Adoring Addie

by Leslie Gould

  Along the way, I kept encouraging him to keep moving.

  “If we’re going to look at the house,” I finally said, “we should go now. I need to get home and start dinner.”

  I followed him up the steps to Elsie’s back door. After he knocked, she opened it immediately and welcomed us in, where it was even hotter than outside. I knew older people didn’t mind the heat as much, but the interior of the house was stifling. The smell of kraut, an odor I didn’t usually mind when it wasn’t so hot, added to the suffocating atmosphere.

  The spotless room was small, and there was only one cabinet. The stove was propane, and I didn’t see a refrigerator. A tiny table without any leaves sat in the center of the room.

  I took several shallow breaths and leaned against the doorframe, trying to fill the empty feeling growing inside of me.

  I could see into the living room from the kitchen. And down the hall.

  “There are two bedrooms and a bathroom on the main floor,” the woman said. “And two more bedrooms upstairs.”

  “A bedroom for us,” Phillip said. “And three more for our children. We’ll build on when we need to.” He smiled at me.

  “I need to go,” I whispered. The air in the room was so thick I could hardly breath.

  “But we haven’t seen everything.”

  I pointed to Elsie’s clock on the wall. It was a quarter past four. “I need to feed everyone in an hour.”

  Phillip let out a sigh and said good-bye to Elsie.

  “We’re looking forward to turning our home over to a young couple,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “I’m sure you’ll be as happy here as we’ve been.”

  I thanked her and numbly followed Phillip out to the buggy. Getting out of the house brought a little relief but not much. By the time Phillip turned onto the highway, I was damp from a cold sweat, ill at the way I was leading him on.

  As we rode home he rambled on again about what a great property it was. He was right, it was a nice place. The sick feeling made its way up to the back of my throat.

  “It’s what I’ve always dreamed of,” he said. “To have a farm close to my parents’.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “And we’ll be close to yours too,” he said.

  I swallowed hard.

  He chattered on the rest of the way until we approached a tall man carrying a fishing pole and whistling.

  My heart sped. It was Jonathan. I waved as we passed by. And I looked back to see Jonathan smiling and waving back. He motioned toward the creek. I blushed and shook my head. There was no way I could get away before dinner, during dinner, or after dinner. Perhaps after my parents were in bed, but I doubted Jonathan would still be fishing by then.

  Phillip snorted. “That’s Mervin and Martin’s cousin, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Wasn’t he at your place? Playing volleyball?”

  I nodded again, wondering if Phillip was playing dumb. Or maybe he hadn’t been as aware of Jonathan as I’d been. Perhaps he would have been that possessive of me regardless of whom we’d been playing against.

  “He doesn’t seem very serious, not like he should be. And I hear he’s artistic—too much so. My Dat’s concerned he’s pushing the Ordnung with his carvings.” That was the unwritten code that governed every aspect of our lives, from what we wore to the work we did.

  “Oh?” I tried to keep my voice even. “Doesn’t he sell mostly to the Englisch?”

  “Still . . . he shouldn’t be overdoing it with the fancy work.”

  I didn’t respond. Phillip began talking about the farm again, how he planned to put in a new fence as soon as he could and then paint the barn. “The other buildings can wait,” he said, “for a year or so.”

  When we reached our house, I told him he could let me off. “There’s no need to come in,” I said.

  “Then I’ll see you soon,” he answered.

  He turned his buggy around as I walked up the steps. I spun around and waved, doing my best to be polite, and then opened the back door, stepping into the kitchen.

  When I reached the counter, I slumped against it.

  “Are you all right?” Mutter asked from the end of the table.

  “I’m not feeling well.” I pressed my hand to my side.

  “Lovesick?” She laughed.

  “No. Dehydrated, I think.” I turned on the tap, retrieved a glass from the cupboard, filled it, and then downed it.

  “Where’s Aenti Nell?” I asked.

  “Resting. Until dinner.”

  I’d have to wait even longer to find out what she’d learned at the Mosiers’.

  I drained another glass of water, deciding as I did to make taco salad for dinner. Daed liked that sort of meal even less than spaghetti—said it wasn’t a “man’s meal.” But it was the best I could come up with. The kitchen was too hot, and I was too tired and distraught to do anything else.

  CHAPTER

  8

  It wasn’t until I had the little boys in bed that Aenti Nell and I finally had a chance to talk. Daed had lit the lamp in the kitchen so Mutter could see as she wrote out one of her lists.

  “Come help me with my oven mitts, Addie,” Aenti Nell called out from the sewing room. “You can do the price tags.”

  I left the door open behind me, but we moved our chairs to the far corner of the warm room. All the windows were open, in anticipation of the coming rain. The sky was entirely gray, but still no precipitation had fallen.

  Aenti Nell had changed back into a work dress and her kerchief. She handed me a stack of mitts, the price tags, and a ballpoint pen.

  “The usual?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  She sold them at a friend’s shop during the summer tourist months and had been charging seven dollars per oven mitt for as long as I could remember.

  As I worked, she leaned forward and spoke softly. “So, I talked to Old Man Mosier. He agrees this grudge has gone on long enough. He says he can’t even remember what it was all about.” Her eyes twinkled. “So I didn’t remind him. I told him that you and Jonathan had met. He wanted to know all about you. I said you were friends with Mervin and Martin, but Jonathan was the one who interested you.”

  I blushed, something I’d been doing a lot lately.

  “Anyway, then he got up and told me to follow him. So I did.” She paused.

  “And?”

  “He took me out to the shop, where Jonathan’s been working.”

  “Was he there?”

  “No,” Aenti Nell said. “He was off on a delivery, but my, oh my.”

  “What?”

  “He’s good. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She leaned away from me for emphasis and stopped talking.

  “Do tell.”

  She whispered, “Well, it’s all a little fancy but very beautiful.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “And good, really good.”

  “How so?”

  “He adds little embellishments. The mantels have a design carved into them. So do the hope chests. Mostly flowers but some trees. A few with stars and moons.”

  I smiled, remembering his words.

  Aenti Nell said, “I can see what you like about him.”

  I sighed.

  “He’s gifted, jah, with his work,” she said. “But it’s more than that. He’s sensitive. Caring. You can see that in his work too. And the way he talked about you.”

  The pen clattered to the floor. “What?”

  “He came back while I was still there.” Aenti Nell’s eyebrows shot up, and her eyes brightened even more.

  My heart raced as I picked up the pen. “What did he say?”

  “That he’s never met anyone like you. That you’re the kind of girl he’s always wanted to marry. That he can think of nothing but you.”

  I gasped as I straightened up, clasping the pen.

  “Jah.” Aenti Nell grinned at me. “You can’t marry Phillip. Not when you have someone who adores you the way Jona
than does. To be loved is one thing—to be adored, that’s more than most people can ever hope for.” She had a faraway look in her eyes.

  “What did his grandfather say?”

  She focused on me again. “He slapped him on the back and said, ‘You are blessed.’”

  “Ach.” I knew then I would adore his Dawdi. “What about his parents?”

  Aenti Nell’s face fell. “They’ve gone back to Big Valley for a few days to settle some things and put their land up for sale. Then they’ll return.”

  “What did the grandfather think their response would be?”

  She shook her head. “Not good. He said Dirk will absolutely forbid any sort of relationship. And . . .” She hesitated.

  “Go on,” I urged.

  “Amos . . . Mervin and Martin’s—”

  “Dat.” I knew.

  “Jah.” She frowned. “He stopped by while I was there. Seems he’d heard about you and Jonathan being together at the barbecue.”

  I groaned. “Will he say something to Jonathan’s parents?”

  “I don’t know,” Aenti Nell said. “He seemed torn as far as what he should do. He said he wanted the grudge to end too, but he’s worried about the way Timothy’s been treating Mervin and Martin. He wants that to stop before something happens.”

  No wonder. If I were him I’d be worried too. Timothy was a big problem in all of this. “So what do we do?”

  Aenti Nell wrinkled her nose. “Pray. Talk to someone who can give you good advice—both about stopping Timothy and about your relationship with Jonathan.”

  “Such as?”

  “How about your Onkel Bob?”

  I pondered that idea a moment. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to sway Jonathan’s parents, but he might have some influence over my Daed and Amos—and Mervin and Martin. “Did you mention Onkel Bob’s name to Jonathan?”

  “Jah, I did. He said he’d talk with you about it. He hoped to tonight.”

  “I saw him headed to the creek to fish this afternoon.” I didn’t bother explaining I thought he wanted to see me there.

  “He said he’d stick around until late, in case you can sneak away.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. I could tell him about the letters his Dat had written my Mutter all those years ago. And we could make a plan to talk with Onkel Bob and ask for his help. The smile stayed on my face until I remembered what Mammi Gladys had said about Nell being interested in Dirk’s return.

  “I have a question for you,” I said.

  She stuck a couple of pins in her mouth as she nodded.

  “Mammi wondered today if you knew Dirk Mosier had moved back to the old Mosier place.”

  Aenti Nell wrinkled her nose.

  “Why would she ask that?”

  She pursed her lips around the pins.

  “Aenti Nell?” I whispered.

  Her eyes clouded over as she shook her head. Then she turned away from me and pawed through a stack of quilt squares on the table.

  “What is it?”

  The back of her kerchief shook a little.

  “Are you all right?”

  Her head nodded up and down as a knock rapped against the kitchen door. In my hopeful state, I imagined it being Jonathan, coming boldly to the house to ask for me.

  But then Mutter called out, “Phillip! What are you doing here?”

  Aenti Nell turned back toward me, the pins still in her mouth, as a wave of panic seized me. I sat frozen, unable to move. Why had he come back?

  “I was hoping to speak with Addie,” Phillip said, his voice low and somber.

  “Oh goodness, it’s late,” Mutter replied. Of course she was only trying to appear to be concerned. She didn’t care how late it was.

  “I won’t be long,” Phillip answered.

  I thought of Jonathan going down by the creek. Surely he wasn’t still there.

  “She’s in the sewing room.” Mutter’s chair shifted on the wood floor. “Addie!”

  “Go,” Aenti Nell whispered. “Say you’re tired. He knows you’ve had a busy day.”

  She nudged me to my feet, and I managed to make it across the sewing room, out to the kitchen.

  “There she is!” Mutter announced, as if Phillip couldn’t see.

  I stopped in the doorway, feeling as hollow as the sycamore tree my little Bruders played in.

  Mutter laughed. “Look, she’s so smitten the cat’s got her tongue.” She tilted her head and smiled at me, then added, “I have to say, my heart still stops at times when I look at Cap, but I’m never at a loss for words.”

  I cringed. I certainly didn’t feel my heart stop around Phillip. Right now it was more like it had crawled out of my chest, leaving an empty spot.

  But I hadn’t felt my heart stop with Jonathan either. It was as if it had felt content for the first time in my life. Safe. Like it had finally found a home.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?” Phillip stood by the back door, his arms crossed.

  I couldn’t speak.

  “Go along before the storm starts,” Mutter said. “Go show him the garden. The celery patch in particular.”

  I willed her to be quiet. Some Amish families planted more celery if they expected a wedding the coming year, because many of our traditional dishes called for the late vegetable. Mother had actually made me plant more in the spring. I should have known she was up to something then.

  Phillip opened the door for me, and I slipped through first and down the steps. He caught up though and led the way—but not toward the garden, toward the creek.

  “There are mosquitoes down there,” I stammered. “How about if we go this way?”

  I headed toward the orchard. “Why did you come back?” I asked.

  “I’d gone to the gas station to fill up my Dat’s can—he ran out earlier.”

  “Oh?” I still didn’t understand.

  “I ran into Timothy, gassing up his car.” Phillip yanked a blade of tall grass from a clump along the lane.

  “Oh.” This time it wasn’t a question.

  “He told me something that I can’t believe. That’s why I needed to see you.” He led the way along the trail. I followed, feeling like a traitor walking the same route as I had with Jonathan just two nights before, wondering now if perhaps Jonathan was below us along the creek, able to hear every word we said.

  “Is Timothy trustworthy?” Phillip twirled the long blade of grass through his fingers.

  “It depends,” I answered.

  Phillip gripped the grass, holding it still now. “I don’t think he is.”

  I fell another step behind. “What did he tell you?”

  “That you’re interested in someone else.” He stopped and turned to look at me, his expression full of pain.

  “Ach, Phillip,” I said, overcome with compassion. “I never meant to . . .” My voice trailed off as I thought of Aenti Nell’s warning.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  “But your Mamm and Daed like me a lot.” He dropped the blade of grass.

  “Jah, they do. And it’s not that I don’t like you. But not enough to spend the rest . . .” Again my voice trailed off.

  A puzzled expression settled on his face. “What are you saying?”

  My brow wrinkled, and I clasped my hands together.

  He whispered, “Addie, every couple is bound to have a spat or two.”

  The word couple echoed in my head. This was my fault. I had led him on, as a sort of backup. I’d wanted so badly to get away from home—and please my parents—that I’d allowed myself to use him.

  And going to the farm with him when I knew I had no intention of ever marrying him had only compounded things.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “But the other day your Dat said you are as fond of me as I am of you.”

  “I am fond of you. . . .” That was when it hit me. He didn’t love me either. Sure, he was fond of me because he wanted a hardworking wife. But he didn’t want me any more than I
wanted him. He just hadn’t realized it yet.

  I took a deep breath as I opened the gate and held it for Phillip. He took it from me, motioning for me to go first, brushing his arm against me. I flinched, realizing I hadn’t known until being with Jonathan what I felt for Phillip—nothing. At least nothing that would build a marriage and a life together.

  I waited until he hooked the latch to say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be dishonest.”

  He shook his head. “I think you just have cold feet. That’s normal too.”

  I wrinkled my nose. More thunder crashed, but this time closer.

  “This Jonathan has nothing to offer you. No job. No farm. Only a struggling business. You’ll come to your senses, jah?” He nodded solemnly.

  I took a second deep breath and this time held it for a moment, trying to find the words I needed as more lightning flashed across the darkening sky.

  I heard a splash below us in the creek, but Phillip didn’t seem to notice it. “It’s late,” I said, turning back toward the house, tearing ahead of Phillip. I hoped Jonathan had hooked a fish—not fallen into the creek—and was going to head home to beat the storm.

  “So all is well, then?” Phillip called out, struggling to keep up with me.

  I marched faster, calling over my shoulder, “Not in the way you hope.”

  He didn’t respond for half a second, but as his steps gained on me, said, “But you could, jah? All you need is a little time?”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s not it at all.” Hadn’t he heard a word I’d said?

  He was beside me now, his face contorting just a little, but then he seemed to rally. “Ach,” he said, “don’t be so pessimistic.”

  Feeling as if he’d just knocked the air out of me as I reached the garden, I opened my mouth to respond when Timothy’s Bronco came barreling down the lane.

  Someone was in the passenger seat. Relieved it wasn’t Danny, I strained to see who it was in the waning light. Timothy stopped just before the garden, and the passenger door popped open. Hannah climbed out, her Kapp pushed back on her head.

  Her red-rimmed eyes met mine. “Can I spend the night?”

  “Jah,” I answered, alarmed. “Do your parents know where you are?”

  She shook her head.

  “We should tell them.”