A World Away

by Nancy Grossman

  Pulled into the tightness of our work together, I suddenly wanted my friends to know about these past few days and the rise and fall of my hopes. I set down my needle, and the four bowed heads lifted up. I glanced at the kitchen to be sure my mother was out of earshot. “So, I’ve been trying to figure out how to live with the English. I want to go away for a while and see what it’s like there.”

  The needles dropped, settling in steely slivers against the quilt. “Do your parents know?” asked Mary.

  “I talked to them about it last night. It didn’t go well.”

  “Did you think it would?” asked Kate.

  I shook my head. “You know my mom.”

  “Where would you live if you went away?” asked Sally.

  I took a breath. “Maybe I’ll find a babysitting job and live with the family.” I waited for their response.

  When Kate spoke again, her voice was low and wistful. “What if your parents change their minds?”

  “That would be incredible.”

  “Not for me,” said Kate.

  “Don’t worry, Katie,” I said. “My mother has no plans to let me out of her sight.” Kate picked up her needle, and everyone else did the same. Her steady fingers seemed to be faltering a bit as the quiet rhythm of the stitching resumed.

  Annie spoke next, the words rushing out. “Marc wanted to know if I’m going to Susie’s party next Friday. I told him I was thinking about it.”

  I smiled and shook my head. We were back to Annie, but that was all right.

  “Thinking about it?” said Sally. “You’ve been talking about that party for a month!”

  “I know,” said Annie, “but he doesn’t have to know that.”

  We all exchanged glances, and Mary swallowed back a giggle. We had returned to the world we knew. Annie wondering if Marc wanted to court her. Sally sneaking into Peter’s carriage—hoping we wouldn’t notice, but happy that we did. Friday night parties. Sunday services. Barn raisings. In a few years there would be baptisms and weddings, then babies.

  All at once I needed to get up from my crouched position, to stretch and breathe in some fresh air. “I’ve got to see if Margaret needs me in the kitchen,” I said. My friends shifted to fill the space I’d left behind. I slipped away quietly, hoping they wouldn’t notice that I wasn’t going to the kitchen, but outside. The air was warm and new, and I inhaled deeply, stretching my cramped limbs. I searched around until I saw Daniel, sawing a piece of wood, his elbow moving up and down in a sure rhythm. He looked up at me and continued to saw until the severed piece dropped at his feet. Then he set the saw down and unhooked his tool belt. “I’m taking a break,” he told the boy beside him.

  Side by side, we followed the path from Margaret’s house that led to a forested area. As we walked, Daniel reached for my hand and I let him hold it. “You first,” he said. “I can tell you want to say something, and so do I. So you start.”

  We stopped walking and he reached for my other hand. We stood there a little awkwardly, like children about to play London Bridge.

  “I want to go away. During my rumspringa. I want to live somewhere else and try out the English life.” I waited to hear what he thought of my idea. My hands, nestled in his, felt warm and comfortable.

  “I don’t think the English life is something you can try out,” he said after a moment. “It’s not like a pair of shoes.”

  “You know what I mean. This is the time when we’re supposed to have some freedom. I don’t want to just talk about that life. I want to live the way they do.”

  “How do they live?”

  “That’s the point,” I said, hearing the exasperation in my voice. “I don’t know how they live. That’s what I want to find out.”

  “Is there something here that you don’t like?”

  Daniel’s face was so familiar. I knew the tiny indentations above his cheekbones, and the way the edges of his eyes tilted up when he grinned. His voice was even and steady, like a straight road. I knew I could stay here and be drawn into the comfort of him. Then I’d never know what I was missing in that world away from here.

  “This is all I’ve known,” I said. “So I can’t like it or not like it. I have nothing to compare it to.”

  Daniel nodded, still listening, waiting for more. But I couldn’t find any words to describe the restless feeling that had filled me in these past months. He squeezed my hands. “Then you should go,” he said. “You should find a way to make it happen.”

  I took a breath, encouraged by his words. “I thought I had,” I said. “I met someone at the inn who offered me a nanny job in Chicago.”

  “That’s far,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “It’s what you want?” he asked. I nodded. “Then what’s stopping you?”

  “My parents,” I said. “They need some convincing.”

  A grin slid up his face. “So convince them. You’re good at that.”

  Stepping forward, I felt the solid warmth of him. We stood together for a few minutes wrapped in a gentle hug, before Daniel reminded me that we had to get back. Together we started down the path toward Margaret’s house.

  Suddenly I remembered something. “What did you want to tell me?”

  “Never mind,” he answered. “It’s not important.”

  Ahead, the men were in a row, preparing to hoist up a framed wall that would soon be part of Margaret and Jacob’s barn. The women were in the house, quilting and cooking. I let go of Daniel’s hand, and we both hurried off to return to the men’s work and women’s work that was ahead for us. We hurried off toward the world we both knew.

  The next day, Monday, was my day off from the inn. My mother and I were together in the kitchen, canning strawberry preserves. While my mother stirred the boiling mixture of strawberries, sugar, and lemon juice, I sterilized the jars. Holding a pair of tongs, I watched the water roiling around the jars and lids and rings, checking the clock to be sure it boiled for a full ten minutes. On the counter I laid out a clean towel, ready to arrange the items when they came out of the pot. I was still angry with my mother, but I thought in this quiet work we were sharing, there might be a way to bring up the conversation again.

  In the afternoon I would be picking up Ruthie from school. I planned to leave a little early so I could stop at the inn and speak to Mrs. Aster. I would tell her that my parents had had a change of heart and didn’t feel that it was a good time for me to leave home. But if my mother gave me any indication today that she might be softening to the idea, I would tell Mrs. Aster that I would be in touch with her again when it was a better time for my family.

  As I prepared to lift the first jar out of the boiling water, I heard a knock at the front door. My mother went to answer, and I heard her greet a quilt customer in her cordial way. I imagined her at the door, her face settled into the lines of the stranger smile. But there was something about my mother’s voice, confused and cautious, that made me set the tongs down on the towel. I heard her say, “I don’t understand. Surely there must be some mistake.” I turned off the gas burner and moved toward the front door, to see my mother standing face-to-face with Mrs. Aster.

  Both women turned to me with confused expressions, and I swallowed back a wave of dread. “Eliza,” said my mother, “Mrs. Aster tells me that you’ve discussed a position with her. Do you have something to say about this?”

  I turned to Mrs. Aster, who seemed to take stock of the situation quickly. “It’s my fault, Mrs. Miller. I was so eager to hire a new nanny for my children that I jumped ahead before checking with you. I should never have mentioned the job to Eliza without talking to you first.”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said to my mother. “This is my fault. I thought that if I had a job offer, you might agree to it. But when you were so firm about not letting me leave home, I didn’t even have a chance to tell you about the job.” I turned to face Mrs. Aster. “I was going to come to the inn today to explain that I couldn’t accept the position. I’m so sorry
.”

  We were all standing in the front hallway, facing each other in an awkward circle. Mrs. Aster’s expression held concern and discomfort. My mother’s was unreadable.

  She turned to Mrs. Aster. “When your children are teenagers, you will learn that they don’t always like to follow your rules.” I looked down, heat pumping to my face, as my mother continued, her voice polite and even. “I’m sure that you had the best of intentions, but I hope you understand our decision that Eliza will not be leaving home.”

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Aster. “And please know that I meant no disrespect.”

  “I understand,” said my mother.

  As Mrs. Aster turned to step onto the front porch, our eyes met. I tried in that flash of an instant to show her how sorry I was for putting her in this situation. And how sorry I was that I couldn’t go with her.

  When the door closed, my mother faced me. I expected anger, but instead I saw tired resignation. “Will there be any more surprises for me on my front porch, Eliza? Will any other strangers be stopping by to ask me if you’ll be living with them?”

  “No,” I said miserably.

  “Good,” she said.

  I started to go back to the kitchen to pull the jars out of the boiling water. My mother reached for my arm, and I turned around to face her. When she spoke, her voice was urgent.

  “One day you’ll understand, Eliza.”

  I nodded, even though I knew it wasn’t true.

  I left early to pick up Ruthie, giving my mother the excuse that I had an errand to run in town. I hurried to the inn, hoping that Mrs. Aster would be there. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to her, but I knew that I didn’t want to leave things this way. When she answered my knock, I stepped into the room, feeling shivery even in the June heat. She looked up from the papers spread across the bed, and sat up quickly.

  “Eliza, I thought you weren’t working today.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “I just wanted to explain things before you left.”

  She got up and pointed to the two wing chairs in the corner of the room. We sat down, and she turned to me. “I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for you today,” she said. “When I met you at your mother’s dinner, I dreamed of having that kind of help around my house. I realize now that I shouldn’t have talked to you about the job without first checking with your parents.”

  “I gave you every reason to think they’d be agreeable. I’m afraid I wasn’t completely truthful with you.”

  Rachel spoke quietly. “Do you want to be truthful now?”

  I nodded. “I’ve always wanted to leave home during my rumspringa and see what the English life is like.”

  “I take it from your mother’s response today that your parents feel strongly about keeping you at home.”

  “My mother does. My father was more open-minded about it, but he couldn’t get her to change her mind.” I glanced at the clock. “I have to go now. It’s time to pick my sister up from school. But I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated your offer—even though I can’t accept it.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” she said. “If anything changes, Mr. Allen knows how to get in touch with me. He’s a friend of mine.” I smiled my thanks and hurried off to pick up Ruthie, knowing that I would never have the need to contact Mrs. Aster. It was time for me to put that hope aside and move on. I just wished I knew where I was going.

  That night after dinner I tried to feel more positive about being at home during my rumspringa. Some of my friends were starting to wear blue jeans at the parties, and we were all planning for the movies we were going to see together once our parents agreed. And now that I’d be staying home, I could consider the idea of having Daniel as my beau. I had a feeling that was what he wanted, too. It was only my wish to leave home that kept me from feeling the same way.

  Before James went out for the evening, he came over to the table, where I was helping Ruthie with her arithmetic problems. He looked at me in a cheerless way and said, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  “Me too,” I said. “But thanks for your help.”

  While Ruthie was bent over the paper, I noticed my parents standing together in the kitchen. Their voices were so low I couldn’t make out any of the words, but I knew my mother was telling my father of Rachel’s visit this afternoon. My father looked up for a moment, and our eyes met. Instead of disapproval, I saw sadness in his expression, and I knew that I had disappointed him.

  I checked Ruthie’s division problem and reminded her to carry the remainder over to the next column. She rubbed her eraser so roughly over her mistake that it ripped the paper and she pushed it away in frustration.

  “Here,” I said, blowing the eraser dust away and smoothing out the tear in the paper. “Let’s start this one over again. I had a hard time with long division, too, but I learned it eventually.” I brushed a strand of golden hair off her damp face. “And so will you.”

  As I reached for a new piece of paper, I heard my father at the front door. “I’m going out for a little fresh air,” he said. I waved to him over my shoulder and went back to Ruthie’s homework. “See?” I said, when she corrected her mistake. “I knew you could do it.”

  She looked up at me, a combination of boredom and gratitude in her round eyes, and we went on to the next problem.

  On Friday night, James pulled the buggy up in front of Susie’s barn, and I climbed out. “Will Daniel be taking you home?” he asked.

  “I don’t think he’ll be here,” I said. “He didn’t send word to me that he’d be picking me up.”

  “Okay, then. I’ll come to get you at eleven,” he said. I nodded and waved as he pulled on the reins to guide the horse back to the road.

  I stepped into the barn, ready to return to the life I hadn’t had the chance to leave. Lanterns hanging from the hayloft lit the barn in a soft way, and I spotted Kate, Annie, and Mary sitting together on a pallet, sipping from cans of soda pop. They waved me over, and I settled in next to them, pulling my skirt over my knees.

  Mary pointed, and we all looked in the direction of the door, where Sally and Peter were slipping out, hand in hand. My group of friends had just started going to parties, most of us having turned sixteen in the past months. We had spent the last year waiting to be old enough for these gatherings, but now we were still figuring out what to do at them. Some of the kids in the wilder groups were already finding ways to get alcohol, but our get-togethers had been pretty tame so far.

  On this night, a group of boys, some wearing blue jeans, were crouched together gambling with playing cards. A few couples were off in distant corners, sitting close together and sneaking kisses, which they would tell their friends about later. At the last party, Daniel and I were one of those couples, hiding behind a hay bale, reaching for each other in a cautious way.

  I took a sip of the soda pop that someone had handed me, swallowing down its fizzy sweetness. I turned to Kate, remembering something she had said at the barn raising. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you knew about texting.”

  “I was in line to check out at the dollar store,” she said, “and I heard these little beeps from behind me. I turned around and the girl showed me the words on her phone.”

  I smiled. “So I guess I’m not the only expert on the English.”

  “No, you’re not,” said Kate. “I’m as taken with them as you are.”

  I had always thought Kate didn’t share my curiosity, but it was clear now that she did.

  “But you seem so content,” I said. “You never talk about leaving home.”

  Kate fingered the hem of her apron. “That’s because I know it will never happen.”

  “It turns out it’s not going to be a possibility for me either,” I said.

  “What happened?” asked Mary, leaning in, pulling her dark silky ponytail over her shoulder so it cascaded down her chest. Annie was glancing at the door, no doubt waiting for Marc to arrive. But she looked back at me when I started my story.r />
  I took a breath and told my friends about my encounters with Mrs. Aster, about James and my dad trying to help me, about my mother’s resolve. I saw their surprised expressions when I told them about Mrs. Aster coming to our house and my mother’s reaction. When I was done I waited for the sympathy I knew would be coming.

  “I’m sorry,” said Mary, shaking her head. “But I really couldn’t imagine why you wanted to leave us in the first place.”

  “It’s not that I wanted to leave you,” I said, stung. “I was just looking to have some different experiences for a while.”

  “I could never leave,” said Mary, her voice firm.

  “Really?” I asked. “You aren’t even a little bit curious?”

  “Oh, I’m curious. But I like knowing what’s expected of me. I feel safe here.”

  I tried to understand Mary’s feelings, but I couldn’t imagine that safety could be someone’s burning desire. I turned to Annie. “What about you? Don’t you ever feel curious about the English?”

  “I hear that Yankee boys are cute,” she said with a grin.

  “Can we change the subject?” said Kate. “You’re not leaving, so why are we still talking about it?” Her voice had a harshness I felt under my skin.

  “We can talk about whatever you want,” I said. “I didn’t know this would bother you.”

  Kate looked away. I waited to hear what her response would be. The room was filling up with people. Near the door, two boys were smoking cigarettes, the acrid smell drifting into the barn. A borrowed machine that Susie called a boom box sent out weak blasts of music, which settled into the background of our conversations. Music was new in our lives, available to us only at these parties. We didn’t know anything about what we were listening to, but it was forbidden, which made it desirable.

  “It does bother me,” said Kate, turning back to face me. “And I guess now I’m sorry for you that you’re stuck with us.”

  Before I could answer, she got up and walked to the table where the refreshments were. I turned back to Mary. “What’s the matter with her?”