Starting from Scratch

by Kate Lloyd

  “Thanks for your help with the soup this morning,” I told her departing form. She exited and closed the door without looking back.

  “Is something wrong?” I kept my distance from Stephen, who seemed agitated.

  “I wanted to show you the newspaper before anyone else did.” He unfolded it to expose the front page. “Check this out.”

  “Ach.” I drew near to see my image in black-and-white. I was standing alongside two police officers in front of a squad car. The photographer had taken the photo at an angle, so my features were not readily identifiable. Yet anyone who knew me would recognize my profile.

  “Say it isn’t so.” My hand moved to my throat.

  “The reporter had his heart in the right place.” Stephen shifted his weight back and forth. “This article admonishes drivers to pay more heed to buggies and describes the needless accident and the horse’s injury.”

  With a shaky hand, I took the paper from him and examined the photo. “Thank the Lord my parents don’t read this paper.” But I knew it had an expansive circulation in Lancaster County.

  “Does the article mention what happened to the horse?” I felt compassion for the poor animal. “Will it be all right?”

  “Didn’t say. And the honking truck is long gone.” He refolded the paper and tucked it under his elbow. “I don’t think our customers need to see this issue. Especially if the bishop comes in later.”

  Despite my trepidation, the morning hummed along smoothly. Joe, Olivia’s lanky older brother, delivered her baked goods, Sadie arrived in a cheerful mood, and Beatrice came back with a smile on her face. I banished all thoughts of the horrendous newspaper photo from my mind and concentrated on running a tight ship as customers straggled in at nine.

  I watched Sadie’s face brim with gladness as Mark arrived for coffee. I had to admit he was a fine-looking young man—his jawline rectangular and smooth. No wonder she hoped to attract his attention.

  “Good morning, Eva.” Was he intentionally ignoring Sadie as she brought him a mug of coffee? He finally mumbled a meager “Denki” to her.

  “Hello, Mark.” Beatrice bustled to his side. “I invited Eva for supper tonight. Would you care to join us?”

  “Uh, I don’t know if I can come,” I said before he could answer. “I might grab a snack from the café.”

  “Why, of course you can come. You said you would.” Beatrice patted my arm in a matronly fashion. “I’ve already purchased the fixings for spaghetti and meatballs. Wait until you taste my marinara sauce—a family recipe brought over by my grandparents from Tuscany.”

  “That sounds tasty, but—”

  “I won’t take no for an answer.” She turned to Mark. “Can I count on you?”

  “Yah, sounds gut. I’ll have to go home first to help with chores, but then I’ll come right back. I don’t live too far away.”

  “Perfetto. We’ll wait for your return.” Beatrice seemed pleased with herself, her mouth widening and her eyes sparkling.

  How could she put me in this awkward position without consulting me first? She was playing matchmaker and not considering my wishes. Or Sadie’s.

  As Mark stood sipping his coffee, his green eyes stole a glance at me. I didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, and yet I’d told Dat I was on the lookout for a beau.

  I wondered if Mark knew how old I was or anything about my dicey past, or if he’d seen the newspaper today. Not that I’d done anything wrong. Yet if I hadn’t accepted a ride from Stephen, I never would have ended up standing at the side of the road with policemen for all the world to see.

  “Then it’s settled.” Beatrice glanced down at my Nikes. “Unless you have other plans, Eva. Such as going jogging or shopping?”

  “Nee. No more shopping sprees.”

  Mark scanned my feet. “Hey, I like your new shoes.”

  “This is their first day, and they’re already comfortable. I hope women are allowed to wear them in this district.”

  “As far as I know. You can ask Bishop Harvey when he comes into the café,” Mark said. “He’s a godly man and fair.”

  “If he says no, then of course I won’t wear them.”

  “I can’t imagine he wants your feet to hurt. Harvey’s not as conservative as your parents’ bishop, but I’ve heard Jonathon Stoltzfus is so old he rarely leaves his house, so he’ll never see them.” Mark moved toward the door. “I’d better get back to work.” He tossed Beatrice a grin. “Thanks for your invitation. Can I bring anything?”

  “Just yourself.” Her face showed satisfaction, her gray eyes animated as if she’d just pulled off an incredible feat. I glanced over her shoulder and saw Sadie looking despondent, her arms slack and hanging at her sides. Poor thing. No matter. After tonight Mark would understand he and I were not a good match. Or was I turning judgmental? In my mind, I prayed the Lord would steer me in the right direction and not allow Beatrice to orchestrate my world.

  The café’s lunch rush kept me too occupied to worry about my social life. I was gratified when customers commented that they liked the soup, and I mentioned that Beatrice had helped me.

  “No, Eva did most of the work.” Once again, Beatrice showed more humility than I’d expected. Maybe I’d misjudged her, but I cringed when I thought about dining in Glenn Yoder’s house with her and Mark.

  When a tall, older man with spectacles and a voluminous salt-and-pepper beard sauntered in, Beatrice introduced us by first names, as was common. “Eva, come meet Bishop Harvey.”

  He shook my hand, his grasp firm. “I heard you’re working here, Eva.” His stare probed into me. “How’s the new job going?”

  “Couldn’t be better, thanks to Beatrice and Sadie.”

  “That’s gut. I think you’ll find Glenn Yoder an excellent man to work for. Of course, we’re disappointed he didn’t join the church.” He glanced down at my feet but didn’t seem disturbed by my shoes. I was glad I’d chosen the black ones instead of the neon green.

  “Eva, I hear you’ve not been baptized yet.” He was old enough to be my grandfather, and his crusty voice was deeper, more forceful than mine.

  “Not yet, but I intend to.” I had just lied to a bishop. In fact, I wasn’t sure I would ever become baptized. Would God punish me if I didn’t follow through?

  “Excellent,” he said. “Classes for new members in this district are starting soon.”

  When Beatrice moved out of earshot to help a customer, I asked him, “Is it all right for me to eat supper in the main house?”

  “Yah. I’m not concerned that Beatrice will lead you astray. She’s Catholic, but you’re safe with her as long as you don’t start attending her church.”

  “Nee, I never would.” I lowered my volume. “About supper tonight. What if she has also invited a single man to join us?” I hoped he’d nix the whole idea.

  “Is he Amish?”

  I nodded.

  “I foresee no problem as long as Beatrice is there. She’s not such a bad matchmaker. She’s introduced several Amish couples who later married.”

  “Harvey, do you know I’m almost thirty?”

  “Are you afraid you’re too old to start a family?”

  My tongue felt as if it held a mouthful of peanut butter. I shrugged.

  “I don’t think mei frau would have minded me telling ya that she didn’t give birth to our first child until age thirty-one. We prayed and waited like Abraham and Sarah until the Lord blessed us with children. Five of them.” His voice was kind and reassuring, but I couldn’t bring myself to look into his eyes.

  He stroked his capacious beard. “ ‘Wait on the Lord; be of good courage.’ ”

  I was saved from having to reply when a bevy of Englisch women bustled into the café and zeroed in on the glass case.

  “I best be getting back to work.” I checked my kapp. Ach, I’d tossed its strings over my back in a casual manner. “Beatrice and Sadie need me at the cash register.”

  “Yah, of course. Anytime you wish to spea
k further on this or any subject in private, please let me know.”

  “Denki.” I spun on my heel and hurried away.

  ELEVEN

  Dread encompassed me as I primped for supper. I asked myself why I’d changed into my favorite sky-blue dress that matched my eyes, and why I’d spent an inordinate amount of time arranging my hair and positioning my kapp.

  As I assessed myself in the mirror, I recalled Sadie’s forlorn expression when she left the café. She was a far better match for Mark than I was, but, apparently, he didn’t think so or he would have driven her home from a singing by now.

  I stepped out onto my porch and was flabbergasted to see Mark standing at the bottom of the steps.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He tipped his straw hat.

  “Um—I didn’t hear your buggy pull up or the dogs barking.” I tried to regain my composure while flattening my apron.

  “Look, Eva, if you’d rather I didn’t stay for supper, I don’t need to.” He ran his thumbs up and down his suspenders.

  “And disappoint Beatrice?”

  “Well, now, it’s you I came to see. You must know that.”

  I paused, trying to find the right words. “Perhaps we should speak before we go inside.” I glanced toward the back door of the house and was happy not to see Beatrice spying through the paned window. “Mark, you will no doubt hear rumors about me.”

  “I already have, and I couldn’t care less. You know how wagging tongues pollute the air. We are admonished not to gossip, but that doesn’t stop some people from poking their noses where they don’t belong. We’re all sinners, yah?”

  “Most of the gossip isn’t true, but not everything said about me is a lie. For instance, I’m almost thirty years old.”

  He appeared unruffled. “You look much younger, and you’re beautiful.” He gazed into my face until I looked away. “I’m twenty-four,” he said. “A mature adult.”

  Ach, I didn’t wish to say something callous and hurt his feelings. “Well, you’re far younger than I am.” I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. “How about Sadie? I think she’s sweet on you.”

  “She’s not my type. Too skittish, like a colt.” He stepped forward until I had to look into his eyes. “Please forgive me if I’m coming on too strong. Maybe you don’t find me attractive, but I’m determined to win your affections.”

  The lowering sun cast a salmon glow across his face. He had a fine-looking face, I had to admit. But I couldn’t help comparing him to Jake, who would always hold a place in my heart. I wondered if Mark knew Jake. Growing up in the area, the two of them might have crossed paths.

  I descended the steps, and we strolled toward the house’s back porch. The door swung open with a flourish as if Beatrice had been waiting just inside. A cloud of scrumptious warm air floated out, making my mouth water.

  “Don’t be shy.” Beatrice’s mouth curved up into an impish grin. “Come inside, you two.”

  The black cat flew into the kitchen as Beatrice shook her finger and scolded the dogs in a flurry of Italian.

  Mark and I ascended the steps. “After you.” He waited for me to enter the house first. He was a gentleman too. Why was I being so standoffish?

  “Wait until you taste my spaghetti and meatballs,” Beatrice called out from inside. “Mama’s recipe from the old country is deliziosa.” Which I assumed meant “delicious” in Italian. “You won’t find this at the Olive Garden.”

  I scuffed my shoes on the welcome mat before stepping inside. The kitchen was stylishly updated with frosted-glass-faced cupboards, granite counters, and brushed aluminum appliances. Above the stove hung an impressive assortment of pans. A panini maker also resided on the counter.

  “This house is mighty fancy,” Mark said. He scanned the counter with its Cuisinart and electric toaster.

  I inhaled the savory aroma of simmering tomato sauce, garlic, basil, and ground beef. The round table was set for three. Flowered cloth napkins and decorative plates—from Orvieto in Tuscany, Beatrice said—looked festive. A block of Parmesan cheese sat on a wooden cutting board next to a grater. A chunky loaf of Italian bread waited on a wooden board alongside a serrated knife. Water in a large metal pot simmered, sending a steamy cloud to the ceiling.

  “We’ll eat right here in the kitchen if you don’t mind.” Beatrice took Mark’s straw hat and hung it on a hook next to several baseball caps that must have belonged to Glenn. “Make yourself comfortable while I put in the pasta.” She glided to the stove and slid straight noodles into the pot of bubbling water.

  I scanned the room. A pie on the counter emitted a fruity aroma with browned-to-perfection dough.

  “Glenn and his wife received fancy china and silverware as wedding presents, but we’ll use their everyday plates and flatware.” I had imagined a stilted conversation, but Beatrice acted lively, chattering about how much she’d enjoyed working in the café even though she missed Glenn and Rose’s wee ragazza, whom she described as bellissima, I assumed to mean “beautiful.”

  “The little girl’s name is Emmy. She was born a month early, and the doctor insisted she stay in the hospital for a week. Poor Glenn and Rose were frantic. That’s when they hired me to live on the third floor to keep an eye on her. She’s like a grandchild to me now.”

  I was glad Beatrice was in such a loquacious mood. It saved me from having to fabricate a subject when all I wanted to do was eat and then retreat to my cabin.

  Beatrice was a gracious hostess and would not let me help serve or clear the table. After we all consumed her marvelous spaghetti, she sliced into the pie. Its crust was so flaky I was tempted to take a second piece when she offered it, but I’d promised myself not to gain weight while working in the café.

  She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Eva, now that you’re living in a new district, you simply must attend a singing.”

  “What?” I felt like an opossum stuck in the middle of a road. “I haven’t been to one of those for years.”

  “All the more reason to go. Don’t you want to lift up your voice in song and praise the Lord?” She turned to Mark. “You could drive her home, couldn’t you?”

  He seemed to grow taller in his chair. “Yah, absolutely. And give her a ride there too, unless she has other plans.”

  I tried to think up excuses. “People might think we’re dating.”

  “Would that be so terrible, Eva?” Beatrice said.

  “I might go to my parents’ this Sunday. This will be their district’s nonpreaching week. They’ll be entertaining or visiting neighbors.”

  “Please reconsider, Eva.” Mark’s eyes pleaded. “If you like, I can tell everyone I’m just giving you a ride out of convenience because you’re living here.”

  Did he not understand the word no?

  Beatrice pushed her chair away from the table. “Then it’s all settled. Mark will drive you, Eva.”

  “Nothing’s settled yet, thank you.” I stood to clear the dessert dishes. To change the subject, I asked, “Are the Yoders coming home this Saturday?”

  “No, a week from Saturday.”

  “I’m happy for them,” Mark said. “Glenn finally met his soul mate, even if she isn’t Amish.”

  “You should be married by now too, young man.” Beatrice sank back into her chair.

  Mark’s cheeks blushed. “Sometimes Gott puts people together…”

  It seemed to me Beatrice was doing all the putting, but maybe she had a good idea after all. It was about time I got realistic.

  When Mark and I bid Beatrice good night, Mark switched on his small flashlight and escorted me past the herb garden to my cabin.

  “See you tomorrow.” I certainly wasn’t going to invite him inside for a multitude of reasons, so I dallied at the bottom of my steps.

  The evening sky had turned from aquamarine to sapphire blue. I adored Lancaster County’s sky at dusk. The air was laced with a myriad of farmland scents. Amid a fusion of distant soun
ds—horses clopping and wagon wheels churning on the road, an owl hooting in the forested area out back—an automobile’s engine groaned, but it didn’t turn into the nursery’s parking lot. Not that I was expecting to see Stephen again tonight. Ach, what made me think of him?

  I climbed my stairs and turned the doorknob to make sure I hadn’t locked myself out. I pivoted to Mark. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Eva.” He must have known I wouldn’t open my door until he was gone. “I enjoyed getting to know you better.” He made no move to approach me. “If you’d rather not go to the singing with me, I won’t hold it against ya.”

  “I hope you understand my reluctance. I do love to sing—”

  “But you’re holding out for a better offer? Like for Jake to show up and sweep you off your feet?”

  “So you know the whole story?”

  “Yah, I have relatives in your parents’ district. I know Jake’s back, living with his parents again. And his dat came out of the coma and came home from the hospital this morning. His doctors preferred he remain in the trauma unit longer, but without insurance, even one day in the hospital was too expensive. Plus, Jake’s mamm said she could look after him.”

  “Then he must be doing better than a lot of coma patients do when they first wake up.”

  Mark massaged the back of his neck. “Well, Amos can’t speak or walk, but he’s able to drink from a straw and eat if someone holds a spoonful of strained food for him. Poor man.”

  “I’ve heard it takes weeks or even months to recover once the person wakes up. Each experience is unique, like a snowflake, and some need to relearn everything.” I recalled Olivia’s description, which had coincided with a magazine article I’d once read.

  “Are you hoping to see Jake?”

  “What?” I sputtered. I hadn’t expected his abrupt, personal question. “Nee. And I heard he might have gotten married.”

  “Not that I know of. But I haven’t seen Jake for years, and my relatives don’t talk about him much anymore.” He removed his hat and raked his fingers through his thick hair. “I do know one thing. If you fell in love with me, I’d never leave you.”