Little Wild Flower Book Two

by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  “Are you ready for that walk I promised you?” she asked excitedly.

  “I think I’m as ready to see my old stomping ground as I’ll ever be,” I admitted.

  After covering the bread and removing my apron, we set out for our walk in the cool breeze that the sunny spring day offered. The leaves were just beginning to bud, but already, the landscape was filled with a delightful selection of blooming wildflowers. I set out in the direction of the alley. I was eager to see if Mr. Monnakee might still be living in the same house. When I inquired of him to Mrs. Waverly, she informed me that he had passed about seven years prior. In my disappointment, tears filled my eyes. I mourned the loss of the man whom I’d loved as a grandfather for the ten years that we had lived in the house. Bradley’s grandmother, who lived next to Mr. Monnakee, had passed away one year prior to Mr. Monnakee’s departure, leaving me with the sense of loss over a lifetime of friends.

  When we reached the house that my friend, Penelope had resided in for a short time, I paused to view the property. The doghouse at the back end of her property that I had loved so dearly as a thinking spot was no longer standing. The decayed remains sat in a pile on the ground, leaving me wondering what had been its final day before falling apart. The first time I ever sat on top the doghouse at age four, I knew it would make a good thinking spot. Over the years, it proved to be a faithful spot, allowing me the liberty of many thought-sorting sessions.

  “I used to be friends with the girl that lived here. Her name was Penelope. Her father died just before she moved here, and her mother died a year or so after they moved into the house. I don’t know if I’ll ever forget that day. The look on poor Penelope’s face when I came upon her when she was sitting on this doghouse made me know that something was definitely wrong. Back then, the doghouse was still standing.”

  That dreadful day when I found Penelope, her face was dirt-smudged, and her hair was ratted up. She was wearing the same outfit I’d last seen her in days before, but it was damp and filthy. The frightened girl had remained outside for three days, afraid to go in because of her mother’s dead body and the foul smell that contaminated the house.

  “When we went in the house that day, Penelope wouldn’t go in the room where her mother was lying on the sofa. I had my baby sister, Lucy with me, so Penelope stayed at the back door and held onto her while I bravely walked through the house to find her mamma. The smell that led me to her was unbearable, and I’ll never forget the flies—the sound of the flies buzzing furiously about the house was horrible. According to the authorities, she had lain there dead for close to three days before I discovered her.”

  “It sounds like you and your friend went through quite an ordeal together,” she interjected.

  “The worst part is that the police took Penelope away that day, and I never saw her again. In my state of shock, I didn’t even really get to tell her good-bye.”

  Tears flowed freely from my eyes, relieving me of some of the pain that had remained in my heart over the years. I’d lost contact with two good friends and a grandfatherly friend from my past, and I suddenly felt the loss of them all at once. After leaving this place, I regretted not knowing what had become of Bradley and Penelope. I had thought of them often over the years, and wondered whether they were even still alive. My curiosity as to their welfare had sometimes brought tears to my eyes. I had even prayed for them at times, which had often brought peace to my heart.

  “It’s all right if you cry, dear, you lost a lifetime of memories when you moved from here. It’s only natural that you would mourn for it. But look how much God has blessed you with. The things that you’ve shared with me about your children have brought joy to my heart. You are a lucky woman. Don’t let the enemy defeat you into thinking that all is lost because you don’t have a husband. God has riches in store for you. And I have a surprise for you,” she stated with enthusiasm.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll just have to wait a little while,” she said with a deep grin.

  We walked back to the house and she started up her car for our trip into town. We went by the post office that my Uncle Will had worked at for forty years before he retired. Once we crossed Lover’s Lane, I looked for the A&W Root beer stand that we frequented when I was a child, but it was no longer open for business. Even the drive-in had been torn down years before according to Mrs. Waverly. Not much of the town remained the same as I left it years ago.

  We turned into a shopping complex in front of The Penny Café. I felt out of place as I looked around at the other patrons as we entered the fifties-style café. In my own town, having Amish and Englishers in public places was common. But this area was a different story. I was the only Plain person in the entire store, which caused me to feel slightly awkward. My physical appearance contradicted itself somewhat, from the dark mourning dress that I’d gotten so used to wearing, to the fact that I had neglected to put my hair up in the style that was fitting to be used in accordance with the traditional kapp. In many ways, I had become lazy with my appearance lately. I often left my kapp off, and left my hair down. In the last year of my marriage, Elijah had allowed me to be quite lax with my attire. We stepped up to the counter and a familiar woman turned to serve us.

  “Hello mother. Will you be staying for coffee, or are you just passing through?” she asked in a pleasant tone as she eyed me.

  Mrs. Waverly giggled and turned to me and urged me closer to the counter to introduce me to her daughter.

  “This is my adopted daughter, Penelope,” she said, beaming.

  My mouth hung open and my heart skipped a beat, as I momentarily wondered and hoped that it could be the same girl I once knew.

  “Penelope, this is Jane, but I believe you two already know each other,” Mrs. Waverly giggled.

  “Penelope—Waters?” I was almost afraid to ask.

  “Jane,” she said, squealing.

  For a moment, I thought I might faint.

  She ran around the counter and grabbed me around my neck, then, we both jumped up and down like silly schoolgirls. After hugging for several minutes, I stepped back to get a better look at the girl-turned-woman. We were both grown, but I’d detected a familiarity when I first saw her.

  “How are you, Jane? If you don’t mind me saying, you look kind of awful.” Penelope stated.

  “I’m fine—I mean, not really. But we can get to that later. Tell me how is it that you managed to get yourself adopted by Mrs. Waverly?” I asked excitedly.

  “Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  We sat at a private booth, while her mother stayed seated at the counter. We talked about her mother in the beginning, but I wanted to know how she’d come to be the daughter of my old landlady.

  “There were other tenants in the house after you moved out of there. She adopted me right after you moved. After having spent almost two years in foster homes, Jim and Gloria Waverly finally adopted me. I was almost fifteen at the time, but they took me anyway. I was only three years younger than their youngest daughter, so I fit in pretty well. They didn’t want a younger child, which is unusual, but it worked out great for me. I was lucky that I didn’t have to spend the rest of my childhood in foster homes. If it weren’t for their generosity, I wouldn’t have the life that I have now. My husband and I own this café, and we have four children—two of each. So, what’s your story? What’s with the outfit?” she asked.

  “It’s a very long story, are you sure you wanna hear it?”

  “Of course I do. I don’t think there has been a week that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about you,” Penelope admitted.

  “Same here. When we left here, we moved to an Amish community in Indiana,” I began. “I married a wonderful Amish man, but he died nearly one year ago.”

  I stopped for a minute to suppress my emotions. Even after nearly a year had gone by since his death, I still found it difficult to keep my true feelings under control whenever I talked about Elijah.

&
nbsp; “We had six children together—three of each. My oldest son, Eli attends the public school because he’s planning on going to college when he graduates, but the rest of them seem to be following in Elijah’s footsteps. My older girls, Abigail and Elizabeth are already gut at baking and sewing. They’ll make good wives for Amish men—unless they decide to continue to go to school like their older brother. I have two boys in the middle, Simon and Jakob. Eva is my youngest. I have a farm with animals and land for the kids to roam on. I had a good life with Elijah,” I said, reflecting on the last fifteen years.

  After a few moments of silence, I looked her deep in her eyes and found the same girl I’d once lost touch with. Her hair was still curly and red, and I detected a hint of freckles showing through the makeup that she now wore. She seemed to be the same easy-going girl I’d known so many years ago. I, on the other hand, had changed so much I wondered how she had ever managed to recognize me.

  “I think I’d like to go shopping for a new dress. I normally make my clothing with my mother’s help, but I don’t have that kinda time now. Do you know of a gut dress shop in this area?” I asked as I studied my wardrobe for the first time since I’d chosen the dismal attire.

  Penelope looked at me wide-eyed, and I had to admit that my sudden turn of thought vastly surprised me. I hadn’t intended to rid myself of my mourning clothes this soon, but somehow, the time seemed right for me to move on. A smile spread across Penelope’s face, and I laughed out loud for the first time in almost a year.

  She didn’t have to be asked twice—she threw off her apron and yelled to the young girl behind the counter.

  “Hold down the fort for a while, I’m going shopping with my best friend,” Penelope said.

  Suddenly, we were off to an unknown destination. Mrs. Waverly told us to go without her, but I wondered if it would feel awkward being alone with my old friend.

  We walked along the stretch of shops that lined the road that the coffee shop stood on. Each window was adorned with promising dresses, but none seemed to fit in with my present lifestyle. Penelope encouraged me to go into the last shop on the block, which she claimed contained more conservative looking attire. She was right. Every dress was plain or calico, with very little lace or frill. The length was perfect on nearly all of them—not too long or too short. I picked out a pale yellow dress with a cream colored collar—much like the style of the one that my mamma had sewn for me for my sixteenth birthday. I also chose a calico pattern of pale lavender with yellow pansies.

  I felt a little strange trying on the dresses in a room with mirrors all around me. Although Elijah had allowed a small mirror in the bathroom of our bedroom, I was not used to seeing a full-length view of myself. I nearly didn’t look at myself, but changed my mind and figured one small indulgence wouldn’t hurt anything. When I looked at my image, tears welled up in my eyes as I remembered the day of my sixteenth birthday and the excitement that I had about spending my day with Elijah. I whirled around to see the way the dress flowed, and I suddenly felt like the young girl I’d left behind that day. In spite of the zippers down the backs of both dresses, I felt determined to purchase them regardless of their worldliness. Elijah had never made me adhere to all the rules of his upbringing because he knew they weren’t the same as mine. Still, I hadn’t had anything but buttons or pins in all the time that we’d been in the Amish community; and even the buttons were supposedly forbidden in some sects. I twirled around again and thought to myself that this dress would give me hope of moving on—freeing me somewhat from the pain of losing my husband.

  ****

  Penelope and I walked back to her coffee shop as she explained to me how she and her husband had acquired the little café.

  “Turns out, I did have an aunt, but she didn’t speak up after my mother died because she was ill and didn’t want the burden of taking care of me. A year after Gloria and Jim adopted me; my Aunt Edith passed away and left me the coffee shop. Gloria and Jim helped me to fix it up and I changed the name to The Penny Café. I’ve run it ever since I turned eighteen.”

  “That’s exciting. I’m glad that such a nice woman adopted you. What happened to Jim?” I asked with caution.

  “He died almost eight years ago—in September it’ll be eight full years. I can’t believe it’s been that long,” she said, reflecting on the past.

  “Would you like to meet my family?” Penelope asked.

  “That would be nice.”

  “I’ll tell my mother to bring you for dinner at six tonight,” she said excitedly.

  We entered the coffee shop and Mrs. Waverly begged to see my purchases. She smiled her approval and hugged me in her delight.

  “Can you be at my house for dinner around six o’clock?”

  “We’ll be there,” Mrs. Waverly said.

  I hugged Penelope before leaving the café to return to my childhood home.

  “Why don’t we bring some of your wonderful bread with us this evening,” Mrs. Waverly suggested as we hurried back.

  I smiled and nodded my head in agreement.

  When we reached Mrs. Waverly’s house, I set my things on the front porch and excused myself to take a walk.

  I wandered aimlessly down the alley until I came to a patch of tiger-lilies that had once served as a peace offering to my mother whenever I picked them and brought them to her. I admired the full, orange blooms, while I pictured myself as a young girl with a large bouquet of the same flowers that Bradley had picked for me. The summer before I turned fifteen, before we moved to Indiana, Bradley and I had a fake wedding ceremony that served as a pact between us to never marry anyone except one another. A neighborhood boy had performed the “ceremony” on our behalf. The boy and his sister pulled the two of us to the park in a wagon that served as a makeshift carriage, where we had a “honeymoon picnic” under the big oak tree. That day, we’d promised to find each other when we grew up so we could really marry one another. I giggled at my childish promise, although, I momentarily wondered how differently my life might have become if I had indeed married Bradley.

  Stop dwelling on the past. We were only fourteen at the time. What did we know?

  Bradley had grown up in Texas, far away from Michigan and Indiana where I’d lived all my life. The only time I saw him had been during the summers when he would stay with his grandmother, who lived at the end of the alley behind my childhood home. Marrying him was an impossibility that I knew, even at the time that we had vowed to marry one another. When my family moved to Indiana, I left that part of my life completely behind me, but I always thought of Bradley. Even now, I wondered what had become of him, and if he’d ever recovered from his childhood bout with polio. The last time I’d seen him, he was wearing leg braces and had metal crutches in tow. At the time, I loved him regardless of his handicap.

  I pushed the painful wondering aside and continued to walk down the alley. When I came upon Penelope’s childhood home, I stood for a moment, allowing my mind to flood over from all the memories of the events that took place on the property. I knelt down and reached for a piece of the decayed wood from the doghouse that sat on the ground at the far edge of the property. I slipped the piece of the doghouse into the pocket of my dress, determined to take it home as a keepsake.

  I remained sitting on the ground and began to sob as I thought of the day that Penelope and I discovered that her mother lay dead on the sofa inside the house that now remained abandoned. It was one of the worst days of my childhood, but I turned my thoughts toward the fact that Penelope’s life turned out to be full of hidden blessings.

  “Thank you Lord that Mrs. Waverly adopted Penelope. And thank you that I got to see her again. If you see fit to letting me see Bradley again, I’d be grateful. I’d like to know what became of him,” I declared aloud.

  Of the two people from my childhood that I loved the most, I only knew of Penelope’s whereabouts. I turned to study the decayed remains of the doghouse, and envisioned the first time that Bradley had kissed me
as we sat atop the intact structure on a hot summer day when I was nearly eleven years old. At the time I didn’t yet understand the full impact of kissing enjoyment, but Bradley had introduced me to a wonderfully exciting experience. Bradley was already eleven at the time, and appeared to be much more mature on the subject than I was.

  I remembered that the first time his lips touched mine; I giggled and turned my red face from his sight. After several days of practice, though, I began to look forward to it.