Adoring Addie

by Leslie Gould

  I grabbed my basket from the back and started toward the boys.

  “Go put the kittens back,” I said. “They need their Mamms.”

  Joe-Joe frowned.

  “And then come in the house for some lemonade. It’s so hot—you probably need a drink, jah?” I added.

  He smiled at that and followed Billy toward the barn.

  As I rounded the corner, Mutter called out for me from the back steps.

  Then Daed stepped out of the cow corral. At six and a half feet he was a near giant of a man, solid through and through. A fringe of gray hair showed under his hat and his matching beard flowed down his chest to his belly. “You’re late,” he said to Timothy. “Come finish the milking.” Then he called out to Billy. “Get back in there and help Danny.”

  In no time, the little boys hustled back from returning the kittens, and Joe-Joe took my hand, pulling me toward the Haus as Billy obeyed Daed and skipped off to the barn.

  “Sure you don’t want to go with me later?” Timothy called out to me.

  I ignored him.

  “Where you going?” Daed asked Timothy as he reached the barn door.

  “Out,” Timothy answered. “Later.”

  I pulled away from Joe-Joe and told him to go ahead. “He’s looking to pick a fight with the Mosiers,” I said to Daed as I held the basket in front of me.

  Daed looked from Timothy to me and then back to Timothy. He shook his head. “No fighting, son—you hear? Sure, some things can’t be fixed, but you let those be. You understand?”

  I glared at Timothy. “Like a mantel?”

  He shot me an angry look.

  “What’s this all about?” Daed took a step toward Timothy.

  “He broke a mantel Jonathan Mosier made. I gave all the money I made today to Martin and Mervin to help pay for it.”

  His bushy eyebrows shot up. “Jonathan Mosier . . . Would that be Dirk’s son?” It was as if Daed hadn’t heard the last part of what I’d said.

  I shrugged. “He’s Martin and Mervin’s cousin.”

  Daed took a deep breath. “Did you pay for it, son?”

  Timothy’s eyes narrowed.

  “I just told you, I did,” I answered. “Although I’m sure I didn’t pay enough.”

  “Pay her back,” Daed ordered.

  Timothy nodded, with no trace of his earlier bravado.

  “Addie, come here,” Mutter called out. Joe-Joe was beside her now, trying to hold her hand.

  As I approached, she whispered, “What were you telling your father?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Her voice grew louder as she spoke. “You were talking about the Mosiers. Did those twins do something?”

  “No.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go.”

  “It’s nothing to do with me. Honest.” I passed her, shifting the basket to the side and taking Joe-Joe’s outstretched hand, pulling him alongside me into the Haus.

  I sniffed, but all I could smell was the lemon scent of the polish I’d put on the wood floors the day before. Aenti Nell hadn’t started dinner. I stopped in the middle of the kitchen, sliding the basket onto the tabletop. There was leftover chicken from the night before, unless they’d eaten it for lunch.

  “Addie.” Mutter limped through the back door. “What’s going on?”

  “Dinner,” I answered. “That’s what’s going on—or not.” I’d so looked forward to a break from cooking that I couldn’t stop the disappointment in my voice. I opened the refrigerator. The chicken was gone.

  Mutter sat down in her chair.

  Aenti Nell cleared her throat from where she stood in the doorway to the quilting room. “I lost track of time.”

  “I see.” I placed my hand atop my Kapp, as if the gesture might keep my emotions in check. Clearly it was time for me to take charge.

  Mutter picked up a pair of pants, stabbing her needle into the fabric. “The Mansleit will need to eat soon.”

  The menfolk would eat when the food was ready.

  I’d put two pounds of cooked hamburger into the freezer the day before, so I could make a quick spaghetti sauce. I poured Joe-Joe a glass of lemonade and then told him, as he downed it, “Go get me four jars of tomatoes—one at a time—and an onion from the cellar.”

  He drained his glass, handed it to me, and started toward the basement door. “After you do that I’ll tell you what to pick from the garden.”

  We had lettuce, spinach, and radishes ready to use, and I’d baked bread the day before.

  Aenti Nell picked up the basket. “How many potholders did you sell?” she asked as I pulled the sealed bag of hamburger from the freezer.

  “Nearly all,” I said. I motioned for her to come closer to me, and as I turned toward the sink, lowered my voice so Mutter wouldn’t hear. I explained briefly what happened as I plopped the plastic bag of hamburger in the sink and ran warm water over it to defrost it.

  “Ach, Addie, that’s a shame,” she said. “For you.” She shook her head. “That Timothy. I hate to see this grudge get passed down to the next generation.”

  She seemed genuinely sad.

  “Jah,” I said. “It’s a sorry predicament.”

  She nodded, a wary expression I hadn’t seen before settling on her face.

  I lowered my voice even more. “So what is this grudge all about anyway?”

  Aenti glanced toward Mutter, a worried look on her face, and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.”

  I nodded and said, in a regular voice, hoping to cheer her, “I saw Molly.”

  “Oh.” Aenti Nell brightened. “Any news?”

  “Nothing you don’t already know.”

  My Aenti smiled.

  “You should see Molly’s rosemary though. It’s the best I’ve ever seen. She sold out of nearly everything except for her parsley and sage. I meant to bring some home.” We grew herbs but they weren’t nearly as robust as Molly’s. “Hannah had sold almost all of her jars of jam when I left.”

  I gathered the pots and pans I needed for the sauce and pasta as I talked. Daed wasn’t fond of spaghetti and salad—he said it barely filled him up—but it was the best I could do on such short notice.

  Joe-Joe came up the basement stairs with the tomatoes, one jar at a time, and then the onion, making a special trip just for it. I asked Aenti Nell to chop it. She took the remaining potholders into the sewing room and then returned to help me.

  I handed Joe-Joe the garden basket, and he headed outside. I started the sauce and told Aenti Nell about the food at the market and then put the water on to boil for the spaghetti. Next I set the table around Mutter as I told Aenti Nell about the jam Hannah had made.

  I stopped at the sound of heavy footsteps on the back steps. The men, I presumed, were early.

  The door swung open, and Billy stepped through first, a grin on his face. Behind him was Phillip Eicher.

  Mutter perked up at the sight of him. She started to stand, but he quickly told her there was no need.

  “Won’t you stay for supper?” she gushed.

  I stood statue still, watching Phillip. He’d changed into a clean white shirt and pants. And shoes instead of boots. He held his straw hat in his hands, and his bangs fell in a perfect line across his forehead.

  “Denki,” Phillip answered, looking at me. “I’m happy to stay, but I’ll go out and help finish up the milking.” Molly and Hannah were right—he was a good catch. I could do much worse.

  “Oh, stay here,” Mutter replied. “Cap has plenty of hands out there.” Then she paused and added, “Unless you want to speak with him about something.”

  Phillip smiled. “When he has the time.”

  My face grew warm. Usually, in our community, the young man didn’t speak with the girl’s father before he’d spoken with her. Perhaps he planned to speak to me tonight.

  I spun back toward the sink. The odd sensation lodged below my heart and pushed upward.

  I turned my attention back to dinner. Now t
hat we had company, I would need to come up with a dessert, but I didn’t have time to make anything before we ate. I decided to pilfer a plate of cookies from the dozens I’d made for tomorrow.

  Phillip sat down on the other side of the table, where he could watch me. “I drove by the farm on the way here.” He hooked his thumbs around his suspenders. “The sunflowers along the fence are already as big as dinner plates. And the corn is up to my shoulders, I’m sure. . . .” He hadn’t been much of a talker before, but that seemed to have changed.

  Now it seemed as if he couldn’t stop.

  It was the first time Phillip had ever stayed for dinner. He was the youngest of ten, so although meals with his family used to be a big event, for the last few years it had just been him and his parents. I couldn’t imagine his mother, even when her table was full, putting up with any nonsense from her children.

  Meals at our house were far from orderly. It wasn’t that my Mutter purposefully put up with the nonsense—she just didn’t know how to stop it. And although I did my best, I couldn’t seem to rein the boys in either, at least not entirely.

  Before Daed had a chance to lead us in our silent prayer, Billy dumped his pocket of rocks onto the table. Daed sent him outside with his collection until the prayer was finished.

  Billy ate silently when he came back, and for a moment all was calm, but then Timothy started in about the Mosier boys. Phillip gave me a questioning look. I shrugged in return.

  “Addie is too friendly with them,” Timothy said, looking at Mutter. “You shouldn’t allow her around them anymore.”

  “You’re the one who invited me to the party tonight,” I shot back. “Don’t you think they’ll be there?” I’d never been so contentious before, not in front of my parents anyway—and certainly not in front of company.

  “Addie!” Mutter said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going. I’m just pointing out that Timothy isn’t making any sense.”

  “Of course you’re not going.” Mutter had her gaze on Phillip now. “She never goes to those things.”

  Under my breath, I whispered, “Obviously what’s good for the gander isn’t for the goose.”

  “You don’t go to those parties either, do you, Phillip?” Mutter asked.

  He squared his shoulders. “Not anymore.”

  “How about you?” Timothy said to Danny. “Are you going with me?”

  Danny placed his fork on his empty plate—he’d inhaled his dinner in record time—and looked up but didn’t speak. He pushed his straw-colored hair back from his forehead, showing the streak of white where the brim of his hat kept the sun from his face. Having recently turned sixteen, he was just entering his Rumschpringe. He was the quietest of my Bruders and the most reliable. I thought of him as Danny the Dependable.

  Finally, as he glanced from our father to our mother, he said, “Jah.”

  “That’s fine,” Mutter answered. “As long as you’re up first thing in the morning.”

  “Don’t go,” I said to Danny. “Stay home and help me get ready for tomorrow.”

  He wrinkled his freckled nose and said, softly, “I’ll get up early, I promise, and do whatever you need.”

  Joe-Joe nudged me, a grin on his face. “I’ll help,” he said, and then began twirling his spaghetti on his fork, sending sauce splattering in all directions.

  “Stop,” I said.

  I’m certain he meant to obey, but instead he lost his grip on his fork, sending it clattering to the floor. He scooted down and, dropping to his knees, reached under his chair.

  A moment later, he chirped, “Oops!”

  That got my attention.

  “Got it!” he said.

  Thinking he meant the fork, I expected him back on his chair, but one glance his way and I saw he was still rooting around on the floor, grabbing at a plastic container.

  “Oops!” he exclaimed again.

  A frog jumped onto his chair. Joe-Joe’s head popped up as Billy scrambled to the floor, nearly knocking over his chair.

  I lunged for the frog, but it slipped between my hands onto the table.

  “What’s going on?” Mutter squealed.

  I didn’t bother answering her. It was obvious to all.

  The frog leapt again, this time into the quarter-full bowl of spaghetti sauce. Timothy began to laugh as Joe-Joe lunged forward, his hands landing in the bowl. Somehow he managed to grab the frog. He pulled out a tomato-red blob, a triumphant expression on his face, until a half second later the frog managed to wiggle away again.

  Billy scurried around the table, most likely to rescue the frog, but I grabbed at it again and somehow managed to hold on this time. Billy bobbled the plastic container from the floor, I plunked the frog into it, and Billy secured the lid, full of good-sized holes.

  “Go set it free,” I said.

  Billy nodded, his face solemn.

  “No,” Joe-Joe wailed.

  “Don’t you want it to live?” I asked.

  “Jah. With me,” he answered, tears filling his eyes.

  I shook my head. “God didn’t make frogs to live in our Haus.”

  Billy headed toward the back door, and seemingly resigned, Joe-Joe wiped his hands across his face, painting his skin with sauce, and started to sit back on his chair.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I ordered. “Straight to the bathtub.”

  As he left the table, I looked around at the others. Timothy was still laughing, although quietly now. Aenti Nell nodded in approval. Phillip frowned, his forehead wrinkled under his dark hair.

  “It’s usually not like this at mealtime. Is it, Addie.” Mutter glanced from Phillip to me.

  I shrugged. It usually was.

  Daed continued shoveling spaghetti into his mouth as if nothing had happened.

  Mother turned back toward Phillip. “Tell us about the farm you’re hoping to buy.”

  Timothy groaned and Danny asked to be excused as Phillip directed his attention to my Mutter, beginning his description with the barn.

  I pushed back my chair.

  “I’ll do the dishes. You take care of Joe-Joe,” Aenti Nell said.

  “Denki.”

  As I headed down the hall, Phillip kept talking.

  A half hour later, when I returned with a pajama-clad Joe-Joe at my side, all my Bruders—and Phillip—were gone.

  Certain he was out talking to Daed, a wave of panic overtook me. Light-headed, I leaned against the table.

  “What is the matter?” Mutter asked from her place at the table.

  I stammered. “Where . . . where’s Phillip?”

  Aenti Nell turned from the sink.

  “He said he’d see you tomorrow,” Mutter said. “He’s off to help his Daed move some hay before dark, so he didn’t have a chance to talk with your Daed either.”

  Relief washed over me as I exhaled slowly. “I need to talk with Daed tonight.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I think maybe Phillip thinks I’ve agreed to something that I haven’t—not yet anyway. . . .” My words trailed off as the look of horror on Mutter’s face grew.

  “Adelaide Cramer,” Mutter barked, “don’t you even think of rejecting that nice young man. You will never, ever find a more suitable husband.”

  Aenti Nell stepped from the sink toward us, holding her wet hands in the air, and said, “Schwester . . .”

  “Stay out of this,” Mutter snapped at her. “We don’t let you live here to meddle in our business.”

  Horrified, I called out, “Mutter!” Aenti Nell didn’t deserve such treatment.

  “Don’t you get sassy!”

  “Addie,” my Aenti whispered, “your mother’s right. It isn’t my business. I shouldn’t have—” She turned back toward the sink.

  Mutter shifted in her chair and asked me, “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

  “I need more time is all . . .” The odd feeling beneath my heart expanded.

  “I know what you want. A husband. A home.
Children. What every woman wants.”

  “Jah,” I said. She was absolutely right. “I’m just not sure how to know for sure who that husband should be.”

  “I haven’t seen any other suitors coming around.” She spread her arms wide. “Have you?”

  I was only eighteen—well, nineteen in less than two weeks. And sure, I’d been anxious to marry and have a place of my own, but . . . what was the rush?

  My mother’s voice softened. “Addie, it’s normal to question these things. But that’s what making a commitment is all about. It’s a decision.” She motioned for me to come sit beside her, and I obeyed. Now she was whispering. “Believe me, you don’t want to end up like Nell. Life would have been much easier for her—and all of us—if she’d married years ago. Instead—”

  “Laurel.” Aenti Nell spun around from the sink. “Don’t.”

  My mother stared at her sister for a long moment, and then, with Aenti Nell still watching us, widened her eyes and nodded at me, as if my aunt’s reaction proved Mutter’s point.

  But I had no idea what, exactly, she meant. I stood and began putting the food away, telling Joe-Joe to go brush his teeth.

  “Billy needs to get to bed too,” Mutter said.

  “Jah,” I answered. And then I needed to clean the bathroom so it would be usable tomorrow and clean the kitchen and sweep after Aenti Nell finished the dishes. In the morning I’d need to fix breakfast, make the coleslaw, bake the rolls, and marinate the chicken Daed would barbecue later in the day. Then slice the watermelon and make the date pudding. Maybe Mutter had been right—maybe I shouldn’t have gone to the market. Maybe I should have stayed home and worked.

  Joe-Joe took my hand, turning his face up toward mine, showing the sprinkling of freckles across his nose. “Will you read me a story?”

  I was tempted to say no because of all I had to do, but honestly, putting Joe-Joe to bed was one of my favorite parts of the day.

  “Jah,” I answered. “Go pick one out.” He scurried into the living room straight to the basket from the bookmobile while I stepped outside to call Billy into the house.

  Mutter was wrong. Phillip hadn’t left. He and Daed, with Billy running circles around them, were standing in the driveway next to Phillip’s buggy, deep in conversation. My heart raced until Daed pointed to the field of corn and I realized they were talking about the crops.