Jethro scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I bought locks for all the doors. She can’t take anything else.”
David took Jethro’s easy chair, Adam and Dat sat on the sofa, and Norman, Willie Jay, and Jethro sat on the floor. It wasn’t comfortable, but the floor wasn’t much worse than the backless benches they sat on every other week for church. Adam was the deacon of the church. It was comforting to have a minister and a deacon sitting in his living room, offering their help to get his fraa to come home. As Mary Anne’s cousin, Norman Coblenz was another strong ally. Norman had always rubbed Jethro the wrong way with his rigid and immovable opinions of the church and the Ordnung, but now it seemed he was the only one of Mary Anne’s relatives who wasn’t blind to her sins.
David settled into the easy chair. “Jethro, something has got to be done about your fraa. She is setting a bad example for the gmayna.”
“I know,” Jethro said. Mary Anne had already led many of her cousins astray. What would David think if he knew his daughter Lily was in the woods right now, working on one of Mary Anne’s quilts?
Adam Wengerd leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “Die youngie watch her behavior and think that when they are married they will be able to leave anytime they want.” Adam had two unmarried sons and a teenage daughter. He knew what he was talking about.
“The Helmuths have always been a troublesome lot.” David inclined his head in Norman’s direction. “Not all of you.”
Norman shook his head. “Don’t mention it. I agree with you.” Norman’s sister Cassie had left the church, and Anna and Felty had matched her up with an Englisch doctor. Norman would probably never get over it.
David’s daughter Lily had married Mary Anne’s cousin Aden, and the whole thing was still a sore spot for David. “Not a month ago I heard Anna and Felty in the market arguing like children. If I had known about the Helmuth family problems before you married, Jethro, I would have warned you off all of them.”
Such a warning wouldn’t have mattered to Jethro. He had been so turned over every which way for Mary Anne, the angel Gabriel himself couldn’t have talked Jethro out of marrying her. The memory of their wedding day stole his breath. Mary Anne had worn a blue dress that had made her eyes look like cornflowers sitting on a snow-covered hill. She was like the sunshine and the evening star and the first bud of spring all in one person. He’d never forget her smile or how completely happy he had been. Ach, how things had changed!
“Some of our fraaen are discontented,” David said. “We men are not perfect, and I fear Mary Anne’s behavior has given the women an excuse to leave their husbands if we make even a tiny mistake. They’ll think they can get better gifts if they threaten to move out of the house when we forget a birthday.” Jethro swallowed the lump in his throat. “I shouldn’t have forgotten our anniversary.”
“It’s not your fault, Jethro,” David said. “Who hasn’t forgotten a special day or neglected to clean off his boots before coming into the house? We all make mistakes. Wives and husbands are expected to forgive each other.”
“I would forgive Mary Anne with all my heart if she’d only move back in.”
David nodded. “Of course you would. We all would.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “Mary Anne has got to move back home before she upsets the whole applecart. That’s all there is to it.”
Jethro threw up his hands. “What can I do? I’ve tried everything.”
Norman flared his nostrils. “You need to go out there right now and tell her she is going to hell.”
Jethro pressed his lips together. Mary Anne wasn’t going to hell, was she? She didn’t love him anymore, and fraaen were commanded to love their husbands. Maybe she would go to hell for breaking the commandments, but who was he to pass that kind of judgment on anybody? Not even the bishop had done that. “I’ve talked and talked until Mary Anne is sick of my voice. I’ve quoted every scripture I can think of. I’ve reminded her of her duty as a fraa. If David’s sermon at gmay didn’t convince her to change her ways, I don’t know that anything will.”
David was obviously pleased with the compliment, but it didn’t solve their problem. David stroked his beard, which held a few wiry strands of gray hair. “The only thing I can think to say is that you need to be firm. Joshua told the children of Israel, ‘Be strong and of a good courage.’ That is your task. Be a man. Your wife will respect you if you stand up to her.”
“Getting locks was a gute start,” Adam said. “She knows she can’t just do anything she wants and get away with it.”
Norman narrowed his eyes. “And don’t apologize for forgetting your anniversary. It only makes you seem weak.”
Jethro slumped his shoulders. “I already apologized.”
“Well, don’t do it again. Your word is law, and she has to truly believe it or she will never choose the path of obedience.” Norman laced his fingers together. “You need to put your foot down. I saw her in town the other day in your buggy.”
Adam shook his head. “You can’t let her use the buggy.”
“In your heart, you know what you have to do,” David said. “We cannot tell you exactly what, but if you remember to show your fraa strength instead of weakness, she will change her ways. She has to have confidence in your judgment and strong hand. She has to know that you are the capable leader of this family.”
Jethro nodded, even as his heart ached. There was no family, and there never would be. Jethro couldn’t be a leader when there wasn’t a flock. Besides, was that the kind of leader he wanted to be?
One nice thing about a meeting where some people sat on the floor: it tended to be short. Everyone stood up and shook Jethro’s hand in turn. David gave him an especially firm handshake. “We are counting on you, Jethro. If you don’t solve this, more fraaen will start to get bad ideas, and then where will we be?”
Dat shook hands with Jethro and leaned close to his ear. “Don’t mention to your mamm I was here.”
Jethro watched through the front window as Willie Jay and Dat got into one buggy and Adam, Norman, and David got into another. They had just set the weight of the world on his shoulders. What was he going to do with it? The gmayna was depending on him not only to save his own marriage, but all the other marriages as well. It was a greater task than he could ever accomplish.
Jethro trudged into the kitchen and took a look out the back window again. Mary Anne, her three cousins, and Anna and Felty were sitting around the quilt on six of his kitchen chairs, putting stitches in the quilt as if they were born with needles in their hands.
Six of his kitchen chairs? How long had they been gone? He drew his brows together. Hadn’t they all been inside the house on the day he’d put in the locks? Jah, he was sure of it.
Had Mary Anne somehow gotten into the house? Had he forgotten to lock the doors one day last week?
His heart pounded against his chest, and he straightened his spine in righteous indignation. How dare she? How dare she think she could still come into this house and take whatever she wanted? She had lost that privilege when she moved out. No matter how uncomfortable, she had made her bed, and he expected her to lie in it. One thing was for certain: He was going to be a man, firm and unyielding, and he was going to get his chairs back. Now.
He slammed the door behind him and rattled every window in the house. Halfway across the lawn, it hit him. He had locked the doors, but he hadn’t locked the windows. Would Mary Anne stoop to climbing through a window? Of course she would. She had stolen his money. She was smart enough for anything, and he was going to stop indulging her.
Before he reached the edge of the woods, he slowed his steps and wiped the scowl off his face. Mary Anne deserved his wrath, but three cousins and her grandparents were also there. He would temper his reaction in front of them. Besides, he didn’t want to scare die kinner.
Anna’s dog, Sparky, barked at him as if he was a robber, and ran around and around Jethro’s feet, nipping at his pant leg. He h
ad to tiptoe to keep from stepping on her. Lily and Aden’s giant dog, Pilot, loped around Jethro’s backyard playing tag with Lia’s little boy, Crist. Pilot barked at Jethro but was too busy to attack. Gute. Pilot tended to jump on people, and Jethro was in no kind of mood.
Anna and Mary Anne’s sister Mandy glanced up from their stitches when Jethro approached and smiled as if they were happy to see him. Mary Anne ignored him completely, though she’d seen him coming for sure and certain.
“Hallo, Jethro,” Mandy said. “It’s a wonderful nice day for quilting. Have you ever seen such a beautiful quilt top? Mary Anne made it.”
Jethro had no interest in quilt tops, not when chairs were disappearing from his house and Mary Anne was painting everything that stood still. He had to be a man.
“Do you want to join us?” Felty said. “I’m threading needles because I’ve got the strongest trifocals money can buy.”
Lily Helmuth was trying to quilt and bounce a baby on her lap at the same time. “Wie gehts, Jethro? Did you have a nice day at work?”
“Gute enough,” he said, knowing no one really cared what kind of day he’d had at work, especially not Mary Anne. She didn’t even care that her husband was starving or that he’d been saving that two hundred dollars for something special.
Lia, Moses Zimmerman’s wife, was a tall brunette who seemed to have more than her share of gute sense. Jethro used to like her until she had shown up for one of Mary Anne’s quilting parties last week. She looked a little embarrassed that she had come to help Mary Anne defy her husband. “Denki for letting us have a quilting frolic in your backyard. I hope we’re not making too much noise.”
Anna tugged at her thread. “Jethro doesn’t care if we’re out here. Do you, Jethro?”
Jethro cleared his throat. He wasn’t going to pretend that everything was pies and cakes. “Of course I care. I want Mary Anne to stop this nonsense and come home.” Should he mention the part about hell?
Mandy stretched a smile across her face. “But Mary Anne loves to camp.”
Lily nodded and hid her smile behind her baby’s head. “I’ve never seen anyone take to camping the way Mary Anne has.”
Mary Anne’s lips curled into an involuntary smile, as if amused by some private joke. Maybe they were secretly sharing a laugh about the stolen kitchen chairs. Probably they were making fun of him.
He knew what they were up to, and he refused to let them think they’d pulled one over on him. “I want my chairs back.”
All hands stilled and all eyes turned in his direction, even Mary Anne’s.
“Your chairs?” Anna said, her brows drawn together in concern. “Are they missing?”
“Mary Anne stole them.”
Mary Anne suddenly became very intent on her quilting. Mandy pressed her lips into a hard line, and Lia lowered her eyes and stabbed her needle into the fabric.
Anna stiffened her spine. “Mary Anne doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body. Who is she supposed to have stolen them from?”
Jethro growled. “From me. She climbed through my window and took them from my kitchen. There are only two left.”
Anna didn’t seem to understand how serious this was—how serious all of it was. “Ach, are you having folks for dinner? I haven’t taught you how to cook anything yet.”
Jethro tried to remain calm. Besides Norman Coblenz, none of Mary Anne’s relatives were on his side. Was there any way to make them see reason? “I’m not having anyone for dinner. I want my chairs back. I can’t live in an empty house.”
“Your house is far from empty,” Anna said, as cheerfully as if she was talking about an upcoming party. “You have two wonderful nice beds I am very envious of.”
Jethro clenched his teeth. “Until Mary Anne steals them.”
Mandy looked as if she were on the verge of laughing out loud. “Why would she steal them when she has such a nice cot to sleep on?”
It was too much to bear. “A nice, hundred-dollar cot I bought for fishing trips, not for Mary Anne’s temper tantrums.”
Mary Anne hunkered down in her chair and attacked the quilt with her needle. Maybe her conscience nagged at her. Gute. Lord willing, she would realize how deerich, foolish, she was being. Jethro had just about had all he could take. Maybe she could see she’d pushed him too far. Maybe she could sense he was determined to be a strong and capable leader in their family.
Mandy seemed to be having fun at his expense. Her expression set his teeth on edge. “You’re not going to take our chairs, are you, Jethro? How will we help Mary Anne get her quilt done without chairs?”
Anna nodded. “They’re not only your chairs. They belong to both of you. I remember your onkel Perry gave you the set as a wedding present.”
“Maybe you should take some tape and a pen and label all the things in the house that are yours,” Mandy said. It sounded more like she was taunting him than giving him a suggestion.
“It’s all mine,” Jethro said, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. Onkel Perry had given them both the dining set on their wedding day. The dishes had come from Mammi Zook. Mary Anne had brought several pillowcases and three blankets to the marriage. Still, he was the one who earned the money. He was the head of the household. Everything belonged to him as part of his stewardship.
Mandy pursed her lips as if she’d taken a hearty bite of a lemon. “So, the husband and wife become one flesh, but the bank account is all yours. Is that what you think?”
Everyone but Mary Anne stared at him as if he had a bad smell hanging about him—and he hadn’t done a single thing to deserve it.
Mary Anne finally spoke. “I’ll return your chairs as soon as I can buy my own.” She didn’t sound at all sorry she’d stolen his chairs. She didn’t sound sorry for anything.
“Ach,” Mandy protested. “You don’t need to buy chairs, Mary Anne. I can spare two from my kitchen.”
“I’ve got three folding chairs I can bring over,” Lily said.
Lia smoothed her hand along the quilt top and shot Jethro a conciliatory smile. “You can always find old chairs at yard sales, Mary Anne. It would be another way to make money if you painted and sold them.”
Jethro huffed out a breath. “I’ll never get my chairs back, or my money.” He hoped the same couldn’t be said about his fraa.
Mandy smiled so Jethro could see all her teeth. “You’ll get your money back. Mary Anne found a job.”
Mary Anne slowly raised her head and gave him a hesitant smile. “I’ll be able to pay you back.”
Jethro felt as if he’d stumbled backward even while he was standing still. Why had he mentioned the money? It wasn’t about the money, and surely Mary Anne knew that. It wasn’t about how many chairs she could buy at a yard sale or the fancy waders at the sporting goods store. Mary Anne’s poverty was the only thing keeping her in his woods. “Who . . . who gave you a job?” He’d pay a visit to them tonight and have a little talk. Everyone in the community should know not to encourage Mary Anne’s nonsense.
“It’s at a little senior center in Shawano.”
Mary Anne desperately wanted to earn some money, but he’d never thought she’d be brave enough to work out. There was no one in the community to blame for this.
He couldn’t forbid her to work for an Englischer—she had made it very clear she didn’t care what he thought—but he could still stand firm and keep her from taking the job. “You’ll have to tell them nae because you don’t have any way to get there. You’ve taken my chairs, but you can’t take my buggy.” Jethro felt the unkindness of it before it was even out of his mouth, but it had to be done. He refused to lose Mary Anne.
She gazed at him, her eyelid twitching slightly like it always did when she was angry. “Your buggy is safe. Someone is going to pick me up three days a week. Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, starting tomorrow.” She bloomed into a smile, as if she hadn’t just shattered his already upended world. “It’s wunderbarr. I’ll get to help them do crafts and make quilts, and they’ll
give me a ride.”
“We’re going with her tomorrow,” Anna said. “It’s free for anyone over sixty-five.”
Mandy gave Mary Anne’s hand a squeeze. “It’s just what you were looking for.”
“It’s wonderful gute they’re going to pay you to do what you love,” Lily said.
“Jah.” Mary Anne seemed to forget Jethro was even there. Her smile was dazzling, like a sunrise over the lake. She was still the prettiest woman Jethro had ever known, even if he was mad at her. She reached out and patted Anna’s arm. “Ach, Mammi, I’ve never been happier.”
Jethro felt as if he’d been hit squarely between the eyes with a baseball. She’d never been happier? Not even on their wedding day? Not even when he made that cradle for the baby and surprised her with it on her birthday? Not even when he’d told her he loved her for the first time, and she’d twirled around the room like a leaf dancing in the wind?
She was living in a tent in the middle of the woods, stealing furniture from the house where she used to live, barely scraping by on Jethro’s two hundred dollars, and she had never been happier?
Jethro thought he might be sick. Had she been pretending all these years? Had she deceived him into believing something that wasn’t really there? His insides felt like a shack in a tornado. He had to get out of there or he was going to lose every shred of dignity he had left. Turning his back on all of them, he stomped to the house, being careful not to plow into the very large dog and the small children playing in his backyard.
It was time to stand firm and refuse to let Mary Anne stomp all over his life and his heart.
He was finally going to be a man.
Chapter Nine
“Mary Anne, dear,” Mammi said, holding up a pair of scissors. “Where would you like me to put these?”
“In that drawer over there, Mammi. Denki.”
“No need to thank me. Felty and I had the time of our lives today. Didn’t we, Felty?”
“Yes, we did.” Dawdi swept the floor—which he didn’t need to do—but he liked being helpful more than anything else in the world. Mary Anne couldn’t say no to that. He and one of the seniors who came to the center had spent nearly two hours today playing checkers. He’d definitely had a gute time.
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