by Linda Byler
“When I get married, I want date pudding on my eck in a trifle bowl just like this one,” Rebekah announced, putting the final layer of whipped cream on top. Standing back, she admired her date pudding.
“That bowl was on my eck,” Mam said, putting down her paring knife to go to Rebekah’s side.
“Really, Mam?”
“Yes, it was. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? And I was so in love,” she sighed.
Date pudding was the best thing ever. Once you started eating it, you couldn’t stop until you were quite miserable. That was true. First you baked a rich, moist cake filled with dates and walnuts. Then you cooked a sauce with butter and brown sugar and chilled it in the refrigerator overnight. The next day you assembled this sticky, sweet cake in layers with the sauce and whipped cream.
Next, you crumbled the cake in the bottom of the clear, glass trifle bowl. Then you carefully spooned the rich, brown sauce over it, spreading it evenly. This was followed by a generous layer of sweet whipped cream. Then the layers were repeated.
Some people used Cool Whip, which was all right, but Mam insisted on the real thing. Whipped cream was just better.
Sadie thought about her own eck—that highly-honored corner table where the bride and groom sat after they were married in the three-hour service beforehand. It was a wondrous thing, that eck.
The designated corner was the place where long tables, set hastily against two walls, met. The bride and groom sat on folding chairs with the two couples who were members of the bridal party. The bride’s best table linens were used on the eck, as were her china, stemware, and silverware. These were gifts from the groom while they were dating. It was all color-coordinated, and each bride dreamed of her own eck as her teenage years went by.
Sadie was no different than any other young Amish girl. She thought about marriage, her wedding day, the guests, and the food, much the same as everyone else. There simply was no one for her to marry.
A career was out of the question. Being raised in an Amish home, she had only one choice, really. Well, no, two: to marry or not to marry. But being a wife and mother was the highest honor and the one goal in every young girl’s life. If you didn’t marry, you could teach school or get a job cooking or cleaning or working in a store or maybe caring for someone who was sick or disabled.
Sadie sighed as she dropped the small bits of celery and onion into a bowl.
“Here, Mam. This is ready for the stuffing,” she said.
With the girls’ help, the stuffing was made and put in the oven, and the potatoes were peeled and put on the gas burner to boil. Rebekah bent over to retrieve a head of cabbage from the crisper drawer in the refrigerator while Sadie sat tapping her fingers on the wooden table top, absentmindedly humming the same Christmas tune over and over.
“Stop that, Sadie. You’re driving me nuts!” Leah warned.
“Testy, testy,” Rebekah said.
“Hey, what am I supposed to do? I have to sit here or get around on crutches, which isn’t real easy in a kitchen filled with three other people.”
“You could get your wheelchair and set the table,” Mam said.
So Sadie did. That wasn’t easy either.
Someone had to get the plates from the hutch cupboard. Then she had to balance them on her lap as she wheeled into the dining area. She opened the oak chest containing the silverware that Dat had given Mam before they were married. She laid each piece carefully side by side on the tablecloth beside the china plates. The whole task took about twice as long as normal, leaving Sadie in no mood to seriously pitch in and help with the rest of Christmas dinner.
By eleven, the table was set with Mam’s best tablecloth and her Christmas china, which had an outline of gold along the plates’ rims with a circle of holly berries surrounding the center. They used the green stemware Mam had purchased at the Dollar General. It was exactly one dollar for one pretty glass tumbler. It was all very pretty and so grand and Christmasy, with the red and green napkins completing the picture.
The whole house smelled of the salty ham cooking in its own juices in the agate roaster in the oven of the gas stove. They mashed the potatoes with the hand-masher. Rebekah and Leah added lots of butter and salt, and then took turns pouring in hot milk until the potatoes reached the proper consistency.
Mam made the rich gravy with broth from the ham, adding a mixture of flour, cornstarch, and water. She whisked in the white liquid carefully until the gravy was thick and bubbly.
They took the pan of stuffing out of the oven and spooned it into a serving dish. The edges were brown, crisp, and salty with bits of onion and celery clinging to the sides. There was a dish of corn, yellow and succulent, with a square of butter melting so fast that no one was really sure it was there in the first place. They had grated the cabbage on a hand-held grater and mixed it with Miracle Whip, salt, sugar, and vinegar. They placed bits of red and green peppers on top for Christmas. A Tupperware container of fruit salad held maraschino cherries and kiwis, mixed in just for their colors.
The layered jello, called Christmas Salad, was made with lime green jello on the bottom, a mixture of cream cheese, milk, and Knox gelatin in the middle, and red jello on the top. It was the most perfect thing on the table—all red, green, and white and cut in shimmering squares. It looked so festive sitting on a small dish beside the green glasses.
Rebekah had baked a Christmas cake made of apples, nuts, raisins, and dates. The heavy cake, so rich and moist with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting, stood on Mam’s cake stand with the heavy glass cover.
Mam had not baked the usual pecan pies, which no one seemed to notice, and certainly no one commented on if they did. She was doing as well as she could. Sadie knew she was using up all her reserve energy and determination to keep going, joining the Christmas spirit for Reuben’s and Anna’s sakes.
After everything was put on the table, they all gathered around, slid into their chairs, and bowed their heads for a silent prayer of thanksgiving for all the food and the gift of the Baby Jesus.
They ate with enormous appetites, enjoying the rich home-cooked food unreservedly. After all, Christmas came just once a year.
Dat proclaimed the meal the best ever. He said the ham was similar to the kind he ate as a child when they butchered their own hogs and cured their own meat. He couldn’t believe this was from IGA. Mam beamed with satisfaction, her cheeks flushed with pleasure.
Reuben just grinned and grinned, eating so much it was alarming. Sadie asked him where all the food was going, and he shrugged his shoulders and grinned some more.
Reaching for his second whole wheat dinner roll, he spread it liberally with butter. Then he turned the plastic honey bear upside down and squeezed with both hands until a river of honey spread its golden stickiness across the snow-white tablecloth. That was no problem for Reuben who lowered his head to lick it off the tablecloth before being firmly reminded about good table manners. Dat’s gray eyebrows lowered in that certain way that drew instant respect.
Sadie ate two squares of Christmas Salad, ran a finger inside the belt of her dress, then eyed the date pudding.
“Go ahead,” Leah laughed, her blue eyes sparkling.
Sadie caught her eye, knowing Leah had seen that exploratory search for a measurement of her waistline. They threw back their heads and had a good old, little-girl belly laugh, one that floated up through the region of their stomachs and felt as delicious as all the good food. It was truly Christmas, a time of celebration and joy, a special time of happiness when families remembered Christ’s birth and were made glad, as in times of old.
They lingered around the table and made plans for the New Year festivities. That was the evening they had reserved for Richard Caldwell and his wife, Barbara. The Caldwells had asked for an invitation, never having visited an Amish home before. So the Miller family talked and planned ahead, knowing they would try and do their best in cooking and baking the old-fashioned way.
Reuben said Richard Caldwell
was only a human being, same as everybody else, so why would you have to go to all that trouble?
Sadie wanted to invite Jim and Dorothy, too, but it was a bit questionable whether Dorothy would be comfortable with Richard Caldwell, him being the boss and all.
Finally, the dishes were done, leftovers were put away, and snacks were set out on the counter top for all the families coming to spend the afternoon singing the German Christmas hymns. There was Chex Mix, Rice Krispie Treats, chocolate-covered peanut butter crackers, homemade chocolate fudge, peanut butter fudge, and all kinds of fruit. Vegetables and dip were arranged in a colorful display.
They had just finished when the first buggy came up the driveway, the spirited horse spraying chunks of snow with his hooves. Smiling faces entered and were greeted warmly. Soon the German hymnbooks were brought out, and Uncle Samuel’s beautiful, rich baritone filled the room with song. They sang “Shtille Nacht, Heilige Nacht,” the women’s alto voices blending perfectly. They followed that with “Freue Dich Velt.” When the volume increased, chills went up Sadie’s arms.
What a wonderful old song! The words were a clear message of joy; the assurance the Lord had come and all heaven and earth were to rejoice. It was so real and so uplifting, Sadie rose above the worry about Mam, the sadness of Ezra’s sudden death, the horror of the accident…just everything. God was in his heaven. Yes, he was! He loved all mankind enough to send the Christ Child, and for all lowly sinners, it was enough.
Sadie was ashamed of the tears that sprang to her eyes, so she got her crutches and left the room, her face turned away. They would think she was crying about Ezra, perhaps, or that she had “nerve trouble” since the accident, so it was best to keep the tears hidden.
The kitchen door banged open, depositing Reuben and three of his cousins in a wet, breathless, fast-moving, fast-talking bundle on the long, rectangular carpet inside.
“Sadie!”
She stopped, leaned on her crutches, and raised one eyebrow.
“Do you absolutely have to be so noisy?”
“Hey, Sadie! Did someone borrow Nevaeh? He’s not in his stall! He’s not in the pasture! Where is he? Did Richard Caldwell come to get him?”
Sadie leaned forward, looking sharply at Reuben.
“Reuben, stop it! It’s not funny. Of course Nevaeh’s out there somewhere. You know he is.”
“He’s not! Uncle Levi’s and Samuel’s horses are tied in his stall. Charlie is in his own. No horses were left in the pasture.”
“Was his gate broken down? Does it look as if he got out?” Sadie asked, her voice rising to a shrill squeak.
Reuben shook his head, snow spraying from his dark blue beanie.
“No! He isn’t around anywhere.”
“Go ask Samuel and Levi if he was there when they arrived.”
The singing soon stopped, and Sadie listened as she heard the boys relate their news. She heard Dat exclaim, “He was there this morning. I know he was!”
“Well, he’s not now.”
The men all trooped out to the kitchen, grabbed their coats and hats, pulled on heavy gloves and boots, and went to the barn. Sadie hobbled over to the kitchen door, her heart banging against her ribs, waiting, watching anxiously for the men’s return.
They were gone for a very long time, an eternity it seemed. Then they appeared, talking and waving their arms toward the phone shanty.
Now what?
Dat came out, spoke a few words, then hurried to the house. Sadie stepped aside as the door was flung open.
“Get your coat on. There’s a phone call for you. Think you can make it? It’s a guy.”
“What?”
“Hurry, Sadie. It’s going to take you awhile. Reuben, you go with her, make sure she’s okay”
Sadie looked up, “Nevaeh?”
“He’s not around. We’re going to search the pasture.”
Rebekah and Leah looked on worriedly as they helped Sadie into her heavy, wool coat. They watched from the dining room window as she swung herself between the crutches through the ice and snow. They didn’t relax until the door to the phone shanty was closed.
Sadie picked up the black receiver, “Hello?”
“Merry Christmas, Sadie.”
All the air left her lungs when she heard the unmistakably masculine voice of Mark Peight.
Chapter 15
“I…” WHOOSH, HER BREATH left her completely on its own accord.
“Are you there?” the deep voice queried.
“Yes, yes, I’m here. Just…catching my breath.”
“Oh, that’s right, you would have to go to the phone on your crutches.”
“Yes.”
Just “yes.” Why couldn’t she say something wittier, something a bit more knowledgeable, something smarter than just “yes”?
“I’m calling to see how you are doing. You sort of scared me there at the mall. Do you feel better?”
“Yes.”
There I go again. Yes. Why can’t I say something more?
Her heart was beating so hard and fast that there was the sound of the ocean in her ears.
“Did you know there’s a skating party at Dan Detweilers? On Friday evening?”
“Leah told me, but I can’t go with crutches.”
“When does your cast come off?”
“At least another two weeks.”
“I … what if I came to pick you up? You could stay in the buggy and watch for awhile. Your sisters could join us.”
“Mark, seriously, do you even have a horse and buggy? Where do you live? And are you Amish? For real? I mean, I don’t wish to sound ignorant, but suddenly you appear out of nowhere, not looking Amish like the rest of the young men in this area, and … well …”
She was floundering now, but she needed to know.
He laughed a deep, comfortable, rolling laugh.
Oh, she could imagine his face. She remembered every line, even the way little pleats appeared beside his brown, brown eyes when he smiled. And his teeth were so white and perfect. She could look at his face for a hundred years and never tire of it.
That thought struck her, slammed into her knowing, and she clutched the receiver tightly to steady herself. These thoughts were absolutely ridiculous.
He was talking again. She needed to hear what he was saying.
“Sadie, my life is a long story. I suppose to you, I’m a bit of a mystery.”
He paused.
She pulled her coat down over her lap, shivered.
“All right, I’ll tell you what I really want to say. I would love to sit somewhere with you and talk for a very long time. Sadie, I’m almost 30 years old. And to think of … well, I went to the hymn-singing just to see you.”
Sadie watched the afternoon light on an icicle through the phone shanty window. She straightened her covering and cleared her throat.
“I mean, I don’t really want to join the youth group. I’m too old. I’ve been through too much to … I don’t know.” His voice fell away.
And now she could not think of a word to say. Not one word.
“I guess I’m sort of messing up this conversation, Sadie.”
She loved the way he said “Sadie,” sort of dragging out the “e.” Her name became something fabulous when he said it, not just plain old Sadie.
“No, no, not at all. Are you really 30 years old?”
“Twenty-nine. I’ll be 30 in May.”
“Wow! That’s old. A lot of young men have four or five children by that time.”
He laughed again, that rolling, comfortable sound.
“Yeah. Well, not me.”
“I guess not.”
“How old are you?
“Twenty.”
“That’s good. At least you’re not 16.”
“Yes.”
“So … if I come by with my horse and buggy, which I happen to have, will you go with me to the skating party?”
Sadie searched frantically for the proper answer. Of course she would go!
But what would people say? Who was he really? She hardly knew one thing about him, other than his astounding face. Well, not just that, everything about him was astounding. From the moment he had stepped out of Fred’s truck, she had been speechless and dumb around him. How could she sit in a buggy with him? She’d prattle away like a child, or else have nothing to say. Just yes.
“I better not go.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m … not well, really.”
“Okay”
Don’t hang up. Don’t. She lurched into desperation.
“Mark, Nevaeh is missing. We … our uncles are here and they put their horses in the barn, and now Nevaeh is not in his stall. We have no idea where he is. And Mark, have you heard of the wild horses—the ones that presumably are running the ridges? The state game lands? I’m just afraid, I mean, what could possibly have happened to Nevaeh? He was in his stall this morning. Dat said he was. There is no gate broken down, no sign of a scuffle, nothing. I’m so terribly worried.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“Well, where are you? What would Dat say? I mean…”
“I’ll be over.”
Click.
Sadie held the receiver away from her ear, panic rising in her throat.
Mark! No! You can’t come here. Nobody knows you. You’re English, sort of.
Sadie sat and stared out the window at the day’s disappearing light. Her hair was a mess, her nose a shiny red, no doubt, and she had stuffed herself with all that food! Groaning inwardly she got up, swung herself through the snow, and wondered how long before he got there.
Yanking open the door to the house, she hobbled through, banged her crutches against the wall, and shrugged out of her coat without bothering to hang it up. Now if she could just get upstairs without anyone noticing, she’d be all right.
“Sadie! Who was on the phone?” This from Dat.
She kept going, hoping he wouldn’t ask again.
“Sadie! Come here. Who was on the phone?”
Resignedly, her shoulders slumped, she turned obediently into the living room.
“It was Mark Peight.”
