by Marta Perry
Isaac sat in his own chair, tilted so that it faced hers, and leaned back, feeling the pleasurable ache of muscles that had been well-exerted. “Sorry I was late for supper. Onkel Simon had too many things to do for two people. He forgets he can’t power through the work like he used to.”
“It was not a problem.” Judith’s face was serene. “Of course you should stay and help him. You’re so close—like a father and son, ain’t so?”
“I guess.” The admission made him a little uncomfortable. “He’s sehr gut to us, too.”
Judith nodded, a trace of a smile lingering on her face. She and Onkel Simon always got on fine—better than Onkel Simon did with his son Lige’s wife, to tell the truth. But who wouldn’t get along with Judith?
Isaac’s gaze lit on the packet of letters that lay on the table under the storybook she’d been reading. The three-cent stamp on the envelope told him what they were. “You were looking through those old letters again, ain’t so?”
She nodded. “They’re so interesting—like looking right into the lives of Amish women sixty years ago. I keep trying to get through them all, but each time I start, I’m interrupted.”
“It’s August. Too much to do on a farm in August for extra reading. Maybe you should save them for the long winter nights.”
Even as he said the joking words, he seemed to feel the cold floorboards under his feet and the warmth of Judith’s body as she curled against him in the double bed. With her snuggled close, he didn’t even notice the ice on the window.
“The cousins were so close, even though they lived far apart.” Obviously her mind was still on the letters. “They told each other all sorts of things about their daily lives.”
“Like you and Rebecca and Barbie,” he suggested. “I think you’re about as close as sisters.”
A smile curved her lips. “Ja, we are. I’m fortunate to have them.”
He nodded, though to tell the truth he’d never really understood the need women seemed to have to talk to other women about anything and everything. He was close to his cousins and his uncle, but when they talked, it was always about the job at hand. Definitely not about how they felt. Still, her cousins, as well as these letters, meant something to his wife, so he should show an interest.
“What kinds of things were happening to them back then that were so different from today?”
Judith’s eyes kindled at the question, and he realized she’d been eager to talk about it. “Mattie Lapp, the woman who owned the study table, had a terrible bad time of it. The Englisch were demanding that Amish kinder go to big Englisch high schools, whether they wanted to or not. She feared that if her daughter went, it might make her long for things away from the faith.”
Isaac frowned a little, trying to remember what he’d been told about this period. “This was before the Supreme Court said we could have our own schools, is that it?”
Judith nodded. “Twenty years before. It seems as if their neighbors thought the Amish were backward. Dumb Dutch. We don’t have to face much of that kind of prejudice nowadays.”
“Not usually. We’re blessed in that way.” He leaned his head against the padded back of his chair. “Still, we’ve got problems of our own. Being more accepted means our young people are exposed to more temptations, like cell phones and computers. And drink and drugs and greed, too, I fear.”
Faces swam in his thoughts—Joseph, Levi, Paul, even little Noah. What pressures from the world would they have to overcome in order to stay Amish?
“We can’t help worrying about it for our kinder,” Judith said gently. “But it’s better to pray and trust than to worry, ain’t so?”
He gave a wry smile. “Better, but not easier.”
Judith seemed to be gazing at something far away. “One thing Mattie said several times in her letters is stuck in my head. ‘All we want is the freedom to choose for ourselves.’”
Isaac considered the words. “True enough. I think we still feel like that when the world gets too close. But is this your way to ease into talking about Joseph and this class you feel he wants to take?”
Judith’s cheeks grew pinker. “It’s the same thing, ja?”
“I—” His words were cut off by the thud of feet, and he heard the back screen door slam. Somehow those boys could never come in without letting it slam behind them. Water ran, and a moment later Levi and Paul scurried in, with Joseph looming behind them.
Isaac fixed his eyes on his second son. “Hands?” he inquired.
With a sigh, Paul presented his hands for inspection.
“Looks like you missed some spots. Go back and wash again, and this time use soap and water.”
Paul looked a little rebellious, but he obeyed. Shaking her head, probably at the fact that this exchange was repeated almost every night, Judith stood, holding Noah close against her.
Maybe he’d best say what he had to while she was still downstairs to hear it. “Joseph, Judith tells me there’s a class about machinery you want to take at the technical school.”
Joseph sent a quick glance from him to Judith. What he saw must have reassured him, because he nodded.
“Do you have the information about it to show me?” Isaac asked when the boy didn’t move.
“Ja, ja, for sure.” Galvanized, Joseph raced to the bureau and pulled out a paper brochure. He thrust it at his brother. “That’s the one I was thinking about.” He leaned over Isaac’s shoulder to point. “See, this is all about how small machinery is made and how to keep it repaired. That’s a useful thing to know, and I’ve heard from some of the guys that this fellow is a good teacher.”
The enthusiasm in the boy’s face took Isaac by surprise. Why did Joseph never look that way when they talked about the dairy farm? For an instant he rebelled, even though he’d already agreed with Judith.
He stifled the feeling. What harm could one class do? It was a small price to make the boy happy. This interest of Joseph’s in machinery was just a passing fad, and the boy would get over it soon enough.
Judith, standing in the archway with Noah sleeping in her arms, met his gaze, and hers was almost pleading.
“Ach, well, if it’s so important to you, I guess you should take the class,” he said. “But mind you don’t skimp on any of your farmwork because of it.”
Joseph’s eyes lit up in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. And Judith—Judith came across the rug, bent over his chair, and kissed him right in front of the kinder.
A small thing to agree to, he’d have thought. But it had made two people he cared about very happy, so he supposed it was worth doing, even if he did have doubts.
• • •
“I still think we should have gone to Harrisburg to one of the big malls,” Barbie said, turning around from her position in the front seat next to the driver they’d hired to take them shopping. “It would have been fun.”
“We’re buying material for our dresses for my wedding. Isn’t that fun without going to some big mall?” Rebecca’s tone was a little sharper than normal, making Judith suspect that the stress of preparation was getting to her.
“Bessie and Ada Mae will have what we need,” Judith reminded her. “What would be our chances of finding plain blue cotton blends at a big Englisch store?”
The three of them had hired Sam Whitney to take them on this trip to Bessie and Ada Mae’s store, since the distance was too far to travel easily by buggy. Sam, a retired mail carrier, seemed to enjoy the diversion. Even now, he met her gaze in the rearview mirror and smiled. She suspected he found Barbie amusing.
“My wife always comes to Bessie and Ada Mae’s for her quilting material,” he said. “According to her, the mall fabric shops are full of wild animal prints and silver glittery net. Not sure what you’d use that for.”
Barbie grinned, never seeming to take offense when her ideas were dismissed.
&n
bsp; “Oh, I don’t know,” she said now. “I could make a tiger-print apron, and Judith would look good in silver glitter, ain’t so?”
Rebecca chuckled, her usual good humor restored. “I don’t think I’ll see Judith in glitter any time soon. As for you—well, you might get more than you bargained for if you went around with a tiger-print apron on.”
Sam slowed the car as they approached the turn into the lane. Obviously he’d been here before, probably many times. No one who hadn’t would drive so easily to the store, hidden as it was in the country. The lane wound past a cornfield and a stand of trees and then emerged into a cleared space around a barn that had been converted into a fabric shop years earlier.
Bessie and Ada Mae were twin sisters, inseparable, so they claimed, who had married a pair of brothers. As soon as their kinder were grown, they’d embarked on a business that had expanded so much it supplied most of the Amish families in the county with fabric, along with a fair share of Englisch sewers as well, mainly quilters.
Sam pulled the car into the shade of a massive oak tree. “You ladies take all the time you need. I know what the wife is like when she’s shopping for material. She must look at every single bolt two or three times before she decides. I brought my newspaper and a cold soda, and I’ll just relax.” He grinned, his heavy face lightening. “Maybe even take a nap.”
“Denke, Sam.” Now that they were here at last, Rebecca looked excited. “I hope we won’t be that long.”
Judith and Barbie followed Rebecca as she hurried to the front entrance. “I wouldn’t take bets on it,” Barbie murmured. “Once she starts looking, she’ll want to compare every bolt of fabric in the shop.”
“You wouldn’t take bets on anything,” Judith reminded her. “But it’s only natural, ain’t so? You’ll be just as bad when you’re planning your wedding dress.”
“What’s the point of looking at everything?” Barbie said. “Rebecca’s so traditional that she’ll pick blue, you know she will.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Judith’s dress had been blue, as well, a lovely deep blue that Isaac had said reminded him of the heart of a violet. “What would you pick?”
Barbie shrugged. “Pink, or purple, or even light green. But my mamm would have a fit.”
“So blue, then,” Judith said, trying to hide a smile. They stepped inside, to be confronted with a vast space completely filled with row after row of racks of fabric bolts. The colors shone in the light from the long windows the sisters had added when they’d renovated the barn.
Aside from the fabric, there were racks of sewing notions and a long cutting table. Nothing extraneous. The shop was as neat and organized as an Amish kitchen.
Bessie came forward to meet them as soon as they entered the shop, greeting them as if she hadn’t seen them in a year. “So gut to see you again.” She beamed, her round cheeks the color of ripe apples. “Ach, and for something special, so I guess.”
She gave Rebecca a look that said news of her wedding plans had percolated all the way over here, in the mysterious way everyone in the Amish community seemed to know everything.
Rebecca nodded, blushing a little. “How are you, Bessie? And your family?” She glanced around. “Isn’t Ada Mae with you?”
“Ach, she’s helping an Englisch lady match prints for a quilt. They’ve been at it a half hour already and nowhere near done yet. I’ll tell her you’re here. Now, what can we show you? Some solid blue cotton blends, ja?”
“That’s right,” Rebecca said, and Barbie gave an exaggerated sigh and raised her eyebrows at Judith. Judith ignored her as best she could as they trailed along behind Bessie to the proper aisle.
“Bessie and Ada Mae must do a lot of wedding dress business this time of year,” Judith said, once the three of them were alone in a long aisle with fabric on either side. There were rows of cotton blends and more shades of blue than she’d imagined possible.
“For sure.” Barbie reached up, her fingertips just touching the top rack. “This is like being in between two rows of field corn in August.”
“A little more colorful than corn, ain’t so?” Rebecca moved down the aisle, pulling out a bolt here or there that caught her fancy. “There will be so many weddings this year that you’ll probably end up going to a couple a day sometimes.”
It was often that way as their settlement had grown. With tradition dictating that weddings were usually on a Thursday after Fall Communion and before the weather turned, a lot of weddings were crammed into a short space of time. At least the harvesting and canning were finished before the wedding season started.
Rebecca pulled out a bolt of a deep blue-violet shade. “It’s a joy to celebrate the beginning of a new family. Marriage is . . .” She seemed to hesitate, as if searching for the words. “I guess it’s a sign that our community is continuing.”
“I hope it’s more than that,” Barbie said tartly. “If I get married, I want it to be a true love match.” She waved her hands extravagantly, as if to express the magnitude of her proposed emotion. “I want to find someone who is like the other half of me. Someone I can share everything with.”
Rebecca and Judith exchanged glances. “It can be that way,” Rebecca said cautiously. “But just remember a marriage is made up of two imperfect people.”
Judith nodded, caught off guard by a wave of emotion. Isaac had shown real understanding last night with Joseph, hadn’t he? And when they’d lain together in the wide bed, he’d stroked her hair gently, saying he was glad he’d made her happy by agreeing to let Joseph take his class. She’d felt protected and at peace in his arms.
“Judith?” Rebecca’s voice sounded as if she’d said the name several times. “Barbie has gotten bored and wandered off, but there was something I wanted to ask you in private anyway.”
“Of course.” She brought her attention back to the task at hand. “What is it?”
“After the wedding, we’ll have our family visits on weekends, and I’ve had a few reservations for the farm-stay then as well.”
Judith nodded. “If the weather is nice, you’ll get weekend visitors right into November, ja? Is it a problem?”
“Not really.” Rebecca fingered the weight of a fabric, drawing it out from the bolt. “Barbie has been working with me long enough to know how things are supposed to go, so she can take over, but . . .” Rebecca gave a rueful smile. “Well, you know Barbie. I hate to leave her on her own, so I thought maybe you’d be willing to help out for a few weekends.”
“Ja, of course. I’ll be glad to.” Surely Rebecca knew it without asking.
“Not for free,” Rebecca added hastily. “It’s only fair that you have part of my share for the work you do.”
“Ach, I don’t want—”
“This is business.” Rebecca sounded firm. “All I need to do is cover my expenses. I just don’t want to risk losing repeat visitors by closing too early in the season.”
Judith couldn’t deny that the extra money would come in handy. “We could use it,” she admitted. “Isaac is worried about the state of some of the dairy equipment. He says we should be saving for a new motor on the holding tank.”
“There, you see, it all works out—” Rebecca stopped as a bolt of fabric caught her eye. She pulled it from the rack and unwound a yard or so. The lovely deep blue flowed like water down her skirt when she held it against her. “This one,” she said, her tone positive. “I mean, if you and Barbie agree.”
Judith chuckled. “I don’t think we would dare disagree. It’s perfect.” She glanced around, but Barbie was nowhere in sight. “Drat the girl, where has she gone now?”
“I’ll look—” Rebecca began, but Judith shook her head.
“I’ll find her. You’d best take that up to the cutting table and make sure there’s enough for three dresses.” She hurried off before Rebecca could argue.
By walki
ng down the center aisle, she could look along the rows on both sides. She didn’t find her quarry until she peered out the front door. There was Barbie. Hands on her hips, she was looking up at a young Englischer on the back of a truck who was unloading boxes of fabric. Her head was tilted flirtatiously, and he was regarding her in obvious appreciation.
“Barbie!” The sharpness in her voice was well deserved, she decided. “Rebecca has found the piece she likes. Come and tell her you like it, too.” She spoke in dialect, so there was no danger of the Englischer understanding. “Stop flirting with that Englischer.”
Barbie, pouting prettily, waved good-bye and followed her back inside. “Relax, Judith. I wasn’t really flirting. I was just staying in practice, sort of.”
“Let’s keep our minds on why we’re here.” Somehow Judith didn’t think that working with Barbie at the farm-stay was going to be such an easy job. She’d probably earn every cent Rebecca paid her.
In a few minutes’ time they were all in agreement and stood at the counter with the fabric bolt. Bessie measured it out with a practiced hand, seeming to figure automatically the amount needed for three dresses. Well, why not? It was her livelihood, after all.
It took them a few more minutes to find the thread that matched perfectly, and then Barbie decided she ought to look for some material for another new dress for herself, but they were still finished before Judith had expected.
When they were walking to the car with their packages, Barbie turned to Judith. “By the way, you never told us what happened with Joseph. Did Isaac agree to let him take the class?”
“He did. Joseph is wonderful happy. He can’t wait for the class to start.”
“Gut.” Rebecca patted her hand. “You see? There was no reason for you to fret over it.”
She smiled in response, but her heart didn’t seem to cooperate. The truth was that even though Isaac knew about Joseph and the class, he didn’t know everything. He wasn’t aware that Joseph didn’t want the farm Isaac had worked so hard to build up for him.