Noah smiled and lifted his head, but only for a quick second as he looked for Hester. She stood behind the cookstove, away from too many knowing eyes. She was watching Noah’s wide shoulders, his white shirt too small and tugging at the seams, the too-short sleeves rolled up as he plied the potato masher. It looked like a toy in his hands.
“Oops. Ach, oops. Ooops!” Mamie Troyer stepped back as she dropped the dipper of hot milk. It splattered across the bench, over Noah’s and Jessie’s pant legs, eventually pooling on the oak boards in a white, steaming puddle.
Hester grabbed a clean cloth, lowered herself, and began mopping up the spilled milk as Mamie clutched her cheeks, apologizing profusely for such a dummes.
Hester swabbed the milk—luckily, the dipper had only been half-full—and assured Mamie there was plenty of milk, it would be all right.
As she got to her feet, Noah and Jessie sat back down. Noah met Hester’s eyes. “Thank you Hester.” Hester nodded, her smile for only a second, her eyes only for him. But they all saw. These women were sharp. They’d raised large families, were in fact still raising them.
A beautiful young widow, the long lost brother, but not a brother at all. They lifted their hands to their mouths, thinking, Siss yusht.
Old Suvilla, from her rocking chair, felt the familiar prick of goosebumps up her arms. She rocked a bit to hide her nodding. Ya, dess gebt hochzich.
In Gottes zeit. In Gottes zeit.
CHAPTER 7
AFTER THE FUNERAL, BAPPIE CHANGED. AT FIRST HESTER could not pinpoint exactly how she changed, but it was there. The first sign was her reluctance to finish breakfast and get Silver out of the barn, hitched up, and on the way to the farm. Noah was close to completing the sturdy oak floor, and he had only a few directions from Bappie.
The house was even more desolate than Hester remembered. She could not see how Bappie could improve very much with only two weeks of Noah’s labor, but she didn’t say anything until the second week, when Bappie expressed no more enthusiasm or ideas.
They were finishing up a breakfast of fried mush and eggs, with coffee soup, a rare treat. There had been a few coffee beans left over at the funeral, which Bappie asked to take home, mincing no words and offering no apology. She wanted coffee soup for breakfast.
Hester liked it, remembering it as a treat at Christmas, when Doddy Zugs would bring coffee beans. Kate would brew coffee, while they all inhaled the rich, brown fragrance. She would add hot milk and brown sugar to the drink, and they would pour it over toasted bread, enjoying every spoonful of the soggy, sweet, coffee-flavored soup.
Bappie scraped her spoon carefully across the heavy dish, put it in her mouth to savor the last bit of soup, slid down in her chair, yawned, stretched her arms above her head, and whooshed out a breath of air.
Hester eyed her from the opposite end of the table. “Either you’re not sleeping well, or you’re plain lazy.”
Quickly, Bappie sat up. “Oh, no, no. Nothing like that. Come, Hester. Let’s get these dishes washed. We need to get out to the house. Noah’s probably been there since sunup. Nope, nothing wrong with me, Hester. Why?”
“It just seems as if you’ve lost interest in fixing the house.”
“What? Me? No, never.” With that, Bappie jumped up and cleared the table so fast she was like a blur rushing past. She scalded herself with the hot water she dumped into the dishpan. She threw the harness over Silver’s back with so much power it almost slid down the other side.
The faithful horse’s sides were lathered with sweat by the time they reached the farm, goaded on by Bappie’s burst of high spirits. She was like a whirlwind all day.
Noah pushed back his hat and watched her carrying boards. He sat down in the shade of the maple tree in front of the house, opened his lunch bucket, found the cheese, bread, and butter, and began to eat.
Here he was, on the tenth day of the twelve he would be hired, and he had had not one chance to talk to Hester, other than the usual banter or talking about the job, and with Bappie present every time. He thought perhaps she might not show up one of these days, the way she seemed to lack direction or energy after the funeral. But then, he guessed it was because she had lost a friend and she felt defeated.
The addition was well on its way. The walls were up and the rafters set. Now all it needed was the roof, which Bappie had bought from the lumberyard in town, saying they had no time to make their own.
Noah sat against the trunk of the tree, his gaze roaming to the garden where the fine pea stalks climbed up the low fence. He had watched Hester put in stakes close to the roots and then tie hemp rope from stake to stake. With all the good rains, they should have a bumper crop of peas to sell before the middle of June.
He could not imagine a woman being so enterprising, but then he thought, this is a new age, a new generation, and some things do not always stay the same. He was so proud of Hester making her own way. He wished she would talk about her healing with herbs, but she never once mentioned the subject.
He finished the molasses cake, tipped the crockery jug of water, and swallowed gratefully. The sun was overhead, already showing the strength of the sizzling days of July and August.
He was surprised to see Hester walking in his direction, carrying the two-handled lunch basket they filled every day. Her pace slowed as she came near, placing her feet timidly, as if she was afraid she would waken him. Surely she would not sit beside him on the grass beneath this tree. But that is exactly what she did. Settling herself comfortably about a foot away, she lifted the lid of the basket and extracted a slice of bread. She opened a brown paper of cold, cooked bacon, laid a few slices on one side, folded the bread and took a small bite. Still, she said nothing.
He could hear the dull hammering of his heart, a pounding in his ears. His breathing quickened; he hoped she would remain unaware. He prayed for Bappie to stay busy, to stay away.
Hester broke the silence abruptly. “Is Hans … are Annie and Hans still alive?”
Noah’s heart fluttered, then sank, when he realized that was all she wanted from him.
“Yes, as far as I know. I think the people in Berks County know I am here in the Lancaster settlement.”
Hester nodded. “You mean, if they, if one of them would pass away, they would let you know?”
“Yes.”
“Are they well? Hans and Annie?”
“I believe they are.”
She ate in silence then. “Do you understand why I left?”
His throat constricted with unexpected emotion, closing off the words he wanted to speak. He shook his head from side to side.
“If I tell you, will keep it quiet?”
He nodded, the constriction worsening.
“It was Hans. His love for me should have gone to Annie. She hated me for that reason.”
Still he could not speak.
“It was my own fault.”
Without thinking, and feeling only rage that pushed back any obstruction in his throat, Noah burst out, “What are you talking about? None of that was your fault.”
Hester dropped her head. She bowed her long graceful neck in humility and lowered her eyelids. The profile of her face was unbearably sad.
“Hester, look at me.”
Her only answer was a shake of her head.
“You can’t mean what you just said.”
“But I do.”
Suddenly, she raised her head to face him squarely, her chest heaving with the force of her words, her eyes flashing the dark fire of the intensity she felt. “Noah, you don’t know what a sinner I have been. I was accosted by my own husband’s brother in the cellar at Christmastime. And I was rebellious to William, as well. So how could I blame my life and its trials on others, on men? Things like this occur so often, and, Noah, it is all my own fault. William said so.”
Noah took a deep breath to steady himself. He realized his hands were shaking, jarring the lid of his lunch bucket.
“Hester, you must stop thinking t
his. It is a lie. God gave you your beauty. These … those … the men, my own father …” His voice faded away as the words fell over each other, a stone in his chest replacing the warmth of his beating heart.
Now her hands went up to cover her face as she began to cry, unable to control the years of pent-up fear and self-loathing.
Noah’s longing to take her in his arms was so strong that he got to his feet in one swift upward movement and in two long strides, separated himself from Hester. Only now did he begin to grasp the enormity of his undertaking. To win her, to have her, was not possible at this time—and maybe never—with her mind so set on William’s accusation, his blaming her.
Of course, Bappie chose to make her appearance just then, waving and striding quickly in their direction. “Where’s the basket? I’m hungry. Have you eaten already, Noah? No use rushing off. Stay sitting. Let’s have a picnic here under the lovely tree.”
Noah smiled and said thanks, but reminded her that he had only one more day, and it would take the rest of the afternoon to finish the one side of the roof. Hester gathered herself together as best she could, partially hiding her face by looking at the fast-growing pea stalks.
Bappie plopped down, opened the lunch basket, wrinkled her nose, and said something in there smelled odd. What had Hester packed?
Hester sniffed, got to her feet, and said if she didn’t like what was in that basket, why then she could pack it herself.
Bappie lifted her chin and watched Hester stalk off in one direction and Noah in another. It was too bad, she thought, the way those two simply couldn’t hit it off. But then, often that was the way. She’d heard Mamie Troyer talking to Lydia Esh about how au-gnomma children often had bad natures, and it didn’t work out. Not that Hester wasn’t good. You just had to be careful about these things.
That Noah was a looker, though. Made you wonder, the way he seemed to avoid talking to Hester. Bappie guessed they simply didn’t like each other too good. Too bad, because they made quite a pair. Well, no romance in the air where those two were concerned, so that was that.
She shrugged her shoulders, bit off a piece of overcooked bacon, rolled a hard-boiled egg to remove the shell, added a pinch of salt, and popped half of it into her mouth. She chewed contentedly, watched the crows flapping overhead, and thought about living here with Hester. Much better than in town. So much better.
The sun was too hot for the month of May, she observed. These sorry little buds on the trees did nothing to keep the striking light of the sun off her face. Bappie reached for the water jug, wiped her forehead, and thought a storm was likely brewing with this extraordinary heat from the new spring sunshine.
Hester stopped drilling the floorboards, sat back, and looked out the door. Sweat trickled down the middle of her back. Her dress felt too snug; her face was flushed with the heat. It seemed like August when the corn and tomatoes were ripe.
One side of the roof was finished, throwing shadowed light across the yellow plank floor. The opposite side offered only strips of shade, so the heat from the sun was finding its way between the laths Noah had nailed across the rafters.
Hester returned to drilling holes where the wooden pegs would be pounded. This would be a good, solid oak floor that would never wear through. Around and around, her one arm swung the drill, while her other arm pushed down on its top. Oak lumber was hard, the best choice for a floor, but in the heat of this day, Hester was wearing out and her patience was growing thin. It didn’t help that the conversation with Noah had gone wrong, veering off into a disagreement.
She had meant to alert him of her inability to be a wife. He had to know. He had to understand that she could not possibly return to her Berks County home.
She could never forgive Hans. That was not possible. She hated him with hatred that ran in her blood. She felt the agonized cries of the Lenape, pushed from their homes and denied their birthright by the white people who moved into Pennsylvania like a swarm of locusts. Like Pharaoh’s plague in the Bible. Diese hoyschrecken. These grasshoppers.
She know the hatred was wrong. It was so wrong to remember Hans’s behavior and to think of Annie’s cruelty. It had become much easier to shift the blame onto herself and to set Hans and Annie free from judgment.
Only sometimes on the darkest nights, the tears would seep from her eyes and pool in her ears as she lay staring at the underside of the ceiling, the hewn logs rough and dark, the way her heart felt when she remembered. Yet she longed to return, to feel the safety of the familiar pastures, gardens, and roads of her childhood, to soak up the security of the innocence that was no longer hers.
Yes, God had given her this beauty, but to what end? A curse was all it was, the way the men in her life behaved without being respectful. At least some of them.
If only she had learned to behave in a more careful manner. She had been too free with her smiles, the flash of her dark eyes, allowing herself to enjoy William’s company and Johnny’s attention.
She had loved Hans and adored him as a child, accompanying him on his horseshoeing forays, becoming the delight of the Amish settlement. Large, swarthy, dark-haired Hans and his astoundingly beautiful little Indian daughter, who handed him his nails and his tools and was never afraid of the spirited horses or the hooves that could strike out with the speed of lightning.
Kate had always been free with her affections, smiling easily, placing a warm hand like a crown of approval on Hester’s dark head, softly singing German hymns that Hester absorbed like melting sugar.
She sang boisterously, sometimes, too, her blue eyes laughing, her head nodding in time to the silly words, but only when Hans was safely out of hearing distance.
Her hair is so schtrubbly in the wind
Her eyes so big and brown,
I often see her on the road,
When I drive into town.
At the washtub, mostly, she would sing the songs of her youth, when Hans was tall and dark and she was the slim, blue-eyed schtrubblich maedle.
The hatred she felt for Hans as she grew older was a canker sore in her soul. If she gave in to it, eventually the canker would burst, poisoning her with its infection and spreading through her whole being with its dark and sinister promise and pushing out God’s healing love.
It wasn’t possible to harbor hatred and healing love at the same time. They could not coexist. But on some dark nights, fear and remembering would come back. She determined it was far better to blame herself. She wanted Noah to know this, although she wasn’t exactly sure why it was important. Well, now he knew. He could disagree if he wanted, but she would never let her guard down.
Late in the afternoon, the water jugs were empty and the sun’s heat was like a wet blanket. The air was moist and much too hot after the cold of winter and the bone-chilling breezes of April that had bent the old brown goldenrod and the stubbles of wheat and had matted the grasses in the fields.
Bappie threw herself down along the north side of the house where the damp earth held cool moisture and cold earthworms dug along the base of it. She pulled her skirts up to mid-calf, then untied her sturdy black shoes and kicked them off, each one landing with a thunk in the new grass. She rolled down her heavy socks, then leaned forward and tugged on the toes, slid the itchy garments over her heels, and flung them after the shoes.
She sat back against the log walls, dug her heels into the cool, damp earth, and wiggled each toe, liberating them from the heat of the socks. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let the tension roll off her shoulders and down her back.
The only sound was Noah’s steady hammering. She had never seen anyone slap on wooden shingles like that. An begaubta mensch, for sure.
Perhaps he’d be like his father, Hans. But then, they said Hans didn’t become prosperous till he married Annie. She was the one that set the gunpowder under Hans’s britches and managed like a man. She knew when the moon turned in July and you dug thistles, when to plant corn, which horse could easily work all day and which one s
hould be sold. That’s what they said.
Bappie was not the first one to notice the cloud in the northwest. She was sitting in the moist shade, so the fading yellow light went unnoticed by her as she thought about that Annie Troyer wearing the trousers the way she did.
Noah stopped and looked off to where the line of trees met the flat grassland of the meadow. A fast moving line of clouds had already swallowed the sun. Without its heat, the air turned brassy, and a yellow pallor fell over the surrounding fields.
Hester straightened, laid the drill by the wall, rubbed her back, and went to the door, wondering where the light had gone. She lifted her head and sniffed the air. Not a whisper of a breeze. The new leaves on the trees hung as still as lace doilies on a shelf, their pattern constant.
She did not like the brassy atmosphere. There was a storm brewing—ominous, a black panther of the sky stalking the earth below, ready to unleash its power of sizzling lightning and great earsplitting crashes of thunder. This would be a big one.
Her eyes went to the garden and the steady green growth of the pea vines. Healthy tendrils reached toward the top string that Hester had stretched between the wooden stakes. Ah, surely God would spare them. Hard, knife-like sheets of rain, strong winds, and the heavens crashing and rumbling about them would be fearsome, but none of that would have the power to damage like the dreaded hail and its large balls of ice. She took another deep breath. She could smell the rain, the moisture that would fall from that black, boiling bank of clouds.
Bappie came around the corner of the house, her eyes dark, every freckle visible, the blanching of her skin revealing the depth of her fear. “Storm coming, huh?”
“Looks like it.”
“Is it bad?”
Hester shrugged. She lifted her eyes to the horizon, watching.
Bappie watched Hester’s quiet face. “How bad?” she repeated.
“It’s a good-sized storm.”
Hester Takes Charge Page 7