“Luke mentioned meeting your young niece Sunday, out on the road,” Sarah said in passing. “He said she was a very sweet baby.”
“Oh, and she is.”
Sarah wiggled her fingers at Angela. “I s’pose it’s hard not to dote on such a perty baby. But you don’t want her to become vain.”
“You’re right ’bout that.”
Sarah studied the drawing Marlena had decided on, and then showed her how to number the pieces on her sketch. “Do ya know what color binding and backing you want?” She asked if Marlena wanted the top and bottom ends to be bound in a different color than the sides. “There are lots of ways to do this, Ellie says.”
“I’m still deciding,” Marlena told her, so glad she’d come.
They discussed scalloped edges and decorative bindings, but it was Sarah who asked if Marlena wanted a quilt more in keeping with a “lower” church like the Old Order, or something that would be acceptable to her grandmother’s church.
Hearing it put that way, Marlena realized again what a quandary she was in, not knowing where her niece would grow up—as an Amish child or an Englischer.
“Angela Rose’s situation is uncertain at this point,” Marlena shared with Sarah. “Honestly, it makes me feel awful sad, thinkin’ of losing touch when her father’s parents come for her.” She still felt too frustrated with Nat to talk about him just now.
“I hope you and your family will be permitted to see Angela from time to time,” Sarah said. “She is your blood kin, of course.”
Marlena nodded and thanked her for being such a supportive friend.
———
At the appointed time, Luke arrived for his sister. Seeing him from the window, Marlena recalled how fervently he’d prayed along the road the other day. She realized just then that she hadn’t even asked Nat to join her in prayer about the challenges facing them, whether about Angela Rose’s future or their own. That’s just what I’ll write in my next letter to him. She hoped this request wouldn’t cause further conflict, but he needed to know how important prayer was to her. Nevertheless, if he loves me, we’ll work something out.
Chapter 34
Small Jay had memorized a few of the melodies Boston played on his mouth organ each evening, and sometimes, when his parents weren’t within earshot, Small Jay liked to hum along. It was the very best time of day, and he often counted the hours till they sat on the back porch and ate ice cream to cool off.
Small Jay was glad Boston had suddenly been included with the family at mealtimes, though he still wasn’t certain how such a thing had come about.
As for the letters, little by little, Boston had been adding what tidbits he remembered as Small Jay read aloud—stopping him to mention new things, like a big black piano in a sun-strewn parlor with an antique music stand nearby.
According to Boston, there were only a few letters left to be read. More and more, Small Jay had been getting the feeling that Boston might wake up one morning and remember where he belonged. There were times when he felt sure Boston’s memory was slowly getting better, at least here and there. Maybe Dr. Isaac’s cures are working.
That weekend, Mamma asked Boston if he’d like to go to market next Saturday with her and Small Jay. “I think you’d enjoy yourself,” she said, a light in her eyes.
“Is it permissible to nap at market?” Boston asked jokingly. “Napping seems to be what I do best.”
Mamma refuted that but said she’d make sure there was a chair for him behind the table. “We’ll only be able to stay till a little before noon, since I’ll have some baking to do,” she added.
Small Jay’s mouth watered at the thought of freshly baked pies and cookies, though he was mostly happy that his English friend could finally experience the marketplace for himself. Maybe he can spend some of those dollar bills in his wallet on more candy or delicious fudge.
Marlena hadn’t waited long to answer Nat’s letter. In fact, she’d already sent hers, hoping to hear something back from him right away. She prayed his heart might soften toward her desires and toward Angela Rose. How could he be tentative toward any baby, let alone this one who was so dear to Marlena herself?
She had been loving in her reply but made it clear how she felt about Angela Rose—and how she believed God was calling her to care for her as long as needed. She was also firm about going to church with Mammi Janice for the duration of the summer. Why must Nat make things so hard—put me in a corner over this—when surely he knows I’m honoring my grandmother?
Meanwhile, Mammi had come down with what she called “der Schnuppe”—the sniffles—and a fever. Marlena felt certain the illness had been brought on by all the stressful events of late.
When Sunday rolled around and Mammi was still too sick to get up for church, Marlena decided to go on her own. She dressed around and got Angela Rose ready, too. “We’ll let Mammi rest awhile,” she whispered.
After breakfast, she slipped the diaper bag over her shoulder and carried her niece out to the roadside. There, Marlena began to walk down the hill toward Bitners’, thinking that perhaps one of the New Order families might see her and offer a ride to their house meeting.
After all, Luke and Sarah did invite me.
In a few minutes, Marlena spotted Abram and Orpha Mast, Sarah’s parents, and waved for them to stop. Unlike the more traditional buggies around the area, their buggy wheels had rubber strips, the only noticeable difference. It turned out that Luke, Sarah, and two of the other children had gone in another carriage, so there was ample room for Marlena and the baby.
Orpha was brimming with smiles as Marlena got situated. Orpha wore a dress that was nearly as red as one of Luella’s fancy dresses, but she had not a stitch of makeup on, and her shoes were black and quite conservative. “Sarah’s ever so pleased to help ya work on the baby’s quilt,” Orpha said, making room on the front bench seat. “It’s really nice of you to make such a unique remembrance for the baby.”
Babbling sweetly, Angela Rose reached her busy little hand toward Orpha’s bright sleeve and held on as the horse pulled them forward.
“Sarah says she’s a happy little one, and I can surely see that.”
Marlena smiled. “Angela’s a real gut baby, too. Growin’ fast now.”
“How soon will ya start stitchin’ up the new quilt?” asked Orpha. “The way Sarah talks, it’s unlike most of ours round here.”
Marlena vouched for its not being authentically Amish in pattern or color. “It’s a crazy quilt like you’ve never seen before.”
Orpha laughed softly, and Abram glanced at her, then at Angela Rose, who still gripped Orpha’s sleeve. “This is your older sister’s baby, jah?”
Marlena sighed and nodded. “Luella recently passed away, so I’m lookin’ after her for a while.”
“Sarah mentioned something,” Abram replied, his pale blue eyes solemn. “Awful sorry for such a small one.”
They’re polite, not asking where the father is. . . .
Orpha added, “She seems at ease with you.”
Marlena recalled again how terribly upset Angela had been her first days there. And it struck her that most folk just went about their daily chores and never gave much thought to the ties that bound a family—how very fragile they could be.
One never knows what change a single day might bring.
Marlena remembered the verse she’d read that morning even before getting out of bed: “Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.”
Each person at the New Order house meeting was so welcoming, though not nearly as many were present as the crowd at Mammi’s meetinghouse. Marlena wondered if their friendliness was in hopes of gathering more converts, as some said. Even so, she believed they were genuinely glad to extend a hand of fellowship to her, and in the midst of her qualms about her and Nat’s plans for marriage, the experience was a paradise of peace.
As with the Old Order church, the women and children sat on one side of the lon
g, open room, the men and older boys facing them on the opposite side. Much of the service was similar to what she had grown up with, except that English was spoken in more than half of it. She also noticed this minister making eye contact with the congregation, whereas in her former church, the preacher stared at a wall or fixed his gaze on a window.
Like Abram Mast, the men here wore their hair shorter than her father or Roman Bitner. And the women’s cape dresses, for the most part, were louder in color—red, turquoise, and Kelly green.
Marlena liked the fact that they held Sunday school for adults and children on the between Sundays, as Orpha had explained on the way there, saying that each person took turns reading the Scriptures at those house gatherings. They also discussed the particular passages, something never done in an Old Order setting.
What made Marlena most curious about this offshoot of the traditional church was that the young people were required to be baptized before they were permitted to date. “That way, the dating partner knows for sure they’re settled in their beliefs,” Sarah had said during one of their times together.
After Preaching and before the common meal, Marlena spotted the same attractive brunette she’d once seen riding with Sarah and Luke. . . the young woman Luke had confided about to her.
Orpha, and later Sarah, offered to hold Angela so Marlena could enoy the simple meal of homemade bread, cold cuts, and strawberry pie. During the meal, Orpha’s four sisters-in-law and a few of her same-age cousins came by to smile at Angela Rose, talking to her, which helped Marlena feel accepted, too.
Naturally, she knew better than to expect Luke to seek her out. She had seen him eating with his older brothers and a number of other young men she didn’t know, and he never once looked her way. She did notice him glance at the tall brunette several times, however. I hope he knows I’ll keep his secret, she thought, glad she’d had the idea to worship there.
“Your grandmother doesn’t mind your bein’ here, does she?” Orpha asked, suddenly looking serious.
“Well, she doesn’t know yet,” Marlena admitted. “But she won’t mind when I tell her.”
“ ’Tis gut. Wouldn’t want to cause ya any trouble.”
Ach, if she only knew! Marlena gave Orpha a warm smile.
Chapter 35
The following Wednesday, Marlena welcomed Sarah Mast for a second time to work on hand sewing the crazy-quilt pieces. They talked casually as they sat around Mammi’s kitchen table—Sarah told of helping her mother and sisters, putting up forty-five quarts of canned green beans. And Marlena said she and her grandmother had done the same, only fewer quarts, while reciting Scripture verses. Nat wouldn’t be pleased if he knew the latter, she thought.
Sarah kept looking at Angela Rose in her playpen. “She’s becoming so active. I wonder if she’ll walk early.”
“Well, my mother says it’s important for a baby to crawl for a gut long time before learnin’ to walk.”
Sarah agreed.
Mammi, who was feeling better, suggested that Angela be permitted to lie on a blanket on the kitchen floor while the girls worked. Marlena gave her a rattle and a teething toy to keep Angela occupied.
“I’ve been wanting to dress her more like Mammi and me,” Marlena confided in Sarah when Sarah commented on the baby’s little dress. “Not necessarily to push too quickly in that direction, though, considering everything.”
“You’ve been mighty busy, I see.”
Marlena said she’d managed to squeeze in an hour or so lately each day to sew. “I hope to make several small dresses in all—pale blue, soft pink, and mint green.”
“Do ya plan to have Angela longer, then?”
Marlena said she really didn’t know. “But she doesn’t have enough dresses, and she’ll outgrow them fast.”
Pleasant conversation occupied their time as the two young women pieced together the colorful quilt. Marlena mentioned having also spent time redding up Mammi’s pantry, organizing things. She’d painted the porch railing outside and accomplished a lot of garden work, as well as kept Mammi’s house clean—and all this just since she’d gone to the New Order Amish church that past Lord’s Day. She thought once more of Luke and realized she hadn’t given much thought to his dilemma, but she had offered up a prayer for divine wisdom and comfort.
It must be difficult, caring for someone who has no interest in him.
On Friday, Mammi asked if there was any more word from Patricia Munroe about Gordon’s parents. But none had come. Were they having second thoughts? Marlena knew from Mamma that they had been reluctant for Gordon to marry Luella in the first place. Was that partly behind their hesitancy now?
As each day passed and Nat’s response to Marlena’s last letter did not come, she became more vexed, even though she tried her best to relinquish her anxiety to God. She found herself trying to second-guess what Nat might be thinking, but she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. At times, she was just about sure that all would be well if she could only talk face-to-face with him about Angela Rose, as well as her growing faith.
How can such things put a wedge between us, unless we allow them?
It was already very warm early Saturday morning as Ellie headed to market with Small Jay and Boston, tickled to treat him to his first such experience.
At her market booth, Boston began to play one tune after another on his harmonica, drawing an inquisitive crowd. Youngsters and their parents watched with bright-eyed amusement, some of them tapping their toes. The music, so skillfully played, created a pleasant shopping atmosphere for the tourists and locals alike. One male customer, who’d come all the way from London, England, to tour the back roads of Amish farm country, suggested Boston get a job playing every Saturday.
Meanwhile, Small Jay assisted Ellie in ways he hadn’t before—greeting customers and bagging up jars of preserves, along with her handmade items. Ellie wished with all of her heart that Roman could witness this transformation for himself.
Small Jay’s finally getting more attention from Roman, she thought, recalling several times recently that her husband had told of his encounters with Small Jay and Boston as the pair worked side-by-side.
It was hard for her to make sense of what she felt whenever Roman shared these observations—such a sense of relief after all these years. And Roman held the reins in his hands and heart.
Driver Vernon Siegrist regularly kept the radio turned off when the van was full of Plain folk. Today, however, he’d turned the music on right away when they were getting in, a treat for Small Jay, to be sure. The soft music provided a nice background for the womenfolk’s chatter.
Slowly, one Amishwoman after another got off the van as Small Jay sat with Boston, heading home for the afternoon. Mamma seemed extra pleased because she’d run clean out of her homemade wares. Small Jay knew she would have liked to stay around and visit with many of the womenfolk there, but as planned, they’d left a bit early, not wanting to tire out Boston. Aunt Orpha had been one of those who stopped by and commented on Boston’s lovely music that morning. Even Luke and Sarah had dropped by to say hullo.
Small Jay tried to mind his p’s and q’s as he gazed out the window, noticing a pond in the distance. He wondered just when his father might suggest they go fishing, but it wasn’t something he would bring up again. He’d said that he wanted to and felt sure his father would follow through. Or so he hoped.
Reliving the market experience today, Small Jay realized how much better things had been with Boston along. The one lack was Gracie Yoder, who hadn’t been present this time, at least that he knew. Gracie’s aunt Nellie often wandered down to talk with Mamma, and if Nellie had been there, Small Jay was sure she would’ve dropped by to see Mamma and to soak up Boston’s music. But there’d been no sign of either Nellie or Gracie.
Glancing now at Boston, he noticed the man’s eyes were half closed, his head forward. His shaved upper lip and straw hat made him look so very Amish. If Boston stayed on indefinitely with them, would
he eventually want to take baptismal instruction and join church? If so, he’d have to go through the two-year or longer Proving time, but Boston sure didn’t seem opposed to dressing like the People or working hard. As hard as he’s able, thought Small Jay. Kinda like me.
While he sometimes daydreamed about Boston living permanently amongst the People, he also had a feeling that Boston might not really want to be Amish at all. He wondered if the man ever had glimmers of memories about his former life. Did he miss Abigail, for instance, the woman responsible for so many letters to her “dearest darling”?
Presently, Dat’s farmhouse came into view, and Small Jay pointed toward the east-facing Dawdi Haus, where Boston had been spending his nights. “Home again, jah?” Small Jay said softly.
Boston nodded and smiled drowsily, then turned around to thank Mamma for inviting him today. “A delightful experience, to say the least. I met some fine folk.”
A few minutes later, Boston pulled out his billfold and offered to pay Vernon for the round trip. Mamma intervened and said she wanted to pay, but Boston insisted until Mamma backed down and let Boston give some money to Vernon, who thanked him heartily.
Boston leaned back then, waiting for Mamma to slip out of the van from the seat behind them. Small Jay realized how quiet it had become, and he sat very still, listening to the radio music, knowing it would be a long time before he heard such fine radio melodies again.
Boston climbed out next with Vernon near. Vernon waved at Dat and hurried across the yard to visit, but Small Jay felt like staying put. That’s when he began to recognize the melody of the song on the radio and found himself humming along.
“Ach, I know that tune,” Small Jay said to himself. But how? he wondered. Then it struck him: That’s Boston’s melody! He plays it every night!
Small Jay got up and leaned his head out the open van door. “Boston, come back right quick! Somethin’s on the radio you oughta hear.”
The Love Letters Page 23