by Linda Byler
“Now, Mam,” Sadie said soberly. But her heart was full of joy and thanksgiving. The old Mam was truly back. Her spirit. Her passion. It was all there, a banner of well-being.
Mam liked going to town by herself. She would rather pay twice the amount than split the cost with other riders. It was more convenient to go her own way to the stores where she wanted to shop, and then have the space to load everything in the small van, rather than crowding in more people who, in Mam’s words, “stopped at every fencepost.”
“Then Reuben’s tooth was infected and the dentist pulled it, saying he thinks he has him numbed up, but here was Reuben in all this pain and misery, and Dan Detweiler’s wife had an appointment at that quack chiropractor, what’s his name? Bissle or something. I wouldn’t take my cat to him, but Sally goes every week. Says he helps her sciatica, or however you say that. Well, there we sat, Fred Ketty talking my ear off, still shoving that toothpick around.”
Suddenly she stopped, turned to Sadie, and said, “Did you know about those quarter horses being shot?”
“I heard,” Sadie said, opening a box of Raisin Bran Crunch, pouring a liberal amount into a bowl.
“It’s a bad omen. Fred Ketty said there’s no way anyone would find her sitting in a buggy. It’s downright dangerous. I had a notion to tell Ketty she don’t have to worry, as tight as Fred is with his horse feed. That poor, hairy creature they drive is too pitiful to shoot.”
Sadie laughed, then put her arms around her mother, laid her head on her shoulder, and held her close.
“Mam, I love you so much. You are back to being my Mam again.”
“Ach, Sadie. Ach, my.”
Mam’s voice sounded choked with emotion. When Sadie stepped back, Mam held her at arm’s length, her eyes soft and watery.
“Let’s give God the credit.”
“I will.”
It was more than the gas light that cast the kitchen in a warm yellow glow that evening. The love of God was so near, Sadie could touch it.
Mam hummed softly, then laughed.
“You know, I’ll probably never be able to share my town trips well. Isn’t that awful? I should be ashamed of myself.”
“No. You are so my Mam,” Sadie answered, as she poured cold milk on her dish of cereal and headed for the porch swing.
The view from the porch was magnificent. The navy blue night competed with the disappearing blaze of the sun, casting the clouds in burgundy, magenta, and powder blue. The pines were black and pointed, like a silhouette of soldiers standing at perfect attention, the glory of the sunset their leader.
A mockingbird sang his plaintive evening cry, its warble a drumroll for the pine trees to begin their march. After that he imitated a robin, chirping shrilly, on and on, stopping only when the car bearing Leah and Rebekah wound its way up the drive.
The sisters tumbled out, saying goodnight, then plopped on the porch swing.
“Slide over, fatty. Whatcha eating? Mm! Give me a bite.”
Leah grabbed the bowl, while Rebekah lifted a spoonful to her mouth.
“Mmm. Did Mam get a fresh box of Raisin Bran Crunch?”
“Yep!” Sadie said happily.
Home was like this. A place where everything came together. All the anxieties of jobs, insecurities, the whole wide perplexing world and its difficulties were put to rest the minute you opened the kitchen door and met your sisters or Mam.
Not one person on earth understood you the way a mother or a sister did. They could see straight through you. So there was no use trying to be cheerful when you really weren’t, or pleased when you were horribly disappointed, or anything that made you out to be something you weren’t.
“Hey, don’t eat all that cereal. It’s mine, remember?” Sadie said.
“I’ll get you some more. Hey, did you hear about that poor family whose quarter horses were shot? Everyone is talking about it down at the market. It’s just pathetic. The parents were hoping their daughter would take first place in the barrel race at the end of August.”
Reuben came out and flopped down on the concrete steps, one hand held delicately to his swollen cheek. He sighed loudly. Then he rolled his eyes in the most pitiful way, sighing deeply again. When that didn’t get much of a response, he said loudly, “My tooth was infected.”
Leah had just launched into a vivid account of the tragedy and the beauty of the reddish quarter horses. Sadie and Rebekah listened wide-eyed.
“My tooth was infected,” he repeated, much louder.
Leah stopped, turned to Reuben, and asked if it hurt.
“Oh, yes. I think the dentist used a digging iron and a crowbar to loosen it.”
“Reuben!”
“It felt like my whole jaw was coming apart. I’m never going back to that dentist ever again.”
The girls clucked sufficiently, pitying him until he was satisfied that he had impressed them with his bravery. He sat back against the porch post, listening as the girls talked of the sheep farmer and his daughter.
Reuben sat up, listened intently, then began waving his hands.
“This is odd. This is really odd. Listen to this.”
He had his sister’s full attention now, so he leaped up from the steps, his aching mouth forgotten, took a deep breath, and proceeded to tell them about the character at the dentist’s office.
“He was skinny, greasy, his hair in a ponytail, tattoos all over his forearms, and I guess I was staring ’cause Mam told me I’m not allowed to. He was… Well, I’d hate to meet him in the dark.”
“What’s so odd about him?”
“I’m not done yet. His cell phone rang. You know, people with manners usually go outside to talk, or else they talk quietly. Boy, not him. He stayed right there and talked in the oddest way.”
He hesitated, then asked, “What’s a chink?”
Sadie looked at Leah. “Isn’t that a slang word for a Chinese person?”
“I don’t know. You’re the reader, not me,” Leah answered.
Reuben continued, “He said a lot of swear words. Mam’s mouth got tighter and tighter. He said something about those chinks. And talked about a target, then got really angry about some messed up operation.”
“It couldn’t be.”
“Who knows?”
“Was it someone who knows something about the quarter horses?”
“Oh, dear, Reuben, you should have gone out to the parking lot and got his license number.”
That brought a solid snort from Reuben.
“How could I? I didn’t know which vehicle he was driving. And besides, I don’t know if he’s connected with that quarter-horse deal.”
As darkness fell, the girls made plans for a chicken barbecue dinner. Dat joined them on the porch and offered some advice. Mam contentedly sipped a tall glass of sweet tea on the wooden rocker.
Sadie noticed Mam’s covering was crooked and that she had a pinched look around the corners of her mouth. Sadie could only imagine the restraint it required to accept the long wait at the chiropractor’s office and then endure her distaste for Fred Ketty’s toothpick.
They decided to organize a bake sale and give all the proceeds to Ben Ching and his family, the quarter horses being such a terrible loss. They’d make chicken corn soup, barbecued chicken, and whatever else the Amish folks could think of. All the food would be donated. Mam suggested a consignment auction, which the girls thought was a great idea, but Dat said they’d need some of the settlement’s active leaders to give the “go-ahead.”
In the days that followed, the girls wrote letters and made phone calls while Dat organized a meeting the following Thursday evening. The men who attended solemnly planned the event and voted unanimously to hold it at the Orvie Bontrager farm on the second Saturday in September. As they drank coffee and ate chocolate whoopie pies, they chose Dat to speak to Ben. They asked the women to plan the bake sale.
Sadie offered to give spring wagon rides with Paris—for the English people who turned up for the benefit.
Reuben snorted so loudly at the suggestion that Old Emery Weaver turned the whole way around to see where the noise came from. Reuben slid way down on the recliner behind his book so no one could see his face. Anna giggled out loud, and her face turned bright red as she ran out on the porch to finish laughing.
Sadie rose straight to the challenge. Let them laugh. She knew she could do anything she wanted with Paris, so she’d show them.
She coaxed Dat into putting temporary seats on the old buckboard. She painted it a glossy black and put an old piece of carpet on the floor, and it was just fine. Rebekah pronounced it a mighty chariot of goodwill. Sadie couldn’t have agreed more.
Reuben refused to participate. No amount of wheedling or promised sums of money made a difference. He sat on the fence like an obstinate little owl, blinking his eyes wisely, chewing on a long piece of hay. He mostly snorted or made cutting remarks. When Sadie told Dat, Reuben was taken down a notch by having to stack firewood on the north side of the barn.
Anna loitered on the outskirts of the pasture, but when Sadie gestured for her to help, Anna disappeared into the house. Finally, in exasperation, as Paris sidestepped and tossed her head trying to get rid of the blinders, Sadie tied the horse to the fence and went to find someone to help.
Reuben was slowly stacking firewood, so angry that he threw a sizable stick at her. Sadie marched up and pulled his ear as hard as she could, and he began yowling in earnest until Dat appeared around the corner of the barn.
Sadie found Anna at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, blinking back tears. She swatted savagely when Sadie asked her what was wrong.
“Sadie… I would love to help you, but…”
She stopped, her plump shoulders slumping dejectedly as she whispered, “I’m too fat to help you give buggy rides.”
Instantly, Sadie slid into a chair opposite her sister, reached across the table, and took one of Anna’s soft, brown hands.
“Anna, look at me. You are the perfect one to help. We’ll wear the same color dress the day of the sale, and you can drive. Help me, Anna. I can’t do this by myself.”
“Reuben would be better.”
“Not for this. He’s a wonderful rider, but driving is better for you. You genuinely like people, and you’ll be friendlier. Reuben would be so … so … snorty all the time.”
Anna wiped her eyes, a flash of self-confidence in her shaky smile.
Chapter 9
THE COMMUNITY WAS ABUZZ WITH PLANS FOR the consignment sale. There were always new messages on the phone and people donating things they thought would sell well: sofas, kitchen chairs, lawn mowers, bedding, old quilts, anything they didn’t need and would help to form a lively auction.
The old buckboard was sort of a do-it-yourself job, Sadie knew, but it looked clean and glossy. The wheels were solid, and the new pair of fiberglass shafts fit perfectly. Paris was a picture of regal beauty once she was fitted between them.
Sadie and Anna had two weeks to work with Paris. It wasn’t as long as Sadie would have liked, but it would have to do. The first time Sadie put a harness on Paris, she pranced and snorted at the unaccustomed attachment on her back. Anna held her steady, walking behind her with the reins while Sadie spoke gently to the horse as they walked and then trotted around the pasture. Paris pranced and tossed her head, but Anna was consistent, holding the reins steady as Sadie led her around the pasture.
“Stop throwing your head,” she admonished her horse. “You know you’re not acting like a good horse should.”
They stopped, and Sadie stroked her neck, adjusted the collar, then stepped back. She had an idea.
“Anna, take her by yourself. I don’t think she likes me hanging onto her bit. You try.”
Anna bit her lip and shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Try. Just lift the reins a bit and cluck, the way Dat does with Charlie.”
“I can’t. I’m not you. She won’t listen.”
“Anna, please. Just try.”
Sadie could see the resolve in her sister’s face as Anna straightened her back, lifted her chin, and nervously said, “Komm, Paris.”
For one split second, Sadie was afraid Paris would not obey, then, her head lowered only slightly, she leaned into the collar and pulled, the buckboard rolling smoothly after her.
“Turn her in a big circle,” Sadie called, and when Paris lifted her head and stepped out with a fancy gait, Sadie got goose bumps. She felt like crying, then laughing, clasping her hands together so hard her knuckles hurt.
Look at her! A genuine show-off, she thought. A real one. Oh, Paris, you gorgeous creature. You look like a horse in a show ring. Her light mane and tail streamed in the stiff, evening breeze. She made a perfect circle, trotting slowly, then stopped obediently when Anna pulled in on the reins.
“Whoa.”
“Oh, Anna! That was perfect! Absolutely! You are simply a natural driving Paris. I wouldn’t even have to be there!”
Anna drew in a deep breath, sat up very straight, her eyes shining, and said, “Do you really mean it, Sadie, or are you just saying that for goot-manich?”
“No, no, I’m not just being kind. You did a wonderful job.”
From that day on, Anna flourished. Her confidence in her ability to drive Paris steadied both horse and driver. And when Anna finally took Paris down the drive, the horse flicked her ears only when Anna slammed the lever forward and the old brakes screeched.
They trotted Paris down the road, passersby waving and turning to watch. Anna sat straight, waved, and smiled. Sadie knew the buggy rides would be a hit with the sale patrons. And they’d do wonders for Anna’s confidence.
The day of the consignment sale turned out to be cloudy in the morning. Sadie ran to the window countless times to see if the gray clouds were churning with darker ones that promised rain. Finally, she walked outside, licked her forefinger, and held it up to the breeze, which was very slight. But she could still feel the difference, the side to the west drying quicker.
Yes! It would not rain today. A few sprinkles or scattered showers, perhaps, but not a pelting rain with no let up.
She dressed quickly. The new pale-blue dress shimmered over her shoulders as she put it on. It was a beautiful color, a happy one, if there was such a thing, she thought. She pinned her apron quickly and gave her appearance a final check in the mirror. She grabbed her purse off the oak clothes tree in her room and hurried down the stairs.
She was alarmed to meet Anna, who averted her tear-stained face as she busily tied her shoes, sniffing quietly. Mam was wrapping chocolate shoofly pies in Saran Wrap, thoroughly flustered. Dat hitched Charlie to the sparkling clean surrey outside.
Ach, my, Anna, Sadie thought.
“What’s wrong with Anna?” she whispered to Mam.
Mam turned to look, saw Anna’s face and asked, “Anna, why are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
Mam shrugged her shoulders, wrapped another pie, and quickly slid it into the pie rack, a homemade tower with 12 shells surrounded by screen, with a door and a handle on top. It was the easiest way to transport 12 pies in a buggy, or any vehicle for that matter.
After they left, Sadie caught Anna’s eye and raised her eyebrows in a silent invitation to spill her sadness. Immediately, Anna’s chin quivered.
“My dress is too tight, Sadie. I look so awful. It’s… I look like a pale blue elephant!”
The last word was drawn out on a wail of despair, the self-hatred so evident you could taste it, a horrible metallic taste of untruth wrapped around Anna’s conscience until it eliminated all rational thinking.
How? How did a person go about correcting this?
Sadie put one arm around Anna’s soft shoulders and slid two fingers inside the belt of her apron. She assured Anna that there was room to spare, and whatever made her think the dress was too tight?
“Everything I wear is too tight,” Anna said, shrugging Sadie’s hand off her shoulder.
S
tanding before the bathroom mirror, Anna burst out in another long, drawn-out exclamation of disgust.
“My hair! I hate my hair.”
“Anna, stop.”
Sadie was firm, standing behind her, finding her gaze in the mirror.
“No! Look at me! I’m a fat ugly … toad. My hair isn’t right.”
“Anna, come. Sit down.”
Sadie told her God made her unique, according to His will, and it was wrong to think of yourself in such a harmful way. These thoughts were of the devil, and eventually, she would believe them, which could cause harmful behavior, like anorexia or bulimia.
“What’s that?” Anna asked, wide-eyed.
“I’ll explain it sometime. Driver’s here!”
The Orvie Bontrager farm was a kaleidoscope of color and movement. Vehicles crept along the driveway and parked in fields and ditches. Children ran about in bright colors, constantly changing the scenery—a red dress here, a green shirt there, yellow straw hats bobbing along on little heads, sticky little fingers clutching colorful candy.
The auctioneer’s cry rose and fell as he sold horses and surreys, ponies, sheep, goats, pigeons in cages, a litter of kittens. The crowd pressed close, eager to hear the bidding.
Sadie and Anna went to find Paris. They had decided to bring the horse down the evening before to familiarize her with the throng of people, vehicles, and other animals. When she saw Anna and Sadie, she nickered a good morning, shoving her nose into Anna’s palm for her usual treat of an apple, a carrot, or a few sugar cubes.
“How was your night? You didn’t like it down here, did you?” Sadie whispered.
Anna nudged Sadie’s elbow. “Look who’s here!”
Mark Peight was striding purposefully in her direction, a broad grin on his handsome face.
“Hello! What are you doing with Paris here?” he asked.
Sadie struggled to keep the anger from taking control of her tongue. If you’d date me the way normal guys do instead of storming out of a dining room and then coming to throw those silly pebbles at my window, you’d know what I’m doing here.