by Leslie Gould
Bea swiped at her tears.
“Enough of that now,” I said. “Pull yourself together and go help Mamm.”
Beatrice leaned back, away from me. “Don’t be so bossy,” she said.
“We have a porch full of men to serve a snack to.” And I didn’t want to be the one to offer Phillip a glass of lemonade.
“You were bossy enough before Dat died, but now you’re nearly intolerable.”
I stood. “Bea, I—”
“You always have to be in charge,” she said without looking at me as she refolded the shirt and put it back in the box.
“Well, jah,” I said. “Someone has to be.”
She rose to her knees and looked out the window, toward the barn and greenhouse, and then sniffled again. She was sensitive, even more than usual since Dat died. And with good reason. She’d lost her father, and now she was afraid of losing her childhood home.
I stood and followed her to the window. “Nothing’s going to happen to the farm. This is our place. This is where we’re going to stay.” I could only hope my words were true.
Chapter
2
I placed a large bucket of snapdragons in front of my table at the market, and then arranged smaller buckets of lavender, rosemary, and lemon thyme around it.
At the beginning Dat had opposed the Youngie farmers’ market, saying he didn’t think it would bring in much money, but he allowed me to give it a try. It wasn’t long until he supported my efforts completely, although he never did get used to the traffic and crowds on market day. Neither did Mamm and Beatrice.
But I loved it.
I was in my element, meaning combining the two things I enjoyed most—flowers and people.
Nell Yoder, who was my friend Hannah’s aunt and sharing my booth, stepped to my side. “Oh, look at those snapdragons,” she said. She pointed to one of her potholders, made from a red-and-yellow print, and then pointed at my blooms, saying, “They match.”
That made me smile. She had to be in her early forties or so but she seemed younger, maybe because she’d never had the stress of having her own family. “Those blooms won’t last once the weather turns hot though,” she added.
“Jah,” I said. “That’s why I need to sell as many as possible this morning.”
She lowered her voice. “It’s nice to have Jonathan and Addie back with us.” The two stood at his booth, talking with an Englisch couple.
I nodded. Addie was Nell’s niece, along with being Hannah’s cousin. She and Jonathan had been selling at markets far more upscale than mine, as far away as Maryland. I was thankful they’d booked with me for our opening day, but next week they’d be off somewhere else.
I headed toward Jonathan’s booth. Several Englisch people were examining his woodwork—mantels, hope chests, and bookcases, along with smaller items, including trivets and bookends.
Addie waved to me, and I said hello and picked up a trivet with a daisy carved on the top. If I had any extra money, I’d buy it for Mamm. I put it back down. “Where will you two be next Saturday?” I asked Addie.
“New Jersey,” she answered. “It’s an especially busy market.”
I’d heard that.
Addie stepped closer to me and said, quietly, “I heard Phillip is courting Jessie Berg.”
I nodded as a lump lodged in my throat. I didn’t want to talk about Phillip Eicher, not even with Addie.
“Are you okay with that?”
“Of course,” I managed to squeak. Addie and Phillip had courted before she fell for Jonathan. Phillip had been hurt and still talked about being jilted by Addie when he and I briefly courted. He more than talked, actually. He obsessed.
Addie shielded her eyes from the sun. “You and Phillip came to an understanding, then?”
I nodded.
She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling around the corners. “Oh good. Because I truly think that’s what’s best for you,” Addie said.
I tilted my head, wondering what she meant.
When she didn’t elaborate I asked, “How’s that?”
She stepped even closer. She really wasn’t one to gossip, not like her Aenti Nell, so I knew to listen to what she said. “Phillip, at least when he courted me, mostly cared about himself. I was worried about you.”
Nell’s shrill voice interrupted us. “Molly!”
She stood in front of our booth, waving at me and pointing to an Englisch woman who was holding a large bunch of snapdragons in her hands.
I turned back to Addie. “Customer. Gotta go,” I said as I stepped backward, away from her. “Denki for your concern.” I waved as I spun around and hurried back down to my booth, thankful to have escaped any further discussion of Phillip Eicher. He had been self-absorbed when we’d been seeing each other, but I’d thought it was due to the fact that Addie had hurt him so badly, that he was still licking his wounds—and his pride.
After I took the Englisch woman’s money and she’d headed toward Jonathan’s hope chests, a movement on the knoll caught my attention. Beatrice, with Love by her side, was unpinning the wash from the clothesline, her image framed by our white house directly behind her.
I’d asked her just that morning to leave it up until at least noon.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Nell.
I grabbed the hem of my dress, lifted it to my knees, and began jogging through the back of the pasture and then up the slope toward the yard. “Bea,” I called out.
She turned toward me, squinting. Love did too, although her brown eyes lit up and her tongue fell out of her mouth.
“What are you doing?”
“The laundry.”
“I told you to leave it. Remember?”
She turned her back to me, reaching back up to the line, plucking another wooden pin. “I’m not waiting to do my chores to please the Englisch.”
“But they like looking at our wash.”
She’d made a face and said, “Which is exactly why I want to get it down.” She could be awfully black and white in her thinking.
I used my kindest tone and said, “Just leave it for a few more hours. Please.”
She spoke around the pin in her mouth. “It’s already nine. The morning is half gone.” She held another pin in one hand and Mamm’s dress in the other.
“Just another hour.” I stepped closer to her. “It might help save the farm.”
That was a stretch on my part, but it seemed to give Beatrice pause.
“Instead, could you help Mervin cut more flowers before it gets too hot?”
She held up the dress, as if asking what to do with it.
I nodded toward the line.
Instead of obeying, she tossed it at me, followed by one pin. Then the other. Both of which I managed to catch. And then off she marched toward the flower field. Love turned and gave me a sorrowful look. She hated it when any of us had a spat. “Go with her,” I said. Love wasn’t allowed down at the market.
The dog took off at a run and in a minute was far ahead of Beatrice, dashing toward Mervin.
I repinned the dress. Beatrice had been all over the map as far as her emotions since Dat had died. Yesterday she’d been tearful. Today she seemed angry. I couldn’t blame her. My emotions had been off-kilter too.
I took a step backward, taking in the clothesline. Our laundry was a sure sign that the farmers’ market below was authentically Amish, but I couldn’t help but mourn that Dat’s shirts weren’t flying alongside our dresses.
I sighed, encouraging myself to look on the bright side. Dat had lived a long life, and we still had our memories of him and our time together.
Dat had always complimented me on my optimism. He used to call me Sunny, both for my disposition and blond hair when I was young. I wasn’t going to let him down now.
I headed back down the path, taking in the sight below me. Thirty booths filled the front part of the pasture. Cars filled the makeshift parking lot, along with the buggies. Below, a mix of Englisch and Plain people ambl
ed down the aisles between the booths. Besides Jonathan’s woodwork and my flowers and herbs, the vendors sold quilts, potholders, yard art, soaps, candles, preserves, produce, and ready-to-eat food.
The savory scent of sausage grilling wafted up the slope toward me as I navigated the path.
“Molly!”
Startled, I stopped, my white tennis shoes stirring up a mini cloud of dirt, and turned toward the voice.
Mervin bobbled toward me, across our lawn, a bucket of sweet peas in each hand. Water sloshed over the edge of one onto his boot. He jerked his foot away and kept on coming. Even though it was still morning he had his aviator sunglasses on while his straw hat rode back on his head.
“Wait,” he called out.
“I need to get back,” I answered, turning to go.
“Take these,” he said. “And I’ll go back for the herbs.”
Reluctantly I agreed, hurrying back up the trail and then balancing the buckets as best I could, but still water sloshed over the side onto my right shoe, turning the dust to mud. I poured half the water out of each and then hurried on down the path.
When I reached my booth, Nell said I’d missed a customer. “She said she’d come back,” Nell said, settling back down into her chair and taking up a potholder she’d been quilting.
I had a spurt of sales, mostly snapdragons and herbs, but a few peonies too. They were my favorite. I turned toward the slope to the field, searching for Mervin. He was descending slowly, holding two more buckets out at arms’ length. Behind him walked my mother.
A movement on the lawn pulled my attention upward. Beatrice was back at the clothesline taking off the wash after all, folding it into the basket she had left behind. It was useless for me to plead a second time.
“Molly,” Nell said, pulling me away from spying on my sister, “I’m going to take a walk. Would you keep an eye on my things?”
I assured her I would. She stretched her plump arms and then wandered over to Joseph Koller’s booth, picking up a wooden buggy as if she might be interested in buying it. She must have complimented his work, because above his long gray beard his cheeks grew pink.
Joseph had been a widower for several years and had seemed interested in courting younger women. Nell was, at least, within a decade of him in age. I didn’t want to start any rumors, but I thought the two were sweet on each other. Nell deserved some happiness after devoting her life to Addie’s family, the Cramers, for years.
Focusing back on my herbs, I combined them into one container by the time Mervin and Mamm reached me. After Mervin lowered the new buckets, I gave him the empty ones.
But then Mamm said, “Mervin, watch the booth for a few minutes.” Then to me she said, “Come walk with me.”
“Now? Are you feeling all right?”
“There’s nothing wrong,” Mamm said. “I just want to have a chat with you.”
I followed Mamm to the end of the field, to where the creek ran between our property and the Mosiers’. The way she clipped along, I began to believe there was nothing wrong with her. Across the fence Mervin’s twin, Martin, who also wore aviator sunglasses, was dragging their pasture. He waved. I returned the gesture. Mamm smiled. She’d always been fond of the Mosier twins.
When we reached the fence, Mamm turned right and started walking the property line up the hill. “This was your Dat’s land, and his father’s, and his grandfather’s,” she said. “More than anything I want to keep it for you and Beatrice. If it’s not God’s will, I’ll accept that, but I plan to do everything I possibly can first.”
I nodded. I felt the same way.
“I don’t want what happened to Edna to happen to us,” Mamm said.
I couldn’t agree more. After the accident, Frank had been in the hospital for three months. Edna finally sold their farm—to Ivan. He kept it for a few months and then ended up selling it at a profit. Thankfully Edna had enough money, after paying the bills the church couldn’t cover, to rent a little house in Paradise. She didn’t keep a horse and buggy—she got rides to church from others in her district and hired a driver when needed. She seemed resigned to her lot. I couldn’t comprehend Ivan buying her place and so quickly selling it for his own profit, but Edna never seemed to hold it against him. And Dat made it clear it wasn’t any of my business.
Still I understood what Mamm meant. I didn’t want us to have to live on someone else’s property. Or even on our own place but someplace new, say in a house in town. I wanted to live on our farm. True, Mamm hadn’t lived here much longer than I, but it was the only home she had left. Her parents had passed away years ago, as had most of her siblings. She had no desire to return to Ohio. She loved our land nearly as much as I did.
We continued on in silence. She must have wanted someone to walk the property line with her, as if to gain courage for the challenge ahead. But by the time we neared the top of the hill, she was struggling.
Finally she slowed and, putting her hand to her chest, said, “I don’t know when I got so out of shape.”
“It’s a steep climb,” I said. “Plus it’s getting hot.”
Ahead was the flower field, where Beatrice was now working. Mamm stopped and leaned against a fence post.
“Maybe we should go over to the shade,” I said.
“This is a fine place,” she said. “No one can hear.”
“You need a glass of water,” I said. “We should go to the house.”
She shook her head. “We need to talk about our farm.” She squinted at me. “The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of you marrying Mervin.”
I stepped backward, bumping against the top rail of the fence. “Mamm.” I’d thought she was done with that nonsense.
“Now hear me out. There’s no reason for you to wait to get married as long as I did.” She’d been forty. And I agreed with her. I planned to marry within the next couple of years, God willing.
The truth was, I’d expected to be married by now. I’d always had lots of boys for friends, from my school days on. And I knew Amish young men from all over—as far away as Indiana. I’d had a few interested in me from other places, but I didn’t want to leave Lancaster County.
“You’ve known Mervin your whole life,” Mamm said. “He’s good and kind, to Beatrice and me too. He’d make a good husband. And he likes this business—I’m sure he’d expand it over to his farm too.”
I knew his parents hoped to retire soon.
Mamm smiled, her eyes lighting up. “And he’s smitten with you.”
My face grew warm. “But I don’t love him.”
“That will come.” Mamm took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “I’ve never told anyone this. Not even your father. But I didn’t love him when I married him.”
“Mamm—”
She put her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell a soul, but it’s true. I liked him, jah, and I knew he was a good man, so it wasn’t as if I took a risk. But I didn’t know him well enough to love him.”
I shook my head. “How could you marry someone you didn’t love?”
“I wanted children,” she said. “I knew I wouldn’t likely have another chance.”
I crossed my arms. “I don’t believe you didn’t love Dat.”
“That’s because I came to love him.” Tears filled her eyes. “More deeply than I ever dreamed.”
“And you think that would happen with Mervin and me?”
She nodded.
“But I’m not sure Hannah doesn’t still care for him. I’d never do that to her.”
“Ask her,” Mamm said. “Mervin said he hasn’t seen her in weeks. Perhaps she’s courting someone else already.”
I pursed my lips together. I doubted that. Maybe she wouldn’t mention she’d stopped seeing Mervin, but I certainly hoped she’d let me know if she’d started courting someone new. My stomach sank. I’d neglected her these last couple of months—and all my other friends, except for Mervin.
A concerned expression settled on Mamm’s face
. “I’m afraid maybe you’ve gotten false ideas from all your running around—expecting lightning to strike with the appearance of some sort of Mr. Right. The truth is you could probably make a future with any of the men you already know, as long as he loves the Lord.”
I wasn’t sure if that was true. “Well, I’m not a Maidel . . . yet,” I said, trying to make light of the moment.
There was no doubt I’d make a good wife and mother. There wasn’t a Youngie woman in all of Lancaster County who worked harder than I did or who was more organized. Plus I had a head for business. And I could manage a home just fine too, if I put my mind to it.
Mamm turned toward the Mosier farm. It wasn’t like her to meddle. Usually she was as mild as a barn mouse. “More than anything, I want to know that you and Beatrice are cared for. I hope Ivan would help out someday, if needed . . .”
“I’m sure he would,” I said. “And I know Edna would help.”
“Her resources are limited. . . .” She turned back toward me, her expression weary. “Think about it,” she said. “And pray.”
I nodded, swallowing hard as I did.
“I’m going to go get that drink of water.”
Mamm started toward the house but then turned back around, slowly, her eyes as serious as I’d ever seen them. “I’ve been debating whether to tell you this or not. . . . Don’t tell Beatrice . . . but Ivan did a preliminary run-through of our books and said they’re as red as”—she glanced down to the market below—“those geraniums we’re trying to sell.”
Now I struggled for breath. “Ivan knows books, right? Not business. We should get some help to turn things around. Right away—and not just from Mervin,” I said. “How about Bob Miller?” He was my friend Cate’s father and one of the most successful businessmen in the area.
“Good idea,” Mamm said. “And in the meantime, think about Mervin.” She turned back toward the house again, calling over her shoulder, “Tell Mervin to spend the rest of the day helping you with the market. Try to sell all you can. . . .” Her voice trailed off as she shuffled along. Love waited for her on the edge of the lawn.