Adoring Addie

by Leslie Gould

  In the long run, the sequence of events didn’t matter. Perhaps this too was, as Hannah had pointed out, inevitable when it came to what I couldn’t control in my life. Or as Mutter believed, fate had destined it to happen.

  No one was around, not even the little boys to run out to greet us, when Aenti Nell and I arrived back at the house. She stopped the buggy, handed me the reins, and stepped down. “Go take care of the horse,” she said. “I need to go cool off.” She waved her hand in front of her face as she turned toward the house.

  I urged the horse forward.

  Aenti Nell stopped halfway to the back door and pointed toward an object on the lawn, beyond the courtyard. “What is that?”

  I gasped. It was my hope chest. “Help me get it back in my room,” I said, setting the brake and then jumping down from the buggy.

  The front door screen banged, and Aenti Nell’s face fell.

  Mutter marched down the steps, yelling, “Leave it there.” She continued on once she reached the yard, straight toward me. “How dare you take such a gift from him,” she said. “And after we forbade you to see him.”

  Without answering, I rushed to the side of the hope chest.

  “Don’t touch it,” Mutter said.

  Aenti Nell stepped between the two of us. “Laurel, it’s only a wooden box. Addie’s wanted one for years.”

  “She has mine.”

  “That’s just it,” I said. “It’s yours.”

  From the barnyard, Daed called out, “Addie, leave it be.”

  Aenti Nell nodded at me, turning to whisper, “Do as they say.”

  I stared at it, longingly. “What did you do with my things?”

  “They are in the hope chest in your room. The one we wanted you to have.” She shook a finger at me. “You leave this one alone—it’s right where I told Timothy to put it. I’ll have him move it in the morning.”

  “Where?”

  “Back to the Mosier place.”

  “They’re gone,” I said. “Except for Jonathan’s Dawdi.”

  Her face twitched, as if she couldn’t decide whether to smile or frown. “Well then, it seems our troubles are over. You’ll never see him again.”

  I took a deep breath but didn’t respond.

  She turned then, toward the house, and marched back the way she’d come, her arms swinging back and forth as she limped along. Aenti Nell followed Mutter.

  On the porch, Billy and Joe-Joe peered through the slats of the railing. Behind them, at the door, stood Timothy, his arm still in the sling. I wondered if he’d taken it off to carry the chest down. A shadow passed over Billy’s face and he turned away from me. Mutter must have made him help. Perhaps Timothy had been able to manage with one arm and a conscripted ten-year-old.

  Poor Billy. It went against his nature, I knew.

  I sat down on top of the chest, rubbing my hand over the wood, again.

  From the barn, Daed said to someone, “Leave her alone.” He was either talking to Danny or George, whose pickup was still parked in the driveway.

  I stayed put. Daed didn’t say anything to me when he headed toward the house a half hour later. Not too long after that, both George and Danny sauntered toward me, stopping and positioning their backs to the house when they reached me.

  I turned to George and whispered, “Will you help me get this over to Cate’s tonight? After everyone is asleep?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll help too,” Danny said. “And we’ve come up with a plan to get you out of this mess.” Danny the Dependable glanced up at George. “Haven’t we.”

  My generous brother nodded. “Just wait and see. Everything is going to be all right.”

  That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I stood by my open French doors waiting to see the lights of George’s pickup coming down the lane. Ten o’clock passed. Then eleven. At eleven twenty, thunder crashed in the distance, then again a few minutes later, much closer. The smell of rain and ionized oxygen filled the air coming through the doors.

  I needed help—now. I tiptoed down the hall to the older boys’ room, eased open the door, and made my way to Danny’s bed. He was sleeping on his stomach, one arm dangling over the bed. I shook his bare shoulder.

  Lightning flashed, sending a bolt of light through the window, followed by another peal of thunder. Timothy stirred across the room. I stood statue still.

  After the darkness returned, I shook Danny’s shoulder again. He didn’t stir. Nor did he when I shook him a third time. So much for Danny the Dependable helping me. Or George the Generous. Maybe their intentions were good, but their follow-through was lousy.

  There was no way I could get the hope chest to Cate’s or back up the stairs or even into the house by myself. But I could drag it into the barn.

  Lightning flashed again, this time followed by rain pelting the roof. And then a crash of thunder.

  I fled the room and hurried down the stairs, hoping the beat of the rain would mask the sound of my steps and the door opening. Through the living room, the kitchen, and out the back I hurried, dashing into the pitiless rain barefooted. By the time I reached the hope chest, it was covered with water.

  With rain dripping down my face, I tugged on it, yanking it along the grass. Hopefully in the morning I could scrub the stains from the bottom.

  Another flash of lightning cut through the sky. This time the thunder crashed immediately. I pulled harder as the rain soaked through my dress. Wet hair fell out of my bun and into my face as I jerked the box, as heavy as my grief, along.

  When I reached the barnyard, the going got better, although the soil was already turning to mud and sticking to the bottom. I would have dirty grass stains to scrub in the morning. I’d get up early and see to it before Mutter was out of bed.

  Lightning flashed again—this time in the south field, as the immediate thunder rocked the ground. I began to pull with all my might. Thankfully, the next strike was farther away, to the north.

  When I reached the barn door, I leaned against it. Unlatched, it creaked open.

  I pulled the chest inside, making a screeching noise on the concrete floor. One of the horses snickered. I aimed for the empty stall at the very end. As I moved along, the mules raised their heads and one of them snorted. Ahead a starling fluttered toward the rafters.

  The patter of the rain drummed on the tin roof, masking some of the sound of the wood against the floor. Once I reached the stall, I pulled the chest all the way to the end. Bending down, I rubbed straw from the floor around the sides, hoping to wipe off the mud. But it was too dark to see if I’d succeeded or not. Then I tucked a horse blanket over the top and sides, securing it in the back.

  I latched the barn door behind me and sprinted back to the house. Already as wet as I could be, I stopped before the back porch and held my hands up to the sky, letting the rain fall on my muddy skin. I scrubbed my palms together, but even the downpour wasn’t enough to wash them clean.

  Once in the kitchen, using soap, I washed them properly and then grabbed a dishtowel to dry them, my face, and hair, thinking about what my chances were of rescuing my hope chest.

  Pretty slim, I knew, but it was still worth waking up before the crack of dawn to see what I could do next. There were many things in life I was not willing to fight for. This wasn’t one of them. The hope chest was all I had left, for now, of Jonathan.

  Tears started to flow down my still-damp face. The chances of saving it, at this point, were better than my chances of rescuing my relationship with Jonathan. Grief grasped my heart. Were my earlier words to Hannah worthless? I’d give up the chest in a moment if it meant having a future with Jonathan.

  I stumbled through the house to the stairs and up to my room, thankful for the continuing fall of the rain on the roof. Still crying, I stripped off my dress, pulled my bath towel from the hook on the back of my door, and dried off. Then, after slipping on my nightgown, I crawled into bed, pulling my quilt to my chin. Shivering, I began to sob.

&n
bsp; Why couldn’t my family see what I needed for once? And I didn’t mean the hope chest.

  If they would only recognize Jonathan was best for me, I’d never need anything from them again. But instead I was completely alone. No Jonathan. No support from my parents. No help from my Bruders, who had promised it. Even Aenti Nell had turned her back on me.

  Feeling utterly unloved, I curled in a ball, sure I finally comprehended what Hannah had gone through.

  I awoke late, past six, to rain still falling on the morning of my nineteenth birthday. The endless beating of the drops and the darkened sky had lulled me into thinking it was earlier than it was. I dressed quickly and hurried down the stairs, horrified to find another set of boxes on the table. Mutter was already up and going through more of her junk—but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. Neither was anyone else. I grabbed a slicker from a hook by the back door, wondering why I hadn’t thought of it last night—I must have been more distraught than I’d realized—and rushed out into the rain.

  Maybe everyone had gotten up late. Perhaps Daed and the boys were doing the milking. Maybe Mutter had been up long enough to search another couple of boxes and then had gone back to bed.

  Danny stood in the doorway of the milking barn but turned away when he saw me. My heart raced. Something was up.

  I headed toward the horse barn. As I reached it, the sound of an axe splintering wood rang out, as loud as the thunder from the night before. Feeling sick to my stomach I opened the door and raced over the concrete, slipping on fallen straw but catching myself, then making my way to the last stall as the axe fell again.

  “Stop!” I cried out as I reached the stall.

  Mutter stood with the axe above her head, my destroyed hope chest all around her in bits and pieces.

  “No!” I shouted.

  Her eyes met mine. But instead of the anger I expected, a wave of regret spread across her face.

  “You defied us,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “You were unreasonable.”

  “‘Children, obey your parents.’”

  “‘Parents, provoke not your children.’”

  “I’m done,” she said, lowering the axe toward the floor.

  I stared her down. “So am I.” I didn’t know exactly what I meant, but for a moment, anyway, saying it made me feel better.

  She placed the axe next to the wall, the head against the concrete. “You have dishonored us over and over.”

  I didn’t answer her.

  She stepped through the stall gate and passed me, her rubber-soled shoes making a slight padding noise against the concrete, her gait veering to the left, favoring her bum knee.

  Before she reached the barn door, I stepped into the stall. I didn’t cry this time. I simply knelt and picked up pieces of wood, turning them over and then putting them down until I found the ones with Jonathan’s carving. I found part of the tree. The letter D. Then an E. And the A. I kept looking until I found all the letters of my name. All of the pieces were sharp and jagged with splinters on the sides and ends, in contrast to the varnished fronts. I made a basket with my apron and loaded the pieces, holding the ends of the fabric out as I walked through the barn and toward the house.

  Daed stepped out of the cow barn as I passed. I held my head high and aimed straight ahead. Billy and Joe-Joe stood on the front porch, but instead of running out to meet me, they stayed put. Mutter hadn’t latched the back door, so I poked it open with my foot. She sat at the table, the clutter around her. She turned toward me, but I didn’t meet her eyes.

  When I reached the stairs, Aenti Nell was coming down.

  “Good morning,” she called out. But her tone changed when she saw what was in my apron.

  “Oh, Addie. Look at what all this has led to.”

  I shook my head. I let her pass, and then I trudged up to my room, my heart as broken as the bits of wood I carried.

  CHAPTER

  19

  I didn’t go down to fix breakfast, and no one came up to demand I do so. Instead I arranged the pieces of wood on my bare floor, spelling out my name, and then sat on the end of my bed and stared at the letters.

  After a while, I smelled bacon frying and then heard the clatter of dishes and the scrape of chairs against the floor. Aenti Nell must have taken over. I wondered if someone had cleared Mutter’s mess or if they would eat around it.

  I stood at the French doors as Daed and the boys headed out to the fields, Billy and Joe-Joe tagging along but then veering off toward the creek. After a while they appeared carrying fishing poles—new ones. They stopped in the backyard and held them up to me, and Billy shouted something I couldn’t understand.

  I opened the French doors but didn’t step out onto the balcony. “What?” I called out.

  “Jonathan left these for us,” Joe-Joe said.

  “How do you know?”

  Billy held his up higher. “Our names are carved on the handles along with the moon and stars.”

  I gave them a thumbs-up, and they smiled, then turned away toward the tool shed. A minute later they headed back toward the creek with a shovel, most likely to dig for worms.

  After a while I heard footsteps on the stairs and then a soft rap on my door.

  “Come in,” I said, expecting Aenti Nell.

  It wasn’t—it was Danny.

  He stood in his stocking feet, his straw hat in his hands, his hair flat against his head. “Why didn’t you wake me last night?”

  “I tried. You wouldn’t budge.”

  “Didn’t George come?”

  I shook my head.

  “Maybe his pickup wouldn’t start—or something.”

  I nodded. Or something. Maybe he’d decided I should give up on Jonathan and marry Phillip too.

  Outside, Daed yelled for Timothy. Then he bellowed, “Danny!”

  “You should get going,” I said.

  “George does have an idea. . . . But he needs to reach Jonathan, run something by him. Do you have his number?”

  “What’s his plan?” I reached for my robe on the end of my bed.

  “I’m not sure,” Danny said. “But we can’t sit around and do nothing.” His face reddened. “Not you. I don’t think there’s any more you can do. But maybe George can do something. . . .”

  I pulled the piece of paper from my robe and grabbed a small notebook and a pen from the bottom drawer of my dresser, quickly copying down the number in case I needed it.

  “Here,” I said, handing the scrap to Danny as Daed yelled his name again. “It’s his old boss’s number. Jonathan said the man would get him a message right away.”

  Danny clutched the paper and turned to go, waving his hat at me as he hurried from the room.

  A few minutes later, Aenti Nell stepped into my room, brusque and businesslike, as if nothing had happened, holding a dishtowel in her hand. “Come on down and help your Mutter. She’s been weepy all morning.”

  “No wonder,” I said. “She did a terrible thing.”

  “She knows what she did was wrong.”

  I exhaled. “I’ll believe that when she tells me.”

  “You know she won’t admit to it.” Aenti Nell headed for the door. “But still, she needs your help. She found another box she’s going through.” She stepped into the hall, her voice trailing behind her. “The whole house is a mess. . . .”

  I put my head in my hand. “I can’t help her with this house any longer. I think I’m going to move to Big Valley.”

  “With no money? No connections? No family?” She stepped closer to me. “Listen, Addie, we don’t always get what we want in life. I know that better than anyone. But you make do. Besides, Jonathan was nothing but trouble.” She snapped the dishtowel in my direction. “Just like all those Mosiers. The more I hear about Dirk Mosier and see the problems he’s created, the more thankful I am that neither your mother nor I married him. And you shouldn’t be thinking about marrying a Mosier either. You’re a Cramer—it’s up to you to keep peace in this
family. You could do a whole lot worse than”—I covered my ears with my hands, pressing the palms against my Kapp—“Phillip Eicher. . . .” She glared at me and threw up her hands.

  “Aenti Nell,” I said, my hands still over my ears. “Why have you turned on me?”

  “Why? Because you’re pushing everyone to the brink.”

  “You could go live with Mammi Gladys.”

  Aenti Nell wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m afraid that’s where Cap is going to send me if things don’t get back to normal around here.”

  I flinched but didn’t verbally respond, and she stormed out of my room.

  I walked to the French doors. The rain had stopped, and steam rose up from the manure pile by the barn. Daed and the boys headed to the pasture. Danny carried the posthole digger. Timothy followed him, his arm still in a sling. Daed turned around and lumbered back toward the barn, probably for another tool.

  He didn’t look angry at that moment. Just old. And tired.

  I sighed and headed downstairs to help Mutter with her papers. This time she’d come across more old Plain magazines—some that were no longer in print. There were more school papers and certificates. One was hers, from over thirty years ago.

  Of course she still wouldn’t let me throw any of it away, so I took the whole mess up to the attic, where I doubted she would go again—not by herself anyway.

  The boys all avoided me throughout the day—even Billy and Joe-Joe, except when they brought the three fish they’d caught in to be cleaned. Then they were happy for my help.

  There was no mention of my birthday—not even at the evening meal. After I’d finished the supper dishes, I ventured out to the garden to weed. Thunderclouds billowed on the horizon again, and it looked as if we were due for another storm. When dusk began to fall, Daed ambled over from the porch where he and Timothy had been sitting.

  “About done?” he asked.

  “I thought I’d work until it’s dark.”

  He appeared suspicious. “You won’t be able to see but for a few minutes more. Why don’t you go on in.”

  I pointed to the end of the row of carrots. “I just have a couple of feet to go. I think I’ll get it done.”