Her heart pounded wildly until they opened the door. Aunt Bitsy kneaded bread at the counter, Farrah Fawcett lounged on her window seat, and Leonard Nimoy chased a puff of lint around the kitchen. Josiah wasn’t here, and it surprised Rose at how profoundly disappointed she felt. She took a deep breath and willed her heart to beat normally. Josiah didn’t usually spend his Saturday afternoons on the Honeybee Farm. Why should today be any different?
Aunt Bitsy kneaded dough with more force and enthusiasm than anybody Rose knew, huffing and puffing as if she’d just sprinted a country mile. She was also sporting a new hair color. “You’re back,” she said.
“B,” Poppy said. “You dyed your hair while we were gone.”
“Very pretty,” Lily said. “I like it. It looks like sunshine.”
Aunt Bitsy raised a sticky, flour-caked hand and swatted away Lily’s compliment. “The package calls it ‘daisy yellow,’ but now that it’s on, I think it looks more like urine. I’m redoing it tonight.”
“Aunt Bitsy,” Rose said, “you didn’t need to start the bread. I don’t mind making it.”
Aunt Bitsy kept up her energetic kneading. “I had a few extra minutes after my other chores. I don’t mind.”
Rose didn’t want to seem too eager, but she had to ask. “Was . . . was Josiah here?”
Aunt Bitsy halted her kneading as if someone had turned off a switch. “Jah.” Her lips twitched upward. “Can’t you see he fixed the porch?”
“What was wrong with it?”
“A floorboard was loose. He tried to hammer it down and almost broke his shin. Then he decided duct tape would work just as well.”
Poppy glanced at Rose. “Oh. Well. It looks very—”
Aunt Bitsy erupted like a geyser. “Where’s Luke when I need him?”
“You don’t like Luke,” Poppy said.
“I don’t.” Aunt Bitsy growled. “But I need him. Josiah Yoder wouldn’t know a plunger from a potato.”
Rose eyed Bitsy doubtfully. “You didn’t . . . did you tell him that?”
“Nae, of course not.” Aunt Bitsy took her butcher knife and slammed it into the bread dough twice, cutting it into three nearly identical globs. She was very accurate with that knife. “Josiah is an orphan and he’s trying so hard, and I don’t have the heart to hurt his feelings.”
“You never care about Luke’s feelings,” Poppy said, tempering her words with a smile. Luke didn’t seem too upset about the way Aunt Bitsy talked to him, so Poppy obviously wasn’t either.
Aunt Bitsy waved her butcher knife in the air. “That’s because Luke Bontrager is too big for his britches. That boy couldn’t be cut down to size with a pair of heavy-duty pruning shears.” She looked at Lily. “And Dan was so eager when he first came over, I wanted to smack him upside the head. Josiah always acts like he’s inches away from falling into the depths of despair. I have to be nice, even though it almost kills me.” As if to emphasize her point, she motioned toward the sofa. “Even if he buries my whole sofa in duct tape.”
In addition to the patch of duct tape Josiah had applied three days ago, there were two more long patches of tape on one of the sofa arms. Rose smiled. Josiah was trying his best to be thorough and conscientious.
“Leonard Nimoy is trying my patience something wonderful,” Aunt Bitsy said. “The scratching post is three inches from the sofa, and she ignores it.” She pinched her index finger and thumb together. “She’s this close to being deported.”
Rose immediately scooped Leonard Nimoy from the floor and placed a quick kiss on the top of her head. “You can’t get rid of Leonard Nimoy, Aunt Bitsy. Farrah Fawcett would be devastated.”
All four of them looked to the window seat. Farrah Fawcett lifted her head and eyed them as if she were a queen surveying her subjects.
Poppy giggled. “Jah, Farrah Fawcett seems quite attached to Leonard Nimoy.”
Rose sighed. “She wouldn’t know how much she loves Leonard Nimoy until Leonard was gone. She’d have to spend all those lonely days on the window seat without Leonard Nimoy trying to sit on her head.”
Aunt Bitsy washed her hands and took three pieces of cat food from the dish on the floor next to the window seat. “The only solution is to train them.”
“Train the cats?” Lily said.
With the cat food in one hand, Aunt Bitsy pulled a book from the bookshelf near the sofa and showed it to them. “Training the Best Dog Ever,” she read from the front cover. “A Five-Week Program Using the Power of Positive Reinforcement.”
“But they’re cats,” Poppy said.
“I know, but the library didn’t have any books on cat training, and I figured since dogs and cats are both house pets, it should work for my cats.” Aunt Bitsy scooped Farrah Fawcett from the window seat and set her down on the floor. “Rosie, bring Leonard Nimoy over here. I want to show you the trick they learned this morning.”
Rose cocked her eyebrow in curiosity and set Leonard Nimoy next to Farrah Fawcett.
Aunt Bitsy pinched a piece of cat food between her fingers and held it up just out of Farrah Fawcett’s reach. “Roll over, roll over, Farrah Fawcett,” she said, making kissing noises with her lips and waving the cat food in a circular motion above Farrah Fawcett’s head. Farrah Fawcett watched the swirling cat food for a few seconds before yawning and averting her eyes, as if such a game were beneath her. Leonard Nimoy swatted at the cat food, but it was too far over her head to reach, even when she used her hind legs to leap for it.
Aunt Bitsy lowered the cat food right in front of Farrah Fawcett’s face and extended her other hand. “Shake, Farrah Fawcett. Shake.”
Farrah Fawcett had obviously had enough childishness for one day. She eyed Aunt Bitsy with disdain, strolled to the bowl on the floor, and got her own cat food without having to do any tricks. Leonard Nimoy mewed and reached out her paw for the treat. Aunt Bitsy immediately grabbed Leonard Nimoy’s paw and shook it. She looked at her nieces and twitched her lips. “It’s slow going. I might have to send them to obedience school after the weddings.”
Rose scooped up Leonard Nimoy again. “Oh, you gute, gute kitty. You learned how to shake hands.” It never hurt to give Leonard Nimoy some encouragement. If she learned to roll over, Aunt Bitsy wouldn’t dream of getting rid of her.
Aunt Bitsy deposited the few pieces of cat food back in the bowl, gave Farrah Fawcett a smirk, and washed her hands. Then she returned to her dough and started forming it into loaves. “How was Mammi and Dawdi’s house today?” she said, as if she were asking about the weather. Aunt Bitsy never let on, but she knew perfectly well how visits usually went with Mammi and Dawdi.
Lily plopped herself into a chair at the table. “They tried to convince me to marry Paul. Dawdi threatened to bar me from the house again.”
Poppy rolled her eyes. “If only he knew how tempting that threat is.”
“I don’t think they’ll stop until I’m married,” Lily said.
“Maybe you should just tell them you’re engaged,” Rose said. It might make visits to Mammi and Dawdi’s more pleasant.
“Not yet. I want people to be surprised when we’re published in church.”
“Dan and Luke have been spending a suspiciously large amount of time over here,” Poppy said. “I think most people already suspect.”
Lily smiled. “I suppose that’s true.”
Rose snuggled Leonard Nimoy up against her chin. “They keep insisting that I come and live with them when Poppy and Lily are married. It makes me nervous.”
“You know you can’t be forced to do any such thing,” Aunt Bitsy said, covering her loaves with a dishtowel. “My dat is trying to scare you. He did it all the time when I was growing up.” Unhappy and unspoken memories traveled fleetingly across her face before she huffed and pretended they hadn’t been talking about anything important. “Ach, vell. It doesn’t matter, Rose. You are an adult. I am an adult, and there’s nothing Dat can do about it.”
Aunt Bitsy seldom talked about her childhoo
d, but Rose knew it hadn’t been a happy one. Rose felt doubly blessed. Although she had lost her parents, she’d still grown up in the happiest of homes.
Aunt Bitsy pinched Rose’s earlobes. “Try not to let him upset you. That was my problem, and it didn’t solve anything.”
“I wish I could be courageous and stand up to both of them,” Rose said. “They shouldn’t pressure Lily, and Paul should quit trying to talk them into it.”
“There are different kinds of courage, and don’t you forget it.” Aunt Bitsy’s frown sank farther into her face. “I got a letter from Wallsby today.”
Rose nodded to her aendi as if her getting a letter from Wallsby was nothing to be upset about.
Aunt Bitsy opened the pencil drawer and pulled out a letter. The back of the envelope had five Bible stickers stuck to it. Aunt Bitsy still had a few friends in Wallsby. The Honeybee sisters had lived there with their aunt for two years after their parents had died.
Aunt Bitsy pulled the letter from the envelope—two pages filled with neat handwriting in blue ink. “Edna says the girls are fine, but she hopes the rest of her babies come one at a time.”
“Oy, anyhow,” Poppy said. “I don’t think I’d survive if I had twins.”
Aunt Bitsy pinned Rose with a steady gaze. “La Wayne Zook died last week.”
Rose felt as if the wind had been knocked right out of her. She pressed her hand to her neck.
Poppy took Rose’s hand. “Cum. Sit down.”
Rose obeyed numbly, as if it were someone else Poppy was talking to and not her.
Aunt Bitsy ran her fingers along the crease in her letter. “He’d been in the hospital for almost three months when he passed. Liver failure.”
“From drinking?” Lily said softly. She was probably hoping Rose wouldn’t hear her.
Aunt Bitsy nodded. She filled a cup at the sink, brought it to the table for Rose, and sat down next to her. “This is none of your doing, Rose.”
Rose bit back a sob. “Then why do I feel so horrible?”
Poppy sat next to Lily and grabbed on to Rose’s wrist, but she didn’t have anything to say. Her sisters watched her with concern and pity in their eyes.
For sure and certain, they were glad they hadn’t testified against La Wayne Zook.
Rose clasped her hands in her lap and put that unkind thought out of her head. Her sisters would have done anything for her. They never blamed her for what had happened, even though they’d been forced to move after La Wayne went to jail.
Ach! She wished she had never known Mary Beth Zook. She wished they had never moved to Wallsby. She wished her parents hadn’t died. Dawdi said that wishing denied Gotte’s hand in their lives. Rose had learned herself that no amount of wishing or even praying would change the past.
“Now that he is dead, you don’t have to be afraid of him anymore,” Lily said.
Aunt Bitsy studied her face and frowned. “You still blame me for insisting you testify?”
Rose finally broke down. “I don’t know. How can I blame you, Aunt Bitsy? How can I blame anyone but myself?”
The memory she had tried to bury resurfaced and left her gasping for air. She and Mary Beth had been playing dolls in the Zooks’ haymow when Mary Beth’s dat had come home. It was the middle of the day, and he had been let go from his job at the greenhouse because he often went to work intoxicated.
Rose had never seen anyone drunk before, and La Wayne’s slurred speech and slow movements had frightened her. Rose and Mary Beth had been using one of the bridles in the barn as a swing for their dolls. La Wayne had yelled and cursed all the way up the ladder.
Rose clamped her eyes shut as the memory overtook her. She could still smell the pungent odor of horses and fresh-cut hay mixed with the sickly sweet scent of alcohol on La Wayne’s breath. She saw the dust motes floating in the beams of sunlight that peeked through the slats of the barn and felt Mary Beth’s breath against her cheek as they clutched each other and huddled behind a bale of hay. And most of all, she remembered the sounds—La Wayne’s slurred, threatening words as he climbed the ladder, coming closer with every heartbeat, Mary Beth’s crying, apologizing to her dat again and again, the sound of Rose’s own whimpers as La Wayne snarled at her.
Rose flinched and rubbed her hand up and down her arm, the arm La Wayne had broken when he’d shoved her from the haymow and she’d tumbled onto a pile of straw on the barn floor. He’d been pulling Mary Beth’s hair. She couldn’t cower behind the hay bale and let him hurt her very best friend in the world.
What haunted her most was La Wayne’s tortured expression when he realized what he had done. He’d bolted down the ladder—afraid he’d killed her—and snatched her out of the pile of straw. He had grabbed her arms and shaken her until she started breathing again. The pain in her arm had been like fire. The terror in her heart had never completely subsided.
He was the one who had carried her into the house and sent one of his boys to fetch Aunt Bitsy. He was the one who had apologized again and again as Rose lay on Mary Beth’s bed sobbing in fear and pain while she waited for Aunt Bitsy to come and get her. Mary Beth’s mater—Rose couldn’t even remember her name—had brought Rose a cool rag for her forehead. She had shushed Rose, pleading with her to stay quiet. “You won’t tell anyone what happened, will you? That’s a gute girl. Mary Beth’s dat loses his temper sometimes, and he is very sorry. You’ll be a gute girl and keep our secret.”
Oh, how she wished she had done as she had been told.
Aunt Bitsy had clutched Rose to her bosom in the hospital and squeezed the wind right out of her. Because the thought of losing one of her girls had made her resolute, she had called the police, and they’d arrested La Wayne right there at his home, in front of his children. The bishop had insisted that La Wayne’s drinking was a church matter and that the church would handle it. He’d said it was a sin to take a fater from his family. Aunt Bitsy had sent Rose upstairs when the bishop had come, but Poppy and Lily had pulled the bed out from the wall so all three of them could listen to the conversation through the air vent. Bitsy had been firm with the bishop and even more insistent with the police.
Rose’s testimony sent La Wayne to prison for three years. The entire community had been shaken. Women refused to talk to Bitsy at gmay or invite her to quilting bees or canning frolics, and none of the Honeybee sisters had been allowed to play with anybody else’s children. When it came time for school in the fall, the deacon had told Aunt Bitsy that her nieces were not welcome in class until they repented and let La Wayne come home.
It was then that Bitsy decided to move to Bienenstock—close to her parents, and far enough away from Wallsby that they could start over.
Aunt Bitsy wrapped her arms all the way around Rose. “Maybe my heart was full of revenge, but I would do it again if I had to. La Wayne Zook hurt my baby girl. I would have faced a whole roomful of bishops to defend you.”
“But what was done was done. My arm was already broken. Enough bad things had already happened.” Rose leaned her head on Aunt Bitsy’s shoulder. “We should have forgiven him and let it be.”
“But, baby sister, how many more times would La-Wayne have hurt his own children if he hadn’t gone to jail? Have you thought about the children you saved by testifying against him?”
“You didn’t testify to get revenge,” Lily said. “You testified to help children like Mary Beth and her brothers, even though they couldn’t see it.”
“But he was so sorry, and a family lost a fater.”
“It was his choice to throw you to the ground like that. You could have died.” Aunt Bitsy shuddered. “Gotte gave you a soft place to land.”
“I was okay.”
Aunt Bitsy cupped her hand over Rose’s cheek. “You weren’t okay, Rosie. It’s only been in the last year that you haven’t had a nightmare every night.” Her eyes flared with emotion. “In many ways, he stole your childhood.”
“I’ve forgiven him.”
“Ach, baby sis
ter, I know you have, but it’s hard to leave the damage behind, even with such a forgiving heart. I pray every day that you’ll leave your fear by the side of the road, but I wish you’d never had to carry it in the first place.”
Rose placed her hand over Aunt Bitsy’s. “The gute and the bad that have happened to me have been Gotte’s will. I don’t like being afraid, but the fear is part of who I am. I would never dare question Gotte’s plan.” She reached into her apron pocket to find a tissue. It was empty. Where was Josiah when she needed him?
Lily snatched a tissue from the box on the counter and handed it to Rose.
“The person you haven’t forgiven is yourself,” Aunt Bitsy said.
Rose concentrated very hard on the wood grain in the table. “Josiah said I deserve to be happy.”
“I like him more and more all the time,” Aunt Bitsy said. “Even if he’s used all my duct tape.”
“But how can I be truly happy when I tore a man from his wife and sent him to prison? La Wayne’s whole family has been affected by that choice. How can I be free of that?”
“Because La Wayne made his choices too.” Aunt Bitsy leaned back in her chair. “La Wayne had just as much opportunity to be happy as you. It’s not your fault that he chose misery.” Aunt Bitsy scooted out from under the table, and her chair screeched along the wood floor like a semi trying to stop at a red light. “Let’s start dinner.”
The sisters stood, and Lily and Poppy each gave Rose a giant hug. “I agree with Josiah,” Lily said. “You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
Poppy nodded. “So does Josiah. He’s had his share of heartaches in his life, and he is such a gute boy.”
“Jah,” Rose said. “I want Josiah to be happy. I want everybody to be happy. Even Paul Glick.”
Lily giggled. “I think Paul is happiest when he gets himself worked up into a fit of righteous indignation. We’ve given him lots to be indignant about. He’s happy.”
Poppy pulled four plates from the cupboard. “What’s for dinner, Aunt B?”
Like a Bee to Honey Page 15
