by Jan Drexler
Mary waved to him, but he only turned away. She climbed into the buggy next to Sadie. They called goodbye to the girls as they started the short drive home.
Sadie sighed. “Now that was a fine visit.”
“I was surprised to see Annie and Bram and their families come by,” Ida Mae said from the back seat. “They haven’t been here before, have they?”
Sadie shook her head. “Not since Annie was married, I think. But she loved the idea when I suggested it.”
Ida Mae leaned forward. “You suggested it?”
“When we were at Annie’s for the quilting. I told her that the girls would love a visit some Sunday afternoon. They need to be close to their family.”
Mary shifted the reins to her left hand and gave Sadie’s shoulders a hug. “You’re always so thoughtful. I’m glad we came to live with you.”
She left her arm around Sadie as Chester turned into the drive without any direction and stopped at the end of the walk leading to the back door.
Ida Mae jumped out of the buggy and reached up to help Sadie down. “I think that horse could go anywhere without a driver. He just reads our minds and takes us where we want to go.”
Sadie chuckled. “Anywhere he wants to go, you mean. He knows it’s time for his oats.” She walked to the horse’s head and patted his nose before heading up the sidewalk.
Her steps were halting, as if walking was difficult. Chester headed toward the barn and his supper, but Mary’s mind was still on Sadie. Perhaps it was time for her to start using a cane. She would hate to see the elderly woman suffer from a fall when they could prevent it.
After taking care of Chester for the night, Mary checked on the chickens. The new henhouse still smelled of fresh sawed wood and whitewash. The hens gathered around her when she let herself into their yard, knowing the routine as well as she did. She filled their waterers as the hens chose their roosting spots, then she closed the door and latched it. No foxes would get these chickens.
The sun still lingered in the sky as she went in the back door, but Ida Mae had lit the lantern over the kitchen table. Sadie sat in her chair, leafing through a magazine as Ida Mae stirred a pot of soup on the stove. Mary stifled the sigh that rose. She didn’t want to complain about the bounty of food in the cellar, but this was the third time they were having canned bean soup in the last four days.
Ida Mae had also brought a jar of canned peaches up from the cellar and Mary picked it up. Bits of cinnamon stick and cloves floated in the juice.
“Spiced peaches? This is a treat.”
“I found them with the jars of regular peaches, and I thought they would make a nice change.” Ida Mae reached into the cupboard for a bowl to pour them in. “I have to say, though, that it will be nice when the garden starts producing. My mouth has been watering for fresh tomatoes.”
“And we haven’t had any since September.” Mary bit her lip as memories from last fall flooded her mind. It was September when she had pestered Mamm and Daed to let her take a job in town, at the little diner next to the hardware store. If she hadn’t taken that job, she would never have met Harvey Anderson. She gripped the edge of the counter as gray clouds swirled, and she counted, silently, staring at the edge of the cabinet.
“You’re doing it again.” Ida Mae had her fists balled on her hips and was staring at her.
The swirls disappeared as Mary faced her sister. “Doing what again?”
Ida Mae glanced at Sadie, who was ignoring them, and leaned closer to whisper, “Every so often, for the past few months, your face goes blank and you look like you’re going to faint.” She bit her lip as her eyes welled with tears. “You’re scaring me. What is wrong?”
Mary took a step back. “I’m all right. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“But I do worry. First I lose Seth in that horrible accident, and now I’m afraid that you’re going to have an apoplexy or something.” She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. “I don’t want to lose you, too.”
Mary tried to smile as she took Ida Mae’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her sister held on to her hand. “But you already have. We used to talk about everything, but now...”
“You’re right.” Tears filled Mary’s eyes and she blinked them away. When they were girls, she and Ida Mae shared all their secrets. Their dreams. Every moment of their days. “I’ve never let you talk about Seth.”
“And we’ve never talked about what happened to you.”
Mary swallowed. “What happened to me?”
“When you came home that day in February with your clothes all dirty, and you had been crying. I waited for you to tell me, but then...well, Seth’s accident, and then moving here to Indiana...” She held Mary’s gaze and didn’t look away. “I miss how close we used to be. Whatever happened, we need to talk about it. It has put a wall between us, and I don’t want it there anymore.”
Mary took a deep, ragged breath. Her secret was a burden that weighed her down, but could she share it with Ida Mae?
“After supper. We’ll talk after supper.”
* * *
When Sadie’s buggy disappeared down the road, Samuel turned his attention to his chores. The afternoon had been torturous, sitting with the family and pretending everything was going well.
After he poured oats into Tilly’s feed box, he went to the pump and started filling the water trough again. The steers crowded around as the fresh water gushed from the spout, and Samuel’s sour mood lifted. The steers were a good investment, so far. They grazed on the rich spring grass during the day, relieving him of the chore of cooking mash and making slop for the hogs. The oppressive atmosphere around the farm had lifted with the clean odor of the pastured cattle. The change had been a good one.
As he pumped, he thought back on the afternoon. Bram had been friendly. Pleasant, even. He and Matthew had visited together the way longtime friends did, with inside jokes and speaking of folks Samuel had never met. Was that what had turned his mood sour?
The trough finally full, Samuel lowered the handle with a clang. He leaned on the fence and watched Tilly push her way through the herd of cattle to get some of the water. After dipping her nose into the cold water, she lifted it and looked at him, water dripping from her chin.
“Hello, Tilly-girl.” Samuel kept his voice soft, in the tone she liked.
She took a step closer and laid her chin on his shoulder, soaking his shirt. He patted her cheek and smoothed the hair along her neck under her mane. Her affection over the last few weeks continued to take him by surprise. He had never had an animal that liked him. Daed had never allowed dogs on the farm, and the barn cats were all half wild. Tilly’s willingness to be near him hammered against that place in his head that told him that animals were only dumb creatures, created to be used. Nothing more.
He stroked her neck once more. Daed’s voice again. He tuned it out.
Had it been Daed’s voice that had made his temper rise this afternoon? Made him see Bram and Matthew as enemies?
Tilly stuck her nose back in the water for another drink and Samuel headed toward the house. He picked up the two chairs remaining in the yard and carried them inside, his mind still on the afternoon. He still didn’t know what had bothered him so much about the afternoon visits from Bram and Matthew and their families. The girls had enjoyed spending time with them.
Maybe it was the bond he had seen between the folks from Eden Township. He was the odd one out. Again.
And he hadn’t said goodbye to Mary.
Esther and Judith were working in the kitchen as he walked in.
“Supper will be ready in a few minutes.”
Samuel set the chairs around the table. “I’m not hungry.”
He was too restless to sit and eat.
Esther glance
d at him, looking more like Mamm than ever.
“I forgot to send Sadie’s bowl from the potato salad home with them. Would you take it over when you go in the morning?”
Samuel grabbed the bowl. “I’ll take it over now. The walk will do me good.”
As Esther and Judith exchanged glances, he could tell that his attempt to keep the growl out of his voice hadn’t been successful. Ja, he needed the walk over to Sadie’s.
He took the path through the fields. Darkness had fallen while he had been in the house, and now only a pale gray sky remained of the day. Light glowed from Sadie’s windows, and he could see the three women in the kitchen. Mary gathered dishes from the table as Ida Mae helped Sadie into the back bedroom. He knocked on the door, and Mary hesitated.
“It’s only me,” Samuel said. “I have Sadie’s bowl.”
She opened the door. “Denki. I had forgotten that we took it over to your house this morning.” She took a step back. “Do you want to come in?”
Samuel leaned in. “I don’t want to disturb your supper.”
Mary waved him in. “We’ve finished, but there are a few spiced peaches left. Sit down and I’ll get a dish for you.”
Samuel hung his hat on a peg near the door and sat down. Sadie’s kitchen was always bright and clean, but this evening, in the lamplight, it was an island in the dark.
He smiled as Mary set the peaches and a spoon in front of him. “These smell delicious.”
Mary sat in a chair next to him. “I don’t know who made them, but they are very good.”
Cutting into the peach half with the edge of his spoon, Samuel took a bite and nodded as the sweet juice filled his mouth.
“Good. Very good.” He took another bite and looked at Mary. “I didn’t come over only to return the bowl.”
Her eyebrows went up.
“I guess I need to apologize. I never thanked you for coming over today, and bringing dinner to share.”
“We had a lot of fun getting to know some more of your family.”
Samuel moved the rest of the peach half around in the juice. “Ja, well, they were a surprise.”
“You don’t sound like it was a pleasant surprise.”
He peered at her. “I didn’t expect them to be there, that’s all.”
“I watched you talking with Bram and Matthew. They get along well together.”
The restlessness came back at the mention of the two men and he pushed away from the table. “They do. The peaches were good.”
She followed him out to the back porch. “What did I say to chase you away?”
He turned his hat over in his hands, then stuck it on his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“It’s Bram and Matthew, isn’t it? They’re friends with each other and you feel left out.”
“I’m not some schoolboy who wasn’t chosen for the softball team.”
“But you are Bram’s brother, and you don’t act like you are.”
His throat constricted and his words came out as a growl. “We’re not brothers. We only happen to have the same parents.”
She was silent then, and he turned to leave. But she came after him.
“Wait.”
He stopped at the bottom of the porch steps and looked up at her. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafted toward him.
“No matter what has gone on between the two of you in the past, you have to admit that Bram is trying. He came over to see you today. Doesn’t that tell you he wants to be friends?”
“You don’t know what it was like, growing up with our daed.”
She came down one step and her head was even with his. “I don’t know what it was like for you growing up, but Sadie has told us some things about your family. I understand that your father was a hard man to live with.”
He shrugged. “You’re right.”
“But that is the past.”
He felt a weight drop off his shoulders at her words. She was right. He took her hand in his. “And I’m not my daed.”
She didn’t pull her hand back, but squeezed his, leaning close. “You’re not your daed.”
* * *
If Mary thought Ida Mae might forget the promised talk, she was wrong. When she came back inside after saying good-night to Samuel and making a final check on the chickens, Ida Mae was sitting at the kitchen table with a pan of light brown fudge and two cups of mint tea.
Ida Mae smiled when she saw Mary. “Remember how we used to sneak downstairs after Mamm went to bed and made fudge?”
“Where did you find the sugar?” Mary slipped into her chair and took the spoon her sister offered her.
“I used some from the sugar bowl, and then added some honey. I couldn’t find any chocolate, though, so it’s a vanilla fudge.”
Mary spooned some of the warm candy into her mouth. “Mmm. More like caramel.”
“I cooked the sugar and butter together before I added the milk, but I wasn’t sure how it would turn out.”
“Perfect.”
Ida Mae took a bite on her spoon and held it up, admiring the rich color. “So. Tell me what happened last February.”
Mary swallowed as she turned her cup of tea around on the saucer. “It is something terrible. Are you sure you want to hear?”
Her sister put her spoon down and took both of Mary’s hands in hers. “I’m here to listen. And it can’t be as terrible as what I’ve been imagining.”
Mary looked at her and Ida Mae sucked in her lower lip. “Or maybe it is.”
“There was a young man. A boy, really.” Mary took a deep breath. “He worked at the store next to the diner where I worked last winter.”
“I don’t remember any Amish boys working there.”
“He wasn’t Amish.”
Ida Mae waited for her to go on.
“He...was friendly at first.” She swallowed. “And he would ask me to meet him in the alley behind the diner after work. He said he would buy me a soda pop.”
“Did he?”
“The first time.” Mary remembered the fuzzy feeling of the pop sliding down her throat. “I liked it. It was orange.”
“But then?”
“We met every Friday night, after the stores closed, and before I walked home. He was funny. Told jokes. When he tried to put his arm around me one time, I told him I couldn’t do that. And he laughed and said I’d learn to like it.”
“Did he stop?”
“That time he did. But then the next week he told me how pretty I was, and how I should take off my kapp so he could see how long my hair was...” She stopped. Her voice was shaking and Ida Mae squeezed her hand.
“Were you in love with him?”
“Maybe.” Mary blinked back the tears that sprang into her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Did he kiss you?”
Mary couldn’t look at Ida Mae. “He did much more than kiss me.” Tears tickled her cheeks as they tracked down to her chin. Her voice shook, but she kept on, feeling the burden of her secret lift as she shared it with her sister. “That night in February, he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t listen to me. He pushed me down to the ground...”
Ida Mae scooted her chair over and pulled her close in a hug. “Shh. It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me more.”
“Every time something reminds me of it, I...” She hiccupped. “I start shaking, and I feel like I’m going to faint.”
“What can I do to help you?”
Mary leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder. “You’ve been through a terrible time, too. How can I ask you to help?”
Ida Mae pushed Mary up and looked into her eyes. “Because we’ve both been through terrible things. We need each other.”
Mary swiped at her cheek. “A
nd I’ve been shutting you out. I was afraid that when you learned how shameful I had been...”
“What is shameful about being a victim?”
“If I hadn’t asked Daed to let me work in town, and if I hadn’t been so friendly with...with Harvey...” She swiped at another tear. “I know I led him on, making him think I was a different kind of girl—” She sniffed. “I’m so ashamed of what I did.”
“Don’t.” Ida Mae’s lips pressed together. “Don’t blame yourself. I’ve been blaming myself ever since Seth died. I wanted to go on a picnic with him that day, but I never told him. If I had made him go with me, he wouldn’t have been in that accident.”
Mary shook her head. “Seth’s accident wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know he was going to fall into that machine.”
“Mamm finally convinced me of that, just before we left home. But don’t you see? You’re trying to blame yourself for the terrible thing Harvey did. It isn’t your fault. It’s his.”
“But if I hadn’t...”
“Don’t make excuses for him.” Ida Mae brushed a lock of Mary’s hair behind her ear with a tender touch. “He made you trust him. He took something that didn’t belong to him. It isn’t your fault.”
Mary squeezed Ida Mae’s hand. “Tell me again, which one of us is the older sister?”
“Will you tell Samuel?”
“Why would I tell him?”
Ida Mae shrugged. “You are good friends with him, aren’t you? And the way he looks at you...”
Mary’s stomach turned. “What do you mean, the way he looks at me?”
“He’s in love with you.”
“He can’t be.” Mary shook her head. “He can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m never going to fall in love. I’m never going to get married.”
Ida Mae twined her fingers in Mary’s. “Is that what you really want? What about the dreams we had as girls?”
Mary watched her sister’s face as Ida Mae struggled to keep a smile. “Have you given up on yours, now that Seth is gone?”