It took another three weeks, but the Got To Candy website was at last up and running. Jennie wanted to burst with pride over the work her children had done. Willa’s designs were in the same whimsical spirit as the candy labels, and Tim had done a terrific job translating them into bright pastel-colored screens that were charming and easily navigated. He asked a boy from school to take photographs of the candy, which had produced beautiful, appetizing portraits of everything in all different types of packaging. Jennie would have liked to show the site to Mattie but didn’t bother to suggest it, unsure if she would be putting her friend in a position where she could be breaking a rule by looking at a computer screen.
The whole situation seemed unreal. The moment when Jennie grasped that it was happening was when she opened the delivery of a thousand business cards, purple ink on white stock. There was Willa’s logo design in her spidery script: a hand holding a lollipop, the drawing leading into the company name. Jennie stared at the mailing address, a post office box she had started renting, and the link to their website. Would anybody order anything?
A routine emerged. Every day Jennie made fresh batches of candy that she delivered to the Fishers’. In the afternoons, Willa went over to work on packing the candy with Nan and Ellen. After two hours, she came home to do schoolwork and eat dinner while the Fishers continued. Jennie worked from the house, processing online orders, ordering ingredients and shipping supplies, and trying to generate publicity for Got To Candy. When she was done for the day, Jennie would go over to the farm to hand over the new written orders, sometimes slipping them under the kitchen door if she got there too late to find anyone awake. In the mornings, Mattie took what had been prepared for the market, every package containing a business card so customers could order online. It was exhausting for Willa but even more so for Jennie, who found herself working or thinking about Got To Candy round the clock, every single day.
She could hardly complain. As if out of nowhere, the orders started appearing and never let up. Soon Sarah Fisher had joined her sister and cousin putting together boxes to be shipped. Jennie promised to pay Tim, who now had his driver’s license, to take the packages to the post office and ship them every other afternoon. She and Willa agreed that they were, respectively, president and vice president of the company and shouldn’t get paid yet. Any profit they made later, Willa told her mother, should be put into a savings account for college. Jennie hugged her daughter and told her that was the perfect plan. She decided her own profits would go into a college fund for Tim.
The day Jennie wrote the first paychecks, to the Fishers and to her son, was one of the happiest days she could remember. She took a special satisfaction when, two weeks later, she paid off the balance to the veterinary hospital for Scout’s old medical bill. As she sealed the envelope, she gave it a quick kiss. After all, she thought, smiling at her own silliness, if it hadn’t been for that bill, none of this would have happened. She baked a chocolate cake, and that night she and the kids celebrated their freedom from the debt.
The only thing that kept it from being a pure joy was Shep’s absence. As usual, he didn’t say anything, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. She couldn’t help thinking he was unhappy about being left out of all the activity and excitement. Yet he expressed no interest. In fact, she noticed he was spending more of what little free time he had at the Fisher farm, helping Peter, Efraim, and Red. There was so much to do on a farm in the summer, they were always glad to have the extra hands.
It was on a Saturday afternoon that she happened to pass by the living room and see him in the process of taking down his awards. She’d thought he was at the farm, but he had come into the house without her hearing. Standing quietly, she watched him pulling the framed certificates off the walls, then prying out the hooks with a hammer. After piling them up, he took an empty carton and started packing his trophies into it. She couldn’t make out what his expression meant. Finally, he glanced up to spot her in the doorway. They stared at each other in silence. Then he went back to what he was doing.
She backed away from the doorway. Those awards had been out and visible since the day they got married. They meant everything to him. They were a part of his identity. Yet he was putting them away, out of sight. Perhaps he felt so bad about himself that he couldn’t face them anymore. Tears formed in her eyes. She didn’t want him to lose himself because of her fledgling business success. But what she realized was that her little business was somehow becoming a part of her identity. And she wasn’t ready to put it away now that she had found it.
Chapter 15
“The stitches are much smaller here, yes?” Ellen Fisher pointed to an area on the quilt and held it closer so Naomi, her seven-year-old daughter, could get a better look. She added something in Pennsylvania Dutch that Jennie didn’t understand.
Ellen was particularly good at quilting, a skill shared by many Amish women. Jennie had chanced to walk in one day when Ellen, Barbara, and Mattie were seated around the quilting frame, working on this very piece, white with a complicated motif of birds, flowers, and hearts. They explained to her that on some days, a number of women came over and they all worked on it together. It was a magnificent piece of art, in Jennie’s opinion. The skill of quilting was taught by mother to daughter, so as soon as Naomi was ready, she would join the others at the table. Jennie loved the continuity of traditions and rituals, the way they were passed down from one generation to the next. She wanted to laugh, thinking about how her own daughter was teaching her about the rituals of technology, rituals being developed in the world outside this kitchen. She wasn’t sure how to think about what was being gained and what was being lost. Although she was thrilled by the success of their candy business, something in her wished she could stay forever in this kitchen, where the timeless traditions were practiced and respected.
She returned to what she was doing, picking up sealed packages ready to be shipped. Tim was outside putting a batch in the trunk. She realized how ridiculous it was that she hadn’t invested in a hand truck; there were too many orders to continue piling them into cartons and carrying those out one at a time. In fact, there would soon be too many to fit into her car. That might mean Tim’s dream would come true, and he would be driving his own car or, in this case, a van of some kind. Right now he was borrowing her car all the time, which wasn’t an ideal situation, to say the least. Perhaps it was time to investigate different ways of shipping, ones that didn’t involve making a trip to the post office. Jennie knew she was lagging behind her own company’s growth, but it was hard for her to believe it was so steadily expanding, orders coming in from different parts of the country. Maybe tourists tried her candy at Mattie’s booth and then went home and ordered more, or maybe her publicity efforts were paying off, but either way, she could see the day coming when she would need more people and a bigger space in which to cook.
Willa and Nan came into the kitchen, their faces reddened by the first day with an autumn chill in the air. Jennie noted with pleasure that they looked comfortable with each other, the awkwardness of their early encounters gone. Both girls were eating apples from the Fishers’ small orchard, half a dozen trees that Mattie tended with great care.
“Um, so crunchy, Mom,” Willa greeted her, holding out the half-eaten fruit. “Want a bite?”
She shook her head. “You guys still working or done for the day?”
“We’re finished. Everybody’s in the barn with the horses. Dad just got here, too.”
“My mother and some of my cousins are going to wash the buggies next,” Nan said.
“Do you need a ride home?” Jennie asked her daughter.
“No, I’ll walk later.”
Jennie smiled, pleased that Willa wanted to stay with Nan. At last, she thought gratefully, they had developed a real friendship. Between Nan and the girl at school, Willa had the companionship she needed and, as she put it, all she had time for. Exiting with her arms full of boxes, Jennie deposited everything in the car, then
went back toward the barn, spotting Tim talking to Peter over by the chicken coop. She found Mattie, ready with a brush and bucket of soapy water, as her eldest daughter wheeled one of the buggies outside with the assistance of some of her girl cousins. Shep was inside, kneeling down beside Red, the two of them examining one of the horses’ hooves. Seeing her, he gave a quick wave. He had brought Scout, who was alternating between barking playfully at the Fishers’ dog, the sedately seated Hunter, and sniffing madly around the barn.
“Can I help?” Jennie asked Mattie.
“No need, thank you.” All the girls had grabbed brushes and were at work scrubbing.
“Okay, I’ll be at my house if anybody’s looking for me.” She went to her car, calling for Tim, who took large, loping strides across the grass to join her.
“Peter and I are going to hang out tonight,” he said, buckling his seat belt. “So can I have the car?”
It was Saturday night, but it wasn’t as if she and Shep had any big plans. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had any big plans. “Sure. Do you know what you’re going to do?”
He shrugged.
“That sounds like fun.” She smiled as she turned the key in the ignition.
The four of them had dinner together that evening, a rare event. Shep and Tim had pretty much given up talking to each other rather than arguing any further. It may have been preferable to shouting, but it hurt Jennie to see; they didn’t make a point of it, yet somehow they managed to avoid addressing each other except when absolutely necessary. Willa, though, seemed to have gained a grudging respect in her brother’s eyes, and he had abandoned his usual custom of giving her a hard time. Jennie found herself reverting to her habit of filling the uncomfortable quiet with chatter. It was funny, she thought: The Fishers didn’t talk much during meals, yet their silences were comfortable and without tension.
After cleaning up, Willa retreated to her room, and Tim went out to meet Peter. Jennie did a quick check of the food supplies for both the house and the business in anticipation of the week ahead, then got into bed with a magazine, amazed by the luxury of having time to read. Within fifteen minutes, she had fallen asleep. The ringing of the telephone woke her up. The room was dark, and Shep was beside her, also awakened by the insistent sound. It must be late at night, she realized.
He picked up the receiver. “Yes?”
There seemed to be a lot of talking on the other end, as he didn’t say anything else for a long while, but swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. At last he spoke. “Okay, calm down, Tim. Did you call an ambulance? Or the police?”
“What?” Jennie bolted up and moved closer to her husband, trying to hear what their son was saying on his end of the phone. “Shep, what is it? Is he all right?”
Shep turned and nodded, mouthing, He’s fine.
“Why does he need an ambulance?” she asked, frantic.
He held up a finger, indicating to her to wait a moment. “Exactly where are you two?” He got his answer. “We’re on our way over. Call for an ambulance, but don’t move, either of you, literally, do not move.”
“Shep, what’s going on?”
“He and Peter got into a car accident. Sounds like Peter got hurt, but I couldn’t make out from Tim if it’s serious.”
Jennie was already out of bed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. The two of them raced out and into Shep’s truck.
“It’s only a mile and a half from here.” He sped out of their driveway.
“What were they doing there?”
“No idea.”
They didn’t say anything else, and Jennie pointed when she spotted them ahead, illuminated by their headlights. There was her car on the side of the road, the front on the driver’s side smashed in, both boys on the ground behind it.
“Ambulance isn’t here yet,” Shep muttered, pulling off the road and stopping short of the boys.
Jennie jumped out. “Tim, Peter, are you okay?” Tim got up and came over to her. She grabbed him in a hug, and he didn’t resist. “Oh, honey, what happened?”
“Why are you walking?” Shep asked in annoyance as he joined them. “You could be injured.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Peter’s the one who got hurt.”
Jennie hurried over and dropped to her knees. Peter was sitting on the ground, bent over, cradling his right arm. He was hurt, yes, but something else about him seemed not right, different somehow. Then it hit her: He wasn’t wearing his Amish clothes. The black pants and light short-sleeved shirt and suspenders had been replaced by faded blue jeans and a T-shirt. He looked like he could be any boy who went to school with Tim. It was almost shocking to see him this way. The Amish clothes were an enormous part of who they were. Still, Jennie doubted he could shed his Amish identity just by changing a few garments.
“Where do you hurt?” she asked.
“Just my shoulder,” Peter said through clenched teeth.
“Did you call the ambulance?” Shep asked Tim.
“I’m not an idiot,” he snapped. “Yes.”
“Did you let your mother know?” Jennie asked Peter. “Should my husband or I drive over there?”
“No!”
She was startled by the sharpness of his response. “She has to be told, Peter. The sooner the better.”
He shook his head, wincing at the pain it caused him. “It will just worry her. This is my right shoulder, so I won’t be able to do any work with it now.”
“You don’t honestly think that’s what she’ll be worried about, do you?” Jennie asked.
“No, but she needs to be worried about it. My uncle and everybody were going to leave soon. Now …” He dropped his head.
Shep came over and knelt on Peter’s other side. “You know it will work out. Besides, it’s not like you can hide this. And soon it’ll heal, and you’ll be ready to run the farm again.”
“You don’t understand …” Peter shut his eyes as his words trailed off.
Tim came to stand beside them. “It’s okay,” he said to his friend. “You can tell them. It’s going to come out now anyway.”
Peter raised anguished eyes to Shep. “I don’t want to run the farm. I never wanted to. I’ve been thinking about leaving.”
“Leaving? To go where?” Jennie asked.
“I mean leaving our faith.”
“Is that what you were doing tonight?” Shep turned to look at Tim. “Were you driving him away somewhere?”
Before he could answer, Peter responded. “No, we were out partying.”
Jennie inhaled sharply. “What does that mean?”
“We met up with some kids at a house a few miles down the road.” He gestured with his left hand. “It’s empty. Being renovated, so nobody’s there at night.”
“We just wanted a place to hang out, you know,” Tim offered, biting his thumbnail.
“A house under renovation is still someone’s property,” Shep said, “so that would be breaking and entering.”
“We weren’t doing anything. Just drinking beer and stuff.”
There was a momentary silence as the unspoken offense of underage drinking hung in the air.
“And then?” Jennie prompted.
“Some idiot called on his cell phone to order a pizza. So we got out of there. We knew once they saw us in that empty house, the police would come.”
“He ordered a pizza,” Shep echoed in amazement. “That would be funny if this situation weren’t so horrible.”
“Go on,” Jennie said. “You’d had some beers and decided to drive away. Tim, did you think you should get behind the wheel in that condition?”
“It wasn’t Tim,” Peter said quietly. “I was driving.”
“You?” Jennie was shocked. “Do you even know how?”
“Yes.” His voice grew softer. “I don’t have a license or anything, but I can drive. Except I guess I had a little too much to drink, because I lost control. The car went off the road, and we hit this rock. It’s prett
y big, so that was that. The airbags deployed, but somehow I wrenched my shoulder.”
“I don’t believe this.” She got up and brushed herself off, walking a few steps away to make sure she stayed calm.
Her son had been drinking illegally, having a party in someone else’s house, then he’d allowed a drunken boy without a license to drive her car. Which had led to this accident. There were about a dozen ways in which she was furious, horrified, and bewildered by his deception and poor judgment. She groaned aloud as another thought hit her: She could never face Mattie again, not after the way Tim had influenced Peter.
As if reading her thoughts, Peter called out to her. “It wasn’t Tim’s fault. This was my friend’s party, and I made him come.”
“All that aside, Tim is responsible for my car,” she answered.
“Okay, wait a second here.” Shep sat down on the ground and looked Peter in the eye. “Let’s go back to the other stuff about leaving.”
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”
“You knew this?” Shep asked his son.
Tim nodded. “We’ve talked about it a lot.”
Shep turned back to Peter. “Makes sense. So, how do you go about making that final decision?”
“It’s a terrible decision to make. My mother would be so upset. But she also wouldn’t have anyone to run the farm. So I haven’t been able to leave.” Peter shook his head in misery. “I’m not sure I even want to do it. I don’t know.”
Shep’s tone was respectful. “Would you mind if I asked why you want to leave?”
Peter stared at the ground. “I feel bad telling you.” There was a long pause before he spoke again. “Like I said before, I don’t want to farm. We respect farming, and it’s a very good thing to have your own farm. But I don’t want to do it, and that’s the worst thing. And I have no brothers who really help. I used to help my father, and it was a lot of work then, but it was okay. Now he’s gone, and there’s no one to help me when my uncle leaves.”
“It’s a lot of responsibility,” Shep said.
An Amish Gift Page 13
