Isaac forced himself to relax back against the seat. But as Myron turned toward the auction building, Isaac glimpsed a light green car with white tail fins. Without thinking, he twisted in his seat to follow its progress into the parking lot.
“You like antique cars?” Myron asked. “I’m sure you aren’t that eager to see Wilma Mast.”
Isaac mumbled a neh. He’d given himself away.
“I did hear a rumor that Wilma has a niece visiting from Ohio. We were all surprised to find out the girl’s Amish.”
If Myron expected Isaac to admit anything, he was sorely mistaken. No way would Isaac reveal his interest in Sovilla. Except ... he already had.
Chapter Sixteen
Right before they reached the market, Wilma’s loud sniff roused Sovilla from her unhappiness.
Since she’d awoken that morning, pictures of Nancy and Henry—smiling at each other, walking together, attending singings—flooded her mind. Sovilla had kept hope alive that Henry would propose and she’d return to Sugarcreek. An impossible dream.
“What are you moping about?” Wilma demanded. “You haven’t said a word the whole trip.”
“I, um, had some bad news in a letter from home.” The last thing she wanted to do was reveal that Henry had a new girlfriend. Wilma would gloat that she’d been right: men couldn’t be trusted.
Her aenti’s eyes widened. “Is your mamm all right?”
Wilma’s concerned face startled Sovilla. Would she care if something happened to Mamm?
“Neh, the news was about someone in Sugarcreek.”
“You’re more worried about that than you are about me? I might be dead in two days.”
“I hope not.” Sovilla dreaded Wilma’s operation on Thursday too, but although hip replacements might be painful, they most likely would not be fatal.
“A lot you’d care. You’ll probably rejoice. After all, you’ll be an heiress.”
“There are more important things than money.” They’d already been over this. What would it take to get her aenti to see the truth? “I’ve already told you, I’d rather you lived than to have all the money in the world.”
“Humph. I doubt that.”
Before Sovilla could answer, Wilma turned into the parking lot. Nearby, an old truck rumbled toward the auction. The passenger craned his neck to stare right at Sovilla. Isaac!
She turned her attention away and prayed her aenti didn’t notice. Sovilla hoped Isaac wouldn’t come to the stand today. With only two days until Wilma’s operation, Sovilla didn’t want to stir doubts and worries in her aenti’s mind.
Wilma parked close to the building instead of finding a distant and secluded space to keep the car safe. Another clue her hips hurt. Sovilla had loaded the car this morning, and her aenti hadn’t helped at all.
“I can carry in the pickles while you set up,” Sovilla offered.
To her amazement, Wilma agreed. She unlocked the trunk, and Sovilla carried in the first box. When she returned for the next one, Isaac was standing by the car with Snickers seated by his feet.
“A-are you all r-right?”
“How did you know?” She hadn’t told anyone about Henry, not even her aenti.
“L-Leanne.”
Sovilla’s brain had been whirling since yesterday’s letter, and Isaac’s words made no sense. She’d seen Leanne Sunday, not yesterday. Oh, right. Sunday night. Did Leanne tell him about my fears?
Isaac appeared upset, like he’d trespassed into something private.
“I’m sorry. So much has happened the past few days.” Actually, it had only been one day and a few hours this morning. “Did Leanne say I was worried about Wilma being angry because I’d sneaked out for the singing?”
He nodded. “I p-prayed.”
“Danke. It must have helped. Her anger didn’t last long. She seems to be more focused on her surgery this Thursday.”
“S-sorry.”
“I’m sorry for her too. She’s scared she’s going to die. I keep trying to reassure her, but it hasn’t worked.”
The sympathy in Isaac’s eyes told her he cared. “I’ll p-pray.”
Sovilla smiled to let him know how much she appreciated that. “Danke. She’ll need a lot of prayer.” Wilma might not believe prayer worked, but Sovilla depended on God’s help and trusted His power.
Sovilla waved toward the auction building. “I think your brother’s looking for you.” Andrew headed in their direction.
With a goodbye nod and one last reluctant glance at her, Isaac took off across the parking lot, with Snickers trotting beside him.
“Isaac,” she called after him, “please don’t come to the stand today.”
He halted and turned around, his eyes filled with hurt.
She hadn’t meant she didn’t want him to visit. Although she wanted to tell him that, she’d rather not give him the wrong idea. Sovilla tried to soften the blow. “I don’t want to upset Wilma.”
He nodded to let her know he understood, but the sadness in his expression didn’t change.
The last thing Sovilla wanted to do was to be unkind. She’d just experienced a painful rejection herself. She didn’t want to snub Isaac.
With Andrew so close, she couldn’t risk telling Isaac she liked his visits. She’d seen his brother tease him.
Before she could say any more, Isaac and Snickers sprinted toward Andrew, leaving Sovilla staring after him, wishing she could talk to him. Being around Isaac always calmed her. And she desperately needed that peace.
* * *
Andrew planted his hands on his hips as Isaac ran toward him. “Do you plan on doing any work today?”
Isaac wished he could snap at his brother. I’ve done the same amount as you. I even helped load and unload the chickens. He’d also checked the schedule to see when their livestock would be auctioned. He had twenty minutes.
It didn’t matter, though. He’d been hoping to help Sovilla unload and talk to her a bit more, but she’d dismissed him and told him not to come to the stand. No pretzels for him today.
Andrew studied him. “What’s the matter with you? Did I hear her tell you to stay away from her?”
“Neh.” Isaac regretted the denial as soon as it passed his lips. No amount of justifying it to himself—she’d said to stay away from the stand, not her—didn’t change the fact that he’d lied.
Staying away from the stand meant staying away from her, didn’t it? Had she meant it’d be all right after today? Or had she hoped he’d take the hint and not return at all?
The questions tumbled around in his mind most of the day. Had she brushed him off or only warned him away because of Wilma?
* * *
Although Sovilla received a scolding for taking so long to bring in the second carton, Wilma didn’t question her. Sovilla hoped Isaac listened and didn’t come for a pretzel. She’d like to keep everything peaceful for Wilma before her operation.
Her eyes focused on the distance, Wilma lumbered through the morning. Several times, she sat on the stool behind the counter and ignored the customers. She didn’t even have the energy to make sharp, critical remarks. Twice she gave customers the wrong change.
The first time Sovilla pointed it out to her aenti and then cringed, expecting an explosion. But Wilma only recounted the money and handed over the correct amount.
The second time, a sweet Mennonite lady returned the extra five dollars Wilma had given her. Instead of making excuses, Wilma stared at the bill blankly. Then she nodded and put it in the cash register.
Sovilla had little time to worry over her aenti’s uncharacteristic behavior, because business stayed brisk until almost lunchtime. Sometimes, they experienced a brief lull as shoppers flocked to the food counters to eat. To Sovilla’s relief, business slowed, and Wilma sank onto the stool.
Sovilla was filling the empty spots on the shelves with more jars of pickles when an elderly woman hobbled up to the counter. She leaned on her cane and appeared shaky. Wilma didn’t seem to notice h
er, so Sovilla rushed over.
“Good morning, Wilma,” the woman said, and when she received no answer, she turned to Sovilla with a smile, “You must be her niece Sovilla. I’m Liesl Vandenberg.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sovilla had heard that last name mentioned before, but she couldn’t place it.
“I understand you’ll be going into the hospital on Thursday, Wilma. With Sovilla being Amish, I thought you might need a driver. I’m sure you won’t want to bump along in a buggy.”
When her aenti didn’t look up or answer, Sovilla responded. “I don’t have a buggy, so thank you for your offer.”
Liesl Vandenberg didn’t look like any of the drivers in Sugarcreek. Everything about her screamed wealth. And, not to be unkind, but the woman appeared ancient. Was she even capable of driving?
“No buggy? My goodness. How do you plan to get to work?”
Sovilla hadn’t even thought about that. Her mind had been too filled with being in a strange place, adjusting to her temperamental aenti, missing her family, and fretting over Henry. Thinking of him brought a fresh wave of sorrow.
Pushing aside those feelings before they swamped her, Sovilla admitted, “I don’t know.”
“Well, we’ll have to remedy that.” A secretive smile crossed her face. “And I have the perfect solution. I’ll make the arrangements.”
What? A stranger just waltzed up and started to tell them what to do with their lives? Sovilla waited for her aenti to blast the woman, but Wilma stayed silent.
“You’ll also need rides to the hospital, Sovilla. That’s quite a distance from the house. A car would be more comfortable for that. I’ll take care of it.”
Sovilla stood there dumbfounded. Drivers in Sugarcreek waited for you to call them. They didn’t come around and insist they’d be taking you somewhere. Is this how it worked in Lancaster?
Liesl Vandenberg didn’t give Sovilla time to explain that she couldn’t afford to pay a driver. Instead, she plunged ahead. “I understand you plan to sell baked goods here while Wilma’s recovering. What did you plan to sell?”
With a quick glance at her aenti, Sovilla said, “Pies, donuts, granola.” She hesitated. Should she mention her other product idea? This woman looked like the type to pamper a dog. Maybe she’d be a customer. “Also, organic dog biscuits and pet foods.”
Mrs. Vandenberg’s face lit up. “What a brilliant idea. I’m so glad you won’t be competing with Fern. I worried about that.”
“I don’t want to do that. I like Fern.”
Once again, Wilma didn’t contradict Sovilla to insist she make the same baked goods as Fern or tell her making organic dog biscuits was crazy. What had happened to her aenti? Was she even listening to this conversation?
Sovilla glanced over. Wilma was slumped on the stool, head in hands. Mrs. Vandenberg turned her attention in that direction while Sovilla waited on the occasional customers. But she couldn’t help listening to the nearby conversation.
“Wilma,” Mrs. Vandenberg said in a crisp, no-nonsense voice, “stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re not the first person to have hip replacement surgery. I had this hip replaced ten years ago when I was in my eighties.” Teetering on her cane, she patted her other side.
Sucking in a breath, Sovilla started to make a dash toward Mrs. Vandenberg to catch her before she fell. But the elderly woman grasped the counter to steady herself.
“I broke my other hip recently. I’m not going to lie—both operations were painful. But you’ll survive.”
“You don’t know that.” Wilma glared, but her expression didn’t hold its normal venom.
“I do know that few patients die, and you’re much younger and healthier than I was either time.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t—”
“Are you ready to meet your Maker?” Mrs. Vandenberg’s voice vibrated with sympathy. “People who are right with God can be at peace whatever the outcome.”
“I don’t believe in that stuff.”
Mrs. Vandenberg trained a piercing gaze on Wilma. “Don’t you?”
Wilma didn’t answer. She stared down at the floor and twisted her gnarled hands in her lap.
“I suspect you once believed it.” Mrs. Vandenberg spoke with confidence.
“Maybe I did, but things change.” Wilma glared at Mrs. Vandenberg. “You don’t understand. Nobody does.”
“Why don’t you tell us?” Her tone came across as a warm, caring invitation.
“I—I can’t.” Wilma covered her face with her hands.
“Sometimes keeping old pain bottled up inside makes us hit out at others. But those people aren’t responsible. You’ve hidden a great sorrow under all that anger.”
Sovilla marveled at Mrs. Vandenberg’s insight. Sovilla, too, had often sensed that softer, wounded part of her aenti.
Wilma moaned and shook her head, shielding her face with her hands.
“When you’re ready to let it go, trust it to God. He’ll forgive anything. And He’s the only one who can heal old hurts.”
Sovilla braced for her aenti’s bitter answer, her usual response to any mention of God. Yet it never came.
“What time do you need to be at the hospital on Thursday?” Mrs. Vandenberg asked.
When Wilma kept her head bowed, Sovilla answered, “Eight o’clock.”
“The car will be out in front of your house by seven fifteen. That’ll give you time to get to the hospital, find your way around, and do the paperwork.”
“D-danke.”
“Happy to help.” She started to shuffle away, but then she turned. “Although I like the idea of selling pet food, I am concerned about it being sold with human food. I’d suggest using this side of the counter for pies and donuts. This shorter leg of the counter around the corner would be best for pet treats. That way, people won’t get mixed up.”
Sovilla hadn’t planned to intermingle her dog biscuits with her other baked goods, but she didn’t contradict the elderly woman. “That’s a good idea.”
“Oh, and why don’t you close the stand until next Tuesday? You’ll want to spend the first few days after Wilma’s operation with her. And she’ll be glad for company. Believe me, I know.”
“If she’s not planning my funeral,” Wilma said darkly.
Mrs. Vandenberg wagged a finger. “Positive thinking works wonders. And I’ll be praying.”
Although Sovilla had answered all the woman’s questions out of politeness, Mrs. Vandenberg’s take-charge attitude made Sovilla uncomfortable. She kept waiting for Wilma to jump in and attack the elderly woman for being so intrusive. Yet her aenti never did. Even when she contradicted Mrs. Vandenberg, Wilma lacked her usual fire.
After Mrs. Vandenberg left, Sovilla ventured a quick comment. “She’s very sure of herself.”
Before Sovilla could ask if the older woman’s behavior had bothered her aenti, Wilma retorted, “That’s why she ended up as the owner of the market.”
“She owns the market?” Now the expensive clothes and handbag made sense. “I thought she was a driver for the Amish.”
Wilma snorted. Then rusty peals of laughter erupted from her mouth. “Mrs. Vandenberg—a driver?” She said it again several times as if she couldn’t believe anyone could make that mistake. She accompanied each repetition with snickers.
Sovilla didn’t find it as humorous as her aenti did, but from the sounds of it, Wilma hadn’t laughed in years. Humor might be healing.
By the time her aenti got control of herself, she had to wipe her streaming eyes. “Mrs. Vandenberg turned the market over to Gideon.”
“Gideon? The one from Hartzler’s Chicken Barbecue?”
“That’s the one.”
He also hadn’t come across as the boss—not of the whole market—when Sovilla had worked in his stand. Now she remembered, he’d been the one who’d mentioned Mrs. Vandenberg. He’d said he had to run something by her.
“Gideon’s the real owner, but she holds the mortgage, so that gives her
say over what happens here. She believes in being hands-on.”
“I see.” Sovilla hoped she hadn’t said anything to offend Mrs. Vandenberg.
Wilma chuckled again. “The only car you’ll see on Thursday will be the limo with her driver. And don’t worry about paying her. She won’t let you. She also runs a charity and is known for her generosity.”
Sovilla would still offer to pay. She didn’t feel right taking something without doing anything in return.
Chapter Seventeen
Isaac looked up from loading chickens into a customer’s truck to see Mrs. Vandenberg beckoning him. He held up a hand to let her know he’d be right there. She nodded and made her way to a picnic table.
Gut. He wouldn’t have to worry about her toppling over.
As soon as he was done, he and Snickers hurried to the table. He always enjoyed talking to Mrs. Vandenberg.
“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked.
With a smile, Isaac sat across from her. He patted the bench beside him, and Snickers hopped up.
“First of all,” she said, “have you had a chance to practice Demosthenes’s technique and the other information I gave you?”
Isaac wanted to prove it to her, so he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and pushed out a loud “Jah.” He’d done it. Gotten out an answer without stuttering.
“Wonderful.” She beamed. “Once you learn to modulate it a little, it’ll be perfect.”
He nodded to let her know that had been his plan. Unfortunately, he hadn’t learned how to do that for whole sentences. And the effort it took him to speak on the outbreath meant he had little control of his volume—yet.
“Don’t look so discouraged. It’s a big change, and you’re coming along nicely.”
He drew in a breath and managed an explosive “Danke.”
“What about Demosthenes? Are you still working with the pebbles?”
“G-gravel.”
“That’ll help too. I want you to invite me to your first speech.”
Isaac laughed. He’d like to invite her to hear one full sentence. He’d be thrilled to get to that point.
An Unexpected Amish Courtship Page 15