“I was hoping you can help me with a project. It has to do with my old family recipes.”
“Oh, I don’t cook. I have a history of burning things. You should ask my mamm. Even she finally gave up on me.”
Rosalee chuckled. “That’s not what I need help with. I’ve been wanting to organize my collection for a while. I thought this would be a good time to do it, and Ella said you might be able to help.”
I nodded. I’d much rather sort through recipes than cook from them.
She asked me to retrieve her recipe box, which was in the cupboard closest to the door. I did as she asked, noting the smooth, aged wood and rounded corners of the box as I carried it to her.
“Except for baking, I’m not too keen on cooking either,” Rosalee confided. “But my mother was, and she and my father made this for me as a wedding gift. He built the box and she filled it with the family recipes.”
“How lovely.”
“The recipes are special and need to be preserved. The problem is that they have become so old and faded over years. My thinking is that we will copy them over onto fresh cards, recipe by recipe. I assume your handwriting is legible?”
“Um, yes. Of course.”
“Good.” She pulled blank cards from the back of the box and then asked me to get two pens from the desk in the living room.
When I returned and settled back down at the table, she handed me a stack of recipes and another stack of blank cards. It seemed simple enough. Settling comfortably in my chair, I got to work, starting with the first card on the pile, which was for chowchow, a cabbage relish.
Just like Verna, Rosalee soon began telling stories from the past as we worked, her memory jogged by the various recipes for familiar dishes from her childhood. She told me about her parents, how they had met in Michigan when her daed was visiting there, and then after they had married they moved into the Home Place.
“The home my mother grew up in was much smaller than this but crowded with lots of children. She mourned not being able to fill this place with kids.”
“Oh?” I wrote as I listened.
“And then she was heartbroken when I didn’t have any children either—nor remarry when my husband died.”
“Why didn’t you?” I looked up from the card.
“I never felt led to.”
“Ya, I can understand that feeling.”
Ella laughed, turning toward me as she dried the Dutch oven. “Izzy, you’re all of eighteen.”
“Nineteen.” I smiled at Ella. “But I’ve never been boy crazy like you were.”
Mortified, I clamped a hand over my mouth as soon as the words flew out. Thankfully, Ella just laughed. She didn’t seem offended at all.
“Still,” she said, “how could you not want a husband and children? Rosalee, you wanted that, right?”
“Sure,” the older woman answered. “When I was young. But later I grew to accept that wasn’t what God intended for me.”
“See, Izzy?” Ella said. “You’ll change your tune soon enough. Once you meet the right man…”
Her voice trailed off as she put the Dutch oven away, and I was glad her back was to me, because I could feel heat rise in my cheeks. Little did she know, I had met the right man—and he was her little brother!
“But you’ve had a good life, haven’t you?” I asked Rosalee.
“I’ve been content, ya. But I’m not embarrassed to admit I’ve also been lonely. And isolated, even as I’ve lived in the middle of a close community.” She pulled out another recipe.
I thought about that. If Zed and I didn’t end up marrying, and if God’s plan for me was to be single for life instead, at least I would never be isolated and lonely. I’d live with Mamm and Daed as long as I could. Then maybe whichever brother took over the farm would let me continue to live there, as Verna had done. As much as my siblings exhausted me, at least I had them.
“The truth is that I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been since Ella moved in with me. Having her and Luke marry has been a double blessing, and then to have a baby soon in this old house, that’s a triple blessing for sure. I’m amazed at God’s goodness.” Rosalee looked at me, her eyes bright. “Do you know how long it’s been since a baby has been in this house?”
I shook my head.
“Sixty-two years. Since I was a baby.” She poked at her chest with her index finger. “That’s a long time.”
I smiled, but the truth was, I’d never been crazy about infants. I’d thought Stephen and Thomas were both sweet—although not cute—when they were born, but I wasn’t overjoyed with taking care of them the way Sadie and Becky and Tabitha and even Linda were. Thankfully, I’d be gone before Ella had her baby.
I continued to help Rosalee with the recipes, copying ten of them before she became too tired to continue. Ella had joined us at the table, working with a calculator and doing accounts.
“I’ll show you the nighttime routine,” she said, closing the book.
I swung Rosalee’s wheelchair away from the table.
“You can push me down the hall,” she said. “It’s still a little hard for me to manage without bumping into the wall.” We followed Ella.
Luke had already installed grab bars near the toilet and in the shower. The training I’d done in Lancaster had prepared me for taking care of Rosalee, including transferring her from the chair and helping her dress and undress. I hoped she had some handwork to do too, so I could focus on mine instead of copying recipes the whole time. I’d rather spend my days embroidering. Either way, I had enjoyed listening to Rosalee’s stories, even if they didn’t take place in Lancaster County and had nothing to do with my own ancestors or the period in history relevant to Zed’s film.
An icy rain fell my second morning at the Home Place, but Luke was nearly finished making the ramp, so he continued to press on regardless. An hour or so after breakfast he was done, and when the rain finally stopped soon after that, he sprinkled salt over the slick boards and then told me to wheel Rosalee on out and give it a try. It was bitterly cold, so I bundled her up, put on my own cape and gloves, and carefully maneuvered her chair through the narrow doorway and into the mudroom. Then I turned it around and pulled it backward to get over the threshold of the back door and onto the ramp. Ella and Luke stood at the bottom, both smiling. Rosalee, grinning in return, clearly adored both of them.
As I took the first switchback along the ramp, Luke said to Rosalee, “In no time you’ll be coming down this in the walker.”
She nodded. “But right now I’m enjoying my ride.”
Just as I reached the second switchback, a car started up the lane. I glanced up, squinting to see through the trees.
The car was red.
It was too far away to see if it was Zed’s, but still my heart raced in anticipation. Could it possibly be him?
“Customer,” Rosalee called out, but Ella seemed in no hurry to get over to the bakery. She wanted to see Rosalee safely down to the bottom of this ramp first. Swallowing hard, I tried to focus on my charge as we continued our slow roll downward.
But from the corner of my eye, I saw that the car didn’t turn in by the bakery. It continued up the driveway instead. I chanced another quick look at the car, which was closer now, and felt a warm rush at the sight of its familiar dents and pings. It was, indeed, Zed’s little old red Saab.
I wanted to call out, jump up and down, or cry with joy.
He’d come as soon as he possibly could! Perhaps he’d even skipped class to do so! That’s what I felt inside, but on the outside I didn’t dare give away the depth of my excitement to the others, especially Ella, who was no dummy and might put two and two together about my true feelings for her brother. Instead, as the car continued forward and then finally rolled to a stop, I focused on getting Rosalee safely down the ramp.
We made it, and then Ella turned back toward the car. “Oh, goodness. What’s he doing here at this hour of the day?”
Luke turned around too, and we all�
�our little group at the end of the ramp—watched Zed turn off the car and climb out.
His eyes landed on me and a grin spread across his face. I couldn’t help but smile in return.
“Hey, little brother,” Ella called out to him. “Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”
“I’m always in class. If I miss this once, I’ll be okay.”
“Why are you here?”
He shrugged, pocketing the keys and moving toward us. “I called Mom this morning. She said Rosalee had an accident—” His eyes landed on the older woman, and he spoke with genuine concern in his voice. “So sorry to hear that,” he told her, bending forward to get a better look. “You have some serious stuff going on here with all of this.” He gestured toward the cast and the wheelchair, where it held the leg aloft. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine now. It wasn’t too fun at first, but the cast keeps it from being very painful anymore.”
“That’s good.” He patted her on the arm and then stood straight again and looked me. We shared a broad smile.
“Mom said you arrived yesterday,” he uttered, and it came out almost in a whisper. Then he turned to Ella. “Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You were studying for that big test—”
“It was yesterday afternoon. I could have come over last night.”
“Well, you’re here now, though you really shouldn’t be.”
He just laughed. “College is different than high school, Ella. Skipping class is no big deal as long as you don’t do it too often.”
We were all quiet for a moment, and then Rosalee turned to Luke and asked if he could push her back up the ramp. “It’s getting a little chilly out here.”
I felt my face flush. Shame on me. Of course she was getting chilled. “I’ll do it,” I said, again gripping the handles and tilting the chair back to pivot it around.
“No, no, no,” Rosalee insisted. “Let Luke.”
I glanced down at her, mortified. Was she afraid I wasn’t strong enough to get the chair back up myself? I knew I was petite, but this was my job. I was up to it. I could handle all of Rosalee’s needs just fine.
“This ramp is perfect,” I said, trying not to sound hurt. “With all of these switchbacks, it’s not too steep for me, not at all.”
To my relief, she tilted her head back and gave me a smile. “It’s not that,” she said. “I know you can do it. I just want to give him the opportunity to enjoy this fine structure he built.”
I wasn’t quite sure if I bought what she was saying or not until she added, “Besides, you’re bundled up well, and you could use some more fresh air. I thought you and Zed might enjoy taking a walk.”
Smiling, I moved back from the chair and Luke took my place as Rosalee looked to Ella.
“Don’t you agree these two youngie should go for a walk?” she prodded.
Ella turned to Zed and then glanced pointedly at her watch. “Sure, as long as they keep an eye on the time. Zed, you shouldn’t skip all of your classes today.”
“Not to worry,” he replied easily, brushing his too-long bangs from his eyes. “My next one isn’t for a few more hours.
With that, Luke began pushing Rosalee back up the ramp, and Ella gestured toward the bakery. “I’ll be working,” she told Zed. “Stop by before you go.”
“Only if there’s a sticky bun in it for me.”
“How about a smack on the arm if you don’t?”
“That works too.”
Waving us off, she turned to head down the path.
Which left Zed and me standing there alone. How lovely it was to see his handsome face! I drank it in, relishing in the sight. Above us, Luke was already at the final switchback, and I could hear Rosalee talking about what a fine job he’d done and how handy this ramp would be even after she was better and back on her feet.
“Well, Izzy Bear?” Smiling, Zed thrust his hands in his pockets. “Wanna take a walk?”
I nodded. Usually I hated being out in the cold—but not today. Today, I wanted nothing more than time with Zed, alone. Goodness, I had missed him so badly.
“Ella’s right, though,” he added, “I only have a little while and then I need to get back to school. Let’s stroll over to the pond. We can loop around and hit the bakery, and then I’ll head out.”
He asked me how my family was and I filled him in on Daed’s table making. That reminded him of the sets he’d helped build for the fall play, and he began telling me about the production. I half listened, mostly just thinking how happy I was to hear his voice. How happy I was to be with him. How happy I was I’d come to Indiana after all.
When we’d circled around to the orchard, he stepped off the driveway onto the mulch that Luke had most likely spread between the rows of apple trees. I followed.
“I know losing Verna was hard for you.” Zed veered closer to me so that our shoulders brushed. A shiver zinged up my spine. “I’m so sorry.”
I nodded. I knew he was. He’d said so in his last letter. Still, just being close to him and knowing he understood how I felt, I couldn’t help but tear up. He put his arm around me and pulled me close but didn’t say anything. That was one of the things I loved most about him. My emotions didn’t scare him.
We came to a stop in the middle of the orchard and once I started talking, I couldn’t stop, pouring out my heart about Verna’s passing, her service, and Mamm’s frustration with me.
“Oh, Izzy.” Zed pulled me closer and I put my head on his shoulder, wishing I could spend the rest of the day with him in the orchard, but he had class. Besides, I was cold and I was sure he was too.
“You need to go. We’d better head to the bakery.”
He nodded.
As we walked back toward the driveway, I exhaled, determined to leave my sorrow among the scraggly branches of the apple trees. “So, how are your classes going?”
“Great. Especially my film class. I aced my test yesterday. And I’m pretty sure I’m going to be able to go to the coast spring term.”
“The coast?
“Yeah, L.A. Remember? We talked about this the night I had supper with your family before heading off to college.”
“Oh, right.”
“I’ll be able to visit majors and mini majors while I’m there.”
I had no idea what he meant, but it sounded like more movie talk to me.
“And I’ll get some hands-on experience, more than what I can possibly get in either Pennsylvania or at Goshen.”
I was relieved when we reached the bakery. He stopped talking and opened the door for me. Inside, an English woman was waiting at the counter as Ella filled her order. The only other customer was a man in a tweed suit, sitting at one of the tables and eating a sticky bun.
We got in line behind the woman, and then Zed surprised me by tapping her on the shoulder. She turned and a broad smile broke out on her face.
“Zed, how nice to see you!”
“Hello, Penny,” he said, and then he gestured at me. “This is Izzy Mueller from back home.”
“She’s here to care for Rosalee,” Ella added as she tied string around a pie box.
“Nice to meet you,” the woman said, shaking my hand. She seemed to be around my daed’s age. She was short and a little plump, with dark hair that looked as if it were dyed. She wore a long down coat and jeans.
Ella moved to the front counter and set down the box. “I lived with Penny when I first moved out here to Nappanee.”
“Ella’s like my daughter,” she said with a smile. “So if you’re a friend of hers—and Zed’s—you’re a friend of mine. Let me know if you need anything, especially a ride somewhere. I specialize in those.”
I couldn’t imagine I would, but I thought it incredibly kind of her to offer and I thanked her. With a smile, Penny grabbed the box and then told all of us goodbye.
As the door fell shut behind her, Zed asked Ella if we could have som
e coffee to warm us up.
“Sure, and how about some sticky buns too? I have more than enough today.”
“Hmm.” Zed held out both hands, palms upward, and raised and lowered them as if he were weighing his options. “Sticky buns or a smack in the arm? So hard to choose.”
Ella responded by making a fist and punching him right in the bicep. “There, now you can have both.” She gave me a wink as she walked away and began to gather our orders.
Once we were served, Zed and I took our mugs and plates to a corner table and sat. I dug into the delicious confection while he gave me a rundown of all the movies he’d seen in his film criticism class thus far. Of course, I hadn’t heard of any of them.
“Sounds like you’re becoming quite the film buff,” I said, pleased that I’d remembered the term.
His eyes narrowed, almost as if he were scoffing at me. “Uh, I prefer cineast.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised at his tone. My face flushed, but he didn’t seem to notice. I wrapped my hands around my mug, as if I might be able to draw some comfort from it.
The English man finished his food, dumped his trash, and walked out, leaving Zed and me alone in the seating area.
Zed continued talking, rattling off several more titles, not from his class, but films he’d seen on his own. He pulled his phone from his coat pocket as he spoke, checked the time, and stopped in midsentence. “I have to go,” he said, pushing back his chair. “I didn’t realize how late it was. I can’t miss my next class.” He reached for his plate.
“I’ll clear the table,” I said.
“Thanks.” He stood and turned toward the counter, calling out to Ella, who was filling the case with pastries. “Thanks, sis. Maybe I’ll see you this weekend.”
Maybe?
“Okay. Drive carefully,” she called back.
He said a quick goodbye to me and dashed out the door. I sat for a moment, in shock, both at his abrupt departure and at how he’d acted. Sure, he had been his usual sweet self when he’d been listening to me, but what had come over him when he was talking about his classes? That person bragging about what he was learning and his plans for spring term wasn’t the person I knew and loved.
The Amish Seamstress Page 13