Fannie cracked up, as if he’d intended to amuse her. “Lappich! I wasn’t talking about her transportation. I was talking about using her cell phone to figure out where to go.”
“Actually,” Trina countered, “I rarely use GPS and I wouldn’t have used it today but I didn’t have a map, I’m new in town and I really didn’t want to miss church. Besides, it’s not the GPS that failed me. It was my own sense of direction I was following through the woods.”
“What church did you go to?” Seth asked and when Trina replied, he whistled. “You must have walked a gut three miles to end up where you are now. It’s another three miles home.”
“Wow, I really did go out of my way. The church was only two and a half miles from my house when I started out this morning,” she joked.
“Either that or the road grew longer while you were in church,” Seth teased. “That must have been some lengthy sermon!”
Trina giggled but Fannie shook her head. “I don’t think it’s proper to joke about worship,” she said under her breath and then was silent for the rest of the trip.
“Denki for the ride,” Trina said to Seth when he dropped her off at her house. Then she told Fannie it was nice to meet her.
As Trina climbed the steps to her door, Fannie remarked, “The poor thing, her husband is going to think she looks like something the katz dragged in.”
“She doesn’t have a husband.”
“Ah. I wondered about that.”
Seth didn’t know what she was getting at. “Why would you wonder about whether Trina has a husband or not?”
“Oh, just because she went to church alone,” Fannie said. Then, before Seth could offer to drop her off at his front door, she asked, “Could you let me off here? I’ll get wet walking from the stable and since your buggy doesn’t have a heater, I’m already cold.”
Once again, Seth couldn’t tell if she was being critical. Their Ordnung allowed certain kinds of heaters in their buggies, but he felt blankets worked just fine for the short distances they usually traveled. Would Fannie expect him to get a heater while they were courting? His mind jumped to Trina’s remarks about how much fun it was to ride in the buggy the previous night. Then he realized Trina hadn’t complained at all about being cold on the way home today, even though Fannie had two blankets on her lap and Trina had had none. Seth shook his head and told himself he was probably the one being critical about Fannie. I need to see how she interacts with the buwe and Groossmammi before I make any quick judgments, he thought.
When Seth returned from the stable Fannie was already in the parlor with Martha and the boys, sitting next to the woodstove. “Have you met everyone, Fannie?” he asked.
“Jah. Your groossmammi and I thought we’d have tea as soon as my feet warm up, and then Timothy and Turner are going to show me how they play a game called Noah’s Ark.”
“You mean Tanner,” Tanner told her.
“What?” Fannie asked.
“My name is Tanner. You called me Turner.”
“Oh, did I?” Fannie asked. “That’s probably because you’ve been spinning in so many circles since I arrived, I thought your name was Turner.”
“I can spin, too!” Timothy announced, showing them.
“I’ll say you can,” Fannie agreed. “You can spin just like a tornado. I should call you Twister. Turner and Twister.”
The boys’ laughter allayed some of Seth’s reservations and he offered to get the tea.
“Nonsense,” Fannie objected. When Martha rose from her chair, Fannie said, “I’ll make it. Martha, you just stay put. This will give me a chance to familiarize myself with your kitchen.”
If there was one thing that nettled Seth’s grandmother more than anything else, it was having another woman in her kitchen. It didn’t matter that Martha was nearly blind; she was in charge of her kitchen and that was that. In fact, it had surprised Seth when his grandmother allowed Trina to make suppers, but he assumed it was because Martha was teaching her to become a better cook. In any case, Seth held his breath, waiting to see how his grandmother would react to Fannie saying she’d get the tea.
“Denki,” Martha finally replied, lowering herself into the chair again. “That would be wunderbaar.”
Seth exhaled and sat down at the end of the sofa.
“Seth,” his grandmother whispered loudly and gestured toward his head. “Your hut. Take off your hut.”
Seth chuckled. He’d forgotten to remove it. As he went to hang it on a peg, he smoothed his hair. It was damp near the back of his neck, but not nearly as wet as Trina’s had been.
Poor maedel, she must be chilled to the bone, he thought. I hope she remembers how I showed her to build a fire. Maybe I’ll have time to check before I take Fannie back to her home.
Then he thought better of it. Fannie seemed to disapprove of Englischers even more than Seth sometimes did and he sensed she didn’t think it was appropriate for him to be so concerned about Trina. He supposed Fannie was right. Trina wasn’t his responsibility. He had a courtship to pursue, if not with Fannie—he still wasn’t sure what he thought about her—then with another Amish woman Belinda would introduce him to. So he returned to the parlor and joined Martha and Fannie as the boys showed them the game their Englisch nanny had taught them.
Chapter Four
After Seth left the house on Monday, Tanner and Timothy filled Trina in about Seth’s afternoon with Fannie. Although Trina hadn’t prompted them, she was curious about what kind of woman Fannie was. Trina’s initial impression was that she was a little uptight, but that might have been because it was her first time out with Seth and she was nervous.
“Yesterday we showed Daed and Fannie how to play Noah’s Ark,” Timothy told Trina as they walked along the bank of the creek. Just as Trina expected, once Seth saw how closely she kept watch over his sons, he’d allowed the trio to trek along their favorite path.
“That must have been fun,” Trina replied, pleased they liked the game enough to show it to their father.
“It wasn’t as much fun as with you. Fannie couldn’t guess we were being inchworms,” Tanner complained.
“We did this,” Timothy said. He imitated an inchworm alternately raising itself into an arch with its hind legs and advancing forward with its front legs until it was stretched flat again.
Trina clapped, laughing. “That was excellent, Timothy!” The child had really captured the essence of an inchworm’s movements. The boys had probably studied the little critters on one of their countryside walks with Seth.
“Fannie didn’t think so. She thought I was being a camel.”
“Maybe she thought you were making your back into a hump, like a camel’s.” Even as she offered the diplomatic explanation, Trina wondered how Fannie could have mistaken Timothy’s movements for anything other than an inchworm. The imitation was so accurate it didn’t take much imagination to guess what he was doing. “Did your daed guess?”
“Neh, he said ‘ladies first,’ so Fannie kept guessing and guessing and she didn’t ever give him a turn. Then Tanner told her we being were inchworms.”
“She was taking too long and I wanted us to be bears, instead,” Tanner said.
Trina tried not to giggle. That was exactly how Fannie had struck her, as someone who didn’t easily admit defeat. Not that it mattered much to Trina. Seth was the one who’d have to figure out if she was a “gut match” for him or not. Trina said, “Well, I think it was kind of you to show Fannie the game. In time, she’ll learn how to play.”
“Jah, like you and the oier,” Tanner said, stopping to toss a rock into the creek.
“What do you mean, like me and the oier?” Trina asked.
“Daed said Englischers collect their oier from a grocery store and it’s not nice to laugh if you’re scared of the hinkel. In time you’ll collect oier from the henhouse, too.”
&n
bsp; Trina didn’t know whether she felt indignant or grateful for Seth’s instruction to the boys. Yes, he was teaching Timothy and Tanner to demonstrate kindness, but he was also emphasizing her difference. “Your Daed is right. I will learn to collect oier from the henhouse. In fact, I’m going to collect them from now on, without any help from you buwe.”
“Aw, but we like to help you, Trina.” Tanner stomped on a fallen pine cone.
“You can still help. You’ll hold the basket for me.”
Indeed, the next day, Trina retrieved the eggs on her own. One broody hen didn’t want to relinquish her spot in the nesting box, but Trina successfully shoed her away on the second try. She placed the warm brown eggs in the basket Tanner held out for her and then Timothy carried it into the house.
Martha had planned to use a couple of the eggs to make custard pie for her friends, Pearl Hostetler, Ruth Graber and Ruth’s daughter-in-law, Iris. They were coming to work on one of the quilts they donated to a charity for children in foster care. But after dinner Martha’s eyes were bothering her so much she developed a headache and had to lie down.
“Ruth will probably bring a treat from her nephew’s wife’s bakery anyway,” Martha said.
Trina had heard about the renowned treats Faith Schwartz made and she hoped she’d get a chance to visit the bakery. She was amazed by how voracious her appetite was lately; it was as if she was making up for all the months she’d subsisted on nothing but fruit and crackers or bread.
Once she put the boys down for a nap, Trina decided to bake something on Martha’s behalf, in case Ruth showed up empty-handed. While she didn’t know how to make custard pie without a recipe, her mother had taught her to bake funny cake—a popular Amish dessert that was a cross between a coffee cake and a chocolate pie. I might be new to collecting oier, but I’m no stranger to rolling a pie crust, she thought as she worked the dough.
Knowing the boys would want a piece, she doubled the recipe and she was pulling the second pie from the oven when Martha meandered into the room, sniffing.
“That smells appenditlich. Is it cake?”
“Jah, it’s funny cake. You have a gut sense of smell.”
“Not half as gut as Seth and his seh. They can smell dessert a mile away. I’m surprised Timothy and Tanner haven’t kumme running.”
“They’re napping—”
Trina was interrupted by someone tapping the windowpane on the door.
“Wilkom,” Martha said as she ushered her guests inside. “Kumme, meet Trina Smith, Patience Kauffman’s dochder.”
“Look at you! You’re the image of your mamm at your age, isn’t she, Ruth?” Pearl asked.
“Jah, she is. She is, indeed,” the other elderly woman agreed. She pulled Trina close and kissed her cheek, whispering, “May Gott comfort you in your grief.”
“Denki. He already is,” Trina whispered back.
Moved by the warm reception she’d received, Trina offered to make tea for the three older women and Iris, who looked to be about Trina’s mother’s age.
“That’s a gut idea. Let’s have dessert while it’s warm before you take out your material and supplies. Go ahead into the parlor, we’ll be there in a minute,” Martha directed.
Trina accepted when Martha offered her assistance. She knew nothing bothered Martha as much as being treated as if she were incapable of helping, especially in her own kitchen.
“There are only four slices here,” Martha said, holding the tray. “Where’s yours?”
Trina didn’t expect to be invited to join the group. “The buwe will be awake soon, so—”
“So you’d better cut yourself a slice and kumme sit down before they do.”
Trina couldn’t argue with Martha any more than Seth could, so she obediently cut herself a piece of the funny cake and went into the parlor, too.
“Mm-mmm!” Ruth murmured. “You outdid yourself this time, Martha. I intended to stop by the bakery to get sweets for us, but now I’m glad I didn’t.”
“I wish I could say it’s mine but Trina made it with no help from me.”
“This crust...” Iris began to say but finished chewing and swallowing before she continued “...is so flaky. What’s your secret?”
“Denki,” Trina answered demurely. “My mamm taught me how to make it.”
“Ah, then, you’re not going to tell us your secret, are you?” Ruth winked at her and turned to Pearl. “Remember how Patience would never tell us the secret, either?”
“Jah, all she ever said was her mamm taught her!” Pearl laughed. “No matter how often we pleaded, she didn’t give in. In the end, we decided we’d rather eat it than make it anyway, and we quit pestering her.”
Trina giggled. Her mother had told her that the secret—which involved working the dough and using baking powder—was something that had been passed down for generations. It was such a comfort to hear the women share their recollections of her mother that Trina was sorry when the boys woke up.
She allowed each to eat a slender slice of cake in the kitchen before taking them outdoors. As she was lacing Tanner’s boots for him, she overheard Pearl ask Martha about Seth’s afternoon with Fannie. Trina’s mother was right; she always said there were no secrets in Willow Creek—except for recipes, perhaps. Trina strained to hear Martha’s reply.
“I can’t tell if Seth thought she was a gut match or not, although who knows what that bu is looking for.”
“What about you, what did you think?” Ruth asked.
“She took over my kitchen!” Martha replied frankly and Trina could hear the others gasp in exaggerated horror before bursting into laughter.
While she knew it was uncharitable of her, Trina would be lying if she said she wasn’t a tiny bit glad neither Martha nor the boys took a liking to Fannie. And, although she couldn’t say why for certain she felt this way, she was even happier Seth didn’t seem crazy about her, either.
* * *
As Seth clomped up the porch stairs the smell of something delicious tickled his nostrils. He only had to open the door before he identified the aroma: funny cake. Martha hadn’t made that in over a year.
“Martha? Trina? Buwe?” he called, but no one answered. The table was set and stew was simmering on the stovetop, so they couldn’t have gone far. He lifted the plastic wrap off the pie plate. A little slice wouldn’t ruin his appetite.
“Daed, no sweets before supper,” Tanner scolded when he, Timothy and Trina came upstairs from the basement and caught Seth devouring his second piece over the sink without using a plate.
“I couldn’t resist,” Seth explained to Trina. “Martha hasn’t made this in years. She sure hasn’t lost her touch, though.”
Timothy corrected him. “Groossmammi didn’t make that cake. Trina did.”
“Jah, with oier she collected all by herself.”
“Please go wash your hands,” Trina instructed the boys, who charged from the room.
Chagrinned, Seth clapped the crumbs from his hands. “It really is gut. So, did giving you baking lessons wear my groossmammi out? Or is she lying down because she has a koppweh?”
“Neh, she went with her friends to deliver the quilts to the charity. She’ll be back soon.” Trina moved toward him to wash her hands at the sink. “By the way, Martha didn’t teach me how to make a funny cake—my mamm did.”
“Oh, sorry about that,” Seth apologized. In an attempt to make up for his blunder, he added, “I’m sorry the buwe didn’t help you at the henhouse, too. I’ll talk to them tonight.”
Trina’s tone was smug. “No need to apologize—I wanted to collect the oier myself.”
Seth’s voice cracked with disbelief when he asked, “You did?”
This time Trina laughed. “It’s not all that much different than sticking my hand into a refrigerator at a grocery store and pulling out a carton of eggs like we E
nglischers all do, is it?”
“I admit, I’m impressed by your progress,” Seth replied, leaning toward her and grinning. “Next thing you know, you won’t need me to help you catch mice, either.”
Trina’s eyes were so sincerely fearful as she said, “Please don’t make me do that myself,” that Seth had the impulse to tousle her hair in consolation, the way he might do to the boys.
Instead he said, “On one condition. You make another funny cake again soon. This one is almost gone.”
She ribbed him, saying, “Hmm, I wonder why. But okay, it’s a deal.” She thrust her hand out to shake his but then she suddenly dropped it to her side. “Sorry. That’s an Englisch habit.”
He lifted her hand in his anyway, peered into her dancing green eyes and said, “Deal.”
True to her word, the following Saturday morning, Trina showed up bearing a pie plate covered in foil. “I think I heard the trap snap last night. Will you check it for me?”
Seth guffawed. “I wasn’t serious about the cake but jah, I’ll go check the trap.”
When he returned a few minutes later, Timothy and Tanner were waiting for him on the porch. “Daed, Trina says we have to ask you if we can have a piece of your cake.”
“Jah, but not until after your afternoon nap,” he answered. Then he told Trina he’d emptied the trap. Now that the mouse was out of the wall, he could patch the crack, but he’d have to wait until he returned from work around two thirty or three o’clock before he could get to it.
“I wouldn’t mind taking a piece of that cake with me, though,” he said, and she cut him a generous slice.
Just the thought of it made his mouth water and he looked forward to eating it during his break, but at noon Joseph Schrock, the owner of Schrock’s Shop a few doors down Main Street, stopped in to visit.
“Have you heard the news? It’s baremlich, isn’t it?” the bespectacled man asked.
Her New Amish Family Page 6