“What news?”
“About Abe Kauffman’s property.”
Joseph proceeded to tell Seth a developer was interested in buying it once Trina met the requirements to sell. Apparently, after several failed attempts to reach Trina at home, the realtor stopped by Joseph’s shop and inquired about her. He was excited to tell Joseph he had an investor who wanted to buy the property—not for the house, but for the land. The client’s intention was to raze the house and build a beer, wine and spirits store there, since Willow Creek didn’t have one on that side of town. He said with so many buses coming through Main Street, tourists would be thrilled to frequent a liquor store nearby. As a nod to local history, the shop would specialize in German beer and hard cider.
“A liquor store?” Seth echoed. He couldn’t believe his ears. What could be worse than living next door to a liquor store? The traffic, the parking lot, the noise, the lighting...how was he going to raise two boys next to a business like that?
He was so discouraged he left his dinner uneaten and brooded for the afternoon, hardly able to concentrate on his customers’ questions. To him the Englischers seemed unnecessarily preoccupied with the colors of the purses and wallets he made. As long as they securely held money, how much did the color matter? It was a frivolous concern, just like building a beer, wine and spirits store next door to him was an unnecessary pursuit.
It never occurred to him Trina wouldn’t sell—she’d made it crystal clear she was leaving in two months. But Seth wondered if she could be persuaded not to sell to that particular developer. Perhaps she’d be willing to sell to an Amish family or at least to an Englisch family instead of a business. By the end of the day, he felt more hopeful and he polished off his lunch, funny cake and all, before walking home.
“Buwe, you stay here with Groossmammi,” he told Timothy and Tanner when he got there. He hoped to talk to Trina about the rumor he’d heard and he didn’t want the boys listening.
“How was your day? Did you have a lot of customers?” she asked as they strolled across the yard to her house so he could take care of the crack in the wall.
“There was a steady stream, jah.”
“What kind of leatherwork do you sell in your shop?”
“My general inventory includes purses, harnesses, belts, tool pouches, that kind of thing. But often Englisch customers ask me to custom design something special. As long as it’s made of leather, I can probably honor their request. Except for shoes or boots. I don’t make those.”
“Why not?”
She’s certainly inquisitive today. Seth explained, “Usually the people who want me to custom design footwear for them want it because they can’t find their size in a regular store. So if I make shoes for them and they change their minds, I’m stuck with a size fourteen boot. Or a double-wide size eight shoe. Those are hard to sell.”
“Have you ever considered making them pay up front?” Trina asked as she opened her kitchen door.
“Neh. I believe people should be true to their word,” Seth said, following her inside. “The problem is, the Englisch don’t.”
Trina twirled around so abruptly Seth didn’t have time to stop walking and he almost bumped into her. She was nearly as tall as he was and they were so close he could see each individual lash on her lower eyelid. “I’m Englisch and I honor my word,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
Seth didn’t mean for another one of their conversations to become contentious, but with her standing so near, he couldn’t think of what to say to fix it. Nor did he want to move away. “I—I...” he stammered.
Trina stepped backward and giggled. Oh, so she was only pretending to be angry. “Now it’s your turn to honor your word.” She gestured toward the kitchen cupboard.
Seth could feel his lips lift into a goofy smile but he didn’t respond aloud. The tension between them was broken but it took him a moment to recover before he began patching the crack inside the cupboard. As he worked, Trina put on a pot for tea and he was almost ready to sit down and share a cup with her when someone knocked at the door.
“Yes?” Trina questioned after opening it.
“I’m Kurt Johnson,” the short man with unusually bright teeth said. “You know, the realtor who called you last week. We talked about getting together, remember?”
So Trina had already been in touch with him. How could she have agreed to meet with someone who was going to sell to a developer? Didn’t she understand what living next door to a liquor store would be like for Seth and his family—especially the boys?
“Sorry. I’d forgotten,” Trina replied. “Um, this is my...my neighbor, Seth Helmuth.”
Seth nodded and then turned his attention to collecting his tools.
“We were just about to sit down for tea. You’re wilkom to join us,” Trina said.
“Terrific!” Kurt seemed overly zealous to Seth.
“I’m actually heading home now,” Seth told Trina. If she was going to make a deal with someone like Kurt, he didn’t want to be there to bear witness to it.
* * *
Trina was disappointed when Seth left, but she didn’t blame him; he probably thought Kurt was a pushy Englischer—and he was right. From the moment he sat down until the moment Trina ushered him out the door, the realtor tried to convince Trina it was in her best interest to sell the property to a developer who wanted to use the land for commercial purposes. Specifically, to build a liquor store. When Trina heard that, she nearly choked on her tea.
“You’d be doing the community a service,” he said. “And you’d stand to profit so much more than if you sold this house to a family.”
“This community is Amish. They wouldn’t patronize a liquor store,” Trina replied. “And you still haven’t told me how you knew my house might be for sale.”
Kurt shrugged. “We have our ways of finding out. Now listen, even if the Amish won’t patronize the shop, the tourists and non-Amish locals will. Indirectly, you’ll be helping the Amish businesses flourish because it’s only a tiny detour from Main Street to here. Business for the liquor store means business for the Amish shops and vice versa.”
Trina shook her head. “I’m not selling to a developer. They’d ruin the land. There’s a beautiful creek out back. The two buwe—I mean boys—living next door love to play out there. They won’t be able to if cars are constantly driving in and out.”
“You’re being sentimental. This lot could command almost half a mil,” Kurt said. “If you sell the house and land as-is for someone to reside in, you won’t even see six figures.”
Even five figures would have felt like a windfall to Trina, but that was beside the point. Trina absolutely wouldn’t do that to the people of Willow Creek—especially the Helmuths. Besides, it would dishonor her mother’s memory to allow the location to be used for a liquor store when alcohol had played such a detrimental role in her childhood.
Standing, Trina said, “I appreciate your input, but I have things to do.” She had really hoped to get into town, since she was itching to see Main Street, but now it was too late, so she’d probably just do her laundry and then read.
“Alright. Here’s my card if you have any questions. When can I stop in and see that you’ve changed your mind?”
“Never,” Trina blurted out. “I mean, I’d prefer you call instead of stopping in. I’ll give you my cell phone number.”
“Already have it, remember?” Kurt held up his phone to show her. “And before you ask how I got it—”
“I know, I know. You have your ways,” Trina said and Kurt gave her a cheesy grin.
After realizing she still had one clean skirt to wear to church the next day, Trina decided to forego washing her clothes until Monday, when she could hang them on the line first thing in the morning. Instead she ate a bowl of chili and curled up with a book Martha had loaned her, followed by studying the Bible in preparation
for church.
Stretching out in bed that night, she felt toasty warm and thought of her mother. Trina wished she had a photo of her when she was a girl, but of course, photos were prohibited among the Amish. She loved it whenever people said she looked like her mother, although Trina thought Patience had been far prettier than Trina would ever be. Then she found herself wondering what Seth’s wife must have looked like, since the boys looked exactly like him.
More and more her thoughts turned to Seth lately. Instead of being annoyed when he teased her about the Englisch, she enjoyed being the focus of his attention and she rather liked teasing him back. She thought of how close their faces had been this afternoon and she shivered. What was wrong with her? Did she have a crush on him, or was it simply that he was one of the only two adults she spoke to on a regular basis? As she rolled onto her side and adjusted her pillow beneath her neck, she anticipated going to church would help refocus her thoughts.
Indeed, the next day Trina’s mind was wholly occupied with the pastor’s sermon and with singing praises to the Lord. Once again, after the service ended Ethan offered her a ride home, and once again she declined. She was sure she could make it to Main Street today. Even though the stores were all closed, she could peek into the shop windows. The mercantile and Schrock’s Shop were the only stores she remembered her mother mentioning; the bakery, seasonal ice cream parlor, and furniture restoration shop must have been new since her mother was a girl.
Also, there was Seth’s leather shop. Or, as the plain sign said: Helmuth’s Leatherworks. Trina peeked in the large glass window. The storefront wasn’t as large as she expected, but she remembered Seth saying most of the space was dedicated to his workshop, which was located in the back of the store. Even from a distance she could see how beautiful his handiwork was and she felt a sense of admiration. You couldn’t buy such finely crafted items in the most extravagant Englisch shop in Philadelphia.
From there, she walked to Wheeler’s Bridge and Wheeler’s Pond, which had a few slushy ice chunks floating in it but otherwise wasn’t frozen over. This was where her mother used to go skating with her friends. She remembered her mother telling her how, on her thirteenth birthday, she and her friend Katrina spent the afternoon skating there and then Katrina’s mother had brought the girls home for hot chocolate and whoopie pies, Patience’s favorite. Trina was filled with happiness at seeing these sights and she practically pranced home.
The creek meandered behind several houses and when she spotted a few Amish farmers or Amish children, she worried they’d forbid her to trespass, but they merely waved and she waved back. Finally, just as she was climbing the hill leading home, she saw Timothy and Tanner, and her heart skipped a beat as she imagined Seth was close by. But no, it was Martha sitting on a rock, her face turned toward the sun. They must have finished their family’s worship services, since it was an off Sunday, meaning Amish families gathered separately in their own homes instead of as a community.
“Guder nammidaag, Martha!” Trina called.
Martha waved in her direction and the boys darted straight for her, each trying to outrun the other. Tanner won.
“I prayed we’d see you today,” he said after he caught his breath.
“Me, too,” Timothy echoed.
Trina’s heart absolutely swelled with affection.
“Specially ’cause we asked Daed if you could kumme to our house for worship but he said neh.”
“Jah, he said you’re Englisch and you go to an Englisch church and you’re like a puppy.”
“A puppy?” Trina questioned as the threesome trod toward Martha.
“Jah. We found a lost puppy and we wanted to keep it but Groossmammi is ’lergic. Daed said not to get too close to you or we’ll be sad, like we were about giving away the puppy.”
“Am I too close to you now, Trina?” Timothy asked, taking a step away from her.
Now Trina was angry. It was one thing when Seth teased her about her Englisch ways; she enjoyed their banter. But it was another thing altogether to point out her differences to the boys and make them afraid to be near her. Didn’t he know how children took language literally at this age?
“Neh, you’re not close enough,” she said, squatting down and holding her arms wide. “Kumme closer and give me a hug.”
Both Tanner and Timothy squeezed closer, nearly knocking her over. She hugged them tightly and then let go. “Now, did that make you sad?” she asked.
“Neh,” they answered in unison.
“Then I guess I’m not like that stray puppy, after all, am I?”
“Neh, a puppy goes like this.” Timothy scooted away, barking, and his brother pretended to wag his tail as he followed.
“Give me your arm, dear,” Martha said when Trina reached her, and Trina steadied her as they walked home behind the boys. Trina’s cheeks were stinging, but it wasn’t from the cold. She was so distraught over Seth’s remarks she could barely manage one-word replies to Martha’s questions about church.
Finally the old woman stopped and said, “Please don’t mind the buwe’s comments. I heard what they told you and that’s not exactly how Seth explained the differences to them.”
“But it’s the gist, I’m sure,” Trina said sharply, not even censoring her anger for Martha.
“Perhaps, but you have to understand. He’s actually trying to protect the buwe.”
Trina dropped Martha’s arm. “Protect them? From me? If I’m so dangerous, why is he allowing me to watch Timothy and Tanner at all?”
“Ach, I’ve said the wrong thing,” Martha muttered and her eyes filled. “I didn’t mean you were dangerous. I meant...you see, Seth’s brother, Freeman, fell in love with an Englischer. She promised she intended to join the Amish and she lived with an Amish family not far from here for almost two years in preparation. But in the end, she couldn’t give up her Englisch lifestyle, so Freeman gave up his Amish one.”
Trina took Martha’s arm again, feeling guilty, as Martha continued speaking.
“It broke Seth’s mamm’s heart and she died shortly after. Seth’s daed had died years before, so Seth was left alone. I don’t know if he’s ever forgiven Freeman or his wife. I think he carries a lot of fear and hurt, which manifest as intolerance. No matter what Freeman chose, I know Seth still loves and misses his brother. I think he wants to be sure the buwe don’t miss you like that when you leave. That’s what I meant by protecting them.”
Trina felt the anxiety dissolve from her body. “Denki, Martha, for telling me that. It helps.” Then she laughed. “I guess I am kind of a stray, aren’t I?”
“Neh!” Martha vehemently denied it. “You’re a gift from Gott to our family.”
“So is your family to me,” Trina said, patting Martha’s arm. She was assisting the older woman up the stairs to her home as Seth exited the house. The bright blue collar of his good church shirt turned his eyes from steely gray to bright blue and his honeyed hair shone in the sunlight before he set his hat on his head.
“Guder nammidaag, Trina,” he said tersely before turning to Martha. “I’ll see you this evening. Don’t keep supper for me.”
When he was out of earshot, Martha whispered, “He’s going courting again.”
Even though Trina had expected as much, her heart sank as she led Martha inside for tea.
* * *
On his way to Fannie’s house, Seth thought more about Trina than he did about Fannie. He kept wondering what she’d told the realtor. He could only hope she hadn’t made any decisions, because he wanted to talk to her first. Maybe if he presented his case, or if he found a family who was looking for a new place to live, he could get her to change her mind.
With those thoughts preoccupying him, he arrived at Fannie’s house. Her two girls, Greta and Hope, ages five and eight, respectively, greeted him in the yard as he was hitching his horse to the post. They led him inside
, where Fannie was preparing a tray of dessert with coffee for the adults and hot chocolate for the children. Seth was a little taken aback when each of the girls helped themselves to two thimble cookies and a honey bar each before Fannie even set the tray on the coffee table in the parlor. A few minutes later the girls discarded the treats, half eaten.
When he and Fannie finished theirs, he suggested, “Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s unusually sunny and warm outside today.”
But Hope whined about wanting to play a game of Go Fish. Apparently, Fannie had promised her they’d play together. Before the end of the game, Greta was in tears because she lost, and Hope and Fannie were arguing over whether Hope peeked at her mother’s cards. Seth was glad when they’d eaten supper—or, in the girls’ case, had eaten half their suppers—and he could head home. He’d already decided to ask Belinda to introduce him to someone else.
Martha had managed to put the boys to bed herself and she was waiting for him in the parlor. “So, how was your afternoon with Fannie and her dechder?”
When he finished telling her about the game and the desserts, Martha clicked her tongue. “I guess it’s not just the Englisch who spoil their kinner, after all, is it?”
Seth realized she was referencing remarks he sometimes made about Englisch customers. “Jah, you’re right. But the Amish would never build a liquor store next door to us.” Then he told Martha what Joseph had told him, peppering the conversation with references to the realtor as “a little weasel.”
“I’m sure Trina would never sell her mamm’s house to a developer for a wine and spirits shop,” she said dismissively.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I knew her mamm and she didn’t raise a dochder like that.”
“How can you say that?” Seth asked incredulously. “Her mamm left the Amish! She became an Englischer. She abandoned her daed! You can’t trust—”
“Listen here, young man,” Martha interrupted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Trina’s mamm didn’t abandon her daed—her daed abandoned her. That maedel practically had to raise herself because her brute of a daed was too consumed with the bottle to care for his dochder. By the time she turned eighteen, Abe’s drinking had gotten so bad sometimes he’d pass out on their front lawn. She was probably so tired of taking care of him she did the only thing she could think to do—she took care of herself by leaving.”
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