The Parting

by Beverly Lewis

  She folded both notes and slipped them into her dress pocket. There would be plenty of time for addressing an envelope later in her solitary bedroom. She’d always thought Suzy’s and her room was large enough for only one person, whereas Rhoda and Nan shared a bigger room. Sometimes she could hear them whispering and giggling into the night.

  An uncontrollable shiver caught her off guard as reality sank in: Caleb had finally asked her out. Even as wonderful-good as that was, the feeling was tinged with the ever-present underlying sorrow; in happier days she might have shared her news with Suzy.

  She missed sharing a room with her younger sister, something they’d done since their earliest days. The many nights they’d talked quietly late into the wee hours seemed precious to her now. At times she felt as if Suzy might simply come walking through the bedroom door. Today surely she would take one look at Nellie and say, “Ach, you look ever so cheerful—who’s the lucky fella?”

  Suzy had seemed quite eager to become a wife and a mother, to make a home for her family just as all Amishwomen did . . . just as Nellie herself would someday. Truth be told, until lately, Nellie had been rather contented living in her father’s house. A comfortable family abode—large enough to bed down the whole family, including the married brothers and their wives and children. Now that there were only three young women left, the place seemed rather empty.

  Sometimes while Nellie Mae baked in the earlymorning hours, she considered the house and the comfort in its walls to be a safeguard of sorts. She had always loved their home. A home with character, Rosanna had said of it years before, after spending more than a week when her parents visited friends in Sugarcreek, Ohio. She and Rosanna had been exceptionally close even then, sharing not only a love of baking, but of quilting. Yet it was not merely the connection to domestic things that tied them together in close fellowship; they simply liked being together. With Suzy gone, Nellie longed for time with Rosanna all the more.

  She rose and circled the display counter. Everything had changed, and nearly in the blink of an eye. Their loss of Suzy was enormous.

  Perhaps it’s missing her so that makes me less content, she thought, knowing she longed for more. But not for material goods. Rather, she yearned for things out of her grasp. Sometimes she went walking deep in the grazing grass or out on the narrow road, heading as far to the east as she could before coming to the busy intersection, then turning again toward home. At times she even caught herself muttering aloud, as if perhaps, in some peculiar way, she was expressing her thoughts to Jehovah God.

  She did not quite know what to do about her ongoing yearnings. Often as a girl she had dreamed of the hereafter, wondering what it must be like in God’s heaven . . . if the Lord God would see fit to say to her, “Well done, faithful servant,” on the Judgment Day. To think Suzy must surely know the answers to these hardest questions of all.

  With the shop closed for the day, Nellie made her way to her bedroom, aware of the coolness seeping in through the walls of Dat’s big house. The second room down from her parents’, hers was a cozy place with plenty of space for a loveseat in one corner, for whenever she might entertain a beau, as was their particular courting tradition, come engagement. Might Caleb ever be of a mind to visit her secretly? But she was getting way ahead of herself, she knew.

  Already she was in over her head with hope. Who knew, once they spent time together, if she’d even like him? Or if he’d like her?

  Standing now at the dresser she and Suzy had long shared, Nellie Mae put Caleb’s and her notes safely inside. He had gone out of his way to hand her the invitation. It could be the beginning of something special, she thought. Or will I be just another step in his path to finding a wife?

  She lifted the pretty blue plate that graced the dresser. Between the size of a saucer and a salad plate, it had been a gift from eight-year-old Suzy for Nellie’s ninth birthday. Suzy had spotted the sweet little thing at an antique shop, and Mamma had purchased it. Over the years, Suzy had used it to leave notes for Nellie, and vice versa. Sometimes a joke or a funny saying . . . something for cheering up or saying merely “good-bye, till later.” Even as a youngster, Suzy had always been thinking of ways to express her love for Nellie and others.

  Nellie traced the plate’s floral border before returning it to the dresser, wishing now she’d saved the last few notes Suzy had ever written.

  Always wishing . . . wishing following the death of a beloved one, her good friend Rosanna said. Rosanna, too, had regrets, never having gotten over her own mother’s tragic death so many years before . . . nor the deaths of her unborn babies.

  Nellie picked up the hand mirror. Her eyes looked tired and her hair was a little schtrubbich, so she smoothed it some on either side of the middle part.

  Her sadness often came in waves. Just when she thought she’d healed a bit, she would begin to miss Suzy all over again. Setting the mirror down, she opened the small boxlike compartment on the right side of the dresser. There she found the strings from one of Suzy’s white Kapps . . . the last one she’d worn, on the day of her drowning.

  Nellie trembled, knowing she had done a wrongful deed in snipping the ties from the sacred covering.

  Mamma might not forgive me, she thought. Yet my deed is nothing compared to the full truth of Suzy’s final months, whatever that may be.

  Standing there, she recalled the night of Suzy’s viewing here in the house. Mamma and Mamma’s sisters had taken great care to bathe Suzy’s body. They’d curtained the kitchen off, locked all the doors, and laid Suzy out in the pine box after lovingly clothing her in her best blue Sunday dress and long white apron. Poor Rhoda and Nan could hardly bear to be present and left together after a time to go upstairs. Nellie had suffered through it alone, scarcely knowing how to compose herself.

  Not long after, a stream of visitors began coming and going, some staying longer than others. All through the evening this went on, some folk partaking of the great spread of food the women had brought in. Others took nothing more than black coffee before sitting by the open casket, heads bowed. A few of the younger relatives wept softly.

  Nellie had kept to herself, wanting to be near her departed sister yet unable to grieve openly. The news of Suzy’s death was still terribly fresh—a death she wholly believed might have been avoided.

  Long after midnight, when she saw a momentary opportunity—the room’s being suddenly empty of people after Mamma stepped away to the outhouse—Nellie crept to her sister’s casket. Aware of her own breathing, she felt compelled to place her hand on Suzy’s thin wrist, now so cold and lifeless.

  Is it really her?

  For a moment Nellie was frightened by the lack of vitality, recalling how she and Suzy had reached for each other’s warm hands while sharing their bed upstairs. Nellie groaned, her deep sadness enfolding her as she stood, bowed and frozen, so terribly close to her dead sister.

  The darling of the family . . .

  Nellie refused to cry. She must hurry, for Mamma would not be gone much longer.

  Swiftly she pulled the small half page out of her pocket. There was no need to reread the words she had penned earlier, words that had emblazoned themselves onto her heart.

  Dear Suzy,

  I wish I could’ve told you this while you were still alive. I’m sorry we argued the morning before you drowned. I was harsh with you, and I wish I could ask for your forgiveness. I miss you, dearest sister.

  With all my love, Nellie Mae

  She shook, tears falling fast. Then, hesitating at first, she managed to reach under Suzy to raise her slightly, just enough to slide the folded note beneath her.

  With a sorrowful sigh, Nellie stepped back. Suzy’s body lay resting on the heartfelt apology, things she’d longed to say since hearing the devastating news. Little good they did her sister now, but perhaps almighty God would see the words she’d written and take them into account. No matter, Nellie had done what she’d set out to do, her heart and head all tangled up with grief and
regret.

  She moved nearer again, peering down at Suzy’s face, so close. “Oh, Suzy . . . why’d you go with them? Why?”

  Overwhelmed with both guilt and love, she leaned down and kissed Suzy’s cheek. It felt as smooth and hard as the lovely painted faces of English dolls she’d seen and touched at Watt and Shand’s department store in downtown Lancaster. She and Suzy had gone with some Mennonite neighbors, but only that once. Nellie remembered observing the many modern teenagers on the sidewalk—boys with hair cut nearly like her own brothers, and girls with free-flowing waist-length hair wearing long, gathered skirts—as though they were trying to be Plain somehow. She’d never told Mamma about their outing, not even to this day.

  With a faltering breath, Nellie ceased her reverie and lifted the white ties of Suzy’s head covering from the small wooden cubicle. She slipped them into her empty pocket—the same spot where she’d kept Caleb’s wonderful note.

  She sighed. When, oh when, will my joy over Caleb overshadow my sadness for Suzy?

  CHAPTER 6

  Talkative little Emma did come to visit that evening, just as Mamma had wished. As Nan had guessed, it was Nellie who was asked to keep the inquisitive child, and she bedded her niece down early in an attempt to get her settled in.

  True to form, Emma had more questions than Nellie had answers. “Where’s Aunt Suzy right now?” she asked, lying in bed on the side where Suzy had always slept. “When’s she comin’ back home?”

  Nellie was shocked that her brother James and his wife, Martha, had not explained to their young daughter the finality of Suzy’s passing. Or had Emma’s young mind simply failed to understand?

  Emma began to whimper. “Suzy didn’t take her doll with her.”

  Nellie looked around the room, unsure what Emma could mean.

  Still sniffling, Emma rubbed her eyes. “She left her little doll behind. She’ll come back for it, jah?”

  “Aw, dearie.” Nellie leaned forward, kissing her niece’s soft forehead.

  “Aendi Suzy made it last summer . . . during Preachin’ ” came the explanation. “She made a dolly in a cradle with her white hankie.”

  Nellie lifted Emma into her arms. “Of course she did.” Nellie knew exactly what Suzy had done to entertain Emma during the long, hot Sunday mornings. All the teenage girls and young mothers knew that useful trick.

  “I kept the dolly in her cradle, Aunt Nellie Mae.” Emma leaned back on the pillow.

  “Did you bring it with you?”

  Emma shook her head, her blue eyes blinking sleepily. “She’s in my room at home. I’ll show you next time you visit, all right?”

  “Why, sure.” She felt as tuckered out as Emma seemed, her energy for the day spent.

  “I named her Elizabeth.”

  Nellie smiled. “Didja know that’s Mammi Betsy’s name, too?”

  “Jah. Mamma told me.” Emma closed her eyes. “It’s a right perty one.” She opened her eyes again. “But I still want Aunt Suzy to come home.”

  Nellie considered the rote prayers she recited in her mind each night while lying in bed—prayers she’d learned as a child younger even than Emma.

  Now I lay me down to sleep . . .

  She wondered if Emma was saying them now, too. Or had she succumbed too soon to sleep?

  O Lord God and heavenly Father, is my little sister truly in heaven? Or that other place . . . ?

  Betsy was glad for the help she was getting with breakfast preparations this morning. Rhoda hummed softly, gingerly tapping the eggs on the frying pan to break them open while Nellie stirred the pancake batter as the griddle heated up. Betsy found it amusing and baffling that a girl who loved to bake sweets was so thin. She supposed it was because Nellie worked so awful hard.

  Reuben liked his eggs fried over-easy, with plenty of pancakes on the side. So did Emma, a chip off the older block. She was balanced on her Dawdi’s knee, her hands folded expectantly on the table. James was due to come for Emma sometime midmorning, and Betsy hated to think they must say good-bye very soon.

  “How many pancakes can you eat?” Reuben asked Emma.

  She spun around in his arms. “Ach, you know, Dawdi!” A chorus of giggles spilled out.

  He played along, frowning a bit. “Well, now, let’s see, was that six or seven?”

  Emma grinned and jumped off his lap, going over to watch the pancakes rise on the big griddle, stepping back when Nellie cautioned her.

  Betsy moved about the table, pouring freshly squeezed orange juice into each glass. Truly, she couldn’t keep her eyes off James’s next oldest, such a delight she was. Much blonder than even their Suzy, Emma had oodles of freckles, with one almost exactly where one of Suzy’s had been—just left of the tip of her petite nose.

  Emma came running. “I wanna wash the dishes, all right, Mammi?”

  “You’ll have to ask Aunt Rhoda and Auntie Nan. Aunt Nellie will be out at the shop.”

  As usual, Betsy had heard Nellie Mae rise in the wee hours before dawn, quietly pulling out the many pans in preparation for baking her cookies, pies, and other goodies. Every day she performed the same ritual, except for the Lord’s Day. This day, Nellie had baked an abundance of bread, too. How she managed with only a minimum of help from her sisters was anyone’s guess.

  Rhoda had been employed for quite some time now by the Kraybills, their English neighbors down the road. Other young women in their church district had started doing much the same, with Bishop Joseph’s grudging permission. Even Reuben had stated his opinion against Rhoda’s arrangement, but by the time he’d known about it, Rhoda had already been working there for several weeks. Truth was, as an unbaptized young adult, Rhoda was to some extent at liberty to do as she pleased.

  As for Nan, until recently she had helped Nellie fairly regularly at the bakery shop, although reluctantly. These days she more often cooked and cleaned alongside Betsy in the house, stepping with ease into Suzy’s shoes.

  “Can I help Aunt Nellie, then, after I wash the dishes?” Emma’s question broke into Betsy’s thoughts.

  Reuben smiled broadly at the wee girl’s persistence. “You’re a busy bee today, ain’t so?”

  “Only today?” Nellie Mae commented from across the room. “You should try sleepin’ with her.” Suddenly she seemed sheepish, like she ought not to have hinted at her sleepless night with Emma within earshot. But the truth of the matter was Emma didn’t seem to pay her any mind.

  Emma leaped off Betsy’s lap and headed over to Reuben again. Such a busy girl is right, thought Betsy, getting some paper napkins for Emma to put around the table. “Here, girlie . . . help your ol’ Mammi out.”

  Emma stood and took the napkins, turning her face up to look right at her. “Aw, you ain’t so old, Mammi. You’re just awful sad.”

  The innocent words unlocked something inside, and lest she weep in front of them, Betsy inched toward the doorway and stepped into the sitting area. Behind her, she heard her husband call to Emma. Going to the window, she stood there almost out of habit, as she could scarcely see for the tears.

  Rosanna set to work after the noon meal crocheting a baby blanket with pale yellows, greens, and blues. Just right for either a boy or a girl, she thought, although she hoped for a son for her husband, Elias. A firstborn ought to be a boy. Besides, if they were to have only one child, then a son would be ever so nice.

  She pressed her hand to her heart. Ever since Cousin Kate’s visit and the splendid news, Rosanna had been unable to sleep because of happiness. To think dear Kate would offer up her very own! And now beloved Nellie Mae knew the joyous news, as well.

  ’Tis God’s doing, Kate had told her several times that day she’d come so unexpectedly, her face shining. The day had been one of surprises, to be sure, beginning with Elias’s bringing in a whole bushel basket of oversized cucumbers and butternut squash. Rosanna had already set about to making pickles—both sweet and dill—when Cousin Kate had shown up, astonishing her with her words.

  “I
want to give you a baby, Rosanna,” Kate had said. “Seein’ you struggle so . . . losin’ several wee ones to miscarriage, just nearly broke my heart.” Kate had gone on to say she and John had talked it over. “Right away John was in agreement. Something that rarely ever happens, to be sure!”

  Sighing now with all the love she already possessed for Kate’s little one, Rosanna took pleasure in the feel of the yarn—the softest she could find at the yard goods store. The beauty of it, the way the pastel colors blended so prettily, made her hope this blanket might be as lovely as some she’d seen at Maryann’s. Nellie’s sister-in-law seemed to have a knack for making baby blankets.

  Just as she seems to have wee ones nearly at will.

  Rosanna brushed away the thought; she didn’t see how she could be any happier if she were expecting her own child.

  “Ach, if Nellie Mae wasn’t awful surprised,” she murmured as her crochet hook made the yarn loops. She let out a gleeful laugh as she recalled Nellie’s brown eyes growing wide at the news. Nellie knew well of her pain . . . the heartache of waiting and hoping, month after endless month, for a babe that never lived to see his mother’s face. Truly, Nellie was like a sister to her. She remembered the many long-ago times she’d stayed with Nellie and her family; and the same for her friend, spending time at Rosanna’s father’s house with Rosanna and her brothers. Though life was keeping them farther apart nowadays, their dear friendship had remained strong. For this reason, Rosanna had wanted Nellie to be the first after Elias to know.

  As she began the next row on the baby blanket, Rosanna wondered how her friend was really faring here lately. She felt a tremor of sadness at the thought of her own losses, particularly her mother—much too young to die.

  And Suzy Fisher dead now, too . . .

  Nellie’s sister’s drowning still caused Rosanna distress from time to time, and she rose and walked into the kitchen. She set her crocheting down on the table and went to stir the beef stew simmering for dinner. How Suzy’s death had come about was not at all clear to her. The Fisher family had said only that she had gone boating with some friends and an accident had occurred, although Nellie had shared a bit more privately with Rosanna. More than was necessary to be told around, she had added.