by Sarah Price
For a moment, no one seemed to move except Mary Ruth. She pretended not to see the children, staring through the railings of the stairs at her. Instead, she went about the business of opening cabinets to look for a bowl in order to crack the eggs. She was surprised to see that each cabinet was neat and orderly. Completely different than Leah’s house, she thought to herself. Despite having grown up with a mamm who secretly prided herself on having a neat and tidy house, Leah seemed to have missed acquiring that gene.
Cracking the eggs on the side of the bowl, Mary Ruth hummed to herself. It was a hymn from the Ausbund, one of her favorites. She glanced over her shoulder. The children were still staring at her. With a short little sigh, she turned back to the eggs and began to sing softly.
With pleasure and joy I will sing praises to God,
Unto the Father good,
My Spirit does strive thereafter.
For He my heart does gladden,
And with His grace stands by me always
O Lord God, You have chosen me through grade
On this earth,
And numbered me among Your children.
Therefore Your name is praised,
All my life I give thanks to You.[1]
When she stopped singing, she glanced again over her shoulder and was pleased to see Melvin walking toward her. “Would you like to stir these while I see about toasting some bread?” she asked. He nodded and took the fork from her hand, eyeing her cautiously as he reached for the bowl. “Just flick your wrist a bit,” she instructed him gently and mimicked the motion with her own hand. He stared at her then did what she had told him, his eyes still on hers as if seeking reassurance that he was doing it properly. “Perfect!” she exclaimed with a smile.
Mary Ruth glanced around the kitchen, her hands on her narrow hips. “Now, where did you Mamm keep the bread?” she said softly but loud enough so that the girls could hear. “I do wonder!”
She heard the soft patter of bare feet on the floor and glanced down to see one of the girl by her side. Mary Ruth was fairly certain that her name was Suzanna. With big blue eyes and light brown hair, she was a pretty girl. Mary Ruth suspected she was about eight years old. The little girl walked over to a large drawer and pointed to it. “She keeps it there,” she whispered.
“Well!” Mary Ruth said. “That’s quite clever! A big drawer for the bread. Your mamm was right smart, wasn’t she?”
The little girl nodded.
“Why don’t you get the bread out for me and I’ll get the butter. Then we need to see about setting that table. Mayhaps you could help, ja?”
The other two little girls slid down the remaining stairs and padded across the floor to help. Progress, Mary Ruth thought with just a touch of pride. While they weren’t speaking, at least they were moving around and helping. That would be the beginning of healing, she told herself. And once they healed, she could go back to her regular routine.
“What is going on down here?”
She had just sat down at the table with the kinner, having placed a bowl of scrambled eggs in the middle, next to the cut fruit and warm toast. It wasn’t much of a meal but not too shabby for last minute cooking. But the voice that shouted at her from the stairs startled her. Jumping, she almost knocked her fork onto the floor. The children stiffened and stared at the floor.
Menno Yoder stomped down the stairs and approached the table, a scowl on his face. “I asked you a question!”
Patience, she told herself. He’s hurting. “I made some food for your kinner, Menno. They need to eat, ja?” She hesitated, feeling uncomfortable under his hot, angry stare. “I imagine you are hungry, too.” From the looks of it, he had lost quite a bit of weight over the past two weeks since the funeral. He needed to put on more weight and regain his strength if he was going to manage this farm properly and take care of these kinner. “Please join us,” she added.
“I don’t need no invitation to eat at my own table!” he snapped. He looked at the four children and cast a glare in Mary Ruth’s direction. Then, without another word, he stormed to the door, slamming his open hand against the screen door, which swung open. He disappeared outside, leaving a heavy sense of quiet in the room.
Her heart was pounding and she felt close to tears. She didn’t like Menno Yoder, grief or no grief. He was rude and mean, making her forced time helping with the kinner seeming like a punishment, not a gesture of Christian goodwill. But she knew she had to remain strong for the children. The sooner they were self-sufficient, the sooner she wouldn’t have to help and be near that Menno Yoder. “Let’s pray before we eat, shall we?” she said and bowed her head for the silent prayer before their meal.
“Steve! Where are you?”
Steve looked up from the cow that he was milking. His cheek had been pressed against her warm flank as he washed her teats before the milking. It had taken him a minute to realize that someone was calling him. He was in what he called his milking zone, a peaceful place when he reflected and thought about all of God’s blessings. When he heard his name again, he looked up and called out, “Over here!”
His younger brother, Isaac, shouted, “Phone call for you!”
With a big sigh, Steve pushed back from the cow. Before he walked away, he patted her rump gently. She didn’t seem to notice or pay him any attention as she stood there, chewing some hay, waiting patiently for the release of milk from her swollen udders. “Be right back, girl,” he said softly and walked out of the dairy.
Located in an old wooden shanty by the road, the phone was shared by the three families: his daed’s house, his brother’s house, and the tenants that lived across the street in his own farm. He wondered who would be calling him. He wasn’t expecting any calls, that was for sure and certain. Curious, he picked up the pace and hurried over to the shanty. Isaac was standing nearby with a weed whacker in his hands. He had been mowing the tall grass by the road.
“Who is it?” Steve asked.
Isaac shrugged his shoulder. “Don’t know.” Setting the weed whacker aside, he wandered down the side of the property. He’d finish the mowing later, when Steve was no longer on the phone.
It was hot inside the phone shanty. He kept the door open for some fresh air by propping his foot against it. The phone was on a narrow shelf, the receiver resting on a stool that was in the corner. He reached for the receiver and pressed it to his ear. “Steve Fisher here.”
“Steve,” a female voice said. “It’s Mimi Hostetler from the store.”
For a moment, he frowned, trying to place the name. Mimi Hostetler. Store. Then he remembered. Mimi, the young woman who had taken his order for the replacement glass for his windows in the barn. Mimi with the big eyes and fair skin who had walked past him at the Yoder funeral. “Ja,” he finally said. “I remember you.”
She seemed to hesitate. “I…well…I’m calling because…” There was a long pause.
“You there?” he asked, wondering if the call had been disconnected.
“Oh ja, ja,” she said. Then, taking a deep breath, she continued. “Well, your glass is in if you’d like to pick it up.”
Now he was even more confused. She had told him that they would drop the glass off when Isaac’s shipment of farm supplies that he had ordered. He wasn’t in a hurry for the glass so there was no need to pick it up and certainly no need for her to call him. “I see,” he said, although he didn’t.
“Well, ja…” she stammered. “I know that I…I had said that we’d drop them off with your brother’s shipment, but well…” Pause. “Well, I thought you might want to come into the store to pick it up yourself so that you could…” Pause again. “I thought maybe you wanted to fix that window sooner rather than waiting so coming into the store might be better.”
She sounded nervous but Steve couldn’t imagine why. It was just glass. “Uh huh,” he mumbled, still trying to figure out what she was really trying to say. “I reckon I could do that.”
“I mean,” she continued. “It’s only a short buggy ride, a
fter all.”
He shuffled his feet, the receiver feeling odd against his ear. He couldn’t remember ever talking to a woman on the phone before now. It felt odd to be having a conversation with a woman he didn’t know when she wasn’t standing in front of him. “I don’t have a buggy,” he heard himself admitting.
“You what?” She sounded shocked. “How do you get around?”
“Driver.”
“A driver?”
“That’s what I said,” he replied.
“You use a driver to go everywhere?, but how do you…” She stopped mid-sentence.
He smiled to himself. “How do I what, Mimi Hostetler?”
“Well…what I was going to say is…”
“Yes?” he prodded gently.
A short hesitation and then she blurted out, “How do you court anyone without a buggy?” Again, there was a hesitation. “Oh,” she whispered. “I’m…I’m so sorry for saying that.”
He found himself playing with the phone cord as he leaned against the open door and stared across the road to his farm. He had always intended to live on that farm, raise his own family. But time had passed by without any serious courting. He had liked several girls but none enough to ask for their hand in marriage. Then, as he got older, he hadn’t given it much more thought. He just figured that he’d be an old leddich for the rest of his life, but he thought as he wrapped the curly cord around his finger, perhaps there was something in store for him after all.
“I reckon I’ll be down tomorrow to pick up that glass, Mimi,” he said, smiling to himself again. “Say noon time, ja?”
As he hung up the phone, he found himself remembering her face and hearing the nervous tone in her voice just now. For the rest of the afternoon, he thought of nothing else except Mimi Hostetler and the strange phone call with the odd question. Indeed, he thought, how would I court anyone without a buggy?
The driver pulled in the next day at quarter to twelve. Steve was waiting outside, watching Katie run around in a circle, riding a long stick. He had laughed, watching as she pretended to ride her imaginary horse. When he saw the car pull into the driveway, he pushed away from the porch and walked down the stone walkway. “Better park that horse while he’s pulling out, ja?” he teased Katie as he passed her.
“Whoa horsey!” she said, pulling back on the stick. She looked at her uncle and frowned. “Where you going?” It was unusual for Steve to leave the farm at mid-day. After all, the family usually shared dinner together.
“Couple of errands in town,” he said and walked away.
It took almost twenty minutes to get to the store, not because it was far from the farm but because of traffic. The traffic on the main roads was terrible with almost bumper-to-bumper traffic. The driver shook his head as they crawled along Route 340. “Gets worse every year,” he mumbled.
“Sure does,” Steve acknowledged. He glanced at the clock. It was five minutes after twelve. He hadn’t wanted to be late to pick up the glass. He had said noon and wanted Mimi Hostetler to know that he stuck by his word. “Can’t change what you can’t change,” he added. And that sure was the truth!
There were two buggies tied up at the hitching post and one truck parked in front of the store. The driver pulled into the parking lot and shifted the gear into park. “Take as long as you need,” he said as he reached for the newspaper that was on the console between them. Steve had already warned him that he wasn’t certain how long it would take.
He opened the car door and stepped out. Quickly, he made certain that his shirt was tucked in and his hat on straight. He had already brushed the dirt from his boots and made certain that there were no holes in his pants. He didn’t want to look unkempt and disheveled today, that was for sure and certain.
The bell over the door tingled, announcing a new customer had entered the store. Steve shut the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light in the store. The aisles were narrow and he had to turn his body to pass a large man wearing jeans and a grey T-shirt who was bent over to look at items on a lower shelf. In the back, he saw that there were three Amish men standing by the counter. They blocked his view of the cashier.
Quietly, he headed toward the back of the store, his heart pounded and his palm sweaty. He hoped that he hadn’t been wrong. He had tossed and turned all night, replaying the telephone conversation in his mind. Her voice haunted him, so sweet and innocent yet so vivacious and lively. In the morning, he had tried to milk the same cow twice and his brother had laughed at him, asking if he was in need of some coffee. Yes, he had been distracted but it wasn’t coffee that he needed.
When he arrived at the back of the story, he glanced over the shoulders of the three Amish men. To his surprise and disappointment, he saw Jonas Hostetler servicing the men. Quickly and with as much discretion as he could muster, he looked around the store. There was no sign of Mimi Hostetler. She wasn’t there.
He felt his heart flop inside of his chest. How could he have misread the conversation so much? He suspected that he had imagined the interest and curiosity in her voice. Perhaps, he thought, I’m lonelier than I thought. He had never been much interested in women, at least not the women that had been at the youth groups. They had silly chatter or were too interested in getting married right away. He could tell even from the first buggy ride when that was on the girl’s mind, but the disappointment in his chest told him that it was time to start thinking about being alone for the rest of his life. Did he really want that?
“Steve Fisher , ja?”
He looked up and smiled at Jonas. “Gut to see you, Jonas.”
Jonas nodded, his eyes twinkling as he tugged at his beard. “Sorry to hear about your windows. Terrible thing, ain’t so? These Englischer boys need more things to occupy their time.”
Steve nodded, his eyes once again flickering around the back of the store. “I agree, ja.”
“So, if I recall, you came to pick up that glass,” Jonas said, shuffling through some papers. “We could have dropped them off for you,” he added. “But I understand being in a hurry to fix the barn windows.”
Steve frowned and looked at Jonas. He was about to say something, to mention that his daughter had called him to pick up the glass, when there was a burst of life in the back of the store. The back door opened and Mimi hurried into the store. “Daed,” she said, breathlessly. “Mamm says to come for dinner. I’ll take over this customer.” She lifted her eyes to look at Steve then quickly looked away.
He tried to hide his smile. He hadn’t imagined it after all.
“Ja? But what about you? You need some dinner, Dochder.”
Mimi shrugged. “Mamm will save me a plate.” She chewed on her lower lip and motioned toward the door. “She said to hurry or else it would get cold.”
Jonas shook his head as he stepped away from the counter, making room for Mimi to take his place. He looked at Steve and laughed. “You know how these woman fuss about their food,” he teased.
“My mamm is the same, I reckon,” he offered meekly. He didn’t want to admit that, no, he didn’t know about women fussing.
For a moment, there was silence. Jonas left the store and Steve stood awkwardly at the counter. Mimi shuffled through the same papers that her daed had been looking through. The noise sounded loud in the silence of the store.
“Let’s see,” she said, her head bent over the papers. “I believe you came in for some window glass, ja?”
“I believe so,” he replied, trying to hide his smile again. She was charming, he thought, trying to behave as if she hadn’t called him yesterday.
The man in the jeans and T-shirt walked over to the counter, carrying an armload of tools. He stood behind Steve, waiting for his turn.
Mimi looked up and saw the man. Her face paled and she looked over at Steve. “Since I’ll have to find your order, would you mind…?” She didn’t finish her statement.
He nodded and stepped aside, glad that he wasn’t going to be rushed. It was worth the wait. Besides, while
she was busy helping the other customer, he was able to watch her without feeling too conspicuous.
Her voice was soft and kind as she greeted the other man. She looked him in the eyes when he spoke and smiled when she took the items from him to ring up on the cash register. There was something gentle yet strong about her. She was different than any other woman he had met. Usually they were shy and quiet around men, especially Englischers. The unmarried women he knew also tended to look away from men, too bashful to hold a steady gaze for long. Yes, Mimi Hostetler was different, indeed.
By the time that the man left, Steve had a new pounding inside of his chest. It had been years since he had thought about a woman and now, with Mimi standing before him, he was determined that today would change his future.
“Now,” she said, smiling and feeling more confident. “Let’s see if we can find that glass, shall we?”
“Do you need help?” he offered.
For a moment, she hesitated. Once again, he wondered if he had been wrong. Had he misread everything? Why didn’t she respond? But he kept her gaze and waited patiently for her to mull over his question. Finally, she nodded. “That would be right gut, Steve Fisher . Normally we don’t let customers into the storeroom but I sure would hate to break that heavy glass.”
He doubted that she couldn’t carry the glass herself but appreciated the humility of her response. Walking around the counter, he followed her into the back room. She was shorter than he was, almost by six inches. And her frame was narrow and petite. Yet, there was something about her that spoke of both physical and spiritual strength.
“I do believe the glass is back here,” she said, pointing toward a corner. “Behind those boxes.”
He moved past her, his arm brushing against hers, as he moved in the direction that she indicated. He felt tingles throughout his body and glanced at her, ready to apologize but speechless when he saw her cheeks flush pink. She gave him a small smile then took a step back.
Carefully, he moved the boxes and stacked them in the walkway. Only then did he see the wrapped pieces of glass leaning against he wall. He felt it was strange that they would be tucked so far away, especially since he had told her that he would pick them up today. But then again, he realized, maybe she had not dug them out of the storeroom on purpose.