by Beverly Bird
“Okay.” Kim washed her hands and headed for the front door. Several buggies were piled at the curb, hemming in her Mazda. Only one of them was the open kind. She went to it and peered in. There were easily fifty loaves of bread in the back—home baked, wrapped in paper towels. Very large loaves. “Good God!” She groaned and turned away quickly, then leaned her back against the wagon and slid down slowly until she was sitting against the wheel, cradling her head in her hands.
Susannah raced by on her way home from Adam’s. “Mom! Isn’t this great?”
“Terrific,” Kim muttered. She vowed in that moment never to complain about cooking on Thanksgiving again.
By noon, somehow, miraculously, everything was done. The sheer number of things they had accomplished boggled Kim’s mind. Then again, easily fifty people had chipped in.
The “roasts”—mixtures of Adam’s chickens and the bread, butter, celery and onions—had been poured into casserole dishes. One by one, they’d departed Joe’s home to be taken to various woodstoves elsewhere. Joe’s own stove held four of them. Kim stood idle for the first time since dawn and looked around the kitchen dazedly. That was when Joe burst in.
“I can’t find it,” he said. “I can’t find it!”
Kim’s jaw fell slowly. Then her pulse kicked hard enough to leave her dizzy. He had on trousers, but he was barefoot. He wore no shirt. The chest she had leaned against a few days ago in the doctor’s office looked no less strong when it was naked. It was broad, muscled, impossibly toned. A fine vee of dark hair tapered down between his nipples and dove into the top of his pants. She had seen a lot of men wearing a lot less on California beaches, but as she stared at him, her pulse thumped so loudly she was sure it echoed in the room. She couldn’t swallow.
“What?” she croaked finally. “Can’t find what?”
“Adam’s letter.”
“He wrote you a letter?”
“It was signed by all the elders.”
“What elders?”
“Me, the rest of us. Well, not me. Not yet.”
“Joe, you’re making no sense.” What he was, she thought, was as rattled as she had ever seen him.
That made two of them.
He took a deep breath. “Adam had to have a letter signed by all the elders, stating his good standing in this gemeide. It was no small feat, either, after he just lived with Mariah all those months. Well, they lived together with the civil marriage license. But he repented for that and he got baptized, and finally they all signed the letter. I’ve got to present it at the service.”
“And it’s missing.”
“It’s missing,” he said miserably.
“Joe, there are more kids around here than in your average kindergarten class.”
“So?”
“Eye level—a kid’s eye level. Wherever their little hands can reach—that’s where we have to search.”
He gave her a look that could have been either dubious or awed.
“I raised a toddler in a one-room apartment,” she explained wryly.
Twenty minutes later, they found the letter stuck into the Bible in the keeping room. “Delilah,” Joe muttered. “It must have been Katya’s Delilah. She’s the only one who’s precisely that short. This house is a zoo.”
“Well,” Kim said, “they’ll all be leaving tomorrow.” She turned away from him, suddenly uncomfortable again. That would leave just her and Susannah, alone with him for all intents and purposes. His kids would mostly be off at school. She glanced at his chest and away again.
Joe rushed out of the room. She had a headache.
She followed him upstairs at a good distance to find the one dress she had brought with her. Something told her that if she showed up in her beloved jeans, she’d get booted out of the ceremony. She paused and thought about that. And then she decided that she wanted to be there. She wanted to see Adam married. After all, she was the one who had chopped up most of those chickens. It was nothing more than that. Nothing at all.
Kim rode to Adam’s small spread with Joe and Nathaniel. Dinah had gone ahead with the other children in the open buggy—not to be confused with one of the wooden wagons, Kim had realized. The one Dinah had taken was sleek and trim and black. They rode in an enclosed one. It startled her as soon as she climbed inside. The dashboard was teak. The horse’s reins trailed in through small slots there. It was carpeted and the bench seat was of some pretty nice upholstery.
“So much for finer automobiles,” she muttered.
Joe glanced at her. She liked that he didn’t have to be reminded of their conversation of the other day, on that uncomfortable ride to the doctor’s office.
“They’re all the same,” he answered. “Abe Miller makes them for us. The only differences are brass or silver hardware, and the color of the upholstery and carpet. Personal choice, you know.” Then he thought about it. “Actually, there’s not much difference there, either. They’re all some shade of blue or purple.”
“Like your shirts,” she blurted. Well, she had awoken every morning for days now with the things hanging on the wall in front of her, she thought.
“Yes.” He cleared his throat and took up the reins. “You look...very fine.”
Kim blushed. Blushed She never blushed. “It’s...uh, okay, then?” She looked down at the plain burgundy dress she wore. It was knit, with a full skirt that fell to midcalf. She’d had to wear her boots with it—she had never thought to bring heels. The dress itself had been an afterthought, thrown into her suitcase at the last minute just in case. Still, the ensemble wasn’t entirely unfashionable. At least not in the real world, as she was increasingly coming to think of it.
“It’s perfect,” Joe said. What he liked about it—and what he hated—was the way it clung as far down as her hips. He decided not to think about that.
“It’s not blue,” she said. “Or purple.”
He shrugged. “You’re not Amish. And there’s no rule about color anyway. Just prints.”
“Prints are bad,” she guessed.
“Too varied. Someone could get a leg up on somebody else. You know, if Frida had flowers and poor Gretchen just had plain old stripes, for instance.”
“I see.”
“As for the blue and purple bit, they just seem to be the fashion lately. For, say, the past century or so.”
She laughed. She liked the way he almost mocked his own culture—fondly so, as though he were talking about a beloved but recalcitrant child. Then she felt Nathaniel staring at them. She glanced over at the young man, then looked forward again fast at his sharp expression.
“Jake and Katya are leaving tomorrow,” Joe said.
“I know that, Pa,” Nathaniel answered.
“They’re going to rent a car in the city to get back to the airport. They’ll be glad to drop you in Berks on their way.”
Nathaniel’s face hardened. “Berks isn’t on the way to Philly—not last time I checked.”
“Just the same.”
Kim jumped when the boy punched a fist against his thigh. “I don’t like this, Pa. I don’t like it at all.”
“But you won’t do anything to disrupt Adam and Mariah’s wedding,” Joe said. “We can’t argue about it now.”
Nathaniel’s face became mottled. “That’s plain unfair.” Joe gave a small, pained smile. “I know.”
“You can’t make me.”
“No. Of course I can’t. But I can tell you that if you remain, you’ll break my heart.” He let that sink in. “Nathaniel, Kimberley will be staying with me awhile.”
They hadn’t told any of the kids yet, not even Susannah. There had been too much commotion with the wedding. Inside the tiny vehicle, Kim could feel Nathaniel’s confusion and uncertainty.
“Susannah needs to be close to that new doctor fellow in Philadelphia for a bit,” Joe explained. “So Kimberley has agreed to take care of the house while she’s here.” He paused before he added, “And the baby.”
“Her name’s Hannah, Pa.”<
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“I know that,” Joe snapped.
Kim was suddenly aware of how horribly difficult it was for him to send his son away. When he continued, his voice was even more strained.
“This will give Dinah some more free time. And Gracie should be able to get some sleep now. The sisters will go. Crops are in. Farm’s just sitting.”
“Cows still need to be milked and tended,” Nathaniel said stubbornly.
“Seems to me I’ve been milking cows for thirty-nine years. I’ll handle it.”
“What about spring? What about the planting?”
Joe let out a sigh. “What do we ever do, Nathaniel? We all help one another come that time. For that matter, you can come home to help, too.”
They had reached Adam and Mariah’s house. The whole rear paddock was already crammed with buggies. They were also squeezed in beside the small barn in the back. A few of them were stuck in front of the house. The horses were gone, presumably out grazing somewhere.
“Okay?” Joe said to his son.
“Don’t have a choice, do I?”
“No. But—”
Joe broke off. Something about his voice made Kim’s skin actually pull into gooseflesh this time.
“I will tell you this. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”
With that, Joe got out of the buggy. Nathaniel went after him. Kim watched them walk to the house side by side, one of them angry, both of them pained, but...together. She rubbed her hands over her arms. His voice, she thought. Oh, the pain there. And the strength and the kindness.
Don’t think about it. Don’t you dare let him get to you!
“He’s still in love with his wife,” she whispered. “And Suze is so sick.” And I can’t give him anything, she thought. He gave so much to others, and she couldn’t give anything at all. Especially not now.
That, she thought, was the whole thing in a nutshell. Oh, she could keep his house for a while and change his baby’s diapers. She could stick a bottle in the kid’s mouth when she woke up hungry in the night. But she couldn’t give him anything. So it was just senseless to get too cozy, too comfortable, too involved with them and their problems.
She had tried to give something to a man. She had tried to pretend, with Mark, that she was whole and that the past was past. That the unset bone in her arm didn’t still throb sometimes when it was damp. Don’t trust him, an inner voice had always said. Mark could go off like a rocket at any time, too. Don’t let your guard down or he’ll hurt you.
Men were not to be trusted. She knew that. Her father had been a maniac. Even her brothers had saved their own hides first. They were willing to help now because their own hides were safe and sound, and she didn’t blame them for that.
They’ve moved beyond it, an insidious little voice in her head said again.
“No!” she protested aloud. Damn it, she’d moved beyond it, also, in her fashion. She’d created a solid, safe world for herself and her daughter. She’d done it alone. She’d done it well, with what little she’d had to work with. And they would weather this, too, she thought. They’d found Dr. Coyle. Susannah would be okay. She had to be. And together, just the two of them, they would go on. Safe and sound.
Joe had reached Adam’s front door. He looked back for her quizzically. Kim got out of the carriage on wooden legs and went to join him.
The people ate first. That was tradition. Close to four hundred of them milled between the house and the barn in the cleared part of the yard. Adam’s small property was straining at the seams.
The food was everywhere. There were the roasts, and mashed potatoes and gravy. There was creamed celery, pepper cabbage and steaming rolls. There were home-preserved pears and peaches, and puddings and cakes and pies.
Joe watched Kimberley as she wandered about. His heart still hurt from his conversation with Nathaniel, but he found that watching her lightened the pain a bit. Though there were rows upon rows of tables set out, she didn’t sit. She remained basically outside, her leather jacket hiding most of that dress. She watched, avid, curious and nonjudgmental.
Of all the anner Satt Leits Joe had met over the years, only two had simply accepted what they saw in this settlement or his old one in Berks. Both Adam Wallace and his sister seemed to look around and say, well, if this is how you choose to live, then go for it and be happy. Adam, at least, had never anticipated the peace he would find here, or that he would end up staying. Kimberley knew she would be staying—for a while, anyway. And she fought that peace tooth and nail.
Jacob, Joe thought, had been another story altogether. From start to finish he had pretty much bucked their culture, bending willingly and without reserve only so far as was required to save the missing children. And Jake hadn’t stayed here.
One by one, his eyes found all three Wallaces, then they went back to Kimberley. Someone offered her one of the chicken casseroles. She shook her head and backed off fast. Joe heard himself laugh quietly. He’d been just about as impressed as he could get when she had actually rolled up her shirtsleeves that morning to butcher the birds. Like the willow, he thought again. Tough...but pliable.
He felt his throat close painfully. There was no good sense in coming to like her so much, he told himself. He had allowed himself to be swept away by his idea that she should stay awhile because he needed a solution so desperately. Because she needed a solution. But now that the issue was settled, he thought that a reasonable man would keep his distance. A reasonable man would cohabitate with her on a polite and proper basis.
But as he watched, her jacket slid from her shoulders. She was holding a plate, and could not move quickly enough to catch the garment. And Joe felt something heat inside him at the way the burgundy knit clung to her high, round breasts and nipped in at her waist. He decided that his hands could span her waist entirely.
He wanted to look away and couldn’t. She put her plate down quickly on the edge of the nearest table and dove for the jacket. Her long, midnight hair spilled forward over her shoulders, and his heart pounded and his hands itched to gather it.
“Inside, please, everyone,” called a voice from the back door.
Joe glanced that way, and he felt his face flame. It was Paul Gehler. Their bishop. Sarah’s father.
The older man gazed at him and their eyes met. Does he see inside me? Joe wondered. Does he know I’m thinking about another woman, with his daughter not in her grave half a year yet? Dear God in heaven, how could I want Kim? Now could I want anyone after my wanting, my selfishness, killed Sarah? Sarah had been the only woman in his thoughts for half his lifetime.
Joe put his own plate down quickly and hurried inside. He meant to continue to keep his distance from Kim, but it wasn’t possible. The people couldn’t all fit inside for the ceremony. Adam and Mariah had no keeping room. The ceremony would take place in the living room. Immediate family was ushered in first, but that only amounted to Bo, Jake, Katya and Katya’s kids. And Kim and Susannah. Mariah’s family was conspicuously absent, as Joe had known they, would be.
Adam and Mariah’s closest friends came next. Which meant him and his children and the Stoltzfuses. Joe found himself squeezed in next to Kimberley on a bench close to the front of the room.
Others poured in behind them. The furniture had been moved out to make way for the benches, and Kim sat carefully, giving Joe a weak smile. His responding one was just as wobbly around the edges. She wondered why, and told herself she shouldn’t care. She faced forward again. It occurred to her that this bench was going to feel damned uncomfortable three hours from now.
She was right. It was uncomfortable after half an hour. And she learned something else, another reason it was feasible for this whole thing to be pulled together in just a couple of days’ time. There were no bouquets. There were no rings. No pianist or organist, photographers or ornate white gowns. Except for the incomprehensible meal they had just partaken of, Adam and Mariah could just as easily have eloped. But even that, she thought, would have req
uired rings in the...well, in the real world.
Mariah wore a deep purple dress not unlike any other Kim had ever seen on her. And yet, somehow, she was the most beautiful bride Kim had ever known. She was radiant. She never stopped smiling. Her pregnancy seemed a bit jarring, but from the snatches of conversation Kim had overheard outside, she realized that everyone was celebrating the fact that Adam had accepted the church and that they had gotten married in it before the baby arrived.
As for Adam, he looked pretty magnificent, too, she admitted. And happy, so very happy. She was getting used to his beard, although it was coming in in about five different shades of blond and gold. He wore a black coat and a vest, and a small bow tie.
There were four...well, attendants, Kim decided to call them. One could hardly call them bridesmaids or groomsmen. They, too, wore their customary clothing—except the two men also wore bow ties. They consisted of Nathaniel and Dinah, and a young man and woman Kim hadn’t met yet.
She’d meant to keep some emotional distance from Joe, but she found herself leaning into him a little. “How come Jake and Katya don’t stand up for them?” she whispered.
“They’re married, and attendants must be single. Not to mention the fact that Jake isn’t Amish and Katya’s been shunned.”
“Ah,” Kim said. She looked at her other brother and his wife. Except for Jake, there was a little gap of isolation around Katya. No one looked at her, at least not when anyone else might notice. There were a few surreptitious glances of pure bafflement and utter horror. It didn’t seem to bother her. “I hate that,” Kim whispered fervently. “I hate that they do that to her...
“It’s unfortunate,” Joe agreed. “But she’s a strong woman. She can handle it. She lost a lot when she left here, but look at all she’s gained. And I think she’s wise enough to balance it.”
They sat through another two and a half hours of what was essentially a worship service. They sang—in German. They prayed—in German. A handsome man with blond-gray hair gave not one, but two sermons. Kim imagined he was the bishop Joe had spoken of.