Jodi listened, glancing back at young Tobias, who was still watching his mother, obviously waiting for her to respond.
But Maryanna was strangely quiet.
“He does, Mamma,” Tobias repeated.
“Why, sure, I ’spect so,” Maryanna said, giving her younger son a reprimanding stare.
“He’s a right gut housekeeper, too,” Tobias added, slipping it in as though he’d almost better not.
“’Cept for all those filthy pets.” Maryanna shook her head. “If God wanted animals to live inside, they wouldn’t have fur coats, now, would they?”
Benny poked Tobias, who still wore a grin.
“Joshua’s only got one cat and one small bunny . . . and one parrot. No other pets inside the house,” Tobias replied while Benny fidgeted. “I wouldn’t mind a pet or two myself.”
“He has an indoor cat now, too?” Maryanna sighed loudly and waved her hand in exasperation.
Jodi’s antenna shot up. It was evident Toby had tremendous affection for Joshua, and Maryanna did not.
“Doesn’t he know cats are meant to be mouse catchers?” Maryanna continued.
“I don’t know.” Toby shook his head fast, his hair flying.
“Maybe he cooks for his pets,” Bertie said, leaning forward on the table to peer down at Toby. “Animals need to eat, too, ya know.”
“But what do indoor rabbits eat?” Benny asked rambunctiously. “Same as outdoor ones, ain’t?”
Toby frowned. “Why are ya pickin’ on our nice neighbor?” He appeared ready to say more when his mother nipped it in the bud and asked him to leave the table.
Toby hung his head. “Sorry, Mamm.”
Maryanna apologized to everyone for her son’s outburst. “Don’t know what’s got into him.”
Mollie and Emmie looked at each other, then resumed eating.
What’s going on? Jodi wondered as the table fell silent, except for the clink of utensils on plates and the occasional burp from Benny. Why is Maryanna so rattled?
Joshua was a bit surprised to see Preacher Ephraim Yoder cutting through his field, coming this way again, carrying what looked like a loaf of bread.
“Bishop John just told me the wonderful-gut news of Maryanna’s daughter’s safe return,” Ephraim said, handing him the bread. “My wife sent me back over here . . . guessin’ she’s worried ’bout you.”
“No need, but mighty kind of her. Denki.” Joshua motioned for the minister to follow him to the house, where he deposited the loaf on the counter and offered Ephraim some ice water. “Heard your daughter Rosaleen’s all done teaching.”
Preacher nodded and bowed his head a bit. “Not sure I oughta say anything.”
“Go right ahead.” Joshua was a firm believer in giving folk plenty of leeway. Some folk might call it rope.
Preacher glanced at him and let out a guffaw. “That’s what I like ’bout you, Josh.”
“Joshua,” he said quietly, wishing the reminder would stick. Counting Maryanna, Preacher Yoder was the second person today who’d slipped up and called him by his childhood nickname.
Preacher tugged on his beard, then continued. “Well, I rode over and gave my daughter’s beau an earful last week.”
“Oh?”
“Decided it was time he made up his mind to marry Rosaleen. The boy’s been seein’ her for two long years now. So I upped and told him right to his face: ‘Are ya gonna dilly-dally through life or make something of yourself?’ ”
Joshua’s ears pricked. “How’d he take it?”
“Must’ve needed the nudge, ’cause he proposed to her the very next day.”
“Ah, so you’re the reason the school board’s frettin’ over who to choose for a teacher this fall?”
“You heard this?” Preacher removed his straw hat and fanned himself.
“Sure. The grapevine’s got your daughter hitched come November wedding season.”
“At long last.”
“Word’s out that there aren’t any scholarly girls suitable to take Rosaleen’s place teachin’.”
“Is that right?”
“The only graduate in last year’s crop was a poor pupil, is what I heard. Not qualified to take on the task.”
There was a long and awkward silence, and the longer he waited, the more Joshua wondered what the preacher was thinking.
“You’re a rather young man yourself, Joshua,” the preacher began slowly. “Why don’t ya think of settling down with one of the younger widows in the district? Remarry?”
Joshua shook his head.
“Widow Ida’s real nice—God-fearing, too. What are you waitin’ for?”
He sighed, mulling that over. At last, he said, “If the woman you’ve got your eye on won’t have you, what should ya do?”
“I’d say to set your sights on another.”
Joshua pondered that. “But what if you don’t care for anyone else?”
Preacher inhaled deeply, his chest rising. He stared at the cat all curled up in the sunshine near the window, and the parrot in its cage right above. “Is it all these pets of yours? Are they the problem?”
“Could be she doesn’t know ’bout the cat.”
“Well, if I know ’bout it, I ’spect she does, too.” Preacher frowned, looking at him askance. He pointed to the parrot. “What about this big bird of yours? Any reason why a loud creature like that needs to live all cooped up inside a cage?”
“Malachi? The poor thing would die out in the wild.”
“That’s because you feed it,” Preacher Yoder insisted.
Joshua didn’t pay the minister any mind—what did the man know of exotic birds?
Preacher eyed him and leaned forward. “Who’s the woman, if I might ask?”
Joshua shook his head. There was no revealing that. “She thinks I’m peculiar, so we’ll just leave it right there.”
“Well, if this woman loves ya, she’ll overlook it.”
“Then it’s ummieglich—impossible.”
“So I guess that’s that,” Preacher said, looking at him sympathetically. “You’ve come to a sudden schtoppe.”
“Jah, and sadly so,” Joshua admitted. All too true.
Chapter 17
Despite Jodi’s largely warm welcome, there were several moments when she’d caught Maryanna looking at her charily. She was startled when Sarah crawled on my lap, Jodi realized. She must be feeling protective.
Maryanna declared the peach cobbler a special dessert to celebrate Sarah’s return home. Presently, they took turns scooping vanilla ice cream to top off the dessert. Jodi took a bite and resisted the urge to inquire about the recipe for the scrumptious cobbler. With the heat in the house quite overpowering, she wondered how long it would be before the ice cream turned to soup on her plate.
Halfway through the meal, Benny had brought in a large battery-operated fan and set it in the middle of the kitchen. Jodi was grateful—she’d felt like she might melt, yet she refused to mention the heat the children seemed to take in stride. Without air-conditioning, their blood is thinner, she decided.
Maryanna called for Tobias, who returned looking humble and properly chastened as he sat next to Benny on the long wooden bench.
“You should see how much ice cream Great-Aunt Heddy eats,” Benny said, picking up his fork and digging into the dessert.
“She had four big dips last night,” Tobias added, eyes shining.
“Ach, boys . . .” Maryanna said, and immediately Benny and Tobias looked repentant. “Be respectful of your elders.”
“Sorry, Mamm,” Benny apologized first, followed by Tobias, who spoke more softly.
“Did ya know Great-Aunt Heddy’s helping some of the Amish schoolgirls in the Nickel Mines area make a comfort quilt?” Mollie said between bites. “To show compassion for the families who were victims of the theater shootings in Colorado.”
“Sounds like something dear Heddy would do,” Emmie Mast said.
“Ever thoughtful, jah?” Maryanna spoke up.
Both Mollie and Jodi nodded in agreement.
“They want to send it to one of the Aurora public libraries,” Mollie added. “As a gesture of caring.” She smiled sweetly. “The children want the families to know they understand what they’re going through.”
Maryanna rested her elbows on the table, eyes moist. “Being Amish doesn’t separate us from the pain and suffering others feel.”
“I’ve never heard of a comfort quilt before,” Jodi said.
Maryanna nodded. “For the longest time, there was another such quilt on display at Bart Township Fire Station 51. They were the first responders to the Amish schoolhouse shootings,” she explained. “It was made by Catholic schoolchildren in Ohio for students at the St. James Catholic Grammar School in New Jersey.” She sighed, visibly moved. “Many of the children in New Jersey lost family members in the 9/11 terrorist attacks at the World Trade Center.”
Jodi was captivated by the idea of the quilt being passed on from one hurting group to another.
“Then, after the shootings at the college in Virginia, forty Amish folk took a bus to deliver the quilt with a letter to the campus that summer, hoping it would bring comfort to the families whose loved ones lost their lives.”
“Did it go anywhere after that?” Bertie asked, eyes wide.
“Well, yes, unfortunately—to yet another university, sadly enough—this time in northern Illinois,” Maryanna said.
Fannie looked away, face pale, and Bertie reached over and touched her shoulder. “I don’t know why some folk can’t just be kind,” she said softly. “Live the Golden Rule . . .”
“Fighting’s just terrible,” Zeke said, looking round the table.
“Surely is,” Emmie agreed.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the children in Nickel Mines got the idea to make this new comfort quilt from that first one,” Mollie remarked.
“Maybe so.” Maryanna offered more meadow tea to the children, who sat patiently while adult talk took precedence.
Jodi was curious about the interplay between Maryanna and Mollie, as well as the humble and respectful attitudes displayed by the children, Tobias’s minor fit notwithstanding. A far cry from the behavioral problems I’ve dealt with at school.
Maryanna asked if anyone wanted more ice in their tumblers.
“Ach, why not just sit and rest awhile, sister?” Mollie urged her.
“Oh, I can rest tonight,” Maryanna answered with a glance at Jodi. “I’ll go now and check on Sarah.” And with that, she rose and slipped from the kitchen.
Jodi found herself holding her breath, hoping Sarah might be awake. She hated the thought of leaving without saying good-bye to the little Amish girl and her very special family.
When Preacher Yoder left by way of the back steps, Joshua noticed the same car still parked over in Maryanna Esh’s driveway. Must be the woman who found Sarah. This gave him pause. Although the community would be exceedingly grateful to her, the last thing young Sarah or anyone else needed was to fix their eyes on the fancy folk.
Hurrying out to check on his two young colts, Joshua made his way to the barnyard. The sun was blistering hot on his neck, and he wished for a breeze . . . and a ceiling fan in his house like he knew neighbor Samuel Lapp had installed in Rebecca’s kitchen. Joshua could not recall a hotter summer, or one with less rain. Just yesterday he’d read in The Budget that a number of states were in severe drought, and as he checked on the water level in the trough, he prayed, Lord God, grant mercy on those who need your blessed rain most.
Pausing, he looked over yonder at Maryanna Esh’s expanse of land. And thank you for bringing young Sarah back safely to her family, he continued. Look after her and lead her, all the days of her life.
———
As Joshua returned to the house for a cold drink, Malachi began to caw, which turned into noisy squawking. “Josh-wa, Josh-wa,” the bird parroted his name, then cackled, making fun.
“Puh, go on with ya, old bird.” Joshua sat at the table, drinking, feeling the cold liquid slide down inside his chest.
“Hul-lo, Josh-wa,” the bird said, staring right at him, daring him to reprimand.
There were times Joshua wished he hadn’t spent hours teaching his pet to talk. He looked at the rabbit in its cage and joked back at Malachi. “See that quiet little rabbit? Take some lessons from Shadow, won’t ya?” He laughed, wondering if Suzanne would think he’d lost his mind, talking to his pets.
But life without Suzanne was nearly unbearable most days. Especially the long nights. He’d heard of folks dying of loneliness, so it made perfect sense to populate the kitchen with a cat, parrot, and black rabbit. The ornery tabby cat, however, had tried its best to get past the barrier between the kitchen and the small sitting room. Joshua had seen the determined look in the tabby’s eyes on more than one occasion. He could just hear the wheels turning. What Honey Lou wouldn’t do to get upstairs and lie there in a puddle of sunlight all day, near Joshua’s bedroom window.
Such is a cat’s life!
Joshua had to squint to look across the field, but he could see the Englischer’s car well enough. None of his business, really, but having been Benuel’s closest friend, Joshua felt a strong sense of protectiveness toward the Esh family, and toward Maryanna herself. Although undeniably Maryanna would prefer that wasn’t the case.
Am I envious? For the life of him, he wished he might’ve been the one to bring Sarah home. And come to think of it, he wished he was finishing up the noon meal with the Esh family just now.
Joshua sighed, pushing away the meddlesome thoughts. “Don’t be a coward,” he said to himself.
“Coward!” the parrot mimicked. “Caw!”
Joshua’s ire rose. “Quiet now!” he commanded, and Malachi retreated in obedience.
Feeling remorseful, Joshua rose and fed his bird a treat. “Sorry, little one. Just a bit tired, I guess.”
Gently, the bird nuzzled Joshua’s fingers, as though forgiving him.
Little Sarah was just waking up and stretching her arms when Maryanna came into the doorway. Going to the bed, she sat next to her daughter and smoothed Sarah’s hair away from her face. “You’ve been sleeping ever so soundly,” she said in Deitsch. “’Tis gut. But I missed you, my dear.”
Sarah sat up and moved next to Maryanna, cuddling with her. For the longest time, Sarah lay very still in her lap as Maryanna hummed a hymn.
Then, after a while, Maryanna dressed her and fixed her hair. Sarah looked up at one point, asking if the Englischer was still there.
“Just finishing up her dessert.”
A slow smile spread across Sarah’s sweet face. “I want some, too . . . with Jodi.”
Maryanna smiled and was about to lean down to kiss her cheek, but Sarah slid out of bed and scampered out of the bedroom. And before Maryanna could say more, Sarah’s bare feet pattered down the stairs.
When Maryanna returned to the kitchen, there sat Sarah on Jodi’s lap again, leaning her head back against her, content as a kitten. If she wasn’t mistaken, their guest looked a mite sheepish.
“Well, it seems Sarah has grown quite attached to you!” Maryanna said, trying to laugh it off.
Jodi’s face flushed.
“Let’s get Sarah some cobbler with ice cream,” Maryanna told Leda, who rose quickly and took down another plate from the cupboard. “Anyone for seconds?”
Benny and then Bertie shot up their hands, and Tobias waved his mischievously in the air.
“Mamma’s cobbler’s a lot like her chocolate chip cookies. You can’t eat just one helpin’,” Benny said.
Soon enough, Leda carried over a plate with the cobbler and ice cream and put it in front of the English woman and Sarah. “Looks like she needs a spoon, too,” Maryanna told Leda, motioning for her to go back and get one.
“She don’t look helpless to me,” Tobias muttered.
“Doesn’t,” Benny corrected.
Tobias grimaced. “I hate grammar.”
&
nbsp; “Shouldn’t say hate,” Benny spouted back.
Maryanna shook her head, mortified.
“Still, little Sarah’s home . . . and we’re all mighty happy ’bout it,” Mollie intervened.
Maryanna smiled her thanks at Mollie, and Tobias dug into his cobbler, slurping at times, imitating his brother. Then, turning to Jodi, she said, “I’d like to talk with you alone, before you leave, if ya don’t mind.”
Still holding Sarah, Jodi looked surprised but agreed. But it was Mollie whose eyebrows arched.
“Can you come for breakfast sometime?” Tobias asked Jodi. “Mamma makes the best eggs and bacon. You’ll see.”
Jodi, looking ever more self-conscious, explained that she liked to run early each morning. “That’s how I found your sister today . . . I was out jogging.”
Tobias’s eyes grew wide. “You’re a runner?”
“It’s just a hobby.”
“I whittle sometimes,” Tobias said. “That’s my hobby.”
Benny nodded. “Mine too.”
Maryanna was taken aback—she’d never known her children to be so comfortable with an Englischer. First Sarah for understandable reasons, and now Benny and Tobias.
“I’d like to see some of your whittling,” Jodi said, her pretty face beaming back at the boys.
As if lightning had struck, Tobias and Benny left the table and hurried off to their room upstairs.
“Why do ya run, Jodi?” Bertie asked, putting down her fork and wiping her mouth with the back of her chubby hand.
“Well, it’s a great way to handle stress, or to mull things over. And I get some good exercise, too.”
Mollie leaned back in her chair. “Did ya know there’s a half marathon coming up in a few weeks not far from here—in early September, I believe.”
“Really?” Jodi’s eyes lit up. “Where?”
“It’s the Bird-in-Hand Half Marathon, between the villages of Bird-in-Hand and Intercourse. And a whole bunch of Amish young folk go running together every few evenings, once the sun goes down—’cept Sundays,” Mollie told her. “They call themselves the Vella Shpringa—Let’s Run. Would ya like to join them?”
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