A Simple Singing

by Leslie Gould

  I asked where he’d been. “Over at the Stoltz farm. John came down with the flu and Mildred is in no shape to do any chores, so I fed the animals and made sure they have enough wood on their porch to stay warm.”

  “Do they need any food?” I asked. “I’m going to make beef and barley soup for supper. And bread.” I needed to get started on that. “It will be a big batch. You could take some over for them.”

  Gordon smiled. “That would be great. Thank you.”

  For a moment I considered asking Gordon to stay for supper, but I felt awkward about that. The truth was, he’d been interested in Annie’s story and I really wanted to tell it to someone. Who was I kidding? I wanted to tell it to Gordon. For some reason I believed he would appreciate it the most. But on the other hand, why would I tell him about my ancestor’s leaving the church and marrying a man from another one? I didn’t invite him for supper.

  Aenti Suz did though, when he brought a load of wood to the door for her woodstove. He thanked her and then ate quickly so he could deliver the soup and bread over to the Stoltzes.

  Aenti Suz said he should rest after that, but he confessed that he was volunteering at the shelter that night. “It’s been so cold that they’ve been overwhelmed again,” he said. “And, at the moment, they’re understaffed.” His cheeks grew red, most likely remembering what he’d told me about Tony asking him to work at the shelter. But then he said to me, “Oh, I almost forgot. I saw Chrissie and Rory last week. And the baby.”

  “Oh no,” I answered. “Are they back on the street?”

  He shook his head. “She’s worked things out with her mother and is attending vocational training. She had some baby clothes the little one had outgrown that she brought by.”

  “That’s great,” I said.

  Gordon nodded. “She said to tell you hello and to thank you for your help that night.”

  I gave him a small smile, unsure how to respond.

  “She said Rory still talks about you and your ‘costume.’”

  I laughed. “If you see them again, please say hello. And tell Rory that I think of him often too.”

  After he’d left, we all continued to sit at the table, including Jessica. Leisel sighed and said, “Gordon is going to make some lucky girl a great husband.”

  Jessica smiled and said, “That lucky girl could be you.”

  “Nah,” she answered. “He’s a little too serious for me.” She glanced at me. “But he’d be perfect for Marie.”

  No one said anything for a moment.

  I rolled my eyes and said, “You’re joking, right? He’d never become Amish, and I’m never going to—”

  “—jah, jah, jah,” Leisel said. “You’re like a broken record. Forget I said anything, because I’m certainly not thinking you would leave. That would be crazy talk.”

  As Leisel and I started to clear the table, a knock fell on the door. Aenti Suz opened it, and Silas stepped inside. I hadn’t told Jessica he was better, so she was surprised to see him—and so relieved. They sat down on the couch, huddled together in their grief. Silas swiped his index finger across Jessica’s face, and then pulled her into an embrace. Showing public displays of affection was something Amish couples didn’t do, but the two seemed completely oblivious to the rest of us.

  A lump formed in my throat, and I tried to swallow it down. I was unsuccessful. Instead, I turned toward the dirty dishes as I swiped away a tear of my own.

  A couple of minutes later, Leisel’s cell phone rang.

  “Oh, it’s Nick.” She stepped out of the kitchen. “I’m just going to take this in the bedroom.”

  “Looks like it’s just you and me.” Aenti Suz flashed me a grin.

  “Jah.” I plunged my hands into the hot, soapy water. Two old maids, but hopefully not for long. For both of us. I imagined that once David returned to Chester County, he’d be down visiting Aenti Suz as soon as he could.

  Aenti Suz and I went to church Sunday morning, while Leisel and Silas—and Nick—stayed with Jessica. He’d shown up just before we left. Leisel always claimed they were “just friends,” but I had my doubts. I was surprised Silas and Jessica weren’t going to church but then chastised myself. Both were recovering. Empathy was the correct reaction—not judgment.

  As I sat through the service, I thought of the church in Pinecraft and missed it in some ways. We were all so different there, but still the same. And meeting in a building instead of on a farm hadn’t been as odd as I’d anticipated.

  After the service, Bishop Jacobs sought us out and asked how Jessica was doing. We filled him in, and then he asked about Elijah, a hopeful look on his face. I wasn’t going to give too much away, but I told him how much I’d enjoyed spending time with his youngest son. Bishop Jacobs beamed and then said he spoke with Elijah the night before, and he was coming home sooner than May—perhaps as early as March. The bishop gave me a grateful smile. “Denki,” he said. “We attribute all of this to your good influence on him.”

  I returned the smile, pleased I’d made a difference in Elijah’s life.

  By the time we returned home, the day was warming up, the temperature climbing above freezing for the first time in weeks. The ice hanging on the lines and trees started to drip, and the snow on the side of the road grew slushy.

  When we reached the farm, Leisel and Nick both had their coats and boots on and were having a snowball fight out in the backyard. They’d also built a snowman. As soon as Aenti Suz had parked the buggy, Leisel and Nick ran up to the horse and started to unhitch him. By the time we’d climbed down, they were unharnessing him too.

  “Go in,” Leisel said. “We’ll take care of him.”

  “Denki,” Aenti Suz said.

  When Nick and Leisel returned to the Dawdi Haus, it was time for Nick to leave. He’d been visiting his parents, who also lived in Lancaster County, but needed to head back to Pittsburgh for work. We all told him good-bye and then Leisel walked him to his car.

  After they left, I asked Jessica if the two were serious.

  She shrugged. “They’re definitely good friends.”

  “What do we know about him?” I asked. “I mean, we know he’s not Plain, but does he even go to church?”

  Jessica assured me that he did. “I think he grew up Baptist or something like that.”

  Soon after that, Gordon arrived to take Jessica and Silas home, and he asked me if I wanted to ride along. Aenti Suz told me to go ahead, that she would enjoy spending time with Leisel. I took that as a sign that she wanted me to go. Perhaps she wanted to quiz Leisel about Nick.

  Jessica and I sat in the back, while Silas sat up front with Gordon. The snow continued to melt, although there was enough of it that it wouldn’t be gone in a day, even if the temperature stayed above freezing.

  As we drove along, the men chatted away about farming. In a low voice, I asked Jessica if she remembered Dat’s harmonica.

  After a long moment, she said, “Wow, I hadn’t thought about that in years. But, jah, I do remember.”

  “Any idea if it’s still around?”

  She tilted her head. “I have no idea. I know Mamm wasn’t happy about it. . . .”

  I couldn’t think of where Dat would have put it, and I couldn’t imagine him hiding it somewhere. Perhaps Mamm had never given it back to him, but I was hesitant to bring it up with her.

  After we dropped Silas and Jessica off at their house, Gordon said we weren’t far from his home. “Would you like to stop and meet my mother?”

  That seemed a little odd to me, but I was curious about his home, and his Mamm too. “Sure,” I said.

  Their house was in a group of modest homes, a small subdivision off the main road. He pulled into a driveway, behind another black car. The house was painted sage with forest-green trim, and a welcome sign hung on the front door. Gordon opened my car door, and then stepped ahead of me to open the door to his house.

  As we walked inside, he called out, “Mom! Marie is here with me.”

  I
could hear music from down the hall, but then it stopped.

  “Oh, how nice,” a voice called out. “I’ll be right there.”

  The living room, to the left, had a brown leather couch and a platform rocking chair. There were also shelves flanking a brick fireplace, filled with books. There were no pictures on the wall, and overall the décor was very plain.

  Gordon took my cape and then asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee? Or hot chocolate?”

  “Coffee would be great.” I was chilled from riding in his car, even though the weather was warmer than it had been.

  He stepped into the kitchen, and I followed. It was small but efficient, with a small island in the middle.

  As he poured the coffee, which was already made, a woman stepped into the kitchen. She wore a blue print dress and black sweater, and had her brown hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck.

  She extended her hand to me. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Randi, Gordon’s mom.”

  I shook her hand. “I’m Marie.”

  “I’ve heard so much about you.” She smiled warmly. “All good, of course.”

  Not sure how to respond to that, I said, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  Gordon handed me a cup of coffee, and I took a sip. He turned toward his mom. “I thought I’d show Marie our music room. Is that all right?”

  Randi nodded, grabbing a mug out of the cupboard. “Go on down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “This way.” Gordon nodded his head toward the hallway. We passed three doors that were closed. But the fourth one, at the end of the hall, was open. He motioned for me to enter first.

  There was a large piano, which I guessed his mother had been playing. There were also two different guitars, propped up in holders, and several music stands. There was also a case shaped like a guitar but smaller, sitting on a table. I guessed it was a violin.

  “That belongs to my sister,” Gordon said, following my gaze. “She left it when she went to college.” He smiled. “She was kind of forced to play an instrument but never really took to it.”

  That surprised me. I couldn’t imagine passing up the opportunity to play an instrument. I stepped to the piano, wanting desperately to touch the keys. I hadn’t given it a second thought in Florida when I played the keyboard, but here it seemed I shouldn’t. What happens in Pinecraft, stays in Pinecraft floated in my mind. Even though the saying bugged me, I’d followed it. I hadn’t once felt guilty about singing down there or playing the few notes.

  But here, it all felt different. Still, I held my hands over the keys. “May I?”

  He nodded.

  I took another sip of coffee, put the cup on the table, and then sat on the bench and placed my fingers on the piano keys. They felt different from the keyboard in Pinecraft. I plunked C. The weight was definitely different. I liked it. I picked out “Cat, Dog, Elephant” and thought of Dat. I played the C scale several times. Then I began picking out “How Great Thou Art,” which had been Dat’s favorite hymn. Halfway through I remembered, “Turn, Turn, Turn” and began playing that. Gordon and I sang the words, “To everything, there is a season . . .”

  Randi stepped into the room as we finished it. “I haven’t thought of that song in over a decade, I’m sure.”

  I rose from the bench.

  “No,” she said. “Go on.”

  I shook my head. I’d done more than I should have. “Would you play?”

  She put her coffee cup down on the little table. “If Gordon will too.” She sat down.

  He nodded. I’d guessed he was going to play one of his guitars, but instead he sat down on the piano bench next to his mother.

  I picked up my coffee cup and took another drink as they started to play “Oh, Wondrous Name.”

  Randi began to sing along as they played, and then Gordon did too. He glanced up at me and nodded, so I joined in too. “Oh, glorious Name, the angels praise, And ransomed saints adore . . .” and then sang the rest of the song with them.

  When they’d finished, I asked Randi about the music classes she taught at the high school Gordon had attended.

  “I teach choir, piano, and handbells,” she said. “We don’t have a band or anything like that.”

  “Did you play the guitar too?”

  She shook her head. “His father taught him when Gordon was little.”

  “One chord at a time,” Gordon added.

  I remembered Gordon told me his father had taught him to play the guitar, but it meant more to me now.

  Gordon explained, “I was ten when Dad left.” He didn’t seem bothered to talk about his father, but then he changed the topic and asked if he could show me some chords on his guitar.

  I was a member of the Amish church—I shouldn’t be playing musical instruments. But at the moment I didn’t care. I certainly didn’t feel as if this was taking me away from the Lord—in fact, like before, I felt a harmony in my soul.

  I’d confess to Bishop Jacobs later, if necessary.

  I smiled at Gordon. “Sure, I’d love to learn a couple of chords.”

  He spent the next hour giving me a lesson while his mother played quietly on the piano. At first, I had a hard time stretching my hand, and the strings cut into my finger pads, but I soon got the hang of it and was able to pick out a few songs.

  Finally, I thanked Gordon, and Randi too, and said I should get back home.

  “How about if we warm up our coffee?” Gordon asked. “Would that be all right?”

  I nodded. “I’d like that.”

  We sat in the living room and finished our coffee while his mother continued to play the piano down the hall.

  “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up in a house full of music,” I said.

  “But a cappella singing is so beautiful,” Gordon said. I was pretty sure he was just trying to make me feel better. “And your voice is such a gift.”

  I hesitated for a moment, but then explained that Mamm had forbidden me from singing in the house.

  With a shocked expression, Gordon asked, “Why would she do that?”

  “She was afraid singing would make me prideful.” Guilt was now setting in about playing the piano and guitar. Confessing to Bishop Jacobs was one thing, but telling Mamm would be even harder.

  “I can’t imagine you being prideful.”

  I shook my head. “Then I’ve fooled you all these months. There have been all sorts of things I’ve been prideful about. Me staying in the Amish church when Jessica left, to start. Mamm favoring me over my sisters. How ‘good’ I’ve always been.”

  He rubbed his chin and then smiled. “None of that has to do with your singing.”

  I shrugged. “It has to do with me.” Maybe the afternoon of music had made me more open, more honest. “Sorry.” I took a drink of the coffee.

  “There’s no reason to be sorry. Self-reflection is good. We all need that. And we all have things that we need the Lord to transform.” He leaned closer. “But don’t sell yourself short. You have a lot of good qualities too.”

  I didn’t want to ask him to elaborate, just in case that would put him on the spot and he wouldn’t have an answer. He was probably, like always, just being nice.

  When we finished our coffee, we traipsed back down the hall and I told Randi good-bye. As Gordon retrieved my cape and his coat, I told her quietly what a good son she raised. “I don’t know what my family would do without him.”

  She reached out and squeezed my hand. “He feels the same way about all of you.”

  Gordon and I didn’t speak much on the way back to the farm. He walked me to the door of Aenti Suz’s Dawdi Haus, stopping before we got to her little porch.

  “See you tomorrow?” he asked.

  I nodded. I hoped so.

  When I stepped into the Dawdi Haus, Aenti Suz greeted me with a smile. “My,” she said. “That certainly took a while.” Both she and Leisel sat on the couch.

  Leisel nodded and then looked at her watch. “Hours
.” She raised her eyebrows at me.

  My face grew warm as I took off my cape. “We stopped by Gordon’s house, and I met his mother.”

  Leisel blinked several times. “Sounds serious.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not.” I turned toward the spare bedroom where my things were. “I’m going to pack up and stay with Mamm tonight.” I wouldn’t ask her about the harmonica, not until she was feeling better. Edith planned to stay until the morning, but I could take over caring for Mamm tonight.

  As I headed back to the living room, Leisel said she’d walk over with me and tell Mamm hello but not get too close to her. “I really can’t afford to get ill,” she said. She would leave early the next morning to get back in time for her swing shift at work.

  Before we left, I thanked Aenti Suz for everything. Then I hesitated for a moment.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Do you remember Dat’s harmonica?”

  She nodded.

  “Was he allowed to play it, by the bishop at the time?”

  Aenti Suz nodded again. “Jah, it wasn’t unheard of for Amish men to play a harmonica.”

  “Do you know what happened to it?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea. Your mother might.”

  23

  I quickly took over Mamm’s care while checking in on Aenti Suz several times a day. The snow continued to melt until the brown grass actually showed and there were only patches of snow left in the field. I did see Gordon a few times that week, mostly at a distance. Each time he saw me, he’d smile and wave, and I’d wave back. But that was all.

  The flu had weakened Mamm, but she grew a little stronger each day. All week, I longed to ask about the harmonica, but I waited until Friday as we ate chicken noodle soup for our supper. Aenti Suz didn’t join us, giving me the perfect opportunity.

  Mamm was still pale, but she was dressed and had her hair pulled back in a bun. She wore a heavy sweater and her slippers.

  As soon as I broached the subject, I knew she didn’t want to talk about it because she pursed her lips.

  “Do you know where the harmonica is?”