Holding a Tender Heart

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “Mamm just preferred Alvin Knepp’s actions to her own daughter’s,” Verna offered. “And Lois had her feelings hurt.”

  “Oh.” Ida went back to work on Debbie’s dresses.

  Verna glanced toward Lois. “Mamm has her reasons, you know. And you could do something about that.”

  “I can’t help it that I love the Englisha world,” Lois said.

  Verna studied her sister’s face. “I hope you take care of that problem of yours before it gets you in plenty of hot water with Daett.”

  Lois ignored Verna. “You know what?” Lois said, her face brightening. “I’m going to be happy. I have Debbie now. She’ll bring a refreshing wave of brightness and color to this house. Look at those dresses you’re hanging up, for example. We’ve never had anything like these in the house before. And Debbie has her makeup kit along, I’m sure. I can try some on tonight—just for fun, of course. I’ll have it all washed off before church tomorrow morning.”

  Looks of horror crossed Verna and Ida’s faces.

  Debbie’s words rushed out. “No, Lois! You will do no such thing. That’s not right. In fact, I’m no longer going to use makeup myself.”

  Lois’s joy faded, and Debbie’s mind whirled. Should she have made such a commitment…and so soon? What about her appearance at her job? What would Mr. Fulton think? If she didn’t back down right now, there was no way she’d sneak around later and put on makeup in secret. Still, she couldn’t change her mind now—not in front of Lois.

  Lois struggled to hide her disappointment. “At least you have these wunderbah dresses. May I try one on tonight?”

  Debbie didn’t want to say no to Lois twice in a row. And she wore the dresses herself, and Bishop Beiler knew that. Debbie glanced at Verna and Ida for guidance. They both shrugged. “Okay then,” Debbie allowed.

  Lois was all smiles again. “Tonight then! After everyone has gone to bed, I’ll slip one on. I’ll look like a princess ready for a ball.”

  “You don’t have to be so dramatic,” Verna said with a glance toward Debbie. “Well, welcome to the Beiler family, Debbie. I hope we aren’t scaring you off already.”

  Debbie allowed her pleasure to show. “Not at all! And your secrets are safe with me.”

  “Verna lost her boyfriend last Sunday night,” Lois offered.

  Debbie looked up, startled. “She did? I’m so sorry to hear that, Verna. How did it happen?”

  “There was a misunderstanding,” Verna said.

  “Daett’s supposed to straighten it out this morning,” Ida offered. “That may be his buggy going out of the driveway right now.”

  Lois took another peek past the drapes. “It is. But I don’t think he can change Joe Weaver’s mind. That whole family’s awfully stubborn and high-minded.”

  “You can keep your opinions to yourself,” Verna snapped. “I like Joe just fine, and he’d make a decent husband. You’d do well to find someone like him yourself.”

  Ida spoke up. “Maybe we all can if Verna gets this straightened out. Otherwise I’m afraid we’re all staying old maids.”

  “Not me!” Lois piped up. “I’m joining the Englisha.”

  “You keep saying that, but you don’t mean it, Lois,” Verna lectured. “So stop terrorizing Daett and Mamm about it.”

  Debbie smiled. “I’m already learning that Amish families sometimes bicker just like we Englisha do. You really are normal human beings, after all!”

  With that, all the girls laughed and busied themselves emptying Debbie’s luggage and putting stuff away.

  Thirteen

  Hours later Debbie stood in the middle of the Beiler kitchen laughing so hard she was clutching her sides. The bowl of flour in her hands had leaped free and landed on the floor, where it unceremoniously skidded across the linoleum and clattered to a stop against the stove leg. It tipped over and spilled its contents all over.

  Lois, in the midst of a fit of giggles, was seated on a kitchen chair. They made quite a sight amid the white powder mess. There were even puffs of flour that had drifted up one wall. This whole episode had begun with Lois’s determination that a proper first step into Amish life would be to learn how to cook.

  “I can teach anyone how to cook!” Lois had bravely declared. But even she hadn’t envisioned this route to success.

  “You’re doing gut!” Lois choked out as she tried to get hold of herself. “That was almost a perfect arc as the bowl flew across the floor.”

  “Not quite what I would call cooking,” Debbie declared. “Now where is the broom? I’m afraid I’ll burn your mother’s house down if I keep going like this.”

  “There’s no danger of that.” Lois still appeared quite confident. “I’m here, and it’s a Saturday afternoon. We can clean up a dozen messes and disturb no one’s schedule.”

  “Trying to be positive, are we?” Debbie asked as she opened a closet door and pulled out the hand broom and dustpan.

  “Be careful!” Lois said too late as puffs of flour rose in the air with the slightest push of the broom.

  Debbie glanced toward Lois. “Should we wet it down?”

  Lois’s eyes grew large. “You don’t know anything about cooking, do you?”

  Debbie grimaced. “You already know that. What happens with wet flour?”

  “You mean what happens with glue. That’s the result when you mix water and flour. Turns everything into a paste that sticks fast.”

  Debbie made a face. “Maybe I should move into the haymow. It might be safer.”

  Lois giggled. “I’m going to make a cook out of you yet. We’ll have lessons every day if necessary.”

  “You’d better stick with Saturdays.” Debbie completed a dry sweep of the flour the best she could. Lois filled a plastic bowl with hot water and soap, ready to get down on her knees for the finishing cleanup.

  Debbie held up her hand. “That’s my job. You’re not cleaning up my mess.”

  “Yah, I am!” Lois got on her knees undeterred. “And I’m directing from down here. Get going again with measuring the flour. We’re going to have a cake made before you know it.”

  Debbie didn’t move. “I think I’ve changed my mind. I’ll run into town for a cake mix.”

  Lois made a stern face. “Debbie! You want to be Amish, don’t you? Every Amish woman knows how to cook…from scratch.”

  This morning’s glimpse of Alvin flashed through Debbie’s mind. Yes, she most certainly did wish to cook—and with competence. Even if her dreams of Alvin were nothing more than that, the cooking skills she acquired from Lois would serve her well.

  Lois nodded as if she’d interpreted the look on Debbie’s face. “You begin with measuring the flour, like we just did. After that you add brown sugar and the rest of the things listed in the recipe.”

  Debbie glanced over the list of ingredients as Lois scrubbed the floor. It wasn’t right that she was up here in the midst of carrot cake preparations while Lois was down on her hands and knees like a common servant. Yet that was how the Amish women conducted themselves, and she wouldn’t change that by a simple protest. Rather, it would be better if she took lessons and imitated them. Such ability surely came because of one’s humility, not because one was worried how things might appear to others.

  “When all the dry items are in,” Lois said from down on the floor, “I believe the eggs and oil come next. Be sure to mix those in thoroughly. I’ll come help with the grated carrots in a minute.”

  “Hold fast to the bowl!” Debbie muttered to herself, which elicited giggles from Lois. “What’s going to happen when I stir? I was only moving it around the last time—and look what happened!”

  Lois laughed harder. “I think you tripped, if I remember right.”

  Debbie laughed. “Miss Graceful, I know. I say keep me out of the kitchen!”

  “We’ll soon have you tripping along as light as a feather in the wind,” Lois quipped.

  Debbie grimaced again. “I’m glad someone sees hope in this situation.”


  Lois paused and looked up at the sound of buggy wheels in the driveway. “That would be Daett coming home, I’d guess.”

  Debbie took a quick look out the window. “It is.”

  Behind them quick steps came down the stairs and the front door slammed.

  “That would be Verna going out to see if Daett has news for her.” Lois got to her feet. “Poor Verna! I feel sorry for her. Actually I feel sorry for all of us girls. Daett will never allow any of us to date, let alone marry. But why should I worry? I’m not staying Amish and following his rules forever.”

  “That’s your dark side speaking,” Debbie said as she stirred the ingredients, hanging on to the bowl tightly with one hand. “I think your dad’s concerned, that’s all.”

  “I personally place more hope for love in the Englisha world,” Lois declared, her eyes shining for a moment.

  Debbie looked at Lois’s beaming face. Did Lois have a boy she admired out in the world? It would explain her fascination better than anything else. And it was something she could understand. Wasn’t the same thing in her heart? Except an admiration of an Amish man? Only her desire went deeper than finding love. But perhaps Lois’s did also. Debbie started to ask about it but stopped. Now was not the time.

  Lois rose, dumped the soapy water into the sink, and rinsed the rag. Then she washed her hands and moved over to work at the counter and grate carrots. The front door slammed again. Verna, her face grim, walked past the kitchen doorway without a glance.

  “Yah, just what I feared,” Lois said quietly. “It didn’t work.”

  “Maybe you should comfort her,” Debbie suggested.

  Lois shrugged. “I would if I could. But there’s not much to comfort oneself with around here. ‘Wait for the man until he comes around,’ Daett probably told her. Or maybe Joe’s not decent enough. Or maybe he’s not obeying the Ordnung in other matters too. With the men Daett’s chased away already, poor Verna’s been through too much. Now she’s finally set her heart on one badly enough to fight for him. Daett should be careful, if you ask me.”

  Obviously no one would ask Lois, Debbie thought as she stirred the cake ingredients until she could discern no visible lumps. She jumped when the bishop opened the washroom door. She’d been too lost in her thoughts to hear his footsteps.

  His face broke into a bright smile. “I see we have an Englisha girl busy cooking in our kitchen. What do you know! We’ll make a decent Amish woman out of her yet.”

  “Daett!” Lois protested. “You’ll make Debbie feel bad, like she’s not decent already.”

  Bishop Beiler’s face glowed. “On the contrary, daughter of mine, I mean my words as a great compliment. Being willing to mend the weaknesses in our lives deserves praise. Debbie’s obviously willing to do that.”

  “Thank you,” Debbie managed to get out. This discussion of her while she was present disconcerted her, but she would learn fast. And it helped that she already knew enough of Amish ways not to be offended by the things they said that might not ever be said in Englisha homes.

  Bishop Beiler pulled out a chair and settled in. Debbie stole a glance at him. “The cake’s not done yet, and once it is, its edible quality may be in question.”

  The bishop laughed. “You have a way with words there, Debbie. We should take lessons from you. I’m just a simple Amish man, as Da Hah knows. I tried to read Shakespeare once in my younger days, but I didn’t get far.”

  “We studied him in English class,” Debbie said. “I probably didn’t get much further than you did.”

  The bishop sobered. “Education is gut if you also reach the heart. But, sadly, so much of the world’s education fails in that area.”

  Debbie nodded.

  Lois snapped, “Don’t you think you should be listening to Verna’s sorrow right now, Daett, instead of talking about the bad side of Englisha education?”

  Bishop Beiler remained silent for a moment. “You do speak the truth, Lois. And I don’t fault you for it. My heart is indeed in great pain because of Verna. I did this morning what I could do, and now it’s up to Da Hah.”

  “That’s what you always say.” Lois didn’t appear mollified. “Don’t you see that Verna has her heart set on this boy? For once you ought to help her instead of work against her. Before you know it, you’ll have a houseful of old maids no men want.”

  Debbie glanced at Bishop Beiler. She expected a look of anger in his face, but he appeared quite serious. His words were measured. “We must all have patience, Lois. I know I’ve said that before, but it’s still true. Things will work out as they are intended. You speak of old maids in the house, but I also don’t want a bunch of sons-in-law who can’t keep my daughters happy and their feet inside the fence of faith. I don’t need family members who are always looking for greener grass on the other side. That I will not have. And just for your information, Joe seemed quite understanding of what I told him.”

  Debbie held her breath for a moment. Should she leave the room? This sounded like a private conversation. She glanced at the bishop and Lois. Neither seemed the least bit troubled by her presence.

  Bishop Beiler continued. “I disclosed my source of information to Joe, which is not something I’d normally do. I bent the rules for Verna’s sake. I assured Joe she had nothing to do with informing me of his error. I think the boy will come around. If you ask me, his heart is still wounded from the way Rosy dealt with him. Those things take time to heal. If Verna had followed my advice and waited a few months, Joe might not have reacted like he did.”

  Lois still didn’t appear convinced, but she kept her mouth closed.

  The bishop nodded in Debbie’s direction. “Sorry to bother you with family problems, but you’re in the household now and we keep no secrets. A little family matter, and you’re now here to hear it all.”

  “A little matter?” Lois murmured loud enough for her father to hear.

  Her daett’s head turned in her direction. “Yah, I will admit it’s a big matter, Lois. And I should watch my words better than I do. I am sorry.”

  Lois lowered her head. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

  The two looked at each other, and Debbie couldn’t help but notice how their faces softened. How beautiful this was. They mended fences before any hard feelings could fester. And yet they had freely been allowed to say what was on their hearts.

  Bishop Beiler got to his feet. He leaned toward the bowl Debbie was holding. “What have we there? Did you say a cake of some sort?”

  “It’s supposed to be carrot cake.” Debbie made a face. “But with me making it, who knows? We might have burnt upside down carrot cake.”

  Amusement crossed the bishop’s face. “I’m sure Lois will keep you on the straight and narrow. She’s the best cook in our family—and that’s saying a lot.”

  Lois’s face glowed with the praise as the bishop left, going back outside through the washroom door.

  Debbie took it as another lesson to learn. Always share a word of compliment, especially when it’s deserved.

  A few minutes later Verna appeared from the stairway. Her face was tear-stained.

  Lois rushed over and gave Verna a long hug. “Was the news that bad?”

  Verna choked back a sob. “Not according to Daett, but my heart doesn’t feel much better. Joe still has to give a confession in front of the church. And all for just driving an Englisha vehicle to help someone out. I suppose he’s not going to come anywhere close to me until long after that embarrassment has died down.”

  “Just stay strong,” Lois comforted.

  Debbie sent Verna a warm smile when she glanced toward her. There didn’t seem much else Debbie could do at the moment with her hands covered in cake ingredients.

  Fourteen

  That Saturday night at the supper table, as the evening light faded outside, everyone bowed their heads for prayer. Debbie had been here before at mealtimes, but the sound of Bishop Beiler’s words stirred her spirit. Now she would be here every night, invol
ved in this ritual, the ebb and flow of Amish life like the very sands of time itself.

  The bishop’s voice rose and fell, and even the kitchen seemed to listen. “Now, unto You, O God, the most high God, we give glory and honor and praise. Look upon us, Your humble servants, at this evening hour. Have mercy and compassion upon our weaknesses. Remember that we are made of dust and prone to error. Forgive us, as we also forgive those who offend us. Bless now this food which has been prepared. Bless especially Debbie, who is with us tonight. Let her feel a part of the family, and bless her parents who have raised such a godly daughter. Amen.”

  Debbie’s face turned red at Bishop Beiler’s words of praise. She glanced around at the others, but no one seemed bothered in the least. Lois even sent a sweet look her way. After the “amen,” Emery dished out some mashed potatoes while he stared at the carrot cake that sat in the middle of the table. The cake was right where Lois had insisted it go. If the choice had been Debbie’s, it would have been hidden in the pantry, or better yet, the basement. The effort was sure to be a total disaster. She just knew it. She tried not to panic. If she only knew for certain how it had come out. But Lois had watched her spread on the sticky frosting. “You’re not going to taste it beforehand—not one tiny piece!” she stated.

  “What difference does it make if one little corner is gone?” Debbie had begged. Hot and cold flashes had run up and down her back. Somehow she had to relieve her mind of this agony of suspense. She had to taste the cake before it was served. “What if it’s simply awful? What if it makes people sick?” she had worried.

  “You’re not a gut judge anyway,” Lois had said. “You’re too tense. And we don’t cut pieces out of the pan before we serve.”

  Debbie had groaned but given in. Now all her tension had returned as she watched Emery stare at the cake. She finally dared whisper in his direction, “Is there something wrong with it?”

  He studied the pan some more. “I thought there was something different looking about it. So you made it?”