Amish Generations

by Kathleen Fuller

  “I don’t have a cold,” she said, “but I did twist mei ankle a little bit on Saturday.” She bit her bottom lip at the lie. Why had she told him that?

  “Oh. Did it swell up?”

  “Ya,” she said, cringing inside as she made the lie worse.

  “Then you should probably be propping it up. I sprained mei ankle two years ago. Hurt something awful. It did feel a little better when I kept it elevated.” He pushed the coffee table closer to her. “Why don’t you put it up on this?”

  Not having a choice, Fern put her right foot up on the table, glad her black tights covered her legs.

  Dan stared at her ankle. “Looks like the swelling has gone down. Mine looked like a grapefruit when I sprained it.”

  “It has gone down a lot,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek.

  He looked relieved. “Then you’re on the mend. I wish you would have told me about it. I wouldn’t have suggested we continue to sled.”

  “It didn’t hurt as bad then.”

  Dan nodded. “I have to say, the afternoon didn’t turn out the way I planned.”

  Guilt churned inside her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, it’s not yer fault the sled was on its last legs.” He turned toward her. “How about we try it again? Not the sledding, but the date.”

  Her mouth went dry. “A date?”

  “Ya.” His voice grew husky. “Last Saturday was a date. You knew that, didn’t you?”

  Not wanting to look like she was seltsam for not realizing it, she nodded. “And you want a second one?”

  “Of course I do.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner. We’ve known each other forever.”

  “You did have a girlfriend for a while, Dan.”

  “Don’t remind me. Besides, if I’d known how much I . . .” He paused, but his eyes continued to hold hers. “How about we geh on a sleigh ride?”

  He’d given her an opening. This was the time she could tell him they shouldn’t date. Then she would never have to reveal her secret to him. He would find someone else and she . . . wouldn’t.

  “Fern?” he said, frowning again. “This is the second time I’ve asked you out and the second time you’ve hesitated. If you’re not interested, you can tell me.” His mouth tightened. “I’d rather you be honest with me than geh out with me if you don’t want to.”

  She’d already lied to him once. How could she lie to him again? “A sleigh ride sounds wonderful.”

  His expression relaxed, and he smiled. “If yer ankle is still not one hundred percent, we can find something else to do.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine.” She gripped the edge of the chair.

  Dan stood. “I’ll pick you up around two o’clock on Saturday, if that works for you.” After she nodded, he said, “I’m glad you’re giving me another chance. And don’t bother getting up. I’ll see myself out.”

  Her heart squeezed as she watched him go to the front door, turning to smile at her once more before he left. He hadn’t been gone more than a minute before Mamm came in, as if she’d been lingering just outside the living room. “So? What happened?”

  “I thought you said not to pry.” Daed walked in behind her, but Fern could see the curiosity in his eyes.

  She tried to smile, to be enthusiastic about seeing Dan again on Saturday. But what was the point? It wasn’t as if they were going to have any kind of long-lasting relationship. She wasn’t about to say that in front of her parents, though. Instead, she mustered a half grin, the best she could do. “Dan and I are going on a sleigh ride this Saturday.”

  Mamm gently smiled, but Daed frowned a bit. When Mamm noticed, she said, “It will be fine, Melvin.”

  Finally, her father nodded. “You have fun,” he said. “But not too much fun.”

  “We won’t.”

  After her parents left for the kitchen, Fern moved her foot off the coffee table. Then she straightened her shoulders. This would be the last date she would have with Dan, because after their sleigh ride, she would tell him about her RA. But she wouldn’t let that stop her from having fun, even if it was just for a little while.

  * * *

  On Wednesday, Fern took a taxi to her rheumatologist’s office in Geauga County for her checkup, which would involve some blood work. Her mother used to go with her on these visits, but for the past several years she’d made the trip alone.

  When she walked into the office, she signed her name on the clipboard at the receptionist’s desk and then turned to sit down. The door to the office opened, and Miriam Lapp and her grandmother walked in.

  Fern froze. What were they doing here? She hadn’t seen Miriam since she and her family moved to Ashtabula over a year ago. Miriam seemed just as surprised to see her. Her grandmother, Ruth, hobbled over to Fern, using a cane to help her with balance.

  “Hello, Fern,” she said, the creases in her skin deepening as she smiled. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  Miriam moved to stand next to her. “Hi, Fern.”

  “Hello.” Fern had never liked Miriam too much, and not because she’d dated Dan. She was a year older than both her and Dan, and she had been the smartest girl in school. Trouble was, she knew it. Miriam wasn’t overtly prideful, but sometimes she would make snide comments about other people that rubbed Fern the wrong way. Yet Dan had seen something in her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have dated her for almost a year.

  “Who are you here with?” Ruth asked.

  Fern panicked. She still felt bad for lying to Dan, and God had pricked her conscience about that. She didn’t want to pile more guilt on herself. “Nee one,” she said in a low voice. “Dr. Ripa is mei doctor.”

  “I had nee idea you saw a rheumatologist,” Ruth said.

  Miriam turned to Ruth. “I’ll sign you in, Grossmutter, and I’ll apologize for being late.”

  “Danki, lieb.” She turned to Fern. “Let’s sit down. These legs aren’t what they used to be.”

  They both sat down on the light-green office chairs. At first, Fern kept one eye on Miriam, who was chatting with the receptionist, but then she relaxed. Miriam and her family, including Ruth, didn’t live in Sugarcreek anymore, which meant Fern didn’t have to worry about them telling anyone they’d seen her here. Her secret was still safe—until she told Dan, of course.

  “Isn’t Dr. Ripa a wonderful doctor? She’s done wonders for mei rheumatism.”

  Fern nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “What do you see her for?”

  Ruth asked the question just as Miriam sat down on the opposite side of her grandmother.

  “An autoimmune disease,” Fern said quietly, suddenly realizing she didn’t have to be specific. Dr. Ripa saw patients for all kinds of chronic conditions, not just RA.

  “Aren’t you yung to have something like that?” Miriam said, giving her a dubious look.

  “Chronic illness can affect all ages,” Fern said, a little irritated. Did Miriam think she was lying? For once lately, she wasn’t.

  “I had nee idea.” Miriam picked up a magazine and opened the cover. “By the way, how’s Dan doing?” she said as she leafed through the pages.

  “He’s fine.”

  “He’s such a gut yung mann,” Ruth said, with a reminiscent smile. “I wish the two of you could have worked out, Miriam.”

  Miriam looked up from her magazine and straight at Fern. “Me too.”

  “Ruth Beiler,” a nurse called.

  “That’s me.” Ruth slowly got up from her chair and grabbed her cane. “Lovely to see you again, Fern. Tell yer familye hello for me. I do miss Sugarcreek, but Ashtabula is very nice too.”

  “I will.”

  Miriam set down the magazine and turned to Fern. “Tell Clara that Phoebe says hello. She really enjoys getting her letters.” Then she followed her grandmother back to the exam rooms.

  Fern leaned against her seat and blew out a breath. Then she frowned. Why had Miriam given her such a pointed look when they were talking about D
an? And why had she stressed Clara’s letters to Miriam’s older sister, Phoebe? Clara and Phoebe were good friends, and Fern wasn’t surprised that they wrote to each other. But Fern had detected a biting undertone to Miriam’s words, which was strange.

  Unless . . .

  Fern’s stomach dropped. Surely Clara didn’t. Her sister had promised not to say anything. But she knew better than anyone that Clara had loose lips, and she wouldn’t put it past her to also have a loose pen.

  When she was finished with her appointment and had filled her new prescription, she had her driver take her straight to Clara’s house. After paying him, she marched up the porch steps and knocked on the door. When Clara opened it, she barged in, whipping off her bonnet and coat before dropping them on a chair.

  “Good afternoon to you too.” Clara frowned and shut the door. “Is something wrong?”

  She clenched her fists. “I just saw Miriam and Ruth Beiler at Dr. Ripa’s office.”

  “Really? What were they doing there?”

  She took a step toward her sister, ignoring her question. “Did you tell Phoebe there’s something going on between me and Dan?”

  Clara looked bewildered. “Nee, I didn’t say anything—” Her face turned pale. “Wait. I might have mentioned that the two of you had become a little friendlier lately. But that was it, I promise.”

  “I guess Phoebe told Miriam.” Fern sank down on the couch. “Why can’t anyone mind their own business? You, Mamm, Phoebe . . .”

  Clara sat down next to her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking when I wrote that, other than I was happy for you. I don’t see why it would matter to Miriam one way or another whether you and Dan are friends or . . .” She shook her head. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything. Can you forgive me?”

  She studied Clara’s eyes and saw genuine regret there. “Of course I do,” she said, weary. Then she told Clara what Miriam said, emphasizing how Miriam had agreed with her grandmother, wishing she and Dan had worked out. “Maybe I read more into her words than was there.”

  “It sounds like you might have. I wouldn’t worry about it. If they were meant to be together, they would be.” She patted Fern on the knee. “How did yer appointment geh?”

  Glad for the change of subject, she said, “Gut. I told Dr. Ripa about mei pain and exhaustion—and about the sledding accident.” She glanced at Clara. “I’m sure Mamm mentioned that event to you.”

  “Um, ya.”

  “Of course she did.” Fern sighed. “Dr. Ripa said to take it easy for the next couple of weeks, and she increased mei medicine dosage, even though I didn’t want her to.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d rather not be taking medicine at all. I know it helps me, but sometimes it upsets mei stomach. I also have to watch out for upper respiratory infections because of it. But lately, while I’ve been on the smallest dose of medication, mei symptoms have been bothering me more. At least Dr. Ripa said she’ll adjust the dose again if she needs to.”

  “I’m glad you agreed to her recommendation.”

  Fern paused. Maybe she shouldn’t be so upset that her mother was talking to Clara. If she put herself in Mamm’s shoes, if she had a child with a chronic illness, she would need to talk to someone too.

  “Do you think it helps Mamm to talk to you?”

  “Ya,” Clara said, without hesitation. “It definitely does. And it helps me to talk to her.”

  “Then I’m glad you have each other to talk to.” She told herself not to be so hard on them in the future. She was the one living with her illness, but it also affected her loved ones. She had to remember that.

  Clara’s eyes shone. “Danki. That means a lot.” She added, “Since you’re here, why don’t you stay for supper? The kinner will be home from school soon, and I know they’d love to see their aenti Fern.”

  She was tempted, as she did enjoy being with her nieces and nephews. But she was also tired from going to her appointment, and she was determined to follow doctor’s orders to the letter. “I’ll have to take a rain check. And instead of walking home, I’ll call another taxi.”

  “I understand. Do you want a cup of kaffee while you wait on yer ride?”

  “That would be nice.”

  While Clara started the percolator going, Fern slipped on her coat and trekked to the phone shanty. The snow had been falling in spurts all day, which made her think about her sleigh ride with Dan on Saturday. Now she wasn’t sure if she should go. A sleigh ride wouldn’t be strenuous, but she would be spending more time out in the cold, and that could aggravate her symptoms, something her doctor had emphasized during her visit. “Keep yourself as warm as possible in this cold weather,” she’d said after she made out the prescription and handed it to Fern. “That will help with the pain.”

  She called for a taxi, and the driver showed up just as Fern was finishing her coffee with Clara. Instead of instructing him to take her home, though, she gave him Dan’s address. But she asked him to pull up in front of his mailbox instead of into the driveway. Searching her purse, she found a scrap piece of paper and scribbled a note on it. She rolled down the window and tucked the note into the mailbox. “I’m finished here,” she said. “You can take me home.”

  As the driver pulled away, she looked at Dan’s house, regret washing over her. She saw his buggy there, which meant he was home. She told herself she didn’t want to bother him while he was working in the forge, but that wasn’t the reason she’d put the note in his mailbox. She hadn’t wanted to face him when she canceled their date. She was a coward—another reason he was better off without her.

  Chapter 7

  After a long day in the forge, Dan closed his blacksmith shop and stepped outside. Although it was early in the evening, the sun had gone down, and the cold air was welcome even though he was wearing no coat. His shop had been hot.

  He hadn’t had a chance to check the mail yet, something he normally did at his lunch break, so he strode down his driveway to do it. He opened the mailbox lid and was pulling out some envelopes and fliers when he saw a piece of folded paper floating out. It landed on the ground. He snatched it up from the snow but waited until he got inside the house to read it. He turned on the gas lamp in the kitchen, and it hissed to life. He opened the paper.

  Dear Dan,

  I’m sorry, I can’t make it on Saturday.

  Fern

  He crumpled the paper in his hand, disappointed and partially annoyed. If she’d had enough time to drop off the note, she’d had enough time to tell him to his face. Better yet, if she wasn’t interested in him, she should have said so from the start, like he’d asked her to.

  He tossed the paper and his mail on the table. Fine, he got the message. He wouldn’t bother asking her out again.

  He’d been starving when he stopped working, but now he wasn’t hungry. Wandering around the house, he tried to put Fern out of his mind, but he couldn’t. Lord, just let me be free of mei feelings for her.

  * * *

  For the rest of the week, Dan worked in his shop, shod a few horses, and helped Alvin restore the Stanley Steamer. By the time he got home each night, he was past tired. Even so, he had trouble sleeping, unable to stop thinking about Fern and whether he had done something to upset her. But by Saturday afternoon, he realized he couldn’t go on like this. If Fern didn’t want him, he’d have to accept that.

  Trouble was, his heart wasn’t listening, and by Sunday afternoon he could no longer stand not knowing why Fern had canceled their date. Iva had even seen her looking fine at the discount store during the time they were supposed to be on their sleigh ride, so she couldn’t have canceled on him because she was sick.

  He hitched up the buggy and drove to her house, determined to find out what was going on once and for all.

  When Fern answered the front door, she seemed shocked to see him.

  “Can we talk?” he said, trying to hide the bitterness from his voice.

  She opened the door wider and nodde
d. He stepped inside and took off his hat and boots but didn’t remove his coat.

  “Would you like some tea?” Her voice was wobbly, but he noticed that she looked fine to him too. No, more than fine. She looked beautiful.

  He shook his head. “I need to know one thing, Fern, and then I won’t bother you again.” He swallowed. “Why don’t you want to geh out with me?”

  * * *

  As the blood was surely draining from her face, all the guilt and regret Fern had been carrying from the time she’d left Dan that note overwhelmed her. He had every right to be mad, and even though she could tell he was trying to hide it, she saw anger flaring in his eyes. There was some hurt there, too, which pierced her heart. Canceling the date had been the right thing to do, but she had gone about it in the worst way possible. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “That’s not an explanation.”

  “I know.” She looked at her feet, covered in brand-new woolly socks and slippers. She was wearing thermal underwear under her dress too. But while her body felt warm, inside she was icy cold. Dan deserved more than she was giving him. They both knew that.

  “Can we sit down and talk?” she said.

  He hesitated, then nodded, but he kept his coat on. They sat down on opposite ends of the couch. “Iva said she saw you at the store yesterday,” he said. “During the time we were supposed to be on our sleigh ride.”

  She grimaced. “I had to, uh, purchase some new socks.”

  He hung his head, gave it a shake, and looked at her. “Why can’t you be honest with me? I don’t like to play games. I’ve been down that road before, and I won’t do it again. If you don’t like me, just tell me.” He heaved in a breath. “Put us both out of our misery.”

  His words broke a dam inside her, and she knew she couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer. She’d been unfair to him, and that had to stop. “I like you, Dan,” she said. She sighed. “I’ve liked you for a long time, even when you were with Miriam. I’m not proud of that, but it’s the truth.”