He took off his hat, hung it on the hat stand, then pulled the paint out of his pocket. He slid a cardboard box out from under the table and dropped the paint in with the thirty other tubes he’d bought. He slumped his shoulders and stared at the paint tubes, each a different color. Maybe the store would take them back. Maybe he’d keep them. Rose might want them someday.
Either that or he could take up a new hobby.
Honey followed him into the house and jumped onto the sofa. She propped her paws on the back of the sofa, tilted her head to one side, and looked at him. Her floppy ears dangled off her head like rags, and she seemed to be smiling at him. The sofa sat in the living room with its back to the kitchen, and Honey often perched like that to watch Josiah as he made supper for himself.
Rose’s pineapple coconut cake sat on the counter. Ach. It was his birthday. Rose had made him a cake. He pulled a fork from the drawer, speared it into the cake, and took a bite. The toasted coconut on the outside and the creamy pineapple filling on the inside made him sigh with pleasure. He’d never tasted anything quite so delicious. There was no better proof that Rose was an angel from heaven.
Rose had made him a cake. She’d come all the way from Honeybee Farm to deliver it herself. She’d laughed and smiled, and she’d liked his pumpkins. It was the best day he’d ever had.
“Happy birthday to me,” he said, taking another bite.
Maybe things weren’t so hopeless after all.
Chapter Seven
“Rose Christner, you must stop slouching,” Mammi said. “You look like a turtle hunched over like that. You’ll never get a husband if you don’t make the most of everything Gotte has given you.”
Even though she was kneading bread dough, Rose pulled her shoulders back until her shoulder blades were practically touching. Mammi had scolded her for slouching twice already today. Her back was going to kill by the time they went home.
Lily, who was mopping the kitchen floor, gave Rose a reassuring smile. Rose gave her one right back. Saturday afternoons spent at Mammi and Dawdi’s were always a bit trying on Rose’s nerves. Mammi seldom had a kind word to say, even to her beloved granddaughters, and Dawdi was constantly scrutinizing all of them to make sure they were behaving like proper and righteous Amish girls. Poppy usually got the brunt of Dawdi’s displeasure because she seldom behaved like a proper Amish girl, but that was one of the things Rose loved the most about her sister.
Poppy was brave and bold and didn’t let anyone frighten her or push her around. Rose wished she was more like Poppy, who let Mammi’s criticisms flow off her like water off a duck’s back.
The Honeybee schwesters visited their grandparents a few times a week, and on Saturdays they spent the whole afternoon there cleaning and baking for Mammi and helping Dawdi in his garden. Mammi and Dawdi lived on two acres of land in the middle of town. Dawdi had a small garden, and Mammi grew herbs for cooking. Dawdi was eighty-one years old, worn out and bent over with age. Maybe his knobby back was the reason Mammi was so adamant that Rose stand up straight.
Rose often studied Mammi’s face in hopes of catching a glimpse of her mother. Mammi was almost ten years younger than Dawdi, and she looked as young as Dawdi looked old. Her light brown hair had only a few streaks of gray, and her wrinkles congregated around her eyes and mouth, leaving the rest of her skin smooth and soft. Rose thought she was a very pretty woman. Had her mamm been pretty like that?
Mammi stood at the threshold to the kitchen and inspected Lily’s mopping and Rose’s kneading. “You didn’t sweep well, Lily. You’re slapping around all sorts of crumbs with your mop.”
“Sorry, Mammi,” Lily said. “I’ll make sure there are no crumbs left when I’m done.”
Lily and Rose never argued with Mammi. If she said they were wiping down walls or washing clothes the wrong way, they simply agreed with her and tried to better follow her instructions. That was probably why Poppy spent her time in the garden with Dawdi. Dawdi didn’t approve of Poppy’s behavior, but he would have to be blind not to see how gute she was with the plants. His tomatoes always grew better when Poppy tended them, even with her hand in a cast.
Keeping her shoulder blades tightly together, Rose separated the dough into pans and covered the loaves with a dishtowel to rise. Three loaves to carry Mammi and Dawdi through to next week. Maybe Josiah could use a loaf of bread to carry him through his week. She’d have to make him a loaf or two when she got home.
Mammi propped her hands on her hips. “You didn’t give the kneading enough time, Rose. It must have plenty of air or it turns out heavy as a brick.”
Rose nodded. “Don’t worry, Mammi. I kneaded them extra, just the way you like.”
“I hope so. I won’t have my bread ruined. You seem not quite yourself today.”
“I do?”
“You would have forgotten the salt if I hadn’t reminded you. You’re usually so careful.”
Rose washed the sticky dough off her hands and then set to work on the counter caked with flour. What was Mammi talking about? She wasn’t distracted in the least. It was just a normal Saturday, like every other Saturday they’d spent at Mammi’s. The day before had been a normal Friday, spent baking cakes and running errands and crying like a baby in front of Josiah Yoder.
She forgot about her shoulder blades and felt her face get warm. Josiah had seen her cry so many times, he probably feared she would dry up and blow away. That’s probably why he kept trying to give her water.
Still, he hadn’t made fun of her or run as fast as he could in the other direction. Maybe he hadn’t even pitied her.
Next to her sisters and Aunt Bitsy, Josiah was probably the kindest person Rose had ever met. At the funeral, he might have felt nothing but anger and hurt, but she’d never heard him say a bitter word about Levi Junior or the bishop or anyone in the gmayna. She had watched him put his arm around Levi Junior’s fater and mingle his tears with Levi’s mamm’s. He had gone to the prison to visit Levi Junior, and although few people knew, he had helped Levi Junior’s dat plant feed corn every year since the accident.
And he had very nice eyes, the color of a clear sky on a bright fall day.
He’d said he didn’t want to be her friend. But then he’d sort of said he did. He’d said he wanted to spend more time with her in hopes some of her kindness and bravery would rub off on him.
She shook her head. He didn’t know her very well if he thought she was kind or brave. In reality, she was selfish and pitiful.
What do you want, Rose?
Rose’s heart flip-flopped in her chest as she scraped the dried dough from the counter with a spatula. What did she want? Josiah made her nervous, but when she wasn’t busy worrying about disappointing him, she sort of liked being with him. He acted as if he was truly interested in what she had to say, and it was endearing the way he thought he could fix things when he couldn’t. He was unfailingly patient with his nephews and too hard on himself when he made a mistake. She even liked the feel of his hand when he helped her cross furrows.
Ach, du lieva. Her heart felt as if it were galloping around Lily’s newly mopped floor.
“Rose, you’re making a mess of that apron,” Mammi said.
Lily rinsed out the mop in the sink and set it on the back porch. “That’s what aprons are for, Mammi.”
“Cum, girls.” Mammi tiptoed across Lily’s damp floor, took Rose’s hand, and tugged her in the direction of the living room.
“Don’t slip, Mammi,” Lily said. “The floor’s wet yet.”
Mammi waved her hand in the air. “Rose won’t let me fall.” She reached out her hand to Lily. “Cum and sit. Your dawdi wants to have a talk with you.”
Rose’s heart sank. Dawdi only wanted to talk when he felt compelled to call his granddaughters to repentance. Rose had heard enough from Aunt Bitsy to know that Dawdi had been a very harsh fater. Salome, Rose’s mamm, had been the “gute” daughter, never sticking a toe out of line, embracing the Ordnung with all her heart. Aunt B
itsy had been the “rabble-rouser”—probably much like Poppy—and Dawdi had withheld his approval and his love.
Bitsy and Salome had loved each other fiercely, despite how their parents had treated them. Salome had watched out for Bitsy and defended her against their fater’s wrath. Rose had always wanted to be like her mamm—good, kind, and brave—even though Rose was too flawed to ever measure up.
It made Rose’s heart hurt to think that Aunt Bitsy hadn’t found much love in her own home. It was why she had jumped the fence and lived as an Englischer for twenty years. But she was so devoted to her sister that she was willing to come back to the gmayna and raise her nieces. It had been Salome’s dying wish.
Rose said a prayer of thanks every night for Aunt Bitsy. If Bitsy hadn’t loved Salome so much and hadn’t wanted to honor her wishes, Rose and her sisters would have been raised by Dawdi and Mammi. She couldn’t bear to imagine how much worse off they would have been.
Mammi led them into the living room and directed them to sit on the sofa. She went back into the kitchen, tiptoeing all the way. Lily raised her eyebrows at Rose and sighed. She knew a lecture was coming too, but unless they stood up and sneaked out of the house, they were stuck.
Mammi returned to the living room, carrying the plate of honey cookies that Rose and Lily had brought this afternoon. “Have a cookie,” Mammi said.
“But Mammi,” Lily protested, “we brought these cookies for you and Dawdi.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” Mammi said. “We’ll get fat if we eat all these. None of you girls are fat. Yet. With all the goodies your Aunt Bitsy makes, it’s a true miracle. You won’t get husbands if you get fat.”
Dawdi opened the front door and hobbled into the room with the help of his cane. Poppy followed close behind making sure Dawdi didn’t pitch backward and fall down the porch steps. She gave Rose a resigned smirk, as if she knew what was coming as well as Rose and Lily did.
Dawdi took off his hat to reveal a full head of snowy-white hair. His unruly horseshoe beard hung down past the first two buttons of his tan work shirt. Rose had always loved that beard. It made her think of white, billowy clouds and newly fallen snow.
In the last couple of years, Dawdi had developed a wheeze in his lungs. It was especially noticeable when he breathed heavily, like after he worked in the garden and then climbed up the porch steps. He hung his hat on the hook by the door and heaved a great sigh before lowering himself to his threadbare chair that he had probably owned since he and Mammi got married. “Priscilla, sit there by your sisters,” he said, motioning to the sofa.
Poppy frowned in a good-natured sort of way, folded her arms, and sat down by Rose. Lily and Poppy often placed Rose between them so she would be protected on either side. Rose looked down at her hands. They always had Rose in mind, no matter where they went or what they did. To them, it was the way they had always done things. Putting Rose’s needs before their own was almost as natural as breathing. They didn’t seem to resent her or even wish she were different, but Rose felt the sting of it. Her sisters sacrificed so much for her without even knowing it, and Rose had come to expect it. How selfish she had become.
Mammi handed each of the girls a cookie and sat next to Dawdi in her rocker.
“First of all,” Dawdi said, “have you girls been good this week? Have you said your prayers and repented of your sins?”
All three of them nodded. “Jah, Dawdi,” Lily said. “We have been trying to be gute girls.”
Dawdi seemed pleased even though he asked that same question every week, and they always gave him the same answer. “Gute. I will never stop worrying about that.” He scooted to the front of his chair and leaning both hands on his cane. “Now then. Have you had any more trouble on your farm since the fire?”
Poppy glanced at Lily. “They slashed the door of our buggy. Josiah and Luke took it to the shop and got it fixed.”
Dawdi couldn’t have frowned any harder. “Is anything being done to find out who it is? Have you seen any strangers lurking on the farm?”
Poppy squeezed Rose’s hand, for sure and certain to comfort her. She was embarrassed that she needed it, but she was grateful for Poppy’s firm hand. “Dan Kanagy found a pocketknife that we think one of them dropped. Josiah Yoder says Amos King sells them at the harness shop. Amos is going to make a list of all the people he remembers buying that knife. The neighbor boy who lives behind us also saw a car parked on the edge of our clover field a few nights ago. Brown and rusted, like the one that rolled my hand up in its window. He said if he sees it again, he’ll get a license plate number.”
Rose eyed Poppy in confusion. “I didn’t know that.”
“Josiah told Dan, and Dan told us,” Poppy said, almost too matter-of-factly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rose said, even though she already knew the answer.
Poppy patted Rose’s hand as if that made everything all better. “We didn’t want you to be upset.”
Dawdi pointed his cane at Rose. “That’s right. We don’t want you to be upset.”
Rose lowered her eyes.
“I’m sure we will find out who is doing all the damage,” Lily said. “They can’t hide forever.”
Dawdi sat back in his chair. “Maybe all this trouble is Gotte’s will. Perhaps He is trying to tell Elizabeth to repent. Sometimes He speaks in a still small voice, sometimes He speaks through earthquake and fire. You girls are being punished for your aendi’s sins. It is time you came to live with us and let Bitsy bear the consequences for her own choices.”
Rose’s chest tightened painfully. She longed to defend Aunt Bitsy, to make Dawdi see how wrong he was. But she couldn’t speak.
“Dawdi,” Poppy said, lifting her chin. “Was Job a wicked man?”
“Nae, but King David was. Gotte took his son as punishment for his evil deeds.”
“What about Jeremiah or Paul? Did they get what they deserved?”
Dawdi scrunched his lips together like he always did when he refused to admit he was losing an argument. “I’ve heard talk that the deacon paid you a visit. It is a very serious thing when the deacon comes to your house. I don’t wonder but Elizabeth gave him reason to shun you yet.”
Dawdi never had a nice thing to say about Aunt Bitsy. They all tried to bite their tongues when Dawdi talked like that, but Poppy usually ended up in an argument with him. It did no good. Dawdi would never admit that Aunt Bitsy was one of the best Amish women who’d ever lived in the community. Lily and Poppy both grabbed on to Rose’s hands at the same time. She only felt more ashamed of herself that they thought she was so weak.
“Aunt Bitsy explained everything to the deacon,” Lily said. “He understands the situation and said we won’t be shunned.”
“That is gute news. We wouldn’t want to be forced to shun our own closest relatives.” Dawdi squinted as if trying to bring his granddaughters into focus. He never wore his glasses when he worked outside. “Now, Lily. You broke up with Paul Glick over a month ago. I’ve been patient, hoping you would see the error of your ways and go back to him on your own. Paul Glick has come to visit three times since you rejected him. He still loves you and would gladly marry you if only you will humble yourself like a gute Amish frau. He’s from a very gute family. His dat is a minister.”
Rose felt Lily and Poppy tense beside her. She was tenser than both of them.
“A gute income too,” Mammi said. “You are twenty-two years old, Lily. You can’t reject someone as willing as Paul Glick. You might never get married.”
“I’ve already told you,” Lily said. “I don’t want to marry Paul Glick.”
Dawdi’s squint got narrower until his eyes were mere slits on his face. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to put my foot down. You will give Paul Glick another chance or you’ll not be allowed in our house again.”
Mammi put her hand to her mouth. “But, Sol, who will mop my floor?”
Rose held her breath. Dawdi couldn’t force Lily to do anything, especially not m
arry someone she didn’t want to marry. It wasn’t the Amish way. But the thought of Dawdi trying to force Paul on Lily made Rose ill.
To Rose’s amazement, Lily seemed unruffled. Rose was shaking in her shoes, and Dawdi wasn’t even talking to her.
“He doesn’t treat me like a boy should treat the girl he loves. Don’t you want me to marry someone who will love me like Christ loves his church?”
Not only was Lily very brave, but she spoke sense. Surely Dawdi would want his granddaughters to be treated well. Surely Mammi would want her floors mopped every week.
“Paul is from a gute family. Die youngie don’t know what is gute for them,” Dawdi said.
Lily sighed. “Dan Kanagy is from a very gute family too.”
Dawdi smoothed his hand through his beard. “No denying that. The Glicks have had a bone to pick with the Kanagys for many years, but I’ve seen nothing but kindness from John Kanagy. I assume his son is the same. Are you telling me you’re interested in Dan Kanagy?”
“Maybe,” Lily said. Lily wanted to keep her engagement a secret until they were published in church in September.
“What if he’s not interested in you? A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” Dawdi said.
Still as calm as the lake in the summer, Lily stood and knelt between Dawdi’s chair and Mammi’s rocker. “I hate to speak ill of anyone, but Paul knew he wasn’t paying me enough for our honey. I found a buyer who paid me four times as much.”
Dawdi frowned. “You must have misunderstood. You’re mad at Paul because he speaks the truth about your Aunt Bitsy. You should find it in your heart to forgive him.”
Lily let out a slow breath and went back to her place on the sofa. “I have forgiven him, Dawdi. I just don’t want to marry him.”
Mammi looked as if someone had carved a line between her brows. “But what if you never get married? Do you want to end up an old maedle like Bitsy?”
“I’d rather be single than married to Paul,” Lily said. “And you can’t make me marry him. If you won’t allow me in the house anymore, that is your choice, but your floors will get wonderful dirty.”
Like a Bee to Honey Page 11
