“Actually, that’s not necessarily true. Kumme, let me show you.”
She reluctantly put her supper down and went into the parlor with him.
“Ah,” he said when he opened the door to the woodstove. “Look at this.”
Trina crouched down beside him. She watched his hands gesturing as he spoke, oddly aware those were the same strong hands that had lifted her the day before.
“You’ve done alright with the kindling, but you’ve piled the logs too tightly together,” he explained, not unkindly. “There needs to be a little room between them for the oxygen to get through. Otherwise, the logs won’t take and the flame will burn out like it has now. It’s better if you stack them like this.”
As she listened to him, it occurred to Trina he would make a good teacher. She glanced sideways at his face, noticing the reddish undertone to his short beard. She wondered if it would feel like his wool coat had felt against her cheek. Suddenly her skin burned and she knew she couldn’t attribute its warmth to the fire now crackling in the stove.
“Denki,” she said, standing up.
Seth rose, too, saying, “I want to apologize if I embarrassed you when I asked you to tell me the song you taught the buwe.”
If Trina’s face hadn’t felt hot before, it would have now under Seth’s earnest gaze. “It’s alright,” she conceded, and suddenly, it was.
She realized if a virtual stranger—especially one who had traditions that were different from her own—came to watch her children, she’d give them guidelines about what the kids could and couldn’t do. In fact, when she used to babysit as a teenager, parents always told her what the house rules were. It wasn’t personal, she’d just taken it that way because of Seth’s comments about her being Englisch. But maybe she was the one who was being defensive because he was Amish, instead of vice versa. Or maybe it was a little of both.
“I respect the way you’re raising your kinner and I want to instruct the buwe according to your guidelines,” she said. “Do you have a few minutes to talk about that now?”
“Jah.” Seth grinned, and his jawline visibly softened as he sank into the sofa.
First, Trina hoped she put Seth’s mind at ease by telling him she shared his strong Christian faith. Then they briefly discussed his expectations of the boys as well as their interests and the activities they were forbidden to do. Nothing Seth mentioned seemed unduly prohibitive or out of the ordinary to Trina, but she was glad they’d had the discussion anyway.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then?” Seth confirmed as he was leaving.
Did Trina catch a note of uncertainty in his voice? “Jah, I’ll be there bright and early at seven forty-five,” she assured him.
“Then I’ll be sure to set the rooster for six forty-five,” he said over his shoulder before closing the door, and Trina laughed in spite of herself.
Her supper had cooled but she didn’t care. The casserole was so delicious she couldn’t believe she’d made it herself—well, with advice from Martha. Trina never had much interest in cooking, aside from a few traditional Amish desserts her mother taught her to make. Usually by the time she returned home from work she was so hungry and worn out she would just to throw a meal into the microwave.
She was pleased to see the basket contained eggs, milk and half a loaf of bread. Martha was as thoughtful and generous as Trina’s mother had said she was. Her tummy full, Trina washed the dishes and before she got ready for bed, she retrieved her cell phone and set its alarm. She didn’t want to be late again, especially now that she and Seth were on better terms with each other.
* * *
Once he’d cleared the air with Trina, Seth felt more comfortable having her mind the boys, who relished their time with her. Each evening when he came to the door, they regaled him with anecdotes about the adventures they’d had with her during the day. And although his grandmother had always been lively, she seemed even sprightlier now. Seth couldn’t tell whether that was because Trina had taken over the boy’s care, or because Martha enjoyed having the company of another woman, but he was pleased the arrangement was off to a good start.
On Saturday he woke to the racket of raindrops pummeling the rooftop and he eased out of bed. After milking the cow, he collected eggs from the henhouse. Usually this was Tanner and Timothy’s responsibility, but it was raining too hard to allow them to go outside.
When Seth returned to the house, Tanner was standing in the kitchen, knuckling his eyes sleepily. “Daed, is it time for Trina to kumme yet?”
“She doesn’t kumme until you and your brother have changed into your clothes, eaten your breakfast and brushed your teeth. I already collected the oier because it’s raining and I don’t want you to go outside today unless it stops.”
“We’re teaching Trina how to collect oier, too, but she’s afraid to put her hand in the coop. She thinks the hinkel will peck her. Groossmammi told us it isn’t kind to laugh at her so we never do,” Tanner reported solemnly. Then he corrected himself, admitting, “We did laugh the first time, Daed. But we never do anymore. Not even when she’s scared and she jumps like this.”
Tanner’s imitation of Trina’s jitters reminded Seth of how she’d flinched when he opened the cupboard to check for the mouse, and he suppressed a chuckle. “Groossmammi is right. It isn’t kind to laugh at Trina. Most Englischers buy their eggs in a store, but in time she’ll learn how to collect oier from the henhouse. Now go wake your brother.”
Tanner obediently thumped back upstairs. Meanwhile, Martha shuffled into the room. Anticipating her question, Seth said, “Guder mariye, Groossmammi. I haven’t made kaffi yet but I’ll get it started as soon as I put these oier in the pot to boil.”
“Denki, but I can fix breakfast for us.” Martha removed a pot from the cupboard. With her back to him, she added, “Don’t stand there watching me. I still know my way around a pot of oier. I only had an accident the other day because I wasn’t used to Abe’s stove.”
Seth left the room to wash his hands, returning a few minutes later with Timothy and Tanner. After breakfast Martha served coffee while the boys went to brush their teeth.
Seth took a long pull from his mug and then said, “I probably won’t be home until around suppertime tonight.”
“Why not? You don’t keep the shop open past two o’clock on Saturdays during winter.”
Even though his grandmother knew he intended to eventually visit a matchmaker in the neighboring Elmsville district, Seth felt embarrassed to remind her about it now. “I, uh, I’m going to see Belinda Imhoff this afternoon.”
Martha stopped sipping her coffee. “Ah, I see. Then I guess we’ll have to do our shopping at the Englisch market tonight instead of the one on Main Street this afternoon.”
“If you write out a list for me, I can pick up what you need before I set off to Elmsville. It’s chilly enough that the perishables will keep in the buggy until I get home.”
“Neh, I’d rather go. It will get me out of the house. Besides, Trina will need to kumme shopping, too.”
“Trina? With us?” Seth questioned.
“Jah. In case you haven’t noticed, she doesn’t have a car and it wouldn’t do her any gut to walk to the market in town, since it’s closed by the time you return in the evenings. I don’t know how she has any stamina to keep up with the boys. I try to get her to eat more at dinnertime, but she refuses. I think she feels as if she should bring her own dinner, which is lecherich.”
“Neh, I doubt that’s it. She’s probably just on a diet. You know how the Englisch are.”
“I know how people are. Englisch or Amish, they need food in their houses.”
Seth pulled on his beard. As grateful as he was for Trina’s help, he worried about the boys becoming confused about her role in their lives. This was only a temporary employment situation. If Martha kept treating Trina like one of the family, it coul
d lead to disappointment for Timothy and Tanner once she left.
“I don’t think it’s a gut idea for her to accompany us to the market,” he said.
“Jah, you’re right.” Martha gave in so easily it surprised Seth—until she proposed, “She’d probably prefer going to the market alone anyway. So, instead of going to see Belinda Imhoff this afternoon, perhaps you could kumme home and teach Trina how to hitch the buggy and handle the horse. That way, she’ll be all set to go to the market on her own during the day on Monday. I’ll watch the kinner while she’s gone. If they’re napping, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Seth shook his head incredulously. “Neh. She’s not going to use my horse and buggy any more than I’d drive her car.”
“Gut. Then you’ll put off going to Elmsville this afternoon so we can all make it to the market in town before it closes,” Martha stated as if it were a done deed.
Although frustrated, Seth knew he couldn’t compete with his grandmother’s cunning logic. “Alright. She can accompany us to the Englisch store in Highland Springs tonight.”
His grandmother smiled in his direction. “The buwe will be delighted.”
On that note, Timothy and Tanner scrambled into the room, dragged a chair to the window and climbed atop it together to watch for Trina.
“There she is,” shouted Timothy. They got down and ran to open the door.
“Hurry, Trina. It’s raining!” Tanner called, as if she wasn’t aware.
“Guder mariye,” she sang out, shaking raindrops from her long hair after she hung up her jacket. “What a wunderbaar day.”
“You’re joking now but wait until you’ve been shut indoors all day,” Seth said. “I don’t want the buwe going outside. Do you hear me, Timothy and Tanner?”
“Jah, Daed,” they chorused.
“That’s alright. We’re going to play a rainy-day animal game inside. It’s called Noah’s Ark,” Trina promised and the boys capered in circles around her. Turning to Seth she added, “If I remember correctly, Bible stories are permitted, jah?”
Seth’s ears and forehead stung. She was being cheeky, but it didn’t feel offensive like the brazen remarks some of his Englisch customers made. “Of course Bible stories are allowed, provided they’re in German, since that’s the language our Bibles are printed in and the language our preachers speak when they’re delivering a sermon.”
“Naturlich werde ich sprechen Deutsche.” In German Trina said of course she’d speak in German. Seth had only meant to be facetious. He didn’t realize she actually knew the language. Once again, he felt his face flush.
But his ultimate embarrassment came when his grandmother bid him goodbye. “Mach’s gut, Seth. I hope your meeting with the matchmaker goes well. We’ll have supper on the table and you can tell us all about it tonight!”
The youth in Willow Creek usually made a rigorous effort to keep their courtships private, even from their family members. Since Seth had already been married once, he didn’t exercise the same level of discretion about courtship when speaking with his grandmother now as he would have when he was younger. Still, he was thoroughly abashed to have her announce his intention of going to a matchmaker in front of Trina. Realizing his humiliation wasn’t so much because Trina was Englisch as it was because she was a woman, he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.
Chapter Three
Trina felt sorry for Seth. He clearly was embarrassed that Martha had said anything about him going to a matchmaker, especially in front of her. But the boys clamored for Trina’s attention and she turned her focus to them.
“How do we play Noah’s Ark?” Timothy asked.
“We start by reading Noah’s story in the Bible,” Trina told them. They sat on the braided rug in front of the woodstove while Trina read to them from the book of Genesis and Martha listened from her spot in the rocking chair. When Trina finished the passage, she instructed the boys to go into the hall and agree on an animal to imitate. When Trina called them into the room, which they were pretending was an ark, they were to enter as a pair, miming their chosen animal. If Trina guessed what they were, they’d go back into the hall and return as a different pair of animals. The boys loved the game and Trina and Martha were entertained by their imitations.
“You have such a way with kinner,” Martha later complimented her as she and Trina were preparing dinner together.
“Denki.” Trina placed the bread Martha had coached her to make on the cutting board.
“You’ll make a wunderbaar mamm someday soon, too,” Martha said. “Is there a special man in your life in Philadelphia? Someone you’re...how do the Englisch say it? Dating?”
“Jah,” Trina responded absentmindedly. The bread hadn’t risen as high as she anticipated it would and it seemed tough. “I mean, jah, we call it dating. But neh, I’m not dating anyone.”
Martha clicked her tongue. “Those Englisch men can’t be too smart to let such a kind, bright and becoming maedel like you pass them by.”
Trina laughed. “I don’t meet that many Englisch men. Most of my time is spent at school where there are only two male teachers and both are married. I’ve dated a couple of men I knew from church, but those relationships didn’t last. Besides, I’m not really interested in getting married.” She extended the loaf of bread in Martha’s direction. “Does this feel hard to you?”
Martha took it from her. “Perhaps. The rainy weather probably affected the yeast.”
“Oh, neh. I wanted it to turn out!”
“It’s alright, dear. The buwe won’t mind.”
It wasn’t the boys Trina was worried about; it was Seth. For some reason, she wanted to prove to him she wasn’t the microwaving sort of cook he probably took her for. Even if she was.
After they’d eaten dinner, Martha had intended to tell the boys a story while Trina cleaned up in the kitchen, but the older woman had a koppweh, a headache.
“It’s the light,” she explained. “If there’s a white glare like there is today, it bothers my eyes. If I turn on a lamp at night, I see halos. If I’m out in the sun, my eyes hurt then, too.”
“Would you like an aspirin?” Trina offered.
“I’m afraid we’re out. That was one of the items on my grocery list.”
“I might have some at my house. Let me run over and get them.”
“Can we kumme?” the boys pleaded, but Trina reminded them their father said they couldn’t go out in the rain, so she dashed home by herself.
She quickly searched her toiletry bag, but she hadn’t any bottles of aspirin in it. There was, however, a pair of sunglasses. Maybe they would help. Trina slipped them into her pocket and bounded back to Seth and Martha’s house.
“Oh, that does feel better, dear. Denki,” Martha said after she’d put the lenses on over her own glasses.
“Groossmammi, you look voll schpass.” Of course Tanner would think she looked very funny; he’d probably never seen mirrored lenses before.
“I can see me in your eyes,” Timothy declared. He made a funny face in front of Martha and studied his reflection.
“Buwe, I’d like you to help me in the kitchen. Tanner, you may sweep while Timothy brings the dirty plates to the sink,” Trina instructed. Then she asked Martha if she could get her anything else, but Martha said she was just going to sit there and take a quick catnap.
“Katze don’t nap sitting up. They curl around like this.” Timothy fell to the floor to demonstrate. Chuckling, Trina beckoned him to his feet again.
“Daed says we can’t have katze in the house,” Tanner explained as he followed Trina and Timothy. “Groossmammi’s ’lergic. That means she sneezes when she touches katz fur.”
Trina suddenly understood their fascination with pretending to be animals. “Do you know what makes me sneeze? It starts with the letter S.” She emphasized the S sound.
�
�Snakes?”
“Skunks?”
“Neh. Soap!” Trina exclaimed as she scooped a handful of dish soap bubbles over the boys’ heads and pretended to sneeze, blowing the bubbles everywhere. Timothy and Tanner whooped and tried to catch them. Despite their exuberance, it was time for their nap, so when they finished cleaning the kitchen, Trina tucked them into their beds and returned to the parlor where Martha was rummaging through a bag of fabric.
“I thought you were going to rest,” Trina commented.
“I did. Now let’s get you started on making a new skirt.”
Martha instructed Trina how to take her measurements and began guiding her through creating a pattern. Trina made so many erasures she figured that even though Martha’s vision was impaired the older woman could do a better job of it.
“It’s alright. Take your time,” Martha said the fourth time Trina botched her penciling. As Trina erased the markings, Martha hummed, but it wasn’t a hymn from the Ausbund.
“My mamm taught me that one,” Trina said and sang a few lines. “She usually hummed or sang while she was sewing. Did she learn to do that from you?”
Martha smiled. “More likely, I learned to do that from her. Sometimes when Patience used to kumme over, we’d sit here sewing together. If we weren’t talking, she was always humming or singing. At the time, my husband, Jacob, thought it was because she was so happy.”
Trina stopped erasing. “But you knew that wasn’t the reason,” she said quietly, knowing the answer.
“Jah, I knew it wasn’t the reason.” Martha nodded. “I knew it was because she couldn’t stand the silence in her house. Singing or humming was her way of keeping herself company.”
A fat tear plopped onto the paper Trina was bending over. She was simultaneously relieved her mother had had someone like Martha in her life who understood her so well, yet saddened to be reminded of her mother’s loneliness as a child. She might have started crying in earnest if Timothy and Tanner hadn’t clomped into the room at just that moment.
Her New Amish Family Page 4