by Sarah Price
It took what seemed like a very long time to finally come, and when he eventually spoke, she realized that she had been holding her breath.
“I think I understand the situation much better now,” Gideon said, a thoughtful tone in his voice. He leveled his gaze at her and, without any expression on his face, stated his thoughts. “You are prejudiced against Jane.”
While the brevity of his lecture surprised her, his words caught her completely off guard. Such an accusation was on the verge of insulting, for it made her look as if she thought herself superior to another human being. “Pre-ju-diced?” The word, each syllable of which she made a point to emphasize, seemed to echo in her ears. “Why, I highly doubt that I am prejudiced against anyone!”
He gave her a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow, but remained silent.
“If it were true, and it is not, I can assure you,” she stammered, trying to find the words to defend herself. “Then I imagine I am prejudiced against Jane just as you are prejudiced in her favor! Likewise, you are prejudiced against Francis while I am partial to him.”
“I think there is more to this than your simple summation,” he replied softly. “While I have questions about Francis’s work ethic, that is for certain, your disdain for Jane is deeper. Perhaps it stems from something that you are not used to: losing regard within the community, for she seems to steal much of the attention that would otherwise be directed toward you. In addition, you favor Francis for the exact opposite reason.”
Jumping to her feet, Emma put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Now you are accusing me of pride! You insult me!”
“Nee,” Gideon said, rising to stand before her. Since he was taller than she, he stared down into her face, his eyes shifting back and forth in short little bursts as he studied. “Nee,” he repeated. “I do not insult you for I speak the truth. However, Emma, you have given me something to ponder, something I had not expected to consider before now.”
Frustrated, she crossed her arms over her chest and continued scowling. Whatever was he talking about? “You speak in riddles!”
Despite the tension in the air between them, Gideon wore a calm, if not almost peaceful expression on his face. It contradicted how Emma felt, for the visit had been most pleasant until this moment. “Time will tell, I reckon,” he said thoughtfully.
At this, Emma took a deep breath. She wanted him to leave the house. Her head was beginning to hurt, a painful throbbing at her temples indicating that her fatigue was giving way to a possible migraine. It was time for Gideon to go. “I’m afraid I feel a headache coming on,” she said and glanced at the clock. “I’d like to lie down for a while, before Daed returns.”
Always the gentleman, Gideon nodded his head and quickly retrieved his hat from where he had hung it on the hook by the door. He delayed his exit by a few, drawn-out seconds as he fingered the brim of his black felt hat. He looked up and stared at her one last time. “I do hope that you feel better, Emma Weaver,” he said. “And I think we shall continue this conversation at a later time. There is much more to be said on the matter, I assure you.”
Without another word he placed the hat upon his head and hurried through the door, a faint smile on his face, leaving Emma perplexed. She could hear his boots on the porch as he walked across it and descended the steps. A few minutes later, the sound of his horse’s hooves and the metallic hum of his buggy wheels filled the air. She listened until she could no longer hear them before she uncrossed her arms and retreated to the sanctuary of her room, hoping that a long nap would help her forget Gideon’s words and replace the bouts of ill humor she felt as of late with her typical cheerfulness and joy.
Somehow, however, she knew that it would take a lot more than a short nap for that to happen.
Chapter Fourteen
ON TUESDAY AFTERNOON the Weavers received an invitation to attend a welcome dinner planned for Paul and his new wife on Thursday afternoon. It was written on lavender stationery and delivered by Paul’s younger bruder, who stayed only long enough to receive the Weavers’ response. Apparently the newly married couple was scheduled to arrive in Lititz on Wednesday, and the Esh family wanted a proper gathering the following day in order to introduce Alice, Paul’s wife, to the community.
Henry Weaver was quick to respond in favor of joining the celebration and even went so far as to turn to his dochder, inquiring whether she might have time to make some schnitzel pies for the guests.
While Emma didn’t feel like facing Paul, she knew that refusing to attend would cause more questions and raised eyebrows than was worth the trouble, especially if her daed suspected that Paul had asked to court her. With a forced smile on her face, Emma replied that she would happily make schnitzel pies to bring along for Paul, his bride, and their many guests. Her response was met with enthusiasm by the bruder and a look of approval from her daed.
By the time Thursday came around, Emma was mentally prepared to put on a brave face and greet Paul’s fraa. The five previous days had given her enough time to get accustomed to the news. Despite her inability to make any sense of his rash decision to engage in a whirlwind courtship with what amounted to no more than a complete stranger, letters or no letters, Emma remained determined to wear a smile as her armor and to use laughter as her shield. A positive attitude, she reasoned, would improve any situation.
What Emma had not, however, expected was to take such an immediate dislike for the woman who had so conveniently filled the role that Paul had originally planned for her!
Alice Esh was a larger woman, not necessarily overweight but definitely big boned. Her hair was already graying, which gave her the appearance of being older than Paul, despite the fact that they were rumored to be the same age. While her face was certainly pleasant enough, it was easy to see that she would have to avoid gaining any weight for it to remain so. Unlike Hannah, she immediately made known her preference for the plain, cuplike Ohio prayer kapp and vowed that she would not change to the heart-shaped style worn in Lancaster. Her voice carried in the room so that when she made this statement, several older women clucked their tongues and raised their eyebrows.
Without doubt, the Amish grapevine would have a comment or two about such a remark by Alice Esh!
Upon meeting her, Emma smiled and welcomed the newcomer to Lititz only to be informed by Alice that the town was so akin to the Dutch Valley that she felt the similarities outweighed the differences. And from that point forward Emma never got in another word. Alice was not necessarily a well-spoken woman, but speaking was one thing she apparently did well and for a long time. Once captured by Alice Esh, Emma had a hard time escaping her attention and discourse.
Paul stood among the men, rarely lifting his eyes to seek out his new bride. Emma noticed that fact right away and wondered whether or not Alice was as talkative with her husband as she was with the women in the room. Without doubt, Emma began to wonder at the attraction between Paul and Alice, for she was as different from her as night was to day. She also pondered the irony that Hannah would have been a far better match for Paul than this loud, boisterous, and overly conversant woman from Ohio! She was curious as to how such a match had possibly occurred. But her curiosity was soon to be satisfied.
“It was my onkel who introduced us,” Alice said in her raucous voice to the sm
all gathering of young women who circled her. “He’s a bishop, you know, in one of the largest g’mays in the Dutch Valley.” The way she drew out the word largest hinted at pride, and Emma fought the urge to make a comment. Not that it would have mattered, she realized, for Alice Esh went on talking, apparently more interested in hearing herself speak than in engaging in an actual conversation with her unfortunate captive audience.
Emma quickly lost interest in the conversation, but she knew she could not leave the circle of young women around the guest of honor without appearing rude or, even worse, like a disgruntled jilted woman. After all, she had no idea who else, besides her daed and Anna, might have suspected Paul’s interest in her.
Instead, while Alice prattled on about her onkel, Bishop Kaufman, Emma pondered this new bit of information. Was it possible that Paul had sought out Alice Hetzler to not only repair his self-esteem but to also build up his standing within the community? With his daed heading up their g’may and Alice the niece of another bishop, was this a marriage of true emotion or merely convenience and social suitability? She highly doubted the former, which therefore gave her cause to suspect the latter.
It wasn’t until after the meal when the singing commenced that Emma managed to break free from what she had begun to think of as Alice’s audience. The older women were washing the dishes and Emma slipped outside to cool off. With over two hundred people in the haus, it had grown increasingly warm, and Emma needed a moment of quiet to think.
She hadn’t expected to encounter Francis standing on the porch. Clearly he had the same idea. He grinned when he saw her and invited her to join him. He was leaning against the railing, his eyes scanning the farm fields that surrounded the Esh’s haus. While the bishop did not farm, per se, his wife and three dochders ran a small garden center from spring to autumn, while his sons planted hay which often yielded three or even sometimes four cuttings per season. The older boys helped grow plants and flowers in their greenhouse, and the Esh women sold them at the garden center. It was enough to keep the family living modestly without taking up too much of the bishop’s time so that he could minister to his flock.
“Have you enjoyed yourself so far today, Emma?” Francis asked.
“I always enjoy meeting new people and engaging in good fellowship,” she responded, trying to be as diplomatic as possible without telling a lie.
He must have seen through her for he laughed. “Good fellowship, it seems to me, would require the participation of multiple people in a conversation and not just the ramblings of one.”
Emma was startled by his frankness and almost thought to say something. However, since she actually agreed with him and interpreted his candor to mean that there was a budding intimacy between them, one shared by friends, she kept her thoughts to herself. “I’m sure it’s overwhelming, given that you most likely don’t remember many of the people here.”
He gave a little grunt in agreement, nodding his head. “True, indeed! At least you have your friends nearby,” he added. “Hannah, Rachel, Jane . . . ”
“Jane?” Emma couldn’t help but interrupt him. “Why, I barely know Jane, I suppose. I’m not certain I would consider her a friend.” Then, to soften her words, she quickly added, “Yet, anyway.”
“There’s always time,” Francis observed.
“Ja vell.” Emma shrugged. “But she is to return to Ohio in . . . what . . . another week or two? What is the point, really?”
“She seems pleasant enough,” he offered. “Although I do find her complexion a bit weathered for my taste.” He laughed when he said this and Emma smiled at his comment, which clearly hinted that Jane came from a farming background. While there was nothing vulgar about a young woman working on a farm, for many Amish women did it, there definitely was a different level of sophistication among children who grew up on farms as opposed to those who lived and worked among the Englische.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Emma said, surprised at the urge to defend Jane. “She still seems refined and proper. Her manners are . . . ” She hesitated and looked for the appropriate word. “Respectable.”
Francis shrugged his shoulders. “Mayhaps I cannot separate her manners from her complexion.” He laughed again and Emma wasn’t certain whether or not he was teasing her.
“And how are you getting on working with Gideon King?” she asked, eager to change the subject. Her opinion of Francis was changing rather rapidly, for she had not appreciated his comments about Jane’s appearance. She hoped to divert his attention to a new topic to counter the negative feeling she began to feel from his rather unkind observation.
“Carpentry work is carpentry work,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and bored look upon his face. “And storage sheds are easy enough, I reckon. Not much creativity in it. In fact, it’s rather dull.” He leaned forward and brushed at something on her shoulder. When she looked down, she saw a piece of lint upon her dress. While his gesture smacked of familiarity, she appreciated the thoughtfulness behind it. “And how have you been, Emma Weaver? We didn’t have time to talk after last Sunday’s service, and I noticed you were absent from the youth singing that evening.”
Forgotten was his comment about Jane’s complexion. “I had such a long week,” she admitted. “Between helping my schwester Irene and her kinner, then tending to market, I needed to rest Sunday evening.”
“Your friend Hannah was there,” he mentioned.
Emma brightened at that news. It was a right gut sign that Hannah was fitting into the community and especially the youth group if she attended a singing without Emma. While they had not seen much of each other this week, Hannah had whispered to her earlier that very day that she had some exciting news to tell her. Based on what Francis had just informed her, she wondered if it had to do with someone asking to take her home after the singing.
“As it were, without you there, I felt obliged to offer both her and Jane a ride home.” This additional information caused her heart to swell at the insinuation that he would have rather offered her a ride home. But her stomach sank as she realized that Hannah’s exciting news did not involve a new beau on the horizon. At least not from the previous week’s singing, she assumed.
When the door opened and several young men emerged from the house, Emma was quick to excuse herself and return inside before her presence was missed. Once inside she searched the room, eager to find Hannah. To her surprise, Hannah was talking with Gideon and Samuel in the back of the kitchen, so as not to disturb those singing in the larger gathering room. Eager to find out Hannah’s news, Emma wasted no time to hurry over there.
“There she is!” Samuel called out jovially when Emma approached. “I had some of your schnitzel pie. Delicious as always.”
She bowed her head at his compliment. “No more so than any other, I presume.”
Gideon’s amused look at her attempt at humility did not go unnoticed, and her thoughts flickered back to the previous weekend when they had shared words. She chose to ignore him.
Turning her attention to Hannah, she gently laid her hand upon her friend’s arm. “I thought that I would see if you wanted to visit afterward at our house,” she asked. “When the gathering breaks up.”
To Emma’s surprise, Hannah glanced at Gideon then looked back at Emma. “I . . . I
. . . ” The way that she stammered over her response indicated that she wanted to accept Emma’s offer, but something, perhaps another commitment, was hindering her from being able to do so. Clearly whatever it was made her uncomfortable.
Gideon saved Hannah from having to answer. “I’ve already volunteered to take Hannah home afterward. Gladys left already, and there is a threat of rain.”
The proper recourse would have been to invite both of them to visit. However, Emma was still smarting from Gideon’s perceived injury to her ego the previous Sunday. With her chin tilted stoically in the air, Emma feigned disappointment. “What a shame,” she replied. “Perhaps over the weekend then? Mayhaps this off-Sunday?”
Hannah cast another furtive glance at Gideon.
“Am I missing something?” Emma asked, half in jest, half in annoyance. She felt like there was a secret among the group, one that she was not privy to, and that did not sit well with her.
“I meant to speak to you about this, but I haven’t had the chance,” Gideon said, addressing Emma directly. “If the weather holds up, we’ve planned a picnic at the Yoder’s pond this Sunday to get to know Alice Esh in a less formal setting.”
Emma could only imagine who was included in this “we” that had taken care to plan such an excursion without including her in the planning process. “I see,” she managed to say.
The stiffness of her reply seemed to amuse Gideon. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Don’t fret. You are invited, Emma,” he said in her ear, his breath warming her neck and causing her to blush; whether it was his close proximity to her or the fact that her reaction had been so transparent, she wasn’t certain.
Frowning, she leaned away from him and gave him a disapproving look, one that caused him to chuckle to himself as he returned to an upright position.