by Sarah Price
“Myrna looks happy, doesn’t she?”
Bethany pursed her lips and frowned. “Ja, I reckon so.”
“She’s awfully good to Ezekiel’s kinner, don’t you think?”
Bethany took a deep breath. Her mother didn’t have to spell out what she was thinking. Being the only child certainly presented its own share of difficulties. Now that she was older, her mother was certainly thinking about the future—and grandbabies. “She is, ja.”
“I’m so happy for Verna,” her mother continued, the sound of longing in her voice.
Bethany stood there, her back toward her mother, and shut her eyes.
“My one regret,” Mary sighed, “is not having been able to give you siblings. If only . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Bethany suspected she knew where this conversation was leading. “I’ve never complained, Maem. And it’s not your fault, anyway. It just wasn’t part of God’s plan.”
“Ja, that’s true.” Her mother craned her neck to look at her. “You’ve always been the best dochder that I could’ve asked for. If only you might settle down though.”
And there it was. Bethany pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. She never quite understood her mother. Some days, she’d declare that she hoped Bethany never married. Other days, she became teary-eyed thinking about Bethany having children. She imagined her mother’s changeable thinking had something to do with her being almost fifty years of age.
“I’d so love to have a busier haus, wouldn’t you?” Another wistful sigh. “Little ones running about. The laughter. The noise.”
Slowly, Bethany exhaled. The last thing she wanted to do was to upset her mother, so she chose her words carefully. “Maem, if I did settle down, you know that I would most likely not live here. I’d have to live with my husband. So that means the haus wouldn’t be busier, but quieter.” She forced a small smile. “Did you think about that? Would you really want me to leave the haus? To live elsewhere? I sure wouldn’t. I like living here. It’s my home.”
Slowly, Mary nodded her head. “You’re right, Bethany. But you do have to live your own life.”
“Mayhaps one day,” Bethany said softly, just to appease her mother. There was no sense in alerting her to the fact that she didn’t care if she never married or left the house. “But let’s not make it today, ja?”
Her mother laughed. “Agreed. Not today.”
Chapter Thirteen
Such a misfortune, Edna thought on Friday morning.
Just a few minutes ago, Jonas had run into the house, beckoning her to come to the barn: Abram Ropp was on the telephone. Edna had grabbed her shawl—the temperature outside had taken quite a turn recently—and hurried to the small room where Elmer kept the telephone he needed for business purposes.
“Abram,” she had breathed into the receiver as she tried to catch her breath. “How’s Mary?”
“Oh now, she’s just fine.”
“Such wunderbarr news! We were all so worried about her yesterday and last night. I’m so thankful that you called.”
“Took her to the hospital Wednesday night.”
Edna caught her breath. Why hadn’t they called and left a message?
“Seems her ankle . . . it’s fractured.” Abram paused. “She’s got a cast on.”
Edna shut her eyes and leaned back, resting her head on the wall. Why hadn’t he just said that from the beginning? She should’ve known better than to get her hopes up. It always took Abram Ropp three times as long as anyone else to get to the point of anything, especially when he was sharing important news.
“She won’t be able to help out, I’m afraid. Best if she stays off her feet for a spell.”
When Edna finally hung up the phone, she simply sat in the chair and stared at the old farm calendar that hung on the wall. She couldn’t fault Mary for the inconvenience, but it truly was unfortunate timing.
Slowly, she headed back to the house.
While Edna prayed that her friend would heal quickly, she also prayed that she’d be able to survive without Mary’s help. Perhaps one of the boys might help her serving food to the guests. Jonas always enjoyed interacting with them. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that solution wouldn’t work. He’d wind up joining them instead of actually helping her!
Sighing, she knew that she’d have to find someone else to help her over the next four weeks, but she didn’t want to be saddled with Rachel and Ella Mae.
Once inside, Edna sat at the kitchen table and reviewed her schedule. She kept everything neatly organized in a notebook with a small calendar—updated, unlike the one hanging in Elmer’s barn office—in order to keep track of upcoming reservations. Over a hundred people would be fed in her kitchen the following week, not including her own family. Had she finally bitten off more than she could chew?
Footsteps on the staircase interrupted her thoughts and she looked up to see John descending.
“You don’t look happy,” he said.
“I’m not.” But she forced a weak smile. “But God will get me through this troubled time.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just got off the phone with Abram. Seems Mary’s ankle is actually broken. A small fracture.”
John raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s not good.”
“Nee, it’s not. On many fronts.”
The conversation ended abruptly when Jeremiah and Jonas burst through the kitchen door, laughing. Her eyes traveled to where they stood, kicking off their muddy boots.
“Maem, you should’ve seen Daed,” Jeremiah laughed. “The cows broke through the fence into the back paddock. We were trying to get them back in and he slipped headfirst into the mud.”
She gave him a stern look. “That’s not something to laugh about.”
But just as she spoke, her husband walked inside. He was covered, head to toe, in mud. He stood there, his arms at his sides, and only the whites of his eyes showing through the mud.
“What on earth . . . !”
Elmer frowned. “That darn Angus cow.” He tossed his hat onto the counter. “She did it again.”
Getting to her feet, Edna hurried to fetch him a towel. “You’d best strip there—no need tracking mud all over the rest of the house—and go take a shower right away. You’ll catch your death from cold!”
Obediently, Elmer began unbuttoning his shirt. “Going to enjoy steaks when that one goes to the butcher.”
From behind her, she heard Jonas chuckle. “Seems she’ll have no fat on her, the way she likes running away from you.”
“Boys!” But even Edna couldn’t keep herself from smiling. She turned to Elmer. “That cow always has been a bit of a wanderer, wouldn’t you say?”
“Hm.” Elmer grunted as he took the towel and wiped the mud from his face. “Gonna need some boards from town. The ones we used to fix the fence won’t hold for long.”
John walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. Pulling out the pitcher of lemonade, he set it on the counter. “I can go for you, Daed. Save you the trip.”
“Danke. That would be a big help.”
Edna felt grateful for John’s offer but, admittedly, a bit irate that neither Jonas nor Jeremiah had volunteered. It was unfair that John had to drive all the way to town on his day off from the auction house, especially since he was much more partial to farming than either of his two younger brothers.
“Mayhaps Jonas or Jeremiah might go in your place?” she asked, doing her best to avoid looking at the two young men. She didn’t have to, for she knew that they were both making faces.
“It’s all right, Maem,” John said as he started to head to the door. “I need to stop at the harness store for a new trace. Mine’s about shot. I’ll take the hauling wagon for the lumber, Daed, okay?”
As John left the house, there was a collective sigh of relief from Jonas and Jeremiah. Edna frowned and gave them a sharp look. One of these days, she thought, they’ll learn that it’s more important to give
than to receive. She just hoped it was sooner rather than later, otherwise neither one of them would ever attract a good Amish woman and settle down.
Chapter Fourteen
The cast on her right foot made her leg itch but there was no way to scratch it. Even though they had given her some pain medicine, the ache in her ankle hadn’t improved. Thankfully, the following day wasn’t a church Sunday, so she wouldn’t have to go anywhere and could stay inside with her leg elevated.
“You must be one strong woman,” the doctor had said after reviewing her X-rays. “It’s indeed broken.”
“Broken!” She couldn’t believe her ears.
Beside her, Abram had made a soft noise. She looked at him and he shook his head, whether in irritation or wonder, she hadn’t quite known. Having a broken ankle would definitely create more work for both Abram and Bethany over the next few weeks.
“Fortunately, it’s just a small fracture. We’ll put a cast on it and you’ll need to stay off your feet for a few days. Nothing strenuous for several weeks,” the doctor had said.
Now, back at home, Mary felt helpless, sitting down when there was so much work to be done. And she was supposed to go to town for her weekly food shopping. She usually went on Thursdays, but the pantry was practically empty; she hadn’t gone the previous two weeks because she’d been helping Edna and then because of Thanksgiving.
Now they were out of so many things. Thankfully Verna had insisted on sending home leftovers the previous night or Mary would have no idea what to make for supper.
No, someone definitely needed to go to the grocery store and, with Abram working, the only other person who could possibly go was Bethany.
Mary shut her eyes and leaned her head back.
She hated asking Bethany to make that trip again. She’d been such a good sport about going the previous week when Mary asked. Now, because of her leg, Bethany would have to go one more time for a bigger order. Even before asking her, Mary knew that Bethany would not be happy about it, that was for sure and certain.
People always wondered about Bethany’s aversion to meeting strangers. In truth, Mary didn’t understand where her daughter’s shyness had come from or even when it had started. In hindsight, she suspected it had something to do with Abram always protecting Bethany. He was overprotective by nature, but when it came to his only child, Abram had sometimes been a bit overbearing about insulating Bethany from the outside world.
Mary suspected that, in turn, had something to do with his own upbringing.
When he was growing up, his parents had a small store, and tourists often came to buy things. As a result, Abram had been exposed to many Englischers and had become shy himself. When he began courting her, Mary found that trait endearing. After all, many of the other young men were far too boisterous and rambunctious. Abram, however, preferred the simple things in life: long walks in the park, fishing at isolated ponds . . . anything that did not involve being around a lot of people.
And, of course, there had been the car accident involving his older sister.
By the time Bethany came along, they’d suffered years of distress over miscarriages and two stillborn babies. They’d both viewed Bethany as a gift from God and treated her as though she were a fragile figurine that might shatter.
Mary wondered if they should have insisted that she interact more with other children. When she had first turned sixteen, Bethany had attended youth gatherings. But now that she was a young woman, Bethany no longer attended them. She preferred to stay home, and as far as Mary knew, she had no one she could call a true friend. Peripheral friends, perhaps, but not a real confidant.
“You feeling all right, Maem?”
At the sound of her daughter’s voice, Mary looked up and, upon seeing Bethany, smiled. With her dark hair and eyes, she always looked particularly pretty when she wore burgundy. “Ja, I’m fine. Danke, Dochder.”
“Would you like some tea?”
But Mary knew there was no tea. That was one of the items on her list.
She shook her head. “We’re out of tea.”
“Anything I can do for you?”
At this question, Mary sighed. It was now or never. “Ja, there is. And I hate to ask it.”
Bethany stiffened, clearly anticipating her mother’s request.
“I know, Bethany, but I hadn’t time to go to the grocery this past week and now . . .” She gestured toward her cast. “It would be better to go today than tomorrow, wouldn’t you agree?”
She watched as her daughter swallowed, the color draining from her face. “I reckon so,” she said in a slow, deliberate tone.
“I can ask your daed to pick up some items next week when he’s coming home from work, but I don’t think I have enough food to get us through the weekend.” Mary knew they were out of much more than tea. Flour, sugar, butter, milk, and yeast were just some of the items that needed replenishment. But she also needed beef and chicken, as well as some fresh vegetables.
For a long moment, Bethany stood there, staring at the wall. Her lips moved but no words came out. Mary suspected that she was counting. It was a trick that she’d taught her daughter years ago to help collect her thoughts when she was feeling anxious.
Slowly, Bethany nodded. “I’ll go.” She walked over to fetch a pad of paper. She handed it to her mother. “Make a list then,” she said with great reluctance in her voice. “I can ride my bicycle, I reckon.”
“You’re such a gut dochder,” Mary said as she took the paper from her. “I promise I’ll keep the list as light as I can.”
But she could tell that Bethany wasn’t listening. Instead, her lips were moving again as she stood there, her face turned toward the window while she stared outside and slowly began counting again.
Chapter Fifteen
On her way into town, as she approached the first major intersection, Bethany got off her bicycle and waited for the light to turn green. She’d heard the story a hundred too many times about how her father’s older sister had been killed by a car. His mother had never quite been the same, her father always said when he warned her to be extra careful on the road.
Maybe that was one of the reasons she hated leaving the house so much.
Ever since she was a little girl, Bethany had loved nothing more than being at home. There was something comforting about the familiar sights, sounds, and smells. She liked being wrapped up in the familiar. She even loved gardening, although their garden hardly produced more than a few boxes of tomatoes, cucumbers, and beans each season. It was so small that weeding it only took her a few hours each week.
Once again, Bethany wished that they lived on a farm. She didn’t like how close her family lived to town, just on the edge of the tourist area where traffic was heavier. And some of their neighbors were Englischers. Not that it mattered much. Bethany rarely saw any of them.
The light turned green and she guided her bicycle across the intersection, triple-checking that no one was running the light from the opposite direction. As she made it to the other side of the intersection, a car pulled up alongside her. Bethany avoided looking at the occupants. From her peripheral vision, she saw that they were an older couple. Tourists, she thought, as she moved her bicycle to the side of the road and started to get on.
The car crept alongside her and, without thinking, Bethany glanced in their direction. A middle-aged woman leaned out the window, a camera in her hand pointed in Bethany’s direction.
Immediately, Bethany jerked her head the other way, swerving her bike at the same time as if trying to get away from the invasive camera. But it was too late. The woman had taken her photo and the car drove away, leaving Bethany trying to regain control of her bicycle.
“Ach! ”
The front tire hit a large rock on the shoulder of the road and before Bethany knew it, the wheel began to wobble.
She managed to stop the bicycle without falling, but a quick look told her all she needed to know: the tire was flat.
She pushed the
bicycle to the side of the road where she could inspect it better. Leaning down, she checked the tire and saw that the rim had bent. “Oh help,” she muttered as she touched it. Even if she could get it to one of those gas stations to inflate the tire, she still couldn’t ride it.
With a frustrated sigh, Bethany stood up, shielded her eyes from the lowering sun, and looked down the road. She was closer to town than home. But if she continued, she’d have to push the bicycle both ways. And yet, if she turned around to return to her mother, she wouldn’t have any of the groceries that were needed.
“Looks like you could use a hand.”
Startled, Bethany stiffened at the sound of the man’s voice coming from behind her. She hadn’t heard anyone approach. That familiar feeling of tightness clenched in her chest and she shut her eyes. One . . . two . . . three . . .
“I . . . I’m fine, danke,” she managed to say.
“Looks like you’ve a flat there, ja?”
She recognized the voice as belonging to an Amish man. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the horse and wagon-like buggy on the other side of the road. No wonder she hadn’t heard it approach, for it had already been there, stopped at the intersection.
“Ja, that’s a flat all right,” the man said. “Traffic’s too busy for you to be walking along the road,” he said in a kind but firm voice. “Let me take you home.”
The voice sounded familiar, but from where she stood, she couldn’t see who it was. Who was this young man? Turning around, she squinted, trying to make out the face of the driver.
Immediately, she froze. “John Esh,” she said in a whisper-soft voice.
“Bethany, right? Mary Ropp’s dochder?” His eyes held hers, and she wanted to tear away her gaze, but she couldn’t. There was something about this man that made her pulse quicken.
She couldn’t speak but managed to nod her head.
“Kum now,” he said and gestured toward the seat next to him. “Safer than walking.”
“I . . . I have to go to the grocery for my maem.”
He nodded in a thoughtful way. “I’ll take you.”