“Look out the window,” she said. “They’re having a good time. We can go upstairs to talk, or we can slip into the health food store to be alone.”
If Ada had a choice, she’d prefer neither. “The store,” she replied through stiff lips. At least there nobody could eavesdrop on their conversation.
Leah led her down the narrow hallway connecting the house to the shop. She opened the door, ushered Ada inside, and pulled two stools together. After motioning for Ada to sit on one, she settled onto the other.
“So what is going on? You two looked like”—Leah paused, as if picking her words carefully—“you’ve been courting.”
“Those photographs made something from nothing.” No matter how compromising they appeared.
“You’re sure?”
“He’s still in mourning, and I, well, I can’t court anyone. Not with having my siblings to take care of, and not after what happened with Daed…”
Leah nibbled at her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”
Neither had Ada. Not while she stared into Josiah’s eyes.
* * *
Though it ripped him apart inside, over the next two months, Josiah did his best to avoid Ada. He stayed in the buggy while Nathan climbed out and went into the school with David. And when he picked Nathan up he kept his distance.
He wished he could keep learning sign language with Ada, but he needed to protect her reputation. Instead he drove to the center and asked if someone could teach him and Nathan. Together they planned additional words to add to Nathan’s vocabulary so Josiah could communicate better. Nathan waited in the multi-sensory environment while Josiah had lessons, and his son emerged from the room calm and cooperative as long as Josiah kept his distance and allowed Nathan to go in to the teacher alone and get in the buggy by himself.
At church Josiah went out of his way not to get near Ada or even glance in her direction, but he paid a price for respectability. No more spending time with her. No more visits to her house. No more gazing into her eyes. But it also meant no more temptation and no more idle gossip.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
On Thanksgiving morning, Ada crunched across the light coating of frost shimmering on the grass. Nearby fields sparkled as the icy surfaces of chopped-down cornstalks reflected morning sunlight. Pulling her cloak tighter to ward off the chilly air, she slipped inside their neighbor’s phone shanty. She’d hoped to have a holiday surprise for her siblings, but a few minutes later she returned to the house, the words not yet echoing in her ears.
When Ada opened the back door, the smell of roasting turkey filled the air. The warm, homey aroma brought up a wave of sadness.
Sadie glanced up when Ada entered the kitchen. She must have guessed Ada’s destination because her sister’s eyes asked a silent question Ada didn’t want to answer. She shook her head, and Sadie, her mouth pinched into a firm line, returned to chopping onions.
“I’m sorry, Sadie.” Ada scraped the slush from her shoes before removing them and placing them on the wooden shelves Daed had built by the back door.
“It’s not your fault.” Sadie’s words were clipped and bitter.
Ada worried she’d made a mistake in planning a big Englisch-style Thanksgiving this year. For the first holiday without Mamm and Daed, she’d hoped it would cheer her brothers and sisters, but instead she’d emphasized their loneliness and loss.
And the plans she’d hoped to announce for the afternoon had been scuttled. With a heavy heart, she basted the turkey.
Mary Elizabeth sniffled as she crumbled bread. Heads down, the twins chopped celery. Hannah stared off into the distance as she diced the potatoes to include in the filling.
Last year Mamm had been too ill to join them, but Daed had one of his good days and sat at the head of the table like old times. Although they didn’t know it then, that would be the last holiday they’d all spend together.
Although they were all feeling the loss, Ada struggled to shake off her gloomy thoughts and concentrate on cooking. By the time they sat at the table for the meal, Ada was exhausted both physically and emotionally. Her parents’ bedroom door remained closed, and her siblings glanced at it from time to time with tears in their eyes. Ada tried to make the meal as festive as she could, but heavy hearts made it difficult. And every time she glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table, her sorrow increased. Daed would never again take that place.
The last person to sit there had been Josiah. And that brought a different kind of pain and loss. If only…
Ada shook herself. Everything that happened was God’s will, so she needed to accept it. Though she struggled with sorrow, she should be an example to her siblings. One of the best ways to overcome gloom was to help someone else. “I have an idea. You know how we used to take pies to Linda Beiler’s restaurant in the afternoon? Why don’t we do that today?”
No one wanted to leave Mamm last year, but every year before that, they’d participated in the Beilers’ special event. On Thanksgiving the Beilers opened their restaurant to serve free dinners to the lonely, needy, and homeless. All of the Beilers’ relatives and friends picked up members from the surrounding g’mays who had no family nearby and brought them to the restaurant.
Many members of the Amish church districts in the surrounding areas came to share pies and chat with the visitors. Mamm had always insisted they bake extra pies, and she’d send all of them, even during the years she’d been too ill to get out of bed. Last year had been the first time they’d missed.
Sadie blinked back tears. “Mamm would want us to go.”
The others nodded, and Ada’s spirits brightened a little. Despite their loss, they had much to be thankful for. “Let’s go around and list our blessings,” she suggested.
One by one, they shared their joys from the past year. When David signed his gratitude for his friendship with Nathan, Sadie jumped in and mentioned the fun they’d had with Josiah.
“Why doesn’t he come over anymore?” Mary Elizabeth demanded. “We miss him.”
So do I, Mary Elizabeth. So do I.
* * *
Josiah had risen early on Thanksgiving morning. Mamm left before dawn to help at the restaurant, but she’d left a long list of people Josiah needed to pick up and bring to the restaurant. First, though, he needed to drop Nathan at the restaurant to play with his cousins.
Today should be a day for counting his blessings, but for the past four years, he’d been without his wife. For three years she’d been in Mexico with Nathan, so he’d been all alone. Those last few months in Ohio she’d been too ill to lift her head from the pillow. This year she was gone. Nathan should have a mamm. Why, God, why?
He’d lost so much this past year, including his own son. Nathan still shied away from him—though he was gradually getting better. And the past two months of staying away from Ada had added to those losses. Not seeing her smile except in the newspaper photographs had cast a pall over his days.
His mourning period would end soon, and he could finally consider courting. As much as he’d like to ask Ada now, Josiah hesitated because people in the community would judge them for getting into a relationship too quickly. If he waited a few months, he’d protect her reputation and prevent gossip.
Although Josiah never again wanted to go through the pain of losing someone he loved, he saw something in Ada that made him believe they might have a future. And for that he was thankful.
He hurried to Nathan’s room. He’d dawdled so much, he’d need to rush to get all his pickups done. His son lay sleeping peacefully, the stuffed terrycloth rabbit clutched to his chest. So innocent, so precious.
Today is a day to be grateful.
Josiah shook Nathan and stepped back from the bed before his son’s eyes opened. Despite his distance, Nathan shrank back. Each time that happened a part of Josiah died. He pasted a loving smile on his face to cover his hurt and pointed to the clothing.
Nathan brightened. School?
&n
bsp; Josiah hesitated to say no. Instead he used the new signs Katie at the center had shown them. Thanksgiving. Cousins. Pie. Faithe.
The last word made Nathan smile. He’d started clinging to his cousin Faithe since they hadn’t been spending time with Ada. He needed a mother figure in his life, and eighteen-year-old Faithe enjoyed playing that role.
After Josiah took Nathan to Linda’s, he drove down country lanes and assisted elderly people into his buggy. When the seats were filled, he headed back to the restaurant and started another round. The driving and conversations kept his mind occupied.
After his final round, he entered the kitchen to help, and Linda handed him heavy trays to carry out to the buffet. When the table was full, a local Mennonite minister offered a blessing, followed by silent prayer for the Amish. Then the hordes descended on the food. Josiah and his relatives carried plates to those who had difficulty walking. Soon everyone was seated at tables. Street people in their ragged clothes, some clutching trash bags of possessions on their laps, chatted with elderly Amish ladies in starched and pressed dresses.
Josiah leaned against a wall, his heart full.
Faithe passed him, carrying a water pitcher. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.” He waved toward a table where an Amish widower leaned over to help a small girl cut her turkey slice. Opposite him a mother with four children communicated with Nathan using gestures and pointing. Once again his son had gravitated to a mother figure. “This was a wonderful idea you had, Faithe.”
His niece smiled. “I’m glad we’re able to help the community like this every year, but it wasn’t my idea, it was God’s.”
Josiah’s of course rang hollow in his own ears, but Faithe had moved on.
After they cleared the plates, the Mennonite minister led some hymns. Several Amish men followed with some songs from the Ausbund. During the singing, the door opened, bringing in a chilly gust of air, and Josiah looked up. Right into Ada’s eyes.
* * *
Ada stopped so suddenly Sadie plowed into her, almost knocking her off her feet. She struggled to regain her balance and keep the pie carrier from overturning. She hadn’t expected to see Josiah. He’d never been here before. But, of course, he was Linda’s brother. So it made sense.
Josiah came to her aid. He reached out a hand to steady her. She trembled at his touch, and the pie carrier threatened to overturn. To her disappointment, he let go of her arm to grab the pie carrier and then glanced down at her.
Dazed, Ada stared into his eyes until Mary Elizabeth whined, “It’s cold out here.”
Ada broke the connection, and Josiah stepped back. Her siblings rushed through the door and crowded around him, peppering him with questions.
“Where have you been?” “When are you coming to visit?” “Where’s Nathan?” “Will you come to read us a Bible story?”
Josiah laughed and held up a hand. “One question at a time, please.”
David went first and asked where Nathan was. Josiah surprised them by answering in sign language. David’s face lit up, and he rushed over to join his friend.
“You learned more sign language?” Ada asked.
A group of people tried to enter the restaurant but couldn’t get past their small crowd.
“Maybe we should move out of the way so we’re not blocking the door.” Josiah pointed to a quiet corner in the crowded restaurant.
They retreated to the area he suggested, and the questioning continued. Ada was as eager to hear his answers as her siblings were. She waited until they’d completed their interrogation and had scattered to sit with friends. Then she asked again about his sign language.
Josiah stared at the floor. “I’m, um, taking lessons at the center.”
“I see.” She hadn’t meant to let her hurt filter into her words, but the thought of him learning from someone else… “From Katie, I suppose.” This time her tone sounded snippy.
He lifted a startled gaze to her face, and blood rushed to Ada’s cheeks. As if the newspaper photo hadn’t made her crush on him clear, she’d just betrayed her feelings again.
“Jah, Katie’s been teaching me signs to use with Nathan. I could even tell him what we were doing today, which staved off a temper tantrum.”
Was it her imagination, or were Josiah’s face and words brimming with enthusiasm? And was his excitement about working with Katie or communicating with Nathan? The crack that had opened in her heart at the thought of Katie and Josiah together widened to a fissure.
Faithe came up behind Josiah and nudged him with her elbow. “We could use some help with dessert, onkel.”
“Sorry,” Josiah said.
“You should be,” she teased. “I’ve been doing all your work while you’ve been hiding out in this back corner.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Why don’t you wait until everyone’s gone to spend time together?”
“We weren’t…” Josiah shuttered the warmth in his eyes.
With an apologetic look, Faithe said softly, “I was only teasing.”
With a sickish look on his face, Josiah mumbled a quick good-bye to Ada and headed for the restaurant kitchen.
Ada stood, alone, staring after him. Pretty, vivacious Katie was teaching Josiah. Ada’s foolhardiness had cost her that opportunity. If she’d stayed outside the schoolhouse that September day, she and Josiah could have remained friends. She would be the one teaching him sign language and spending time around him. Instead he’d been going out of his way to ignore her.
After Josiah disappeared into the kitchen, it dawned on Ada that secluding themselves in this dark corner probably undid Josiah’s efforts to be circumspect. She’d managed to cast doubt on his reputation again.
She headed toward Mary Elizabeth, who was chatting with an elderly man leaning on a walker, but Leah waylaid her.
“You said nothing is going on between you,” Leah whispered, “but you don’t make it easy to believe.”
If Leah had come to that conclusion, so had many other people. Ada shook her head and repeated the same excuse as she had before.
“Exactly,” a sharp voice said behind her.
Ada whirled to face the bishop’s wife.
The deep lines incised on Betty’s forehead compressed into a formidable frown. “You’re taking advantage of the fact that men in mourning are lonely and vulnerable.”
Ada sucked in a breath. She had no such intentions. Contradicting Betty would be hochmut, so Ada stared at the floor.
Couldn’t Betty see how Josiah usually went out of his way to avoid her? Besides, no matter how much she pined after Josiah, she could never marry. Not him or anyone. With the way the community had condemned her over the situation with Daed, what man would want to court her? And she couldn’t ask anyone to take on the responsibility of raising her seven siblings.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
On Saturday afternoon when all the chores were done, Ada invited her siblings to accompany her to Stoltzfus Natural Products Store. “It’s chilly out, so you’ll need to bundle up.”
Everyone but Sadie rushed to put on coats, scarves, and gloves. “I’ll stay here,” she said in a superior voice. “I’m sure the little ones will enjoy the goats.” Her emphasis made it clear she didn’t include herself among the younger children.
The snide comment gave Ada some insight into her sister’s recent attitude problem. Sadie wanted to be considered grown-up, yet she resented the responsibilities that went with it. Or maybe she felt she already bore many of those responsibilities without being recognized as grown-up. Ada did tend to group all the younger children together. Perhaps if she included Sadie in more of a leadership role, her sister’s resentment would lessen. Ada mulled that over as they drove to the store.
As the children piled out and headed toward the goats, Ada entered Stoltzfus Natural Products.
Leah looked up with a wan smile. “Oh, Ada, it’s good to see you.” Her cheerless tone didn’t match her words.
“What’s t
he matter?” Ada asked.
Her friend’s morose face alarmed her. Leah exhaled a long, extended breath that seemed to rise from deep within her soul. “November is always a hard month for me.”
Ada suspected she and Leah had the same inner pain: wedding season was difficult. A few of their friends married in other months, but most kept to the traditional November Tuesdays and Thursdays for their weddings. Going to weddings several times a week had only reinforced their singleness.
Picking up a box of small bottles, Leah motioned for Ada to follow her down a nearby aisle, where she sat on a low stool to straighten messy shelves and line up the new bottles. “The rest of the year, I can stay busy and push the sadness aside, but November is a constant reminder I’m destined to be an old maid.”
“You don’t know that,” Ada said. “God may already have the perfect husband picked out for you. You have to wait for his timing.” She automatically copied Leah’s motions, moving items into neat lines on the shelf near her.
“If it’s God’s plan for us to marry, then why doesn’t He send us husbands? I pray every day, but I’m still waiting for an answer.”
Ada sympathized, but she’d given up her dream of marriage. “It’s painful to watch all those happy couples, knowing I’ll never have a chance to court.”
Leah’s sly sideways glance indicated she didn’t believe Ada’s protests. “You and Josiah—”
Ada cut her off with a wave of her hand. “People are mistaken about us. Those newspaper photos made it look different than it really is.”
“I’m not referring to those pictures. On Thanksgiving it was pretty obvious.”
On my part, maybe.
The bells on the door jangled, and Leah hurried to the front of the store. When she greeted the customer, her perky voice had returned. “Hello, Josiah.”
* * *
Josiah worked to keep his smile and attention trained on Leah, but from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Ada.
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