Jethro made a point to sit across from her, for sure and certain because he was too mad to sit next to her, but it didn’t matter. The table was small, and they seemed closer sitting face-to-face. They said silent grace and then Mary Anne used a fish-shaped pot holder to lift the lid of the Dutch oven and gave everyone a helping of lasagna.
Mammi took the lid off Jethro’s salad, and her smile wilted. Jethro’s salad was a pile of torn, slightly rusty lettuce and nothing else. “You didn’t go to the store, did you?” Mammi said, obviously trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
Jethro’s expression was hard, as if daring Mary Anne to make fun of him. “It’s exactly how I like my salad.”
Mary Anne had never made Jethro a salad like that, but she could almost believe he was telling the truth. It certainly was the cheapest salad anyone had ever made.
Mammi served everyone a helping of lettuce. “Jethro, while I’m here, I’m going to have to teach you how to cook.”
“I know how to cook,” Jethro said.
Mary Anne pressed her lips together. Jethro wasn’t about to concede an inch, even to Mammi.
Mammi didn’t believe him for one minute. “Stuff and nonsense. If this is your idea of a salad, you’re in big trouble.” She reached out and patted Jethro on the wrist. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, and I’m proud of you for trying your best. It’s always important that we try our best. Unfortunately, with the way you’re handling things so far, I can see you’re going to be living on your own for quite some time. I won’t have you starve because of sheer stubbornness.”
Jethro looked positively mulish. “I can eat at McDonald’s.”
Mammi was positively shocked. “McDonald’s? Ach, Jethro. You’ll get fat and burn yourself. Their kaffee is wonderful hot.”
Jethro set his cup on the table a little too forcefully. Water jumped out onto the tablecloth. “I don’t need cooking lessons. I want my wife back.”
Mary Anne lifted her chin. “I don’t want to come back.”
“The wife should submit to her husband. Her husband rules over her.”
Mary Anne knew those scriptures by heart. She just didn’t have a heart for them. A husband who tried to force cooperation from his wife by quoting scripture was not a godly man. She felt no obligation to obey him. “You can rule over me from a distance.”
“That’s not what marriage is.”
“Well, Jethro, what is marriage? Is it me waiting patiently at home while you go fishing? Is it me doing my best to be the perfect wife while you ignore me? To you, I’m an unused piece of furniture unless you want to be fed.”
“That is not true.”
“I’m less than a piece of furniture. Furniture doesn’t spend money.”
Mammi pasted an awkward smile on her face. “This salad isn’t half bad, Jethro.”
“Be honest, Jethro. You like your easy chair more than you like me. If you hired a maid, you wouldn’t even notice I was missing.”
“I’d notice my two hundred dollars was missing.”
It was a low blow, and she could see he regretted it as soon as he said it, but she wasn’t about to let him apologize or take it back. “Then why should you care if I move back into the house as long as you get your money? I’m sorry about how embarrassed you are, but of what use am I really? I can’t give you a child. It’s better if I’m not there to remind you.”
Jethro jumped to his feet, and the chair collapsed behind him. “Don’t throw that in my face. I never treated you differently because you couldn’t have a baby.”
“Didn’t you?”
Dawdi reached down and scooped himself another helping of lasagna. “This is the best you’ve ever made, Annie-Banannie.”
“Denki, Felty.”
Mary Anne got to her feet and locked her gaze with Jethro’s. “I could smell your disappointment every time you came into the house.”
“Of course I was disappointed,” he yelled. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “There. I said it out loud. I’m disappointed you can’t have a baby. That doesn’t make me a bad husband. We’re stuck with each other. Shouldn’t we make the best of it?”
And there it was—a moment of complete honesty. She’d known it for a very long time, but to have him come right out and say it stung like a slap in the face. Jethro felt stuck, trapped even. If he had married someone else, he’d have two or three little ones by now.
It was why she had moved out. She was tired of trying to make it up to him, tired of being the perfect, cheerful wife when she knew how much he resented her. She didn’t love him enough to keep trying, and she was through torturing herself. She wanted them both to be happy. Moving out was the only thing she could think of to do, despite her parents, Jethro, and the church.
Mary Anne sat down and twirled a piece of cheese around her fork. Everything was better with melted cheese. “You may be stuck, Jethro, but I’m not. I have a new quilt business, seven cheery mobiles hanging in my tent, and a potato chip that looks like the governor of Wisconsin. I have plans for my life.”
“Plans that don’t include me.”
“Jah.”
He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “All because I’m disappointed you can’t have a baby? Or because you think I’m boring?”
He’d been honest with her. She owed him the same. “Because I don’t love you anymore.”
For half a second, he was speechless. He just stared at her as if she’d taken out an ax and chopped off his arm. He finally snapped out of whatever shock he felt, picked up his salad bowl, lid, and dressing, and turned his back on all of them. “Denki for dinner, Anna,” he said, even though he hadn’t taken a bite. He trudged away from them without looking back. At least he had a salad he could eat if he got hungry.
Mammi strangled the napkin in her hands. “Oh dear, Felty. I think we made things worse.”
Mary Anne slid her arm around Mammi’s shoulders. “Nae, Mammi, it wasn’t your fault. Jethro’s mad at me, no one else.”
Dawdi was as cheerful as a fisherman with a whole can of worms. “I think we made progress, Banannie. All gute marriages need honesty and forgiveness. They’re halfway there.”
Mary Anne frowned. “You’re such dear people, but I don’t want you to believe for a minute that I’ll ever go back to Jethro. Please don’t try to match us a second time. I won’t go along with it. Ever.”
Mammi waved her napkin in front of her face. “Why would you think I want to get you back together? I’m here to show solidarity and nothing else.”
Mary Anne didn’t believe it, but she wasn’t going to argue when Mammi had been so supportive. It didn’t matter what Mammi and Dawdi tried. She and Jethro were through. She smiled reassuringly at Mammi. “I think he understands me now. For sure and certain he’ll see the wisdom in what I’ve said and give up.”
Dawdi winked at her. “Ach, Mary Anne. That boy may be mad as a bee with a boil, but he’ll never give up.”
“But now he knows I don’t love him.”
“Well, he loves you. And he’s a fisherman. He knows how to be persistent.”
Chapter Six
Mary Anne felt a little pinprick of guilt as she pulled the buggy up to Lily and Aden Helmuth’s house. She didn’t feel guilty about being at Lily’s, but she did feel guilty for taking Jethro’s buggy. She’d never felt guilty about it before, but now that she was living in a tent in the backyard, it was getting harder and harder to justify using his things without permission. She’d used the buggy every day last week and she needed it again today, but she’d have to find another way to get around town or her sins would just keep piling up and she’d end up owing Jethro a lot of money she couldn’t begin to pay back.
Mammi and Dawdi had offered to let her use their buggy, but she didn’t want to impose on them any more than she already had. They wouldn’t be in the woods with her forever. She needed to learn to solve her own problems.
Aden was Mary Anne’s cousin. H
er fater, Peter, and Aden’s fater, Emmon, were bruders, sons of Mammi and Dawdi Helmuth. Both Mary Anne’s parents and Aden’s parents lived in Ohio.
Aden’s wife, Lily, was one of Mary Anne’s best friends. Lily didn’t mind that Mary Anne didn’t have children, like some of the women in the community did. Not that anyone was particularly unkind, but some few seemed to believe infertility was a punishment from Gotte, and they looked at her as if trying to guess what sins she had committed that she hadn’t yet repented of. More often than not, however, the women of the community included her in their canning frolics and quilting bees, but Mary Anne was painfully aware that having children bonded women in a way nothing else could. She simply didn’t fit into the group though they did their best to include her.
Lily and Aden lived on a tidy farm on the outskirts of town. Their barn roof was smothered in solar panels, and at least three dozen chickens ran every which way around the barnyard. Mary Anne couldn’t imagine how those chickens survived. Aden’s dog, Pilot, was as big as a bear and as mischievous as a raccoon. Surely he was always on the prowl for a good chicken leg.
Mary Anne got out of Jethro’s buggy and nudged aside a few chickens with her foot on her way up the sidewalk. Lily opened the door before Mary Anne could knock and squealed in delight. She gave Mary Anne a hug, immediately lost her smile, and pulled Mary Anne into the house as if there was an angry bear just outside the door. “I can barely breathe, I’m so curious,” Lily said, leading Mary Anne into the kitchen, where her three-year-old son, Aden Jr., sat on the floor playing with the one-year-old twins.
Mary Anne always got a thrill walking into Lily’s kitchen. The variety of plants and flowers Lily and Aden kept in their house was astounding. They had their own indoor garden every day of the year. Aden had told Mary Anne it was to improve the indoor air quality. Mary Anne just loved all the colors.
Pulling a chair from under the table, Lily motioned for Mary Anne to sit. Lily sat down next to her and wrapped her fingers around Mary Anne’s wrist. “Now,” she said, leaning in eagerly, “I want to hear everything. Is it true you moved into a tent in your backyard?”
Mary Anne pressed her lips together and braced for Lily’s disapproval. A fraa shouldn’t leave her husband. No matter how nice the bishop had been about it, Mary Anne knew she was going against the church, the Bible, and the Ordnung. Jethro, the person who was supposed to love her most in the whole world, hadn’t taken it well. There was no telling how her friends would react. “It’s true. I’m camping in the woods with my grandparents.”
Lily’s mouth fell open. “Anna and Felty?”
“Jah. They set up their own tent and moved in on Thursday.”
Lily put her hand to her mouth to cover a giggle. “Ach! What a sight to see.”
“We’re doing solidarity together.”
Lily’s smile wilted. “There’s rumors that Anna and Felty are thinking of getting divorced.”
“I think they’re just rumors, but Mammi is wonderful insistent that they’re only going to leave when I do, and Dawdi has already had enough. Last night the wind flattened their tent while they were still inside it, and they made quite a fuss. Jethro was asleep in the house, and he heard Mammi squealing. We tried to resurrect their tent so they could go back to sleep, but the poles had blown away. Jethro took Mammi and Dawdi into the house and let them sleep in the spare bedroom. It was a big sacrifice. He had to move his fishing pole.”
Lily heaved a big sigh. “Oh, dear. I’m froh Jethro was there to help.” She reached down and pulled a marker from Aden Jr.’s fist. “Aden Junior, don’t color your schwester.” Estee, one of the twins, contentedly sucked on her binky, oblivious to the wide gash of color down the side of her face. Emily, the other twin, pounded a little wooden hammer into a pile of blocks. Lily hadn’t caught Aden Jr. in time. Both of Emily’s cheeks were covered with green scribbles. Lily heaved an even bigger sigh. “Ach, vell. That mess isn’t going anywhere.” She leaned closer to Mary Anne. “So, tell me everything. How long ago did you move out?”
“Monday night.”
Lily gave her a look of the deepest sympathy Mary Anne had ever seen. “Ach. On your anniversary. Didn’t he like the dinner?”
Mary Anne traced her finger along the line in the table. “He didn’t eat it. He went fishing.”
“Ach du lieva, Mary Anne. No wonder you moved out.”
Mary Anne dared to raise her gaze to Lily’s face. “You aren’t mad at me?”
“Mad at you? Jethro has had blinders on for years. I don’t know how you stood it.”
Mary Anne let out a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding. “I know it’s wicked, and I’ll probably go to hell.”
Lily frowned. “I wish I knew the answer to that, but I’m not the bishop. I think you did a very brave thing, but for sure and certain the gmayna won’t approve. You know how my dat feels about the Helmuths.”
“Your husband in particular.”
“Jah,” Lily said, grinning in spite of herself. “He wasn’t happy when I married Aden, and he blamed Aden’s whole family, especially Anna and Felty. But he’s being less grumpy about it all the time. He even comes to dinner sometimes, though he always gives us a long lecture on Aden’s shortcomings when he comes over.” Estee started fussing, and Lily picked her up and set her in her lap. “Dat thinks you should be shunned for setting a bad example for all the fraaen in the community. He’s not the only one. Jethro has talked to the elders.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. He’s wonderful angry.”
Lily lowered her voice, as if someone was eavesdropping. “Jethro has talked to just about everybody, mostly to get sympathy but also to get ammunition. If he gets the community behind him, it will be hard for you to do anything but move back in with him.”
Mary Anne slumped her shoulders. Because of what she’d done, it was unlikely anyone in the Amish community would hire her. “I know, and I was hoping to find a job. I owe Jethro two hundred dollars.”
Lily nodded. “You need money.”
Mary Anne squeezed her hand. “Will you help me?”
“Of course. We have almost a hundred dollars in the cookie jar.”
“Nae, I don’t want your money.”
“It’s a loan, Mary Anne, and we can buy the egg sorter next year.”
Mary Anne shook her head. “I need your help more than I need your money. My friend Pammy at the library is selling my quilts on the computer. I’ve already finished one quilt top and I need people to help me quilt it. I don’t think any of the women in the gmayna will come to one of my quilting frolics.”
Lily bounced Estee on her knee. “Of course I’ll come. Where are you going to set up a quilt? I’m guessing Jethro won’t let you do it in the house.”
“I suppose I’ll just do it out in the woods next to my tent, but first I have to steal the quilt frames from the cellar.”
Lily giggled again. “It sounds so exciting, but it’s not stealing if it’s yours.”
“Jethro bought them with his money. Everything is his.”
“Ach, Mary Anne, when you get married you’re supposed to become one flesh with your husband. One flesh means the money too.”
Mary Anne scrunched her lips together in mock confusion. “I’ve never heard that in a sermon.”
“And you never will,” Lily said. “Not as long as my dat is preaching.” She got to her feet and went to the sink, where she did what she could to wipe the green smudge off Estee’s face.
Mary Anne picked up Emily and transported her to the sink as well. She got a little soap on a dishrag and gently scrubbed Emily’s cheeks. It took the top layer of color off, but marker was notoriously stubborn. “Emily might have light green cheeks for gmay.”
“Oh, sis yuscht, Mary Anne. Maybe you had better stay away from church tomorrow. They’re not going to be nice. At the very least, they’ll give you the cold shoulder.”
Mary Anne swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d take her medicine lik
e a gute Amish girl. “Jethro has given me the cold shoulder for four years. It’s nothing I haven’t borne before.”
“But everyone will stare at you. My dat will scowl for sure and certain. He might even chastise you in front of everybody.” Mary Anne didn’t doubt it. Lily’s dat was one of the ministers and quite proud and protective of his importance.
“As long as they let me in the door, I’ll be there. It might keep me from hell, when all is said and done.”
Lily shook her head. “Ach, Mary Anne. I wish I had your courage.”
“You do. As I remember, you stood up to your dat when he wanted you to marry Tyler Yoder. He kicked you out of the house.”
“I almost chickened out.”
Lily and Mary Anne set the twins on the floor, where they immediately crawled away in search of adventure. “I’ll have the quilt set up on Monday afternoon in the woods behind the house,” Mary Anne said.
“I’ll come after naptime.” Lily opened a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out a little pouch. “Impatiens seeds. They grow well in the shade. You can plant some around the tent.” She gave Mary Anne a hug. “I hope you find a job. You should go look for one today. Maybe news hasn’t spread yet and someone will accidentally hire you.”
“I’ll do that,” Mary Anne said, even if they both knew there was no hope.
News in an Amish community traveled faster than a horse in a buggy race.
* * *
Mary Anne knocked on her sister’s door and listened for any sign of life inside the house. Mary Anne’s sister Mandy and Mandy’s husband, Noah, lived in a brand-new house Noah had built himself from foundation to roof. Of course, a slew of Amish neighbors had helped put up the walls, taped and sanded the Sheetrock, and lay the wood floors, but Noah had done just about everything else, including digging the well and installing the plumbing. Noah was very handy that way. Noah and Mandy also had solar panels—Aden’s idea—to heat water that ran in pipes under the floorboards and heated the house. They had no problem getting approval from the bishop. He had the same heating system in his house.
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