After taking books and drawing paper back to Trina’s house for the boys and stoking the fire, Seth left for Pearl’s house. He worried she might be out visiting people instead of receiving visitors herself, so he was relieved when he arrived and Pearl answered the door.
“Seth, do kumme in. We were just talking about you. Rather, about your neighbor, Trina,” Pearl bubbled, ushering him to the parlor without letting him get a word in edgewise. He wished she’d let him speak privately to her in the kitchen—this matter wasn’t something he wanted to discuss in front of anyone else.
“Kate Dienner meet Seth Helmuth. You knew his groossmammi, Martha Helmuth, when you lived in Willow Creek. You might even remember his daed, Moses Helmuth, who lived here before he got married and moved to Ohio.”
The woman, who looked to be a bit younger than his parents would have been, set down her cup and clasped her hands beneath her chin. “How gut to meet you, Seth. I do remember your groossmammi, but your daed was quite a few years older than I was, so I think by the time I went to school, he’d already moved to Ohio to marry your mamm. But Pearl tells me Patience Kauffman’s daughter is living here now?”
Sometimes Seth wished everyone in Willow Creek didn’t know everything about everyone else. No wonder Trina once told him living in the city afforded a person a certain amount of anonymity, which was sometimes beneficial. “Jah,” he said, wondering what else Pearl had told Kate.
“Patience and I were as thick as thieves until the summer I moved away when I was thirteen,” Kate explained. “I haven’t been back to Willow Creek since then, but this week my husband has business in town. He’s friends with Pearl and Wayne’s son, so when they agreed to host us as while we’re in town, we were delighted. Anyway, I’d love to meet Trina.”
Seth waffled, “Um, I’m not sure that’s a gut idea.”
“It’s alright,” Kate assured him. “I know about how her mamm went Englisch. I’m not going to judge.”
“Neh, it’s not that,” Seth said and then told them about their predicament. Kate insisted she should stay with Trina so Pearl could stay home to host both of their husbands. This actually seemed like a good idea to Seth, who was concerned about the older woman’s stamina. Since Kate had only arrived the night before, she hadn’t fully unpacked yet, so it only took a minute for her to gather her things and bid her husband goodbye at the barn where he was chatting with Pearl’s husband, Wayne.
Back at Trina’s house, Martha was just as glad to see Kate as Kate was to see her, and the older woman seemed relieved it was Kate, not Pearl, who would be staying the night with Trina.
“I’m here all week, so I can stay as long as you’d like,” Kate said, but Seth supposed they’d only need her assistance for a night or maybe two.
Since Kate was so capable, the next day Seth decided that, rather than staying home, he’d take the boys with him to work so they’d be out of the women’s way. It wouldn’t be easy having them underfoot at the shop, but he had three Englisch customers coming to pick up their specialty orders and he didn’t want to fail them if at all possible. First, he took Martha to Trina’s house so she could keep Kate company, or more accurately, so Kate could keep an eye on Martha. While the boys waited outside, he popped in to ask about Trina.
“She had a slight fever last night, but nothing alarming. She’s so exhausted I don’t think she’s even registered who I am. I’d like to stay another day, so if you could let Pearl and my husband know, I’d appreciate it.”
“Will do,” he agreed. “Is there anything I can bring you from town?”
“There sure is,” Martha interrupted. “Half a dozen fry pies from the bakery.”
When Seth raised an eyebrow, Martha said, “Unless you want me to bake, instead...” So he agreed to purchase the goodies.
As soon as the third customer had picked up her attaché case at two thirty, Seth closed shop. When he and the boys reached Trina’s house, he noticed Ethan’s car in the lane. Kate and Martha greeted them in the kitchen, just as Ethan emerged from Trina’s room. He informed everyone that Trina’s vitals seemed fine and her color was better now that she had rested.
“She’s awake?” Seth asked.
“She sure is. She’s hungry, too. You can go through and see her if you’d like. She’s dressed and she wants to come out for something to eat and to sit by the fire. She might need a hand for balance.”
The door was ajar but Seth knocked anyway and slowly pushed it open when Trina told him to come in. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, which was made, with a hairbrush in her hand, but her tresses were still loose.
“Hi, Trina. How are you?” he asked.
“Seth! You’re home early. It’s because you couldn’t get someone to care for the buwe, isn’t it?”
“Well, I wouldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to. After all, look what happens when someone does care for them,” he said, gesturing toward her in reference to her illness.
But she must have misinterpreted his comment, because she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know I look a mess. I can’t believe a simple thing like combing my hair requires so much energy today.”
“Neh, I meant, look what happens to your health, not to your hair,” Seth protested. Then, although he knew he shouldn’t give voice to his thoughts, he didn’t stop himself from adding, “Your hair always looks pretty, whether it’s around your shoulders or pulled up in a horse’s tail.”
Trina threw back her head. Seth wasn’t sure how she’d take the compliment, but he hadn’t expected her to laugh at it. “You mean a ponytail,” she said, and then he had to laugh, too.
“Everyone is in the kitchen preparing sweets and waiting to see you. Can I help you up?” Seth offered his arm and Trina grasped it as she pulled herself into a standing position. Then she let go and took a few wobbly steps. Seth immediately held out his hand again and she interlocked her fingers with his. They simultaneously lowered their arms between them as if they were holding hands while out for a stroll. The sensation made him feel unsteady but he ambled with her down the hallway like that. Then, squeezing their fingers in silent agreement, right before entering the kitchen they released each other’s hand so no one would see.
* * *
Seth’s steady, masculine fingers gripping hers for a few fleeting seconds was worth every hour of feeling lousy the past night and day. Trina hadn’t glanced at him while they were walking hand in hand from her room down the short hallway and through the parlor because she hadn’t wanted to discover she was having another feverish dream. But once the warmth of his skin against hers slipped away and she entered the brightness of the kitchen, she knew it had been real and she wished she had walked slower. Or stopped walking altogether—anything to prolong their closeness.
She’d been close to Seth before, of course, such as when he’d helped her down from the rock or up from her bed, but this time was different; this time there was no questioning whether there was something more than helpfulness or friendliness between them. Right before dropping her hand, Seth had given hers a squeeze and she’d squeezed back in secret acknowledgment of their mutual affection.
So when Martha told her she looked dazed, Trina replied, “I’m fine. It’s just I’m not used to the bright sunlight,” and the woman introduced as Kate Dienner quickly drew the shade.
After the boys had given her drawings of lions they made while they were at Seth’s shop, Kate poured tea for the adults and milk for the boys, and then served apple fry pies.
“What about me? Don’t I get one?” Trina sounded like a disappointed child when she wasn’t offered a piece of dessert.
“I don’t know if that’s wise, dear,” Martha said. “I think you should start slowly, maybe have a piece of dry toast.”
Trina wrinkled her nose. “Dry toast?” she repeated, as if she’d been offered a dead skunk. “I’ve been exhausted, not sick to my stomach.�
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Seth interjected, “Before he left, Dr. Gray—I mean, Ethan—didn’t say she couldn’t have regular food, so I don’t see any harm in it.”
Trina glanced at him and said, “Jah, please listen to the man who thinks I need to fatten up.” The second the words were out of her mouth she worried her comment indicated they’d been bantering in a way that might not have been considered appropriate for an Amish man and an Englisch woman.
Fortunately, Timothy piped up. “Jah, Groossmammi. When bears kumme out of hibernation, they’re hungry, too, and they forage for food.”
“You don’t have to forage, Trina.” Tanner offered, “You can have mine.”
Clearly the darling boy still felt guilty for Trina’s incident at the creek and her heart expanded to near bursting from his sentiment.
Martha chuckled. “Alright, alright. But don’t blame me if you get a tummy ache,” she said as if Trina were a youngster.
The fry pies were so delicious Trina said, “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. And that’s not just because I’m ravenous.” As she licked icing from her upper lip, she caught Seth looking at her and he quickly glanced away again.
“We should go, buwe,” he said when they’d all finished eating, and Martha agreed.
After they left, Kate insisted Trina sit down in the parlor and Trina was suddenly so tired again that she didn’t argue. After Kate finished washing the cups and glasses, she brought Trina a drink of water, urging her to increase her intake of liquids.
“Denki for staying with me,” Trina said. “I don’t know how to express my appreciation that you’d do this for a stranger.”
“Anyone who lives in Willow Creek isn’t a stranger,” Kate replied, settling onto the sofa opposite. “And you especially aren’t a stranger. I grew up with your mamm. At least, until I was about thirteen and we moved away.”
Trina’s concentration must have been off due to her illness because she couldn’t place the woman in the stories her mother shared. The only childhood friend she mentioned had the last name of Stuckey, not Dienner. And her first name was Katrina, not Kate. Suddenly, it dawned on Trina, “What was your name before you married?”
“Stuckey,” Kate said.
Trina leaped up so quickly she felt unsteady again. “You’re Katrina Stuckey!” she exclaimed.
Kate moved to Trina’s side and eased her onto the sofa beside her. “Jah,” she said. “Although Patience was the only person I ever allowed to call me by my full name, Katrina. Everyone else calls me Kate.”
“My mamm thought the world of you. That’s why she named me Trina.” Trina didn’t know if it was because she’d been sick, but she was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and she began to weep into her hands.
Kate wrapped her arm around Trina’s shoulder. “I know. I know,” she said soothingly, until Trina caught her breath again. Then she told her, “Patience was such a dear maedel, my closest friend. How I regret losing touch with her after I moved...”
It was Trina’s turn to comfort the older woman. “Mamm understood. She said she figured you were probably adjusting to life with your new friends in a new place and she wanted you to be happy there.” After a pause, Trina confided, “My mamm left the Amish, you know.”
“I do know. I probably even know why,” Kate said. “I might not agree with her decision, but I really do understand why she made it.”
Trina changed the subject to something happier. “One of mamm’s favorite memories was when the two of you went ice skating on her thirteen birthday at Wheeler’s Pond the winter before you moved.”
“Mine, too! Our teeth were chattering and our toes were frozen, but we didn’t want to leave. Not as long as the buwe were still playing broom hockey.”
“What?” Trina’s mother hadn’t told Trina about that.
“Jah—we were awfully young, but your mamm was smitten with a boy named Hannes Kinnell and I liked Jethro Bechler. That’s why Patience decided the perfect birthday would be spent trying to capture their attention. We even brought a thermos of cocoa to entice them to chat with us.” Kate shook her head, remembering.
“Did they?”
“Only long enough to drink the cocoa.” Kate giggled. “Now I don’t blame them. They were a gut five years older than we were. Mind you, they were decent buwe and kind in their own way, but they weren’t interested in us romantically at all. But, at the time, we were devastated. I think both of them eventually married meed from Ohio. And I married a man from Indiana.”
“And my mamm married an Englischer from New York,” Trina said sadly.
“I always hoped she had met someone like Hannes,” Kate said. “I’m sure if she’d met a man like that, she never would have left the Amish.”
“That may be true,” Trina agreed. “Sometimes, growing up, I felt like she didn’t leave the Amish—she only left the geography. I mean, she was still true to her faith. She was true to me, as her family. And she passed down so many Amish ideals and traditions.” Trina laughed. “She tried to, anyway. Some of them I didn’t want to learn. Like how to wash the windows until they sparkled.”
“To tell you the truth, I still don’t like washing windows,” Kate said, laughing.
The conversation was bittersweet and Trina felt worn out with emotion and from the increase in activity, so she decided to turn in early that evening. Kate helped her get ready for bed and brought her a glass of water.
“I always wondered what your mamm would look like if I saw her again as an adult,” she confessed. “I used to wonder if I’d recognize her. Now that I’ve seen you, I know I would have. There’s a lot of her in you, Trina. As much as you miss her, you have so many of her ways.”
Trina was glad it was too dark for Kate to see her tears. “Denki,” she murmured.
But when the door closed behind Kate, Trina couldn’t sleep. She thought about how Kate had said that if Trina’s mother had found a kind and honest man like Hannes Kinnell, she probably wouldn’t have left the Amish. Seth was a kind and decent man, but Trina couldn’t become Amish to have a romantic relationship with him. Being Amish was about a commitment to God, first and foremost. Yet she kept thinking, But I already have that commitment to the Lord. It would just be a different way of demonstrating it. Then she asked herself, if Seth continued to court and even married Fannie, would Trina still want to become Amish? She wasn’t quite sure, although there was definitely something about being among the leit of Willow Creek that made her feel as if she’d come home.
Which in turn made her feel guilty. Like a traitor. How could she think of returning to the place her mother fled from? What kind of daughter was she? No, in her weakened state, her mind was playing tricks on her. She knew she needed rest, and before she could even roll over in bed, she’d fallen asleep again.
* * *
Because Martha absolutely wouldn’t take no for an answer, Seth reluctantly agreed to leave the boys home with her the following day.
“I promise not to use the stove or oven,” she said. “If I want tea, I’ll drop in on Kate. This will mean you’ll have to get a pizza for dinner.”
“Pizza!” Timothy and Tanner cheered. Take-out pizza was a rare treat in their house and he was glad his sons were so happy about it. Tanner had seemed unusually out of sorts since Trina’s creek incident, even though Seth repeatedly assured him it wasn’t his fault.
“Daed, I told Fannie where I’d be,” he explained. “I don’t know why she said she couldn’t find me.”
Seth had suspected as much. Fannie had probably beckoned Seth because she didn’t want him to be alone with Trina any longer than he had been. Seth sighed, knowing she probably had good reason to be wary of the two of them dawdling behind. Every fiber of his being had wanted to take Trina’s hand and run in the opposite direction that day.
Thinking about Trina’s fingers interlocked with his in the hallway of h
er house made Seth sore with yearning. There was no denying they had joined hands the way a couple would and held on until the last possible second. It was so romantic how, as they let go, her fingers delicately trailed along his palm and his trailed along hers until just their fingertips were touching before they’d parted contact completely. Ordinarily, the Amish didn’t prohibit handholding before marriage. But a baptized Amish man handholding with an Englischer, when marriage wasn’t even possible, was another story. Seth knew he was in a precarious position, but at that moment he hadn’t cared. If he had to do it all over again, he would have.
A deep ache harried him all through the morning in his shop. It was a mix of longing and guilt, as well as a strange new understanding of his brother. For the first time since Freeman left, Seth experienced an inkling of empathy toward him, even though he didn’t agree with the choices his brother ultimately made. It was bad enough that Freeman brought pain to their family, but if Seth were to leave, it would be that much worse because he had children. He couldn’t imagine tearing them away from their Amish roots—making a choice for them he hoped they’d never make for themselves.
What was wrong with him to even entertain the notion of leaving the Amish? I could never do that, he thought. I’ve got to put these feelings about Trina aside. That’s all they were—feelings. Emotions. Whims. Besides, she was leaving soon. Was Seth going to ruin his reputation by flirting with an Englischer who was just passing through?
Of course he wasn’t. But try as he might, he still couldn’t get thoughts of Trina out of his mind. He thought of her telling him she’d always have the memory of her mother and herself at the Cape to hold on to. Likewise, Seth would always have the memory of holding hands with Trina, as forbidden as it was. But no, that wouldn’t do. It would be wrong to harbor such a thought.
Instead, he decided to help Trina safeguard her memory of her mother in a material sense. He wanted to fashion a picture frame made of leather. But first he walked to the library on his dinner break and checked out a book on birds. Using the index, he located the page that contained a picture of sandpipers. Yes, that’s what he’d etch into the leather along the border of the frame: two sandpipers scurrying along the edge of a wave. One for Trina and one for her mother. Far, far from here.
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