The Amish Seamstress

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “That was fast,” I said, wondering if I had taken longer in Rosalee’s room than I realized.

  “Yeah, I ran into Tom’s mother and little sister halfway there. They were coming to the bakery to see if Ella was getting many customers with all the snow and ice. Little Annie was pretty disappointed when I told them it was closed.”

  “She loves that bakery.”

  “She loves Ella’s sticky buns. Then again, so do I.”

  We shared a smile.

  “So how’s Tom?”

  “He’s fine. His mom said when they left he was wearing his warmest pajamas, wrapped in a couple of blankets, and sitting by the fire sipping hot cocoa.”

  I tried not to laugh as I pictured it. Poor Tom. He would probably be even more embarrassed if he knew his mother was passing on information like that.

  I pulled out the runner I had been embroidering and repositioned the hoop. I wanted to fuss at Zed for his behavior today on the ice with that stupid hockey game, but I didn’t have the heart considering that he’d practically saved Tom’s life afterward. I decided it was a draw and let it go.

  He unzipped his backpack and started unloading books and papers onto the table. He held up one of them for me to see, and I read the title, The French and Indian Wars.

  “Is that for a class?”

  “Nah, I found it in the library. There’s a page in here about the Conestoga Indian Massacre.” He opened the book and flipped through the pages. “And a painting that shows them advancing on the Workhouse in Lancaster.”

  “Oh, goodness,” I said, setting aside my handwork and taking the book from him to get a better look. “I thought the massacre happened at Indian Town.”

  “It did. I’m talking about part two of the massacre, remember? They killed everyone in Indian Town, but then they learned there were other Conestoga being hidden at the Lancaster Workhouse, so they went there a few days later and killed all of them too.”

  “Oh, right,” I said, studying the painting. In it, the Paxton Boys wore black hats and long coats. Some were shown wearing long pants, but a few had on knickers. They were surrounded by the buildings of downtown Lancaster, and in the second story window of one of those buildings were three Indian men, shirtless and all wearing feathers in their braided hair.

  “Do you have a pencil?” I asked Zed. “And some paper?”

  He rummaged in his backpack and produced both for me. The paper was a little raggedy but unlined. I began sketching costumes for the Paxton Boys first because those were the most obvious in the painting.

  After a few minutes I held up what I had for Zed.

  “That’s great!”

  “Any idea yet how many Paxton Boys you’re going to put in the film? I mean, I know you can’t do two hundred and fifty.”

  He chuckled. “Camera tricks, my dear. If you know what you’re doing, you can make ten people look like a hundred.”

  “Do you think it’s going to be hard to come up with a cast?”

  “Are you kidding? There are a ton of aspiring actors and actresses on campus. So many would love a spot in a movie that I’ll probably end up holding auditions to narrow it down.”

  I thought about that, and I wondered if perhaps I had bitten off more than I could chew. I totally wanted to do the costumes. It was just that I might need to start sooner than expected or else bring in someone to help me.

  “Where will we find the hats for everyone?” I asked.

  “We probably can buy some of them online.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Putting down the pencil, I asked, “Now that you say it, couldn’t you find all of the costumes that way?”

  He shook his head. “Not believable ones. I want this to be as historically accurate as possible. As does Ms. Wabbim, I feel sure.”

  Smiling, I picked up the pencil and started again with a fresh piece of paper. I wasn’t having any trouble envisioning the settlers, but the costumes for the Indians were going to be a different matter. From what I’d read so far, the Conestoga Indians had adopted many of the settlers’ ways, including their dress. That’s why, as my eyes returned to the picture in the book, I just knew the men would not have been bare chested like this—especially in December—much less with feathers in their hair. I had to wonder if this particular artist had taken a lot of poetic license.

  I asked Zed what he thought, and he agreed. He suggested the Indians probably wore shirts, though they may have been made of buckskin. I guessed the women would have worn buckskin dresses or perhaps ones made of cotton, as Abigail’s description of Konenquas indicated, or muslin or wool. I wondered where I could research this further—using something more accurate than this one artist’s rendition. I wasn’t sure, so for now, I just scribbled a note on the corner of one of my sketches, reminding myself to follow up.

  I continued drawing as Zed lost himself in the book. Every once in a while he shared something he read, including several paragraphs about the extreme environment of fear the Indian Wars had caused among the settlers. “They had been murdered in their sleep or while working in their fields. Of course, the Conestoga weren’t involved in any of that, but people like the Paxton Boys couldn’t seem to differentiate between the separate Indian groups.”

  “Hadn’t those who were murdered settled illegally on land set aside for the Indians?” I was sure I’d read that. Not that it justified the killings, but the Indians had had reason to feel threatened before striking back.

  Zed nodded. “It’s a really complicated story to tell. Good and bad on both sides.”

  “Doesn’t complicated make it even more interesting? If you can condense it down to the essential elements, I mean.”

  He started to respond but broke into a smile instead.

  “What?” I asked as I took in the sight of his dancing eyes.

  “Nothing.” He looked away and brushed his bangs from his forehead. “I was just thinking, for someone who never goes to the movies, you sure do have good instincts.”

  I ducked my head shyly and then couldn’t help but look back up at him again.

  “Hey,” I said softly, “I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

  Our eyes held for a long moment, way longer than usual. Finally, he broke our gaze, returning his attention to the book in front of him.

  Feeling happy somewhere deep inside, I went back to my sketching, though it was all I could do not to doodle out the words, I LOVE YOU, ZED BAYER! in flowery script surrounded by hearts.

  For the next two hours, I made sketches and then lists of what I would need as he continued with his reading. Of course, until I had a cast list, I wouldn’t have an exact idea of my fabric needs and other notions, such as thread and trimmings. I knew I would need muslin, cotton, and wool for sure. And buckskin, if Zed was right. I didn’t know what that would be like to sew, but I was willing to give it a try. Fortunately, my machine at home could accommodate heavy-duty needles if I put it on the right setting.

  Once I heard the ring of Rosalee’s bedside bell and knew she had woken from her nap, I put down the pencil, aware that I’d never had such an enjoyable afternoon. Zed glanced up at me as I stood. I smiled at him and he grinned in return.

  “This has been a lot of fun,” he said, but then he blushed. “Does that sound silly? I mean, we’ve just been sitting here…”

  “No. I know exactly what you mean. I was thinking that too.”

  In fact, I thought as I went to help Rosalee, I wished that every day could be like this. Getting snowed in together had made this weekend even cozier, because until the lane outside got plowed, nobody was going anywhere.

  A few hours later, to my great disappointment, we were just finishing up dinner when we finally heard the sound of the snowplow scraping its way up the lane.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Ella said as she stood to clear the table. “It’s about time.”

  I stood too, grabbing the nearly empty bowl of mashed potatoes and the gravy boat. I was happy for her sake, but otherwise I didn’t
share her enthusiasm with being connected to the outside world again. A cleared lane meant Zed would be able to leave.

  And the last thing I ever wanted Zed to do was leave.

  FOURTEEN

  At least Zed came back the very next weekend. He didn’t arrive until late Saturday afternoon, and he said he wouldn’t be spending the night, but I was determined to make the most of the time we did have. First, he and I took a nice long walk through the woods to the road, where we watched the sunset over the still snowy fields. Then we came back and ate a delicious dinner of shepherd’s pie, creamed corn, and sour milk biscuits with the rest of the family. Finally, once the table was cleared and the dishes done, I checked in with Rosalee, who had wheeled her chair near the fireplace, and asked if she needed anything.

  “Nope, and after the long nap I had this afternoon, I won’t be ready for bed anytime soon. Why don’t you get a board game out to enjoy with the others?” She pointed to a cupboard along the far wall of the living room.

  I chose Scrabble, a set that looked as if it had been around for several decades, and headed back into the kitchen. “Want to play?” I asked Zed, holding up the box and giving it a shake.

  He glanced at his backpack and then said, “Oh, why not? I can do homework anytime.”

  I turned toward the sink, where Ella was rinsing out the dishcloth. “Ella?” I asked. “You guys want to join in?”

  “I will, but Luke’s busy fixing that busted pipe on the trough.”

  Ella, Zed, and I sat at the table and focused on setting up the game. We launched right in and were soon neck and neck on the scoresheet. As we played, I thought of how glad I was that Ella had changed so much in the past few years and that I’d had this chance to get to know her better. I could easily imagine her as my sister-in-law, just as I could easily imagine my life with Zed, the two of us side by side in front of a fire, him reading or on his computer, me doing handwork, sharing an occasional comment or idea between us. Or perhaps a kiss. I sighed, overcome with joy. We were so compatible as a couple.

  Why couldn’t he see that?

  “Izzy?”

  Both Zed and Ella smiled at me. “Your turn,” he said.

  “Oh, sorry,” I replied as my face flushed with heat.

  I turned my attention to the game, my eyes going from the board to my tiles and back again. Then I nearly squealed in delight as I spotted a way to maximize my points. Grabbing all but one of my tiles, I spelled out the word BLAZER, stretching it from a triple letter score under the B to a double word score under the E.

  Zed groaned as Ella said, “Well, if I can’t win, I’m rooting for her.”

  Ella and I totaled up my score together, but the sound of our voices didn’t drown out a faint buzz coming from Zed’s pocket. He glanced at Ella, looking properly embarrassed for having a cell in her Amish kitchen. He pulled out the phone and looked at the screen.

  “Forty-six points! Take that!” I crowed—just as he pushed the button and answered it.

  “Hello?”

  Ignoring him, Ella hooted and gave me a high five. I grabbed the pencil and paper from Zed’s place to write down my total.

  He stepped away from the table toward the hall, putting a finger in his free ear as he said, “Sorry, that’s Ella and Izzy.” And then, “Oh, gosh, no. Izzy’s just a friend. I’ve told you about her before. Remember? My old buddy from back home?”

  I froze, the pencil still in my hand. Again I could feel heat flushing my face. At least I was saved from having to meet Ella’s eyes when the back door suddenly swung open and Luke stepped inside, his coat and work boots on.

  “I need some help,” he said. “Where’s Zed?”

  “On the phone,” Ella answered. “Can I do it?”

  “Ya. I just need someone to hold the pipe while I screw on the gasket.”

  “Be right back,” she said to me.

  I stared at the board as Zed’s words went through my head.

  Izzy’s just a friend. My old buddy from back home.

  The very thought made my stomach churn.

  As his phone conversation continued, I tried to hear what he was saying but could only pick up a few words here and there.

  “No way…so much better than I do…seriously?…of course…what time?…nothing important…if you want…I can be there in…”

  His voice faded back out, so I wasn’t sure, but it sounded to me as if he was making plans to head out of here and meet up with someone else. Feeling nauseated, I stood and went to the living room, away from Zed entirely, deciding to check on Rosalee.

  The afghan, yarn, and her hook were all in her lap, but she was staring into the fire.

  “Are you doing all right?” I asked.

  She assured me she was.

  “I think I’ll go out and see if I can help Luke and Ella then.”

  She nodded.

  It was entirely an excuse, but I needed to do something to clear my head—not to mention get as far away from Zed Bayer at that moment as possible. I hurried to the mudroom, slipped on my boots, and grabbed my cape, swinging it over my shoulders and then fastening it. After pulling my black bonnet and gloves from the shelf, I stepped out into the snowy night.

  I guessed Ella and Luke were at the trough, so I headed that way, determined to be useful, but before I reached the barn, Tom stepped out of the woods, startling me. In the eerie light of the winter landscape, he called out, “Izzy, is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  He increased his steps to a jog as he came toward me. “I was just coming to see if you wanted to go for a stroll.”

  I turned and looked toward the house, knowing if I went with Tom now, Zed would be…what? Angry? Irritated? Hurt?

  Good.

  “Where to?” I asked a bit too forcefully as I turned back toward Tom.

  “Wherever,” he replied, and I tried to calm myself as we set out.

  We started off fast but then slowed it down as we detoured into the orchard, finally coming to a stop under the snow-covered branches, looking up at the few stars peeking from behind the clouds. Then we continued on down the driveway, past the bakery and toward the lane. We didn’t talk much as we went, and I was relieved to see that Tom didn’t try to take my hand or even stand too close to me as we walked.

  As we crossed the empty parking lot he paused, as though there was something he wanted to say. But my mind was still fuming over Zed, and I didn’t even realize he was talking to me until he said my name.

  “Izzy?”

  I shook my head, trying to focus. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I was just apologizing for my behavior last Saturday. At the pond. I acted like a jerk. I’m sure in all the excitement that you just forgot about the whistle. I had no call to bite your head off.”

  His apology had taken me by surprise. I wouldn’t have guessed he had it in him, but I thanked him just the same and told him not to worry about it. “I’m glad everything turned out okay.”

  “You and me both,” he replied with an easy laugh, and then we began walking again.

  The packed snow along each side of the lane was still nearly four feet high where the plow had pushed it, and it formed a dim sort of tunnel down the center. If I’d come here with Zed, before the phone call, I would have thought it terribly private and romantic. Now it was just a reminder of the wide gap between us, the utter cluelessness of the man in the house on the phone, the man making plans to go see someone else instead of continuing to hang out here with his “old buddy” Izzy.

  Unbelievable.

  Ahead and off to the side was an especially large mound of snow. Tom stepped up to the bank there and began scooping his hand into it. Behind us, I could hear the sound of a car inching up the lane.

  I knew before I turned to look that it would be Zed. Sure enough, I watched and waited as his twin headlights came closer, illuminating us there in the night. When it reached us, the old Saab came to a stop, and then Zed rolled down the window and leaned slightly out. “There
you are. What gives, Izzy? I was looking for you to say goodbye.”

  I didn’t answer.

  The defrost fan in his car was at full speed. He leaned out further. “I’m really sorry, but I need to get back sooner than I’d expected.”

  “You…need…to get back?” I managed to say.

  Even though he had the decency to blush, all I could do was stare at him, the panic and anger that had been building for the past fifteen minutes bubbling up toward the surface. Beyond that, had he not even noticed that I was out here in the dark with Tom?

  Or had he noticed and just didn’t care?

  “It’s a long story,” Zed said.

  I was trying to think of a good reply, something along the lines of him being the master of storytelling, when suddenly I felt a tug at my neck and something icy cold strike my back and then slide down along my bare skin.

  Tom burst into laughter even as I arched, jumping around and squealing as I tried to get at it. Somehow, he had managed to pull the collar of my cape and dress back far enough to drop in a snowball. After blazing an icy path down my spine, it settled at my waist, and I tried my best to dislodge it, swatting at my lower back with one hand, pulling my dress away from my legs with the other.

  I pranced and swatted until finally I got most of the snow out of my dress and onto to the ground. Finally, I spun back around toward the car—just in time to see Zed speeding off, his window rolled up tight.

  “I think someone’s jealous,” Tom said, stepping closer as we both watched Zed’s red taillights bump down the lane.

  Though I knew I shouldn’t feel that way, a part of me could only hope he was right. If Zed was jealous, then surely that meant he thought of me as more than just a friend.

  I glanced at Tom, my eyes narrowing at the glee on his face. He was no better. After all, I felt sure he’d put the snowball in there in the first place specifically to make Zed jealous.

  But instead of revealing how annoyed I was, I sweetly said, “I need to get back.”

  Tom’s voice gave away his disappointment. “So soon?”

  “Rosalee’s alone now that Zed left.” I took off at a march, and Tom hurried to keep up with me.