by Jerry Eicher
Both of them jumped when Mose hollered, “I’m back!”
Marcus turned to face him.
“Everything okay?” Mose asked with a concerned look. He set down the wheelbarrow of feed.
“Everything’s fine,” Marcus told him. “Mary is helping with the chores.”
“And supper,” she said.
Marcus was certain there were tears on Mary’s cheek.
Mary managed to give Mose a smile. He appeared ready to say something more, but he must have changed his mind and began to shovel feed to the cows. Mary didn’t look at Marcus as she chose the closest cow and sat down behind its haunches.
“I really am sorry for the way I acted today,” Marcus came up to say quietly.
Mary took several deep breaths, before she peeked out from behind the cow. “I forgot a milk bucket.”
Marcus’s startled look almost made her laugh. The day had been long and difficult for both of them.
“I’ll get one.” He hurried away. “I want to change my ways,” he told her when he came back. “For your sake, for both of us, for what is right.”
“It’s okay. We’ll talk about things later.”
He didn’t say anything more, retreating from sight. Mary placed the bucket under the cow’s udder and began to draw down the milk.
“Are you okay?” Mose asked at her shoulder.
“Yep,” she chirped.
“Okay,” he said, appearing completely unconvinced.
Mary ducked behind the cow again, and Mose moved on. Her face was flushed with happiness. Marcus had apologized for his behavior today, and his words had been laden with total sincerity. He had turned a corner in their relationship, or crested the mountaintop. Either way, something had changed. Mary peeked around the cow’s haunches. Marcus’s broad back was in view, busy milking his cow. His shirt was barely soiled from the day’s work of carrying heavy furniture out of the house and onto the wagons. Not too many men would be so clean tonight. Marcus had worked hard. She hadn’t ridden with the teams over to John Beachy’s home, but Marcus had made several trips on the back of the wagons to guard against any accidents on the rough side roads. There was a weariness written in the slump of his shoulders, but little more. Marcus was a special man. There was no question there, and he was willing to change when change was the right choice.
Mary turned back to her milking and stood when the bucket was full to the brim with the foam threatening to spill over the top. She walked carefully over to the strainer perched on top of the milk bucket and emptied the contents without losing a drop to the floor. She could feel Marcus’s gaze fixed on her. Everything felt brighter, like the sun had broken through the clouds. She was dizzy with the feeling, and nearly lost her grip on the bucket.
Mary collected herself and spoke in Marcus’s direction. “I’m going inside to get supper ready.”
“I’ll see you in a little bit,” he said.
She couldn’t resist looking at him. “Unless you want me to help with another cow before I go?”
His smile was gentle. “We’re fine, and don’t feel that you have to serve us supper. We can fend for ourselves.”
“I disagree with that,” Mose hollered from two cows down.
Marcus laughed. “I guess you had better stay.”
Mary set her milk bucket on the floor. “See you shortly, then.”
She hurried out of the barn door without looking back, her heart overflowing with joy.
The stars had come out by the time they sat down to eat supper that evening. Marcus sat at the head of the table where Dat used to sit. Mam had occupied the place since Dat’s death, but she was gone now. As if Mary read his thoughts, she gave him a sweet smile.
He swallowed hard and looked away. “Let’s pray and give thanks.”
They bowed their heads in silent prayer.
“Amen,” Marcus pronounced a few moments later.
They lifted their heads, and Mary shyly passed him the casserole.
“Hey, don’t I get to eat?” Mose protested. “I did work today.”
“All in its goot time,” Mary said, her voice soothing.
Marcus lost himself in the soft tones, barely managing to keep his grip on the edge of the casserole bowl. It was the effect of the day, he told himself, and his tiredness, and . . . well, Mary. He might as well be honest.
“There is something special coming after the casserole,” Mary said.
“I don’t see anything special.” Mose dished out a generous helping of casserole.
“That’s because the pecan pie is in a covered dish.”
“Pecan pie!” Mose’s face lit up.
“I take it you’re a fan?” she asked.
“My favorite,” Mose mumbled, his mouth full. “Or at least right up there close to the top.”
“And you?” Mary turned towards Marcus.
He tried to keep his thoughts straight, but all he could see was Mary’s tender smile. “I . . . Pie is . . . I like a lot of them.”
“He gets tongue-tied around beautiful girls,” Mose said.
“And you don’t?” Mary shot back.
Marcus smiled at the startled look on Mose’s face, and then took pity on the rising color in his cheeks and shifted the conversation.
“Mose is a goot brother,” he said. “He has stood shoulder to shoulder with me during these difficult years without Dat. Tonight is our last night together, with the memory of Dat heavy in our house. Tomorrow we part ways, and I suppose things will never be quite the same.”
“I thought you said he gets tongue-tied,” Mary said in Mose’s direction.
Mose shrugged, smiling a little. “I’m ready for the pecan pie!”
Mary passed the pie to Mose first, and he grinned, helping himself to a very large piece.
“I think you took two pieces,” Mary chided.
“There’s plenty left for you and Mose,” he replied, looking very unrepentant.
“I guess this is a special night,” she relented. “What about you, Marcus?”
He met her gaze. “The usual, please.”
She cut the piece and transferred it to his plate.
“This is so unfair,” Mose complained. “I had to cut my own.”
Marcus forgot about his brother and even the pie in his mouth as Mary took her own piece and they ate. He could not take his eyes off of her face. Mose seemed to sense the solemnness of the moment and remained silent.
When they had finished with the last crumb, they bowed their heads for another prayer of thanks.
“I’m helping with the dishes,” Marcus said after they lifted their heads.
Mose grinned and vanished upstairs.
Mary gave him another smile and stood to her feet. “I wash and you dry?”
“Sounds goot to me,” he said. “And I’ll help clear the table.”
“Do you know how?” There was teasing in her voice.
“I can avoid dropping the plates,” he shot back.
“I’m sure you can.” Her back was turned to him, standing at the sink, running the hot water. The cool evening breeze blowing through the screen played with the loose strands of hair hanging down her neck.
Marcus picked up several plates and carried them to the counter.
“You didn’t drop them.” Her sly smile turned his throat dry.
He moved back to the table and gathered up the utensils. She joined him with a washcloth, moving her hand across the vinyl table top. He watched transfixed.
She caught his gaze. “Is the table clean enough?”
He wanted to take her in his arms, but he didn’t. “Everything you do is beautiful.”
Mary ducked her head and finished the cleaning.
He went back to the counter and found a drying cloth.
She was at the sink when he returned. “It’s been a beautiful day,” she said.
“Yah, it has,” he agreed.
“The weather couldn’t have been better.”
“Will you be going home
for the Christmas holidays?” he said, changing the subject.
“Maybe. Mam did ask in her last letter, but I haven’t decided. Should I?”
“Everyone goes home for Christmas.”
“Will you be home with your mam?”
He thought for a moment. “I guess that is a proper question. Things have changed.”
“Same predicament I’m in,” she said. “My first time away from home for the holidays.”
“You strike me as a world traveler.”
“With my glowing luggage.” Her laugh was strangled.
“No, with your mature attitude. You strike me as a person who has seen the world.”
“In books,” she said. “Not much else.”
“I would like to, sometime,” he said. “Maybe take the Greyhound bus on one of those thirty-day tickets that go anywhere in the US. One of my uncles did that in his younger days.”
“You’re still young,” she said.
He wanted to slip his arm around her waist and pull her close, but he wiped the dishes instead.
“I should be going,” she finally said, the last dish stacked in the cupboards. “The morning will come soon enough.”
He walked her to the door. “Shall I take you home in the buggy?”
She laughed. “That’s funny. I haven’t worked that hard.”
He dared touch her fingers on the doorknob. “Good night,” he whispered.
She moved down the porch steps, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow in church.”
He stayed at the door a long time, trying to catch a glimpse of Mary’s form hurrying across the fields in the starlight. He was certain he saw her several times, but perhaps he was imagining things? Perhaps he had imagined everything today? The whole world appeared a haze in the fallen darkness.
CHAPTER 23
MARY SLIPPED INTO THE SCHOOLHOUSE ON MONDAY MORNING, HER breath fogging the glass pane of the door. The weather had turned colder over the weekend, as if to make up for the unusually warm past few weeks. She closed the door and cleaned a spot on the glass with her elbow. She peered out across the playground. Fast-moving clouds scurried across the sky. Snow would be moving in later in the day, if not sooner. Silvia had chosen her wedding and moving dates well. Today, the furniture on the wagons would have been transported under tarps. Even that might not have been enough to keep things dry if the snow blew hard enough. Clearly the Lord had blessed Silvia down to the smallest details.
Mary turned to pull off her coat and froze at the sound of footsteps on the upper schoolhouse level. She let out her breath slowly. Those were Marcus’s footsteps. He must have decided to light the stove on this stormy morning and stayed to speak with her. Marcus was still serious about moving forward with their relationship. Mary’s heart pounded at the thought. She was in full agreement. Silvia was not the only one in the community who had been given a miracle from the Lord’s hand.
The footsteps on the upper floor came closer. “Goot morning.” Marcus’s deep voice filled the entryway. “Hope I haven’t startled you.”
Mary made a face at him. “I thought it might be you.”
“Mose came over last night,” he said. “Looks like he might be helping me part-time. He might even move back for part of each week. Turns out there isn’t enough work to keep him busy at John’s place. Or maybe he just misses me.” Marcus gave a playful smile.
“That’s wonderful,” Mary gushed. “I am so glad for you.”
He turned more serious. “I guess I do need help, and I’ll pay fair wages.”
“You are always fair, and needing help carries no shame.”
“I suppose not.” He managed to smile. “I had a few moments free, and decided to come up.
“I’m so glad. We didn’t get a chance to speak yesterday.”
“I know,” he said. “It was goot to see you at the services, though.”
“Now you’re here.”
He laughed, and sat down on the top step. “How are things going?”
“Okay. What about you?”
“There’s not much that can happen in a bachelor’s life,” he said. “At least interesting things. Just the farm work as usual.”
“The house must seem empty.”
“It does. But I’ll get used to it.”
“I should stop by and make supper for you and Mose again tonight.”
His face brightened. “You would?”
“If you want me to?”
“There is no question there. I mean, if you have the time. But you were just there on Saturday evening.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my coming over tonight.” She seated herself beside him. “I would love to stop in.”
“There’s still casserole left from the moving day,” he said.
She glared at him. “I’m making something proper, believe me.”
“Don’t trouble yourself—we’ll just be happy with the company.”
“No Amish man turns down goot cooking.”
“That is true,” he agreed.
“I may not be able to match your mam.” She tilted her head at him.
“You can cook,” he said. “You’re an Amish woman.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not wrong.”
“Confident, are we?”
“Confident in you.”
She slapped his arm. “That’s a changed tune.”
He took her hand in his. “I’d be honored to have you cook for us. But my real happiness will come from you just being there. The house is empty and forlorn by myself, and even with Mose there. It feels like it’s lost its best occupants, which it has.”
She couldn’t break her gaze from his eyes. “It’s only been a couple nights. You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Mose and I sat eating by ourselves last night at the kitchen table. I mean, the food that the community had left for us was goot, and we managed to heat it in the oven without burning down the house, but nothing else was right. Mam and the kids were gone, with their laughter, their chatter, the sound of their footsteps. Men weren’t made to live alone.”
“I can’t come every evening and make supper for you.”
“I didn’t mean to imply . . .”
“How about twice a week. I can handle that.”
“You would?”
“With great joy in my heart. My schoolwork has slacked off since I have more of a routine and have gotten used to the children’s ways.”
He stood to his feet. “Then I should be going with such a concession in hand, but you do know that I didn’t come to beg for help.”
“I know that.” She gazed up at him.
“Can’t wait then,” he said. “Just come when you can.”
“It’ll be four or so, I’m thinking. From there, let’s keep the evenings in question a surprise.”
“I like that,” he said, “and if some weeks you don’t have the time, that’s okay.”
“At least I’m coming tonight.” She followed him to the door.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Thank you for coming to our community, for teaching school here, for . . .”
She waited. She could almost see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes, then changing direction.
“I’m sorry again about that first day when I picked you up at the bus station. I said things I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s okay. That’s behind us now.”
“I guess it is.”
“It is,” she assured him. “We have grown since I arrived. You have changed, but so have I.”
“You have changed?” He appeared very skeptical.
“I did. I had ideas which were wrong.”
“You want to talk about them?” He had a twinkle in his eye.
“So you’re saying what’s goot for the gander is goot for the goose?”
He laughed. “Something like that. But we can talk later. When you’re ready, or maybe not at all. Whatever suits y
ou.”
“Thanks for your consideration, but this is the truth. I arrived determined not to look for a relationship with a man. I have changed my mind. You changed my mind, of all people. Who would have thought?”
“I know,” he said. “Life seems to get stranger by the day.”
“Are you objecting?”
“No. I am glad, but it feels like things are changing so fast, my head is spinning.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “We have all the time in the world. I’ll be over tonight in time to make supper, and perhaps even help with the chores.”
“Supper is enough,” he said. “Especially after a full day of teaching. Stop in at the barn before you go up to the house, will you?”
“Of course.”
Marcus tipped his hat and closed the door. Mary waited for his backward glance and waved through the glass. He appeared dazed, but happy. Mary hugged herself.
She wanted to take him home for the Christmas holidays. The urge swept over her. Mam should meet Marcus, and her sisters should lay their eyes on the man. Heat rushed into Mary’s face. Their teasing would be unbearable.
“Slowly, Mary,” she whispered. “Slowly, slowly . . .”
Marcus peeked out of the barn window soon after three o’clock to see the schoolyard full of departing buggies, and Mary’s form among them, obviously helping the children leave. She would be over soon, if he didn’t miss his guess. Supper made from scratch wasn’t a small affair. He knew that much about cooking. He should feel guilty for imposing on Mary’s time, but the anticipation of seeing her again so soon overpowered any other feelings.
“What are you doing?” Mose’s voice teased from behind him.
Marcus didn’t say anything. The answer was obvious. Mose laughed and moved on.
“Mary’s coming over tonight to make supper,” Marcus hollered after him.
Mose gave a thumbs-up over his shoulder. “Way to go. When are you two officially dating?”
Marcus avoided the question yet again. He didn’t know. His fears still haunted him at certain moments when he was alone, so the best way forward was to take his time. Mary seemed agreeable to that tactic. So why should anyone else object?
An hour later Mary stuffed the papers she had to check into her bag. They could wait until later. She would have an hour or so free to work after she arrived home after supper at the Yoders’ house. She wanted plenty of time to prepare, because this supper must be the best meal she had ever made. Marcus claimed he didn’t need to see how well she could cook, but they were still young in their relationship. She wanted to impress him. She imagined him filling his plate a second time, telling her everything was just perfect. He would be thinking ahead to all the meals they would enjoy together as a married couple.
