A Simple Song

by Melody Carlson

  “Your grandmother was one mysterious woman.” Bekka shook her head.

  “Ja. Her story keeps growing bigger.” Katrina thought of Aunt Alma again, knowing she would want to hear the music on this record. “Can I ask Aunt Alma to come to your office to hear Mammi’s songs?”

  “Ja. Tell her to come on over. I’m usually out here in the afternoon.” Bekka let out a yawn, and Katrina realized how late it was. They began putting things away, and with everything turned off, they tiptoed into the house. Once they were in bed, Katrina listened to the sounds of the night. Bekka’s even breathing signaled she was asleep, but Katrina was now wide awake.

  So many thoughts and emotions were rushing through her mind—guilt for singing, concerns for the family farm, curiosity about Mammi’s past and the money, dreams of someday becoming Cooper’s wife, worry that marriage would take her far from her family—it was like a herd of wild horses had been set loose inside her head. Finally, she slipped out of bed and retrieved her little radio from her bag, slid in the earplug, and eventually began to feel drowsy as she listened to the comforting sounds of music from decades past.

  Katrina knew that Daadi might already be asleep by now. It wasn’t that church was physically tiring, since they mostly sat, but the three-hour service did make for a long morning. Then there was the social gathering afterward, along with a light lunch. By the time Daadi got home, he was usually ready for a nap, but Katrina had asked Aunt Alma to keep him awake until she got there. Now she was hurrying along the fence line with seven hundred dollars pinned inside of her camisole, where it had been since this morning before church.

  Aunt Alma greeted her on the porch. “Katrina, I told Daed you wanted to take a walk with him.”

  Daadi smiled as he emerged from the front room. “I would be honored to walk with you, Katrina.”

  “Thank you.” She linked her arm in his, and together they went down the steps. As they strolled away from the house, she made small talk about the weather and the crops. Once they were a safe distance away, she began to speak more openly. “Daadi,” she began, “I helped Aunt Alma clear away Mammi’s things.”

  “Ja.” He nodded. “She told me. That seems fitting. I know I can trust you, Katrina.”

  “Ja. Of course you can.” She pointed to a log bench. “Do you want to sit?”

  He seemed unsure but then agreed. “You would think after sitting all morning in church, we would be tired of sitting.”

  As he eased himself down, she turned from him and unpinned the envelope of bills from her camisole. “There were interesting things in Mammi’s box,” she told him.

  “I figured there would be.”

  “You mean you didn’t actually know what was in there?”

  “Didn’t know . . . and don’t want to know.” He looked directly at her. “I don’t mind that you know. You’re like her in so many ways.”

  “So you don’t want me to tell you about what was in the box?”

  “That’s right. When your mammi asked me to make her a box to put the things from her past in, she told me I could look if I wanted, but I said, ‘No, thank you, everything I need to know about you is right in front of me.’ So after she filled the box, she hammered the lid down tight, and that was the end of it.”

  “But you still didn’t want anyone else to know about her past?”

  He nodded firmly. “That’s right. Her past was hers and hers alone. No one else needs to know.”

  Katrina bit her lip.

  “Well, excepting you and Alma. I don’t mind that you two know.” He adjusted the brim of his straw hat to keep the afternoon sun out of his eyes. “But don’t tell your father. Your mammi never wanted Frost to know about her past. He was her only child, and I think it was her way of protecting him.”

  “What if there was something in the box that would be useful to you?”

  He looked doubtful. “Useful to me? Something that was nailed in that box all those years ago? I don’t see how.”

  She held out the money. “This was in the box, Daadi.”

  He peered down at the bills with a surprised but troubled expression.

  “I thought I should give it back to you.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I do not want that money.”

  “What do I do with it then?”

  “I don’t much care.” His expression grew stony hard, as if he was remembering something, and she wondered how much he really knew about his deceased wife’s past. Was it possible he imagined it to be worse than it was?

  “Then I will give it to Daed.” She turned to pin the envelope of money back inside her dress.

  “No. You cannot do that, Katrina.”

  “Why not?”

  “Like I told you, your mammi never wanted Frost to know about her past. That is something I want to continue to respect. For her sake. And for his.”

  “But what about the money?”

  “You can burn it for all I care.” He pushed himself to his feet.

  “Just don’t give it to my father,” she said quietly as she linked her arm in his again.

  “That’s right. And don’t bring this up with me again, Katrina.” His tone was as firm as Daed’s was when he corrected his children.

  “No, Daadi. I won’t.” She walked him to the house, saw him to his chair in the front room, then went on her way. She had no idea what she would do with the money, but she wondered if it could somehow help with Daed’s back. She had heard Mamm saying how expensive his surgery would be. How far would seven hundred dollars go?

  Her house was its usual Sunday kind of quiet. Sadie was reading in the front room. The brothers were nowhere to be seen. Daed was probably still flat on his back, just like he’d been the last several days. She found Mamm sitting outside next to her flower garden, just staring blankly at it.

  “Hello,” Katrina called out as she approached.

  Mamm looked up. “You’re back from visiting Daadi?”

  Katrina nodded as she sat down on the bench next to Mamm. Without really thinking, she unpinned the envelope from her camisole and handed it to Mamm.

  “What’s this?” Mamm’s eyes opened wide when she saw the contents.

  “Seven hundred dollars.”

  Mamm looked at Katrina with a confused expression. “Where did you get it?”

  “Daadi said I’m not supposed to tell Daed—or anyone really. But it’s from Mammi.”

  “Mammi left this to you?”

  Katrina paused, trying to think of a way to explain this dilemma while honoring both her grandparents’ wishes. “I thought maybe it could help Daed get the back operation.”

  “That is generous of you, Katrina, but Daed’s operation will cost more than twenty times this amount.”

  Katrina wasn’t very fast at math, but she knew that meant more than fourteen thousand dollars. “Really?”

  Mamm nodded, handing the money back.

  “What should I do with this?”

  “Save it for your future. I’m sure that’s why Mammi left it to you.” She frowned. “And do as Daadi says. Do not tell anyone about this money. It will only stir up jealousy.”

  “Where should I keep it?”

  Mamm got up and headed back into the kitchen, where she found a canning jar and filled it with red beans. “Slide the money down into the middle of the beans.”

  Katrina did as she was told. Mamm secured the lid, climbed onto a step stool, and tucked the jar far in the back of the top shelf of the pantry where it couldn’t even be seen. “It will be safe there,” she assured Katrina, “until you have need of it. For your future.”

  “Unless someone accidentally makes it into a pot of beans.”

  Mamm laughed. “Costly chili.”

  They walked back outside and sat back down on the bench. “Mamm, can I ask you a question?”

  “You know you can.”

  “Why is it wrong to sing?”

  “Wrong?” Mamm frowned. “It’s not wrong. We just sang from the Ausbund at ch
urch this morning.”

  “I know. I mean the kind of singing where you enjoy the music.”

  “We let you and Cal go to the group singing last night.”

  “I know. But I don’t think Daed really approves of that.”

  Mamm sighed. “Your father has some of his own ideas about singing.”

  “Some mothers sing lullabies to their babies,” Katrina pointed out. “I’ve heard them. And some sing silly songs to their little children. But you never did that with us.”

  She nodded a bit sadly. “That is because your daed forbade it.”

  Katrina had suspected this. “Do you know why?”

  Mamm shook her head. “It was one of the few things we disagreed upon. But he was the head of the household. I submit to him.”

  “Did your mother sing to you?”

  “Ja. She did.”

  “I wonder if I will sing to my children . . . someday.”

  Mamm smiled. “They will be blessed children if you do, Katrina. I’ve heard you sing.”

  For some reason that made Katrina so happy that she felt tears of joy in her eyes. She hugged Mamm. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t sing to you as a child.”

  “I understand now.”

  “Remember, your father is simply trying to raise you children the way his parents raised him.”

  “I know. I just hope I can do it differently.”

  “That will depend on who you marry.”

  Katrina thought of Cooper now. She had never mentioned to her parents that Cooper was interested in apprenticing in a settlement more than half a day’s journey away. She knew that Mamm would be distressed to think of Katrina living so far away.

  “If it would make you feel better, you might want to talk to one of the ministers about singing. I know their views on singing are not as strict as your daed’s.”

  Although Katrina felt somewhat comforted by her mother’s words, she still suspected that Mamm would have been disappointed to see Katrina singing like she did for her friends last night. She hoped Mamm would never find out.

  The next two weeks passed uneventfully. Katrina continued singing along with the radio as she did her outdoor chores. She continued to learn the words of more songs. She also continued to look forward to group singing nights and singing in front of her friends whenever they asked. And they asked a lot.

  “You sang beautifully tonight.” Bekka patted Katrina on the back as they rode home from group singing together. “I really loved that song about the man on the hill.”

  Katrina thanked her. Tonight she was sitting in the front of the buggy between Peter, who was driving the pair of gleaming black Percherons again, and Cooper, who was seated on her right. Meanwhile, Bekka was pleased as could be to sit in back with Cal. In fact, Cal appeared happy about the arrangement too.

  Peter was whistling one of the tunes from earlier, and the horses’ hooves were clip-clopping along in time. Katrina couldn’t think of anywhere she would rather be right now. With a nearly full moon high in the sky and her friends all around her, all seemed right with the world. It was a moment she wished she could freeze in time.

  “My grandmother tells me that I am to take us to visit Uncle Earl and Great-Aunt Martha,” Cooper quietly told her.

  “That’s right. I nearly forgot about that.”

  “Is that the uncle who makes cabinets?” Peter asked.

  “Ja.” Cooper nodded. “We might’ve scheduled a trip by now, but Mammi tripped on the porch steps and twisted her ankle last week.”

  “I’m sorry. Is it very bad?”

  “She can’t walk on it. But she did suggest that I could just drive you and your Aunt Alma over.” He shrugged. “That is, if you still want to go.”

  Some of the urgency she’d felt before—longing to understand Mammi’s past—seemed diminished now. Still, she was curious. It also would give her a chance to see where Cooper might be moving to eventually. “Ja, I would like to go. But perhaps we should wait for your grandmother to get better.”

  “Ja. We could wait. But I’ve been wanting to go visit my Uncle Earl for several months now. I need to talk to him about work . . . I need to make a decision about my apprenticeship.” Cooper’s eyes searched her face now, as if he wanted to know her thoughts on this. But how could she even begin to put such things into words, especially with everyone listening?

  “I’m happy to go whenever it’s best for you,” she told him. “I’m sure Aunt Alma feels the same.”

  “Then let’s plan on two weeks from today,” he said. “That’s the first weekend of June. Maybe Mammi will be better by then.”

  “The first weekend of June?” Bekka chimed in from behind. “I just heard that American Star is having auditions in Cleveland during the first week of June. Maybe on your way you can stop and try out for the show.”

  “Cleveland is not on the way,” Katrina sharply told her.

  “What is American Star?” Cooper asked.

  “It’s a TV show that Bekka sneakily watches on the computer—the computer that is supposed to be used for our family’s business.” Peter tossed his sister a scornful look as he continued driving the horses.

  “Bekka watches TV?” Cal sounded genuinely shocked.

  “At least it’s not trashy TV,” Bekka said, defending herself. “Just a bunch of people who can’t sing half as good as Katrina. They compete for a cash prize. It used to be a million dollars to split between the two winners—a guy and a girl—but now I think both top singers win a whole million dollars each.”

  “A million dollars just for singing good?” Cal suddenly sounded interested.

  “Ja. And the ones who make it into the top eight win money too,” she told him. “I can’t remember for sure how much each one wins. But I do know this: Katrina could win. Maybe even first place.”

  “Katrina could win a million dollars?” Cal asked.

  “She sings that good,” Bekka confirmed.

  Katrina shook her head. “You cannot be serious. I would never have a chance against English people.”

  “But you have a good singing voice,” Cal assured her. “Bekka thinks you could win.”

  “That is completely ridiculous.” Katrina looked at Cooper, hoping he’d say something to help her out of this nonsense. But he was being quiet.

  “She doesn’t even have to win the top prize,” Bekka told Cal. “I think the smallest prize is about fifty thousand dollars.”

  “That’s more than enough for Daed’s surgery.” Cal nudged Katrina. “Maybe you should do this.”

  “Cal.” She shook her head. “I’m sure there’s never been an Amish person on that show, and besides the fact that I wouldn’t have a chance, can you imagine what Daed would say?”

  “You would have a chance,” Bekka told her. “I’ve watched that show for three years. You are better than all of them.”

  “Even if all that was true, I would be shunned for doing something like this.”

  “You can’t be shunned,” Peter pointed out. “You haven’t even been baptized yet.”

  “You know what I mean,” she told him. “And my parents would be humiliated.”

  “Is it worse to be humiliated,” Cal asked, “or to suffer pain every day like Daed does? Besides, when it was all over you could come home and apologize.”

  “Yes,” Bekka said eagerly. “Your parents have to forgive you if you apologize and repent.”

  “Then you could get baptized and join the church,” Cal told her. “I would even get baptized with you. That would make our parents very happy.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Katrina turned to look at her friend and brother. Couldn’t they see how crazy this plan was? Had they all lost their minds?

  “You’ve seen how much everyone at the group singing loves your music,” Cal continued. Even in the dim lamplight of the carriage, she could see the longing in her brother’s eyes. He was just as concerned about Daed and the situation with the farm as she was. “When you sin
g those story songs, Katrina, everyone really listens to you. I’ve watched their faces. I honestly believe it changes how they think about things. In a good way.”

  “That’s true,” Cooper said. “That first night—when you sang the tin soldier song—it was like being in church, only better.”

  Katrina didn’t even know how to respond to that, but it touched her deeply. She promised her friends that she would think about trying out. “I’ll pray about it too,” she said as they dropped her and Cal off at their house. And that was exactly what she intended to do. She would pray, God would say no, and that would be the end of it.

  7

  Daed’s back was worse than ever on Sunday morning. The whole house was awakened even before the sun came up by the sound of him shrieking so loudly it seemed as if he were dying. Katrina wondered if pain could actually kill a person.

  “I will stay here with Daed,” she told Mamm as they finished breakfast. “You need a break.”

  “One of the boys will stay too,” Mamm said, “in case he needs help. He’s too heavy for you.”

  “I’ll stay,” Cal offered quickly.

  Mamm turned to Katrina. “Daed said he didn’t want breakfast, but I want him to take one of those pills Dr. Warner prescribed, and he should have food with it.”

  “I’ll take him up some oatmeal and applesauce,” Katrina assured her.

  “Ja, that would be good. The pills are in the cupboard next to the spices. Thank you.”

  As the others were leaving for church, Katrina was hurrying upstairs with Daed’s breakfast and the bottle of pills. She knew the pills were for pain and very strong. She also knew Daed detested them. However, hearing him groaning down the hallway convinced her she might be able to persuade him.

  “Daed?” she called out as she knocked on his door. “Breakfast.”

  His answer was a loud groan.

  She pushed open the door with her elbow. “I know you’re feeling poorly,” she said as she set the tray on the dresser. “But Mamm says you need to eat. And you need to take a pill.”

  “Not hungry,” he said stubbornly.

  “Aw, come on now, Daed.” She put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. Was it just her imagination, or had he aged a lot in the past few weeks? His hair, which was sticking out all over, was streaked with gray. Even his beard seemed faded. And his face was ashen—so much so that it sent a chill through her. This was serious. She opened the bottle and removed a pill, holding it before him with a glass of water. “Daed, you know this pill will help with the pain.”