“Well, Dat’s sure not over here hanging up the washing, is he?” Mandy’s eyes twinkled. “What’ll you say if he asks you ridin’ Sunday night?”
“You’ll never know, will ya?” Grace teased right back.
Mandy laughed out loud. No doubt the cheery sound carried all the way down to the sheep-grazing land. “You do like him!”
Her sister’s carrying on so annoyed Grace, and she was worried Yonnie might overhear their nonsense. “Keep quiet.”
Mandy ducked under Dat’s large bed sheet, her face turning red. “Sorry, sister.”
“You’re anything but sorry.” Grace shook her head, trying to keep from laughing.
A breeze picked up the ends of the sheets, and a flock of birds fluttered up over the silo. Truth was, the more she thought on it, the more she worried Yonnie might be brazen enough to approach her at Singing, like Mandy suggested. Then what? Or was it best if she stayed at home and didn’t go at all?
Immediately after breaking up with Henry, she’d never wanted to go to another youth gathering. Lots of the available girls—even some of the fellows—were in their teens and younger than she was. Grace was older than all of them, having been mighty picky about the boys she’d go with, then poking around too long, deciding what to do about Henry.
Yet oddly enough, she was curious to see if Prissy was right—were the fellows now leery of her? And if they weren’t, what then? And, too, what of Henry and Becky—would it be awkward for them if she showed up? “Not that I want to court ever again,” she said under her breath.
Mandy poked her head under a green dress hanging on the line. “You talkin’ to yourself?”
“None of your beeswax.”
Mandy let out another giggle, and when Grace glanced toward the barn, Yonnie was just heading back in, a tiny lamb cradled in his arms.
Grace felt convicted at not having kept herself in check. It wouldn’t do for Mandy or anyone else to be getting any ideas. Yonnie especially.
“Sister?” Mandy asked. “I need to help muck out the barn with Adam and Joe. I figure you have the housework covered.”
“You shouldn’t be out there doin’ men’s work, you silly.”
“It’s just so much fun gettin’ to know my future brother-in-law,” Mandy quipped, flouncing off with a wave.
“You’ve got weddings on the brain!” Grace pushed a final clothespin down hard on Dat’s clean for-good shirt, then returned to the house.
Adah could hear everything Grace and Mandy were saying outside. Their voices drifted right in through the kitchen window, where she was making Jakob’s oatmeal—his favorite first course most mornings.
She caught herself snickering every time Grace tried to hush Mandy. Just look what Lettie’s missing out on, she thought.
Adah reached for the cinnamon and thoroughly coated the top of the cereal. Then she made a small dimple in the middle for a dab of butter, fresh from Riehls’ dairy. She placed the bowl on a tray and carried it upstairs to Jakob, who was under the weather again.
“This should make ya feel better, love,” she said, going into the bedroom.
He inched his way up into a sitting position, then pulled the quilt flat against his lap. “There, now put the tray down,” he muttered.
She kissed his cheek and sat down to read the Good Book aloud, but it was clear her husband was flustered.
“I’ll read it myself later on,” he mumbled.
“All right, then.” She rose and placed the Bible on the bed. “I’ll leave ya be.”
“I didn’t say to go away,” he huffed. “Just want some quiet . . . that’s all.”
She wasn’t sure if he even knew his own mind. “Well, do ya want me in here just a-breathin’?”
A crooked smile crossed his face. “You’re a gut one!”
She went to stand in the doorway, hands folded, watching him eat . . . her husband sitting there, perched like a black crow in their bed. He looked so small and nearly helpless. How many more years did they have, Lord willing?
“I love you, old man,” she said softly.
He turned his head to look at her, his glassy blue eyes glistening. “I’ve been wonderin’ when I might hear that again.” He gave her a weak smile.
“Aw, Jakob . . . what’s a-matter?”
“It’s Lettie. I can’t get over what she’s done.”
Adah reached for the cane chair near the bureau and drew it up close to the bed. “There, there. Our daughter’s in God’s hands. Never forget.”
He frowned, his right hand still holding the spoon as it sank deeper into the hot oatmeal. “Ain’t something you’d ever think of doin’, is it?”
“Might’ve thought of it . . . ” Adah smiled and he caught the joke. “Aw, you know I’d never leave ya, Jakob Esh.” And she meant it with all of her heart, just as she had the day they’d wed so long ago.
chapter
twenty - three
Grace couldn’t believe it, but there Yonnie was, stacking up the dirty dishes right behind her. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling too broadly as she ran the dishwater. Why is he doing this?
Never had she known Dat or Dawdi Jakob to help in the kitchen. Men just didn’t. Their realm of work was outdoors, in the barn or in the fields, though a growing number of local Amishmen spent most of their time in blacksmith or carpentry shops.
Yonnie gingerly set a pile of dishes down on the counter. “There.” He eyed them. “Thought you could use some help.”
“I see that.”
He stood there with hands in his pockets now, grinning. “What’re you lookin’ at?”
“Do you sweep kitchen floors, too?” she asked, only half jesting. There seemed to be no end to the surprises where Yonnie was concerned.
He chuckled. “Sometimes.”
“Indiana must be quite the strange place.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s just that . . . well . . . around here, men don’t do dishes.”
Yonnie nodded. “Actually, things aren’t that different in Indiana, but my parents . . . well, they don’t always observe the do’s and don’ts like some Plain couples.”
“Ach, really?”
Yonnie shrugged.
Grace was curious. “Like what else?”
“Well, for one thing, my Dat sometimes helped with my baby brothers.” He rubbed his chin and looked away. “Better not say more.”
She couldn’t keep her smile in check any longer. “He changed diapers, ya mean?”
“I didn’t say that, now, did I? But he did sometimes carry the smelliest ones to the diaper pail.” Now he was chuckling. “You’d like my father, I’m sure of it.”
“He must’ve grown up with older sisters.”
Yonnie nodded, grinning.
“How many?”
“Achde—eight.”
“Un Bruder?”
“Plenty of brothers, too, jah.” He chuckled. “You’d feel mighty sorry for him if he had only sisters, wouldn’t ya?”
She agreed. Naturally she would.
Yonnie glanced toward the barn. “Well, I ought to be goin’—your father will wonder what’s become of me.”
“Jah . . . Dat’s waitin’.” She didn’t smile this time. “Denki for your help.”
“Anytime,” he said but stayed put. Then he pulled something out of his pocket. “Before I go, I wanted to show you this.” There in his palm lay the prettiest, round glasslike stone. “It’s the Cape May diamond I was tellin’ you about. The one I found on the seashore.”
Without thinking, she touched it. “Oh, it’s so smooth . . . so beautiful.”
He handed it to her. “And it’s yours, Gracie.”
“But . . . ”
“I want you to have it.”
“Yonnie . . . ” She was conscious of his gaze. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
She shook her head, marveling that he wanted to part with such a lovely treasure
. “I don’t know what to say, honestly.”
He smiled as her fingers closed over it.
“Denki . . . ever so much,” she said. The sudden slosh of water behind her drew her attention back to the now-overflowing sink. “Ach, goodness!” Grace hurried to turn off the faucet.
He said no more and pushed open the screen door, making his way down the steps.
She clasped Yonnie’s sea jewel and tiptoed to the window to peer out, staying carefully out of sight, lest he turn around and see her there.
“I’m planning to bake some cookies to take to the Spanglers,” Grace said as she marked the hem on Mammi Adah’s almost-completed dress.
Her grandmother peered down from her perch. “Sounds nice.”
“Turn slowly.” Grace pulled the pins out of her mouth and stuck them in the pincushion, glad for a nice breeze coming through the open window.
Mammi rotated slightly. Then she must’ve raised her shoulders just enough for Grace to notice a difference in the hem length. “Marian says the family’s in turmoil,” Mammi said softly.
Same as us . . . Grace didn’t let on what Jessica had shared with her last week. “Well, some sweets might just cheer them up, jah?” she said, weaving a pin into the hem.
Mammi Adah said nothing as Grace quickly finished the pinning. It was one thing to talk amongst themselves about the People, and quite another to waste time gossiping about their English neighbors.
When Grace arrived at their next-door neighbors to the south, Brittany Spangler came to the door. Her pretty face broke into a smile as she spied the plate heaped with cookies. “Oh, Gracie, you shouldn’t have! Thanks so much!” Quickly she called to Jessica, who wandered to the door, still in her bathrobe and slippers.
“Uh, don’t mind me. It’s been one of those days.” Jessica looked rather miserable.
“Excuse me.” Brittany reached for a cookie and disappeared with a wave of thanks.
“It’s great to see you, Grace. And not just because you brought some fabulous cookies,” Jessica said, moving out to the front porch. “Can you stay for a few minutes?”
Grace nodded. “Sure, for a little while.” She had hoped Jessica might have time to chat. With talk about the Spanglers beginning to circulate between Mammi and Marian, she was more concerned for her friend than ever.
“Has there been any more word from your mother?” Jessica asked as she set the cookies down on the small table positioned between two cushiony chairs. Grace took the chair facing toward the cornfield to the south.
Everyone seems to be asking. . . .
“I hope you don’t mind,” Jessica was quick to add.
“It’s all right—and, no, she hasn’t called or written again, if that’s what you mean.” Grace had mentioned Mamma’s letter to Jessica when she’d stopped by with the eggs last Tuesday. “Honestly, Jessica, I’ve been thinking of going to look for her.”
“Wow, are you serious?”
“I’m not sayin’ I will. But I have considered it more than once.”
Pulling her bare legs under her, Jessica draped her blue bathrobe down over them. “I can’t blame you. I’d probably want to do the same thing . . . if I knew where to look.”
Grace asked on impulse, “I don’t s’pose you could drive me out to Indiana—if I paid for the gasoline?”
Jessica’s brow pinched into a frown. “Oh, Grace, I’d love to . . . but there’s just no way right now. I have to work like crazy.”
“Well, such a trip’s not practical for me, either, even though I’m not getting many hours at Eli’s these days.” She might’ve known Jessica’s work would keep her tied down, especially with the expenses she’d need to cover for her wedding next winter. “Actually, I should stay put, too. Ain’t such a gut time, really. And Mandy’s awful busy helpin’ with lambing now, so I’m needed inside,” Grace told her. “Sometimes Andy Riehl even comes over at night to help Dat and the boys trade off caring for the newest lambs.”
“Sounds like you’re picking up the slack for your mother, though.”
“Well, it’s hard to step into her shoes.” Grace hadn’t meant to complain.
Jessica wrapped her arms around her legs, leaning her chin on her knees. “I really don’t see how you’re managing . . . not knowing where she is. That would just drive me nuts.”
“ ’Tis hard, I’ll say that.”
“I assume you don’t know where she went?”
Grace shook her head slowly. “I’d give most anything to know.”
They sat silently for a while, staring into the distance. Grace wanted to ask how things were going between Jessica’s parents but didn’t have the slightest idea how to bring it up discreetly.
Just when Grace began to think she might be wearing out her welcome, Jessica said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you again . . . about my fiancé and me.” Her eyes instantly brimmed with tears.
“You all right?” Grace leaned forward. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Jessica sniffled and shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry.” She pressed her lips together. “If I tell you, you’re going to wonder what I could possibly be thinking.”
“Ach, not to worry,” Grace assured her. “Feel free to say what’s on your mind.”
Digging into the pocket of her robe, Jessica pulled out a tissue. “It’s complicated at best.” She wiped her eyes. “I haven’t even told poor Brittany yet.”
Grace sighed. Whatever it was, Jessica needed a good friend.
“Oh, Grace . . . I’ve been thinking of calling off the wedding.”
Seeing her friend’s serious face, Grace’s heart went out to her. She certainly knew how Jessica felt, and in more ways than she could say.
“I don’t mean there’s anything wrong between Quentin—my fiancé—and me. Actually, we’re good.”
Grace listened, her hands folded now.
“It’s my parents causing all the upheaval—they’re talking about a legal separation.” Jessica stopped to blow her nose. “I can hardly think of anything else, you know?”
Nodding, Grace felt as sad as Jessica looked.
“I just wish they’d go to counseling . . . try to save their marriage. Try and do something reasonable.”
Grace’s heart sank to her feet.
“Oh, why do people break each other’s hearts . . . and their children’s, too?” Jessica was sobbing.
Grace felt like crying, too. Such terrible news.
“How can I know my fiancé will be true to me?” Jessica sputtered through her tears. “How can anyone know? You can’t look into the future—ten or twenty years from now—and know what your husband will be like. It’s so unfair.”
Pondering that, Grace said softly, “Well, you can only know what you’ll do. And what you purpose in your own heart to be to him . . . and for him.” She was suddenly distracted by Jessica’s bright toenails, which were the reddest red she’d ever seen. Not only that, but they had little white daisies painted on the big toes. Grace tried not to gawk as Jessica sat there in a ball of anguish, still sobbing as if she’d never stop.
Is anyone content anymore? Grace wondered.
“You probably don’t realize it, but you’d make a great counselor,” Jessica said at last as she wiped her tearstained face.
“Oh, I don’t know . . . ”
“What you just told me makes me want to sit Quentin down and ask him some hard questions.”
Grace shifted in her chair. “Might be better now than later.”
“I only hope my parents can hold things together until after my wedding. It probably sounds selfish, but . . . I never saw this coming. Neither did Brittany.”
They talked awhile longer, Jessica herself changing the subject back to the lemon cookies Grace had baked. “You’re the nicest neighbor ever.” She got up to give her a quick hug. “I hope your mother comes home soon,” she whispered into Grace’s shoulder. “I really do.”
Grace struggled with the lump in her throat as they steppe
d apart. “I’ll be prayin’ for your parents . . . for peace to come.”
Jessica brushed away tears with both hands, gathering herself. “My mascara probably ran all over my face.”
Grace merely offered a sympathetic smile. Then, when Jessica tightened the belt of her bathrobe, she said, “Thanks again . . . for listening.”
’Tis becoming what I do best.
“That’s all right.” Grace headed down the front porch steps.
“Da Herr sei mit du,” she said. Seeing two hummingbirds flutter near Carole Spangler’s glowing yellow forsythia bush, she whispered again, “God be with you and your family.”
Relieved that Dr. Marshall could squeeze in a consultation tomorrow morning, Heather called her dad to let him know where and when. “Or since I’m heading toward Route 340 anyway, I can pick you up at the inn,” she suggested.
“Great. I’ll ride with you.” But presently he seemed more interested in discussing the well Josiah planned to have dug. “Can you believe how fast everything’s coming together?”
“Well, if you think living like a pioneer is fun, I guess . . . um, sure, Dad.”
His laugh was hearty and she hoped he had forgotten the pending battle ahead. Did he really think he could persuade her that chemo was the way to go?
“Have any plans today?” he asked.
“Just a visit to Grace Byler’s herb garden later.”
“Herbs?” He chuckled. “Not that again.”
“Dad . . . you promised.”
He paused as if apologetic. “I was hoping you might have time to look at some catalogs and samples with me.”
“This house-building process isn’t too overwhelming, is it?”
“More fun than work,” he said.
“What is it today—tile choices and carpet colors?”
“Yes, and bathroom fixtures and wall paint.”
She couldn’t say no. “When do you want to go?”
He offered to pick her up shortly. “We can have lunch at another one of those Amish hangouts.”
“They’re restaurants, Dad.”
He laughed again, and Heather cherished the sound.
The goldenrod will soon be in bloom, Lettie thought as she walked along Susan’s backyard. She took in the warmth of the sun, the calming breezes. I’ll miss seeing it along the roadside back home. How easy it was to picture Beechdale Road in summer.
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