by Sarah Price
When exactly, Drusilla wondered, had this change occurred? Even more curious, she thought, why?
“I’m glad you are feeling better,” Drusilla said in a soft voice.
Her mother did not respond, but she reached out a hand and touched Drusilla’s arm. “Danke, Dochder. I am feeling better and I have you to thank.”
“Me?” She sounded as surprised as she felt.
Esther gave a soft smile. “Some other time, Drusilla. For now, let’s make certain everything is ready. I presume Mammi Ana’s been tended to?”
Without waiting for an answer, Esther began to glance over the different bowls and platters that would be used for the Thanksgiving meal. Barbara would bring over the mashed potatoes and baked corn casserole while Eli’s wife was bringing sweet potato pie and green beans. With the chow chow, pickles, and pickled beets along with fresh bread and rolls, there would be more than enough food for everyone.
And all of that was before dessert.
The door opened and Henry burst into the kitchen. “Caleb’s come, Drusilla!”
When he walked through the door, his arms laden with a large box and a smile on his face, Drusilla felt the all too familiar sensation of butterflies in her stomach. There were moments when she couldn’t believe that she was, indeed, married to such a wonderful man. How God led her to Caleb Lapp was a mystery that she knew she’d never solve.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Riehl family!” he said in a cheerful voice.
Drusilla hurried over to take the box from his hands. As she reached for it, her hands brushing against his, he shook his head.
“Too heavy,” he said in a soft voice.
“What’s in there?” She tried to peer over his shoulder as he walked past her and put the box on the counter.
He laughed and turned around, blocking her view. “Curious, ja? Like a cat.”
She pretended to pout, although she didn’t mind his gentle teasing.
“My maem sent along some of her pecan pies, creamed spinach, canned peaches, and, for one special young man, my personal favorite, cinnamon applesauce!” When he said this, he looked directly at Elam who smiled, exposing his missing tooth.
“Oh help!” Drusilla said as Caleb moved aside so that she could begin unpacking the box. Setting the different jars of canned goods on the counter, she couldn’t help but comment, “So generous!”
Caleb leaned against the counter and watched her. “The creamed spinach is my favorite. I talked her into sending that one along.” He pointed at the two large pans covered in foil. “Just needs to be put in the oven for a few minutes to re-heat it. Mayhaps when the turkey is setting.”
Surprised, Drusilla looked at him. “Did your maem tell you that?”
He lifted the edge of the foil and poked his finger into the side of the spinach. “You think I can’t cook, Drusilla Lapp?” he teased as he tested the spinach. Shutting his eyes, he made a noise of satisfaction. “Um mmm! That is right gut!”
“You can cook?” She put her hand on her hip. “I don’t believe you!”
He winked at her. “Can’t let you know all of my secrets in the first month of marriage, now can I?”
Henry scoffed at him. “Cooking’s for girls!”
Caleb rolled his eyes and shook his head, making a big show of disagreeing with Henry. “Why should a man help his fraa in the kitchen just as much as she helps him in the barn? Besides, if most men feel that way, that means a man that can—and does!—cook will attract the women that are better cooks.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the men that can’t cook can’t fend for themselves!”
Both boys laughed.
“What’s this about men working in the kitchen?” Amos and Daniel entered through the basement door. They carried more folding chairs and passed them over to the two younger boys to set at the empty places. “I never cooked a thing in my life!” Amos said.
“Maem cooks just fine, Caleb,” Henry pointed out.
Caleb held his hands up in front of his chest as if warding off an attack. “Mayhaps Amos found the exception to the rule then. But that’s what my maem always told me.”
Daniel laughed and Amos joined him. “Sounds like your maem told you a tall tale, son. Mayhaps to get you into the kitchen to help her!”
The rest of the family laughed with Daniel and Amos, even Caleb joined in. Drusilla smiled as she watched her husband interacting with her family and thought about how wonderful everything felt. Everything, that is, except the upcoming move to Ohio. She turned to continue unloading the box from Caleb’s mother, listening to the bittersweet noise of laughter and teasing, for she realized that this would be her last Thanksgiving in Lancaster County.
With everyone seated around the table, the food passing from hand to hand in a clockwise motion, the level of noise in the kitchen and gathering room had definitely increased. With the adults intermingled among the younger children and teenagers, Drusilla had found herself seated in-between her younger cousin, Ruth Anne, and Hannah. Across from her, Naomi picked at the food on her plate while Miriam sat beside her.
“You need to eat more,” Miriam scolded her twin.
“You feeling poorly then?” Drusilla asked.
Naomi shook her head, but did not respond otherwise.
Miriam sighed and looked across the table at Drusilla. “I’m headed to Maryland tomorrow morning,” she said. “We’re to stay at his schwester’s haus for the week until market days next week.”
Drusilla felt as if her heart dropped. Now she understood Naomi’s blue funk. This would be the first time that Miriam was leaving her for such a long period of time. In the past, Miriam would go to market and return the same day. Despite being long days for her and Naomi not seeing her, at least Naomi knew that her sister was home. This time, they would leave on Friday for market and, instead of returning home to her family, they would return to his.
Since they worked on the weekends, they would begin visiting family on Sunday until Wednesday when they returned to market.
“Well, Naomi,” Drusilla said. “You’ll have to come visit here then. I’ll be alone all week without Caleb.”
Naomi shrugged.
From down at the other end of the table, Naomi’s father raised his voice. “You sulking again, Naomi?”
She shot him a look but remained silent.
Drusilla glanced at her uncle and then at Naomi. Clearly, Naomi’s moodiness had been not only noticed but discussed among the family. And her uncle Jake was obviously unhappy about it.
Jacob cleared his throat and the adults turned to look at him. “Too much change going on here,” he grumbled. “Not much to be thankful for this year, not with Mammi Ana being in such a state.”
“Now Dawdi,” Amos said. “There’s plenty to be thankful for. New grandchildren for you, new son-in-laws for me and Jake, why! I managed to even sell those pumpkins after they ripened to a local market as he ran out before the end of October! God provides for all of us and that is what we need to remember. Not just today, but every day.”
Jacob scoffed and waved his hand at Amos.
Jake reached across the table to grab another roll. “Lots for you to be thankful for, I reckon,” he said to Amos. “God sure provided for you, I see. Seemed to skip over my farm. My crops didn’t pay enough bills this year. We’re owing bank loans that can’t be paid!”
At this announcement, Drusilla cringed. So did his wife. Drusilla could feel the intensity of her aunt’s humiliation at her husband’s words. It wasn’t proper to discuss such private matters in a public way, even if the public was his family. After all, all of his children were there as well as his nieces and nephews. Financial problems were not meant to be shared.
Of course, Drusilla was not entirely surprised. Jake had always been one to look for reasons that he failed. Most of the time, he blamed the poor soil of his farm, lamenting that Amos’s success was because he had received a farm with richer soil. Two years, when he planted seed to late i
n the season, he blamed the weather. One year, when he planted the corn too early, not listening to Amos’s suggestion that he wait another two weeks, Jake blamed the quality of the seed he purchased. Not once did he take responsibility for not listening to good advice on fertilizing his soil or when to plant his crops.
And, of course, he didn’t seem to save up enough money to purchase his own equipment. Just a month or so ago, when Amos wanted to cut hay, Jake had asked to borrow Amos’s cutter. With bad weather moving in, Amos stood up to his brother and told him that he could borrow it, but only after his own hay was cut. The result? Jake cut his hay and, just as it was drying over the next three days, the rain moved in. His hay was ruined and, to no one’s surprise, he blamed Amos for not lending him the equipment.
But to have him share the news that they had no money and bills couldn’t be paid—and at the Thanksgiving table no less!—was shocking and in very poor taste.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Naomi stared at her plate and Miriam blushed ten shades of red. Drusilla looked at her father first and then down the table to her aunt.
“Now Jake,” Barbara said at last in as cheerful a tone as she could muster. “This is not the time or place to discuss our private affairs.” She glanced in the direction of Esther who seemed to watch the exchange with mild curiosity as if her mind was wandering. “Bishop heard such talk of doom and gloom, why he’d be meeting with quite a few of you.” Her attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears.
“Hannah, pass Caleb that spinach dish, will you? I don’t think he had enough and I know that’s his favorite,” Drusilla said in a loud enough voice so that the other adults couldn’t respond to Barbara’s comment.
“Oh ja, danke!” Caleb reached for the dish. “I must say that all of this food is enough to make a man quite thankful to be a part of the Riehl family!” He, too, spoke louder than usual. “Amos, did you try any of this? Jacob?” He held the dish in their direction so that Amos had no choice but to take it and sample the food. “It’s an old family tradition, this recipe. Not quite certain how it’s made, but my maem makes it for every holiday.”
Pushing back from the table, Esther stood up and stepped away from the table.
“Traditions sure are nice,” Caleb continued rambling. “But it’s right gut to make new ones. Like the sweet potato pie. Elam, I must say you are right. Your aendi’s looks right delicious.”
“Told you!” Elam shouted.
“And the turkey. My, my, that was the best I’ve ever tasted. In fact, Eli, if you don’t mind, I’ll try me another bit of that.”
“My favorite’s the ham!” Elsie offered.
Suddenly, the conversation turned from the woes of a few into a round of compliments for the food, with the younger children declaring their favorite dish on the table. Drusilla looked over Hannah’s head and caught Caleb’s eye from where he sat a few seats away. When he smiled and winked once again, she felt a surge of love for him flow throughout her body.
“Amos,” Esther called from the doorway of their bedroom. “I need to speak to you.”
“Right now?” Amos said lightly. “I’m just about to wrestle some more of that cinnamon applesauce from Elam, before it’s all gone.”
Drusilla looked up. “There’s more, Daed. Let me fetch it.” She started to get up, but her mother’s voice stopped her.
“Amos!”
Everyone stopped talking and looked at Esther. She stood in the doorway, the color drained from her cheeks. Without even hearing the words, Drusilla already knew what her mother was going to say. Instead of walking to the kitchen to fetch more applesauce, Drusilla walked over to her mother’s side. Esther shook her head, indicating that she should not enter the bedroom.
“Is it Mammi Ana?” Drusilla whispered.
Esther shut her eyes once, not needing to speak.
“Daed, you best come,” Drusilla said.
Before Amos could reach them, Caleb was already at Drusilla’s side. Silence befell the table as everyone looked at the four people whispering in the doorway. Slowly, Jacob stood up and shuffled across the floor toward them. He reached out his hand and lowered it onto Amos’s shoulder.
“Son,” he said in a much stronger voice than Drusilla would have anticipated. “Has your maem gone home?”
“Daed…”
Jacob took a deep breath and nodded his head, just once. “Let me pass then. I want to sit a spell with my fraa.”
Not knowing what to do, Drusilla felt Caleb tug gently at her arm and she stepped backward so that her grandfather could pass into the room. He shut the door behind him.
“Mammi Ana? What happened to Mammi Ana?” Elsie said, bewildered and confused.
Drusilla moved across the floor and knelt before her sister. “Mammi Ana’s gone home, Elsie. She’s with God and Jesus now.”
“I don’t want her to be there,” Elsie said, large tears filling her eyes. “I want her here with us.”
Caleb walked to the door, retrieving his hat and coat. When Drusilla looked up and saw that he was leaving, she gave Elsie a quick hug before leaving her side. Hurrying over to the door, she reached for his arm.
“Where are you going?” she whispered.
“Someone best go fetch the bishop,” he replied. “He’ll get the preachers and come over for prayer and arrangements. And one of them will need to call the undertaker.” He glanced at the gathered family, now standing in a group around the bedroom door, the delicious meal forgotten as the holiday abruptly ended. “Might as well be me, Drusilla.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek. “I’ll be back shortly,” he whispered.
She shut the door behind him and pressed her hand against the molding. For a moment, she bowed her head and said a silent prayer that her grandmother’s journey home to heaven was swift and painless. While Drusilla had gathered from the doctors and nurses at the hospital that the end was near for her grandmother, she hadn’t really thought it would happen so soon. The thought of never speaking with Mammi Ana, even if she couldn’t respond, made Drusilla want to cry.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she took a deep breath and walked back into the kitchen. Someone needed to take charge and get the kitchen ready for the onslaught of people that would be arriving. First the bishops and preachers who would gather the family in prayer. They would sit down and go through Ana’s death letter, the one that she most likely had written years before and had tucked into the bottom of her hope chest, along with her wedding dress. She would wear the same dress for her funeral and the undertaker would want to have that, too.
The death letter would outline Ana’s last wishes, distribution of her property to individual people and a list of those she wanted invited to the funeral. Most Amish people wrote such letters before they became ill, a way to help the grief-stricken family focus on the task at hand.
Later, the undertaker would come to take away Ana’s body and prepare it for burial.
And finally men from the g’may would arrive to move out furniture so that the women could clean the house from top to bottom to prepare for the hundreds of people who would come to pay their last respects to Ana and to her family. It would be a long few days with the Riehl family taken care of by their community.
Yet, Drusilla knew that she couldn’t leave the kitchen looking like it did. She needed to put away the food and wash the dishes before the bishop arrived.
“Come Hannah, Elsie,” she said softly. She motioned to Naomi and Miriam when they looked up. “Let’s pray for Mammi Ana together as we take care of the table and the food. We can pray as we work.”
Wiping at their tears, they did as they were instructed, the busyness of their hands helping to preoccupy the bereavement they felt in their hearts.
Chapter Four
On Monday morning, Drusilla awoke earlier than usual. It felt strange to awaken on a weekday with Caleb next to her. She paused for just a moment to stare down at him in the dim glow of the small flashlight she held in her hand.
Outside, the sun had not risen yet. While she normally awoke before the sun, this morning seemed extra dark and dreary. Today, the Riehl family would say goodbye to Mammi Ana for the last time.
“What time is it?” Caleb mumbled as he started to sit up.
Drusilla placed her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. “Shh,” she whispered. “You still have time, Caleb.”
He covered her hand with his and raised it to his mouth to kiss her skin. “Nee, Drusilla Lapp. If you awaken, I awaken.”
She smiled at him, even though she doubted that he could see her expression in the darkness.
Quietly, they dressed by the light of her flashlight and, without saying a word, hurried downstairs. The room was already set up for the service, the benches positioned in much the same way as they had been for Drusilla’s and Miriam’s weddings. For a moment, Drusilla paused at the bottom of the stairs and stared at the large room, her eyes falling upon the simple pine coffin toward the back near the very door that Mammi Ana had passed through a thousand times as she walked from the grossdawdihaus to the main house.
Caleb rubbed his arms together, the cold air that filled the room causing his breath to linger in the air like a little cloud. “Let me get the lantern lit,” he said and he hurried to the large lantern hanging from the kitchen ceiling. He twisted a knob and struck a match, the flame lighting the propane as it hissed from the release nozzle. Immediately, the room lit up in a brilliant white light that caused Drusilla to squint her eyes until they adjusted to it.
Despite the cold, Drusilla headed to the kitchen and began to work. People would begin arriving at eight o’clock, shortly after morning chores were finished. Fortunately, three young couples from the church district had been assigned to help oversee the food preparation so that the Riehls could visit with all of the people who came to the house during the days of visitation. Between Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, over six hundred people had come to pay their final respects to Ana Riehl and her family. Only two hundred would attend the funeral service and just the family and close friends would attend the fellowship meal after her internment at the small cemetery down the road.
