Though she always made an effort to be kind to me, Marta tended to come across rather abrupt and aloof, at least to me. I’d always been intimidated by her, but then again, I had a feeling there was a side to her I’d simply never seen. There had to be some reason that every one of her clients loved her so dearly. Zed did too. They had an easy relationship. I’d never heard him say anything negative about his mother at all.
Mamm took Marta’s cape and hung it on the company peg, inviting her to stay for lunch as she did.
“I’d like that very much,” Marta said. From her body language, I had the feeling she was here to talk to Mamm, not me.
Daed must have sensed it too, because he disappeared into the living room, probably to get some work done at his desk. Mamm sent Thomas to change his clothes. Without saying anything, I went back to my room, rewrapping my quilt around my core and taking up my embroidery, trying to imagine what Marta was doing here. It didn’t seem to be an emergency. Surely she would have said right away if there had been some tragedy.
Fifteen minutes later, Mamm stood in the doorway to my room and told me to come set the table. She seemed, as she usually did these days, annoyed with me. I untangled myself, put down my work, and shuffled into the kitchen. After washing my hands, I set myself to the task.
Mamm stirred the pot on the stove, sending up the aroma of some kind of soup. My mouth watered. She was a wonderful cook, much better than I ever hoped to be. I grew distracted while cooking. It took too much time, keeping me away from my little room and work I enjoyed.
Mamm put the lid back on the pot and turned toward Marta. “Are you off to see a client this afternoon?”
“No,” she said, tucking her hands into her apron pockets. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tidy bun under her rounded Mennonite kapp, and she wore a beige sweater over her blue print dress. “I’m taking the day off.”
I counted out the plates from the cupboard and started toward the table.
“I’ll do those,” Marta said, reaching out her hands.
I transferred the stack to her and stepped back toward the cupboard.
As we all worked, the conversation between Mamm and Marta moved to the subject of our neighbor’s son, Ben Yoder. He had grown up Amish but then went off to community college and then to Goshen, just like Zed, only he had majored in some sort of science and then gone on to medical school.
“He’s still studying?” Mamm asked.
“He’s finishing his residency—internal medicine. I think he only has another month or so.”
“Oh,” Mamm said.
I put the glasses on the table and returned to the cupboard. Ben’s mamm and daed were in our district. I knew some Amish-raised people who had chosen not to join the church and gone on to further their education, but he was the only one I had ever heard of who had taken it this far and become a doctor. The Yoders seemed neither embarrassed by, nor impressed with, their son. Just matter of fact. One time I overheard his mother tell another woman, “It’s what God intended for him.” I didn’t hear the other woman’s question, but I could guess she wasn’t minding her own business. Ben’s mother’s response was gracious, though, and, I believed, honest.
Still, I was sure it must have hurt his parents, on some level, for him not to join the church and become Amish himself. I knew it would hurt my parents if one of us didn’t. I also knew the five of us who hadn’t yet, likely would. Sometimes I forgot I hadn’t already. I’d always wanted to please God. I had an essential relationship with Him, telling Him about my worries—over and over at times. I found comfort in the Scriptures—over and over too.
I put the last glass on and then counted out the bowls.
Marta asked about my siblings and how they were getting along, and Mamm gave a quick rundown as she sliced a loaf of freshly baked bread. She said that Melvin was courting a girl close to where he was working, that Becky didn’t plan to teach next year, and that Sadie’s youngest was finally sleeping through the night. Then, most likely because she didn’t want to do all the talking, she asked about Ella, Marta’s daughter who was married now and living in Indiana on an old family farm called the Home Place. The property included a bakery and apparently Ella prepared her incredible treats daily and sold them to an eager clientele.
“Well, that’s one of the reasons I’m here,” Marta said. “Ella needs some extra help, a caregiver of sorts. And she and I both thought of Izzy.”
I fumbled a bowl and it clattered onto a plate, rattling until I put my hand on top of it, settling it.
Mamm turned back to Marta, who was counting out spoons, knives, and forks. “Oh?”
Marta stepped back to the table. “Ella will need help for only a couple of weeks. My cousin Rosalee lives with Ella and Luke and works in the bakery, but yesterday she fell from a ladder and broke both her hip and fibula. Thankfully, the leg break isn’t bad, but she will be in a walking cast for a few weeks. With Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up, Ella has more orders than she and Rosalee could handle as it was.”
“I don’t bake,” I interjected. I used to like to when I was younger, but I didn’t anymore. Over the years I’d burned more things than I could count.
Marta shook her head. “Ella can handle the bakery, but not if she’s spending all of her time taking care of Rosalee. She needs a caregiver—”
“I don’t do that anymore either,” I blurted out.
“Izzy, stop.” Mamm held her wooden spoon in midair.
I bowed my head and headed to the drawer for the napkins.
Marta looked at me with what seemed to be understanding. “Rosalee is in good health, Izzy, except for what just happened. But the breaks are so bad that she’s going to be in a wheelchair with her leg straight out for a while.”
I pondered that for a moment and then asked, “Isn’t there a caregiver in their community who can do the work?”
Marta took a deep breath. “I’m sure there is, but there are some extenuating circumstances here.”
“Oh?”
“Ella is expecting.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the news. Zed was going to be an uncle. I wondered if anyone had told him yet or if they just expected him to figure it out for himself once his sister began to show.
“Anyway, Ella remembers how good you were with her father, and she thinks you would fit in well in her household too.”
“Fit in?”
Marta shrugged. “You’re low-key, Izzy. Easy to be around. And that’s exactly what she wants right now.”
While I was flattered by the compliment, I wished I could feel as certain about this as Ella apparently did.
I met Marta’s gaze and asked how old Rosalee was.
“Just over sixty,” she replied.
Mamm looked at me. “See? That’s not old at all. What do you think?”
I hated being put on the spot like that, so I mumbled, “I’m not sure,” and then turned to busy myself with carefully folding each napkin and setting it into place at the table. As much as I didn’t want to take on another caregiving role, there was one hugely important factor here. If I went to Indiana, I would be closer to Zed.
“How far is Ella’s farm from Goshen College?” I asked Marta, my face flushing as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
She didn’t react one way or the other. She simply said, “I’m not sure exactly, but Zed spends a lot of weekends at Ella’s, so it can’t be too far.”
I nodded, my heart beginning to pound in my chest.
Was it possible? Was this God’s doing? Was He making a way for us to be together?
“I know what I’m thinking.” Daed stood in the doorway, interrupting my thoughts. “You should go. You need a change of scenery.”
That’s exactly what I was starting to think too. My desire to be with Zed outweighed my extreme trepidation at taking on yet another caretaking position.
“What about my work for Susie?”
“You can mail it.” With a small smile, he added, “It�
�ll get to her faster than it does now.”
We all fell silent after that, and then Marta gave me a kind smile and said, “Just think on it, Izzy. You don’t have to answer right this second.”
I nodded, grateful she understood the need to process my thoughts. She seemed to understand that my parents and I would have to discuss it a bit more among ourselves as well, because after lunch she insisted on doing the dishes, saying, “The three of you go talk.”
Thomas kept Marta company at the sink, chattering away, while my parents and I went down the hall, past the bathroom and bedroom, to my little sewing room, where we could speak privately.
“I really think you should do this,” Mamm said in a soft voice as she closed the door and leaned against it. “Not just because their family needs your help, but because you need to get up and out again. You’ve been hiding here at home for far too long. It’s time to go back into the world.”
Regardless of what they were declaring, I knew it was my decision. They couldn’t force me to go.
On the other hand, I realized, they weren’t working with all of the facts. Bottom line, if they knew I was in love with my best friend, a Mennonite, would they still be urging me to go so strongly? They loved Zed, yes, but they also would recognize the conundrum here, that if he and I married, I would not be joining the Amish church. And that was huge.
For a moment I considered telling them the truth, but in the end I held back. I just couldn’t bring myself to confess such a private matter of the heart to them when I’d barely gotten used to the idea myself. I felt bad about that, as though I were lying somehow. Then again, I was an adult now, and as an adult I was under no obligation to share the details of my thought life with my parents.
This decision would need to be mine alone because I was the only one with all the facts. I did love the idea of being so close—geographically—to Zed, and I could only hope my presence there would make us emotionally closer as well.
Unfortunately, there was the matter of living with Zed’s sister, Ella, as she had always seemed so brash and pushy to me. Zed had mentioned several times in the past year or two how much she had softened since she’d moved to Indiana, converted to the Amish faith, and gotten married. I could only hope he was right. He also said her husband was a great guy, so there was that as well.
I didn’t know anything about Rosalee, but the thought of caring for someone in relatively good health for a change was appealing to me. Of course, Verna had seemed in good health too, and look how that ended up. Then again, she was ninety-one, so statistically her chances of living much longer hadn’t been great regardless.
At least Rosalee was younger—just a decade older than Daed. “Marta’s sure nothing else is wrong with her?”
“That’s what she said.” Mamm crossed her arms over her sweater.
I chewed on my lower lip. “How will I get to Indiana?”
“The bus, I suppose,” Daed said. “We can ask Marta what she has in mind.”
My gaze shifted to the window and the rain pelting the glass. One more good reason to take the job was that it wouldn’t hurt for me to get a break from Mamm. I knew she loved me, and I loved her, but our personalities were so different, and we were clashing more and more all the time.
“Izzy?” Mamm’s voice was pitched high. It was clear I was getting on her nerves even at that moment.
Even Daed’s voice held a hint of exasperation. “Are you still with us?”
I turned away from the window, slowly, and nodded.
“Then it’s settled?” he asked.
“Ya, it’s settled. I’ll go to Indiana.”
TEN
The long bus trip never happened, thanks to a family in our next district over who had hired a driver to take them to a wedding in Indiana. I was able to ride along with them, but by the time we arrived, I wished I had taken the bus, even though this way was faster and cheaper. People have the idea that Amish children are well behaved. Maybe they are compared to other American kids, but twelve hours in a van with seven children aged three to thirteen about drove me out the window. I pretended to sleep for the last three hours as an escape. We’d left at four a.m., so dozing, as best I could with the racket going on, wasn’t a problem.
By the time the van reached our destination, my nerves were frayed. I may have saved some money, but I hoped I still had my sanity too.
The driver turned down the lane toward the Home Place, past the bakery that had a sign out front—Plain Treats. The words were carved and painted white.
As we continued up the driveway toward the house, through the dusk, I could make out woods to my left and an orchard to my right. Ahead was a huge house.
“What a nice farm,” the driver said as he pulled to a stop.
It was.
I climbed out of the van, saying a farewell to each member of the family, and met the driver at the back of the van, where he retrieved my suitcase. I’d already paid him my share when he picked me up that morning, so I thanked him and started toward the front porch.
“Over here, Izzy!” Ella hurried down the steps from the house’s back door, waving with one hand and wiping the other on her apron. Her brown eyes shone as a tall, dark-haired man appeared from around the back and joined her—her husband, Luke, I was sure. As I came closer, I saw a pile of lumber behind the house and realized he was still holding a saw in his hand.
Ella surged toward me, giving me a hug. Zed had never mentioned Ella’s pregnancy, neither in person nor in his letters, so I had assumed it was new news. But from the feel of her belly against me, she was further along than a few months, more like six or seven. Of course, it was rude to ask or even bring it up, so I held my tongue and kept my eyes on her face as we pulled apart.
“This is Luke,” she said, nodding toward him.
I’d heard he was handsome—but that was an understatement. Under his hat, black hair showed that matched his beard. His gray eyes smiled as he gave me a nod and took my bag from me. “Pleased to meet you.”
I nodded in return, repeating the sentiment. Luke seemed to be just as nice as Zed had told me he was.
“We’ll put you downstairs,” Ella said. “We’ve moved Rosalee down too.” She nodded toward the pile of lumber. “Luke is building a ramp for when she’s ready to come outside.”
The stairs were steep, which meant the ramp would need to have a switchback, or maybe two. Either way, it was a big job.
“Come on in,” Ella said, grabbing my hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She seemed genuinely happy to have me.
As I climbed the steps and followed her into the kitchen, the smell of roasting chicken greeted me. I had forgotten what an incredible cook Ella was until that moment, and my stomach rumbled as I breathed in the scent. Luke disappeared down a hall with my bag, and she pulled me around a large table and through an archway into the living room. “Rosalee is in here. She’s so glad you were available to come out.”
Seated in a wheelchair facing the window was a woman with a quilt wrapped around her shoulders.
“Izzy’s arrived,” Ella said, stopping beside the chair and leaning over a little.
For a moment I feared Rosalee was much more frail than I’d been led to believe, but then she put her hands on the wheels of the chair and, as Ella stepped backward, maneuvered it around by herself.
Rosalee’s skin was nearly as pale as her white hair and kapp, but she appeared healthy otherwise, except for her right leg sticking out straight on a horizontal leg rest. “Welcome,” she said, her voice strong. She smiled then, a broad, friendly expression considering the trauma she’d recently endured.
We exchanged greetings, and she seemed nice enough. After that, Ella suggested I get settled in my room and then meet them back in the kitchen. “We’ll eat in about ten minutes.”
I headed in the direction she told me, down the hall to the last door on the right. Halfway there, I turned back to see that Rosalee was stubbornly propelling her wheelchair toward the kitchen, d
espite Ella’s offer of help. The older woman was having a bit of struggle, but I was still glad to see it. I doubted I’d have to encourage her to take responsibility for her independence as I cared for her.
When I reached my room, I saw that Luke had put my suitcase on the floor by the single bed. On the nightstand was an oil lamp I was tempted to use but decided I still had enough natural light—barely—to unpack my things. I hung my dresses on the pegs lining the wall opposite the bed and then placed my other things in the drawers of the small bureau. It took me only a few minutes. I stood at the window and peered out into the woods, overcome with a deep sense of yearning, wondering how long it would be until Zed could break away from his studies and come to see me. Today was a Monday, probably a busy day for him, so I hadn’t expected him to be here when I arrived. Still, I hoped he wouldn’t have to wait until the weekend before he could come.
Then again, I wasn’t even sure if he knew I was here. It had all happened so fast that there hadn’t been time for me to write him about it. So unless he learned the news from Ella or his mother, he wouldn’t have known. I considered asking Ella if she had said anything to him, but I didn’t want to appear overeager, so I decided to hold my tongue and wait and see.
On the trip out, I’d studied the driver’s map and calculated that Goshen College was only about twenty miles away from Nappanee and even closer, by a few miles, to the Home Place. That wasn’t far at all, so I hoped to see him soon.
I raised the window a crack and made out the faint hum of Luke’s saw and the fresh scent of the trees.
“Izzy?” Ella’s footsteps followed her voice. “Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll be right there.” I closed the window, made sure the matches were where I could find them when I came back to my room, and headed down the hall to the kitchen, hoping Rosalee’s smile had been genuine and that she was as healthy, except for her broken leg and hip, as everyone claimed.
That night after supper, I was about to help Ella with the dishes when Rosalee asked me to sit back down, saying she wanted to discuss something with me.
The Amish Seamstress Page 12
