Rosanna's Gift

by Susan Lantz Simpson

  Chapter Ten

  Despite the napkin full of cookies he’d gobbled up on the drive home, Paul didn’t have any problem polishing off his supper. Mamm’s macaroni and cheese had to be the best in the world. His silence at the table appeared to have gone unnoticed—a gut thing, for sure. Mamm had chattered so much about Becky’s twins that it would have been hard to sneak a word in anyway. He didn’t know if anyone loved bopplin as much as his mudder did, except maybe Rosanna.

  Rosanna. Now there was the real reason for his silence. She filled his thoughts so completely that talk of her would surely pour out of his mouth if he attempted to speak. His younger bruders would tease him mercilessly. One of them would be bound to utter something to a freind, who would tell a freind, who would tell a freind, until the whole community knew the secrets of his heart. It was definitely to his advantage to keep mum at the supper table. He listened, nodded from time to time to show interest, and ate.

  Alone in his room, he could give in to those thoughts. Since he was fortunate enough to have a room to himself, he could even give voice to his thoughts, if he wanted. Sometimes it helped to sort things out if he could say them aloud. Actually, nothing needed to be sorted out. The more time he spent with Rosanna, the more he liked her. Period. End of story. If she experienced the same emotions, his story would be complete.

  Paul hadn’t missed her absorption with Henry after singings. She’d done nothing wrong, of course. She’d never flirted or batted her eyes like some girls did with a fellow. From where he’d sat on a bale of hay with a few other fellows, munching on treats, he’d stolen peeks at the various couples chatting away. Rosanna usually ended up talking to Henry, though he’d never been certain who sought out whom.

  She always looked so pretty in her blue or purple dress. Her dark hair contrasted nicely with her white kapp. But it was her big chocolate drop eyes and easy smile that snatched his breath away and sent his heart rate soaring. If Rosanna looked at him the way she looked at Henry, he might melt on the spot. From his observation point, he’d never been sure if Henry’s expression mirrored Rosanna’s, but he knew they never left together. On the way home after every singing, Paul kicked himself for lacking the courage to approach Rosanna before she had the chance to gravitate toward Henry.

  If today had been any indication, though, Henry had not had his heart in any of those conversations with Rosanna. What was wrong with the guy? How could he pass up Rosanna Mast for Frannie Hostetler? He didn’t mean that in a bad way. It was simply that there couldn’t be any comparison whatsoever between the two girls. Frannie was nice enough, he supposed, but he always thought she could be rather bossy and maybe a touch nosy. If things went her way, she smiled and could be right pleasant. If they didn’t, well, a surly look crossed her face. And she really needed to get those glasses adjusted. She was forever pushing or tugging on them.

  Sure, he knew outward appearance wasn’t the most important quality, but Rosanna possessed an inner beauty to go with her outer attractiveness. She always acted sweet and polite. Even if she’d been up all night with a woman giving birth or with Mollie, her smile could still thaw an icicle.

  Could Henry’s loss be his gain? Paul hoped so. How did he go about winning Rosanna’s heart? How did he get her to consider him as more than a freind? Ach! He wished he had someone to talk to about this. He didn’t have any schweschders, and his younger bruders wouldn’t be any help at all. His older, married bruder was practically a newlywed but probably wouldn’t prove helpful, either, since he and his new fraa had known since the cradle they would eventually marry. Maybe he could ask Mamm’s advice. Nee, that would be too embarrassing.

  One thing Paul did know, though, was that he couldn’t be anything other than who he was. He worked hard at the furniture shop and on the farm. He loved Gott and his family. He loved kinner and animals. Were those qualities Rosanna held dear? He wanted to marry and have a family—and he wanted to do that with Rosanna and Mollie. Paul eased his weary body onto his bed. He needed sleep. He needed answers.

  * * *

  Rosanna settled Mollie in a little nest in the corner of the Kurtz’s big living room. The huge quilting frame occupied the center of the room. Enough chairs surrounded it for all the women, young and old, who were expected to attend the quilt frolic. They would be working hard to finish the king-sized quilt in time for the upcoming annual auction. Many items would be auctioned off, not only the quilts the women had stitched during the past year.

  The auction always drew a huge crowd and helped them raise money for their community fund. The Amish did not carry any health insurance or homeowner’s insurance or any of those things the Englischers considered necessary. When some catastrophe occurred or someone suffered a health problem requiring expensive medical care, the community pulled together to help the person or family in need. The funds raised at the auction helped out at such times.

  Women began arriving bearing bowls and baskets of food to share at the noon meal and at snack time. Since it was a weekday, many of the kinner were at school. Only the youngest ones tagged along with their mudders. They would be tended by the girls who had finished school but weren’t yet ready to join the experienced quilters. Of course, lots of stories, news, and laughter would be shared during the frolic. Rosanna had been looking forward to a fun day.

  A few other young mudders found resting places for their infants as Rosanna had done. Maybe she would fit in more with these young women rather than her usual freinden. But she didn’t have a husband and home to talk about as they did. It was entirely possible that she didn’t fit in anywhere. She tried hard not to let that thought take root in her brain and make her sad.

  Rosanna’s attention shot to a group of girls chattering and giggling in the corner. Of course, Frannie Hostetler stood in the center of the group. Her hands flew about as she spoke. Every few moments, one hand fiddled with her glasses.

  “Really?” Rosanna heard someone ask.

  “Jah. We had such a nice time. We talked ever so much. Henry is a lot of fun to be with.” Frannie’s voice rose louder than the others.

  Rosanna found it hard to imagine Henry talking “ever so much.” Pulling conversation from him, other than polite answers to questions, had been like tugging a bone away from a dog.

  “But in daylight for all the world to see?” another voice chimed in.

  Rosanna saw Frannie shrug. “We didn’t care. It isn’t like we ran into a lot of people.”

  “It only takes one person to set the grapevine atwitter.”

  “It doesn’t bother me.” Frannie giggled. She turned her head and cut her eyes to Rosanna. A smirk overtook her smile.

  She knew I was standing here. She wanted me to hear every word. Rosanna attempted a smile and nodded at Frannie. She wouldn’t give the girl the satisfaction of knowing she had been upset by the comments. She jumped when long, slender fingers clamped around her upper arm.

  “I’m so glad you came and brought Mollie.”

  Rosanna looked up into Emma’s clear blue eyes. “Hi, Emma.” She knew her response lacked enthusiasm.

  “Don’t pay her any mind,” Emma whispered. “She’s only trying to get attention. She probably never went anywhere with Henry.”

  “She did. Tobias saw them together—and so did I. She really was out riding with Henry. That part is true for sure and for certain. I don’t know about the part about Henry being a chatterbox, though.”

  Emma clapped her other hand over her mouth, but still a tiny giggle escaped. “I don’t quite see that happening, either.”

  “Who knows? Maybe with the right person, he’s totally different.”

  “And maybe Frannie prattled enough for the both of them. She usually only needs someone to listen, not to actually speak.”

  “Ach, Emma! You’re terrible!”

  “But truthful. Let’s sit over on this side, where you can keep an eye on Mollie.” Emma tugged on Rosanna’s arm and led her to a seat at the quilting frame. “Mollie is really
growing, ain’t so? You’re a natural with her.”

  “And you’re a gut freind.”

  As Rosanna and Emma took their places, other women followed suit. Rosanna breathed a sigh of relief when Frannie and her rapt listeners chose seats at the opposite end of the big quilting frame. Surely Frannie wouldn’t speak of her outing with Henry now when all the older women could hear her. Rosanna threaded her needle and plunged it into the fabric, taking small, even stitches. The log cabin wasn’t an unusual pattern, but the colors of this quilt were quite unique. It should go for a high price at the auction. Rosanna’s tension began to ease when Emma’s grossmammi began one of her stories from her growing-up years in Southern Maryland. The wizened old woman could always spin a gut yarn.

  Rosanna left her spot once to tend to Mollie, the same as the other young mudders took turns slipping away to care for their infants or youngsters. The morning flew by as first one and then another woman told a story or shared news from relatives in different parts of the country. At noon, they all stretched their fingers and backs as they rose from their positions and scurried off to set out dishes for the meal. Rosanna checked on Mollie again before joining the other young women.

  “I thought you were going to say something to her,” one girl hissed as she nudged Frannie.

  Rosanna pretended not to hear the comment and glanced around for Emma.

  “Well?” The girl issued another challenge.

  Frannie shuffled over to Rosanna, who couldn’t find any means of escape. “I’m sorry if I stole your fellow from you. I guess he wasn’t interested in being an instant daed.”

  “You couldn’t steal something I didn’t possess. Henry and I didn’t have any understanding. He was free to choose any girl he wanted.”

  “But you two talked after singings.”

  “We only talked. I talked to other people, too, buwe and girls.”

  “You talked mostly to Henry. I noticed. I’ve had my eye on Henry Zook for years.”

  “Really? Henry didn’t let on . . .” Rosanna’s voice trailed off. Henry never offered much in the way of his personal feelings anyway.

  “Jah. He didn’t seem to do much talking to you, but we sure talked a lot.”

  “I’m glad for you, Frannie.” Rosanna turned to head in another direction, any direction, as long as it was away from Frannie.

  “You know, your chances for courting may be slim to none now that you have that boppli.” She jerked her head toward the corner where Mollie was sleeping and then shoved her glasses back into place.

  “If that’s so, I’ll accept that. Mollie is my boppli. I love her as much as any other mudder loves her kinner. If a fellow wanted to court me, he’d have to be willing to take Mollie along with me. If not, then he definitely wouldn’t be the right fellow for me!”

  “Well said, dear.”

  “Ach, Mary! I didn’t hear you approach.” How much had the older woman overheard?

  “You were busy, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I wanted to tell you I’d tend to Mollie for you next time she needs something and give you a little break.”

  Rosanna smiled. “Danki, Mary. It’s so nice of you to offer.”

  “It’s also selfish.” Mary chuckled. “I love bopplin, and that one in particular.” She squeezed Rosanna’s hand. “By the way, Frannie, Rosanna is absolutely right. If a man can’t love and accept that sweet little girl, he’s definitely not gut enough for Rosanna.” Mary gave Rosanna’s hand another squeeze and hurried toward the kitchen.

  Mary’s words provided a balm to Rosanna’s wounded heart and soul, injuries inflicted by Frannie’s words. From the corner of her eye, she caught Frannie staring after Mary with her mouth agape. For once she didn’t reach for her silver-framed glasses. Rosanna bit back a smile.

  “What was that all about?” Emma looked from one woman to another.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rosanna watched Frannie snap her mouth shut and shuffle back to her freinden. She couldn’t hold a grudge against the girl, though. If Henry would rather be with Frannie, then so be it. She mentally shored up her spirits. It was certainly better to know where Henry stood before she invested any more of her time, effort, and heart into a relationship not meant to be.

  She whirled around to face the owner of the whisper at her ear. “Where were you?”

  “I had to help my mamm get some dishes down from the top shelf of the cabinet,” Emma said. “I told her to let me climb up and fetch them before everyone arrived today, but she wanted to wait to see if we needed them. Of course we needed them!”

  “So you’ve been scaling cabinets while I’ve been fending off arrows.”

  “Arrows shot by whom? Ach, wait. Let me guess. It wouldn’t be a mud-brown-haired girl with slippery silver glasses, would it?”

  Rosanna stifled a giggle. “You always make me feel better.”

  “I aim to please. It sounds like Mary Hertzler came to your rescue.”

  “She did, indeed. I don’t know how much she heard, but she certainly said some kind words.”

  “I’m sure she put Frannie in her place. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Frannie Hostetler speechless. And I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her keep her pudgy hands off her glasses for that long.”

  “Emma, you’re awful!”

  “I’m not saying a single thing that isn’t true.”

  “I don’t really think Frannie intended to be mean.” At Emma’s raised eyebrows, Rosanna elaborated. “I think she wanted me to know I should give up any hope of winning Henry’s attention.”

  “She wanted you to know some fellow finally took an interest in her.”

  “Emma!”

  Emma shrugged but didn’t apologize for her words. “You’re so nice, Rosanna. You always look for the gut in everything. My glasses aren’t so rose-colored. I tend to call things as I see them. And I see Frannie as a manipulator—not vengeful or anything, but manipulative just the same. Poor Henry probably didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Frannie does like to talk.”

  Emma rolled her big blue eyes. “That’s an understatement. You know, I never understood what you saw in Henry anyway.”

  “He’s a nice fellow.”

  “He’s nice enough, I’ll grant you that much, but he’s not right for you.”

  “Are you the expert? When did you take up matchmaking?”

  Emma burst out laughing. “I’m not any matchmaker. If I was, I wouldn’t be unattached myself.”

  “Tell me why you believe Henry is wrong for me.”

  “For one thing, if he could be so easily swayed by Frannie, he’s not very, um, intelligent.”

  Rosanna gave her freind’s arm a playful punch.

  “You need someone big and strong—which Henry definitely isn’t. You need someone who isn’t afraid to voice his feelings—which Henry doesn’t seem capable of doing. You need someone who loves Mollie as much as you do, and I don’t even know if Henry likes kinner.”

  “Whew! That’s a pretty tall order, Emma. You let me know when you find such a fellow.”

  “I will. And I hope he has a twin for me. Kumm on. Let’s get something to eat before we’re left with scraps.”

  * * *

  The afternoon passed much as the morning had with more talk, laughter, and storytelling. Rosanna mulled over Emma’s words as she pushed and pulled her needle through the quilt top, batting, and backing. Was Henry as unsuitable for her as Emma believed? As her freind had pointed out, Henry wasn’t big. He was barely taller than Rosanna. He could be strong, though. A person didn’t have to be a giant to have strength. He’d never really shared his feelings with her. They’d only had polite conversations that skimmed the surface of any serious subjects. Emma could be correct on that point. But then again, maybe she wasn’t the girl he wanted to share his feelings with. Maybe Frannie was that person. Rosanna stole a glance to the opposite end of the quilting frame, where Frannie sat with an index finger stuck in her mouth. She must have jabbed the needle into
her flesh. Rosanna jerked her eyes back to her own work. She didn’t want to share that particular experience.

  The final characteristic Emma had detailed was the most important one, and the most troubling one. Henry didn’t seem to care a whit about Mollie. In his defense, though, probably most young fellows wouldn’t give Mollie a second thought. Their thoughts would be occupied with their jobs and which girl they would ask home from a singing. They definitely would not be thinking about their prospective fraa’s infant. Frannie’s comment may prove accurate. Rosanna’s hopes of courting might be nil.

  “Psst! Where are you?” Emma nudged her arm so hard Rosanna nearly stabbed her finger with the needle she held ready to plunge through the quilt. Then she’d be sucking on her finger like Frannie. “What?”

  “I only asked you three times if you plan to attend the next singing.”

  “I’m sorry. My mind has been wandering.”

  “I think it got lost somewhere. Maybe we should go look for it.”

  Rosanna laughed and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “I called it back, smarty-pants. I don’t know if I’ll go to the singing. Maybe everyone feels like Frannie does, you know, that I don’t belong anymore.” Besides, she didn’t think she could stomach the sight of Frannie slipping out with Henry when the songs were finished.

  “Don’t pay any attention to her. I don’t think everyone feels that way at all. And I really think Frannie said that just to puff herself up.”

  “Emma!”

  “Maybe you should thank her. I’m sure she did you a favor.”

  “You’re incorrigible!”

  “Well, now you can concentrate on looking for a fellow who will be gut daed material.”

  “I think Mollie will keep me plenty busy. We’ll be fine, just the two of us. Right now, I’d better concentrate on this quilt.”

  “You can’t fool me, Rosanna Mast. I know you want a husband and a houseful of kinner just as much as I do.”