by Linda Byler
It was a farm, which highlighted rule number one. Plenty of work. A washhouse or laundry room that inevitably reeked of cow manure, clumps of it clinging to Muck Boots and Tingley overshoes. No matter how much she mopped or scrubbed, there were always fresh stains on sneakers, with hay and straw scattered on rugs and lying in corners. The front porch held a faded deacon’s bench piled with brightly colored bags of dog food, hockey skates, hockey sticks, and leftover coats. White plastic buckets stood on either side of the limp screen door, like sentries, guarding the entrance in all their cheap glory. A half dozen skinny barn cats lay in various positions, a few grooming themselves, others lifting their heads to acknowledge her arrival. Broken wind chimes tinkled haphazardly from a hook and hung beside two plastic hummingbird feeders, whose red color had weathered to a dull pink.
Edna wondered how many hummingbirds they’d fed this winter.
She exhaled a long sigh, then bent to pick up her backpack and made her way to the door. Before she reached it, the screen door was pushed open from the inside by an arm the size of a log, followed by a booming voice.
“Katsa! Shoo! Off the porch.”
The cats lifted themselves, stretched, and sat down, the six pairs of yellow eyes heralding her approach.
“Hello. Oh, hello, how wonderful to see you coming to our door! You are the most welcome sight ever.”
Edna could only describe the woman as massive. There was no end to her. Three hundred pounds was a kind estimate.
Oh my goodness.
“How are you? I’m Edna Miller.”
She put out an unsteady hand to shake hers, but was ignored, then swept into a bone-crushing hug and a deep rumble from within the excess poundage.
“Welcome. Welcome. Children, come meet our new maud.”
Instantly, the kitchen was filled with little ones of various sizes and colors, some blond, others with muddy brown hair, all dark-eyed and cherubic, their faces alight with interest.
“Now, Diana, this is Edna Miller. She’s going to live here for a few weeks. Edna, this is Diana. She’s five.”
The woman stood aside, beaming, her eyes bright with pride as the little girl stepped forward to place her hand in Edna’s.
“How do you do?” she asked politely.
Edna was completely taken aback. The children were clean; their hair combed flawlessly, their dresses made in the latest style, the hems almost touching the floor, and their small black coverings neat and straight.
In turn, there was Annalise, then Kent and Brendon, winsome little chaps who shook her hand gravely, each one presented with the same air of pride from the oversized mother.
“Now, you must come see the new one. Oh, she’s that adorable. She’s number nine.”
She moved across the kitchen the way many large women did. She seemed to sail, moving quite swiftly, like a large tugboat. She led Edna to a white bassinet pushed into a corner beside a huge recliner and bent to lift a bundle wrapped in a cream-colored blanket of expensive crocheted fabric. She held her out to Edna, saying, “She only weighed a little over six pounds. Came early. Isn’t she cute?”
Edna had to admit she’d hardly ever seen a more perfect little girl. Her face was round, her eyes like crescents, little half-moons fringed with wispy lashes that promised a heavy growth.
“She is absolutely picture perfect, isn’t she?” Edna said, sincerely.
“Oh, I know. Ours are all that cute, though. We named her Audrey. Audrey Rae. Isn’t that cute?”
She waited expectedly for Edna’s agreement, her eyes eager on her face.
“I’m Susie, so you know who to yell for if you need help.”
She laughed, then took the baby and sank into the recliner, reached down to pull the lever at the side and stretched her legs comfortably as the footrest moved into positions.
“Sit down, sit down. We want to get to know each other. The work will be waiting when we get to it, O.K.? Relax. Do you drink coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
“I do. I’ll get it, if you tell me where the mugs are,” Edna offered.
“To the right above the stove. Now, Edna, we don’t always live like this. The baby came, and everything went kaflooey in short order. The girls did well over the weekend. So did James, bless his kind heart. You know I have the best husband in central Indiana, you wait till you meet him. He’s a gem, an absolute keeper.”
Her bright eyes rested on Edna’s face, expecting agreement, as she carried two mugs of coffee to the recliner.
“Oh sorry. I need my creamer. Diana honey, would you please bring my creamer and spoon?”
Instant obedience, carried out quietly.
“Thank you, sweetie pie.”
“You’re welcome, Mam.”
“So, Edna, there are four more children in school, all girls. We have seven girls now, and two boys. I was hoping for a boy, but girls are always welcome.”
She bent her head, crooning, “Aren’t you, widdle Audrey. ”
“We have Karen in eighth grade, which, of course, I’ll be so glad to have her out of school to help, but I can’t tell her that. I told her to enjoy her last year of school and remain carefree; she’s still so young. Then we have Katrina in sixth grade, Sharon in fourth, and Shannon in second.
“All of them such a big help, so sweet and responsible. You know, Edna, I have no idea how the Lord ever blessed me so abundantly. I’m just swimming in happiness right now, and I do nothing to deserve it. My Mam and sisters close by, all so helpful with casseroles and desserts. Fern brought three, mind you, three baked lasagnas for the freezer, and her lasagnas are the best. Absolutely.”
She lifted the baby to her shoulder.
“Now tell me all about yourself, Edna. You know we live so far at the north end of the Amish community. I don’t believe I know your parents, or any of your relatives for that matter.”
“Well, there’s not much to say. I’m single, obviously, and twenty-nine years old. I live with my parents who are in their seventies, so that has a whole list of craziness.”
Susie choked on her coffee as she burst into laughter, the deep belly laugh of one who “gets it,” then shook her head from side to side.
“I can well imagine. I know my mam had her hands full with her parents, in their nineties, they were. Both of them.”
She paused, her head tilted at an angle.
“I may as well be honest, though. I cannot imagine why you are single. You’re like a chickadee. So small and round and dark. You’re just the cutest thing. You’d think the guys would be falling over each other for you.”
Edna gave a short laugh. “Not exactly. I have never been asked out. Not once.”
“Well, then God must have a special role for you, somewhere, somehow. There is just no rhyme or reason to your being single. Actually, I was prepared to meet this tall, skinny, sour old thing, you know. People have their idea what an, excuse me, old maid looks like. And you don’t fit that description at all.
“Look at me. Happily married, a whale of a woman. No seriously, I have a water retention condition and must go off my Lasix when I’m pregnant, I swell up like a balloon. This is probably my last baby, which makes me very sad, but it’s too dangerous now, with my blood pressure and all that goes with it. They had to take Audrey five weeks early, so I have a feeling I’ll have orders from my doctor.
“So now I’ll naturally keep decreasing all summer. My normal weight is a bit over two hundred, which is quite enough. But I’m elephantine, now. The fat lady at the circus.”
She laughed at her own description, then sat back and closed her eyes.
“My head is swimming, sorry, Edna. When these pills start to work, I tire easily and get light-headed. Listen, you just go ahead with laundry and cleaning up the way you’re used to it. I have a washer that runs on air, use it like an automatic. James has the tank full.”
Another pleasant surprise.
The laundry room was large, with plenty of windows dressed in fancy shades, the washe
r in a closet behind folding doors, shelves lined with Tide and Downy, Clorox and all kinds of stain removers and colorfast bleaches. Edna lifted the lid of the white, automatic washer, checked out the knobs and thought, Hmm. Well, my word.
She sensed a presence behind her and turned to find Diana, her hands clasped in front of her.
“If you want, I can show you where the hampers are, upstairs.”
“Sure. That would be a great help.”
“O.K. Follow me.”
Laundry was almost unfair. The clean clothes were spun so well they seemed dry, the clothes basket light in her hands. She washed dishes and windows, then mopped the laundry room floor between loads until lunchtime when she was introduced to the amiable James. He was tall and built like a linebacker, with the bushiest blond hair she’d ever seen, and a wispy beard that seemed like an unsuccessful attempt at completing his manliness.
He grinned widely, extended a huge paw (she couldn’t think of hands that size) and shook until her teeth rattled.
“We’re glad to have you. I told Susie more girls should make a career out of being a maud. You travel all over, don’t you? It’s a wonderful thing.”
“Thank you. I mostly enjoy my job. Of course, some places are better than others, but I seem to thrive on hard work. Plus, I enjoy housekeeping.”
“That’s good. A wonderful calling. Susie asleep?”
He looked toward the empty recliner. He bent to receive both boys, who came running at the sound of their father’s voice. He pulled them on his lap, giving them his full attention, as Diana and Annalise stood at his elbows, waiting their turn. Edna was fully and efficiently dismissed as he listened to the chatter of the little ones.
“Kent wet his bed,” Brendon said gravely.
“Well, he can’t help it. Too much chocolate milk last night, right, buddy? We love our chokko milk.” He rumpled Kent’s hair, and the boy nodded solemnly.
Edna heated Campbell’s tomato soup, made grilled cheese sandwiches, opened a jar of pickles, and then apologized for the quick lunch.
“I hadn’t taken a farmer’s lunch into consideration.”
“Don’t apologize. It looks delicious. Just what I was hungry for. Nothing beats a good grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup on a cold, dreary day like this.”
Oh, but you wait, Edna thought. Wait till I bake apple pies and cinnamon rolls with caramel icing and fried chicken or pot roast with Lipton’s onion soup mix. She looked forward to cooking for him, as genuine as he was, and as rewarding as it was bound to be.
She had to admit, this once, that the front porch had been deceiving. The farm was truly well kept, the old house remodeled, not with the latest or most expensive materials, but with common sense. New drywall where it was needed, kitchen cupboards replaced with good-quality custom-made cabinets, new flooring, with painted trim that looked as if the old, routered wood had been used wherever possible. The house contained some clutter, of course, but underneath, it was reasonably clean. The laundry room had only a faint odor of cow, or “bovine cologne,” as Edna dubbed it.
So she entered seamlessly into the life of James and Susie Detweiler, went right ahead with the work the way Susie wanted it done, which was basically whatever she saw necessary. By the end of the first week, the house had taken on a new shine, windows gleaming, linoleum wiped clean with Pine-Sol, every small piece of furniture moved and dusted, bedding washed, dried, and put back on the beds.
She discovered the basement that first Monday after the lowering skies dropped fat raindrops that increased all forenoon, until it could easily be called a deluge.
She carried the wet laundry to the basement, found a large, warm area open to the east with low windows and French doors, There was linoleum on the floor and paneling on the walls, wooden clothes racks and plenty of clotheslines suspended from the ceiling, and a coal stove giving out radiant heat.
There was a Ping-Pong table, a shuffleboard table, air hockey, an extra refrigerator, and a set of inexpensive cabinets complete with a sink and stove.
The school-aged girls were grown versions of the four youngest. Blond, brown, all dark-eyed, their dresses made to fit well, as neat as pins, their white coverings clean and well-shaped. But most of all, there were the impeccable manners on display again. They emptied their lunch boxes themselves, washed the Tupperware containers, dried them, and put them back. They went to the basement only after Edna told them they didn’t have to help with supper, and after they sat at length with their mother who listened carefully as they told her about their day. They did have a quiet, desperate struggle after one of them thought the other held Baby Audrey too long, but that was only to be expected, for sure.
She made a meatloaf that first evening, covered thickly with ketchup and brown sugar, a bit of mustard. Baked potato wedges were covered in olive oil, garlic, and Parmesan cheese, with a salad made of iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, and broccoli florets, which, she was horrified to find, barely reached to fill everyone’s plate. James had an enormous appetite, with Susie being no slacker in the food consumption department, either.
She shrugged inwardly but did not apologize. This was how she learned. She should have known by the size of them, but then, you could never tell. That fuzzy, peach-colored beard threw her off, she figured.
After supper, the two oldest girls covered their hair with bandanas, shrugged into old gray sweatshirts, and went to help their father with the milking and calf feeding. Sharon and Shannon were expected to help clean the table, to do dishes, and sweep, which Edna found to be a great help.
The family had a routine, a well-managed order to their days, but Edna could never quite figure out how it was all accomplished under an atmosphere of relaxation. Things didn’t run smoothly all the time, so if something did not get accomplished, it was alright, tomorrow was another day.
The front porch got a thorough cleaning, though. Edna dumped the cat food, which she had mistaken for dog food, into the plastic buckets and carried them to the laundry room closet. She found lids and a permanent marker, and wrote “CAT FOOD” in capital letters. She found a home for hockey skates and sticks, all the unused coats, then swept and scrubbed the cement porch floor, replaced the welcome mat with a slap, set the broom on its handle to dry and that was that—no more misleading porches in her domain.
She fell in love with Katrina and Karen, the two oldest. She never met girls with so much liveliness and happiness, complete with an outsized sense of humor. Well, look at the parents, she thought. Same genes.
On the third day, Wednesday, she had finally been able to bake bread, resulting in warm, fragrant loaves, the tops glistening with butter and resting on the counter under a tablecloth to keep them from drying out.
The girls, always hungry, sniffed appreciatively, rolled their eyes, and asked Edna where it was.
“What? Where what is?” Edna asked, feigning innocence.
“Bread! It smells like fresh homemade bread.” Katrina said.
“Oh come on, I didn’t bake bread.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” from Karen.
Taken completely by surprise, Edna’s mouth fell open.
“What? My mother would never have allowed such language in the house.”
“Whoopsie. Neither does mine,” Karen hissed, rolling her eyes in the direction of the recliner, where Susie lay with her eyes closed.
“I’m sorry my mam takes on the form of a walrus when she has a baby.” Again, Edna’s mouth formed an O of astonishment.
They laughed lightly, quietly, in the beginning, but the laughter kept bubbling up over and over until they were sprawled on kitchen chairs, their arms hanging helplessly at their sides, wiping their eyes to rid them of unexpected tears.
“Be nice!” Edna hissed.
“We are nice. We tease her about it. She just laughs. It’s a condition.”
“I know. She told me. She says this is probably the last one.”
“Oh, I hope not. I love the babies.”
&
nbsp; “Oh bread, where art thou? Thou art forever fair in mine eyes,” Karen sang out.
“I canst sniff thee, yet thou eludest me,” Katrina mimicked.
There was just so much to love in this unexpectedly well-adjusted family, that Edna often found herself thinking back to her arrival, the inward shifting of gears as the porch came into view.
You just never know, and that was the truth.
Midweek, James Detweiler came home with armloads of groceries, bearing the grave news that some Schlabach woman had died, leaving a husband and three motherless children. He didn’t know them, but that was the talk around town.
Edna stood still, absorbed the news without any outward sign that she had heard, but immediately thought of the man at the dry goods store.
Orva, they called him. Orva Schlabach.
So it had happened then. Her cancer-riddled body was free from pain, or rather, her spirit left the body here below to be properly taken care of, to be viewed and mourned.
Edna felt nothing. A dull acceptance, until she remembered the look in his eyes as he had stumbled away. She should not have been there, seeing that. It was as if she had viewed the private photographs of a man that did not want her to see them.
Edna felt a tugging lack of energy, a lassitude she couldn’t understand. She folded clothes and put them away, made a pot of chili, dragging herself from one job to the next, wishing she could lie down and rest.
When she finally found herself in the shower, the spray of scalding hot water released an unstoppable flow of tears that lasted far into the night as sleep eluded her. If someone would have asked her why she was crying, she would not have had an answer.
She awoke the following morning to the high, insistent pinging of her travel alarm, felt the immeasurable sadness, stumbled into the bathroom, peered at her swollen eyes, and knew she had to perk up.