“Almost twenty pounds,” Linda said. “As solid as a tub of lard.” She hefted little Jacob into her arms. “Do you remember Aendi Cassie, Jacob?”
Jacob shoved his finger in his mouth and eyed Cassie as if he’d never seen her before. Nope. He didn’t remember.
“What do you think of her hair?” Norman asked Linda.
“A lot of Englisch girls wear their hair like that,” Linda said, apparently unwilling to say anything good or bad about it.
Resisting the urge to defend herself, Cassie handed Paul back to Norman and squatted next to her niece. “Priscilla, you have grown so tall since last Christmas.”
Priscilla remembered her. She threw her arms around Cassie’s neck for a hug and then pulled away and twined her finger around a lock of Cassie’s hair. “Pretty,” she said.
Mamm took Priscilla’s hand and tugged her away from Cassie. “Nae, Scilla. It isn’t pretty. It’s vain. Vanity is a sin, and don’t you forget it.”
Cassie longed to point out that unkindness was a sin too, but Mamm prided herself on always telling the truth and in her mind she was only protecting her granddaughter from the influences of a wicked world.
Cassie winced. The pain of her mother’s condemnation still stung after eight years. Still, the hurt wasn’t the open wound it used to be. And she always had Mammi and Dawdi who loved her no matter what.
Cassie’s younger brother Luke entered carrying what must have been their dinner. With a pot holder wrapped around each handle, he hefted one Dutch oven in each hand. Luke, tall like Dawdi and sturdy like an oak, was the one the family called on for heavy lifting.
“Stew and cherry cobbler,” Luke said, lifting each Dutch oven in turn and giving her a half smile as if wanting her to know he was happy to see her but not wanting to offend Mamm by being too happy.
“It’s wonderful gute to see you, Luke. You’re getting blacksmith arms.”
He didn’t even try to hold back the grin that overspread his face. “I hope so. Nobody trusts a scrawny blacksmith.”
“She cut her hair,” Norman said, refusing to let his indignation die a welcome death. The Apostle Paul said long hair was a woman’s glory, and Amish women didn’t cut their hair from the day they were born to the day they died. That Cassie had cut and styled her hair understandably upset her letter-of-the-law brother.
Luke fell silent and stared at her with a mixture of affection, pity, and irritation in his eyes. Cassie wasn’t altogether sure if he was directing the irritation at her or Norman. Maybe it didn’t matter.
Mammi didn’t let them wallow in the uncomfortable silence. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Some sort of wall seemed to come down, and everyone moved to get dinner on the table. After setting the Dutch ovens on the stove, Luke went to the cellar and brought up four extra chairs and the leaf to the table all at the same time. Cassie and Priscilla quickly set plates and silverware, while Linda opened a bottle of chowchow and heated up some green beans and Mamm stirred the contents of one of the Dutch ovens.
Despite the disapproving looks Mamm gave her every time they passed, it was the kind of activity Cassie remembered fondly—the whole family working together to get dinner on the table. The Englisch were worried about getting ahead at the expense of precious relationships. A gaping loneliness yawned in the pit of Cassie’s stomach as it always did when she thought of her Amish roots. She didn’t belong here, but nowhere else seemed like home.
She sat between Dawdi and Mammi as the others took their places around the table. All except Mamm. She stood next to her chair as if waiting for someone to pull it out for her.
“I ain’t never found it very comfortable to eat while standing,” Dawdi said.
Mamm squinched her eyebrows together and glared at Cassie. “This is disgraceful, and I won’t sit until it’s made right.”
Dawdi rubbed his hand down the side of his face. Cassie tensed. Just what specifically did Mamm find unacceptable? Cassie had left the community without being baptized, so the strict rules of shunning didn’t apply to her. While shunned members were required to sit at a separate table to take their meals, she felt comfortable eating at the same table with her family.
“Is there something wrong with the stew?” Mammi said. “Did you use Mary Schrock’s recipe? She adds too much paprika.”
“I refuse to pray at the same table with Cassie unless she puts on her prayer covering.”
Cassie pushed down the hurt, pressed her lips together, and stifled the urge to sigh.
Mammi’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she reached over and patted Cassie’s hand under the table. “Very well,” she said. “I don’t mind if you stand.”
Norman’s chair screeched against the floor as he pushed it back and stood. He’d probably forgotten for a minute how indignant he should be and had accidentally sat down before consulting Mamm. “I would like Cassie to wear a covering too, as an example to my children.”
Mammi scolded her eldest daughter with her eyes. “We discussed it earlier and decided that eight billion people are not going to hell.”
Mamm frowned. “It’s not seemly to pray uncovered. I fear for Cassie’s soul.”
“Maybe you should fear for your stew,” Mammi said. “Mary Schrock is a dear girl but doesn’t know the first thing about using paprika in moderation.”
The tension in the room felt like a gas leak that only needed a careless spark to ignite. Linda stared faithfully at her plate while Luke’s glance darted between Cassie and Mamm. Only baby Paul was oblivious to the drama. He sat in his high chair and banged his little hand on the tray.
Cassie didn’t want to be responsible for ruining dinner. She’d certainly brought her mamm enough heartache. If donning a prayer kapp would cool Mamm’s temper, she’d gladly agree to it.
It had always been that way. She would have done anything to keep the peace—except for the little matter of her leaving the church.
“It’s all right, Mammi,” Cassie said. “I like paprika. And I will put on a kapp if that’s what Mamm wants.”
“It’s not what I want. It’s what God wants.”
Cassie didn’t feel the need to respond. She could still hear Mamm lecturing her as she went into Mammi’s room to find a kapp. Mammi surely had three or four extras, and hopefully she wouldn’t mind if Cassie rummaged through her drawers. After finding a kapp in Mammi’s top drawer, she pinned her short hair into an awkward bun and placed the kapp on her head. She didn’t mind wearing the prayer covering. It reminded her of happy days on the farm when Dat was alive and Mamm hadn’t disapproved of everything she did.
Mammi’s maroon dress hung on a hook by her bed. Should she put on the whole outfit for good measure? Mamm was bound to complain about Cassie’s jeans and cardigan. Might as well wear Mammi’s extra dress and a pair of black stockings and quit offending people.
The dress was a tad short. After all, Cassie stood eight inches taller than her mammi. Mammi measured wider than Cassie so the extra material added a little length to the dress. She tied a black apron around her waist and hoped Mammi didn’t mind that Cassie played dress-up in her clothes. The outfit sagged in places, but Mamm would probably be satisfied.
They were waiting patiently and quietly for her, except for baby Paul who had added squeaking to his banging. When Cassie ambled down the hall looking like a proper Amish girl, Mamm smirked, as if Cassie had finally come around to her way of thinking. Cassie sighed inwardly. Did she make matters worse by giving in to Mamm’s demands?
Mamm sat down without another word. Norman sat too, although he looked as hostile as ever, as if he allowed Cassie at the table reluctantly.
They followed Dawdi in bowing their heads for silent grace. Cassie nearly chuckled at the thought that Norman would probably peek to see if she closed her eyes like everyone else. No doubt he thought her a heathen now, even though she attended church faithfully every Sunday. Just not Amish services.
Once they’d said grace, Mamm dished up the
stew from the Dutch oven. Mamm wasn’t a great cook, but she wasn’t bad like Mammi, and her stew was one of the best things she made. Cassie’s stomach growled. In her haste to get out of Chicago, she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
“When do you have to be back to school, Cassie?” Linda asked while blowing on Jacob’s bowl of stew.
“School?” Mamm scowled. “All she does is look at naked pictures all day.”
Cassie felt her face get warm at Mamm’s stubbornness. Cassie had explained her major to Mamm several times, but Mamm chose to deliberately misunderstand her because it gave her something else to beat Cassie over the head with.
Cassie pressed a carefree smile onto her lips. It felt so stiff, she thought her face might crack. Avoid contention at all costs. “You’re such a tease, Mamm. My subject is art history.”
“Art history,” Mamm growled under her breath. “Will art history help you make bread or sew dresses or have babies?”
Cassie waited patiently while Mamm dished out stew. She was going to make a point to serve her last. “I’m finished with my bachelor’s degree,” Cassie said, just in case anyone cared. Well, anyone besides Mammi and Dawdi. “I graduated in December.”
Luke looked as if he’d like to smile wider, if only he could get Mamm’s permission. “Congratulations, Cassie. That’s a great accomplishment.”
Mamm harrumphed. “A boy wants a girl who can cook and give him babies, not one who doesn’t have any skills.”
Dawdi placed a comfortable arm around Cassie’s shoulder. “When I married Annie, I didn’t care if she could cook or sew. Good enough for me that she was the prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on.”
“Now, Felty,” Mammi said.
“It was extra gute that she was also feisty and smart and stubborn. I feel like God favored me over every other boy in town.”
Mammi giggled. “Now, Felty.”
Mamm finally got around to filling Cassie’s bowl with stew. “You’re my daughter. You about broke my heart when I heard you were staying with my parents instead of with me. You don’t even have the decency to come home. What have I done to deserve such an ungrateful child?”
For the sake of keeping the peace, Cassie remained silent. If Mamm didn’t already know the answer to her own question, Cassie wouldn’t enlighten her.
Mammi skewered some green beans onto her plate. “She’s going to be here at least three months to help me out after my surgery and to study for the G test.”
“The G test?” Luke said, trying to show interest and look disinterested at the same time.
“It’s the GRE test. I want to work for a year, go to graduate school, and be a museum curator someday.” It sounded so important. So lonely. Was it strange that Cassie had left the Amish way of life but longed for some of its joys, like marriage and motherhood? Her school friends were positively horrified when she had told them she wanted six or seven kids.
Mamm set the lid back on the Dutch oven. “More naked pictures, that’s all.”
“There’s a benefit haystack supper in two weeks at the old warehouse,” Luke said. “You should come. Everyone would love to see you again.”
Not really.
Mamm wagged her spoon in Cassie’s direction. “But don’t come in Englisch clothes. You’ll embarrass the family.”
“Now, Esther,” Mammi said. “Cassie hasn’t embarrassed the family yet. Menno Zook poked himself in the face with a ruler and got a black eye. Perry Bontrager left his shoes in the stove to dry and ended up cooking them. That’s embarrassing.”
Norman raised his head and glanced at Mamm. “Elmer Lee will be there. He’s selling a pair of plows.”
Cassie nearly choked on a potato. It seemed that every conversation with her family somehow got around to Elmer Lee Kanagy, the boy most likely to lure Cassie back to the fold.
A year before Cassie had left home, immovable, dependable Elmer Lee had started coming around, paying her weekly visits, taking her on buggy rides, driving her home from gatherings. She had liked him for his quiet, steady manner, but even at seventeen, Cassie had felt herself being called in a different direction. She could never have been the ordinary Amish girl Elmer Lee wanted. She warned him six months before she actually went away, but he hadn’t stopped coming around until the day she left for good.
Mamm smiled for the first time since she’d set foot in Mammi’s house. “He’s not married yet, Cassie, and he’s got his own farm.”
“And tall,” Norman added. “I’ll bet he’s grown four inches in the last eight years.”
Cassie took a long drink of water. “I’m glad. Eight years ago, he was only five and a half feet.”
“Some boys are late bloomers,” Mammi said.
“He bloomed mighty gute,” Mamm said.
Cassie gave her mamm a smile because that was what was expected. “I’ll come to the benefit supper,” she said. “But Elmer Lee has certainly lost interest.” Mamm didn’t need to know that Cassie had absolutely no interest in Elmer Lee whether he had lost interest or not. If she’d been interested, she wouldn’t have left years ago. Let Mamm scheme all she wanted. How hard would it be to fend off Elmer Lee and any other Amish boy Mamm wanted to foist on her?
Mamm acted like a balloon ready to pop. “What’s his favorite color? Does anyone know his favorite color?”
Cassie put her head down and pretended to concentrate on buttering her bread. She’d hold her head high, go to that benefit supper, and come home without a boyfriend, and Mamm wouldn’t be around to nag her about it. It was why she’d chosen to stay with Mammi and Dawdi. She could retreat to the safety of their home without the fear of having any unwanted boys pushed on her. Mammi and Dawdi wouldn’t dream of trying to match her with some unsuspecting Amish boy. They understood her better than that.
Thank goodness for her grandparents.
She was safe.
Chapter Three
Zach Reynolds pulled into one of the reserved parking spots at the hospital, slid the new beanie onto his head, and wrapped the bright red scarf around his neck before jumping out of the car. Living in Wisconsin was a daily reminder of why he liked California so much. The traffic might have been horrible, the property values inflated, and the crowds suffocating, but the weather felt like being in paradise 365 days a year. So far, this Wisconsin winter wasn’t nearly as severe as a January in Chicago, but compared to California, Shawano seemed positively frigid.
“Good morning, Dr. Reynolds.”
Stacey, one of the nurses at the hospital, strutted past him on the way to her car. Zach smiled to himself. He loved being called “doctor.” He’d waited for the title all his life, and now he deserved it. His dad would have been so proud.
Stacey slowed and trained her eyes on him, letting her hips sway in a wide arc as she passed. No doubt she did the hip thing for his benefit. If she had attempted that much swing in the hospital, she would have knocked over every cart, IV stand, and orderly unfortunate enough to be standing in her path.
“Hey, Stacey. Just get off?”
“No more night shifts this week. I’ll be sitting at home bored out of my mind if you want some company.”
Zach merely flashed a smile and looked away as if he had somewhere very important he needed to be—which he did. Stacey was cute, a little forward, but cute. He just didn’t want to expend all that emotional energy on her.
He knew what his mother would say. Zach, you’ve got to save yourself for that one special girl. He shook his head. If only she knew. He was already beyond saving, in more ways than one. College could do that to a guy. What fraternity ever encouraged something as old-fashioned as morals?
He still occasionally heard his pastor’s voice in his head whenever he contemplated doing something sinful. Sometimes, even now, his upbringing and what he used to believe got in the way of his life.
Even with Anna Helmuth’s beanie pulled tightly over his ears, he heard soft crying coming from somewhere behind him. Following the direction of t
he sound around the corner of the building, he discovered a little girl standing alone on the sidewalk that ran alongside the busy street behind the hospital. She couldn’t have been more than four or five years old. The tears trickled down her face, and she shivered violently with cold. A black scarf covered her head, and her chestnut hair was gathered into a bun at the base of her neck. She wore a thin black coat over a pastel yellow dress with long black socks and black tennis shoes. She must have been Amish. Normal kids didn’t dress like that.
The minute she caught sight of Zach, she began wailing in earnest. He was, after all, a stranger, a male, and a terrifying giant to someone so small. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he said in the most calming voice he could muster.
Her screaming dropped a few decibels in volume. She still cried, but at least she hadn’t turned from him and bolted into the street. He’d hate to have to push her out of the way of a speeding bus. He’d rather not be run over this early in the morning.
He took three steps toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help. Are you lost?”
She didn’t answer, so he took a few more tentative steps. He didn’t want to terrify the poor thing. She was certainly frightened out of her wits already. Getting close enough to kneel next to her, he took the scarf from his neck and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was thick and extra long and would lend her a little warmth until he could coax her inside. He immediately felt icy dampness from the sidewalk seep through his pant leg. Since the recent snow, the sidewalks had been shoveled and salted but they were still wet. He’d have a nice damp spot on his knee for the rest of the morning.
“Are you lost?” he asked again. “It’s cold out here.” He held out his hand. “Do you want to come inside? I’ll help you find your mommy.”
Zach didn’t know what he said, but the girl’s uncontrollable sobbing began again in earnest. He considered picking her up and carrying her into the hospital, but he’d probably be accused of kidnapping and sentenced to five years in prison.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I just want to help. Let’s go inside and find your family. What’s your name?”
Huckleberry Hearts Page 3
