by Sarah Price
“Been tough without a barn these past two months,” Jane said when they finished setting up the tables and chairs. “Daed had to keep the cows and mules at the neighbor’s farm.” She gestured with her hand and Drusilla looked in that direction. The farms weren’t as wide-spread as in Gordonville but it was still a good distance away.
“Two months? Oh help!” Drusilla knew that must have been an awful amount of extra work. “Why, I thought it happened just a few weeks back or so.” Drusilla couldn’t imagine having to trudge over to the neighbor’s farm so early in the morning, especially during the final weeks of winter. At least spring had brought warmer weather and longer days, not to mention the barn raising.
One of the women pushed open the back door and called out for Jane to come inside. Coffee was ready to be brought to the table in case any of the men were eager for a brief respite. Drusilla followed Jane so that she could offer her assistance in carrying out the trays of coffee cups, insulated pitchers, milk and sugar.
An older woman, petite in statue and a kind face that clearly resembled Jane, smiled at the two young women. “Not certain I know you,” she said as she handed one of the trays to Jane.
“This is Drusilla,” Jane introduced her. “From down by Gordonville, Maem.”
“From Gordonville?” Her eyes widened and she let her mouth drop open in surprise. “Such a distance! I can’t thank you enough.”
Drusilla dipped her head demurely. “My maem wanted to come but she’s not in the condition to be of much assistance.”
“And your family name is…?”
“Riehl,” Drusilla replied. “Amos and Esther Riehl are my parents.”
“Oh heavens to Betsy!” The woman laughed and reached out to touch Drusilla’s arm. “Of course! I can see the resemblance now! I haven’t seen your maem in quite a few years.”
Drusilla had no doubt of that. Her mother had her hands full with taking care of the young children and tending to the house. When she had spare time, Esther was more inclined to attend quilting bees or canning parties, gatherings that produced goods that would be donated to help those in need. Esther Riehl was not one to spend her time casually visiting other people. “She keeps herself busy,” Drusilla managed to say.
“Such a good woman. Quite committed to helping Christian Aid, if I recall.”
“I suppose no more so than any others.” The comment was meant to avoid any remark that might be construed as praising her mother for her charitable deeds. But it was true indeed that Esther Riehl was renowned for her attention to giving.
Over the cold winter months, Esther and her daughters made simple tie-knot quilts to donate to both Christian Aid and the Mennonite Central Committee as well as for local drives for the poor. They had donated over twenty quilts before March roared in with more deep snow and cold winds. While Hannah had continuously complained about having to cut the six-inch squares from different fabrics, Elsie seemed to enjoy cutting the strings that would tie the patches to the batting. Drusilla’s job was to piece the quilt tops, her mother claiming that she’d never seen anyone with a finer eye for matching colors and creating simple patterns with the squares. Meanwhile, Esther spent her time sewing the pinned tops before everyone could help pin them to the batting and flannel backing. During the days when Hannah and Elsie were at school, Drusilla and her mother would finish them if time permitted.
The routine always made the cold days go by faster, for which Drusilla was grateful. Winter was by far not her favorite season.
With the tables set up and the older women taking charge of the kitchen, Drusilla and Jane carried the trays outside and set them onto the table. Knowing that their help wouldn’t be needed again for a short while, they remained outside and joined Naomi and Miriam who were already seated on the grass, watching the men work.
It was taking shape, several men having climbed up a make-shift scaffold to help nail down the flooring of what would become the hayloft. Several younger boys ran back and forth, collecting pieces of cut wood and bent nails from the ground. Drusilla suspected that they were playing a game to see which one of them might fill up a bucket faster than the others. She remembered well how her mother played that game with her and Daniel when they were younger, the only difference being that they collected weeds from the garden and the reward was an extra cookie at snack time. Somehow, Drusilla recalled, they both seemed to always collect the same amount, which, in hindsight, was a wise tactic to reward her two oldest children for their hard work.
“Those are my younger bruders,” Jane said, pointing to three of the boys. “They were so excited to be excused from school today.”
Drusilla thought of Hannah again, a feeling of guilt filling her heart. How Hannah would have loved the barn raising, with all the noise and the activity! Of course, Hannah would have wanted to be outside helping the men, not inside with older women, serving the men and then washing the dishes, which Drusilla knew would be the main task assigned to the younger women after the men ate their meal.
With the four walls finally secured, several men walked over toward the table, the first of the men to need a break. Jane scrambled to her feet. “Best go fetch some water,” she said. “They’ll be thirsty for sure and certain.”
Drusilla followed her example. “I’ll help,” she said. “There’s bound to be more men coming than one or two pitchers will serve, ja?”
By the time they returned, their arms laden with plastic cups and pitchers of water and lemonade, another group of men had joined the first. Most of them looked to be in their thirties and forties, although several men with full gray beards sat along at the table. Drusilla followed Jane’s lead by distributing the cups before walking down the table to fill them. Several men shook their heads, preferring coffee instead. For that, Miriam and Naomi hurried to assist.
As she was nearing the end of the table, Drusilla heard a man shout from the work area. It was followed by a large noise and she immediately turned her head in the direction of the barn. Several men were laughing as another one picked himself up from where he had landed, apparently slipping as he tried to climb the scaffold. Normally no one would have laughed, but he was clearly not injured, having fallen just a few feet and landed in a pile of sawdust. When he stood up, his dark hair covered with piece of shaved wood, he, too, laughed and dusted himself off as he walked to retrieve his hat.
“I reckon that’s full now,” she heard someone say.
Startled, she looked back toward the table and realized that she had continued pouring lemonade into a cup when she had been distracted by the commotion. Instead of paying attention to what she was doing, she had accidentally poured the lemonade until it was overflowing and splattered down the shoulder of the man seated before her.
“Oh!” Quickly, she set down the pitcher and glass, lifting her apron to dab at the large wet patch on his shirt. The hem of her new purple dress lifted with it and, before she knew it, not only was her new dress damp, she had also displayed bare legs. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”
When he turned around to look at her, she recognized him as the young man from earlier in the morning. Immediately, Drusilla stopped talking and stared at him. The color flooded to her cheeks and, blushing from embarrassment, she lowered her eyes, wishing for just one minute that the earth would open and swallow her so that she could disappear from what was certainly one of the most humiliating moments of her life.
“Well, I must admit that’s one way to cool down a hard-working fellow,” he quipped lightly.
His companions chuckled and Drusilla could barely keep herself from bolting away from the table so that she could hide for the rest of the day. At least, she thought, she’d most likely never see him again, whoever he was.
“I…I could go inside to see if there’s a dry shirt,” she finally offered when her voice returned to her. That seemed like a sensible enough solution to her. “I’ve met the Lapps. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
This time, his companions l
aughed out loud and Drusilla looked up, surprised by their unseemly behavior. The man, however, merely smiled, his blue eyes sparkling as he studied her face. “I reckon they wouldn’t mind, indeed,” he said.
“Caleb! There you are!” Jane came over and noticed his shirt. She reached out and touched the spot on his shoulder and down part of the sleeve. “Oh dear! What happened here?”
For a moment, Drusilla’s heart fell. Clearly Jane knew him and knew him well. Was it possible that Jane was courting this man? Surely he was much older than her. However, she was quite familiar with him. Perhaps, Drusilla thought, they were related.
“It was me,” Drusilla admitted. “I split lemonade on his shirt. Mayhaps your mother might have an extra one for him? Lemonade gets sticky when it dries.”
Jane started to answer, but the man, Caleb, lifted his hand just enough to stop her. “That’s a right gut idea. I’ll go on inside and ask.”
He pushed back his chair, Drusilla hopping out of his way. When he stood before her, she felt a quickening of her pulse. He was a good six inches taller than her and, as his shadow shielded her from the sun, she realized that, not only was he tall, he appeared extremely muscular, dwarfing her petite frame. She took a step to the side, stumbling over Jane who hadn’t moved from her spot. Caleb reached out and grabbed her arm, saving her from tumbling down to the ground. “Easy there,” he said, his voice soft and his touch on her arm causing her to feel even more light-headed.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered, too aware that people were staring at her and, undoubtedly, laughing at her clumsiness.
He leaned over as if he was steadying her and whispered into her ear, “Don’t be.” And with that, he released her and headed toward the house, a sense of confidence in his step as he navigated through the chairs and tables.
Miriam and Naomi had witnessed her accident. Naomi took her arm and led her away from the men. “Are you all right?”
“I…” She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say. Never in her life had she met someone that made her lose her senses in such a manner. She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to return home and never step foot near any of the farms on Monterey again. “I don’t know what overcame me. Must be the heat.”
Miriam tried to hide her smile.
“I feel so clumsy,” Drusilla added. “How ridiculous I must have appeared!”
“Ferhoodled is more the word,” Miriam teased.
“That’s even more ridiculous!” Drusilla tried to brush off the comment, but she knew that the evidence remained on her cheeks, burning bright red for everyone to see.
Jane seemed surprised and opened her eyes at Miriam’s statement. “Ferhoodled? Over Caleb?”
“You know him?” Naomi asked.
“Oh ja,” Jane said with a big smile on her face. “I reckon I should know him, given that he’s my bruder.”
And with that, Drusilla’s embarrassment was complete.
Chapter Three
With her mother’s list in hand, Drusilla walked through the aisles of the natural foods grocery store. Not many people crowded the aisles. On such a beautiful day, most people were likely to be outside, working in their gardens or tackling spring cleaning. But Drusilla didn't mind being assigned the task of running errands that kept her indoors. Unlike more commercial stores, with so many prepackaged goods and strange music piping through hidden speakers, this store was quiet and calm, the air thick with earthy scents of hand-packaged flour, wheat, and yeast. It was a comforting smell, so similar to her mother’s kitchen, especially on the mornings when she baked fresh bread.
Drusilla pushed the small metal cart in front of her, struggling to keep it moving in a straight line as one of the back wheels wobbled, a strange sound that seemed intrusive in the otherwise serene atmosphere. After spending the morning doing laundry for both her mother and her grandparents, Drusilla was more than happy to having taken the horse and buggy to market. She suspected that her mother needed the time to lie down and rest before the younger kinner returned home from school. Whether it was her age or this particular baby, her mother seemed to suffer more in the final weeks of this pregnancy. And an hour of peace was sure to be appreciated.
Glancing down at the sheet of paper, her mother’s beautifully scripted handwriting listing each needed item, she tried to mentally categorize the items into the appropriate aisles for the most efficient shopping. Most of the goods that her mother asked for were from the section in the back, so Drusilla pushed the cart in that direction. With her Uncle Eli and his family coming for a visit on Sunday afternoon, Drusilla suspected that most of the baking would fall on her shoulders and her Saturday would be spent baking bread and pies.
As she approached an Amish woman, Drusilla smiled and nodded her head as a way of greeting. The two small children that clung to the woman’s skirt kept her preoccupied and, instead of stopping to talk, the woman nodded in return and continued pushing her own cart down the aisle. While Drusilla recognized the woman or her children, she didn’t recall her name since they most likely lived in a neighboring church district. Certainly her mother would have known her. Her mother made it a point to know everyone’s name.
Relieved, Drusilla pushed the cart around the end of the aisle. She didn’t mind talking with people in public, as long as she knew them. She still felt that awkward shyness around unfamiliar people and new surroundings, especially if there were Englischers around. For that reason, Drusilla preferred shopping at this market, her first stop of the day. The store was tucked into the backroads and tourists normally did not shop there. Her next stop, however, was closer to the main road of town and the tourists would certainly be around, gawking at the Amish as they pretended to shop for fresh vegetables and canned goods.
“Drusilla Riehl?”
Drusilla stopped short and looked in the direction of the voice calling her name. To her surprise, she saw Naomi and Miriam’s mother walking toward her, a green plastic basket slung over her arm.
“I thought that was you!” Barbara said, stopping just before her.
“What are you doing shopping here?” As far as Drusilla knew, her aunt never went shopping. Like her mother, Drusilla knew that Barbara had a busy list of things to do every day. She, too, had younger children and, with no grown boys to help during the day, she often filled in as helper to her husband. She usually sent one of her daughters. And since all of the families were gathering at Esther and Amos’s on Sunday, Drusilla couldn’t imagine what was so important that Barbara had travelled so far.
“Just had to pick up a few things,” her aunt responded.
Drusilla frowned. “That’s too bad. Had I had known. I’d have picked them up for you.”
Barbara laughed, the sound so like her daughters. “I actually stopped by your maem’s to ask her the very same thing! See if she needed anything.”
“I reckon with better timing that one of us would have been saved the trip, then.”
“If truth be known,” Barbara said, lowering her voice. “I rather like coming to market. There’s a certain tranquility in the journey that makes the destination more tolerable.”
There was truth to that statement. Like her aunt, Drusilla enjoyed the quiet solitude of a long buggy ride without any companions. It was a time to reflect on so many things: her hopes for her family, her dreams about the future, and her love for God’s grace. Especially God’s grace. Growing up among the Amish, she knew no other life. Still, she saw enough around her that she understood the difference between her lifestyle, both by birth and now, choice, and the outside world.
With their fast cars, loud music, and accumulation of worldly possessions, Englische youth clearly focused on other things than God. And Drusilla knew that there was nothing more important than loving God and following His will: Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the prid
e of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.
Of course, enjoying the peace and quiet of the buggy ride was overshadowed by the knowledge that it would end upon arrival at the market, especially when she had to travel into town. While she had grown used to the stares of the tourists, she was still uncomfortable with how they tried to steal photographs of her, often pretending to just hold up those silly cell phones in their hands and acting as if they were looking at something else. But Drusilla wasn’t fooled. She knew exactly what they were doing and, if she caught them in time, she’d quickly turn her back on them and walk away.
“Now then, I’m awful glad that I ran into you, Dru,” Barbara said, reaching into her handbag and shuffling her hand around as if searching for something. She extracted an envelope and handed it to Drusilla. “Seems she forgot to ask you to pick up a new handle for the hoe. Seems Hannah broke it yesterday, ja? Anyway, your maem asked me to stop at the hardware store unless I ran into you.”
The hardware store, Drusilla thought as she took the envelope. The closest one was near the center of town, just after the fresh vegetable market. Withholding her desire to sigh, for anything close to town on a Friday would be jammed packed with tourists, Drusilla nodded her head. “That’s the second hoe, Hannah broke this season. Not off to a good start.”
Barbara shrugged her shoulders and smiled. When it came to Hannah, most people weren’t quite certain of what to say. Her fiery personality and far too vocal opinions left a lot unsaid, although Drusilla was fairly certain she knew what people thought. It wasn’t that Esther condoned Hannah’s impertinence; she simply responded with as much patience and kindness as she could while still parenting her daughter. But Hannah didn’t seem to know when to stop…unless Amos was brought into the picture. And that was something that everyone tried to avoid, especially Hannah.