by Leslie Gould
I put the bucket away in the broom closet in the kitchen and then headed to the living room to see who had arrived. Leisel, Jessica, and Silas were all climbing out of an old sedan. I waited until they were on the front porch to open the door. “What are you doing here?” I asked Leisel, a little miffed. Why had she decided to come when I was leaving?
“I’m so glad you’re happy to see me.” She grinned. “So nice to have a warm welcome on such an icy day.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her sarcasm.
She wore a long down coat, blue jeans, leather boots, and a beanie on her head, with her blond hair sticking out the back in a ponytail. My little sister was certainly no longer Amish. She looked more Englisch than most Englisch girls around here, but perhaps that was from living in the city for the last nine months.
Silas walked beside Jessica, his hand on her elbow as if he was afraid she might fall. Leisel pulled me into a hug.
Mamm called out, “Who’s here?”
“Come look,” I called back. “And hurry.”
As Leisel let me go, I asked, “Why did you come on the day that we’re leaving?”
“I finally got a couple days off,” she answered. “I left as soon as they let me leave work—around five this morning. I drove straight to Jessica’s.”
Mamm was in the entryway now. “Leisel, is that you?”
“Jah, Mamm.” She let go of me and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around our mother. Perhaps she’d forgotten how resistant Mamm was to affection. Nevertheless, Mamm hugged her back.
Once we were all inside, I stoked the fire again and then said I’d make hot chocolate. “We have to leave in an hour,” I said. “We have a driver coming.”
“No,” Leisel said. “I’ll drive you. Silas and Jessica will stay here with Mamm.”
“We already arranged for the driver,” I said. We had a local man who we used regularly.
“I already called him and canceled.” Leisel grinned.
“Will there be enough room?” I asked. “For us and our luggage?”
“Of course,” Leisel answered.
Silas headed out the back door and fetched Aenti Suz, bringing her luggage along too. I made the hot chocolate and put out bread, meat, cheese, and leftover apple pie from the day before for a light meal. We all gathered around the table.
Leisel kept us entertained with stories about her work. She worked in a nursing home and seemed to have a true affection for the clients. I couldn’t imagine putting a loved one in a home like that, but I knew the Englisch did things differently than we did.
I asked her how her fall semester had gone.
“It was hard,” she said. “But I arranged for a tutor to help me with chemistry. This coming semester, I’m taking anatomy, so I’ve already lined up a tutor for that too.”
“How were your grades last term?” I asked.
She blushed.
“What? Straight As?”
She blushed even more. It was nice to know that she wasn’t going to brag about it.
I changed the subject. “How long are you staying?”
“Just until tomorrow morning,” she answered. “I need to get back. But I couldn’t bear going so long without seeing my family.” Her eyes teared up. “I’ve missed all of you.”
Jessica stood and wrapped an arm around Leisel. “We’ve all missed you too.”
As Jessica sat back down, I tried to imagine Leisel’s life. She lived in a dormitory, went to school, worked, and owned and drove a car. It was a life I would never know—and would never want to know.
When it came time to leave, Silas loaded our luggage into Leisel’s car, and then I told Mamm and Jessica and Silas good-bye. I climbed into the back seat and let Aenti Suz have the front. Leisel told Mamm she’d be back soon and then turned the key in the ignition. But nothing happened.
“Uh-oh,” Leisel said. “I think I need a jump.”
“A j-jump?” I stammered.
“Yeah. It’s probably the battery.”
“Do we have time for that?”
Leisel didn’t respond. She rolled down her window and asked Jessica if there was a portable battery charger around.
Jessica shook her head and then turned to Silas. “Go get Gordon.”
In the end, it was decided Gordon would drive us in case something else was wrong with Leisel’s car, besides the battery.
Silas and Gordon transferred the luggage, and then Leisel said she’d ride along so she could see me for a while longer. She climbed into the passenger seat while Aenti Suz and I climbed into the back.
I expected Jessica to take a look at Leisel’s car to see if she could figure out what was wrong, but she headed into the house, with Silas close behind her. Mamm stayed and waved at us as Gordon headed toward the highway.
His car was as freezing as ever, and Leisel joked that it was even colder than hers. She and Gordon seemed to have an easy rapport, even though it was the first time they’d met, as Gordon came to work for us after Leisel had left.
She yawned a couple of times, and Gordon told her they could stop for a cup of coffee on the way home.
“I’ll just wait until I get back to Mamm’s,” she said. “I can’t afford any of that fancy stuff.”
He gave her an admiring look, hopefully for her frugality, and then concentrated on passing the truck ahead of us. Gordon asked Leisel about nursing school and then told her about his sister studying political science in Philly. Jah, they all lived in a world I knew nothing about.
The departure destination was the Lancaster Mall, on the Lititz Highway. When we arrived, passengers were already boarding the big, shiny silver bus. Gordon parked in front of a craft store and pulled our luggage from the back. Together, we all carried it to the bus. Aenti Suz pulled our tickets from her purse while I hugged Leisel good-bye. “Come see me in Pittsburgh when you get back,” she said. I nearly laughed at her invitation. Both of us knew I’d never do that.
When I told Gordon good-bye, he grinned and replied, “See you soon.”
“What?!” Leisel exclaimed.
Still grinning, Gordon told Leisel about his upcoming trip to Florida.
“I want to go,” she teased.
I envied how comfortable she seemed with Gordon. But she didn’t have to worry about flirting with him the way I did. She could actually date him if she wanted. My stomach fell at the thought, but I chided myself. Gordon would actually be a good match for Leisel.
I followed Aenti Suz onto the bus, surprised at how big and comfortable it appeared, plus the seats were large and plush.
As we made our way toward the back, a man said, “Suzanne Bachmann?”
I hardly ever heard anyone call her more than “Suz.”
She stopped and said, “Oh, goodness. David Herschberger. How are you?”
“Just fine.” He had a tidy white beard, bright blue eyes, and laugh lines all around his mouth. “It’s been a long time.”
“It certainly has.”
He pointed to the two seats across the aisle. “Why not sit here? We can catch up.”
Aenti Suz glanced at me. I nodded in agreement, although I feared David, whoever he was, would keep her from telling me more of Annie’s story, which I longed to hear. Who had come to take Felicity and Mingo away?
Once everyone had boarded, the bus driver turned out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. Soon we were on our way. Snow carpeted the landscape, but the roads were clear.
David turned out to be a real talker, but he also seemed kind and caring. I listened as the two chatted, and what I gathered was that they’d known each other back when they were both Youngie, and I surmised that David had been sweet on Aenti Suz, perhaps, but she hadn’t returned his feelings. He lived in Chester County but had cousins who lived not far from us.
In time, he’d married and had six children, all long grown, and now fourteen grandchildren. Sadly, his wife had died three years before.
“I went to Pinecraft for the firs
t time last year,” he said. “I wasn’t interested, but my kids paid my way. I was surprised by how much I liked it. So much so that this year I’m paying my own way.”
I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was smiling, and I imagined his blue eyes sparkled.
He asked Aenti Suz about herself, and she explained that she’d been living on her family farm all these years.
She patted my knee. “Thankfully I have two nephews, three nieces, and great-nieces and nephews who have made my life full.”
He cleared his throat a little before asking, “So you never married then?”
“Jah,” she answered. “That’s right.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I wondered what was behind the long pause, but then he said, “I always liked your brother, Gus. How is he doing?”
As Aenti Suz told him about Dat’s death, I closed my eyes and tuned out their conversation, overcome with grief. Perhaps remembering Dat’s harmonica playing while at the shelter the other night had stirred up something in me. I didn’t want to sing or hum in such close quarters, but music started inside my head anyway. Dat’s harmonica music. And a silly song he’d made up. C, a cat, a curious cat. D, a dog, a doting dog. E, an elephant, who charged into our song! F, a frog, a great green frog. G, a goat, a goofy goat. A, an ant from in the barn. And B, a bull! Run, run, run, run! Dat started out every music session with the “Cat, Dog, Elephant” song. Next he would have me sing it alone without the music. Then he would ask me to sing Cat and then Dog and then Elephant. And then Frog, Goat, Ant, and Bull too. Over and over. Sometimes Leisel would join in on the fun, but she seldom replicated the notes. Dat never praised me or criticized Leisel. Sometimes he would smile, but never at me more than her. It was my favorite time of the day and far more enjoyable than school or the wash or cooking or anything else that I did.
Mamm had already forbidden me from singing in the house, so my time in the barn with Dat was my only chance except on Sunday in church. But then the tempo was so slow and many of the voices so off-key that it was a distraction for me and not nearly as enjoyable as the time in the barn.
The last time we sang together, after I’d sung the “Cat, Dog, Elephant” song several times and practiced hitting each note several times, Dat started playing “Amazing Grace.” “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound . . .” I sang. And danced, just a little. Leisel ran circles around me. I couldn’t remember where Jessica was, perhaps cleaning out the milk vat.
We’d been having our music time in the barn probably since I was five. By that time, I was nine, nearly ten.
“That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, Was blind, but now I see.”
The music stopped, but I kept singing. “’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear—”
“Gus, what is going on out here?”
I turned slowly. Mamm stood in the doorway of the barn, her arms across her chest and her mouth turned down.
“Now, Bethel,” Dat said. “Everything is all right.”
“Clearly it’s not.” She turned toward me. “Marie, you go on into the house and set the table. Leisel, you go with her and help.”
We did as we were told. After supper, while I did the dishes with Mamm, she told me I’d be doing the cooking the next evening while she sewed. When we went to bed that night, after Leisel had fallen asleep, I asked Jessica what Mamm had said to Dat after she sent me to the house.
“Nothing,” Jessica answered. “She just took Dat’s harmonica and put it in her apron pocket.” Jessica told me not to worry about it. “Nothing will change. He’ll get it back.”
But as far as I knew, he never did. I never heard him play after that, nor did I ever even see his harmonica again. There were no more sessions in the barn, and I cooked supper every single night after that.
As it turned out, I became Mamm’s helper with all of the household chores. A few times, she talked about her childhood and how privileged I was. She was the youngest of seventeen children, and by the time she was grown her mother had died and her father was frail. She and her Dat lived in the Dawdi Haus on one of her brother’s farms, and then she took the job at the bakery where she met Dat.
“Your father was more than I ever dreamed of,” she said. “I pray God will bless all of you girls with such good husbands.”
I knew she loved him, but she never seemed particularly warm to him or cared about his interests. She simply went about her work, not interacting with him much. He was so full of life and interests. I guessed his intellectual needs were met by the work he did researching supplements and recommending them to others, and on the different farming techniques he was always implementing. He traveled too and served, such as in Haiti after the earthquake. I knew he found all of that fulfilling. Not that he didn’t love our Mamm—I know he did. What Aenti Suz shared about Mamm changing after Rebecca’s death actually made a lot of sense. Fear had changed her after they’d been married for some time.
Jah, I spent most of my time with Mamm, but losing Dat had shaken my world. He was the one who’d truly made music come alive for me. Although, it had only made it harder in the long run.
Still, I missed him every day.
With David across the aisle, Aenti Suz didn’t tell me any more of Annie’s story. I slept as much as I could, and as we continued through the night, Aenti Suz and David finally slept too.
The next morning, we crossed the border from Georgia to Florida. Pinecraft was located on the western side of the state, on the Gulf of Mexico, midway down. I’d heard that Pinecraft had started out as a tourist camp nearly a hundred years ago, with over four hundred camping sites, a park, and a community building. Starting in the 1940s, the sites were gradually replaced with homes and developed into a residential neighborhood.
Nearly twenty hours after we left Lancaster, we arrived in the parking lot of the Tourist Mennonite Church. It was a plain, one-story white building with an aluminum roof.
I held my coat in my arms as I followed Aenti Suz off the bus. The air was warm and humid and felt wonderful.
Several people on big tricycles, a funny sight because in Lancaster we didn’t even ride bicycles, waited to greet us. There were also several golf carts, some of which were quite large. David and Aenti Suz started toward the bags that the driver was pulling out of the luggage compartment of the bus, and I stumbled after them.
“We’ll get a cart for the three of us,” David said. “I know where your cottage is; it’s not far from where I’m staying.”
A few minutes later, we were all on a golf cart driven by a young Mennonite man from Ohio, our luggage stacked behind us. On either side of the street were rows of white bungalows, all quite small. Some had picket fences around them, and all had some sort of front yard that was very tiny. David chatted away with the driver. “Would you tell us what the Youngie do around here?” David asked. “Marie needs to know.” He shot me a smile, his eyes dancing. I wondered if he hoped to get rid of me so he could spend more time with Aenti Suz.
“Oh, there’s lots to do,” the driver said. “Volleyball. Cookouts. Games in the park. Gospel singings.”
“Sounds like back home,” David said.
“Jah,” the young man said. “But a whole lot warmer. And more fun too.”
Everyone laughed, even me. Gospel singings sounded especially appealing.
Aenti Suz asked if the young man knew Elijah Jacobs.
“I do,” he answered. “I think everyone knows him.”
I hoped that was a good thing. We rolled along in the cart, past palm trees and bushes and flowers I couldn’t identify. A car passed us, and then a Plain man with three boys, all riding regular bicycles, pedaled by. Then we passed two Englisch girls wearing crop tops and shorts. I had to remind myself it was January. It felt like July.
When we reached our bungalow on Gardenia Street, David helped us carry our luggage to the door and then pointed up the street. “I’m just a few houses from here. I’ll come by and check on you
tomorrow, after you’ve had a chance to rest up and settle in.”
Aenti Suz thanked him.
Before I could ask her more about David, a Mennonite woman approached with a pie in her hands. “Welcome to Pinecraft,” she called out. “I’m your landlady. You’re going to love it here!”
8
The bungalow was about the size of our back porch, but it had everything we needed. Two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen—all in miniature.
The walls and woodwork were all painted white. Sunlight shone through the windows and onto the wood floors. The living room furniture was beige and the kitchen table and four chairs were all white. The place couldn’t have been cheerier, including the itty-bitty backyard with a patio, a table and chairs, a couple of trees, and pots of tropical flowers I’d never seen before.
The next morning, Aenti Suz and I ventured outside to the patio to eat our breakfast. Thankfully, Aenti Suz had sent a shopping list to our landlady, who had stocked the refrigerator—run on electricity, of course. We also had electric lights and air conditioning. Jah, Florida was very different than back home. No wonder Elijah liked it here.
“Hallo!”
I shaded my eyes and looked toward the fence.
David stood on the other side, beaming at Aenti Suz. “Did you get a good rest?”
Aenti Suz nodded. “Why don’t you join us?”
David came through the gate. “I already had breakfast, but I’ll have a cup of coffee.”
I stood as he sat. “I’ll get it.”
As I returned with the coffee, David was asking Aenti Suz if we would like to go to the beach.
She glanced at me with a questioning look on her face.
“Sure,” I answered.
“It’s less than two miles,” he said. “There’s a bus we can take—we’ll be there in no time.”
After we’d finished our breakfast, David went home to get his things while we cleaned up. Aenti Suz found two folding chairs and two big towels in the closet. “For the beach,” she said, holding everything up for me to see. Then she packed a bag with sunscreen, books, water bottles, and snacks.
