Adoring Addie

by Leslie Gould

  He sure seemed to pass by our house a lot. Granted, it was on his way home from work—except for the detour up our lane. Still, I couldn’t imagine anyone as persistent as Phillip, although I certainly hoped Jonathan would be—once he had the chance.

  CHAPTER

  12

  I made chocolate cream pie for dessert that night as a special thank-you to Billy and Danny. With whipped cream dripping down his chin, Joe-Joe asked what happened to the box, and I answered that the boys had put it upstairs.

  Joe-Joe seemed satisfied. Billy and Danny kept their eyes on their slices of pie, seconds for both of them, but no one else seemed to have even heard Joe-Joe’s question. Timothy and Daed were arguing about the workload for the weekend, and Mutter and Aenti Nell were talking about Hannah. After Danny finished, he pushed back his plate.

  “Ach, Addie,” he said. “I just remembered. Hannah telephoned you today. She left a message.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Something about you visiting her. Spending tomorrow night, I think. And then going to church with her on Sunday.” Aenti Pauline and Onkel Owen were in a district to the north of us.

  Mutter and Aenti Nell stopped talking.

  Mutter’s jaw jutted toward me. “What do you have planned?” Her voice held a hint of suspicion.

  I stood and began collecting dirty plates. “I’m not sure.” Hannah and I hadn’t talked about my spending the night at her house.

  “Addie, we can manage without you.” Aenti Nell’s voice sounded upbeat.

  Mutter added, “Barely.”

  Aenti Nell winked at me. “You should go.”

  Hannah clearly liked Mervin. That meant there might be a chance I could see Jonathan. Sure, Onkel Bob had told us not to go against our parents’ wishes, but we couldn’t help it if we bumped into each other.

  I put the dishes in the sink and turned back toward the table. “Mutter? What do you think?”

  Aenti quickly added, “It would be good for Hannah.”

  Mutter crossed her arms on top of the table, grasping her elbows. “I suppose . . .”

  “Go give her a call,” Aenti Nell said. “The boys can clear the table.”

  Timothy sprang to his feet. “I have work to do.”

  Billy and Danny groaned.

  Joe-Joe climbed from his chair and grabbed his own plate. “I’ll help,” he said. “I like doing the dishes.” Sure he did. Standing on a chair and splashing water around was an adventure, not a chore.

  “Denki, Joe-Joe,” I said. “I’ll be right back to help.”

  At least spending the night with Hannah would give me something to look forward to—besides filling the hope chest that was now in my bedroom.

  After I left a message for my cousin, I put away the food the boys had piled up on the counter and then rinsed and dried the dishes Joe-Joe was washing. Next I spent an hour outside weeding the garden, and then I read Joe-Joe and Billy three library books, tucked them into bed, and started to close their door gently behind me.

  Finally, it was time to fill my hope chest.

  “Addie!” Mutter’s voice startled me, and I ended up yanking the little boys’ door closed with a bang. “Come here a minute.”

  I followed her voice into her room, where her bed was covered with stacks of papers and books. “Help me put these away.” Her fingertips pressed against her temples. “I’m too tired.”

  Several boxes littered the floor.

  “Where did these come from?” I picked up a stack of yellowed notebook paper.

  “My closet.” Red rimmed her eyes.

  It appeared to be a scholar’s papers. I looked more closely. George was written in the upper right-hand corner of the first one. I thumbed through the stack. It was a collection of essays, probably from his eighth grade year.

  “How about if we get rid of these?” I put it in a box and picked up another stack. Sam was written on the top of it. “And these too.”

  “Oh, no,” Mutter said. “I’m saving those.”

  I frowned.

  “Don’t do that,” she said.

  “Do what?”

  “Judge me. Just put all of this back in the boxes on the floor.” She put her hands over her face, muffling her voice. “I want to go to bed.”

  I began scooting stacks of papers into the boxes. “What are you looking for?”

  “Something I saved from when I was a girl.” She spoke through her fingers.

  “Anything in particular?” I asked, looking up at her.

  She shook her head. In another minute, she sat down on the edge of the bed and turned away from me. I finished the job and pushed the boxes up against the wall.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  She shook her head, her eyes on the boxes, but then she said, “Nell was so stubborn. She could have had lots of other suitors. She should have married one of them instead of reminding me every day what she gave up.”

  “Mutter,” I said, stepping closer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Her head jerked up, a puzzled look on her face. “What was I saying?”

  “Something about Aenti Nell not marrying.”

  She shrugged. “It was her choice, jah? No matter what everyone said.”

  “I don’t understand. . . .” I wrinkled my nose.

  Mutter yawned. “That’s just it. I never did either.”

  “Are you all right?” I sat down on the bed beside her and took her hand. My mother could be moody, but this was different. She wasn’t making sense.

  “I’m fine.” She yawned. “Just tired. You go on. Let me go to bed.”

  I told her good-night and left the room, nearly bumping into Aenti Nell in the hall.

  I put my finger to my lips and dragged her down to the end of the landing by the window. “Mutter was just rambling on about you being too stubborn to marry. What was she talking about?”

  Aenti Nell shook her head. “Who knows?” But her words didn’t convince me.

  Since she wouldn’t answer that question, I tried another. “Do you know what she’s searching for? She won’t tell me.”

  Aenti Nell shrugged. “Pauline said something about the letters. That’s what sent your Mamm up to the attic the other day.”

  I kept my voice low. “The letters?”

  “Jah.” Aenti Nell whispered much more loudly than I did. “Pauline asked what the story was way back when, about the letters Dirk sent.”

  I froze. Of course that’s what she was looking for. I managed to say, “Jonathan doesn’t think his father wrote the letters.”

  “Dirk always claimed he didn’t.” Aenti Nell wrinkled her nose. “I wondered at times too.”

  “Once Mutter finds them, we should know more, right? Dirk can look at them and say he didn’t write them. We can figure out who did and put an end to the grudge.”

  Aenti Nell exhaled. “I doubt it will be that simple. Or that she would show them to you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s complicated, jah?”

  I nodded. “But not hopeless.”

  She turned her head toward the window and gazed out over the yard, toward the barn. “Don’t ask her about the letters.”

  I didn’t answer my Aenti. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t, not if the opportunity presented itself. I didn’t tell her I’d told both Mutter and Phillip what my true feelings were, but I did tell her what Onkel Bob had advised. She squeezed my hand. “It will all work out. Just wait and see.”

  Sensing the need to change the topic, I said, “Denki, for getting the boys to carry the hope chest up.”

  “Jah.” She put her hands to her bosom as she continued to look out the window. “It’s beautiful. I’m happy for you.”

  I gave her a quick hug and retreated to my room, closing the door firmly behind me, and then lifted the blanket from the chest. I ran my hands over the smooth wood, stopping at the carving of my name, admiring Jonathan’s work, knowing his thoughts were on me every second as he car
ved it.

  It didn’t take me long to transfer the things I’d been saving from the hamper to the hope chest, breathing in the scent of the cedar lining as I did. I put the first quilt I’d ever made—lap size designed from simple blocks—in first and then the one I’d finished in the spring—a log cabin pattern made from my Bruders’ old shirts. Next I put in pillowcases, sheets, towels, doilies, potholders, and oven mittens, filling the chest halfway.

  As I closed it, there was a knock and Mutter called out my name. I quickly placed the blanket back over the top.

  “Are you in there?”

  I hurried to the door and opened it.

  “I need your help again.” She pointed to the linen closet at the end of the hall. The cupboard doors were wide open and sheets, tablecloths, and towels littered the floor below.

  “I thought you were going to bed.” I followed her toward the closet.

  “I am—now. Would you put that all back in? And reorganize it. It was such a mess I couldn’t stand it any longer.” She seemed sincere, but I couldn’t imagine why it would bother her now when it hadn’t for the last decade. Especially when she’d been exhausted fifteen minutes before.

  She continued on to her room, shuffling along, favoring her bad knee, her skirt shifting back and forth across her hips.

  I refolded each item and then stacked the sheets all together, twins on one side and doubles on the other, along with the pillowcases and then the towels.

  I knew Mutter wasn’t in a cleaning mood. She was definitely looking for something. I could only hope it was the letters and that Aenti Nell was wrong—I still hoped Mutter would be willing to show them to me.

  Saturday after supper Timothy drove me to Hannah’s. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Daed and the older boys—he wouldn’t say anything about their cars as long as they provided rides for the rest of us, when needed. And although I’d sworn off riding with Timothy, I decided, since he hadn’t been drinking, to accept the ride.

  As we drove down the lane, I noted that Nan’s car was at Onkel Bob’s again. I sighed out loud. That meant my Onkel wouldn’t be calling on my parents tonight either.

  Cate stepped onto the porch and began waving.

  “Stop,” I said to Timothy.

  He grimaced but obeyed.

  Cate came running toward the Bronco, to Timothy’s open window. She leaned against the door, speaking to me. “Betsy’s at the hospital. She’s really in labor this time.”

  “Are you going?”

  Cate nodded, her face as bright as I’d ever seen it. “Nan is taking all of us.”

  I was a little surprised to hear that. Technically, because Nan had left the Amish church, none of them should be riding with her, but maybe because she was originally from New York and it was so long ago, the bishop hadn’t given it a thought.

  I shuddered. It wasn’t like me to track that sort of thing—that was something my parents would do. I was certain my Onkel knew what he was doing.

  “I’m praying for Betsy,” I said. “And her Bobli.”

  “Denki.” Cate’s voice gave away her gratitude. I thought of their mother dying after Betsy’s birth and how that must weigh on all of them now.

  Timothy tapped on the steering wheel. “Can we go?”

  Cate patted him on the shoulder. “At least you stopped.” She stepped backward.

  Pete called for her as he walked toward Nan’s car.

  “Let us know when the Bobli comes!” I shouted as Timothy accelerated.

  “I’ll leave a message!” Cate called over her shoulder, jogging toward the car.

  As I offered up a silent prayer, Timothy said, “You should just hang out with me tonight.”

  I didn’t know what made him think I’d want to do that, but I didn’t ask. Instead I said, “I told Hannah I’d come over.”

  “She’s going to the same party I am. We’ll just meet her there.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I’m spending the night with her. I told Mutter and Daed that’s where I was going. She didn’t say anything about a party.” Which was true. I’d just assumed there might be one she planned to go to, if her parents let her.

  “That’s not what I heard,” Timothy said.

  “What did you hear?”

  “That Hannah’s about ready to go stir crazy.”

  “That’s why I’m going over.”

  Timothy smirked and then turned on to the highway, speeding along. “She wants to hang out with Mervin.”

  Everything was working as I’d hoped. Perhaps I’d see Jonathan after all.

  “Those Mosiers are all such losers,” Timothy said. “Especially Jonathan. It’s like he’s from another planet.”

  “He’s an artist.”

  “He’s a sissy.”

  “He’s kind.”

  “He pretends to be.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Don’t be swayed by his acting,” Timothy said. “Phillip might be boring, but Mutter and Daed are right. He’d be much better for you to marry.”

  I crossed my arms.

  “It’s not like you to be so stubborn,” Timothy said.

  “It’s not like you to care about my life,” I shot back.

  He didn’t answer. We rode in silence—me fuming, him taking the curves too fast. He slowed, barely, as we sped through Paradise, then took a sharp turn down the road to Hannah’s farm on the other side of the highway. He slowed as he turned into their drive, past the sign that read Paradise Stables. Onkel Owen trained and boarded horses.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said as he stopped in front of her house.

  “Don’t count on it,” I shot back, opening the car door and darting away from him. He screeched out of the driveway as I hurried up the front steps.

  The house was less than ten years old with a wraparound porch and a wide front door.

  Aenti Pauline answered when I knocked, pointing to the staircase after she said hello. “Go on up,” she said.

  I could hear voices by the time I reached the landing and then all-out laughter by the time I stood at Hannah’s door. She didn’t sound depressed.

  I knocked.

  “Go away!” It was my cousin’s voice all right, but I could scarcely believe her words.

  “Hannah?”

  More laughter. “Sorry!”

  The door swung open, and there stood Molly, brushing her long blond hair, her apron off. Hannah stood behind her, a grin on her face.

  “We thought you were Deborah and Sarah,” she said. “They keep trying to spy.”

  “What are you up to?” I stepped into the room, and Molly pushed the door shut behind me with both her hands.

  “Getting ready.” Hannah lifted her dress to show a pair of jeans, the pants legs rolled up.

  “To go . . . ?”

  “Out.”

  I turned toward my cousin. “Your parents are letting you go to a party?”

  “They think I’m going over to Molly’s.”

  “And me too?”

  “Jah.”

  “Won’t they check with Mutter and Daed to see if it is okay?”

  “Nah,” Hannah said, blushing a little. “I told them we’re not spending the night.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to keep up with the plan.

  “Mervin and Martin are coming to get us,” Molly interjected, scooping her hair up in her hand and twisting it into a bun.

  “In their buggy?”

  “No.” Hannah laughed at me. “They’re borrowing a friend’s car.”

  I knew Mervin and Martin hadn’t joined the church, but I’d never known them to drive. I wondered if they were getting wilder as they grew older—instead of the other way around.

  “Does one of them have a license?”

  “I think Martin does,” Molly said, looking at Hannah as she pinned her hair.

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t know about this,” I said.

  “We’re going over to Jonathan’s,” Hannah said. “To
pick him up.”

  I sat down on her bed. That only made it more complicated. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him, but I did want to be mindful of Onkel Bob’s advice. And I didn’t think bumping into his parents again would help the situation any. “I shouldn’t go,” I said.

  “Why not?” Hannah pulled a tube of mascara out of the top drawer of her bureau.

  “Because I came over here to hang out with you. Remember? You said you were depressed in the message you left and that having me around would help you feel better.”

  Hannah glanced at Molly, who was positioning her Kapp on her head and didn’t seem interested in us in the least. Hannah turned back toward me. “I’m feeling better. Molly’s been here for a couple of hours.”

  “But I can’t come back and spend the night,” Molly chimed in. “My parents want me home.”

  Molly tended to be a go-about—that was for sure. Her parents were old, close to Mammi Gladys’s age, it seemed, and I could see them wanting her at home every once in a while.

  I stood and walked to the window. A sedan turned into the driveway.

  Molly must have heard it because she stepped to my side. “They’re here,” she said, pinning her hair.

  Mervin and Marvin wore baseball caps instead of their straw hats. I guessed they had on Englisch clothes too.

  I could stay at the house with Aenti Pauline or go with Hannah.

  I could stay in the car, in the back seat, when we picked up Jonathan. His parents would never know I was there.

  The good news was, I would get to see him. The bad news was, Timothy was most likely right. We were probably all headed to the same party.

  Mervin, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, stepped into his grandfather’s house as the rest of us waited in the car for Jonathan. A couple of minutes later, Mervin appeared and then stepped into the shop.

  Martin’s voice held a hint of frustration as he spoke. “Jonathan is always late. He gets caught up in his work and forgets everything else.”

  I wondered if he would have lost track of time if he’d known I was coming along. Finally, Mervin appeared, followed by Jonathan, who wore his Amish clothes and dusted his hands off each other as he walked. Then the back door to the house opened and Dirk Mosier appeared, catching up with his son and nephew.