Mandy had moved to Bonduel two years ago when she’d married Noah Mischler, and Mary Anne had been overjoyed to have her schwester in town, even though Mandy liked to stick her nose in other people’s business.
Well, she was about to be neck deep in Mary Anne’s business. Mary Anne needed quilters, and Mandy was her schwester. Of course she’d say yes.
Mandy opened the door with her arm resting protectively on her stomach. Mary Anne always felt a twinge of pain whenever she saw someone close to having a baby, but she would never begrudge anyone their happiness. Every baby was a miracle, a gift from Gotte. Just because Mary Anne couldn’t get pregnant didn’t mean she couldn’t rejoice with her schwester, even if that rejoicing came with a little hurt attached.
Mandy gasped. “Mary Anne. Noah says you’ve left Jethro. Is it true?”
Mary Anne’s lips curled involuntarily. “It’s so nice to see you too.”
Mandy flicked her wrist in Mary Anne’s direction. “Don’t tease. You know I’ve heard the gossip. Have you left Jethro?”
“Jah.”
“And you’re living in a tent?”
“In the backyard.”
Mandy pressed her lips together and shook her head in righteous indignation. “I told you to go see a counselor. Noah wouldn’t have survived without a counselor to help him with his dat.”
“I don’t need a counselor, Mandy. The bishop would never approve, and it wouldn’t do any good. I’ve left Jethro, and that’s that.”
Mandy narrowed her eyes. “Do you want me to go talk to him? I don’t mind putting him in his place. He needs to treat my schwester better. I’ll tell him. Do you want me to tell him?”
Mary Anne had expected Mandy’s righteous indignation. There wasn’t a problem in the world Mandy didn’t think she could fix. “Nae, Mandy. I need your help, but I don’t want you to scold my husband. I need money and—”
“We’ve got a little in the bank. You can have it.”
Mary Anne was going to have to stop telling people she needed money. Her family would give away all their savings if she let them. “I don’t want your money. I’m going to sell quilts, and I need quilters. Can you come and help me quilt?”
“Ach, vell, I’m not a very gute quilter, but I’d be happy to help until the baby comes.”
“How are you feeling?”
Mandy smiled. “Sore all over, and my stretch marks are getting stretch marks. I’ve never seen Noah so happy and so terrified at the same time, but there will never be a better fater.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is Jethro giving you a hard time about not having a baby? I’m going over there right now to give him a piece of my mind.”
Of course Jethro was giving her a hard time about not having a baby, but in ways he didn’t even recognize himself. “Nae. Don’t talk to him. Just come and quilt.”
Mandy glanced behind her, then stepped out of the house and shut the door. “I don’t want to worry you, but Noah was very upset when he heard you’d moved out. His mater left his fater because his fater wouldn’t stop drinking, and it very nearly crushed Noah. He doesn’t understand. Jethro is a gute man.”
Mary Anne couldn’t argue with that. Jethro was a gute man, but he was also blind and indifferent. “You don’t have to come if it will make Noah unhappy.”
Mandy blew a puff of air from between her lips. “You are my schwester. Noah would want me to help, even if he isn’t all that happy about it. The eye can’t see what quiet sorrows dwell in our hearts. He knows that better than most.” She leaned over and gave Mary Anne a kiss on the cheek. “When should I come to quilt?”
“Monday afternoon.”
“Where are we quilting?”
“In the woods,” Mary Anne said.
Mandy frowned. “We’ll get rained on.”
“We can’t go in the house.”
Mandy thought about that for a minute. “Sarah Beachy has one of those big canopies they use at auctions. It has walls, and it’s big enough for two quilts if you need.”
“Do you think she’d let me use it?”
“She’s our cousin. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
Mary Anne grinned as it felt like the clouds might part to let in a little sunshine on her life. “It’s a gute thing Mammi and Dawdi had so many children. We’ve got cousins all over the place.” Sarah was Mammi and Dawdi’s oldest granddaughter, old enough to be Mary Anne’s mother and more likely to give Mary Anne an earful for her bad behavior. But she was still family. And she had a canopy for Mary Anne’s quilts. Mary Anne gave Mandy a sideways hug. “I’ll ask Sarah.”
“I’ll be there on Monday,” Mandy said. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’m not afraid to give Jethro a gute rebuke.”
Mary Anne paused momentarily and pinned Mandy with a stern eye. “Promise me you won’t go near Jethro.”
“I can’t promise that. It’s church tomorrow. Besides, the Bible says to swear not at all.”
“Mandy,” Mary Anne said, putting an extra dose of warning in her voice. “Leave him alone.”
Mandy twisted her lips into a pout. “Okay. I won’t scold Jethro, even though he deserves it.”
Jethro didn’t deserve any such thing. He was already suffering enough.
Mary Anne tried to ignore the hitch in her heart when she thought of Jethro sitting alone, miserable in that gloomy, lifeless house. She didn’t love him anymore, but she suddenly felt wonderful guilty about what she was putting him through. “Jethro will be all right,” she said, more to convince herself than anyone else.
“But will you?” Mandy placed her hands on Mary Anne’s shoulders. “At least be sensible and skip church tomorrow.”
Mary Anne sighed. “I’ll have to go sometime, and I may as well get it over with.”
Mandy looked positively stricken. “What about Jethro’s parents? Do they know?”
“I don’t know.”
Mandy clicked her tongue. “They’ll be at gmay. Aren’t you afraid of Lois? I am.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but Mary Anne was terrified of Lois. Jethro’s mater was fiercely loyal to her family, and she would not be happy that Mary Anne had left her son. “Maybe staying home is a gute idea.”
“Of course, that will give them one more sin to add to your pile.” Mandy scrunched her lips to one side of her face. “Or maybe your pile is so tall already, it won’t matter.”
Mary Anne squared her shoulders. She’d known the consequences of her choice when she made it. Angry mothers-in-law, disapproving neighbors, and unhappy husbands would not weaken her determination. “The sooner they get used to seeing me without Jethro, the better. I’m still a part of the gmayna, and I’m going tomorrow.”
“Even if Jethro’s mamm yells at you?”
“Lord willing, it won’t come to that.”
Mandy shook her head. “Ach, schwester. It definitely will come to that. I admire your bravery. But then, a fraa who leaves her husband is no shrinking violet. Just don’t let Lois Neuenschwander see you cry.”
“I won’t. I’ve always been gute at hiding my emotions.”
* * *
Sarah Beachy was a no-nonsense kind of woman, a midwife, and the mother of eight children, and Mary Anne wasn’t altogether sure Sarah wouldn’t throw Mary Anne out on her ear as soon as she stepped into the house.
Mary Anne pulled up to Sarah’s place, where dogs and goats and boys ran amok in the yard. The boys—there had to be at least a dozen of them—were playing Annie I Over, and one of Sarah’s younger sons had just run around from the backyard and was trying to hit someone from the other team with a big rubber ball. The best Mary Anne could hope for was that she didn’t get tackled on her way up the sidewalk.
She successfully dodged two boys who were in turn trying to dodge the ball, but another one of Sarah’s sons wasn’t paying attention and backed into her. Fortunately, he didn’t nudge her very hard. She probably wouldn’t have a bruise.
Sarah’s boy—Mary Anne didn’t know his name—turned ar
ound, and surprise popped all over his face. “Ach. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“Hello. I can’t remember your name.”
“It’s Pine.”
“Okay, Pine. Is your mamm home?”
“She’s in the house. Just walk in.”
Mary Anne wasn’t all that comfortable with walking in, but it seemed the kind of house where people would just walk in, strangers and friends alike. She opened the door and entered an empty great room with sparse furniture but plenty of room for church when it was their turn. “Hallo,” she called, still unsure of the reception she’d get. Maybe she’d walked in where she wasn’t welcome.
“Who’s there?” Sarah called back from the kitchen. “Come farther in. I’m up to my elbows in dough.”
Mary Anne tiptoed across the great room as if she didn’t want to get caught, and into the kitchen, which had three large windows and a skylight in the ceiling. Sarah was indeed up to her elbows in dough, kneading a ball as big as her head.
“I hope I’m not interrupting. Pine said I could walk in.”
Sarah looked up from her kneading and raised an eyebrow in Mary Anne’s direction. “I hear you’re making all kinds of trouble, Cousin.”
Mary Anne’s mouth was already dry. Now she thought she might choke on her own tongue. “I . . . I don’t mean to.”
“Of course you do.” Sarah rolled her dough into a thick rope, lifted it onto the cutting board, and cut it into five pieces. “We can let that rest for a few minutes.” She rinsed her hands and wiped them on a towel hanging on the fridge. Sarah had big, capable hands that suited her well. She was almost six feet tall with a perpetual frown on her face and a good-natured gleam in her eye.
Mary Anne didn’t know Sarah well. There was such a big difference in their ages. But she knew Sarah didn’t put up with nonsense from anybody without being grumpy about it. Mary Anne liked her because she told you exactly what she thought. Everyone knew where Sarah stood, and it made her the most trustworthy person in Wisconsin.
“Cum and sit,” Sarah said, leading Mary Anne to the massive table that took up half the space in the kitchen. Mary Anne sat while Sarah poured two cups of steaming kaffee. Mary Anne nearly swooned with pleasure. She hadn’t had gute kaffee in a week. Sarah set down the two cups and sat at the head of the table. “I tell you, Mary Anne, folks around here haven’t had this much excitement since the tornado hit the school. And you can only gossip so long about a tornado.”
Mary Anne wrapped her hands around her cup but didn’t dare take a sip. She wanted to be alert if Sarah decided to throw her out. “I’m sorry.”
Sarah shifted in her chair to face Mary Anne head-on. “Why are you sorry?”
“I’m sorry I’ve upset so many people.”
“You’re not sorry you left?”
“Nae.” She hated that she sounded like a little mouse.
Sarah grunted and gave Mary Anne a curt nod. “Gute. You never have to apologize for being brave.”
“You . . . you aren’t mad at me?”
“Of course not, though it doesn’t matter if I am or not. Plenty of other people are. Barbara Yutzy practically had a conniption fit in the market, and Rose Mast and Scilla Zook are mad as wet hens. I’d stay away from them for a week or two. Barbara can get pretty mean.”
“But you’re not mad?”
“Nae. Husbands need to be put in their place once in awhile—just like wives do, I suppose. Husbands put their wives in their place all the time, but most Amish fraaen don’t dare do it to their husbands. That’s why the men of the church get too big for their britches.”
“But you said everybody’s mad at me.”
“You’re helping every last woman in Bonduel, though hardly nobody sees it that way. The men of this town are shaking in their boots, wondering if their wives are going to leave them too, considering that maybe they need to be better husbands, hiding their tents. You’ve done the women of the community a great service, even if they’ll never thank you for it.”
Mary Anne furrowed her brow. “I don’t suppose . . . I didn’t intend to do all that. I just moved out.”
“A big door moves on a very small hinge.”
Mary Anne took a sip of her kaffee, which turned out to be pumpkin spice. She sighed. “This is delicious. And so warm.”
“I’ll bet that tent gets wonderful cold at night.”
“There was frost on my sleeping bag Tuesday morning, and the wind almost took Mammi and Dawdi with it last night.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow and puckered her lips. “Mammi and Dawdi? What about Mammi and Dawdi?”
“Thursday night they set up a tent and sleeping bags next to mine. I tried to talk them out of it, but they said they came to support me.”
Sarah snorted. “And you believed them?”
“I don’t know.” Did Sarah suspect the same ulterior motive Mary Anne suspected?
Sarah covered her mouth to cough and seemed to wipe a smile from her face with her hand. “Ach, vell. Of course they’re there to support you. Why else would they come? But I can’t imagine that’s going to last very long. Two eighty-year-olds shouldn’t be sleeping in sleeping bags.”
“I agree.”
“Then again, Mammi is stubborn. It’s her best and worst quality.”
“Jah.”
Sarah took a swig from her mug. “Now, Mary Anne, how are you going to support yourself? I don’t wonder but Jethro has cut you off. I hear he’s wonderful angry—not that you should feel bad about that. He got what was coming to him.”
Mary Anne couldn’t quite agree with that, though she wasn’t sure why. She hadn’t moved out to punish Jethro, had she? She just wanted to find her own happiness and let Jethro find his. “I took two hundred dollars from him. It’s understandable he’d be angry.”
Sarah blew air through her nose. “You’re more forgiving than I am.”
“I have a few plans for making money. I’m making a quilt to sell. The top is done, but I need quilters to help me finish it.”
“I don’t like quilting, but Mammi taught me how to do it all the same. I can help.”
Mary Anne wasn’t ready for how emotional Sarah’s kindness made her. “Oh, denki. I so appreciate it.”
“Don’t say that until you see how wide my stitches are.”
“It wonders me if I could borrow the canopy you use for auctions. I don’t have room in my tent to set up the quilt, and Jethro won’t let me in the house.”
Sarah nodded. “You can use it, but you’ll need help setting it up. It’s as heavy as a horse. I’ll send my boys over. You can keep them if you feel so inclined.”
Mary Anne giggled. “I’m willing to let them stay if they bring their own food. I can’t afford to feed them.”
“I can’t either, but here we are. I shouldn’t have kept trying for another girl. All it got me was five boys at the tail end.” Sarah finished off her kaffee. “Quilt making isn’t going to bring in enough money, I’m afraid.”
“I’m going to find a job too.”
Sarah shook her head, her mouth drooping like a wilted flower. “No one around here will hire you. We’d give you a job if we could, but we’ve already got too many sons to work the farm as it is.” Sarah cleared both cups from the table. “Cum. I’ll have the boys get the wagon hitched up and bring the canopy to your house.”
They walked outside together, where the gaggle of boys was now playing some form of tackle football without a ball. “Boys,” Sarah barked.
Her four youngest sons immediately peeled themselves from the group and came running.
“I need you to hitch up the team and take the canopy to the woods behind Mary Anne’s house and set it up for her.”
The youngest Beachy boy, who was probably about twelve, slouched his shoulders and groaned. “Aw, Mamm. We just started a new game.”
Sarah wagged her finger at her son. “No complaining, young man. Mary Anne needs our help. Take your friends with you and get them out of my hair. T
here’ll be pizza waiting for all of you when you get home.”
“Yes, Mamm.”
“And, Pine,” Sarah said, pinning her son with a stern eye. “The next time someone comes to the house, don’t just send them in like you don’t have any manners. I taught you better than that.”
“Yes, Mamm.”
The four boys gathered up their friends and disappeared around the side of the house.
“His name is Pine?” Mary Anne said. “I didn’t remember that.”
“His real name is LaWayne, after his dawdi, but none of us liked the name much. His hair stuck out like a porcupine when he was born, and we started calling him Pine. We all like it better.” Sarah propped her hands on her hips. “You better get home so you can show those boys where you want that canopy.”
Mary Anne nodded. “Denki, Sarah. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
Sarah smiled for the first time since Mary Anne had come. “Consider it a thank-you gift. My Aaron made breakfast this morning. He’s one of the best as far as husbands go, but do you know how long it’s been since he made breakfast?”
Chapter Seven
Oy, anyhow.
Mary Anne couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned. Her sister Mandy had been quite insistent that Mary Anne shouldn’t go to church today. Mary Anne had anticipated some dirty looks and curious stares from everyone, but she hadn’t expected the almost hostile reception she received from the women—most especially her mother-in-law—as soon as she alighted from Mammi and Dawdi’s buggy. This morning Mammi had stuffed half a dozen pot holders into her white apron pocket and said something about buttering up the enemy.
Mary Anne’s most dreaded encounter was with Jethro’s mater, Lois. In truth, she was surprised Lois hadn’t been to the woods to chastise her already. Maybe Lois was biding her time, thinking Mary Anne would move back into the house before the week was out. Maybe Lois was so angry she couldn’t look at Mary Anne without spitting at her, and she was waiting until she had cooled down to have a talk with her. Maybe Lois and Jethro and Chris, Jethro’s fater, were making plans to lock all the windows in the house and didn’t want Mary Anne to suspect anything.
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