by Leslie Gould
What I hadn’t taught her, because I had no idea what to say, was about the birds and the bees. No one had taught me either—but I figured it out through library books. I tried to share what I’d learned with Betsy, by placing the books I’d read years before on her bedside table, then on her bed, then on her pillow. I know she saw them—but I never saw her actually read any of them, even though I kept renewing them, over and over.
After she’d added the fifth place to the table, she said, “Dat seems to like Pete a lot. He’s sure to hire him. They were headed to the showroom. You’d better get down there.”
Dat decided Pete would start on Monday, to give him time to settle in at the Zooks’ place. I had him fill out a W-4 form, and after he was done, he and Dat headed down the lane to fix the buggy, taking Thunder along to pull it back home. I hoped when Joseph Koller reached them, on his way to our house, he would stop and help too, but the man came straight to the back door. Betsy poured him a glass of iced tea and insisted I sit with him in the living room while she finished the dinner preparations.
I led the way and directed Joseph to the couch. As he sat down, his hat in one hand and drink in the other, I asked how his business was going. He made wooden toys to sell—to tourists, mostly.
“Gut,” he answered.
Gray hair fringed his bald spot. His beard nearly reached his waist. I wondered if perhaps he was older than I thought, maybe past fifty.
I settled into Mamm’s rocking chair. “How are your children?”
“Gut,” he answered.
“How’s business?” I asked.
“Gut,” he said again.
“Any new designs?”
He shook his head. He’d been making wooden trains and trucks for as long as I could remember.
We suffered through a long, awkward pause. “My Dat will be in soon,” I finally said, wishing he were there right now.
“Jah. I saw him down the lane with a young man fixing your buggy.” He grimaced. “I figured the stranger was here to see your sister.”
I started to shake my head but stopped myself. My face grew warm as I answered, “Jah, and to work for Dat too.”
He didn’t respond to that, so after a few more minutes of me silently stewing and him staring blankly toward the wall, I asked him if he’d read any good books lately.
“We’re in Leviticus,” he said.
“Oh.”
“How about you?”
“I just started a biography of Abraham Lincoln.”
He cleared his throat.
I stopped rocking. “Genesis. Chapter four this morning.”
He smiled a little, as if he approved of my answer and nodded, his fringe of thin hair flying up a little. “What’d you do to your buggy?” He crossed his arms as he spoke.
“The boot cracked.”
“Racing will do that.”
Wondering what he’d heard about me, I gave him a cold stare as I stood. “I’m going to help Betsy.”
I hurried into the kitchen. Betsy was humming “Amazing Grace,” a favorite at the youth singings, and stirring the gravy. “It’s your turn to talk with him,” I whispered. “I’ll stay in here.”
“Everything’s done.” She put the whisk on a plate. Besides being a great cook, she was tidy too.
“All the more reason for me to be in the kitchen, then.” I picked up the whisk.
“Oh, no,” she said. “If I visit with him, he might get the wrong idea.”
“Betsy.” I plunged the whisk into the pan and began stirring, frenetically. “Go.”
“He came to see you.”
I hissed, “You’re the one who invited him.”
Betsy put her hands on her hips. No longer whispering, she said, just as the back door swung open, “You’re the one we need to marry off.”
I pretended to be intent on the gravy as I tried my best not to explode.
“Oh, look who’s back,” Betsy gushed. “That was fast.”
“Many hands make light work,” Dat said, hanging his hat on a peg by the door and then washing at the utility sink.
“I’ll dish up,” Betsy said. “Joseph Koller’s in the living room.”
“Alone?” There was a hint of disappointment to Dat’s voice.
I kept my focus on the stove.
“Cate?” Dat grabbed the towel as Pete stepped up to the sink.
“Seems that way,” I answered. I concentrated on the gravy, and a minute later Dat and Pete’s footsteps across the linoleum indicated they were going in to sit with the man.
“Let’s get this over with,” I growled at Betsy as I grabbed the gravy boat.
Without answering me, she opened the oven door and took out a roast, surrounded by root vegetables. Her homemade rolls were already nestled in a basket atop a sky-blue cloth napkin. Next she heaped the mashed potatoes high in a pure white dish.
In a few minutes we had everything on the table, and Betsy stepped into the living room and politely called the men to the table.
I sat down at my usual place, and Betsy directed Joseph to sit beside me. Pete sat across the table, kitty-corner from me, next to Betsy.
After Dat led us in the blessing, he asked Joseph how his business was going. Unlike me, he was able to get the man to talk. A chain of toy stores in Germany was carrying his products, and he planned to branch into Sweden too.
The bouquet of flowers partly blocked my view of Pete, but not enough for me to miss him bending his head toward Betsy and making a comment. I couldn’t hear what he said, but she laughed at it, quickly covering her mouth with her napkin.
I asked Joseph how the trade tariffs affected his profits. His face reddened. “I don’t talk business with women.”
I continued, saying, “I read somewhere—”
Dat cut me off. “Cate,” he said.
I ignored him, keeping my attention on Joseph as I jumped to a new topic. “Who’s your distributor?”
Dat tried a second time. “Cate . . .”
“We should look into the international market!” I exclaimed to Dat. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? “It’s the perfect next step.”
“That might be so,” Dat answered, “but Joseph doesn’t want to discuss this.”
I slumped down in my chair.
Pete winked at me. “Clearly Cate has a head for business.”
I did my best not to smile, but I was pleased with the acknowledgment. Dat simply nodded and sighed.
“How long have you had your cabinet shop?” Pete’s full attention was now on Dat.
“Eleven years,” Dat said. “I started out in construction, framing houses for a local company. Then I moved on to finishing work. After a while I tried my hand at contracting.”
It was a story I knew by heart. He wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t fact—the truth was, Dat had a gift for business. It was all about his relationships with people and the quality of his products and work. He was firm, but he bent over backward to take care of both his customers and his employees. He’d flourished as a contractor, adding more and more clients and employees. But contracting took him away from home and Betsy and me too often, and that’s why he decided to sell that business and start the cabinet shop.
Cabinetmaking allowed him to be closer to us but applied the same principles as contracting. Great quality and excellent customer service. Plus, it turned out he had a knack for designing kitchens and bathrooms. He had orders from all over the country, from Maine to Hawaii. There was no reason we couldn’t ship them all the way around the world.
“Once the cabinet business was on its feet, other entrepreneurs started asking for my advice. That’s when I opened my consulting business.” Dat took another helping of mashed potatoes and passed them on to Joseph. “That’s it in a nutshell.”
“And both your daughters work for you?” Pete asked.
“Just Cate. Betsy’s in charge of the house”—Dat looked directly at Joseph —“although Cate helps with that too.”
“So Cate
has a lot of business experience?” Pete smiled at me through the tulips and daffodils.
“She’s great with numbers,” Dat said.
“And ideas,” Pete added. “But I’m sure you’re just as skilled when it comes to cooking, because the gravy’s delicious.”
I hesitated, confused, until I remembered I was stirring it when he came into the kitchen. In a daze, I said, “Oh, thanks.” I pushed my plate away a little. “Except I didn’t make it. Betsy did.”
“What did you make?” Joseph asked.
“Nothing at all.” I stood, intending to get the water pitcher off the sideboard, making a sweeping gesture as I did to indicate Betsy’s vast accomplishments. But I accidently bumped the flowers, sending the bouquet off-balance. As it shifted, I lunged for the vase, but in doing so, I toppled it over, sending a mini tsunami of water toward Pete. He lurched back, but not soon enough. In a split second his lap was soaked.
After dinner, while I did the dishes and Betsy and Pete sat on the porch and chatted, Dat escorted Joseph Koller to his buggy. It was warm enough to have the window open, and I could hear both the clopping of his horse’s hooves as he headed up our lane and Pete and Betsy’s laughter. Fortunately, I couldn’t hear their words.
Dat came back into the house, dished himself up a second piece of pie, and then practically collapsed back onto his chair.
“That was a disaster,” he said.
I nodded, not wanting to rehash a single moment of the evening.
“I’ll tell Betsy not to bring home any stray widowers from now on, unless they’re under thirty.”
“Denki,” I said.
Dat chuckled a little. “Lucky for Pete, I’m tall.”
I smiled. Dat’s pants had fit in the length but were a little wide around the middle.
I turned back to the dish rack and pulled out the last plate, biting my lower lip as I did. I wanted Dat to understand my humiliation. I wanted him to lift his stupid edict.
“There’s a volleyball game tomorrow night,” he said. “At the Zooks’.”
“Where Pete is staying?”
Dat nodded.
I definitely wouldn’t be going. “Dat,” I said, turning around. “Can we talk about this new rule of yours?”
He took another bite of pie, his face reddening a little as he chewed.
I sat down beside him. “I know humility is a good thing, but this is more than that—this is humiliating.”
He nodded. “This evening was, but my intention isn’t. You need a little nudge, Cate. That’s all. I’ve been too soft on you in the past, too understanding. Not as strict as I should have been. It’s made you neglect your future.”
I exhaled slowly. “I know you want grandchildren, but think about me. I’m already the comic relief of the district. Do you want to turn me into an absolute fool?”
“You’re not a fool, Cate—not at all. But it’s the Amish way to marry. You just need some help.” He put down his fork and reached for my hand, but I jerked it away. My father had never meddled in my life before. To keep from sharing my not so respectful thoughts, I headed straight to the open back door.
As I rushed through it, Betsy’s laughter reached me again. I pounded down the stairs, scaring the two calicos that liked to hang around the house, and headed toward the shop, away from all the fun on the front porch. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.
Why couldn’t Dat leave me alone and let me be content with my lot in life?
I marched toward my favorite tree, the silver maple past the shop.
I don’t remember having problems with my temper before my Mamm died, but afterward I did. When it would start to get the best of me, Dat would tell me to find a place to collect myself. The maple was where I went. Occasionally to think things through. Sometimes to pray. Oftentimes to read. Always to escape.
I grasped the lowest branch and pulled myself onto it, settling against the trunk, serenaded by the frogs down by the creek. Above, a canopy of new leaves swayed in the cool breeze. I could be as willful as Dat. I would simply refuse to court—no matter whom he chose for me. Surely Betsy’s misery would eventually wear him down.
In the meantime, I would come up with a business plan for a publishing company that he’d be willing to finance . . . eventually. Once he accepted that Betsy would be his only source of grandchildren, he was bound to help me with my future.
When I heard Pete call out a good-bye to Dat and Betsy, that he’d see them soon, I craned my neck. It was a good thirty-minute walk to the Zooks’ place, and the sun would soon be setting. A minute later Pete strolled by, reading as he walked.
I longed to know the title of his book. Forgetting my humiliation, and without thinking, I called out, “What are you reading?”
He startled and stopped all in the same moment. It took him a moment to find me in the tree, but when he did, he started toward me, saying, “You wouldn’t tell me good-bye, but you’ll scare me half to death? You are spirited, aren’t you?”
Ignoring his comment, I strained to get a look at his book.
He tucked it under his arm.
When he reached the tree, he asked, “Mind if I join you?”
“Jah, as a matter of fact I do.”
He ignored me, dropped his backpack on the grass with the book on top, and quickly climbed to the other side of the tree. Leaning forward he said, “I was hoping to see you before I left.”
“Why?”
“I enjoyed our talk.”
“But you were laughing with Betsy.”
He shrugged. “Well, sure . . .” He poked his head around the side of the trunk. “Are you always so defensive?”
I ignored him. “So what are you reading?”
“For the answer to that you’ll have to wait, until tomorrow.” He jumped from the branch and picked up his book, tucking it under his arm. “I hear there’s a volleyball game at the Zooks’.” He looked up at me in the waning light.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Betsy would,” he quipped.
“I’m sure.”
“I’ll see you soon.” He picked up his backpack.
I didn’t bother to respond. Clearly, he thought winning my trust would increase his chances of courting Betsy.
A moment later, as he reached the lane, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Good night!” He tipped his hat. “Sweet Cate.”
CHAPTER
4
I contemplated going to the volleyball match on Saturday with one goal in mind—to find out what Pete was reading. But even that wasn’t incentive enough. By that afternoon I’d decided not to go, which meant Betsy didn’t go either. She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day.
Late that night I feigned sleep through the ping of pebbles against our bedroom window. Our Plain courting ways likely seemed odd to outsiders, but that was often how it was done. Parents usually ignored the comings and goings, knowing it wouldn’t last long. Either someone would lose interest or the courting would lead to marriage. Amish youth generally didn’t court casually—if a young man called on a girl it meant he was serious—and parents relied on that. Not everyone who courted married, sure, but it wasn’t our way to date a lot of different people.
Betsy scurried out of the room in a hurry. Regardless of her giggling on the porch the night before, it seemed she was still more interested in Levi than Pete. I could only hope Betsy and Levi were sitting in the kitchen, eating pie.
Although I tried to stay awake until she returned, I didn’t, and the next morning it took me three tries to wake her for church. We ended up getting a late start, which made Dat grumpy. The service was at Mervin and Martin’s farm, held in their Dat’s shop. Their older brother, Seth, walked in front of us with his very pregnant wife as we arrived.
Most everyone was seated when Betsy and I crowded onto the back bench on the women’s side and Dat walked toward the front on the men’s side. I always felt sorry he didn’t have a son to sit with at services. I was extra thankful for Betsy on
Sundays, that I had someone beside me, but I wouldn’t for long, not if she had her way. I was certain she would figure out some way to marry Levi, and then they’d most likely join his parents’ district. Then again, Betsy might decide she was interested in someone besides Levi. Someone like Pete. It was hard to tell.
As Preacher Stoltz stood to lead the singing, a straggler sauntered by. It was Pete, without a book in his hand. The Zooks didn’t live in our district. I could only guess his interest in Betsy had led him to our service. Even so, the sight of him made my heart beat faster.
Pete paused and then made his way down the center aisle and settled on the bench next to Dat. Betsy nudged me, but I didn’t respond.
After forty-five minutes of singing, the sermon began. After a few minutes, Betsy leaned her head against my shoulder the way she had when she was little. If we hadn’t been in the back, I would have made her sit up straight, but as it was I didn’t mind.
Seth’s wife sat in front of me, her back ramrod straight. She wasn’t from our district and hadn’t gone to school with us. I wondered if she had any idea what a cad her husband was.
Near the end of the sermon, my eyes began to droop too. Preacher Stoltz read 2 Corinthians 12 and then, in conclusion, admonished all of us to turn our weaknesses over to God. For a moment my weaknesses overwhelmed me, but then I patted Betsy’s leg as the preacher led all of us in a silent prayer. She sat up straight and adjusted her Kapp. Afterward we helped the women put out the food in the house while the men moved the benches inside. M&M seemed to be in charge of this task, and Dat and Pete helped.
Betsy yawned several times as we carried loaves of homemade bread to the food table in the living room and then began to slice them.
“You shouldn’t stay up so late,” I whispered.
She looked beyond me, and I turned.
Pete stood, smiling at us. “Good morrow, Cate,” he said to me, his eyes sparkling. “Missed you at the volleyball game last night.”
