice packs and helped make him as comfortable as we could with pillows. I was just going out to take Jacob’s place picking so he can do the digging.” Susannah looked tearful and Peter had to fight the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. “It’s the only thing I could think of doing to help. I gave Lydia a cowbell so she could ring it if she needed me to kumme in... I don’t know. Do you think I’m making the right decision? Maybe I should stay at the haus with them.”
Peter considered her question thoughtfully before answering. “Your groossdaadi is probably going to be unable to work the next week, so unless you help us pick, we won’t finish harvesting before the first frost. I think that’s what Marshall would prefer that you do. But maybe today you could take a break every hour or so to run back to the haus to check on your groosseldre? That might help you feel a little less anxious, right?”
“Jah. So would prayer. Will you pray for Groossdaadi? I’m too wound up to pray for him myself.”
“Sure.” So they bowed their heads and Peter asked the Lord to ease Marshall’s discomfort and Susannah’s anxiety, to give Lydia patience and to give all of them strength and endurance. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Susannah’s forehead was no longer wrinkled with lines, and although she wasn’t smiling, she didn’t look as if she was about to cry anymore.
As she’d done when she’d helped pick before, Susannah quickly worked her way up the rows. For some reason—perhaps he was still embarrassed about the remark he’d made to her on Monday—this time Benuel didn’t seem interested in conversing with her, so he kept up a good pace, too. And even though Susannah ran back to the house every hour, her help enabled the crew to pick and transport roughly the same quantity of potatoes they would have if Marshall hadn’t gotten injured.
“How much longer do you think it will take us to finish harvesting?” Jacob asked as they headed toward the barn to put away the equipment for the night.
“At this rate, we should be done by next Mittwoch,” Peter replied. “At least, we’d better be—there’s a frost forecasted for Thursday.”
“My muscles are so sore. I can’t wait to finish,” Jacob said.
Peter’s muscles were sore, too, but that didn’t mean he wanted the harvest to end...because now he’d get to see Susannah all day, instead of only at lunchtime or in passing around the yard. And now Peter knew that when he spoke and joked and even flirted with her out in the fields, he wasn’t doing it
with a spirit of defiance toward her grandfather; he was doing it with a sense of deep affection for Susannah.
* * *
Susannah lay in bed for a good half an hour after waking on Sunday morning. She was really looking forward to observing the Sabbath at home. Her aching body needed the rest and she was eager to spend time reading the Bible and chatting with her grandparents. She felt as if she’d barely seen them the last four days, since she’d been so tired in the evenings that she usually collapsed into bed right after finishing the supper dishes.
Yet, as dirty and demanding as picking potatoes was, Susannah valued the opportunity to be outside almost the entire day, to exercise muscles she didn’t ordinarily use and to contribute to the urgent goal of harvesting the rest of the crop before the first hard frost.
And, of course, she relished the chance to work alongside Peter. Whenever he wasn’t transporting potatoes to the potato house or she wasn’t running inside to make a meal or check on Lydia and Marshall, Susannah and Peter would harvest neighboring rows, matching each other’s pace. On occasion, Jacob or Conrad would pick close by, too, when they weren’t operating the digger. The boys were hard workers, but once in a while they’d pull a prank, like tossing a rotten, smelly potato at each other. But more often than not, Jacob and Conrad picked nearer to Benuel, who moved down the adjacent rows from the opposite end of the field, out of earshot of Peter and Susannah. She figured Benuel was avoiding being around her because he still felt slighted that she’d refused him as a suitor.
She was happy to give him his space, as his distancing allowed her the privacy to converse freely with Peter, which they often did. He’d tell her about how he and Hannes had completed their first wedding picnic tables, or he’d repeat something Eva had said happened at school. Peter also confided that his mother had made an appointment with a nutritionist the following week and he thanked Susannah for being so encouraging to her. Susannah, in turn, told Peter about what Charity had written in her most recent letter, or she’d give him an update on how Marshall had fared the previous evening. Regardless of whether they were chatting or silent, Susannah treasured the experience of working side by side with Peter; it was how she’d once pictured them tending their own garden, or fields, as a married couple.
And sometimes, she still pictured them that way. Or, at least, she’d let her imagination roam to the possibility that Peter might ask if he could be her long-distance suitor again. She had made up her mind that if he asked, she wouldn’t answer him until he’d told her the reason he had previously decided they weren’t a good match.
I wonder if Lydia has been able to find out what Groossdaadi’s qualm is about Peter yet, Susannah thought. But given how much pain Marshall was experiencing, Susannah doubted that Lydia would have added to his discomfort by bringing up an unpleasant subject. Oh, well. It’s not as if Peter has asked to be my suitor yet, so I don’t need to consider Marshall’s opinion right this minute.
What she did need to do right this minute was get up and start breakfast, as the boys would be coming in from the barn shortly. But her mind was more limber than her body and it took her twice as long to get dressed, brush her hair and make her bed as it usually did. When she went into the kitchen, Lydia was struggling to lift a heavy frying pan from the bottom cupboard.
“Ach, Lydia, you shouldn’t be doing that. I’ve got it. You should go enjoy a cup of kaffi with Groossdaadi.”
“We’ve already had one.”
Susannah didn’t realize she’d stayed in bed that late. “Where is he?”
“I sent him to the barn with the buwe.” Lydia wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and then confided, “I love Marshall dearly and I’m sorry he’s in pain. But let me just say I have a much better understanding of how you must have felt when you were stuck inside looking after me all day.”
Susannah giggled. “It’s gut that you’ve been taking him on short walks around the yard, though.”
“Jah. That’s what the chiropractor told us to do the last time he injured his back.”
Peeking into the fridge, Susannah remarked, “It looks as if we’re awfully low on groceries. I’m going to have to take a break from picking to go to the market.”
“I suppose I could try to do the shopping myself,” Lydia suggested.
“Neh. It would be too difficult for you to get in and out of the buggy or to load the groceries into the carriage. I’ll go tomorrow. But for this morning all we have to eat is eggs and toast. And bacon. Lots of bacon.”
“That will make Marshall hallich.”
“It will make me hallich, too. My appetite has doubled since I’ve been helping with the harvest.” And my waistline has been increasing, too, Susannah thought. Lydia had been helping with food preparation as much as she was able to, but it had been challenging for Susannah to make healthy, fortifying meals, while also working in the fields. They’d been eating more potatoes and bread than she usually served, simply because they were convenient options in abundant supply. But all the starch had left Susannah feeling bloated and she looked forward to replenishing the pantry and fridge with other types of food.
Maybe today I can plan a healthier menu for the next three days until we’re finished harvesting, she thought. While she’d hoped to make a special dessert on Wednesday to celebrate their accomplishment, she realized now that she had to give up on the idea. She hardly had time to put together a simple meal as it was.
After they’d eaten breakfast and worshipped together, Susannah served a customary light lunch—cheese and homemade bologna sandwiches. Because it was drizzling out and she was too tired to take a walk, she suggested that they all do a jigsaw puzzle together. But the boys were undeterred by the weather and went off on a hike, and Lydia wanted to sit at the kitchen table and write a letter to her sister. “I guess it’s just you and me, Groossdaadi,” Susannah said. She brought him an ice pack and rearranged his pillows, then set up the folding table right above his lap so he wouldn’t have to stretch or shift in his chair.
After sitting down opposite him, she began rummaging through the box for the edge pieces. After their disagreement on Monday until the time he’d injured his back on Wednesday, Susannah had noticed she and her grandfather were politer than usual to each other. It felt unnatural, as if they were acquaintances instead of relatives. Then, following his injury, he’d been in too much pain to say much of anything to anyone. He didn’t even join the crew for lunch, presumably because he didn’t want to have to make or listen to small talk. Instead, Susannah would bring a tray to his room for him. But now that they were alone, she hoped to rebuild their usual rapport.
“This is like old times, when you lived in Dover and you and mamm and I used to do puzzles on the Saabbat together, remember?” she asked. When Marshall didn’t answer, Susannah wasn’t sure if he hadn’t heard or if he was ignoring her question. Glancing up, she was surprised to see his eyes fixed on her.
“Jah, I remember,” he replied and he sounded so nostalgic that Susannah thought she might cry. But then he added, “Your mamm used to get frustrated with us for looking at the box cover.”
“That’s because she thought it was cheating,” Susannah recalled with a laugh.
She and Marshall worked on the puzzle in comfortable silence for another hour, until he said he needed to lie down flat for a while. Lydia also retreated to their room to nap, so Susannah perused the recipes Charity had sent. Even though these are simple enough, I still don’t know how I’ll have the time to make them and help the menner pick potatoes, she fretted, just as she heard a buggy coming up the lane.
Hoping it was Dorcas, Susannah darted outside to greet her. However, as she stepped onto the porch, she recognized it was Peter’s buggy that had arrived. He had never come to the farm on a Sunday before now. Was it possible he was here to discuss a courtship with her? The prospect made her feel wobbly, so she held on to the railing for support.
>
But instead of veering toward the hitching post, Peter brought the horse to a halt near the side of the house, which meant he didn’t plan on staying long. Disappointment washed over Susannah as she waited for him to come around to the porch. To her surprise, it was Eva who walked toward her carrying two large, foil-covered pans. Susannah rushed down the stairs to help her.
The young girl explained that Peter had mentioned Susannah was doing all the cooking and cleaning, as well as picking potatoes. So on Saturday, Eva had made two casseroles for Susannah to serve to the crew and her family.
“I used low-sodium broth instead of canned supp because that had too much sodium,” she informed her. “Hannes tried it and said it was gut, but he’ll eat anything so I hope everyone else likes it.”
Susannah couldn’t have been more grateful. “Why don’t you and Peter kumme in for tea?”
“Peter didn’t bring me. Mamm did.”
“That’s even better—I’d love to chat with her. So would Lydia. I’ll go wake her.”
“Neh!” Eva exclaimed. Then she lowered her voice. “I’m sorry but Mamm’s... She’s having a really bad day. That’s why she didn’t get out of the buggy. She didn’t even want you to see her.”
“I understand.” Until now, Susannah hadn’t really realized just how ashamed Dorothy was of her health condition. Or was it that she was fearful of being judged? “Please greet her for me and say denki for bringing you here to deliver these meals.”
Later that evening, as she was lying in bed, it occurred to Susannah that maybe Dorothy’s illness was the reason Peter had broken up with her. Maybe his mother didn’t want anyone to find out she was depressed, as Susannah inevitably would have done if she’d ended up marrying Peter. He’s always been so loyal and devoted to his family—so that would explain why he couldn’t give me a reason for breaking up with me.
Certain she was right, Susannah whispered a prayer for the Lord to strengthen Dorothy. Then, out of the blue, she added, And if it’s Your will, please allow her to be my mother-in-law one day soon. Because now that Susannah had finally figured out why Peter had broken up with her, there was nothing stopping the two of them from resuming their courtship.
An Unexpected Amish Harvest Page 16