by Ruth Reid
“Ach, dear,” Rebecca said. “We did catch you at a bad time.”
“Nay, believe me, I can use a break.” She nudged the mop bucket out of the way with her foot. “I think it’s going to take multiple cleanings before I’m able to get all the layers of soot off the floor.”
Lindie started to chuckle, but suppressed it when Ellen snorted. Lindie should’ve suspected Ellen did more than Josiah’s laundry. She must have done his housecleaning too.
“I didn’t mean to sound as though Josiah lived in a pigsty. It’s just that . . . there’s been so much snow lately. The floors get muddy.”
Rebecca laughed. “You think it’s bad nau, wait until spring when everything starts to melt.”
“Would you like some kaffi or tea?”
“Nett for me.” Ada tapped her belly. “The boppli kicks more when I have caffeine. But a glass of water would be nice.”
“I’d love a cup of tea.” Rebecca elbowed Ellen, who was still eyeing the room. “You want a cup too, jah?”
Lindie followed Ellen’s gaze to the rolled-up rug wedged against the bench. The place did look out of order with the furniture bunched together on one side of the room.
“Jah, sure. A cup sounds gut,” Ellen said, bringing her full attention back to Lindie. “You didn’t bring many belongings with you from Ohio, did you?”
“I arrived by bus.” Lindie didn’t want to discuss that this was still very much Caroline’s home. The household items from her hope chest remained in the boxes. She hadn’t wanted to upset Josiah by making any more changes.
“I almost forgot,” Ada said, extending a small basket. “We brought you some cookies and two loaves of zucchini bread.”
“That’s very thoughtful, denki.” Lindie smiled. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on.”
At least the kitchen wasn’t askew. She’d mopped the floor earlier and the table and chairs were back in their proper places. Lindie led the way, although she was certain they were familiar with the layout of Josiah’s house.
“Please, have a seat.” She slid the lid off the cast-iron kettle and peeked inside at the water level. Not enough. That would have been disastrous had she put a dry kettle on the stove. She was trying hard to make a good impression on her first visitors.
Lindie filled the kettle to the brim with tap water. Her hands shook under the weight of the full kettle. It clanged against the stove when she set it down.
“Is there something you need us to do?” Rebecca started to stand.
“Nay, please don’t get up.” Lindie didn’t want anyone to think she was incapable of preparing tea. Though it did seem like she was forgetting something. The stovetop gave off plenty of heat and before she’d mopped earlier she’d loaded the stove with wood, but she decided to check the fire anyway. When she opened the side of the firebox, a blast of heat warmed her face. Extra kindling wasn’t necessary; the bed of embers glowed.
“This shouldn’t take too long to heat.” Lindie wiped her hands on her apron. What else? Cups. She opened the cupboard but found plates. Who moved the dishes this time?
“Let me help,” Ellen said. “I know how Caroline arranged her kitchen.” But she didn’t. Ellen opened the next cabinet and found bowls.
Lindie searched for tea bags. Since her arrival, she hadn’t drunk anything but coffee. And come to think of it, Josiah only drank coffee.
“We’re having a sewing frolic on Saturday at mei haus. I hope you’ll join us,” Ada said. “We’re going to sew some boppli clothes.”
Gladness spread through Lindie. “I’d love to kumm. What time?”
“From ten to two. I can pick you up,” Rebecca said.
“Denki.” Lindie moved a few items around on the pantry shelf, but still didn’t find the tea.
“The boppli is pushing hard against mei bladder. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Of course.” Lindie walked Ada to the hallway. “It’s the first door on the left.”
Rebecca spoke the moment Lindie reentered the room. “I looked for you on Sunday so we could visit, but heard that you and Josiah had already gone home. Perhaps the two of you will kumm for supper one evening.”
Lindie smiled. “I’d like that.” In her district, families would often visit with one another during the week.
Ellen set the cups on the counter. “Are you sure Josiah has tea bags? I ask because he doesn’t drink tea. Caroline didn’t either.”
Lindie closed the pantry door and stifled a smart response. Boiling water erupted from the kettle spout and sizzled on the stove’s surface. As she removed the kettle from the hot spot and placed it on the back of the stove, Lindie caught sight of the dish Josiah had brought home with apple crisp. She picked up the clean glassware and faced Ellen. “I think this is your dish.”
Ada entered the kitchen. “How’s Hannah doing? I poked mei head in her bedroom to say hello and she wasn’t there.”
“She wasn’t?” Lindie gasped. “I, uh . . . I—”
The women stood. “We understand.”
Nay, she doubted they understood how upset Josiah would be. She rushed out of the room, the women following. But before she reached the door, it opened.
Josiah and Hannah entered, his hand resting on her slumped shoulder.
Lindie froze. Aware the women had flanked her, she silently prayed he wouldn’t reprimand her in front of them. She searched his face. No sign of tension. He didn’t appear upset. Still, he was probably waiting for the company to leave before mentioning anything. She hadn’t done her job—again.
Hannah squatted down and removed her shoes, then padded down the hall toward the bedrooms.
“It was gut visiting with you.” Ada made her way out the door.
Lindie smiled. “Jah, I hope we can do it again. Next time I’ll make sure we have some tea.”
While the others walked toward the buggy, Rebecca paused. “Josiah, I was telling Lindie that Gideon and I would like to have you two over for supper one nacht next week.”
He smiled. “Sure. We would like that.”
“Gut.” Rebecca gave Lindie’s hand a squeeze. “It was gut talking with you. I’ll plan to pick you and Hannah up for the sewing frolic.”
Lindie shouldn’t have committed herself to attend the get-together until she had spoken with Josiah. She briefly glanced his way.
“I think you’ll have a gut time,” Josiah said. “What day is it?”
“Saturday,” Rebecca answered. “We’re sewing clothes for the boppli.”
Josiah’s jaw dropped.
Chapter Thirteen
Josiah’s heart pounded at an irregular rhythm and his insides knotted. He followed Lindie into the kitchen. “They’re planning a sewing frolic for the boppli?”
“Jah, the women planned a get-together.” Lindie grabbed a pot holder from the drawer and removed the kettle from the stove. She motioned to the basket on the table without looking at him. “They brought cookies and zucchini bread.”
Her vagueness upped his blood pressure. “Rebecca said it was for the boppli. You told them about your boppli?”
“It’s for Ada’s boppli.”
“Ach.” He didn’t think people fussed over a second, or in Ada’s case, a fourth child. Usually the family already had enough baby clothes from their other children.
Coffee cups clanged together as Lindie scooped them from the counter.
“Why are you putting those away?”
“They’re clean.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Did you offer them kaffi?” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, facing her. Something was wrong. “They changed their minds?”
She shrugged.
“You wouldn’t have put the kettle on unless you’d offered and they’d accepted.” Had Ellen said something to upset her? Caroline never had any issues with the others. They were all friends. Still, the families had all arrived at the same time to start this district; they might have formed a t
ighter bond than usual. Surely they would eventually accept Lindie.
Everyone wanted this district to grow. It had been several days since he returned Ellen’s dish, but she had given him the impression she wanted to get to know his new wife. Then again, she had practically chased Lindie to the outhouse with questions last Sunday.
“I’ll have supper ready shortly.” She removed a frying pan from the bottom cabinet.
The downturned corners of her mouth tugged at his heart. “Will you tell me why you’re upset?”
Lindie scooped a spoonful of lard from the tin container and chunked it into the pan. She pushed the melting lard around with the spatula, coating the bottom of the skillet.
How could he help her if she refused to talk? He sidled up beside her. “What can I do?”
“I have everything under control.” The cracker-coated pork chops sizzled as she lowered them into the grease.
He should have come into the house sooner. He might have been able to defuse Ellen. “What can I do to make you happy?”
“You can get out of the kitchen. Go read the paper.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”
“Rebecca’s offer to pick you up for the sewing frolic was nice. You’ll have more time to get acquainted, don’t you think?”
She mumbled something under her breath, indecipherable over the snap of hot grease.
He grabbed the lid from under the cabinet and covered the frying pan.
“You can’t put a lid on everything,” she muttered.
He looked at her, then the pork chops, and then back to her. “What are you talking about?”
“That doesn’t stop the pork chops from burning.” She pulled off the lid, jammed a fork into the pork, and flipped it over.
Her being upset had nothing to do with the meal. Then again, Caroline had never wanted him underfoot while she was trying to cook either. “If you need something . . .”
“I’ll call you if I do.” She opened the upper cabinet, removed a plate, and set it on the counter.
He leaned against the door frame and watched her slice the loaf of bread.
She furrowed her brows at him. “Am I making the slices too thin?”
“Nay.”
“Too thick?”
He shook his head.
“Why are you still staring at me, then?” She finished the final slice and set the bread on the plate.
“When you reached for the plate, I guess I expected you to say something about me moving the dishes.”
She faced him, knife in hand. “I looked like a fool nett knowing where anything was.”
“I’m sorry.” He watched the tip of the knife blade wag and knew enough not to step any closer. “I shouldn’t have told you to move the dishes back. This is your kitchen.”
“I felt like it was Ellen’s. She pointed out how you don’t drink tea—after I searched the pantry. I looked foolish offering them a cup of tea, and more so when I had to hunt for where you kept your cups.”
He’d been the foolish one not realizing how important a kitchen was to a woman. He never should have objected to her reorganizing things. “What else are you upset about?”
She tossed the knife on the counter and planted her fisted hands on her hips. “I saw your expression when you thought the women had found out about the boppli.”
“I’m sorry. I panicked.” Josiah crossed the distance between them. “Forgive me.” He’d never meant to hurt her. He only wished to save her some heartache from people questioning the circumstances prior to their marriage.
She forced a smile. “I returned Ellen’s apple crisp dish. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why should I mind?”
She shrugged. Her mouth quivered and she turned toward the sink. “You made a point to return her last one,” she said calmly.
“I did so I could tell her I no longer needed her to do laundry or clean. She sent that apple crisp over to wilkom you. I guess I forgot to tell you.” He eased closer to Lindie. “Ellen helped me after Caroline died. I paid her to do the laundry and clean the haus. I couldn’t keep a business running if I had to do everything. Did you think there was something between Ellen and me?”
She half shrugged with one shoulder and bowed her head.
“There wasn’t. Nor would there have ever been.” Nothing he said changed Lindie’s expression. “Did Ellen say something that indicated otherwise?”
She didn’t respond.
His hands turned clammy and he wiped them along the seam of his pants. “Ellen has made some comments in the past about us both losing our spouses and that maybe we should think about . . . Well, she more or less hinted about marriage.” He looked down at the floor. “I never considered it. I told her I—”
“Could give her your name, but not your heart?” Her sharp tone tore at his heart.
“Nay,” he said. “I told her I didn’t want to remarry. That was the truth.”
Her jaw twitched as she concentrated on putting the butter and a jar of chutney on the table. “Mei bruder convinced you to marry me.”
“Partly.”
She paused and turned a careful eye on him.
He shrugged. “There was something about your answer the day at the bus station when I asked you if you wanted to go home. You sounded . . . hopeless.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he lifted his finger to stop her. “I was too.”
He might never become the same husband he was to Caroline. But how could he make things up to Lindie? Talking about Ellen or their marriage agreement wasn’t going to help matters.
He cleared his throat. “I found Hannah’s drawing pad. You were right. Her picture looked identical to the birch trees out back.”
Lindie’s eyes brightened a little. “I think the deer in the drawing was the injured one she laid her hand on.”
Lindie had mentioned Hannah healing the deer before, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. He also wasn’t sure how useful artwork was to an Amish girl’s future. Even so, he would rather talk about art than marriage.
“You asked what would make me happy, jah?”
“Jah,” he said cautiously. He’d seen that twinkle in Caroline’s eyes the time when she wanted a wringer washer.
“I want to buy her some colored pencils, if they aren’t too expensive.”
“Why? She has crayons.” He had wanted to give Lindie something that would make her feel special. Hannah already spent so much time drawing that she had practically withdrawn from everything else.
Her shoulders slumped.
“Okay.” He smiled. “If it’ll make the pretty maydel happy.”
Her eyes lit up and drew him like a magnet. Beautiful. He liked how a few strands of her copper-colored hair had sneaked out from under her kapp and framed her face.
“Denki. Hannah will be happy.”
He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing the side of her cheek. “I was talking about you.”
A soft pink glow spread over her face. Even her earlobe was dusted in blush. Who would’ve thought colored pencils would make her this happy? He would drive to the store tonight if it were open.
The back door opened and a moment later Simon poked his head into the kitchen.
She sidestepped Josiah. “I better check the meat.”
“I, uh . . .” He swiped the newspaper off the counter. “Simon and I will get out of your kitchen and go read the paper.” He hoped he could find something to read that would take his mind off her.
Lindie gathered her sewing bag and the dessert she made for the frolic when Rebecca’s buggy pulled into the yard. Not wanting to keep her waiting, she motioned to the cape on the wall, but Hannah only stared. Without Josiah close by, Lindie wasn’t sure if Hannah would mind her today, and for a second, she considered canceling. But Hannah needed to get out of the house and be with other children, and Lindie was desperate to form new friendships. She set the dish and sewing bag down, grabbed the cape, and helped Hannah into it. Cli
mbing into Rebecca’s buggy, Lindie whispered a prayer that things would go well.
“I’m so happy you could join us today,” Rebecca said.
“Jah, I am too.” She motioned to the dish. “I made a pumpkin spice cake.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to try it.” Rebecca turned the horse out of the driveway. “Ada doesn’t live too far.” She elbowed Hannah seated between them. “Lucy will be there.”
Hannah smiled.
“Lucy is mei youngest niece,” she told Lindie. “She’s just getting over the chicken pox. That’s why she and mei little sister, Martha, were nett able to make the service last Sunday.”
“That’s gut she will have someone to play with.”
“There will be more children, but Hannah and Lucy are especially close since they are near the same age.” Rebecca spoke to Hannah. “You and Lucy have fun together, isn’t that right?”
Hannah nodded.
Lindie was pleased since she rarely received anything but a blank stare when she spoke to Hannah. Obviously, the girl had no problems reading lips.
It wasn’t long before they pulled up to a two-story farmhouse. The white clapboard house had dark-green shutters and empty flower boxes under the windows. Lindie pictured how beautiful the house would look in the summertime with flowers in bloom. She looked forward to spring and putting in a garden. Maybe she would plant pansies along the walkway. Lindie had always liked the deep violet ones that Margaret had planted in her own flower bed.
“Lindie, so gut to see you,” Ada said, ushering them into her house.
Lindie set the cake on the kitchen counter with the other goodies as the children welcomed Hannah and coaxed her into another room to play. Although the gathering was small compared to the ones in Middlefield, maybe fifteen including the children, it looked as though all the women in the district were in attendance.
Ada led Rebecca and Lindie into the sitting room where several other women were already busy with their hoops and needles. Lindie found a chair and pulled out her sewing supplies.
