“Mamma poked her head in and frowned.”
Nellie gazed at the delicate loveliness of the necklace. Worldly, for sure. Where did Rhoda get it?
Here was more evidence that Rhoda’s working for Englischers was clearly a mistake, just as Dat had said from the start.
Stepping back, Nellie noted the attractive way Rhoda had looped it over part of the dresser. Perty as can be.
She glanced at her sister. “Oh, Rhoda, you’re not . . .” She paused.
“I’m not what?”
“Thinkin’ of goin’ down the path of . . . ?” Nellie stopped, refusing to say Suzy’s name. “What I mean is, you’re not thinking of goin’ fancy, are ya?”
Rhoda’s pretty green eyes shone. “Last thing on my mind.”
“Why the necklace, then?”
Rhoda’s face flushed. “I s’pose hanging it keeps me from wearin’ it. Just for show, that’s all.”
Nellie looked all around the room, still trying to determine what she felt. She went and sat again. “Did you spray something sweet in here?”
“Earlier this mornin’.” Rhoda pointed her nose in the air and sniffed. “I guess I do kinda smell it yet.”
“Perfume?”
She nodded, grinning. “Want some? I can get you the same thing . . . if you’d like.”
Nellie couldn’t deny the sweet scent was ever so tempting. “Honestly, that’s too strong for me if it lasts all day. I’ll stick with my lilac fragrance.”
“Suit yourself.” Rhoda smoothed her dress, shifting her legs beneath her. “I ran into Susannah Lapp on the way home from work today.”
“Oh?” The mention of Susannah’s name annoyed Nellie.
“She was full of gossip, more so than usual—said a whole group of folk came to the house last night. Men and their wives, of all things.”
Nellie nodded, looking Rhoda square in the face. “I heard from Rebekah Yoder there was a similar meeting the night before at Preacher Manny’s. What do you think’s goin’ on?”
Rhoda reached up to undo her Kapp. Then she began removing the bobby pins, her butter-blond hair cascading down over her shoulders, past her waist. “Seems more folks are demanding tractors and other modern conveniences—enough to form a fairly large group. The meeting at the deacon’s was pretty one-sided, as I understand it.”
“Which side?”
“Which do ya suppose?” Rhoda shook her hair free. “’Twas the side of the Old Ways . . . as we are now. But the other meeting, the one you mentioned, was open to people from both sides of the issue.”
Rhoda surely seemed to be the one in the know.
“Any idea why Dat and Mamma didn’t go?” Nellie asked.
Rhoda picked up the hem of her apron and fingered the edge. “I s’pose because they’re homebodies . . . like you, Nellie Mae.” Her sister gave her a teasing grin.
Nellie sighed. The fact she had only to walk a few steps to work must make her an oddity in Rhoda’s eyes. “I daresay there’s maybe another reason.”
“What’s that?” asked Rhoda.
“Dat’s ever so settled with the way things are.”
Like Caleb’s family. The thought comforted Nellie. No matter how many folk betrayed their tradition, her family—and Caleb’s—would stand solid and true.
“Sure seems that way,” Rhoda said. “But change is coming, and you never know what might happen.”
Nellie wanted to tell Rhoda what she knew about the bishop’s trip—and how upset Aunt Anna had seemed—but she held her peace. It wasn’t her place to say what she presumed, and it was bad enough to hear of two meetings happening behind their backs. If Rhoda didn’t already know about Uncle Bishop, the grapevine would tell her soon enough.
Nellie Mae settled into her room for the night. She considered writing to her cousins, as the circle letter she’d been expecting had come in the afternoon’s mail full of news about who was published to be married last week after Preaching in Bird-in-Hand—Treva had written of the candidates for baptism, as well. Nellie always enjoyed collecting news to add to the letter before sending it along to yet another cousin down in Paradise. The ever-expanding letter would journey on to several others before Treva returned it to Nellie again in another ten days or so. A weekly journal of sorts, circle letters were one of the things Nellie most looked forward to.
This time she had been dismayed to hear from Treva about a group in Bird-in-Hand talking of getting cars and tractors. “Whatever’s happening among our people sounds as contagious as the flu,” she whispered to herself as she slipped into bed.
Thinking of what she might write back, she deemed it unwise to share the little she knew about the unrest here in Honey Brook. Maybe I’ll wait and reply when things die down a bit.
She felt somewhat guilty at the prospect of holding up the circle letter—it was no fun when others dawdled—but she wasn’t in the mood to write about the ordinary things of her life. And was it really anybody’s business what was going on here among the church brethren? Her greatest concern was that such gossip might simply fan the flames of discontent.
If only Rosanna lived nearer. It would have been a relief to talk plainly with her friend, but it was too late in the day for that. Since Elias had found him and Rosanna a nicer house to rent, across from Ephram’s, she’d seen less and less of her. At moments like this, she could see how mighty nice it would be to be able to pick up a telephone and call her dearest friend.
Quickly, she dismissed the thought. While some bishops did permit families to install a phone for the purpose of medical emergencies, Nellie could not imagine Uncle Bishop allowing one. No, he and Preachers Lapp and Manny embraced the Old Order as much as any ministers she knew.
Bet Susannah Lapp hasn’t ever wished for a phone, Nellie thought. Considering her rival now, Nellie wondered if she dared to flirt a little with Caleb this Saturday night. Unlike most boys who simply invited a girl during the Singing, Caleb had played it safe, planning ahead where Nellie was to meet him afterward. This way no one would likely see them together as a couple. Surely there was a reason for Caleb’s desire for such unusual secrecy.
But Nellie wouldn’t allow herself to fret over the details of their first date. She could trust Caleb Yoder to know what he was doing, couldn’t she? Still, she wondered if his reason had anything to do with Suzy.
Thursday evening Rosanna’s cousin Kate came striding into the utility porch at the back of the house. With a short knock and a soft “yoo-hoo,” she appeared in the kitchen, an enormous smile on her round face. She looked much bigger than last visit, Rosanna thought, trying not to stare at Kate’s protruding stomach.
“How are you feelin’, cousin?” she asked, quickly offering her a chair.
“Oh, not too bad, really.”
“Would ya care for something to drink? A tall glass of fresh milk, maybe? Whatever you’d like.”
Kate waved her off as she lowered herself into the chair. A refreshment seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind.
“Truth is, Rosanna, I’ve come to talk about the baby.” She fixed her gaze on the table before them. “John and I’ve been talkin’, and we think it would be a smart idea to let our baby—yours, really—know who his parents are. Or if it’s a girl . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she brought her eyes up to meet Rosanna’s.
Rosanna felt her stomach knot up, but she forced a smile. “Why, sure, I think that’s fine.”
Kate fanned herself, seeming quite relieved. “It’s not that we want to have much say-so in his or her life. It’s just . . . we think it would be nice for the baby’s brothers and sisters to know him, too.”
Again Rosanna nodded. “I have no problem with that, Kate. Doubt Elias will, either.”
“Well, that’s mighty good to know.”
“You sure I can’t get you something to wet your whistle?
You look all in.”
Kate’s eyes glistened. “Oh, I don’t know . . . maybe, jah.”
“Well, what’s
a-matter? You all right?”
Kate nodded bravely, giving a weak smile. “One minute I have such get-up-and-go, and the next, I fizzle out mighty quick. Can’t say I’ve ever felt quite like this with my other babies.”
“Ach, maybe you shouldn’t have come all this way alone.” Rosanna glanced out the window, noting the gray family buggy parked outside. “You want someone to ride back with you?”
“No, no, I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” Kate breathed in slowly.
Rosanna couldn’t help but wonder if Kate’s now rosy cheeks had to do with the realization the baby growing within her would know the parents who gave him life. It was a reasonable request.
Elias will surely think so, too.
“The midwife says the baby may be due sooner than we thought,” Kate commented as Rosanna poured her some warm peppermint tea.
“Before Christmas would be ever so nice.”
“Might be closer to the middle of December, seems.”
“Ah, right during wedding season, then,” Rosanna said.
“Jah, and what a busy one this will be.” Kate went on to say that several nieces and two nephews on both sides of John’s and her family were rumored to be getting hitched come late November or early December.
“More couples means more babies.” Rosanna smiled. “We’ll all be in good company, raisin’ our little ones.”
The People grew their communities through large families. Ten to fifteen children were not uncommon.
Kate agreed, a knowing look in her eye. “Just think, you’ll soon have yourself a wee one to call your own.”
Rosanna reached out to touch her cousin’s hand, ever so thankful for Kate’s generosity, yet hoping her cousin was truly comfortable with the whole idea.
Nellie Mae sat in the corner of the kitchen, behind the table closest to the wall, trying to suppress her envy as she watched Rhoda and Nan sitting on the large rag rug in the center of the room, playing a cozy game of checkers.
I’m always the third wheel anymore, she thought.
That Rhoda and Nan had each other was certain, and just now as Nellie watched them smile furtively before moving their checkers, she truly felt she had no one. Not even to play checkers with.
Neither sister had made any effort to reach out to her in her time of loss, though they, too, were in mourning for Suzy.
Redirecting her thoughts, she decided now was as good a time as any to add to the circle letter. No sense inconveniencing those waiting by putting it off. After doing so, she shuffled through her stationery and chose a soft yellow sheet, intending to also write a more personal letter to Treva.
Dear Cousin Treva,
Greetings from Beaver Dam Road . . . and Cousin Nellie Mae.
Have you been out walking much this autumn? I can’t resist the nice weather. I’m sure yours is quite similar, although Dat says you can never tell around here. Just look at how odd it was that all our sweet corn—and our neighbors’—was stunted, but yours wasn’t. Still strange, I daresay.
It was such fun to hear of the poetry you’re reading. I, too, like Emily Dickinson’s poems, if they’re not too sad. There is enough sorrow without having to read about it, seems to me. My sister Rhoda is reading Pilgrim’s Progress and when she’s through, I plan to read it, as well. Dat says he read it when he was a teen, so I know he’ll approve.
Business is as busy as ever at the bakery shop. It would be awful nice if you and your sisters could come over and see it for yourself sometime. Rhoda and Nan would enjoy seeing you, and while Mamma has recently been in need of some solitude—understandable, considering—she’d no doubt be glad for your company, too.
Lately I’ve been experimenting with a new cookie recipe, but I haven’t put it out in the display case just yet. I want to make sure it’s good and tasty first. I haven’t decided what to call it, either, but it’s chock-full of red, green, and yellow peanut chocolate candies. Mamma says I could call them cheer-you-up cookies because of all the colors. What do you think of that?
The Sunday after next we’re having Preaching service at Ephram’s, so we’ll go over there and help Maryann clean out her corners come Friday. It will be good to have some more time with her and her family again.
I hope you’ll write again soon.
Your cousin and friend,
Nellie Mae Fisher
There was so much more Nellie could have written. Next time maybe things would have calmed down to the point she wouldn’t have to mention a word about the private “tractor meetings” . . . or that it seemed their bishop had flown the coop.
CHAPTER 11
When Nellie spotted Iva Beiler at Singing in a bright cranberry-colored cape dress without even an apron over it, she immediately thought of strawberries and homemade ice cream. Where on earth had Iva gotten the bold, nearly red fabric? Surely not at the yard goods store they all frequented. Was she hoping to catch Caleb’s attention?
The sweetness of a lowland musk pervaded the area in the barn just below the haymow. A slight haze of dust hung in the air from the good sweeping the barn floor had doubtless received earlier.
Nellie Mae was glad for the large turnout. Lots of youth from other districts. She saw many new faces but not the face she most wanted to see. She certainly didn’t want to appear to be looking for Caleb or anyone in particular. That was the way to do things, she’d learned from coming along with Rhoda and Nan for a full year now. A few months back, Rhoda had announced she’d gotten her fill of these gatherings and quit coming. Nan, on the other hand, seemed to live for them, her blue eyes shining like boy-magnets.
Nellie chose to sit with some of the other girls at the far end of the length of narrow wooden tables, content to be where she was. Again, there was no sign of Caleb among the boys on the other side of the tables. Nellie reminded herself there was no need to worry: Caleb was her date this night. Oh, the way he’d looked at her last Lord’s Day—the inviting twinkle in his hazel eyes, eyes that looked into hers as if he’d been searching for her his whole life.
When at last she saw Caleb across the room, Nellie Mae’s heart skipped a beat. He came toward her, finding a place across the table only a short way down from her. In that same moment, Nellie spotted Susannah Lapp, whose eyes fleetingly met hers. One glance of understanding and they saw in each other the potential rivals they were.
Briefly looking once more at Caleb, Nellie remembered sitting with her three sisters in the schoolyard one spring years ago, watching the boys play baseball during afternoon recess. Caleb had been up to bat, and instead of swinging and fooling around at home base like most of the boys did to show off, he had leaned forward with the bat, licking his lips as he awaited the pitch.
Crack! On the very first pitch, the bat had slapped the ball, sending it high into the air, over the top of the boys’ outhouse and clear out past the white picket fence into the pastureland beyond. She remembered squealing as Caleb ran around to all the bases, his right foot stamping hard on each one as he flew by, headed for home. Never once had he looked over his shoulder at the outfielder, who was still hunting for the ball. Nellie had pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle her glee, so pleased he’d made the home run.
Presently he grinned across the table at her and then wiped the smile off his face fast. There were oodles more songs before they could talk to each other, assuming Caleb would even want to. The way he’d written to her, planning for her to wait elsewhere for him to pick her up, made her think he might not seek her out here at all, not in front of others. All of that was just fine with her, as long as he appeared later in his buggy to pick her up.
Suddenly feeling a bit shy, Nellie Mae decided to mingle with some of her girl cousins and her sister Nan, far removed from the table where they always sat to sing the usual songs. Surprisingly, someone had brought along a guitar. Instruments were not usually allowed, at least at the Singings meant only for their church district. Was all the fuss about pushing the limits of the Ordnung filtering into the Singings, too?
Dozens of boys gathered around the fellow, and Nellie longed to press in and see the fingers working the strings that made such lovely music. For sure and for certain, something was quite different about this gathering—even though it was much too early in the evening, girls and boys were already pairing off. Some had gone high into the haymow to sit and dangle their feet over the sides, holding hands and laughing.
Her heart beat faster as she wondered if Caleb might sit that close to her tonight in his buggy. While she’d ridden next to several different boys on other nights, none of them had affected her the way Caleb did even now, from the other side of the room.
“Nellie Mae.” She turned to see him smiling down at her. “Let’s go walkin’.”
She nodded, following him, but he slowed to let her walk beside him toward the barn doors, instead of behind like some boys preferred.
“Such a moon.” He glanced at her, smiling more freely now as they stepped into the privacy of twilight.
She wanted to say something memorable, but the right words didn’t come. It wasn’t that she was too timid to speak; she simply wanted every word to count.
“Did you see that guitarist?” he asked. “Came all the way up from Georgetown. My older brother knows of him.
Says he’s trouble.”
“No doubt. Uncle Bishop’s gone a few days, and this?”
There, she’d said something worthwhile, or so she hoped.
Caleb stopped, his back to the full moon. She couldn’t make out his expression in the shadow. “Bishop Joseph’s gone? But where?”
Her heart sank. “You didn’t know? I figured your father or one of the other menfolk must be helpin’ with his livestock.” She went on. “Aunt Anna was in the shop Monday to purchase some sweets for their trip. They’re out visitin’ her relatives in Iowa,” she said, telling what little she knew.
Caleb stood silhouetted against the blazing white moon, taller than she’d ever remembered. And silent.
“They’re in need of some rest, is all,” she offered.
“Well, I hope they have a right good time.” He leaned toward her and reached for her hand.
The Parting Page 8
