by Leslie Gould
My face grew warm as I placed the coffee and plate in front of Gordon. Here I’d thought Mamm and Bishop Jacobs were scheming to allow me to spend more time with Elijah. But now I couldn’t help but wonder what Aenti Suz was up to—and why it would involve Gordon Martin.
The day after New Year’s, Aenti Suz hired a driver to take us into Lancaster to do some shopping. Sunscreen and lotion were on the top of our list. Or her list, anyway. I couldn’t see myself spending a lot of time on the beach. On our way home, she asked the driver to swing by Silas and Jessica’s place. The Stoltz farm was off Highway 30 on Garden Lane.
“I think it would be nice to say hello.” Aenti Suz smiled at me as she spoke. We’d seen Jessica and Silas at Christmas, but I agreed it would be nice to see their home.
John and Mildred Stoltz had built a Dawdi Haus on their property and moved into it right before Jessica and Silas’s wedding. Jessica begged them to stay in their farmhouse, but Mildred had stage-four breast cancer, and she and John felt the Dawdi Haus would be easier for them to manage. That gave Jessica and Silas the big farmhouse to live in and furnish. Thanks to the collection of stuff Dat and Mamm had accumulated—and what had been passed down through two centuries in our house—they had what they needed, and we still had a collection of leftovers out in a storage room in the barn.
When the driver pulled up by the house, Jessica stepped out onto the back porch. I was surprised she wasn’t out working on the farm with Silas. She wore an apron and a heavy sweater. She waved, obviously happy to see us.
“We won’t be longer than fifteen minutes,” Aenti Suz said to our driver.
“Take your time,” the man said. “I’ll keep the heater going and take a little nap.”
Aenti Suz chuckled. “All right, make it a half hour then.”
“Come on in,” Jessica called out.
We hurried up the back steps. An icy wind blew again and the sky threatened a new snowstorm.
Jessica’s kitchen was fairly warm. She had two peach cobblers sitting on the counter, and I guessed one was for John and Mildred. The kitchen was dated—old cupboards, counters, and linoleum—but everything was clean and freshly painted.
She pointed to the table in the corner. “Do you have time to sit down and have some coffee?”
“Just that much time,” Aenti Suz said. “We just wanted to pop in and say hello.”
We chatted while Jessica started the coffee. I stepped toward the table and put my purse on it, noticing an envelope with Leisel’s name on the return address. I felt a twinge of jealousy and felt one of my judgmental looks, one that my sisters sometimes pointed out, creep across my face. I hadn’t received a letter from Leisel. Then again, I hadn’t written to her either.
I couldn’t deny that Jessica and Leisel were closer than I was with either one of them. At one time Jessica and I had been best friends, or at least she thought we were, but I’d actually been jealous of her for years. She was strong and coordinated and preferred being outside farming with Dat. They’d developed a close relationship while I stayed inside, working with Mamm. Early on, I picked up that Mamm didn’t approve of Jessica’s helping with the farm and, I’m embarrassed to admit, I capitalized on that—criticizing Jessica to Mamm and doing my best to stay on Mamm’s good side.
As Jessica glanced at me, I tried to put the letter from Leisel out of my mind. I was an adult now, and I needed to avoid any sort of jealousy, along with everything else that might entangle me.
The back door swung open and Silas entered with a load of wood in his arms. He greeted us, deposited the wood in the box by the stove, and then brushed his hands together.
“How about a cup of coffee?” Jessica asked. “And a piece of cobbler? Aenti Suz and Marie have a driver waiting, so we need to be quick.”
Silas agreed. He followed Jessica to the counter as Aenti Suz poured the coffee. He bent toward Jessica and whispered something. Perhaps I imagined it, but by reading his lips it seemed he said, “Are you feeling better?”
Jessica smiled up at him and simply nodded.
The expressions on their faces forced me to look away. It was as if I’d seen something I shouldn’t. Concern on his. Some sort of hope on hers, mixed with the hint of something more. But above all, their faces expressed their love. The commitment between two people who were, besides husband and wife, best friends. I couldn’t imagine what it was like. Not at all. I’d never experienced anything close to it. But hopefully it was something that would soon grow between Elijah and me. Anticipation swelled inside of me.
As we all settled at the table with our coffee and cobbler, Jessica shared that Leisel had written and said she was sorry not to make it home for Christmas. I smiled sweetly, hiding my hurt.
Then Jessica said, “Oh! Mamm told me about you going to Florida. I’m so happy for you!” There wasn’t even a hint of jealousy in her words. “She also reminded me that Elijah Jacobs lives down there.” Jessica lifted her eyebrows as she smiled.
“Jah,” Aenti Suz said before I could answer. “He does live down there.” She took a sip of coffee. “And Gordon is going to be down there on a mission trip during our second week there.”
“Goodness.” Jessica wrapped her hands around her mug, her eyes sparkling. “Sounds like it’s going to be a great time.”
I simply nodded, not wanting to encourage her to tease me. She and Silas had started courting before they’d even turned sixteen, although covertly. Then, after she left, she dated an Englischer in Harrisburg. I was the one who’d never courted at all.
I concentrated on eating the peach cobbler, which was delicious, while Aenti Suz asked about Mildred Stoltz. It seemed the two had known each other years ago. Our aunt asked Jessica to tell both John and Mildred hello.
Jessica was so happy we stopped by, but she understood we couldn’t stay long. Anyway, she’d see us on the Epiphany, just four days away. In no time, we were telling them good-bye and then we were on our way home, looking forward to seeing Jessica and Silas soon.
But, as it turned out, they didn’t come over for the Epiphany, or Old Christmas as we often called it. Gordon knocked on the back door as Aenti Suz and I cleaned up after breakfast, saying that Silas had left a message. Jessica wasn’t feeling well.
Aenti Suz thanked Gordon and then invited him in for a cup of coffee. He hesitated, but then, probably remembering how insistent she was the last time, accepted her offer.
As the three of us sat at the table, Aenti Suz asked what his plans were for the day.
“I’m going back to the shelter,” he said. “Tony is shorthanded, and I’m going to help prepare supper.”
“Good for you,” Aenti Suz said. “But won’t your mother miss you?”
He smiled. “She’s going with me. So is my sister—she doesn’t return to school until day after tomorrow.”
“How lovely,” Mamm said.
The Mennonites, or at least the Martin family, definitely did things differently than we did.
He turned to me then and said he hoped we’d have a good trip. Then he added, “I mentioned before that I’ll be down in Florida in two weeks.”
I nodded. Jah, he had. So had Aenti Suz.
“There’s a group of unhoused youth that travels from this area to Florida each winter. We’ll be reaching out to some of them, in hopes that we’ll be able to reconnect with them in the spring and summer when they come back here.”
“Fascinating,” Aenti Suz said.
“Of course, we’ll be helping others in the shelter too, regardless of where they spend their springs and summers.”
I couldn’t imagine such a life, and I wondered if providing services actually changed things for any of the youth in the long run. “I can’t help but think of Chrissie and Rory,” I said. “If they didn’t have the shelter to help them, do you think they’d stay with her mother? Where they belong?”
Gordon gave me a patient smile. “You’re not alone in thinking that way. And for some of our clients, the best place
for them would be with their parents. But not for all of them. For some, home is an abusive place. Or there are drugs in the house. Others don’t have parents who can help them.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Some of their parents are deceased. Others are incarcerated or ill or too impoverished.”
“Oh.” My father was dead, but I had my mother. If my mother died, I’d have Arden and my sisters, not to mention Aenti Suz. And Amos, who I knew would help me, even at a distance. “And they don’t have other family who can help?”
“Some of them do, but not all,” Gordon explained. “The goal is to get them reunited with their families, if it’s a healthy situation.”
“Are there some who simply prefer to be on the streets?” I asked.
He nodded. “A few, but most would like to be with family or have a home of their own. Everyone should have shelter and food.”
I wrinkled my nose, figuring I wasn’t cut out for that sort of work. I loved the music the evening I was at the shelter with Gordon, but I didn’t see that I had much to contribute as far as helping Englischers with their problems.
“Anyway, it would be great to see you when we’re down there,” he said. “If that would be possible.”
Before I could answer, Aenti Suz said, “That’s a wonderful idea. We’d love to find out more about the work you’re doing there.” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Here’s the phone number where you can reach us.”
I shook my head at her, but neither noticed. It was obvious she’d written the number down ahead of time, hoping for a chance to give it to him.
Aenti Suz clearly thought the world of Gordon. Then again, she was my father’s sister. He’d been a lot like Gordon, always eager to help others. I admired that in my father, although his service to others often took him away from Mamm and us girls.
Gordon finished his coffee and then said he’d be on his way. “I won’t be back to help with the milking this afternoon,” he said. “Arden said he and the boys would do it.” He turned toward me. “Have a great trip, and hopefully I’ll see you soon.”
I smiled. “That would be nice.” But I wasn’t sure that I meant it. I had no desire to see his volunteer work in Florida. I’d seen enough in Lancaster. And besides, I hoped to spend as much time as I could with Elijah.
Mamm and I had a quiet day with just Aenti Suz because Arden and Vi and their children went to her parents’ farm for the day. It was actually too quiet, and for the first time I wondered how Mamm would do with me gone.
When I asked her, she answered, “I’ll be fine. I have a lot of quilting to do, Jessica promised she’d come over to check on me, and Vi invited me over to their house for suppers.” She seemed sincere. Our family had changed so much in the last year, but Mamm seemed to be accepting it.
Of course I’d packed for our trip the day before, throwing in some kitchen towels to embroider and add to my hope chest, but Aenti Suz wasn’t ready at all. When Mamm went upstairs to take a nap, Aenti Suz invited me over for a cup of tea in her Dawdi Haus and to keep her company while she packed. With nothing better to do, I accepted her invitation.
She had a big suitcase open on her small table, and stacks of clothes and books were piled on the dining room chairs. I sat down on her small but very comfortable sofa.
As she brewed the tea, she said how pleased she was that Mamm wanted me to accompany her to Florida.
Honestly, I was surprised too. Mamm didn’t like any of us going far from home. I guessed it was her desire for me to marry Elijah that won her over, but I said, “Maybe she’s getting over her fears.”
Aenti Suz held a summer dress in her hand. “When your mother was young she wasn’t fearful, but that changed when your sister Rebecca died. I think she was so afraid of losing you three girls, of Jessica and then you and Leisel, that she became rigid. She was so determined to follow all of the rules, as if that would protect all of you, that she found herself confessing to the bishop for the littlest thing, including if she feared she’d gossiped about someone or even had a bad thought. She hated that your father lived with such freedom in his friendships, travels, and thoughts. She was sure God would punish him—and her—by taking another child.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s awful.” I did remember, as Mamm and I cleaned and cooked together over the years, her fretting over all sorts of things. That was probably where I got my propensity to measure dress hems and hat brims.
“Forgive me.” Aenti Suz put her dress in the suitcase. “I’ve probably said too much.” She sighed and then asked me more about the night I helped Gordon at the shelter.
I told her it had opened my eyes to the situations of others, and although I appreciated Gordon’s desire to serve, it was obvious I didn’t share his gifting.
“Well,” Aenti Suz said, “Gifting helps, but service can be learned.” She turned toward me as she poured the tea. “Could I tell you a story? About one of your great-great-great-aunts?”
“Sure,” I said. Anything would be better than being lectured about my lack of desire to serve.
“Her name was Annie Bachmann,” Aenti Suz said. “And she lived here, on this farm, in your house, with her sister, Sophia, her brother Josiah, and their parents. This was just over one hundred fifty years ago, during the Civil War.”
5
Annie Bachmann
JUNE 1863
Annie stepped out of the coop, swatting dust and grain from her apron with one hand as she clutched the basket of eggs in the other. Just as she headed toward the back door of the house, her brother Josiah started yelling, “The Rebs are coming!”
He bolted over the split-rail fence from the field and rushed past her, his hazel eyes wild. He continued on toward their whitewashed house, shouting his message over and over.
Annie followed after him, half walking and half running. It wouldn’t do to crack any of the eggs before they could eat them for breakfast. When she reached the back porch, recently screened in by Dat, Josiah was talking a mile a minute to their parents and sister, Sophia.
“Hiram Fisher said so.” Josiah gasped for air. “The Rebs are on the Pennsylvania and Maryland border, headed this way.”
Dat tugged on his long, gray beard. “That doesn’t mean they’ll come here to Leacock.”
Josiah swiped at his brow. “But they could.”
Sophia, whose bed was on the back porch in hopes the fresh air would help her health, sat up. “Is there to be a battle nearby?”
“No,” Dat said. “We need more information before jumping to any conclusions.”
“Go ask Hiram,” Josiah said. “He just told me. He said to let you know right away.” The Fishers were Mennonite, and Sophia was sweet on their son, Richert, who to the dismay of all had joined the Union Army a year ago, along with another Plain boy in the area, Cecil Troyer.
“I won’t ask now,” Dat said. “An hour or two won’t make a difference.”
Mamm wrinkled her brow. She’d aged drastically in the last two years, since the war had started and Sophia had fallen ill. “But what about George and Harriet?” Along with being Annie’s sister-in-law, Harriet was also Cecil Troyer’s sister. The Bachmanns had two soldiers to worry about.
Mamm continued. “Perhaps we should send a message to them to come here.”
Dat shook his head. “We’ll do no such thing. There’s no reason to be alarmed.”
Mamm sighed and took the basket of eggs from Annie. “I’ll finish up breakfast.”
Dat turned to Josiah. “Are the chores all done?”
“Almost.” He retreated back down the stairs and Dat followed.
Annie sat down next to Sophia and took her hand. “Try not to worry about Richert.”
“Annie!” Mamm’s voice carried from the kitchen. “I need you to run over to the Fishers for me.”
“I’ll be back.” Annie squeezed Sophia’s hand and headed to the kitchen.
Mamm met her at the door. “Go see if Eva has
some valerian for Sophia—she didn’t sleep much last night.” Mamm dropped her voice to a whisper. “Ask Eva what she knows about the Rebs, in case Hiram didn’t tell Josiah everything. I don’t want to wait until your Dat feels inclined to inquire about it. I’ll save breakfast for you.”
Soon after Richert had joined the Union Army, Sophia had been diagnosed with consumption. Annie and Mamm had been caring for her ever since.
“Run along,” Mamm said. “Tell Eva I’ll get over to see her sometime soon.”
Annie did as she was told and walked out to the lane and turned to the left. The leaves of the old oak danced in the breeze, over the emerald green field. The lush grass was nearly tall enough to mow.
It was early June and already muggy. Hopefully rain would fall by evening and settle the dust on the lane. Cows and horses grazed in the pasture, and the herd of goats—seven to be exact—bleated in their corral next to the barn as Josiah milked the nanny.
A flock of swallows swooped this way and that, and then flew back toward the barn as Annie neared the woods. She stepped to the side of the lane and walked under the branches of the trees. A thistle snagged the skirt of her dress, and she freed it carefully so as not to tear it. She didn’t have time to catch up on the mending as it was, let alone add to it.
Sophia, who was twenty, three years older than Annie, had always done the mending, until she fell ill. She’d also done most of the sewing and tended to anyone who was ill, besides helping Mamm with the baking, the garden, and the cooking and canning.
Annie did her best to keep up with all the chores now, but she feared she could never match Sophia’s competency. Nor her sister’s sweet spirit.
They all knew Sophia’s diagnosis meant she’d likely be gone within a few years, if not sooner. But still, they prayed for a miracle. Annie couldn’t bear to think of it. Sophia was her sister and her dearest friend.
So much had happened in the last few years. Their oldest brother, George, had married Harriet and moved to southern Lancaster County, to Peach Bottom on the Susquehanna River, closer to the Maryland border. Their little boy, Noah, who was now two, had been born there soon after Abraham Lincoln had been inaugurated. Even though Annie’s father thought highly of the new president, they all knew having him as the new leader meant trouble for the country.
