Chapter 5
The market was busy on this Saturday morning, but far less than it would be in the warmer months, when crowds of tourists came to shop. Jennie meandered up and down the wide aisles, enjoying the sights and colors of the virtual sea of homemade and local goods. She loved the sheer variety of things for sale, from candles, quilts, and baskets to meats, herbs, and funnel cakes. At some point she hoped to be able to buy one of the Amish-made glider rocking chairs. She spent at least twenty minutes examining a selection of preserves and pickled foods, finally deciding to buy sauerkraut to serve with hot dogs later in the week. After paying, she realized she was right near one of her favorite booths and veered in another direction, hoping to resist the lure of fudge and soft pretzels. Getting down to the reason she had come today, she stopped to select potatoes and other ingredients to make a salad for supper.
Some of the vendors behind the stalls were Amish, but many were not. Everyone was friendly, and shopping here made for a much more personal and entertaining experience than at the huge supermarket. This was one aspect of their life in Pennsylvania that was special—having this unusual old marketplace right nearby. Unfortunately, she was the only one in her family who cared. Shep was too consumed with the store even to come by, and when she had dragged the kids with her one Saturday, they had busied themselves on their cell phones and shown no interest at all
On the way to the exit, Jennie passed some wooden mailboxes for sale and thought how nice it would be to replace the old one in front of their house. She had to smile, thinking how very far down on the list that item would fall.
The beautiful weather on the drive home was a welcome distraction from her thoughts, an unusually warm November day allowing her to open the car window and enjoy a pleasant breeze. As she approached the turn onto her street, she was surprised to see her husband and children standing by the side of the road with Abraham Fisher and his son Peter. Shep’s truck was parked, and they were all gathered by the Fishers’ buggy, Willa petting the horse as the men talked, their sons standing a little way off, engrossed in their own conversation. As far as Jennie knew, Shep had never met the Fishers, so she wondered what had brought about this little conference. The cars behind her made her less inclined to stop and interfere, so she drove past with a honk and a wave but saw in the rearview mirror that only Willa looked up. She wondered if the Fishers had tourists honking at them frequently so had learned to tune it out.
She greeted an excited Scout when she got home, then washed and cut up the newly purchased vegetables. When the rest of her family still hadn’t returned, she reached for her cell phone to text Willa. Shep wasn’t a fan of the cell phone; he always forgot to check his texts and kept his phone on silent, so she rarely bothered to attempt communicating with him that way. Her children never answered a call from her, and Tim, she knew, was likely to ignore any text from her as well. Her daughter was the only one who might bother to reply.
Where are you guys? she typed.
Fisher farm, came back the answer.
Apparently, the roadside chat had turned into something more. Jennie was thrilled that Shep might be getting to know Abraham Fisher a bit. That also probably meant her kids were meeting some of Mattie’s children. Tim had shown only disdain toward the Amish so far. She hoped spending a little time with them would show him how wrong he was to judge people that way. Maybe some of their good manners would rub off on him. She almost laughed out loud at the image of her son sweetly obeying because he had seen an Amish child do it.
“If only …” she murmured.
Deciding she couldn’t bear to be left out of the action, she beckoned to Scout to join her, and they set out on foot for the farm. Sure enough, there was Shep’s red truck parked in front. On the far side of the house, she saw Tim and Peter sitting on the ground, talking comfortably. Fantastic, she thought. She hoped it was all right for Mattie’s boy to have a non-Amish friend; it certainly made her happy to think her son might befriend him. A good influence, for a change.
She caught a glimpse of her husband crossing the open doorway to the barn. When she reached it, she found herself at the end of two long rows of enormous black-and-white cows, all facing away from one another. The smell of the animals was strong, but the barn was noticeably clean. The two men were halfway down the aisle, Abraham pointing out something while Shep studied one of the cows with great intensity.
“Hi there,” she called softly, afraid of scaring the cows. That brought no response, and she realized how silly it was to imagine that her voice had the power to scare these massive animals. She called out again, louder.
Both men looked up. Shep smiled and gestured for her to come over. “Abraham is showing me around,” he said to her. “Look at this system they have for collecting the milk.”
As he explained and gestured, she was struck by how relaxed his face looked, more relaxed than she had seen him since, well, since they’d moved here. He was clearly so engaged by what they were discussing that his problems were momentarily forgotten. Silently, she thanked Abraham for doing what she had been unable to do.
“I saw you all together on the road before. How did that occur?” she asked Shep.
“Turns out Tim knows Peter. They waved, so I wound up stopping, and we all just started to talk.”
A girl of around ten appeared in the doorway, one of the younger daughters, Jennie surmised, and informed her father that dinner was ready. He nodded.
“My Emma,” he informed the Davises as she turned to leave. “You must stay and have dinner with us.” Jennie and Shep protested, but Abraham ignored them. He called out after his daughter. “Our four guests will eat with us.”
“Yes, Papa.” She disappeared.
Jennie felt terrible about inflicting her entire family on Mattie with no warning, but there was nothing to be done. On the other hand, she was curious about having a meal with an Amish family. The three of them went to the house, the boys getting up and brushing themselves off when they saw their parents approach. Willa, it turned out, was already in the kitchen, standing off to one side while the younger children were busy setting out dishes and platters of cold food.
Mattie gave Jennie a big smile. “You are all here at last.”
Names were exchanged. After Peter, there were three girls, Sarah, Nan, and Emma, the little girl who had come to the barn. Jennie hoped her own daughter was noting that the older two were fifteen and thirteen, surely potential friends for her. They were followed by eight-year-old Joshua, six-year-old Becky, and the two youngest boys. Though Jennie recalled meeting some of them earlier, every child stood politely and offered a greeting. Tim and Willa, she noted, had the good grace not to sulk, though she wouldn’t have described their attitudes as enthusiastic. Shep, on the other hand, warmed up to Mattie and the children immediately, seeming uncharacteristically comfortable with the novelty of this large family gathering for a midday meal.
The Fishers found their seats, one parent at either head of the table. Willa and Tim sat down together, but Willa jumped up when she realized she was sitting on the boys’ side. Her face turned bright red. Jennie wanted to hug her and tell her it wasn’t a big deal but knew that would only intensify her daughter’s embarrassment.
Abraham announced they would say a silent grace, after which Mattie and the girls got up to serve the hot food. Jennie tried to help, but Abraham gestured for her to remain seated. She surveyed what was already arrayed before her: applesauce, bread and butter, beet salad, coleslaw, and two large pitchers of lemonade. Steaming platters of chicken and noodles were set down along with huge bowls of broccoli and squash. She considered what it would be like cooking meals for ten people three times every day. With the addition of the Davis family, Mattie was serving fourteen today, but she appeared as placid as always. Once you were dealing with ten, Jennie thought, throwing in a few more probably didn’t matter much. She suspected that Mattie could have thrown in a few dozen more without being fazed.
Abraham and Shep d
iscussed carpentry while the others ate, their silence punctuated only by requests to pass this or that. Clearly, Jennie noted, Abraham was the boss around this household. The children did not interrupt, much less ask questions or offer opinions on any subject. How different from their table, she thought, with her two children voicing their usually dissenting opinions whenever the mood seized them, and expecting their parents’ full attention when they did so. Right now Tim looked impatient, while Willa kept her eyes down for most of the meal. Jennie took the opportunity to look more closely at the Fisher children, all remarkably neat in the middle of the day in their jewel-toned dresses or shirts and black pants. Even the four-year-old was managing his meal, his siblings assisting him when necessary. Jennie was sitting across from Tim, and when she felt the familiar sensation of her son nervously jiggling his leg, she shot him a dark look, and he stopped.
“Everything is delicious,” she said. “Did any of it come from your garden?”
Mattie looked out over the table. “The beets, the cabbage and carrots in the coleslaw. The vegetables. Oh, and we grow the apples that I used for the applesauce.”
“Fantastic,” Jennie said.
“But we did not,” Mattie added in a teasing tone, “grow the chocolate for the chocolate cake or the coffee beans for the coffee.”
“We are too lazy,” Abraham put in with a smile.
Shep and Jennie laughed. Mattie and her daughters commenced clearing the dishes and brought out dessert. Again, the boys made no move to assist, so Jennie held back from directing Tim to clear his own dishes; it wasn’t appropriate for her to impose her views on these people. She noted that he and Peter were talking quietly. She thought it odd that her son had never mentioned meeting Peter, but then again, he rarely mentioned anything that went on in his life.
As the rich-looking chocolate cake was being cut, Abraham and Shep agreed that they would work together after the meal to repair some broken fencing by the chicken house. In exchange, Abraham would show Shep how he had repaired the roof when it was damaged in a storm. Her husband hadn’t forgotten their roof was going to need work, Jennie realized. It was just another problem he was carrying around in his head, not discussing with her.
“Are you all right?”
Mattie’s concerned question made Jennie realize she had sighed aloud.
She smiled. “Of course. Better than all right. I love this cake, which I should definitely not be eating.”
“A little sweetness is nice, yes?”
“Always,” she agreed.
As everyone got up after the meal, Tim came around the table to his mother. “Peter and I are going to hang out for a while,” he informed her.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?” she asked, smiling. “That’s so great. How did you meet?”
Tim shrugged. “Around. So I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you two going?”
Tim either didn’t hear or chose to ignore her. She watched him and Peter lope off together as Shep gave her a quick wave good-bye, clearly anxious to get to work with his new friend, Abraham.
“Come on, Willa, it’s just you and me,” Jennie said to her daughter. “Let’s help with the cleanup, then we’ll collect Scout and head home.”
The thirteen-year-old, Nan, overheard and came closer to them, directing her words to Willa. “If you would like to stay here, we can do something soon, after the chores.”
Willa hesitated, then cast her eyes downward. “That’s okay. I kind of have homework to do.”
Jennie’s heart sank. Her daughter didn’t have homework that couldn’t wait until later or tomorrow. She just wasn’t comfortable enough to stay.
“Another time, right, honey?” Jennie put in.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay.” Nan smiled and left, not seeming to read too much into Willa’s lukewarm response.
When they got outside, Jennie turned to Willa as she attached Scout’s leash to his collar. “Didn’t you want to stay?” she asked. “Maybe get to know Nan better? I mean, she’s the same age and all.”
Willa looked at her mother in annoyance. “Could you not get involved in everything I do, please? I won’t make friends just because you tell me to. I’m not three years old, you know.”
Oh, how I wish you still were, Jennie said to herself, thinking back to the happy baby her daughter had been. What a lovely idea.
In bed later that night, Jennie caught up on some sewing while waiting for Tim to get home. It had been such a pleasant day, she thought, replaying the meal at the Fishers’. When her son got back, she would get the whole story out of him about how he had met Peter. She wondered what they did after dinner. Maybe when the weather got warm, Peter would teach Tim to fish or something like that—give him a hobby or a new skill. It all made her feel more positive than she had in weeks. Things were definitely on an upswing, she decided, reaching for a pair of Shep’s pants to repair a hole in the pocket.
At last, she heard the door open and Tim’s steps in the front hallway. She waited for the sound of him coming upstairs.
“Where have you been?” It was her husband’s voice, and he sounded angry. He must have been sitting in the living room, so he was right by the front door.
“Out. What difference does it make?” Their son’s tone held its usual defiance.
“You know you have to call if you’re staying out late.”
Jennie could picture her husband leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded, a frown on his face.
“It’s not late. It’s only ten-thirty!” Tim’s voice was rising.
“And you are only fifteen!” Shep was louder. “You can’t just come and go as you please. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
Jennie was surprised to learn that Shep had been calling Tim. First, because she didn’t realize he was keeping such close tabs on their son; and also because her husband must have forgotten that Tim never answered a call from them. This had been a huge bone of contention back in Lawrence, but it hadn’t come up since they moved here, at least not until today. No doubt because Tim hadn’t had any place to go at night.
“I didn’t have my phone. I’m pretty sure I left it in your car.”
That was a flat-out lie. Jennie had seen it sticking out of his back pocket when he was leaving the Fishers’.
Shep’s tone was clipped. “I don’t believe that.”
“Of course not! You never believe me!”
Jennie shook her head in amazement at her son’s moral outrage when his father was right not to believe him.
“What do you care what I’ve been doing?” Tim went on. “I know what you’ve been doing! Sitting here, watching TV, and getting drunk on your stupid beer. So if I was doing anything other than that, I’m one up on you!”
Jennie’s eyes opened wide in shock. She knew how much Tim hated it when his father drank any alcohol at all, but she had never heard him confront Shep so directly.
“How dare you talk to me like that!”
Jennie slid down in bed and put the pillow over her head. She couldn’t bear to listen to another word. The action immediately transported her back to the nights when she was a young girl and her parents would argue. She remembered so many nights taking refuge from the sound of their shouting under her pillow.
“Mom? They’re at it again.”
It was Willa at the bedroom door. Jennie snatched the pillow away from her face.
“Yes, sweetheart?” Of course her daughter would have overheard it as well.
“I hate this.”
“I know, honey.” Jennie moved over in bed and held the covers up to indicate that Willa should climb in. “Come on, we’ll chat a bit, you and I, until they calm down. They’re just blowing off steam.”
Willa rolled her eyes at her mother’s attempt to smooth things over, but she got into bed and snuggled up. Jennie wrapped an arm around her, distracted from the fight downstairs by the rare opportunity to have a gentle moment with her daughter. “I love you,
angel,” she whispered.
“Love you, too, Mom.” Willa’s eyes were closed.
They lay there in silence as the argument downstairs continued, finally reaching a crescendo that ended abruptly when Tim took the steps up three at a time and went into his room, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter 6
“Honey, do you want to send any cards?”
Willa regarded her mother with annoyance. “Why?”
Jennie lowered her eyes to the task at hand, addressing Christmas cards. She had spread out the cards, envelopes, stamps, and her address book on the kitchen table, and was surprised when her daughter voluntarily slipped into the chair across from her, although her face was half-hidden behind her laptop’s screen.
“What do you mean, why? Because you feel like it and it’s nice, I guess. It’s an important holiday. A happy one.” Jennie slipped another card from the box of twelve and tried to come up with something to write to Willa’s homeroom teacher, whom she barely knew. “How about someone you go to school with here? I’m going to send one to the Fishers. What about Nan? She likes you and wants to be friends. It would be a nice overture if she got a card directly from you.”
Jennie was disappointed by the way Willa continued to ignore any overtures Nan made in her direction. In the weeks since they’d had dinner at the Fishers’ farm, Shep had struck up an ongoing friendship with Abraham, and nothing pleased Jennie more than seeing the two of them discussing farming while working on repairs to one of the Fishers’ buggies or the Davises’ broken window sashes; it was wonderful that Shep had someone besides her to talk to, a real friend. Jennie’s affection for Mattie grew with every encounter. Even Tim and Peter had an ongoing friendship; at that moment they were out ice-skating with some of Peter’s friends. Only Willa refrained from warming up to the gracious and kind Fishers.
An Amish Gift Page 5
