An Amish Gift

by Cynthia Keller

  “You’ve probably done a huge amount of work, getting this place into shape.”

  He nodded. “You wouldn’t have believed what it was like.”

  “Do any customers come in?” She tried to keep her voice light.

  “Not many. Most of them just see that the store is open again and want to know who took over for Bert. Been a few repairs, nothing big. That’s okay, though, because it’s given me time to study this stuff.”

  “Right.” She had seen him carrying manuals in and out of the house, teaching himself bicycle repairs.

  “I’ve been taking apart different types of bikes and putting them back together. No problem. I got this.”

  “That’s great, honey.” She meant it, although she knew he would be quick to pick up the business of repairs; there was very little he couldn’t fix. “Is there some inventory list somewhere, someplace he kept track of all these bikes?”

  “Haven’t found one yet. That’s something I gotta do soon.” He shook his head. “This guy kept bad records. Or none at all.”

  “I’m guessing no computer.”

  “You guessed correctly, madam.”

  “So you need one here.”

  He shrugged. “Need a lot of stuff here. Can’t afford any of it, so we’ll make do.”

  She gazed at him, feeling a mix of sympathy and admiration for the way he refused to complain. “You could use some help here, honey,” she said. “I’m around, and I could—”

  His face turned hard. “No. This is my store, and I’ll handle this end of things. You have the house to deal with, and you’re doing a great job with it. Plus the kids. They need you home after school, not working here with me.”

  “It doesn’t have to be full-time. I—”

  “No.”

  She couldn’t believe it. The same old stubbornness on this subject. She took a step back, and his arms dropped to his sides.

  “How long can you keep refusing to see that we need me to work?”

  “We don’t. When that day comes, I’ll let you know.”

  She stared at him, her anger building. “It’s ridiculous.”

  His expression turned sorrowful. “Sweetheart, can’t you see that I have to do this myself? If I can’t make it work, there’s nothing else left to try.”

  Once again, she was torn between wanting to let him find his own way and resenting what he was putting the rest of them through because of his pride. Exasperated, she turned to leave. When she reached the door and yanked it open, she found the tinkle of the bells incredibly annoying.

  Chapter 4

  The house’s walls were too thin to prevent Willa’s crying from being heard in the hallway. Jennie stopped outside her daughter’s bedroom door, listening, then gave a tentative knock.

  “Sweetie, can I come in?”

  A muffled answer. “Go away.”

  “Come on, Willa. You know I won’t go away, so let me come in now. Please.”

  Silence. Though none of the bedroom doors had locks, Jennie would have preferred Willa to give her permission to enter.

  “I’m opening the door now, okay?”

  Her daughter was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, her face wet and red. This was not a good day for either of her children, Jennie thought. She, Shep, and Tim had just returned from a school football game, where Tim once more sat on the bench the entire time. Despite attending all the practices, he had yet to play in a single game this season. He had numerous, bitterly explained reasons: The coach didn’t like him, he had missed precious training time before they moved here, he wasn’t a real part of the team because he was the new kid. Whatever the reason, he claimed his high school football career was over; he would never get anywhere after sitting out the season.

  Jennie’s heart broke for him. He had always known he would never be the football star his father was, but he enjoyed playing and had shown some promise the previous year. It was also one of the few interests he and Shep had in common. Over the past few years, they would sit together every so often to watch a game on a fall Saturday, forgetting to argue as they alternately cheered and yelled at the television. Not being allowed to play made Tim hate his new school even more. Jennie understood that he had been counting on football as a way to get included in the social scene and a way to make himself known, and that path was being blocked off. The ride home today had been grim, their son silently staring out the window. Shep had closed the store for an hour to catch the end of the game, and asked Tim if he would come back to help with the inventory Shep was finally doing, but Tim just glared and shook his head. Both Shep and Jennie had been angered by his flat refusal, telling him he had to do his part to make the family’s move succeed. The ensuing argument resulted in Shep speeding out of the driveway alone, brakes screeching, and Tim retreating to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

  Now it was Willa’s turn to be miserable.

  Jennie sat down on the bed and stroked her daughter’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything.” Willa rolled away to lie facedown.

  “Okay. Let’s start with one thing.”

  The girl held up her head to look at her mother. “Mr. Bradley hates me. I’m going to fail English.”

  “Why do you think that? Has there been a test or—”

  “And nobody likes me.” The words seemed to burst out of her. “I don’t have a single friend here. Everybody thinks I’m a total loser. Which I am!”

  “Oh, no, honey, that’s not true at all. You’re the furthest thing from a loser.”

  “Mom, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re a little shy, so it takes some time for kids to get to know you, that’s all.”

  The girl groaned in exasperation. “Could you please just stop? Just stop. And leave.”

  She put her face down and folded her arms to cover her head as if she couldn’t tolerate the sight of her mother. Jennie sat there for a few moments, then left the room. The truth was, she was at a loss as to how to advise her child. She didn’t know what the kids here were like, what the school was like, or even what Willa was like with other kids. She felt useless.

  Nothing seemed to be going well for any of them. It was clear that the store wasn’t doing well, and Shep’s early hopefulness was ebbing. Both the children were unhappy. She was spending her days sanding, patching, and repairing throughout the house, unable to afford to do things right, and feeling as if she were holding the place together with glue and bobby pins. Every afternoon she began the long process of comforting her children as they returned home from another bad day at school. First she would greet a long-faced Willa as she got off the bus and dragged herself to the front door. Jennie had been warned by her daughter not to dream of going out to meet the bus, where the other kids could see her, so she would stay in the kitchen, usually setting out a glass of milk and some cookies, as if this time-honored tradition would somehow help. Her daughter might sip at the milk and take a bite or two of a cookie, all the while reciting a litany of wrongs, injustices, and complaints. Jennie would do her best, but reassurances and advice seemed futile at best. Later, she would leave to pick up Tim from practice. The process was pretty much the same, although he typically ate five or so cookies while he complained. The three of them would have dinner at six-thirty, as Jennie kept up what felt like mindless chatter, while the children alternated between silence and irritability. Then they would retreat to their rooms, theoretically to do homework. Shep usually got home around eight o’clock. Rinse and repeat, she thought. This time there were no cookies, and the milk was replaced by a beer. She would serve Shep dinner and sit with him, but he would be nearly as silent as the children. At least, she reflected, he wasn’t irritable. Again, the only thing she could think of was to keep up a distracting stream of chatter about what she had seen or done that day. Not exactly gripping stuff, she thought.

  She had been so happy when they were about to move here and he had opened up about his hopes for
the new business he was about to inherit, how he would make things work out for sure this time. It had been so long since he had confided in her that way. It was a big part of what had convinced her that this was really going to be their fresh start. Once it became clear that life here wasn’t going to go the way he’d imagined, the old walls came back up. He was locked deep inside himself and wasn’t letting her in. She was at a loss. Should she beg him to talk to her? Demand it? She didn’t know how long they could go on with him being the only one who knew exactly how much financial trouble they were in, and refusing her help on any level.

  She wished there were someone who wanted to feed her milk and cookies and listen to her complain for a while.

  It was quiet now, and she had a couple of hours before she had to start dinner. She grabbed a light jacket and left the house. She had to get some air, find something other than the sense of failure that clung to her as she cleaned or cooked in that broken-down kitchen. Without even thinking about it, she turned at the corner toward the Fisher house. Since the day several weeks back when Mattie had invited her in for coffee, the two of them had exchanged greetings and sometimes stopped to chat when Jennie took her morning walks. She found her encounters with the Amish woman invariably soothing and would go on her way cheered and optimistic. Whatever quality it was that Mattie possessed, Jennie wished she had it as well. Patience, or maybe acceptance. Perhaps it was a sense of security about who she was, or a feeling that her life was what it was supposed to be. Jennie couldn’t put her finger on it. All she knew was that she could use some of it right now, and she was about to find out if a surprise visit was another thing considered acceptable by the Amish.

  Up until today, Jennie hadn’t encountered anyone besides Mattie when she went by the house. Surprised to see children in Amish dress outside, she recalled that today was Saturday, so of course the schedule would be different. Three children were crouching down by a flower bed, examining something, their heads close together. A teenage girl was walking toward the house, holding the hand of a little boy who looked to be around five or six. Two men wearing wide-brimmed straw hats stood outside the barn, talking. From this distance, she guessed one was Mattie’s husband, Abraham. The other might be their eldest son, Peter. She stopped, taking in the scene before her, a busy family engaged in activities. Compare this with her family, she reflected, isolated from one another, all sulking in different places. She closed her eyes, overcome by sadness.

  She heard her name being called and opened her eyes to see Mattie on the front steps, smiling.

  “A nice surprise. Please come and meet my family.” Mattie waved her over and met Jennie halfway, leading her to the flower bed. The children stood up as their mother and her guest approached.

  “This is Mrs. Davis.” Mattie pointed to the children as she said their names, starting with the oldest. “Joshua, Becky, and Aaron.”

  Jennie thought she had never seen such adorable, well-mannered children. As they were introduced, they looked her directly in the eyes with some obvious curiosity, smiled politely, and nodded. The boys wore dark pants with suspenders and dark blue short-sleeved shirts. Their blond hair showed beneath straw hats with flat brims and a black band, smaller versions of what their father wore. Becky, like the other girl Jennie had seen walking to the house, wore a replica of what her mother had on, a white head covering and a long dress, minus the apron. The girl had the same pulled-back hairstyle, down to the neatly twisted side pieces.

  “I’m glad to meet you,” Jennie said. “I live nearby, so we’re neighbors. Well, in the same neighborhood.”

  “Do you live on a farm?” Joshua asked. He had an accent like his mother’s, Jennie noted.

  “No, not a farm. Just a house. My husband runs a bicycle shop.”

  The little girl’s eyes lit up. “We know how to ride tricycles. Do you want to see?”

  Mattie frowned. “We do not put on such shows.”

  Becky turned at once to her mother, looking abashed.

  Jennie didn’t understand what had just transpired but sensed she had somehow caused the discord. “Perhaps I’ll come by one day when you’re on your tricycle, and I’ll see you riding.”

  They were interrupted by the arrival of Mattie’s husband and the boy, who did turn out to be their oldest son, Peter. Further introductions were made. Abraham had a beard but no mustache, and his hair was in the long bowl cut Jennie had seen on other Amish men, with bangs across the forehead.

  “You and your family are in Bert Howland’s house, yes? My wife tells me you walk here with your dog. You didn’t bring him today?” Abraham asked, setting down several empty buckets.

  In her haste to get away, Jennie realized she hadn’t thought to bring Scout. “No, but he would be delighted to come by anytime. He loves meeting new people.”

  Abraham let out a piercing whistle, and from behind the barn, a large dark brown dog appeared, racing across the grass until he reached them. Abraham made a clicking sound, and the dog immediately sat down, panting but otherwise immobile. “This is Hunter.”

  Jennie laughed. “I can’t imagine my dog being half as obedient as that. He would no more come when I whistled or sit like that than he would fly to the moon.”

  “He spends time with me, and I teach him. It’s not hard,” Abraham said with a smile.

  “Can you teach me to do that with my children?” Jennie said it without thinking, then froze, afraid she had gone too far.

  Both Mattie and Abraham laughed. “If only it were that easy, yes?” Mattie said.

  Relieved, Jennie turned to Peter, who had been standing quietly. He was tall, and slightly darker than his parents in skin tone and hair, but his eyes were identical to his mother’s.

  “Do you work with your father on the farm after school?” she asked.

  “I’m finished with school.” His words held no trace of his parents’ accents. “We’re done in our regular school after eighth grade. Then we have some regular meetings until we’re fourteen, but it’s more about our work and what we do with our time. I’m sixteen. And yes, I help on the farm.”

  “One day this will be his farm, and I will help him,” Abraham added.

  Peter didn’t say anything, and Jennie wondered if she saw something in his eyes that didn’t look happy. She admonished herself to stop reading into things about which she knew nothing.

  “Well, I don’t mean to interrupt your day. I just wanted some fresh air, really.”

  “I am about to go into the vegetable garden. If you have time, I will show it to you,” Mattie said.

  Jennie brightened. “I’d love that. Maybe I could learn how to plant a few vegetables myself. I’ve always wanted to.”

  She said good-bye to the men. As they turned away, she heard Abraham say something to his son in another language, and Peter responded in kind.

  “Does your family normally speak in”—she hesitated—“is it German?”

  “It is our language, called Pennsylvania Dutch. You would say a dialect of German. Our Bible and songbook are in German, though.”

  “And you all speak English as well. Wow.”

  She followed Mattie around to the back of the house. They passed another large white barn, and Jennie saw through its open doors that it was, for the most part, dedicated to the horses, with multiple stalls and a wide-open area where two horses were nuzzling; a walled-off section acted as a garage for two closed buggies and a smaller, open one.

  When they reached the garden, Jennie’s eyes widened. “This is huge. Do you do all this yourself?”

  “My older daughter, Sarah, and the little ones help.”

  “What are you growing?”

  They walked up and down the neat rows, Mattie pointing as she spoke. “Many things are done for the season, and the garden is cleaned out. Over there are lettuce and string beans. We grow many herbs. Here we have parsley, dill, mint, and some watercress. Here is where we had cucumbers, tomatoes, and squash. Oh yes, peas and eggplant. We grow about twen
ty-five different things.”

  “It’s beautiful. I’d love to watch when you plant something, maybe learn how to do it.”

  Mattie smiled. “I would be very glad to show you.”

  Jennie looked around at the barn and fields beyond. “It’s so lovely here. Peaceful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wish …” Jennie fell silent. Mattie looked at her, kindness in her eyes, but said nothing. “Time to get going.” Jennie straightened up as if bracing for the return home. “I’m so glad I got to see your family.”

  “This was just a few of them. You must meet the rest. They are busy with chores. We do a lot of cleaning on Saturday because tomorrow we go to worship.”

  Jennie nodded as they went toward the road. “I can fit all of my family into one quick introduction. But I hope you’ll meet them soon.”

  “It will be good to have a chance.”

  They reached the front of the house, exchanging good-byes before Mattie went inside. Feeling buoyed by the visit, Jennie was determined to go home and turn things around somehow. Could she get the kids to play a board game? She would make popcorn or drive somewhere to pick up ice cream. They weren’t little anymore, but surely they could come up with something to do that didn’t involve sitting in front of the television or a computer screen. All she knew was that this was going to be a fun-filled Saturday night at her house if it killed her.