by Amy Lillard
“Stop. You don’t have the right to want to.” Tears pricked at her eyes. She had been so emotional lately, nearly crying at the drop of a hat. That wasn’t like her at all. She supposed it had something to do with the holiday season. This would be her first Christmas without her mamm there beside her. Surely that was what was making her so emotional. And her tender feelings had nothing to do with Zeb’s return and the heartbreak of yet another Christmas on the fringes.
But she hadn’t been on the fringes this afternoon. At Whispering Pines she was just a sweet face that had come to visit. She was a novelty and very much appreciated.
“Ivy, is that you?”
She jerked to attention, ceasing her poking and prodding at the already roaring fire. It needed her attention like a mule needed a dress, but she had to do something other than stare at Zeb like a lovesick puppy.
“Jah, Dawdi.”
He came out of the kitchen, stopping short when he saw Zeb. “Hello, there, Zeb Brenneman. What brings you out here today?”
“I came to see if Ivy wanted to come to an event tonight.”
“Oh?” He raised one bushy gray eyebrow, his beard twitching as he leaned a bit closer.
“The youth group is having a get-together at the bishop’s house. Well, Emily and Elam’s. The wives want to make popcorn balls to take to the hospital for the children.”
“And that’s what you’re doing tonight?”
He nodded.
Dawdi pinned her with his sharp blue stare. “That sounds like fun. Tasty, fun, and helpful too.”
Ivy straightened her spine completely and stiffened her resolve. It did sound like fun, and it was a nice thing to do. But she couldn’t go. She wasn’t wanted. She wasn’t invited. She didn’t fit in any longer. There was no sense trying to pretend that she did. Nor did she want to go to perfect Emily-the-bishop’s-daughter’s house and see her and Elam happily married like the rest of the couples in their youth group. Some match-ups were a bit unexpected and others not so much. She and Zeb could have been one of those, a surprise. Who would have thought? “I was just telling Zeb that we already have plans for this evening.”
Her grandfather’s brows knit together to form one thick line of confusion. “We do?”
Heaven help her. Of all the times for him to forget. “Jah. Remember? With Tassie and Karl?”
“Tassie Weber?” Dawdi asked.
“Do you know anyone else named Tassie?”
“Well, no,” he admitted. “But why are they coming over here?”
The one question she hadn’t asked him when he told her of his plans. “For pie. You did remember to make the pie, jah?”
Dawdi scratched his head. “Let me check.” He spun on one heel and headed back into the kitchen.
She could feel Zeb’s gaze on her as she stood there. She refused to look at him. Refused to meet those glass-green eyes of his and have him start to ask questions. She had already told him too much.
“Ivy.”
She ignored him. Just a few more seconds and . . .
Dawdi pushed back into the living room, a smile on his face. “Jah. I baked a pie.”
“Are you sure I can’t talk you into going to the Riehls’ tonight?” Zeb asked.
“I’m sure,” she whispered.
He gave an almost melancholy nod, then started for the door. He put his hand on the knob, and a knock sounded.
“That must be them,” he said. Then he opened the door and stepped out of sight.
“Hello, Tassie. Karl,” he said.
“Zeb Brenneman,” Tassie chittered. “What are you doing here?”
“Same as you. Just visiting.”
“Good to see you.” Karl’s voice drifted in to Ivy. She had known Karl her entire life, but he, like the others, had started to avoid her. Her dawdi’s attempts at matchmaking would be all for naught, but at least it gave her even more reason not to go with Zeb.
“I was just on my way out.”
“Be safe,” Tassie chirped.
“I will.” Then his footsteps sounded on the porch, and Ivy knew he was gone.
She made her way to the door, telling herself she was going to greet their guests and not to watch Zeb depart, but she knew better.
“Tassie, Karl,” she said, trying to appear as gracious as possible. So many things were running through her head, she just wanted to find someplace quiet where she could be alone and try to sort through it all. But there was no time now. Maybe later.
Tassie Weber clasped her hands and squeezed her fingers. “So glad to see you, my dear.”
“You as well.” It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen her yesterday at the bakery. Though Ivy wondered how come Tassie never mentioned it at the time. Had it all been another one of her grandfather’s matchmaking attempts?
Like that was going to work. Aside from the fact that Karl had gone the same way as the rest of Wells Landing in shunning her, however unofficially, he was not someone she could ever imagine herself marrying. Karl was big. He had to be close to three hundred pounds, though it was solid man. He stood at least six foot six and made Ivy feel like she was eight years old again. Karl was nice enough, but had a tendency to laugh after everyone else had stopped and to scratch his head like he couldn’t figure out the answer. Yet a sweeter person she never knew.
Just as she knew in her heart that he didn’t have malice in his heart toward her. He was simply following the actions of those around him.
“Let’s go to the kitchen. I know Dawdi’s been working on a pie all morning.”
Tassie smiled and followed Ivy’s direction. “I think it’s amazing that your grandfather bakes. Not many men do, you know. Englisch ones maybe, but not Amish.”
Ivy nodded politely and followed them into the kitchen.
The room was filled with the sweet smell of brown sugar and the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Tassie chatted away about nothing in particular as they settled themselves around the table. Ivy did her best to nod and comment at the appropriate times, but found her mind wandering back to her morning at the retirement home. More specifically, to Ethan Dallas. She wasn’t sure what it was about the man, but he intrigued her. Something in his eyes, or maybe it was his smile, drew her in and made her want to know more. About what, she wasn’t sure, she just sensed that he had the answers.
Still, the afternoon went by quickly and before she knew it she was walking next to Karl and Tassie out to their buggy.
“Danki,” Tassie chirped as they made their way. “It’s good to get together, jah?”
Karl broke away to fetch their horse and hitch her to the buggy.
“Jah.”
Tassie looped her arm through Ivy’s and pulled her close. “I would like to come back sometime,” she said.
“Of course.” Ivy smiled. Why in the world would she want to come back? Unless she was plotting with her matchmaking dawdi.
“Maybe this week sometime.” Tassie’s answering smile appeared innocent, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. “How about Thursday?”
Ivy opened her mouth to tell Tassie that she had to work on Thursday, but she closed it instead. She did have to work. But if she stayed out a bit she could head over to the retirement home and see Ethan Dallas for a bit before heading home. And if Tassie was visiting, then Ivy wouldn’t have to worry about her dawdi being alone too long. The idea warmed her from the inside. “I’ll be at work on Thursday.” Please don’t change your mind.
Tassie patted her hand. “I’ll bring Karl, if that’s what you’re asking about. It might not look good if I came to visit your grandfather all alone. Plus Karl can help him get a few things done around here.”
Ivy murmured something she hoped would pass as an agreement and mulled over what Tassie had just said. She was coming, bringing Karl, and it didn’t matter that Ivy herself wasn’t going to be there.
“Oh, good,” Tassie said, her dimples deepening in her wrinkled cheeks.
By now Karl had finished hitching
up their mare.
“What’s good?” Dawdi asked.
“I’m coming back on Thursday to see you. Would you like that?”
Dawdi propped his hands on his hips and eyed her. “Are you hinting that you want some more pie?”
“Of course. But if I had only come for the pie, I’d be here bright and early tomorrow morning.”
* * *
Ivy had no idea what Tassie’s words really meant, and she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they said.
The week had gone surprisingly well. The sun had been shining, adding another layer to the crisp temperatures. Her grandfather had settled in and his memory seemed as good as ever. So good in fact that she could almost believe that those worrisome days had never happened.
Her job at the bakery was going great, with the exception of the hostile Jodie Miller. But Ivy wasn’t letting someone like Jodie get her down. She had been working hard and doing everything in her power to make herself a better person. And she was counting the days till she could see Ethan Dallas again.
Thursday morning started early with cinnamon rolls, biscuits, and a batch of cookies that was to be delivered to the mayor’s office. According to Caroline, the mayor always forgot his wife’s birthday, then called up the bakery for an emergency batch of peanut butter cookies with mini chocolate chips, her favorite.
By the time Ivy clocked out and headed for Whispering Pines, she was flush with excitement. It was a strange sort of feeling, like a new beginning. Which was a ridiculous thought. She wasn’t beginning anything again. She was merely visiting people who needed to see a friendly face. That was all there was to it.
Still, she felt as if a burden had lifted off her when she walked through the doors. She inhaled deeply that mixed scent of pine cleaner, liniment, and Christmas. That was how she had come to describe the scent burning in the little electric pots. Christmas. It could have had something to do with the shiny decorations that layered the home or the soft music that played throughout. She only knew they were Christmas songs because they played over the loudspeakers at the grocery store and she had heard people complain if they started playing too early. But somehow, here in the retirement home, it seemed to all work. She felt warm, welcomed, and wanted.
She would never admit it to anyone, much less someone from the church, but she liked the Christmas decorations. Even the Santa Clauses and glittery tinsel. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like they truly represented the spirit of the season. They didn’t have anything to do with Jesus, Mary, or the three Wise Men. But they made her remember what the season was about. Strange how that worked. She had been so down about the holidays and all the activities. But passing the paintings as she walked into the foyer brought back memories of that first trip to the home. She smiled as she passed Margery’s purple painting. She’d have to find out if Lorie was teaching another class soon. Ivy would love to talk to her and see how things were going for her.
Ivy envied Lorie’s escape. Not that she wanted to leave, but she wanted that fresh start she had felt when she came into the retirement home.
“Ivy, right?” Angie was seated behind the desk once again.
“That’s right.”
“I didn’t think you’d be back. Are you still thinking about your grandfather?”
Ivy shook her head. “I like visiting the people here.” It was a simple answer, but true all the same.
Angie smiled and pushed the clipboard across the desk toward her. “Welcome back.”
Ivy signed in and made her way down the hall. She wanted to check in the game room and see if Ethan Dallas was there. If he wasn’t, she’d double back to the cafeteria. Pudding was always a good idea.
But after checking those two rooms and the craft room, she headed back to the front desk and Angie.
“Yes?”
“I’ve been looking for Ethan Dallas,” Ivy admitted. “Do you know where he might be?”
Angie thoughtfully tapped the end of her pen against the desk blotter. “Thursday afternoon?” she queried no one. “I’d say he’s probably in his room taking a nap.”
Ivy did her best to hide her disappointment. “Oh. I see.”
Angie waited as if she expected Ivy to say something. “Aren’t you going to ask me what his room number is?”
“You can tell me that?”
“I think he would love to have a visitor. He doesn’t get many. Any,” she corrected.
“Okay.” Ivy nodded. “I would like that too.”
Angie checked her list, then told Ivy the number. “It’s down the second hallway on the left.”
“Danki,” Ivy said. “Thank you.”
She made her way cautiously down the hallway until she came to his room. She knocked and a few moments later, the door opened.
Those twinkling blue eyes widened as he saw who was at his door. “Ivy. Come in. Come in.”
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Of course.” He stood back to allow her entrance.
“I just wanted to check on you. See how you are doing today.”
He motioned for her to take a seat on the small sofa just inside the room. He left the door open and sat down across from her in the comfortable-looking armchair. “I’m well,” he said simply.
Ivy looked around at the plain, tan-painted walls, her gaze landing on the generic furniture and finally the three framed snapshots on top of the television. “Is that your family?” she asked with a quick nod toward the photographs.
“My son, my grandson, and my wife.”
“Your wife? I didn’t know you were married.” If he was married, what was he doing here?
His twinkling eyes dimmed just a bit. “Widowed.”
“I’m sorry.”
He smiled away her apology. “No need to be. We had a wonderful life together, raised a great family, and now she’s gone on to her reward.”
Not knowing how else to respond, Ivy nodded. She wanted to ask how he could be so confident in his belief that she had been rewarded in the next life, but the words sounded harsh in her head, and she couldn’t imagine them sounding any better once spoken. “You loved her.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“Very much so.” He shifted in his seat, and Ivy remembered that he was recovering from surgery.
“Do you need to walk or anything?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Just trying to figure out what a sweet girl like you is doing in a place like this.”
His words held a funny ring and she smiled, hoping her response was appropriate. “Angie, the lady in the front, said a lot of residents didn’t have many visitors, so I decided that I might sit with a few people and . . .” She trailed off. Brighten their day sounded arrogant. Who was she to brighten someone’s day? But she wanted to help, and this was all she knew to do.
“You came to sit with old folks?”
She nodded.
Ethan softly chuckled. “Surely a young girl such as yourself has all kinds of things to do with beaus and friends alike.”
Ivy frowned. Beaus? “I—uh . . .” She couldn’t respond. The truth was too painful, and a lie wouldn’t do. She had been telling fibs of one kind or another for so long that they left a bitter taste on her lips. A taste she had grown weary of. “I don’t have any beaus.” Not even Karl Weber. And especially not Zeb Brenneman. “I don’t have any friends either.”
Ethan shifted once again, and Ivy bit back the urge to ask him if everything was all right. “No beaus . . .” he mused. “I might believe that. But no friends?” He tsked.
“It’s a long story,” she replied. At least that was the truth.
Ethan swept one arm across, indicating his sparse surroundings. “Girl, I have nothing but time.”
Ivy met his gaze. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to unburden herself. But that wasn’t why she came here. She came here to feel like she had done some good in another person’s life. How could she do that if she started blabbering all her secrets? “It’s not very interesting.” T
hat much wasn’t a lie. Her life wasn’t interesting, and a man of the world like Ethan Dallas would most likely find her tale utterly boring.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
How she wanted to! She shook her head, her prayer kapp strings barely moving with such a small motion, but they tickled her neck, and she shivered. She let out a small cough.
“Where are my manners?” Ethan stood. “Would you like a drink? I think I have apple juice or water. Or if you want we can head down to the cafeteria and pick up a pudding or two.”
Ivy smiled at his flirtatious manner. “Water would be fine.”
“Water it is.” He ducked into a doorway, and for the first time, Ivy registered that he had a small kitchen area sectioned off by a half wall that had a counter on the living room side of it. A bar, she thought they called it, though there were no drinks and it wasn’t round. At any rate, Ethan pulled a pitcher from the fridge and poured them both a glass of water.
“Here we are.” He handed her one of the glasses, then returned to his seat. “So you want to come visit and help make our days brighter.”
“Something like that.”
“What about your days?”
“My days?” She shifted this time. “My days are fine.”
“Of course.” He said the words, but she could tell that he didn’t believe her. Why should he? Her days weren’t fine, but she couldn’t complain. She had it better than some. Most. “Tell me,” he started again. “What’s it like being Amish?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” It wasn’t like she knew anything else, just the time she had spent with the Englisch in her payback rumspringa. A lot of good that had done her.
What was it like being Amish? She had never really thought about it before.
“You don’t get asked that all the time?”
She shook her head. “Most people want to know if we really don’t have electricity and how we can shun those we love.”
“I know about the electricity. Tell me about shunning.”
“It’s hard to explain to someone who has never been a part of it. But it’s not a punishment. It’s to bring church members back into the fold.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”