However, he couldn’t monitor every thought Peter had about her. Such as the one that ran through his mind later that afternoon when he entered the house and she turned from the oven to greet him. I could go back outside right now without eating a single morsel and I’d still have enough energy to work for eight more hours, just because of her smile, he thought.
Fortunately, he got to enjoy her smile and her cooking, a double blessing. After Marshall said grace, Conrad commented, “Oh, wow—beef Stroganoff. My favorite!”
“I’m hallich you like it,” Susannah replied.
“You should hear him talking about your cooking,” Benuel added. “He spends the entire morning wondering what’s for lunch and then the entire afternoon guessing what’s for supper.”
Jacob joked, “He talks about food as much as Benuel talks about weibsleit. Especially about—”
Peter abruptly cut him off, and commented, “Sounds like you menner are doing a lot of talking when you should be working.”
He knew it wasn’t his place to admonish Jacob, but he hadn’t wanted him to embarrass Susannah by announcing that Benuel frequently brought her up in conversation. He anticipated Marshall was going to be annoyed that Peter had usurped his position, but the old man simply said, “You’re all doing a lot of talking when you should be eating.”
So the group finished their meal in relative silence. Afterward, when Marshall had gone into the bathroom, Lydia was standing in front of the sink as the other men were beginning their exodus out of the house, so Peter leaned over and whispered to Susannah. “Your turkey Stroganoff was appenditlich.” He’d been able to taste that it wasn’t beef and he actually preferred it the way she’d prepared it.
“Shh.” She squeezed his forearm with one hand and put a finger to her lips with the other. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Just then, Marshall crossed the threshold into the room. Peter immediately lurched away from Susannah and toward the door, his heart pummeling his rib cage. But her grandfather clearly hadn’t noticed that they’d been sharing a secret because he trailed Peter out to the fields without saying a word.
I’ve got to be more careful the next time I make a private comment to Susannah, he thought. And there would be a next time. Because he’d decided that no matter how hard Marshall had been trying to control what Peter said to her—and no matter how hard Peter had been trying to control his own thoughts about her—he wasn’t going to stop trying to make Susannah smile.
* * *
Susannah couldn’t help humming as she cleared the table; having a more harmonious relationship with Lydia and Peter again put a song in her heart. Lord, please help Dorcas and me restore our friendship again, too, she prayed. While she thought her friend’s bitter attitude toward her was undeserved and the comments she’d made about Benuel and Peter were unfounded, she couldn’t completely get them out of her mind.
Primarily, Dorcas’s remarks made Susannah question whether she’d made it plain enough to Benuel that she wasn’t interested in him romantically. I’ve tried to communicate that to him, both indirectly and directly. I’ve ignored his flirting. I repeatedly said my purpose in riding with him on Sunndaag was so I could make a phone call. What else can I do? she ruminated. It wasn’t as if he’d actually asked to be her suitor yet. So it would have been vain and presumptuous to take him aside and say, “I want you to know I have no desire to be courted by you.”
In addition to that dilemma, Susannah again found herself wondering if Dorcas herself hoped to start a courtship with Peter. She hadn’t explicitly said that she did. But given that she’d claimed a woman usually only accepted a ride from a man if she was interested in him romantically, Susannah thought it was reasonable to infer Dorcas wanted Peter to be her suitor. Not only had she ridden with him twice, but her voice also became sugary sweet whenever she spoke to him.
The possibility that Dorcas was enamored with Peter troubled Susannah. And although she tried to tell herself it was because she didn’t want Dorcas to get hurt the way she’d gotten hurt by him, in her heart Susannah knew that wasn’t the only reason. It was also because if Peter did end up courting Dorcas, it would confirm that Susannah’s weight had nothing to do with why Peter broke up with her. And it would indicate that he thought Dorcas was a better match for him than Susannah had been.
Dorcas wants a suitor and she wants to get married. So what is wrong with me that I wouldn’t be hallich for her—and for Peter—if it turned out they were Gott’s intended for each other? she asked herself. It’s not as if I’d want Peter as a suitor again...is it? She wasn’t so certain of the answer to that question any longer. But Susannah did know that she definitely wanted Dorcas for her friend and that they needed to resolve the tension between them.
She decided Thursday would still be a good day to seek her out, so she woke early that day to make a special treat to bring with her. Dorcas loved a dessert called funny cake, so-named because it was half pie and half cake. She also loved pumpkin pie. So Susannah made a funny cake that required pumpkin. Assuming Lydia was right about Dorcas trying to lose weight, Susannah reduced the amount of sugar and flour listed in the recipe. Since she had extra pumpkin, she used it to make muffins, which she added to the thermal bag she prepared for her grandparents to take on their excursion to the medical clinic.
“I put extra goodies in with your lunch in case your appointment runs long,” she told her grandparents later as she walked them out to where the driver was idling his car.
“Denki. We should be home by around seven o’clock, but don’t worry about us if we’re not.”
As Susannah watched Marshall help ease Lydia into the back seat, they both seemed so vulnerable to her that she silently prayed, Please, Gott, watch over them on their trip. If it’s Your will, give Lydia gut news about her wrist. And if the news is bad, give her grace and strength.
After waving to them, she went back inside. The house felt oddly empty without Lydia in it, but Susannah didn’t have time to dwell on any twinges of loneliness; she had to get busy making chicken-and-pepper fajitas for lunch. They weren’t standard Amish fare and Susannah had never made them, but since her grandparents were away, she’d decided to give them a try. She wasn’t sure the boys would like them, but she knew Peter would; the only time she’d ever eaten them was when he’d taken her out to a Mexican restaurant last summer.
Actually, it wasn’t even a restaurant—it was a food truck that had parked in the lot by the large market. Peter had heard about how good the food they served was from Hannes, who’d been hanging out with a lot of Englischers.
Peter was probably relieved when his bruder was baptized into the kurrich last spring, she thought. Hannes must have matured quite a bit since I knew him. Otherwise, Peter wouldn’t be allowing him to manage the shop by himself.
Suddenly, she remembered what Dorcas had said to her last week about how strange it was for Peter to be helping Marshall with the harvest. Susannah hadn’t really thought twice about it, since she’d assumed he was just being a supportive community member. But now it struck her as odd that he’d put her grandfather’s farm before his own business. Especially since yesterday, Peter had mentioned at lunch that the workshop had received a picnic-table order for an Englisch couple’s wedding at the end of October.
I suppose he didn’t count on his business picking up, she concluded. I hope he doesn’t regret offering to help Groossdaadi, though, because if he hadn’t, we never would have become friendly to each other again.
“What’s that I smell?” Conrad asked after the men had come in, washed their hands and gathered in the kitchen about an hour later.
“Hinkel fajitas with peppers.”
“Trust me, you’ll love it,” Peter told him, taking his usual seat next to Susannah’s chair.
“Where’s my plate?” Benuel asked.
“Oh, I put it there, where Lydia usually sits. I figured th
is would give us both a little more elbow room.” What Susannah had really figured was that this was another opportunity to indirectly demonstrate she wanted to keep distance between them.
“But you don’t need more elbow room from Peter, eh?” Jacob asked, and she could feel her face flush with embarrassment. She hadn’t thought about how it would look for her to move one of the men farther away from her, but not move the other.
Thinking quickly, she said, “You know how strongly my groossdaadi feels about being the head of his household and at the head of the table. I didn’t think it was right to put Peter in his chair.”
Her answer seemed to suffice and Jacob dropped the subject. As usual, once they’d said grace and were served, hardly anyone spoke because they were all too busy consuming their food. But after they’d had seconds and their eating slowed, Benuel told her how much they’d enjoyed the meal.
“Es muy bueno,” Peter added.
Susannah giggled. She silently recalled that the day they were waiting for their order at the food truck, the server had asked them how to say “It’s very good” in Deitsch. Then she’d taught them how to say the same phrase in Spanish.
Benuel furrowed his eyebrows. He apparently didn’t enjoy the meal as much as he’d said he did, because he’d only eaten a single fajita. Even more telling, he’d taken two helpings of salad, which was unusual for him. “What did you say?” he asked Peter.
“Nada,” Susannah answered for him. Nada, meaning nothing, was another word the server had taught them.
“Gut memory,” Peter said, complimenting her.
It was such a fun day, I remember everything about it, she thought wistfully.
* * *
Peter didn’t know if Benuel’s nose was bent out of shape because he was annoyed that Peter was joking with Susannah, or if it was because he hadn’t gotten enough to eat. But Benuel glowered at him as he said, “If you’re done making jokes, we should get back to the field. I’ll dig—the buwe can pick.”
“It doesn’t make sense for you to dig. That’s a job for someone who isn’t as strong as you are. You and I need to load and transport the barrels. Let Conrad or Jacob dig. The other bu can pick until it’s time to load. Then we’ll take turns transporting and unloading, as usual.”
“Who did Marshall put in charge? Me or you?”
Marshall had told Benuel he expected him to keep an eye on everything, but the notion of being “in charge” was more of an Englisch one than an Amish one. They were all supposed to work together collaboratively. Furthermore, Peter knew more about harvesting potatoes than Benuel did. But he also knew he had to tread carefully, since Marshall held Benuel in high regard. “I’m just concerned about being one mann short today.”
“If you need another person to pick, I can help after I do the dishes,” Susannah volunteered.
Peter thought that was an even worse idea than Benuel digging; he could imagine how upset Marshall would be. But Benuel was all for it. “Jah. That would be great. Like Peter said, Conrad and Jacob can take turns digging. Peter can do the loading and transporting, and the rest of us can pick.”
How can he expect me to do all the loading, transportation and unloading, just so he can be around Susannah? Peter wondered, fuming inwardly. But he knew the more forcefully he resisted Benuel’s instructions, the deeper Benuel would dig in his heels. So he offhandedly reminded him, “You know if one of us gets an injury, Marshall won’t be able to finish harvesting on time, right?”
“Jah. So be careful out there.” Benuel’s scowl had been replaced with a grin.
Gott, please give me patience, Peter prayed as he headed out to the fields a few minutes later and began picking. Within half an hour, Susannah had come outside, too. Of course, Benuel suggested she work in the row next to him, while Peter and Conrad were picking in rows about fifty yards away. Jacob maneuvered the horse and digger, overturning the earth and bringing the potatoes to the surface.
Although Peter was too far away to hear what Benuel was saying, he could hear him jabbering to Susannah almost the entire time they were picking. On occasion, her voice could be heard briefly. After a while, Benuel’s comments became less frequent and when Peter turned around, he understood why: Susannah had been picking so much quicker than Benuel that she’d moved up the row, too far away from Benuel for conversing. Peter grinned to himself. I knew she wasn’t lazy, he thought.
In fact, a couple of hours later, when Benuel suggested it was time for another break, Susannah objected. “Already? We just took one.”
“The gaul needs water and so do I,” Benuel replied, and Jacob and Conrad agreed.
So did Peter. “Jah,” he said. “I don’t think we’ll be able to fit any more barrels in the wagon. I should make a run to the potato haus.”
“Okay, I know when I’m outnumbered.” Susannah wiped her hands against her apron. As the five of them walked toward the barn, she asked, “Is anyone hungerich again?”
“Jah. Starving.” Conrad was the first to reply, of course, but the other men quickly echoed his sentiment. So Susannah said she’d bring a treat out to them. After they’d walked out of the fields, she headed in the direction of the house while the men headed toward the barn. Peter was alarmed to see Hannes’s buggy and horse hitched to the post and Hannes was heading in his direction.
Peter immediately suspected their mother was ill. But he waited until Hannes had greeted the other men and they’d gone into the barn, then asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just need your signature on a few things for the project.” Since Hannes wasn’t eighteen yet, Peter had to sign off on all their legal documents, including purchase orders. “I wanted to put in the order for the wood today so it’ll be delivered by Samschdaag. Eva needed me to take her to the grocery store, so I picked her up from schul on my way.”
Peter glanced at the empty buggy. “Where is she?”
“She went up to the haus to say hello to Lydia and Susannah.”
“Oh.” Peter reviewed the paperwork to be sure his brother’s figures were correct. Then Hannes handed him a pen and he signed it. “If you want to bring this to the lumber yard before it closes, you’d better go see what’s keeping Eva.” Peter always got a little nervous about what Eva might say to other women once she got chatting.
Just as he finished his sentence, he spotted Eva coming out of the house carrying a pitcher and some paper cups. Susannah was behind her with a basket.
“Hi, Hannes,” she greeted his brother when she was within earshot. Her face was dirt-streaked and her hair was “poofing up,” as she used to say about it, but she had a bright, warm smile. “Would you like a muffin and cider?”
So Eva and Hannes joined the others as they stood around the entrance of the barn, eating their snack. Peter noticed his sister seemed more reticent than usual and he wondered if her shyness had anything to do with meeting two new boys her age. She was such a smart, pretty and earnest young girl and Peter knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d want to have a suitor. But right now, she’s far too young, he thought. Fortunately, Jacob and Conrad seemed to be paying more attention to their muffins than to her.
“We’d better get going,” Hannes urged Eva as soon as he’d finished eating. “I want to get to the lumber yard by four thirty.”
Eva quickly popped the rest of her muffin into her mouth. Before leaving, she said to Susannah, “I’ll see you on Samschdaag.”
Peter’s heart skipped a beat. “What happens on Samschdaag?”
“If Lydia doesn’t mind being alone, Susannah wants to kumme visit Mamm.” Eva’s face was aglow. “And she’s going to teach me to make one of her favorite recipes. Isn’t that nice?”
Nice? It’s baremlich! When Marshall finds out, he’s going to think this was my idea, Peter worried to himself. And who knows what Susannah’s going to think when she sees Mamm.
* * *
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br /> After saying goodbye to Hannes and Eva, Susannah realized there wouldn’t be time for her to visit Dorcas after all; besides, she’d rather keep picking potatoes. Although her lower back was sore, she felt revitalized by the fresh air and hard work. Because she needed to use the restroom before returning to the fields, she started back toward the house with the tray and basket. Peter tramped toward the buggy wagon, while the men went back into the barn to fill a bucket for the horse and try to find the oil to grease the bearing components of the digger. She had gotten halfway to the house when she remembered to check the mail to see if Charity had sent her the recipes she’d requested, so she turned around.
Peter must have forgotten something, too, because she saw him heading back to the barn. Head down, he ducked inside the open barn door just as she approached it a few yards behind him. She was planning to tell the young men it would be a few more minutes before she joined them when she heard Benuel’s teasing words. “I saw you eyeing Peter’s schweschder, Conrad.”
“If you did, it’s only because I never saw a maedel eat anything so fast,” Conrad replied, causing someone—Benuel? Jacob?—to laugh. “If she keeps that up, she’ll wind up as big as Susannah used to be.”
Susannah stopped cold in her tracks, a bilious taste rising in her mouth. She wanted to flee, but her legs felt as stiff and heavy as iron. Even though she hadn’t reached the door yet and she couldn’t see where anyone inside was standing, it was obvious to Susannah that none of the other men knew Peter had entered the barn. She was close enough to hear him loudly clear his throat.
“Er, sorry. I was just—” Conrad began, but Peter finished his sentence for him.
“You were just being unkind and ungodly, that’s what you were doing.” Peter’s voice was deep and angry. “You were being self-righteous, too. Because if you want to see someone wolf down twice as much food in half as much time as my schweschder, you should look in the mirror, Conrad. Even more importantly, you should remember what the Bible says about people looking on outward appearances, but the Lord looking at the heart.” He cleared his throat, then added, “And you aren’t on your rumspringa anymore, Benuel. So if I hear another inappropriate comment about weibsmensch from you, no matter who it is, I will hold you accountable before the elders and deacon. Understand?”
An Unexpected Amish Harvest Page 12
