by Kate Lloyd
“Praise Gott he’s still alive.”
“Maybe we can visit later and give Ruth support.” She lowered her gaze. “In the meantime, we’re both skipping church.”
“This is a nonpreaching Sunday in this district,” I threw in to save face.
“I thought you were going to your parents’ church service today.”
“Ach, I slept in. And I forgot to ask Stephen’s permission to use the buggy again.”
“Want me to call Stephen for you?”
“No, he’s probably at church. And it’s too late to travel all that way by buggy.” Even though the nursery was devoid of customers and employees, I spoke in her ear. “Jake wants me to marry him before a justice of the peace and then get baptized later if we can.”
“And you said?”
“I’m sorely tempted.” I felt like a hose spewing its contents. I pressed my lips together lest I divulged too much, when in fact I didn’t know the answer.
Both she and I could make a mad dash and get to our destinations. But neither of us hurried. I needed someone to speak to. Not Mamm, not this time, and certainly not Olivia at this point.
We strolled along together toward the house’s grand front porch, with the dogs weaving between us. They clambered up the steps and snuffled around the swing.
Birds tittered and squirrels chattered on the branches of the maple tree, catching our attention.
“Look at the tiny new growth.” Beatrice tipped her head back. “The tree is still alive.”
“A sign from God?” I wondered aloud.
“According to Stephen, the arborist said we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Ach, always waiting.” I watched a squirrel balancing at the tip of a branch.
Beatrice let out a wistful sigh. “Sometimes when I’m caught in indecision, I write down the pros and cons.” She stroked Missy’s satiny forehead as the dog rubbed her muzzle against Beatrice’s skirt. “After I pray, of course.”
“My mind must have done that all night, as I barely slept.” I yawned. “For all I know, Jake has changed his mind by now. Most important should be Amos’s health and Ruth’s well-being.”
“My best guess is that both Ruth and Amos wish Jake to be baptized and to marry you.”
“But if Olivia moves in with them, everything could change. She’s far more attractive than I am, with a lively and outgoing personality. And she can cook too.” Jake could easily choose Olivia over me. With them living in the same house, how simple it would be.
“Eva, have you never turned your problems over to God and then let them go? As it’s written in Proverbs: ‘Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.’ ”
“Ach, I keep forgetting to do that.”
Beatrice and I strolled across the path leading to the greenhouses. The sun warmed the earth and leaves, still damp with dew. Rhododendrons and rosebushes bulged with the heady aroma of impending growth. I noticed hanging baskets, soon to hold a rainbow of colors. Birds tweeted up and down the scale, filling the air with harmonies.
The dogs snuffled the ground with intensity. I’d heard canines can detect smells hundreds of times better than we humans can. My hunch was they were hoping to catch the trace aroma of their owners. No matter how long I lived here, I might always be an outsider.
I wondered if Beatrice’s lost love would show up today. Unlikely on a Sunday morning. He would assume she was at church. But maybe this afternoon? She must have been thinking the same thing because her hair had been combed with care, and she wore a paisley shirt and a long flowing skirt.
“I know I’m being nosy, but do you think your friend might stop by?” I asked.
She shrugged one plump shoulder. “No way of knowing. The best thing I can do is put him out of my head.” Her hand moved toward a greenhouse door. She handed me Heath’s leash as she opened it. “Shall we go into a greenhouse before the customers arrive? It’s always so nice and warm in there, not to mention the aromas of the plants.”
As I followed her, we both stopped short at the sight of Bill Hastings. He was examining a small azalea bush, its pink buds ready to bloom. Heath’s hackles raised, and his ears drew back.
“What are you doing in here?” My voice came out with force and authority. “The nursery isn’t open yet.” I wanted to tell him he was not welcome in any case.
“I wish to buy these for my wife. I wasn’t planning to steal them, I promise.” He set the pot back down on the ground amid the other plants. “Will the Yoders not take my money anymore?” He extracted a wallet from his pocket and brought out two twenty-dollar bills. “Is this enough?” He handed the money to me.
I checked the price of the azalea. “This should more than cover it. But I don’t have change.”
“Keep the change after all the trouble we’ve caused you.” He glanced at Heath, who’d gone back to sniffing around the plants. Yet the dog’s presence gave me a feeling of assurance.
“Go ahead and take the azalea with you,” Beatrice said. “I’ll leave the money at the front cash register later. Better get out of here before Stephen arrives.”
“Actually, I spoke to Stephen when he stopped by our house yesterday. At first I thought he was coming to get on my case, but believe it or not, he said he wanted to apologize, that he’d acted badly and wished he could take back his words and actions.” Bill slipped his wallet into his jeans pocket. “I was totally blown away, but I found myself apologizing to him too. And we shook hands. After that, he shared some of his own story, and it seems we have a lot in common.”
I thought Bill had treated Stephen brutally, not to mention making false accusations against Heath and demanding the dog be shot. But both Beatrice and I listened, absorbing his story and trying to visualize the scene.
“And about Ralph’s burning down the barn?” Bill said. “When we were kids, we never played with matches. I can’t believe Ralph did it. Not on purpose anyway. His drinking dominates his life and makes him act like an idiot. He has blackouts, when he can’t remember anything. If I could only get him to go to AA. That’s something else Stephen and I spoke about. Stephen assured me there’s hope for Ralph, and he even promised to pray for him. Can you believe it? I thought Stephen would despise me forever.” He picked up the pot. “I wonder how a man ever gets past his childhood disappointments.”
“It sounds as if you’ve made a good first step.” Beatrice spoke as if she bore no grudge toward him, as if Bill were any old customer. “We all have a heavenly Father watching over us.”
“I don’t buy into all that religious rigmarole.”
“Oh, I see.” She ran her tongue across her upper lip. “Say, not that you’ve asked for my suggestions, but there’s a group called Al-Anon for people whose lives are affected by someone else’s drinking. An Al-Anon group uses one of our church’s meeting rooms a couple of times a week, but you don’t need to be Catholic or any religion to attend it. They meet all over the place.”
“Anyone I might know go to them?”
“All is kept strictly confidential, so I have no idea.” She deadheaded a flower in his pot and flicked it aside. “Take those flowers home, and tell your woman you love her. You’ll find her sweeter too.”
I was impressed with Beatrice’s forthrightness. And Stephen’s brave and generous act made me appreciate him all the more. No wonder Glenn trusted him with his business. It seemed I was the only one in a whirlpool of indecision.
Watching Bill leave, thoughts ping-ponged in my brain. If I married Jake in the near future, I’d have to quit this job and move into his parents’ home, leaving the café without a manager. If I married Stephen, I could continue to work here, but I’d live as an Englischer, apart from my parents and extended family.
As Beatrice and I exited the greenhouse, I heard a melodious, “Yoo-hoo, Bea, over here.” The Englisch woman wore a quaint little hat that matched her yellow flowered scarf and beige suit.
“Did you forget about me?” She scuf
fled over to us wearing high heels. “I called and called, but when you didn’t answer, I was worried.”
Beatrice’s hands cupped her cheeks. “I forgot. Oh dear, I’m sorry.” She turned to include me. “Viola, I’d like you to meet Eva, who manages the café here.” Beatrice took Viola’s hand and put it in mine. Her nails were polished mauve.
“I’ve made you late for Mass,” Beatrice said.
Viola squinted down at her diminutive wristwatch. “Only a few minutes. Grab a coat and let’s be on our way. Otherwise, you’ll have to go to confession before you can take communion again.”
Beatrice turned to me. “I haven’t even fed the dogs yet.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I’ll take care of everything if you leave the back door unlocked.”
Beatrice passed me a key. “Better take this.” She went into the house and then reemerged wearing a long jacket. Her girlish grin made her look younger. A minute later, Beatrice eased into Viola’s aged boat of a sedan, and they puttered out of the parking lot.
FORTY-NINE
After feeding the ravenous dogs, I left them in the main house. Enjoying my solitude, I skirted the house and the café and made my way to the barn to say hello to Autumn. When she noticed me, her ears stood up tall as a welcome. She bent her head in my direction and made a soft nickering sound. Had she grown fond of me, or was she expecting a treat? I wished I’d brought a carrot, but I could offer her only a scratch where her neck met her withers, a spot she couldn’t reach herself.
Her head jerked, and her ears swiveled back. I heard the sound of hooves as the bishop’s buggy rolled to a stop. Harvey sat for a moment watching me, as if planning what to say.
“Hello.” I smiled and tried to look at ease.
“Wie geht’s?” He got out of his buggy.
“I’m okay, but I overslept. I woke up sneezing and thought I was coming down with a cold. I figured I should avoid people so I wouldn’t spread germs. But my mamm’s herbal tea seems to have knocked it out.”
“Where’s your kapp?”
My hands flew up to cover my hair. I was relieved to feel the scarf, shabby as it was. “Ach, my kapps need pressing.” My excuse sounded lame even to me.
“Go back to your cabin and collect a wrinkled kapp. We’ll take it to my house. One of my dochders will heat up the iron.”
“Would that not be considered asking her to work on the Sabbath?”
One brow raised as he looked down on me, the way I guessed he conveyed to his daughters they were being silly. “We can’t have you spending the rest of the day looking like that. Now come along, and I’ll take you to meet my family.”
He must have noticed my reluctance because he said, “Don’t worry. I’m a cautious driver. You’ll get back here safely.”
I couldn’t refuse his offer. After all, Harvey was a bishop, not a casual friend. I dashed to my cabin to find the cleanest kapp that wasn’t too badly creased. In fact, when I set it on my head, it looked halfway decent. But not good enough to be escorted around the county by a bishop.
He took my hand and helped me climb into his buggy. “Since it’s a visiting Sunday in this district, is there anyone else you wish to see?”
“Eventually, I’d like to check on how Amos is doing. But I could use a phone to call the hospital.”
“Later we can arrange that. I spoke to Olivia’s parents this morning about her helping Ruth and Amos when he gets back home. They promised to pray about it and let us know.”
“Oh, gut. I’m glad.”
I’d never felt more ill at ease in a buggy. All other Amish drivers craned their necks to see who was perched next to Harvey. He seemed as relaxed as ever and raised a hand to everyone who waved. I endeavored to wear an expression of tranquillity, as if I didn’t notice them.
What had been a gentle breeze gained velocity, tossing the treetops. I looked up to the sky and saw clouds scudding by. It was times like these that I wished I read the weather report in the newspaper or listened to a weatherman on a radio. But nothing to be done about the weather now that I was on my way to Harvey’s. Ach, how easily he’d maneuvered me into his buggy. Or was he simply showing an act of kindness to one of his flock?
When we finally arrived at his home, I was again impressed by its stature and regal architecture. My first thought was that an Englisch man had constructed it. A wealthy man.
“How long has this home been in your family?” I asked.
“During the Great Depression, my grandfather purchased it from a man who was deep in debt. My family removed all the electrical wiring, but we kept everything else pretty much as it was except for the fancy curtains and such. I hope you like it.”
“If the inside’s anything like the outside, I know I will.” I couldn’t hide my awe.
I received a grin in answer to my remark. As Harvey pulled into the barnyard, a young woman—a fair-haired slip of a school-age girl—scurried down the back steps to greet us. She was indeed dressed casually, and she was barefoot.
“This is my youngest dochder, Linda.” Harvey seemed to brim with satisfaction. “Come and meet Eva,” he said to her.
Her eyes lifted, but not up enough to meet mine.
“Happy to meet you,” I said. She seemed to be mouthing words in return.
“Don’t be shy, Linda,” Harvey said to her, but she glanced away. I immediately felt a fondness for her, a warming in my chest. What a dear young teen.
She took hold of her father’s hand, and he patted it before letting go. “Be a gut girl and show Eva into the kitchen.”
“Kumm rei—No, I mean, please, come this way,” she told me. I got the distinct feeling she’d practiced this phrase. I wondered if the girls spoke only Deitsch at home, as I had as a child.
Just inside the kitchen stood willowy Naomi, Linda’s older sister, who also appeared a bit disheveled, much to my surprise. She shook my hand when Harvey announced her name. “Glad ta meet ya.”
“I’m happy to meet you too.” I wondered which girl took after her mamm because they were as different as night and day.
Out of the corner of my eye, I gave Harvey a looking over. Hard to tell what color hair he had as a younger man. “Grizzled” is how I’d describe it now. But he had good posture, and he carried an air of confidence and vigor.
Rapping knuckles on the back door brought Harvey’s daughters to open it. “Mammi! ” they said in unison, enthusiastically welcoming their grandmother. The round-faced, plumpish woman bustled past me carrying a cake pan covered with tinfoil.
“You brought my favorite cake?” Naomi asked.
“Yah. Chocolate with brown sugar frosting. Go ahead and cut it, and then help yourself.”
“Denki! ” Naomi took the pan from her grandma and headed for a rectangular table covered with a red-and-white gingham cloth.
I glanced out the window and saw several buggies and Amish people making their way to the back porch. As they entered the kitchen, Harvey welcomed them by first names.
A woman carrying a Tupperware container entered. “We saw you out in the buggy,” she said. “May we come in?”
“Of course, Abigail. Gut to see you. Come in.” Harvey took the container from her and set it on the table.
“I brought muffins. We had them in the buggy…” Her face flushed.
“Denki for bringing them. We are now officially prepared to entertain today.”
Abigail’s husband removed his hat and placed it on a peg as if he’d been in this room many times. He shook Harvey’s hand, but his gaze was planted on me. Before he could get in a word, more people strolled into the kitchen, several carrying food items. Soon, the kitchen table was a smorgasbord of scrumptious-looking tarts, whoopie pies, cakes, and candies.
In twenty minutes the room was filled with chatter and laughter. I shook many hands and recognized some of the women I’d met at the Schmuckers’ home during the barn raising. I also saw several of my parents’ neighbors, people I’d seen on Sundays before the
district split. I’d only seen them since if they came into the fabric store.
They barraged me with questions about the nursery and the café. “Ach, you’re really the manager?” one woman about my age asked. Several declared they would hire a passenger van and visit the café.
“I can’t imagine our food is better than what you brought.” I nibbled on a chocolate brownie.
“In that case, we’ll each bring you our favorite recipe,” one woman said, and they all agreed. But could they bring me a recipe for a new beginning? How much easier my life would be if I fell head over heels in love with Harvey. But there was no buzz of attraction between us.
“Denki. I’m overwhelmed by your generosity.” I polished off the brownie.
They continued to ask about the café, but I surmised their real questions circumnavigated Harvey’s and my friendship.
This was a visiting Sunday, so I shouldn’t have been surprised people were calling upon their neighbors. But they might have been headed to see relatives and changed their destination the moment they saw Harvey’s buggy on the road with me perched next to him. Curiosity was natural, and in this county they could be Harvey’s relatives or lifelong friends.
Harvey’s daughters brought out plates, flatware, and paper napkins for the growing crowd. Several men gave me a double look and then chatted with Harvey in a way that made me feel as if I were on display. I doubted he’d been talking about me, but others probably had. Well, I knew they’d been gabbing about me for years. I was the wanton woman who’d conceived a child out of wedlock. I was Jake Miller’s girlfriend on the side when he wasn’t out-of-state living as an Englischer. I bet they thought Jake had only come home so he could inherit the farm and be rich if Amos died. And they might be right, for all I knew.
I was ferhoodled when moments later Jake entered, dressed Amish. He removed his hat and shook Harvey’s hand. “I hope you don’t mind my stopping by like this,” Jake said. “Mamm spent the night at the hospital and won’t leave. I offered to take her with me to church, but she doesn’t want to leave my dat for more than a minute.”