by Marta Perry
“Not yet,” Susanna said quickly. She felt a flicker of panic at the thought of meeting these strangers who seemed to know more about her than she knew herself. Her response had to hurt Lydia, and Susanna hated that it was so.
Daniel and David ran up to the picnic table, interrupting them before she could say anything else that would cause discomfort.
“Emma is putting the sugar and spices in, Mammi. Is it ready yet?” Daniel looked up at his mother, his blue eyes solemn.
“It has to cook awhile longer. Be patient.”
“I hate to be patient,” David said, pouting a little.
Lydia touched their small faces lovingly. “Good things take time,” she said. “We can’t rush them.”
The words resonated in Susanna’s mind. If Lydia really felt that way, it should make it easier to move slowly. The problem was that she was beginning to feel too much at home here.
“Emma Miller is a gut friend, ain’t so?” she said, trying to change the subject.
Lydia nodded, giving in with a smile. “We’ve been neighbors since we moved here when we were first married. Before that, another relative took care of the place. And before that even, our birth parents lived here. Emma was a gut friend to Diane. She helped her adjust to life here, I think.”
“It must have been wonderful hard for her.” For the first time, Susanna found herself thinking of her birth mother as a young mother struggling to adapt to Amish ways. “Just the language alone would be challenging.”
Lydia nodded. “Emma says she was wonderful quick at learning Pennsylvania Dutch, though. And she taught Diane how to do a lot of things, living so close. She says they used to have a laugh over it when the jelly didn’t gel or the biscuits didn’t rise.”
“Diane must have been lighthearted.” Mamm would be more likely to weep if something didn’t turn out right, it seemed to Susanna. She’d always been so intent on making everything perfect.
“From all I’ve been able to find out, she was a happy person. Apparently she had a time of depression after Chloe was born, but that happens to some women.”
The mention of depression had Susanna watching Jessie, who was taking a turn stirring the apple butter. “Chloe said something about Jessie having problems that way.”
“Jessie’s difficulties are much more serious than what our birth mother had.” Lydia shook her head slightly. “I’ve seen her at her worst, and it was frightening. The doctors call it bipolar disorder and some other things I don’t remember. It worries poor Emma half to death sometimes.”
“Is that why Seth came back?” Of course, he might be hanging around because of Chloe. Anyone could see they were crazy about each other. Anyone but the two of them, it seemed to Susanna.
Lydia nodded, her face troubled. “I finally had to speak to the bishop about some things I’d seen Jessie doing, and he sent for Seth, since Emma was in rehab for her broken hip then. I hated doing it. It seems so wrong, to speak to the bishop about a neighbor.”
Susanna touched her hand in an instinctive gesture of comfort. “It sounds as if you did her good in the long run. That’s the important thing.”
“I guess.” Lydia smiled slightly. “That’s what I pray, anyway. I know Emma worries about what is to become of her. It doesn’t seem likely she’ll marry.”
Probably not. Lydia couldn’t know that she’d struck a blow at Susanna’s heart. She would probably never marry, either. Never have a man look at her in the cherishing way Adam looked at Lydia, never laugh at the antics of her kinder, never feel a new baby growing beneath her heart.
“I think we have time before the apple butter is ready to can,” Lydia said suddenly. “There’s something I want to show you. Will you come to the porch for a moment?”
Susanna nodded, just as glad to be diverted from the path her thoughts had taken. But once they reached the back porch and settled into the two rocking chairs, she noticed something. The others were rather obviously ignoring them. This was not as accidental as it seemed. She felt herself freeze up inside. They had been talking about her—planning something about her.
“Please don’t think we were plotting.” Lydia seemed to read her thoughts in her expression. She touched the miniature dower chest that sat on the table between them. “I told the others that I wanted to show you this, that’s all. They’re giving me an opportunity.”
“I see.” Was that supposed to make her feel better? Still, whatever Lydia planned, she knew Lydia’s intentions were good.
“My mamm gave me the little box after I found out the truth about my parents.” Lydia’s lips pressed together. “It was difficult, knowing they’d held the truth back from me all those years. In some ways I’m still struggling with it.”
“I guess you would be.” She softened. Lydia hadn’t asked to have her life turned upside down with this knowledge any more than she had. “What does the box mean?”
Lydia’s fingers caressed the lid. “Our father made this for me when I was a little girl. After the accident, Mamm put some things in it that she thought I might want someday.” She smiled wryly. “And then she couldn’t give it to me, because she’d agreed to keep the secret.”
“Secrets can be harmful,” Susanna said slowly, thinking of the things Nate had let slip. He held more secrets, she felt sure of it, and they seemed to be pressing on him, as if they needed to be spoken.
“Ja, they can. Even when people have the best intentions.” Lydia lifted the lid of the box. “I have shown this to Chloe, and we both felt you should see it as well.” She lifted items out, one at a time, and set them on the table.
“We can’t know what this was from,” she said, opening a folded paper to disclose a dried flower, so fragile a breath would disintegrate it. “I like to think it was a memory of their love.”
Susanna didn’t remember them. She couldn’t think of them as her parents. Even so, tears prickled behind her eyelids at the sight.
“They didn’t have very long together,” Susanna said softly.
“Seven years.” Lydia folded the paper back over the flower. “But they were happy years, from everything we know. It’s harder for Chloe to understand the joy of Plain life, growing up Englisch as she did. But you know.”
Lydia was right. She did. There was joy each day in the assurance you were living the way the Lord wanted. That you were in the place He had prepared for you.
“This is a journal our mother wrote in. Not every day, but it seems she did when she had something special she wanted to record.” Lydia paused. “There is something toward the end that troubled me, when she said she feared she’d made a mistake in becoming Amish. I wrote to a woman in Ohio who had been her friend, and I’ve put her answer in the journal for you to read.”
She didn’t wait for a response, but just left the fat leather book in front of Susanna on the table.
Maybe it would have been natural to reach out and take the book, but she couldn’t. She didn’t think she wanted to gaze that deeply into the heart and mind of the stranger who had been her mother.
“Mammi, Mammi!” David darted away from his father’s restraining hand. “The apple butter is ready.”
“In a minute, David.” Lydia smiled at Susanna. “Please, take the book with you. Then you can decide if you want to read it or not. It’s as much yours as it is mine and Chloe’s.”
Susanna pressed her lips together. She seemed to stand on the brink. One part of her longed to turn away, to retreat to the safe world in which she knew everything there was to know about herself.
But could she do so? Every day seemed to bring new challenges. Her life was changing at an alarming rate, and nothing she did would stop it.
If she read the journal, maybe she would begin to understand how she’d come to this place. With the sense of stepping off a cliff, Susanna nodded and picked up the book.
* * *
Sat
urday
afternoons were always busy in the store, but this was the most hectic Nate had seen in some time. In addition to the shoppers, volunteers moved in and out, checking on assignments. Susanna had made some changes to the boards, so that they now showed how many people had gone to each area and when, making it easier to see where help was most needed.
Thomas passed him, staggering a little under the weight of the cartons of canned goods he was carrying. Nate lifted off the top two boxes and shifted them to the floor in front of the rapidly emptying shelves.
“Denke.” The tips of Thomas’s ears, visible through his corn-silk hair, reddened, a sure sign the boy was embarrassed. “Anna Mae wanted the shelves refilled right away.”
“You’re doing fine work, Thomas.” The boy was well intentioned, even when he made mistakes, and he was shaping up well. “No need to rush.”
Thomas grinned. “That’s what Susanna keeps telling me. She says hurrying just gets us rattled.”
“Susanna’s a wise woman,” Nate said. He realized he was scanning the store for Susanna’s slim form and pulled himself up short.
Susanna was having a well-earned afternoon off with her family. And no matter how indispensable she’d begun to seem in the present crisis, he should not be spending so much time thinking about her.
Nate glanced at the clock above the door. Nearly noon, and Mamm would be waiting lunch for him. “I’m going to the house for lunch. Thomas, you take charge while I’m out.”
Nate’s eye caught a flash of resentment on Anna Mae’s face, and she flounced away from the counter, heading toward him. Unfortunately the girl had begun to have an inflated image of her ability.
He was going to have to talk to her, but not just now. Quickly, before she could reach him, he went out the side door and headed across the parking lot.
That incident with the Englischer who’d tried to make money off the suffering of others had shown Anna Mae’s immaturity. All she’d seen was a big sale. It had taken Susanna to realize something was wrong.
Nate gritted his teeth and reminded himself that he shouldn’t think so much about Susanna. For an unmarried man and woman their ages, there could be only one result of growing closer, and marriage was out of the question for him.
Marriage could be fine for the right people. His sisters were happy, as were many of his friends. But he couldn’t think of it without hearing Mary Ann telling him she was leaving. Or without thinking of his mother, working herself half to death because his father couldn’t be bothered to take on a man’s responsibility.
Still, Susanna persisted in intruding into his thoughts. It was amazing that he’d once barely noticed her.
He opened the door to the smell of roasting chicken. Mamm turned from setting a platter on the table to smile at him.
“Gut. I saw you coming and got the meat up.”
He moved to the sink to wash. “Mamm, you don’t need to make such a big meal every day.”
“What else do I have to do, since I can’t get into the shop?” Mamm spooned mashed potatoes into a bowl.
He definitely didn’t want to get into a discussion of the gift shop with Mamm, not until he’d figured out the best course of action.
“Lots of new volunteers showed up today, maybe because it’s Saturday.” He sat down, knowing she’d resent it if he tried to help her. “A whole van load of Mennonites came all the way from Ohio. They’re going to stay and work for a week.”
“That’s wonderful fine news.” Mamm, apparently satisfied that she had everything on the table, sat down. “We’ll have to be sure there’s plenty of food for all of them.”
Nate bowed his head for the silent prayer. When he’d finished, she passed the platter of chicken.
“What about the shop?” she said, as if continuing a conversation they’d already started. “When can we start work on it?”
He forked off a piece of chicken, trying without success to think of a way to divert her. “Not yet,” he said. “I need a little more time to see what all has to be done.” And to decide if it was worth repairing at all.
“I don’t see what the holdup is.” His mother’s tone was fretful. “We’re losing money all the time we’re closed.”
“I don’t think anyone in Oyersburg is shopping for gifts right now,” he pointed out. “They’re too busy taking care of things like food and water.”
“You’re right.” A look of compassion filled her face. “So many are in need. I shouldn’t be selfish.”
“You’re never selfish, Mamm. I wasn’t meaning such a thing. But it’s better to take a little more time now than to jump in and regret it later, ain’t so?”
“I suppose. As long as we’re open by the time folks start thinking of Christmas gifts. We were already talking about our displays. Now we’ll have to start over.”
Nate frowned down at his potatoes and gravy. “You know, Mamm, maybe it’s time you were thinking of giving up the shop, after everything that’s happened.”
“Give it up?” His mother’s lips pressed together for a moment. “Nathaniel, you brought that idea up once before, and I told you what I thought of it. I understand you were scared when I had that problem with my blood pressure, but that’s all taken care of now.”
“You can’t be sure—”
“Nonsense. If I can spend six hours straight cooking food for the shelter, I can certain-sure work in the shop.”
He looked at her heightened color and knew he’d have to move carefully. “I’m not saying you can’t do whatever you feel able to. I’m just saying that maybe the flood is a sign that it’s time you took it a little easier.”
His mother gave him a look of sheer exasperation. “If you think the Lord would send a flood just to convince me to do what you think is best, you’re just plain ferhoodled.”
Nate reached across the table to clasp her hand. “I just want to take care of you, Mamm.”
“You think I don’t know it?” Her voice softened, and she smiled, her face crinkling. “Nate, Nate, you’re always trying to take care of everyone, whether they need it or not.”
His chest seemed to tighten. “I had to, didn’t I?”
“Ja, you did.” Pain flickered in her faded blue eyes. “We won’t talk about your daad, ain’t so? But your sisters are grown and married now, and your brother and his family are settled on the farm. It’s time you thought about your own happiness.”
The unexpected turn left him speechless for a moment. “I’m happy enough already.”
“Your life is devoted to that store, if you call that happiness.” She held his gaze. “Just like Susanna and the shop.”
“That’s foolishness,” he said shortly. Wasn’t it? “We weren’t talking about me. We were talking about the shop and what’s to become of it.” He took a breath and leaped. “I’m thinking maybe it’s not worth it to try and fix up the building.”
His mother just stared at him for a long moment, seeming to consider and discard a number of things she might say. “What would you do with it, if not fix it up? You can’t leave it the way it is.”
“No, but I might sell.”
“You can’t sell it unless it’s cleaned up, at least,” she countered.
He hated to admit it, but she was right. “There’s a difference between cleaning up from the flood and getting the building ready to open as a gift shop again. Mamm, you don’t understand—”
“I understand that you own the building,” his mother said flatly. “If you choose to kick your own mother out, I suppose you can.”
“I’m not talking about doing any such thing, and you know it.” Trying to reason with his mother was like talking to the wall when she was in a stubborn mood.
“Sounds like it to me,” she said. “Well, if you won’t get in there and help Susanna get the place cleaned up, I guess that means I’ll be doing it.”
<
br /> “You can’t.”
She smiled, not speaking, but he knew what that smile meant.
“All right,” he said finally, snapping his fork down on the table. “If you agree to stay away, I’ll help Susanna get the place cleaned up. But I’m not making any promises about what happens afterward.”
“Denke, Nate. That’s what I wanted to hear.” His mother turned placidly back to her food.
He suspected he’d been outmaneuvered, and he wasn’t even sure how it had happened. But one thing was clear. It was going to be awfully hard not to think of Susanna when he was seeing her every day and every night.
* * *
By
Monday, Seth had moved from Dave and Emily Hartman’s place back to his own apartment, since most of the roads and bridges were opened. He’d been trying to catch up on the work the company paid him for, but he found it difficult to concentrate when there was so much else crying out to be done.
Seth glanced across the front seat of his car. Jessie sat still, her hands clasped in her lap. This would be her first day of helping with flood relief. She’d been unusually quiet all the way to Oyersburg.
“Are you a bit nervous about doing this?”
Jessie stared at her hands and began pleating and unpleating her skirt. Finally she fixed her gaze on his face. “What if I don’t know what to do?”
His heart hurt at the insecurity in her voice. “I think you’ll be fine. And if you’re not sure what to do, there will always be someone to ask.”
“Who?”
“I’ll be there. Or Susanna. Or Chloe. That makes it okay, doesn’t it?”
Her smile flickered, and her hands stopped their restless movement. “Okay.” She eyed him. “Now you tell me what’s worrying you.”
“Nothing.” He said it too fast, his voice too casual.
She didn’t speak, and he glanced away from the road long enough to see her face. Her expression spoke volumes for her. If he had the right to ask how she was, then he owed her the same level of honesty in return.