The Amish Cookie Club

by Sarah Price

  “And you’ll thank Miriam when you see her at worship this weekend?”

  She pressed her lips together, trying to keep her tongue from lashing out. “Maem, Miriam Schrock is a nosy gossip. I’ll not be thanking her for anything.”

  “Myrna!”

  “I’m not using this . . . this”—she gestured at the bag—“this silly old wives’ tale on a child!”

  Verna gave her a stern look of disapproval. “These old wives’ tales, as you call them, have survived all these years because they work! And if this Ezekiel fellow doesn’t believe in modern medicine, he certainly can’t argue with traditional medicine, can he now?”

  Myrna rolled her eyes.

  But her mother wasn’t about to give up. “There’s no sense in having a little one in pain, Myrna. Little Henry needs something to help him get better. Why, I remember how your bruder Samuel always had earaches.”

  “Ja, and I remember how Mammi Bess used one of those ear candles and fell asleep, almost setting his hair on fire!”

  Verna made a face. “Well, there was that. But it did work.”

  Taking a deep breath, Myrna knew she couldn’t argue with her mother. There was no getting through to her. Besides, she didn’t have time, not if she wanted to get to the Riehls’ to make breakfast before she took the children to school. “Fine, Maem.”

  “You’ll try it, then?”

  Myrna sighed. “Ja, I’ll try it.”

  She grabbed the paper bag and started toward the door.

  “Oh, and Myrna?”

  Pausing, she turned toward her mother. “Ja?”

  Verna smiled at her. “Don’t fall asleep.”

  * * *

  “Come, Henry,” she coaxed. “I’ve brought something that mayhaps will help your ear.”

  He watched her with great suspicion.

  “It’s nothing that will hurt,” she said, a smile on her face. “But you’re going to have to lie still. Can you do that for me?”

  Henry swallowed and watched as Myrna pulled out the ear candle. She showed it to him. “See? It’s just a candle.”

  His older brothers stared at it, wide-eyed. “Not medicine?”

  She shook her head. “Nee, Daniel, it’s not medicine.”

  “He’s not allowed medicine,” David replied. “None of us are,” he added before losing interest and wandering off.

  Myrna took a deep breath, watching David sulk away while wishing she could find out more about the young boy’s comment. But she felt it wasn’t her place to question him on the subject. Myrna knew there was nothing wrong with Englische medicine. And from the way David had left, she could tell that he’d been privy to discussions between his mother and father. Knowing that his father had refused his mother treatment must have hurt David, Myrna thought. For that reason, she forced herself to keep silent, not wanting to speak ill of Ezekiel to his children, and not wanting to raise painful memories for his young son. What she wished she could do, however, was speak to Ezekiel.

  None of it made sense. He seemed so caring and loving toward his children. Even though she’d only worked for him just a short time, Myrna held Ezekiel in high regard as a parent. He’d been very kind and appeared grateful for all that she did, too. It just didn’t make sense that such a warm, tenderhearted, and thoughtful man would be so opposed to seeking help from Englische doctors.

  An ear candle, however, was not Englische medicine. In fact, it had been used by many Amish for generations, probably even dating back to when the communities lived in Palatine. Surely Ezekiel wouldn’t complain about that, would he? To be on the safe side, however, she’d decided not to tell him about it. She just hoped that it would work so Henry would feel better.

  * * *

  An hour later, just as she was about to remove the candle and blow it out, she noticed Henry staring over her shoulder, focusing on something behind her. For a moment, she started to turn, wondering what he was looking at. But even as she glanced over her shoulder, she already knew.

  Ezekiel stood in the doorway.

  “Zeke!”

  Quickly, she grabbed the candle and, moving it away from Henry, extinguished the flame.

  A dark cloud blanketed his face. “What’s going on here?”

  Holding the candle in one hand, Myrna knew that she couldn’t deny what she had been doing. Something about Zeke’s expression frightened her, and she knew she had to be truthful. She wished she hadn’t listened to her mother’s advice. “I . . . I thought I’d try this to help soothe Henry’s earache.”

  “You thought you’d try to help soothe his earache,” he repeated in an incredulous tone. “But you clearly did not think to mention it to me, his father.”

  Slowly, Myrna moved her hand so that the candle was hidden from view.

  “I control the care my kinner receive,” he said, raising his voice. “Not you or anyone else, Myrna. I do.”

  She felt the color drain from her cheeks. It was true that she’d intentionally not consulted him. Her fear of his refusal to help Henry had stemmed from what she’d heard about his refusal to permit his wife to treat her cancer. But Ezekiel was right, of course. This child was not her son, and she had no right to treat him without permission, despite her desire to make him feel better. If Ezekiel didn’t care for medicine, that wasn’t something she could change. Simply put, it was not a decision she could make on the child’s behalf. How could she have been so foolish?

  “I’m terribly sorry, Ezekiel,” she whispered.

  “You should be!” he snapped and, without another word, stormed out of the house.

  For a long moment, Myrna stood there, the candle still in her hand. Somehow, Henry had not cried when his father had scolded her. For that, Myrna was grateful.

  And yet, she wondered at Ezekiel’s anger. It seemed disproportionate and so out of character for the man she had grown to know.

  She’d heard the stories about Katie Ruth’s passing and how it was Ezekiel who refused to let her try conventional medicine. Now she understood why Katie Ruth would have succumbed to his demands. If the normally subdued and kindhearted Ezekiel could turn so quickly and with such vengeance, it was no wonder his wife hadn’t fought back.

  Going against Ezekiel’s wishes was a mistake Myrna would not make again.

  * * *

  By the time she’d finished her afternoon chores, Myrna was more than ready to leave the Riehl farm. She wanted nothing more than to put distance—and a lot of it!—between herself and Ezekiel Riehl.

  For the rest of the day, Ezekiel hadn’t come into the house. In fact, she thought she heard the horse and buggy leave the property when she was fixing the children a snack. Knowing that he was gone gave her a little bit of breathing room. She needed that break after what had happened earlier.

  Still, she knew that she’d have to face him. After all, she couldn’t leave the house until he came in at the end of his afternoon chores. For the past two weeks, she’d always waited until he came into the house before she bade him and the children goodbye. It was the unspoken passing of the children’s care from one person to the other.

  Now, as Myrna stood at the kitchen window, chewing on a fingernail, she waited for any sign that Ezekiel was finished working for the day. But she saw nothing, not even a hint of where he might be at that moment.

  “Myrna, can you color a picture with me?”

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to leave her station at the window. “Ja, Daniel, I’d love to.”

  Walking over to the table, she saw that he’d spread out his box of half-broken crayons on the table, a pile of the prettiest colors neatly set aside for her. His thoughtfulness warmed her heart.

  Once she sat down, Daniel pushed a piece of paper toward her. On it was the outline of a horse standing behind a chunky wood fence.

  “Is that my picture, then?”

  He nodded. “You can color it any color you want.” Myrna poked at the crayons he had assigned to her pile. “Hmm, I don’t see any brown her
e.”

  Daniel gave her an odd look and then burst out laughing. “Girls like pink, not brown.”

  “But you can’t color a horse pink,” she teased.

  He giggled as he picked up the brown crayon from his pile. “Here, use that one.”

  She smiled and then took the crayon and set about filling in the outline of the horse.

  Just as she was about finished coloring the horse, she heard the sound of the buggy wheels on the gravel driveway. She looked toward the window. Had Ezekiel truly been gone that long? She had thought he had returned a long time ago. Clearly not. Where could he have gone? she wondered.

  A few minutes later, the kitchen door opened. Silently, Ezekiel entered, pausing to shut the door behind him.

  “Daed!”

  Ezekiel held his finger to his lips, indicating that Daniel should lower his voice. “Where’s your bruder?”

  “David? He’s outside.”

  But Ezekiel shook his head. “Nee, Daniel. I meant Henry.”

  Myrna finished coloring and put down her crayon. “He’s sleeping. Been napping on and off all day.” Pushing her chair back from the table, she stood up. “I believe he’s feeling better.”

  Ezekiel’s eyes followed her as she went to fetch her things.

  “Daniel, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Aw. You gotta go?”

  She nodded. “Ja, I do. I have my own family to sup with tonight.”

  He grumbled under his breath but quickly returned his attention to his coloring book.

  “Myrna.”

  Though she wanted nothing more than to flee from Ezekiel’s steady gaze, Myrna did the opposite. She planted her feet firmly on the floor and faced him, making certain to hold her chin high.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said when she finally made eye contact with him. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

  She nodded, grateful he had apologized but still ready to hold her ground if need be.

  “It’s just that . . .” He appeared nervous, shuffling his feet and clearing his throat. “Well, I reckon after everything that happened with Katie Ruth, it just caught me off guard when I saw you using that . . . that thing on Henry.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” She forced a small smile. “I should’ve discussed it with you. I suppose I just didn’t want to bother you.” As soon as she spoke, she knew it wasn’t true. But she didn’t want to tell him the truth. It would do no one any good to remind Ezekiel that he, and he alone, had stood in the way of his wife getting treatment.

  A look of relief washed over him, and she thought she saw him sigh. “So, we’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

  Myrna frowned at him, an incredulous expression on her face. Had he truly thought that she’d neglect her responsibilities and commitment to the children? “Unless you tell me otherwise,” she said tersely.

  “Nee, I’m not saying that.” He gave her a small smile. “The kinner sure do care for you.”

  As she rode her bicycle home, Myrna found herself replaying the events of the day in her head. How could a man be such a mixture of conflicting personalities? Until that morning when he’d walked in on her candling Henry’s ear, Ezekiel had impressed her with his care of the children and his kindness toward her. In fact, she had almost forgotten about the rumors regarding his hand in his wife’s death. Now, however, she’d seen a whole other side to him, a side that left her wondering whether he was a true chameleon or not. Could someone really hide their true personality behind feigned virtues?

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I understand you ran into Myrna in town earlier this week,” Verna said. “She’s supposed to be at the Riehls’ tending the kinner, not shopping.”

  Edna laughed in a light, good-natured way. “Oh, relax, Verna. She had the kinner with her. I take it she told you that she saw me, then?”

  “Nee, Miriam stopped by and told me.” Verna exhaled.

  “Myrna didn’t tell me because she knows I thought it was too soon. Taking a boppli and a three-year-old shopping?”

  “Oh now, Verna, there’s no need to fret so much. After all, Ezekiel was with her.”

  Wilma wore a smug look. “No wonder Myrna didn’t mention seeing Edna.”

  While Verna had no idea what that meant, she wasn’t about to poke the bear and take Wilma’s bait by asking.

  Mary, however, set down her crocheting. “You saw him? What’s he like, Edna?”

  “Tall, dark, and handsome?” Wilma quipped.

  “Oh hush!” Mary scolded.

  Edna laughed again. “Well, Wilma, I must confess that he is a rather nice-looking man, and he seems quite humble. In fact, he was pushing the shopping cart instead of Myrna.”

  Mary gasped and clasped her hands before her. “Like a courting couple!”

  At this comment, Wilma tossed a ball of yarn at her. “Now you hush! What courting couple goes grocery shopping, anyway? Sounds more like a married couple to me.”

  Abruptly, Verna stood up. “Excuse me,” she said and hurried into the kitchen.

  She needed a moment to think. Alone.

  Was it possible that Myrna was developing feelings for this man? She pretended to check on the cookies baking in the kitchen, but her mind was reeling. It might have only been two weeks, but stranger things happened all the time. Why, she had known she wanted to marry Simon after only two buggy rides!

  She stood at the kitchen sink and stared out the window. In the distance, just beyond the edge of the backyard, she could see a neighbor plowing his field, a team of four Belgian mules pulling the harrower.

  “Verna?”

  She didn’t turn to face Edna. Instead, she continued watching the farmer drive the team along the long, straight rows of dirt. “Not one of my kinner was raised to farm,” she whispered. The warmth of Edna’s hand on her arm startled her, and Verna turned to face her friend. “It’s a hard life, Edna.”

  “I know,” Edna replied. “I live it every day.” Her lips turned up at the corners. “But if anyone could do it and do it well, it’s Myrna.”

  Verna sighed. “I reckon she could.”

  “But let’s not put the buggy before the horse, eh? One shopping trip in town does not mean you should start planning a wedding.”

  “Oh ja, there’s truth to that,” Verna said. “But I have a feeling, Edna. You just get those sometimes with daughters.”

  This time, Edna’s smile was small and poorly hid her own pain at never having enjoyed the pleasure of raising a daughter. Verna watched as Edna rejoined the other two women, but there was a noticeable silence about her as she picked up her knitting needles and continued working on the baby blanket for MayFest.

  * * *

  On Sunday, Edna sat on the hard wooden bench, half listening to the bishop preaching in his singsong way about how Jesus tended to his followers as a shepherd tends his flock.

  “And we as a community must take care of one another and tend to those in need . . .” the bishop was saying as Edna’s attention began to drift.

  With so little time left until MayFest, she had enough on her plate with finishing the promised baby blankets and organizing a baking bee so that they’d have enough cookies to sell at the event. If the bishop wants to preach to the congregation about taking care of others, he needn’t preach in my direction, she thought.

  There was so much to do and so little time to do it. With the days growing longer, Elmer and the boys were busy prepping the fields, spreading manure and raking the soil. In just another week, they’d seed the fields for corn and, shortly after, tend to their first cutting of the alfalfa in the back fields. It was a busy time of year, that was for sure and certain.

  And, on top of all that, MayFest was the unofficial kickoff to the tourist season and the end to Edna’s quiet season. Soon she’d begin hosting midday meals for the Englische tourists again. While she only cooked for them on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, it took a lot of planning, organizing, and time.

  Frankly, Edna dreaded it, bu
t the family needed the extra income.

  First, however, Edna knew she had to survive her commitment to helping with MayFest.

  An hour later, the three-hour worship service ended with the final prayer and genuflection at the wall. Edna could hardly get to the kitchen fast enough. Her mind had been reeling throughout the service, and her backside ached from having sat for so many hours.

  “That was a long one today, eh?” someone mumbled into her ear.

  Edna stifled a laugh when she recognized the voice as belonging to Susan Schwartz. “Ja, a bit long. I much prefer Preacher Mast’s sermons, to be honest,” she admitted in a low voice.

  Behind them, the room was being transformed from a place for prayer to a fellowship hall. The younger men brought in large wooden trestles while the older men lifted the bench legs to slide into them. The smaller boys scampered around the room, collecting the chunky black hymnals and placing them in two wooden crates. Those would be loaded into the bench wagon that waited outside the kitchen doors.

  Suddenly, the room no longer had forty benches, but two long tables, ready for the congregation to enjoy a fellowship hour.

  Once the men finished, the younger women began setting the tables with plates and cups while the older women worked in the kitchen.

  “Preaching about serving others,” Susan scoffed as she placed sliced bread onto serving plates. “I feel like that’s all I do anymore.”

  Edna knew the feeling.

  “Speaking of serving others, how’s that Myrna Bontrager making out with Ezekiel Riehl’s kinner?”

  “Land’s sake!” Edna had forgotten that Susan was the catalyst for Myrna’s new job. “I’m getting addle-brained, Susan. I clear forgot to update you!”

  Susan gave a tired laugh. “Happens to the best of us, I’m afraid.”

  “Seems like Myrna’s making out right gut,” she said to Susan. “In fact, I saw them in town the other week.” Edna paused before she added, “They were grocery shopping.”

  Immediately, Susan stopped working and gasped. “Grocery shopping? Together? In town?” Her eyes widened. Edna didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what Susan was thinking. The older woman clucked her tongue and pressed her lips together in a mischievous way. “Well, wouldn’t that be something?”