“What can it be?” Joanna scampered after them, hurrying around the side of the house to go in the back way. “Sticky buns, maybe?”
“Whoopie pies—chocolate ones!” tiny Susan exclaimed as all of them burst into the kitchen.
Salina gently shushed them as they entered, then greeted Joanna.
“Hullo, sister,” Joanna said, the little girls still hanging on her.
“A warm welcome, jah?” Salina fanned herself with a white hankie.
“How’s Mammi Kurtz?” Joanna asked once the children were settled at the table, swinging their bare legs beneath the blue-and-white-checkered oilcloth.
Salina set a large whoopie pie on a napkin in front of each of them. Then she motioned for Joanna to follow her to the bedroom just around the corner. There sat her grandmother in a straight-backed cane chair, head bowed and sound asleep. “She’s all tuckered out, which is understandable,” whispered Salina, leaning near.
“Can she walk without help?”
“She uses a walker okay, but she shouldn’t be alone . . . that’s why I’m here today.” Salina smiled and touched Joanna’s arm. “Would ya mind checkin’ on Dawdi for me?”
“Front room?”
“Jah, there by the screen door, to get the best breeze. He’s not too keen on sittin’ on the back porch when the children are here.”
“No doubt the commotion wears on him.” Joanna could understand that—Salina’s busy three were definitely a handful. She went to the largest room and found her grandfather sitting there, wide-awake. “You all right, Dawdi?” she asked, going over to him.
He said nothing but blinked his eyes at her, and a small smile inched past his lips.
“Okay, then.”
Going back to the bedroom, she stood in the doorway. “Dawdi looks to be just fine.”
“Gut,” Salina replied. “Never hurts to check, ya know . . . at their age.” She looked lovingly down at Mammi. “Pains me to see them suffer like this.” She sighed.
Joanna agreed. “So the family’s takin’ turns with Mammi?”
Salina nodded and moved toward the door to join Joanna. “We have it all arranged. I’ll show you the chart.”
Joanna hoped she might be called upon to help, too.
“Here ’tis.” Salina found the paper on the kitchen counter, next to the whoopie pies. “Help yourself,” she said as Joanna eyed the goodies.
“Denki, think I will.” Joanna took a bite and, oh, it was heavenly . . . melted in her mouth.
“Before I forget, Mammi mentioned how much your cards—especially your poems—meant to her in the hospital. In case she forgets to tell ya, I thought you should know.”
“That’s why I wrote them,” Joanna replied. “To bring some cheer.”
“Well, they surely did that,” Salina said. “She even read two of them to me. Saved each and every one.”
Joanna was pleased but didn’t want to let on. All this talk about her writing here lately had her unnerved.
The children were giggling and becoming rambunctious now.
“Too much sugar,” Salina was quick to say.
As much as their silliness seemed to annoy Salina, it had the opposite effect on Joanna. Watching them act up, poking one another and bursting into laughter, made her yearn even more for children of her own one day. “How ’bout I get them washed up and take them out to see the new calves? Leave ya be with Mammi for a while?”
Salina looked relieved. “You’re a lifesaver, Joanna.”
“Not to worry.” She set to work wiping off each little set of hands before permitting them to leave the table.
Salina picked up a basket of mending, then headed back to Mammi Kurtz.
———
They had been observing the new calves for a good twenty minutes or so when Stephen said, “I’m awful hungry, Aendi Joanna.”
“Didn’t ya just have a snack?” She smiled down at him, ruffling his flaxen hair.
“Can’t remember,” he said, straight-faced.
“He’s always hungry,” Sylvia piped up from where she was crouched near the smallest calf.
Spoken like a little sister! Joanna got a kick out of the interaction between those two. “Is he, now?” she asked.
“Oh, jah.” Sylvia dramatically nodded her head up and down.
“I’m hungry, too,” little Susan said, blinking her blue eyes at Joanna.
“I know!” Stephen announced. “Let’s get some milk from the cooler.”
Joanna agreed, thinking that would stall the children from returning to the house just yet. Salina had looked tired, like she might enjoy a bit more time alone with their grandparents. Joanna, too, was eager for a visit with her grandmother, but that could wait if necessary.
While they were in the milk house, Stephen gulped down a full glass of the fresh raw milk. Then, looking at her with a white moustache, he asked, “Will you tell us a story, Aendi?”
She began to protest. “I’m not a storyteller like Rebecca Lapp or . . .” She stopped before saying Jake Lantz’s name.
“I heard ya were.” Stephen was frowning.
“Well, now, who’s sayin’ that?”
“The deacon’s wife,” Stephen said, standing on tiptoes now as he held his empty glass up for more milk. “Heard her tell Grandmammi Mast so.”
Joanna found this ever so curious. So much for that!
“So will ya tell us a story?” he pleaded.
She guessed it would be all right, especially if she told a Bible story. What could that hurt?
Eben had already spent too much time at the harness shop, overhearing his neighbor Micah Hershberger talk enthusiastically about a group of older folk from their community who were thinking of buying up a row of condos in Virginia Beach.
Where I met Joanna, thought Eben.
“When’s this?” he asked, though he needed to get back to the farm. Still, Eben was mighty curious.
“Oh, in the next month or so,” Levi, the harness shopkeeper, replied.
“’Least before wedding season, anyways,” another neighbor, Elias Schrock, remarked.
At this, Micah shook his head. “Seems there must be quite a few condos available right now . . . same thing’s goin’ on in Florida.”
“The housing market’s in a heap of hurt,” Eben offered.
“Might be the ideal time to snatch up some property, then,” Micah said with a tug on his peppery beard.
Levi nodded. “Wouldn’t wait too long to seal the deal, either. Not if you’re serious.”
“Well, these folks certainly are,” Micah said.
Eben wondered just who he was talking about. He hadn’t heard anyone mention this. “Well, my Daed’s goin’ to think I’m playin’ hooky,” he said, then moseyed toward the door.
“Say, I heard Leroy got married,” said Levi, following him.
“That he did.”
“So the world got him, then?”
Eben nodded. “Sorry to say.”
“Well, now, I’ll bet you are.” Levi gave him a sympathetic smile. “Word has it you had someone mighty special over in Lancaster County.”
Eben wouldn’t deny it.
“So is she comin’ out here sooner or later . . . or is that all over now?” Levi was known to pry, and he was doing a mighty fine job of it.
It wouldn’t do any good to explain the problem. Besides, it wasn’t Levi’s place to ask. Eben shrugged off the question. “Best be headin’ on home.”
“Tell your Daed hullo for me, ya hear?” Levi called, turning to greet the man who’d just entered the shop.
“I’ll do that.” Eben closed the door behind him and made his way to the horse and carriage parked behind the shop. He looked to the east, wondering what Joanna was up to this hot summer day. Were they having a Preaching Sunday this weekend? Was she going to Singings yet again?
Eben untied his horse, then hopped into the enclosed black buggy and backed out of the spot. All the way home, he smelled the fragrance of honeysuckle and wondered if
he’d been right about Jake Lantz’s seeming admiration for Joanna. And if so, had Jake made a move to court her? The questions in his head continued until he saw Ada Kemp and her mother in another buggy, coming this way. Ada leaned forward suddenly when she caught his eye, smiling and waving at him. He was polite and gave a slow wave of his own. After their first and only date, he’d taken two other girls out, and knowing how fast the grapevine was, Ada most likely had heard about it.
Eben wasn’t interested in leaving a long line of spurned women. But the truth was, none of them compared with Joanna . . . not a one. Maybe he just needed to continue his search. For sure and for certain, he needed someone to fill up Joanna’s place in his heart.
I have no other choice.
Chapter 32
Joanna was very sure Salina’s threesome had grown taller just in the space of two days. Mamma often said children grew faster in the summer months—“like weeds”—and looking at her nieces and nephew, Joanna couldn’t help but agree.
Strolling about the backyard between the time Preaching service ended and the shared meal began, Joanna enjoyed the shade from several tall trees. She spied Salina and a couple other young mothers with their youngsters and went over to talk to them. Joanna’s nephew Stephen was on the verge of being grouped with other boys his age—first graders come this fall. For now, though, he still played with his little sisters and young cousins, chasing them around the tree trunks and teasing the girls, some of whom were playing with their little white handkerchief dollies.
Joanna noticed Cora Jane on the other side of the yard with a few teenage girls, including Mattie Beiler’s granddaughters Martha, Julia, and Susie. Martha and Julia looked at Jake Lantz and his younger brother, Jesse, with disdain when the guys walked by with a handful of other courting-age young men. Joanna wondered if Susie and Julia had perhaps been two of the girls who’d complained about Jake’s forwardness. Would he behave differently now, were he to go riding with either of them?
Over on the long back porch, Mary Beiler crept alongside her elderly grandfather Abram Stoltzfus, searching for a chair for him. Bless their hearts. Joanna watched them tenderly, missing her own grandparents today. Dawdi Joseph hadn’t felt well enough to attend, so Mammi Sadie had stayed home with him. And of course her Kurtz grandparents hadn’t come, either, and probably wouldn’t until Mammi was more sure of herself with her walker. Dawdi Kurtz refused to leave her, even though someone was there caring for her—he’d missed her terribly while she was in the hospital. Joanna wondered what Bishop John thought of that. Did he ever send the preachers out to talk to elderly and infirm members about missing church?
“You’re deep in thought, ain’t?” Salina leaned to whisper to Joanna.
“Guess I am . . . sorry.”
“Couldn’t help but notice you and Cora Jane sitting far apart during church today,” Salina said, moving closer to Joanna beneath the shade tree to talk more privately. “You girls still at odds?”
“It’ll pass.”
“Well, I should hope so, after all this time . . . ain’t the best example for the other young folk, ya know.”
“No, s’pose not.”
Salina frowned and made eye contact. “There is something bothering you, Joanna. I hear it in your voice.”
She didn’t want to criticize her younger sister on the Lord’s Day, especially. “Best just pray ’bout it, jah?”
“Watch and pray, Scripture says.” Salina was smiling too broadly.
“Ach, don’t be so labbich, sister.”
“Ya think I’m silly, do ya?” Salina said, rolling her eyes. “Hard not to see what’s goin’ on round us, jah?”
Joanna had never thought of her older sister as a Schnuffelbox—busybody—but today she certainly did seem to know what was going on with nearly everyone.
The two of them laughed softly, and then Salina really cut loose, which made Joanna laugh even harder. Laughter felt good; she couldn’t deny it. And she knew it was wrong to harbor bitterness toward Cora Jane . . . or anyone.
Eben willingly helped his older brothers construct the temporary tables for the common Sunday meal at their father’s house, using three wooden church benches for each table. First, they placed the benches side by side, then raised them using a hidden trestle. The very moment each table was put together, the womenfolk began setting down plates and drinking glasses.
When the tables were in place, Eben spotted Daed come inside and remove his straw hat out of reverence. His eyebrows rose when he caught Eben’s eye. He came right over and patted him on the back, saying nary a word. It was Daed’s way of expressing gratitude. And it was still interesting to Eben that nearly the minute Leroy and his wife left for their own home, Daed’s demeanor had returned to normal. Although it was clear his parents were pained through to the heart over Leroy’s decision to leave the Amish life for good. Daed wore the regret on his face every waking hour.
To think Leroy’s offspring will never experience the Plain life . . . never be taught the Old Ways. Eben couldn’t begin to imagine that.
“Have ya heard ’bout the birthday doin’s for the bishop’s wife next month?” Salina asked Joanna.
“Didn’t know. Does Mamma?”
“I think so. Everyone’s talking ’bout it.”
Everyone? Once again, Salina was in the know. “Where and when will it be held?”
“At Bishop John’s—on August eighteenth. A Saturday.”
“Must not be a surprise party, then.”
“Oh, believe me, it was supposed to be.” Salina smiled. “But the cat managed to get out of the bag.”
Joanna understood. “Must be a special birthday, ain’t?” She’d lost track, since birthdays weren’t celebrated all too often, particularly not too fancy-like.
“Mary’s turnin’ twenty-five.”
My age, thought Joanna with a shock, watching young Stephen pull on Sylvia’s apron strings. How could she have forgotten?
A light breeze swept over the lawn, rustling leaves above her head, letting dappled light through. A squirrel scampered to the highest branch and daringly pattered out to nearly the end of the limb. Joanna enjoyed watching the little animals and thought suddenly of Eben, who’d once written about caring for a wounded squirrel when he was a boy.
Oh, Eben . . .
Would he forever be just on the edge of her thoughts? He had been such a huge part of her life for too long to expect that she was over him. No, she couldn’t fool herself into thinking she was fine, because she was far from it.
“Before I forget, can ya help Mammi Kurtz this Tuesday for a few hours—get the noon meal started and whatnot?” asked Salina, bringing Joanna out of her reverie. “She’s already doin’ so much better since returning home.”
“Sure . . . I’d like that.”
“All right, then, I’ll let Fannie know. She has to run an errand for the deacon’s wife.”
Joanna perked up her ears. Fannie Kurtz rarely interacted with Sallie, the deacon’s shy wife. “What’s Dawdi doin’ to keep himself busy?”
“Hovering, mostly, like a worried old hen.”
“Aw, so sweet, jah?”
Salina nodded. “Still lovebirds after all these years.”
Lovebirds . . . The word whirled in her head. Will I ever know that kind of love?
The noontime siren sounded in the distance, reminding Eben that along with the sun’s progress across the sky each day—and the occasional pocket watch—there was more than one way to tell the time on Peaceful Acres Lane this Lord’s Day. He’d heard, though, that the siren wasn’t always prompt—sometimes it was early, depending on the fellow who was in charge of pulling the lanyard. Eben grinned at the very notion as he stood over near the woodshed with other young men his age, waiting till the first seating of ministerial brethren and older couples had an opportunity to eat the light meal inside.
It was such a beastly hot day, Eben wondered why they hadn’t set up the tables on the lawn, like two weeks ago when chu
rch was held at his uncle Isaac’s place, just a mile up the road.
Eben stood with hands clasped behind him, like several of the more pious young men did, determined not to let hunger pangs get the best of them on the Lord’s Day. He listened as Cousin Chester talked about having just landed a job on the west side of Elkhart, doing some welding work. But it wasn’t hard to notice the faltering way Chester was describing this sudden change of work. It was almost like he was leaving the area.
Then Eben began to piece things together. Anyone would have to be blind not to have seen Emma Miller’s swollen eyes earlier as she waited in line for the service with her mother and younger sisters. Had Chester broken up with his longtime girlfriend? Eben observed his cousin gesturing with his big hands, apparently overcompensating as he told about the “wunnerbaar-gut job” he’d landed.
Eben felt downright sorry for him, and for poor Emma, too, knowing something of what they were going through. If he was correct about their circumstances.
Emma Miller was an attractive girl and awfully nice, but Chester had gotten to her first, years ago, preventing Eben from pursuing her himself. But now . . .
His head was spinning with what to do. How long should he wait for Emma to get over Chester? Eben had his own reasons for not rushing into something serious. It hadn’t been long since he’d hoped to make Joanna his bride.
Even so, he hoped Emma might be at the Singing tonight, although he seriously doubted it. Girls tend to wait awhile, he thought and wondered how long before Emma might go out again . . . or was she so upset with Chester that it didn’t matter?
Chapter 33
After the Singing in Andy King’s big barn, Joanna discreetly slipped out with Jake to his courting carriage. He set her at ease at once by sharing a funny anecdote about what a sound sleeper his brother Jesse was, even during an afternoon nap. He insisted that Jesse could sleep through thunder and lightning, and even a tornado. Jake described the scene, just today, prior to coming to Singing—how he’d shaken Jesse and hollered at him, finally resorting to pulling him across the floor by one leg. At last, Jesse woke up. “What’re ya doin’ to me, Bruder?” he’d yelled. “Couldn’t ya see I was sleepin’?”
The Bridesmaid Page 17