by Amy Field
To her right Mary heard an audible gasp and she suspected that Abel was the one who was shocked now.
“Please come in, come in.” Sarah ushered her inside. Moving away from the door, she allowed Mary entrance.
“Thank you for delivering my niece Abel - I suspect Josef must be wondering where you are now,” she meaningfully said to Abel.
“Ah yes Mrs. Yoder,” he managed to stutter out. “I’ll be going now.”
Before left he turned his attention towards Mary.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mary,” he said, as a smile graced his lips.
It sent butterflies to her chest and she eagerly returned his smile.
“Me too, Abel,” she agreed.
He left after that and she and her aunt watched as the horse pulled the buggy away from the gate.
“Shall we?” Her aunt gestured in the direction of what she supposed must be her living room.
Mary followed her and realized her assumptions were correct. After offering her a seat she went and prepared tea for the both of them.
“So tell me, Mary, what is it you would like to know about Elizabeth?” her aunt asked after settling in an armchair opposite the one she sat in cradling a cup of tea.
After taking a sip of the contents in her own cup, Mary replaced it on the tree on the small coffee table before focusing her attention on her aunt.
“Well, my adopted mother died recently and she left a letter that explained some things about my mother but I wanted to talk to her personally to clear some things up,” she replied.
Mary noticed that Sarah became solemn after sighing heavily.
“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Mary, but Elizabeth died ten years ago,” she replied sympathetically.
Mary felt her heart slam against her chest and her breath catch in her throat. She couldn’t speak. In less than a month she had lost two mothers. She didn’t know why it affected her so much, seeing as she had never met her biological mother – she didn’t even know she existed before her mother’s death. She tried to dislodge the lump in her throat so that she could breathe properly, but she couldn’t.
As if Sarah sensed her distress, she rushed over and pulled her to her feet. Just as she embraced her, Mary released a stifled moan that almost sounded guttural. Could that really be coming from her?
“Shh, it’s okay,” Her aunt cooed.
After Mary was calm enough, she allowed Mary to sit before taking back her seat.
“I don’t know why I acted like that,” Mary said in an apologetic voice with her eyes downcast in embarrassment.
“It is understandable,” Sarah replied in a soft tone.
“You lost the only mother you’ve known your whole life and then you lose another mother you didn’t even know you had. Even the sanest of us would probably react in the same fashion or worse.”
Mary gave her a grateful smile for her understanding.
“I noticed you had luggage with you. Do you have somewhere to stay?” Sarah asked.
“I was hoping my mother would allow me to stay with her for maybe a few days but I had a backup plan. I was going to try and rent a room close by,” Mary replied.
“Oh,” Sarah replied with a contemplative look on her face. “You are welcome to stay here and I could tell you all you need to know about your mother,” she offered. “I just need to run it by Hans first.”
Mary looked at her perplexed.
“He’s my husband,” Sarah responded.
“Thank you so much. I would love that,” Mary said.
Sarah smiled.
“You must be tired. Let me show you to one of the guest rooms so that you can freshen up and take a nap,” she said, rising to her feet. “When you’re awake we can start talking about Elizabeth,” she offered.
“That would be nice,” Mary replied gratefully.
Her aunt took her upstairs to a guest room that was already prepared.
It was like she was expecting company. Mary felt a chill run down her spine.
After telling her aunt thanks once more, she removed her toiletries and went to the en-suite bathroom to freshen up. She went and lay on the cot covered by a uniquely done quilt. The day had certainly turned out differently than she had expected but she couldn’t complain as she had a member of her extended family that was willing to help her get much-needed closure. Soon she was in bed and fell into a dreamless, fitful sleep.
Mary awoke feeling well rested. The memory of where she was came rushing back to her. She looked around the room, but it was too dark for her to see much. She arose and went to feel for a switch for the light but couldn’t find any. With a sigh she gave up and started feeling for the doorknob instead.
When she opened the door, she was greeted by a dimly lit hall way. She carefully made her way to the staircase where she heard faint chatter coming from downstairs. She followed the voices that lead her straight to the living room where she had been earlier.
Her aunt Sarah now sat in a wooden rocker with what appeared to be knitting material. A burly looking man with sandy brown hair sat on the sofa talking animatedly to her. As soon as her aunt spotted her, Sarah arose from the rocker and this brought the man’s attention to her as well.
“You’re awake,” she said cheerily. She then turned her attention towards the man seated on the sofa. “Hans, this is Mary,” she introduced. “Mary, this is Hans, my husband,” she finished and turned her attention back to Mary.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mary,” the man said, rising to his feet. He reached out his hand to take Mary’s in a handshake.
“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Yoder,” she returned with a genuine smile.
“Are you hungry, Mary?” her aunt’s voice chipped in.
“I am,” she confirmed.
She was served beef slices with mashed potatoes, corn, and gravy with a side of peach cobbler in the dining room. The food looked and tasted sumptuous. This was something she could definitely get used to. She hadn’t eaten one decently cooked meal since her mother’s illness. She herself had not mastered the art of cooking, and was liable to burn even water. Her mother had referred to her as a “cooking disaster.” The memory instantly brought a smile to her lips as she remembered the twinkle in her mother’s eyes as she said those words. As fast as the smile had appeared, it disappeared just as quickly when she remembered that her mother would no longer be able to make fun of her cooking – she wouldn’t make fun of her overall and she wasn’t there to make promises like before. A lone tear slid down her cheek and she reached up to wipe it away.
For the remainder of the meal, she kept her thoughts away from her mother and focused on finishing. Her aunt came back into the kitchen to clear the table and although Mary insisted that she wanted to help with the dishes, her aunt refused.
When she was finished, she wiped her hands on the apron she sported over her tunic and turned to Mary.
“So,” she started conversationally. “Do you have any questions that you would like to ask me now?”
Mary pondered the question carefully before making her request.
“Do you have any photos of my mother?” she asked hopefully, but then immediately realised what the answer would be.
“I’m sorry, no,” Sarah started in an apologetic tone. “We don’t take photos - it is a part of our faith,” she further explained.
“Oh,” Mary replied, the disappointment evident in her voice.
“But I can tell you this: you remind me so much of your mother that I don’t need a picture to remember her,” Sarah said in a reassuring voice. “You have her auburn hair and green eyes. She had a mole to the side of her cheek just above her lips like yours,” she continued, gesturing with her chin to Mary’s face.
“I used to tease her about it when we were growing up,” she reminisced, getting a faraway look in her eyes. “Mama would always scold me for making fun of her.” She smiled at the memory then walked towards an empty chair and sat down.
Sarah turned her gaze on Mary. The look in her eyes told Mary that she was battling with whatever she was about to say.
“She wasn’t really interested in the boys in the community, though. Her affection belonged to your father,” she revealed.
“How did she meet him?” Mary asked, now curious about how the story would unfold.
“He came to town to do a documentary on us,” she started after some time. “He was staying by our neighbor’s home and in that time Mary came to know him and grow affection for him. Our parents didn’t know and so they would often invite him to have dinner with us. But I knew, and although I warned her that it wouldn’t end well, I also protected her…,” she trailed off as her countenance became sad. “But then I couldn’t protect her anymore. He left and she found out she was pregnant.”
“What happened then?” Mary asked, very engrossed in the story about her mother and how she came to be.
“Our parents found out and they ostrasized her out. They told her she had caused disgrace and shame to come to the family,” she replied, heaving a heavy sigh.
“I tried to help her, but there was only so much I could do,” she explained. “She left the community and returned nearly a year and half after. She wouldn’t talk about you and I didn’t pry. I was just happy that she was back, but I could see that she was battling a great pain that none of us would be able to help her with.”
“Then why didn’t she just take me with her?” Mary asked, her voice sounding sharp.
“You have to understand Mary - our culture is different from the one outside of our community. If she brought you back with her she would never be accepted back into the community,” Sarah explained.
“So she chose to give me away,” Mary responded bitterly.
“I’m sorry, Mary, but you have to believe me that she had your best interests at heart. You would have never been accepted back into the community without having the stigma of being a bastard and an Englisher’s child,” she tried to explain.
Mary sighed heavily before turning her eyes towards her aunt’s sympathetic face.
“Are my grandparents alive?” she asked.
Again, Sarah seemed hesitant to answer the question.
“They are,” she confirmed. “They live a few miles away from her,” she offered.
“Can I see them?” Mary asked.
“Okay,” Sarah replied simply, sounding almost resigned. “We can go tomorrow.”
Mary nodded her head in agreement. She had had as much revelation as she could manage for the time being and decided to call it a night.
“I think I’m going to call it a night now,” she said rising from the chair.
“Goodnight, Mary,” Sarah replied.
“Goodnight…” Mary started but stopped unsure if how to proceed. “What should I call you?” she asked the woman.
“You can call me Aunt Sarah or just Sarah; whichever one you are more comfortable with,” she replied.
Mary considered her words. At the moment she was the only family she knew and she had willingly opened her doors to her, so it was fair enough to call her aunt.
“Goodnight, Aunt Sarah,” she replied, earning an appreciative smile from Sarah.
The next morning after breakfast, Hans left to go tend to his farm and Mary and Sarah left in the buggy for her grandparents. Half an hour later, they pulled up to a farmhouse with a wide porch that took up most of the front. It was a single floor dwelling with a big red barn and a windmill to the side.
Mary suddenly felt nervous and her palms became sweaty with the anticipation of meeting the people who she was to call grandparents – the same people who forced her mother to give her up.
As soon as they made it to the door, Sarah knocked. They waited patiently as rustling was heard from beyond the door. Soon enough the door was pulled back and a grey-haired woman stood before them. She seemed to be in her mid-sixties with the same green eyes that seemed to be a family trait. Her gaze had landed on Sarah first, but when she brought her attention to Mary she gasped audibly as a hand reached up to clutch her chest. Her face became ashen as if she had seen a ghost.
When she had recovered enough, she turned questioning eyes to Sarah.
“Mama, this is Mary, Elizabeth’s daughter,” Sarah explained.
This time the woman’s eyes widened in shock and she once again turned her gaze towards Mary. Before she could say anything, a tall man with grey hair and a full growing beard freckled with grey hair appeared behind the woman a stern look on his face.
“What is going on here?” he asked in an equally stern tone.
The tension became palpable as Sarah stiffened beside Mary. When nothing was said, he gave Mary a fleeting look but she noted the look of recognition reflected in them. He then focused fully on Sarah.
“Explain,” he commanded.
“Dad,” she started nervously. “This is Elizabeth’s daughter Mary,” she finished.
“I know who she is,” he replied impatiently, not looking at Mary. “What I want to know is why did you bring her here?” he asked.
“Well, uh…” Sarah stuttered, unsure of what to say.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mary interrupted, extending her hand towards the man who had stepped before his wife at this point.
He looked down at her hand in disdain and Mary retracted her hand as if she had been stung.
“Listen here, miss. I don’t what it is you think you’re doing but we are not family. You are not my granddaughter. Don’t ever come back here,” he said in a hard tone.
Mary felt as if someone poured a bucket of ice water over her head. Her heart constricted at the fact that her grandfather was telling her he wanted nothing to do with her.
“Sarah, take her from here,” he commanded. Sarah jumped at his booming voice.
“Yes, dad,” she replied, reaching her hand out to wrap it around her wrist. “Come,” she said simply.
Mary allowed her to lead her away from the door, but as they went she caught a glimpse of her grandmother who had a longing look on her face.
“I’m sorry I put you through that. I should have known he would have reacted like that,” Sarah said. The horse moseyed along the path, pulling them away from the hurtful words that had just been hurled at Mary.
“It’s okay,” Mary replied, simply afraid if she continued to talk her voice would reveal just how affected she actually was.
“You have to understand that they are traditionalists. They are stuck in the old ways as are most of the members of the community. You just have to give them time to come around,” Sarah continued with her explanation.
When they made it back to Sarah’s home, Mary excused herself, feigning a headache. As soon as she stepped through the bedroom door, the tears she had held at bay came streaming hotly down her face. She sank against the door as her feet gave out from under her. She rested her head on her bended knees as an actual headache made its way towards her frontal lobe. When she could manage to stand she went and took a nap. She needed to regroup and think about what she needed to do. However, her aunt helped her make that decision.
When Mary made it back downstairs it was already evening.
“How are you feeling?” Sarah asked with genuine concern.
“Much better, thanks,” she replied, adding a faint smile for reassurance.
Sarah took that as a good sign and began to speak.
“I know your encounter might have you feeling like leaving here and never coming back, but it would mean a lot to me if you would stay.”
Mary made to decline the offer but Sarah rushed on.
“I really want you to stay,” she pleaded in earnest.
How could Mary say no to such sincerity?
“Okay, I will,” she replied, earning a happy look from her aunt.
“Great, now
you can pack your things in the wardrobe in the room,” Sarah replied excitedly.
Mary laughed at her aunt’s eagerness to have her living with her.
“Maybe you could help me get some dresses like yours and some of the coverings the people around here wear. I want to experience what it means to be an authentic Amish girl,” she explained to her aunt, whose smile grew even wider if that were possible.
“I do have a set of dresses that will fit you just nicely,” she replied, earning a perplexed look from Mary. “They were your mother’s,” she explained. “And I think I have enough prayer kapps to give you a few to wear.”
After meal that evening, Sarah announced to her husband that Mary would be staying with them indefinitely. Surprisingly, he did not fuss or seemed displeased, but approved immediately. In fact he seemed to be just as eager as her aunt to have her living with them.
The following morning, Mary replaced her skinny jeans with a straight plain blue tunic and apron that did nothing to accentuate or highlight her curves. After placing her hair in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, she secured the prayer kapp over it. She didn’t bother to put on make-up as her aunt had explained that make-up would be a distraction that was to be avoided.
When she made it downstairs, her aunt was already up and in the kitchen, stocking wood in the oven of the stove.
“Is there anything you would like me to help you with, Aunt Sarah?” she asked, ready to do something to earn her keep.
“I need you to go the chicken coop located in the barn and bring back the eggs they laid,” she told Mary.
Mary stood with a perplexed look on her face.
“I see you’ve never done that before,” Sarah observed, amused.
Mary gave her an apologetic look.
“Don’t worry. In no time you will get used to all the things we do here,” she reassured Mary.
Proving that she was useful turned out to be futile as nothing her aunt suggested she do was something she could actually do. Each time her aunt encouraged her that she would get used to it. She was grateful that Sarah was so understanding and willing to help her.