by Leslie Gould
“Where’s Nell?” she asked, as if just realizing she was missing.
“Running an errand,” Mutter answered. “She’ll be here soon.”
She was going to the store to buy some thread, but she also planned to stop by Old Man Mosier’s place. Of course, Mutter didn’t know that.
“Where’s Hannah?” my mother asked.
Aenti Pauline shifted in her chair. “Resting.”
“So early in the morning?” Mutter’s head shot up from her stitching. “What’s the matter with her?”
“She hasn’t been sleeping well,” Pauline answered. “She’ll be down soon.”
My grandmother frowned and then said, “Well, if she didn’t eat so much she wouldn’t be so tired. Five pancakes for breakfast would put anyone to sleep.”
Aenti Pauline didn’t respond.
My mother and her Schwesters had grown up with their mother talking about their weight. Their father had been on the plump side, and they all took after him, my mother even more so than the rest. He’d been a jolly man, though, and used to humor my grandmother. Now that he was gone, she seemed to be growing more sour by the day.
Generally, we Amish women don’t worry about our weight or how we look, at least not compared to Englisch women. We dress the same. Wear our hair the same. Cover our heads. We don’t have to worry about makeup and beauty products. We don’t read magazines with fashion models or watch TV or movies, so we don’t compare ourselves to others the way I’ve heard Englisch women do. But in Mutter’s family, because of pressure from their mother, there was more of an awareness of first being a little plump, then heavy, and then downright overweight.
Aenti Nell stayed plump, probably because she never had the additional stress to her body of having babies. And Aenti Pauline ended up heavy. But Mutter was definitely overweight—and knew it.
Now it seemed Mammi Gladys was starting in on Hannah.
Thanks to Daed’s side of the family, I wasn’t plump at all. It wasn’t that I was skinny, but I was lean and fit. It wasn’t because of how much I did or didn’t eat though. It was just the way I was made.
My grandmother turned to me with the hint of a smile on her face.
It surprised me and I smiled in return.
“I heard you’re sweet on Phillip Eicher,” she said.
My smile vanished. Besides feeling free to speak about people’s weight, she also had no problem being blunt concerning other topics.
I blushed.
“Good family, that one. You couldn’t do better.”
“Jah,” Aenti Pauline said. “I hope my girls will follow your example.” She had seven daughters—from Hannah, the oldest at nineteen, to Maggie, the two-year-old. Deborah—who was four years younger than Hannah because Aenti Pauline had lost a set of twin boys before her and then had some other problems—was next oldest, then Sarah, who was almost thirteen, Katie, Lydia, and Cara. “I hope,” Aenti Pauline continued, “that they’ll do as well as Phillip Eicher.”
“Well, they won’t,” Mammi Gladys said, “if you don’t rein Hannah in now.” She blinked hard as her eyes locked on my Aenti’s. “They’ll all follow her example.”
“Now, don’t start on that,” Aenti Pauline said. “You’ve said your piece—more than once.” She pushed back her chair and stood. It was obvious the subject had been discussed before.
“Where are you going?” Mammi Gladys asked.
“To check on the little girls.” They were jumping on the trampoline out in the side yard with Joe-Joe. Billy had stayed home to help Daed.
Mammi Gladys said, “Have Sarah check.”
Both Deborah and Sarah had joined us for the quilting frolic, but so far they hadn’t said a word. They were both ones to listen and take everything in—and were so quiet that the older women usually forgot they were around. At the mention of her name, Sarah’s head popped up and the look on her face was one of concern, as if she were in trouble.
“Go,” our grandmother said to her.
“No,” Aenti Pauline said. “I’m doing it.”
As Aenti Pauline headed for the back door she shot my Mutter a desperate look. I wondered if she expected sympathy. I was pretty sure, inside, Mutter was gloating. It was as if she’d totally forgotten my declaration about Jonathan the day before. Mutter’s powers of denial, a term I’d learned from Cate, were incredible. That, or Aenti Nell must have done a convincing job assuring Mutter and Daed that in no time I’d lose interest in Jonathan.
Mammi Gladys must have sensed Mutter’s smugness. “How are those boys of yours doing?” I did not want the conversation to turn to my Bruders.
“Joe-Joe’s outside with the girls.”
“I mean your older ones. Why didn’t you tell me Samuel and George moved into a trailer?” Mammi Gladys kept stitching, her eyes on the quilt as she spoke. “I heard it from Hannah’s friend Molly.” I could imagine how badly that encounter embarrassed my grandmother.
Before Mutter answered, Aenti Pauline came through the back door with little barefoot Maggie high on her hip. My youngest cousin wore a miniature apron, a Schatzlin, and a Kapplin. Underneath, her blond hair, too fine to stay in a bun, was in two thin braids. Her chubby hands rested on Aenti Pauline’s shoulders. My Mutter said Aenti Pauline, because she’d lost the set of twins and then wasn’t sure she’d ever have more children, babied her girls, which wasn’t the Amish way. Children were valued but never idolized. I thought Mutter was wrong, but still, Aenti Pauline looked at little Maggie as if she was a miracle, perhaps one who could, at least at this moment, do no wrong.
“Laurel,” Mammi Gladys said. “I asked about Samuel and George.”
Mutter sighed. “They’re fine. They’re both working.” Mutter shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell.” I knew she was trying to put up a good front.
Aenti Pauline, who was usually sweet, said, snidely, “Offspring reflect their parents, jah? Your boys are taking after Cap’s wild ways.”
Mutter’s voice fell in volume. “You’re carrying this one awfully low. Perhaps he’ll be a boy. And then you’ll have to eat your words.” The story was that Aenti Pauline’s husband, Onkel Owen, had quite a running around time too.
Aenti Pauline looked as if she’d been struck. I’d had no idea she was expecting another Bobli, and by the look on Deborah and Sarah’s faces, they didn’t either.
Pauline didn’t say another word and headed down the hall with Maggie. But Mutter had successfully deflected the topic from her husband and sons, and a slight smile spread over her face as she concentrated on her stitches.
Seconds later, however, Mammi Gladys tenaciously took up the topic again. “Speaking of the father of your unruly sons, I heard Cap’s old friend Dirk Mosier is back.”
At the mention of Jonathan’s father, I glanced at Mammi Gladys out of the corner of my eye, trying my best to be inconspicuous.
“I wouldn’t know,” Mutter said.
“Oh? Well, does Nell know?”
I inhaled sharply. What did Aenti Nell have to do with Dirk Mosier?
“Dirk is married, remember? For the last twenty or so years.”
“Of course I remember,” Mammi Gladys said. “I was just wondering what Nell’s reaction was to him moving back to the old Mosier place.”
“Why don’t you ask her?” Mutter said.
My grandmother snorted, sounding a lot like Timothy.
Mutter didn’t respond, and the rest of us stayed quiet until Hannah entered the room and broke the silence. A strand of hair she hadn’t bothered to secure fell against her face, and her steps were slow, as if she had to work at keeping her balance.
“It’s about time,” Mammi Gladys said.
My Mutter surprised me by considerately asking, “How are you feeling, Hannah?” Mutter, with her own problems with insomnia, actually appeared somewhat sympathetic to my cousin’s plight.
“Fine.” Hannah settled into the empty chair beside me.
I patted her arm and handed her a needle that ha
d already been threaded. She took it from me, holding it in midair for a moment before plunging it into the penciled-in outline on the fabric.
Aenti Pauline came back into the kitchen from down the hall, still carrying her littlest one. “Deborah, take Maggie back outside.”
Deborah responded straightaway, standing and taking the child in her arms.
After they left, Aenti Nell arrived. She was wearing her best blue dress and a Kapp, which I didn’t see her in much since around the house she wore her old dresses and kerchiefs. Her face was flushed and her eyes bright. Her dimples flashed when she saw me.
I couldn’t help but smile back and hope I’d soon know what she’d found out at the Mosier place. I pulled up another chair for her, in between Hannah and me, just in case Aenti would be able to talk, but she didn’t try, which was probably wise.
The morning progressed uneventfully, and I did my best to concentrate on my stitching, half listening to the others. Mammi Gladys gossiped about their new neighbors, an Amish couple with ten children between the ages of twenty-two and ten. They’d moved to Lancaster County from Canada.
“Those kids of theirs are hog-wild,” she said. “The oldest boy came home with a car yesterday. I could hear the mother screeching at him clear over in our backyard.”
Mutter didn’t respond, and Mammi Gladys kept talking.
“Joseph and I wouldn’t allow it. I don’t know what’s wrong with parents these days that they just don’t say no.”
Some people might have intervened at this point, telling Mammi Gladys to be more considerate of my mother. The truth was, because Mammi Gladys never had a boy, she couldn’t know what it was like to raise a bushel of them. Sure, sometimes a girl raised Amish bought a car, but it was mostly the boys. The running around years seemed to offer more temptations for Plain boys than girls.
When Aenti Pauline got up to start setting out the lunch things, a wave of relief passed over me. Finally I’d be able to speak to Aenti Nell. But once the sandwiches were made, Pauline sent Hannah and me outside to help the little ones with their lunch.
Afterward, I settled Joe-Joe down on the couch for a nap, and by the time I rejoined the women, Mammi Gladys was ready to go out to her Dawdi Haus to rest. “I expect to hear about your wedding being published soon,” she said to me. Then she turned to Hannah. “No matter what your parents allow, you need to stop running around. You hear? That’s not the way to find a good husband.”
Hannah pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. As much as it was the Amish way to have grandparents live with one of their children, I felt sorry for Aenti Pauline’s girls to have Mammi Gladys around all the time.
If I didn’t have so many Bruders, she might have moved in with us.
Mutter surprised me by standing and saying she thought we should go too. “It’s too hot,” she said, dabbing at her neck with her apron. “I need to go rest too.”
I pretended to concentrate on my work. “Could I keep quilting and go home with Nell?”
“Why?” Mammi Gladys turned toward me from the doorway. “You haven’t done more than ten stitches the whole time you’ve been here.”
I did my best not to be defensive. “Well, that’s why I should stay. To earn my keep for the day.”
Mutter shook her head. “I don’t feel well. Come along.”
“What about Joe-Joe? He just fell asleep.”
Mutter turned toward Nell.
“I’ll take him,” my Aenti said. “I won’t be long.” But she seemed so engrossed in her quilting that I wasn’t sure she even remembered she needed to talk with me.
In the buggy on the way home, Mutter didn’t speak at all. As I drove, she closed her eyes, her head bobbing along to the beat of the horse’s hooves, until we heard the clopping of a horse’s hooves behind us. She turned on the bench seat.
“It’s Phillip,” she said.
“Shouldn’t he be at work?”
Mutter swatted her hand toward me. “He said he might come by today.”
I groaned inwardly, but the expression on my face must have given me away.
“Addie.” She shifted on the bench and glared at me. “What has gotten into you?”
I forced my face to slacken, hoping she wouldn’t persist in her questioning. Obviously she hadn’t taken me seriously yesterday.
Cate and Pete stood at the edge of their garden, chatting as we passed by. They waved and I waved back, but Mutter stared straight ahead. I let her out near the back door and then went alone to the barn, except that Phillip stayed right behind me instead of parking his buggy at the front of the Haus, where our visitors usually did.
“I’ll do the unhitching,” he called out. “I think your mother needs some help.”
“Denki,” I said, shading my eyes. Sure enough Mutter was sitting on the bottom step to the back door, waving at me, her face beet red.
By the time I reached her, she had calmed down some. “I twisted my knee. Get me into the house. I’ll rest on the couch for a while. You go on with Phillip.”
“Go on where?” I asked as she clutched my arm and I helped her stand. But I knew. He wanted to take me to the farm he hoped to buy. I’d forgotten all about him mentioning it at Molly’s market.
Instead of answering me, Mutter winced as we made our way up the steps. Finally she said, “He’ll tell you.”
The day had grown even worse. But maybe it would get better if I told Phillip how I felt about him—I cared about him, jah, as a person, but I couldn’t continue this façade of courting.
But if I told him, he would tell my parents, who would then grow even more suspicious of Jonathan.
I pushed open the back door and guided my mother inside. It would be best, for now, if I followed Aenti Nell’s advice and kept my mouth closed.
After I settled Mutter on the couch, I ventured back outside. Phillip ambled toward me, a grin on his face. “Today’s the day.”
“Oh?” I shaded my eyes against the burning sun, pretending to have no idea what it might be.
“To tour the farm.”
Obviously, since Mutter already knew about this, I didn’t need to tell her where I was going. Still, I glanced toward the house.
“We won’t be gone long,” Phillip said.
Even though we lived in different districts, our farm was on the edge of the boundary and not far from Phillip’s home—and his prospective farm.
“Come on,” he said, reaching for my hand. Thinking I might as well get the visit over with, I moved quickly down the steps, as if I didn’t realize his intention.
By the time I reached his buggy, he was right behind me. Stepping to my side, he extended his hand again. I took it and scampered up, releasing it as soon as I could.
We rode in silence down the lane until another buggy forced Phillip to pull to the side and stop.
It was Aenti Nell with Joe-Joe curled up on the seat beside her. My Aenti slowed her buggy, a surprised expression on her face. “Where are you going?”
“To see my farm,” Phillip announced.
She looked straight at me. “I thought we were going to talk.”
I nodded. “We are. As soon as I get back.”
She pursed her lips, clucked her tongue, and started the horse on its way without saying good-bye.
Phillip didn’t comment on her odd behavior and most likely hadn’t noticed as he urged his horse along. We didn’t talk the rest of the way. I mulled over Aenti Nell’s strange response. She appeared as alarmed as I felt about my going off with Phillip.
Already hot and sticky after the ride from Aenti Pauline’s, I was now very uncomfortable as sweat trickled down the back of my knees.
Thunderclouds billowed on the horizon. We needed a good fall of rain to break the heat.
Phillip sat statue-still, staring straight ahead. As we passed his farm, his mother waved from the clothesline, where she was adding a tablecloth to a row she’d already pinned. Phillip nodded as we passed by, and I offered up a half wave. At the end
of the Eicher’s yard, the bishop was pushing an old gas-powered mower. He didn’t notice us as we passed.
A minute later we turned down the next lane.
The rambling barn came into view first. Its corrugated tin roof needed repair, the exterior needed a fresh coat of paint, and the silo beside it seemed to lean a little to the left. A small group of dairy cows huddled around the barn door, ready to be milked.
“The herd’s included,” Phillip said.
The lane curved, and a large Haus came into view. It needed painting and roof work too, but the structure looked sound.
Phillip said, “There’s room for lots of kids.”
My face grew even warmer than it had been, and the hollow feeling returned at the thought of being intimate with him. I didn’t respond.
Phillip stopped the buggy at the hitching rail in front of the house, jumped down, and tied the horse. I jumped down before he could come help me.
“Hello,” a voice called out.
I startled.
“Over here.” An old woman, stooped and wrinkled, shuffled toward us from the garden, a basket full of greens looped over her arm.
Phillip stepped toward her, offering to take her basket, but she shook her head and held onto it tightly. Phillip turned back toward me. “Addie, this is Elsie Lehman,” he said.
She smiled, showing several gaps in her teeth. “So you’re going to have a look-see?” she said to me.
I nodded, feeling like a fraud.
“It’s a gut place,” she said. “Although in need of more than we can give it now.”
I glanced around.
“A little work will do the trick,” Phillip said.
Elsie motioned for us to look around. “Mister’s in the barn,” she said. “Make sure he knows you’re here.” She stepped toward the porch. “Before you leave, knock on the door and look around the house too.”
After saying hello to Mr. Lehman, Phillip showed me around the barn and the corncrib, and then led the way to the chicken coop, then the pasture, and back to the garden. He talked nonstop as we marched along, spewing his ideas for each structure and site, elaborating on each task he had in mind.