Sense and Sensibility

by Sarah Price

  Chapter Nine

  IT’S GOING TO rain!” Maggie whined, leaning backward as Mary Ann tried to drag her through the front door. After a long day spent first at worship and then trapped inside the house, Mary Ann insisted on taking a nice, leisurely stroll outside. She wanted to see how far back Jacob’s property went and, as usual, felt drawn to the back portion with its wooded area that surely provided a haven for woodland creatures.

  However, despite Mary Ann’s determination not to walk alone through the old lane at the back of the farm, Maggie was equally determined not to go.

  “Nee, it’s not!” Mary Ann retorted, pushing at her younger sister.

  “You always say it’s not going to rain, and then it does!” Maggie’s resistance included grabbing at the door frame so that Mary Ann couldn’t drag her beyond the entrance.

  “The sky is perfectly blue!” Mary Ann tugged at Maggie’s arm.

  “It’s gray!” Maggie retorted, her fingers gripping the frame even harder.

  “Ja, vell, you see gray and I see blue. Same colors, just at different points on the spectrum. Besides, I’m tired of being cooped inside!” Mary Ann refused to release Maggie’s hand. “It’s been a week of nothing but work, work, work.”

  Eleanor looked up from where she sat, reading from her daily devotional book. “And church.”

  Mary Ann made a face. “How could I forget? After surviving Christian Bechtler’s long-winded sermon today? That’s just one more reason I need to get some fresh air and walk!”

  No one could argue with Mary Ann on that comment. Even Eleanor had thought Christian’s sermon, while spoken with great eloquence, was a little too long, especially since there were close to two hundred people in the large gathering room at the farmhouse down the road. With poor air circulation, the temperature of the room increased quickly, causing several heads to bob up and down as people tried to stay awake. One man with a long white beard who sat toward the front of the men’s section actually took to snoring, a fact that caused several of the younger children to giggle.

  Mary Ann, however, had expressed her displeasure during the entire walk back to the cottage. And later on, when Christian showed up on their doorstep, his Sunday attire still impeccably clean with nary so much as one food or coffee stain, Mary Ann could hardly stay in the same room as him. The more his eyes wandered in her direction, the more Mary Ann looked away.

  Finally Mary Ann prevailed on Maggie for a walk, and with them gone, the house quieted down and Eleanor could sit and rock in peace while her mother read the Bible. A breeze from the open window carried the soft songs of sparrows that were playing in the trees just beyond the cottage. The way the cottage was situated, trees and shrubbery blocked its view from the nearby street. The isolation was definitely different from the farm in Manheim, for they could not see the street nor hear passing horses and buggies.

  In just over a week the house had come a long way toward slowly becoming a home. After two days of cleaning Eleanor had insisted that they repaint the main gathering room and adjoining kitchen so that it appeared less gloomy. It was so small that the four of them finished it in just one day. The difference, however, was immediately apparent. Even Jacob and Widow Jennings commented one evening on how lively the cottage felt, now that someone was taking care of it. A few other older women from the g’may stopped by to meet them and wish them well, and they too complimented the newcomers on the transformation in their home.

  While Christian Bechtler’s services might not have met Mary Ann’s expectations—although Eleanor suspected that nothing Christian did would have made that conquest!—both Eleanor and her mother were quite pleased with their new church district. Now that August was almost over, Maggie would be starting school in a few days, and that would leave the older Detweilers time to interact more with the women of the g’may.

  Eleanor was particularly anticipating the time when her mother developed a small social network so that she could attend quilting bees in the winter. Despite two months having passed since the funeral of John Detweiler, an air of sadness lingered around his widow. No matter how much Maem tried to hide it, Eleanor saw through her poorly acted attempts to appear happy.

  So when she heard her mother sigh and close the Bible, Eleanor was not surprised on looking up from her reading to see a desolate expression on her mother’s face. “Everything all right, then, Maem?” she asked.

  Her mother looked around the room. Her eyes appeared tired. There had been far too much change in her life over the past two months. Eleanor’s heart broke for her. “Oh, nothing more than missing your daed, I reckon,” her mother said at last. Her attempt at a soft smile failed. “Everything happened so fast.” She hesitated and shut her eyes. “So unexpected . . . ”

  Out of respect Eleanor remained quiet. She suspected her mother needed to share her feelings. It had been such an emotional time, but her mother had bottled up most of her sadness, holding herself together as custom and tradition dictated. After all Daed was with Jesus now, and while his wife and daughters missed him, they all knew that heaven was a much better place for him. Somehow, though, that knowledge did not make the pain go away.

  Maem took a deep breath. For a moment she appeared to be silently praying, her lips moving ever so slightly. When she finally opened her eyes and met her daughter’s concerned gaze, Eleanor was startled to notice the dark circles under her mother’s eyes and the drawn, gaunt look of her face. It was apparent that Maem had lost too much weight. She’d have to make certain her mother ate better.

  “I must say that your daed would be rather disappointed in John.”

  Eleanor bowed her head, too embarrassed for her half brother to respond. With nothing kind to say about his behavior, she knew that the only response to offer was silence.

  Her maem sighed once again. “I practically raised that boy after his maem died. I did my best for him as if he were my own son.”

  The truth of the matter was that, indeed, Maem had raised John. His birth mother had died from a complicated pregnancy, leaving father and son alone to fend for themselves. At five years of age, John needed a new mother and Henry needed a wife. Henry waited an appropriate amount of time before he started courting again. John had just turned seven when his father finally remarried.

  The greatest tragedy was that Maem truly doted on him. This only made his abandonment of his stepmother and half sisters even harder to forgive, never mind trying to understand it. What disturbed Eleanor the most was that, had Fanny not been so aggressive in her desire to establish a new pecking order at the farm, the families could have lived and worked on the farm in a communal manner that would have ensured John and Fanny’s success as well as Maem and her daughters’ survival.

  Fanny, however, had been far too determined to establish herself as head of the Detweiler household, even if that meant displacing Maem.

  Maem’s eyes roamed around the room, taking in the plain, bare walls. No calendars, no quilt samplers, no cross-stitched Bible verses adorned the wall. They didn’t even have room for a display cabinet.

  “This is not the life that he wanted for you girls, that’s for sure and certain.”

  “We will make do, Maem,” Eleanor said, trying to reassure her.

  “And you . . . I know that you have given up the most with this move, Eleanor.”

  At this statement, Eleanor frowned. “What do you mean? Certainly I have given up no more and quite possibly less.”

  Her mother shook her head and finally managed that soft smile. “Not being near your Edwin must be quite difficult. It was my sole delay in deciding to move away from that farm. But I trust that the affections are deep enough that we shall soon see him on our doorstep.”

  Before Eleanor could respond, the front door burst open. Maggie ran into the room, breathless and panic-stricken.

  “Heavens to Betsy, Maggie!” Eleanor cried as both she and her mother jumped to their feet.

  “Oh, Maem, it’s Mary Ann!” Maggie tried to catch her
breath. She fell against her mother, burying her head against Maem’s shoulder. “I told her not to cut through that back field.”

  Eleanor placed her hands on Maggie’s shoulders and turned her around. Facing her sister, Eleanor stared directly into her eyes. “What has happened, Maggie? You must tell us.”

  “The horse kicked her,” Maggie finally said. “Right in the knee.”

  She was about to ask her where Mary Ann was when she heard the sound of a man’s boots on the doorstep. With her hands still on Maggie’s shoulders, Eleanor looked up in surprise. Indeed an Amish man walked into the room, carrying Mary Ann in his arms. “What is this?” she asked, hurrying to the stranger’s side as he crossed the small room toward the rocking chair Maem had just vacated. She helped him situate Mary Ann so that she sat comfortably, her leg propped up on the small ottoman.

  “She’s all right,” the man said, kneeling before Mary Ann. He looked up at their mother and explained. “I found the two of them near the fencing along the back paddock. When I saw the horse kick her, I hurried right over and examined her knee. I don’t think it’s broken.”

  Neither Maem nor Eleanor spoke, both being too stunned to say anything.

  “Ach, my manners.” He stood up and extended his hand. “John Willis at your service. Most people call me Willis though. There are quite a few Johns to be confused with in the g’may, it seems.” He glanced at Mary Ann and smiled.

  Eleanor saw that Mary Ann, despite her pale cheeks and trembling hands, could not remove her eyes from Willis’s face. In truth, Eleanor could not blame her sister, for Willis made a striking figure in his black pants and pale blue shirt. His tanned skin, the color of bronze from clearly having worked outside, glistened with perspiration from having carried Mary Ann such a great distance. When he looked at Mary Ann, his dark eyes seemed to flash, staring deeply into her face as if they were the only two people in the room. And Mary Ann did not turn away when he did so.

  “Willis, please, won’t you sit?” Eleanor said, breaking the silence in the room at last. She gestured toward one of the other two chairs in the room.

  He tore his eyes away from Mary Ann long enough to stand. “Nee, I cannot. Cows cannot wait. But if I may, perhaps I might stop by tomorrow to see how that knee is holding up?”

  “We can’t thank you enough,” Maem managed to say.

  He dipped his head and took his hat from Maggie, smiling his gratitude at her. Then, with one last look at Mary Ann, he departed from the cottage.

  A few seconds of silence filled the room, each one of the Detweilers staring at the door in which Willis had just departed.

  “Heavens to Betsy,” Maem whispered to herself.

  “Oh, Maem!” Mary Ann gushed. “Did you see him?”

  Eleanor turned her head and looked sharply at her sister. “Mary Ann!”

  “He picked me up like I weighed nothing,” she sighed, ignoring her sister. “And he was so polite, wasn’t he?” This question was directed to Maggie, who sat nearby, her eyes glowing and her attention focused on Mary Ann.

  “And handsome!” Maggie added dreamily. “I just know he will come calling on you, Mary Ann!”

  Putting her hands on her hips, Eleanor shifted her reprimand. “Maggie!”

  Maem collected herself and shooed Maggie out of the room, instructing her to run up to Jacob’s house for Widow Jennings to help tend to Mary Ann’s knee.

  “I miss all of the good conversations!” Maggie mumbled as she sulked out of the room.

  “Honestly, Mary Ann,” Eleanor said when their youngest sister was gone from the house. “You must be more discreet.”

  “Oh fiddle-faddle!” She waved her hand at Eleanor dismissively. “What is there to be so discreet about? He was polite and certainly is handsome! Besides I should be able to speak freely in my own home and with my own family.”

  With a raised eyebrow, Eleanor gave her a warning look but said no more on the matter.

  For the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, Mary Ann seemed lost in her own thoughts, a small smile on her face as she gazed out the window. And when Widow Jennings and Jacob finally stopped by, for they had not been home when Maggie went to fetch them, it was clear that they were both more concerned about her happiness than her health.

  Eleanor focused her attention on preparing their supper rather than participating in the discussion about John Willis, a man apparently known by many but of which little was known. After all, while he visited his aunt frequently, his parents’ residence was in a more distant church district up near Narvon. While Eleanor could not force her sister to display more discretion in allowing others to learn of her interest in Willis, she could demonstrate a model of sense by not gossiping with the others. And pray that Mary Ann’s sensibility would not be injured by her instant attachment to the young man in question.

  Chapter Ten

  ON MONDAY MORNING, John Willis stopped by the cottage shortly before nine o’clock. Eleanor happened to be standing at the kitchen sink and saw him walking up the lane, his steps brisk and hurried. Eleanor glanced over her shoulder at Mary Ann, who sat in the rocking chair, nursing her knee. True to his word, he had come visiting as soon as was proper to check on her condition.

  “John Willis is here,” she said to the others in the room.

  Mary Ann, galvanized by the announcement, sat upright and winced at the pain in her knee. “Oh! How do I look?” she asked, staring first at Eleanor and then at her mother. She smoothed back her hair and pinched at her cheeks. Maem hurried over and covered Mary Ann’s exposed leg with a crocheted blanket and then quickly put away the sewing basket that was set out.

  When he knocked at the door, Maem sat back in her rocking chair, setting the Bible on her lap, and Mary Ann nodded for Eleanor to answer the door.

  “I’ve come to see the patient,” Willis said cheerfully as he entered the room, a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. He handed them to Mary Ann as Eleanor brought over a chair for him to sit beside the sofa. “I picked them myself while I walked.”

  Mary Ann buried her nose in the flowers and breathed deeply. “Oh, they are from a butterfly bush! They smell simply divine.” She reached out to hand them to Eleanor. “Would you . . . ?”

  Taking the flowers, Eleanor carried them to the sink and put them in a tall glass vase to set on the table. From that vantage point she watched as Willis leaned over and softly inquired further about how Mary Ann was feeling. When he reached over, hesitating for a moment before he pulled back the blanket to investigate her swollen knee, Mary Ann’s expression changed from fondness to adoration.

  “Ah, the swelling should be down by the day after next, I reckon,” he said as he gently replaced the blanket. “Just in time for the weekend.”

  “What is this weekend?” Mary Ann asked coyly.

  Willis smiled at her. “The day I shall take you for a ride to see the area in a safe and pleasant manner: by buggy!”

  Mary Ann lit up and gave him a soft smile. “That would be right nice, Willis.”

  And then they began to share verses from the Bible, the Song of Solomon seeming to be the book of interest for the two of them. Eleanor rolled her eyes and busied herself at the kitchen sink, taking time to wash a bowl that was already clean. Listening to them recite songs of love was almost too much to bear for Eleanor. Given how little they knew of the man, the intimacy seemed far too inappropriate in Eleanor’s opinion, something she reminded herself to mention to Mary Ann later.

  Not twenty minutes had passed when, in the distance, she heard the sound of horse hooves. Peering through the small window in the kitchen, she spotted Christian Bechtler riding his horse around the bend by the evergreens and down the lane that ran alongside the split rail fence.

  “Preacher Bechtler is coming,” she called out over her shoulder. She dried her hands on the front of her work apron and, out of habit, quickly looked around the room. She already knew that everything was tidy and clean because Maem had readied the house ea
rlier that morning in anticipation of John Willis’s visit. As she looked around, her eyes fell on Mary Ann and Willis who were whispering, their heads bent forward so that their words could not be overheard by anyone else in the room.

  “Did you hear me, Mary Ann?” Eleanor said, taking a step toward the front door.

  Willis got up to leave, but Mary Ann waylaid him with a quick—and far too desperate in Eleanor’s opinion—hand on his arm. “Must you leave so soon? Just because Christian is here doesn’t mean you must go!”

  He graced her with a warm smile and placed his hand over hers, a gesture that Eleanor noticed with concern but Mary Ann with delight. “But I shall return, Mary Ann. Saturday if not sooner. You will be here waiting, ja?”

  Eleanor glanced at her mother, who, rather than finding his question inappropriate, stood watching the scene unfold with a happy expression on her face.

  “Mayhaps tomorrow, Willis? We’ve had such a good visit. I cannot believe that we share so many favorite verses!”

  He wasted no time to lower his voice and let his eyelids droop as he recited one last scripture from the Song of Solomon.

  “My beloved speaks and says to me:

  ‘Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away;

  for now the winter is past, the rain is over and gone.

  The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come,

  and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

  The fig tree puts forth its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance.

  Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.’”