by Leslie Gould
I sank down onto my bed. The morning breeze floating in through the open French doors brushed against my face, causing me to shiver.
I’d been the compliant child all these years, doing everything my parents asked. No wonder they expected me to marry Phillip without questioning them. But now I knew I couldn’t. I would have never dreamed it possible to come to love someone in one day, but I had. I loved Jonathan.
I’d always been so practical. So obedient. So pragmatic. It wasn’t like me, I knew, to stand up to my father. Or fall in Lieb in a day.
No wonder my parents didn’t know how to react.
Perhaps if I explained how I felt to them, told them I’d been wrong to go along with the idea of courting Phillip when I wasn’t sure, all along, if I loved him.
There was a shout followed by Daed yelling, “Joe-Joe!”
Then the scraping of more chairs against the floor. My guess was my youngest brother had toppled over his milk.
I could make out muffled sobs, then Mutter’s sharp response of “Stop that. Now.”
I cringed.
Aenti Nell’s soothing tones came next. I held my breath. A few minutes later footsteps fell across the kitchen floor and then the back door slammed. I stepped to the French doors and peered through a pane. Daed marched across the lawn to the barn, his shoulders hunched and his stride long. A moment later Danny followed, but as soon as he reached the middle of the yard he turned toward my bedroom and held up his hand, as if in despair.
That was my dependable brother—loyal as possible under the circumstances.
I leaned forward and mouthed, “Things will work out.” I wasn’t sure if he could read my lips or not but he nodded his head and headed toward the barn.
Retreating to my bed, I couldn’t imagine it would be long until Mutter sent Aenti Nell up to retrieve me. The kitchen needed cleaning. And I had to do the laundry, a chore that no one but me tackled anymore. I should have already put the work clothes to soak, but I hadn’t gotten it done before breakfast. If it didn’t get started soon, the chore would drag on until suppertime.
I needed to finish it all today because Mutter, Aenti Nell, and I planned to go to a frolic at Aenti Pauline’s the next day to finish a quilt she would sell at a local shop. Her quilts were beautiful, although not quite as amazing as Aenti Nell’s. Still she earned a fair amount of money for them. Being a Mamm didn’t leave her a lot of time for handwork though, so having help made all the difference for her. My maternal grandmother, who lived in the Dawdi Haus behind Aenti Pauline’s, would be home from her visiting and would be there too. We were taking sticky buns. Surely Mutter would release me to make those.
Once they let me out of my room, I’d humble myself and ask their forgiveness for going behind their backs. I’d tell them I felt bad about the whole thing with Phillip, that all along I wasn’t sure he was the right one but I’d hoped I’d come to love him, but now I knew I never would.
I’d tell them I had feelings for Jonathan and that he and I both, more than anything, wanted the grudge between our families to end. But for that to happen we needed to know what it was all about. Maybe Aenti Nell could help me make Mutter and Daed understand. Surely my parents wanted what was best for me.
My stomach growled. I stretched out on my bed, wishing I’d eaten a piece of ham while I was cooking.
Closing my eyes, I heard the creak of the stairs.
A moment later there was a loud knock.
“Who is it?” I rose to a sitting position, expecting Aenti Nell.
Timothy’s diabolical laugh came through the door. “Learned your lesson?” He snorted. “You’ll never be allowed to court a Mosier. They’ll have you married off to Phillip before Christmas.”
My head landed back on my pillow as his footsteps fell back down the hall. A few minutes later the back door slammed again.
I must have dozed, because I awoke to Joe-Joe and Billy’s voices outside my door.
“Mamm said not to,” Billy said.
My doorknob turned.
“But I want to,” Joe-Joe answered.
Billy must have pulled Joe-Joe’s hand away. “Come on,” Billy said. “She’ll be out later. When she’s ready to do a better job listening to Daed.”
My heart broke a little bit at Billy parroting what Mutter, most likely, had said.
“Addie,” Joe-Joe wailed.
Billy’s voice was firm. “Come on!” Clearly he had taken charge.
After a scuffle across the wood floor, they left too.
It wasn’t until midmorning that Aenti Nell opened my door, waking me again. “Come on,” she said. “I need help or I’m never going to get the wash done.”
“Did Mutter send you?”
“Jah,” she answered. “Your Daed said it was all right.”
“Will they listen to me?”
“Ach, Addie. Don’t bother. There’s no way this grudge is going to end by you pleading with them. We’ll have to figure out another way.”
I scrambled to my feet. “Jah, about that grudge. Tell me how it started.”
“Later.” She sashayed back out the door, the back of her kerchief bobbing up and down. “Come on. I’m buried in your work, and your Mamm’s done nothing but cry all morning.”
I flooded the wringer washer in the basement. Then after getting the whites started, I accidently splashed bleach on a good dress of Mutter’s, one that still fit. And by the time I had the first load on the line, it was past time to start scrubbing the potatoes for lunch.
We ended up eating late, which didn’t escape Daed’s notice. “Ach, Addie,” he said, “I thought pigs would fly before you’d be tardy with a meal.”
I kept my face stoic and unresponsive, but inside I frowned. He couldn’t send me to my room for the morning and expect me to get my work done.
The meat was dry, the potatoes undercooked, and I’d forgotten to add butter to the green beans, the way Daed liked them, but thankfully, he didn’t say another word.
Near midafternoon, I took the whites from the line, folding each item and dropping it in the basket as I did, putting off going back into the house as long as I could. I breathed in the warmth of the sun and the sharpness of the bleach still lingering on the fabric, thinking of Jonathan as I did. Despite the frustration of the morning, remembering the night before made me smile.
I turned toward the willow tree and thought of Jonathan kissing my cheek. Holding a worn pillowcase in my hand, the last item off the line, I pulled it to my face, pressing the crisp fabric against my skin. I felt freshly laundered too as an odd mixture of both hope and satisfaction, as real as the lingering scent of bleach, filled my soul.
Jonathan and I were meant to be together.
A pinecone landed in the laundry basket, startling me.
“Daydreaming?” Timothy stood between me and the barn.
I folded the pillowcase, even though it needed to be ironed, and dropped it in the basket. “No,” I retorted. “I’m working. How about you?” I didn’t wait for him to respond but, leaving the pinecone, picked up the basket and marched to the house.
Mutter managed to iron the small items at the table, while I manned the board and finished up the sheets. She cried a little more, including over her dress I’d ruined.
After I put everything away, Mutter sat in the living room, her feet up on the couch. I’d asked her several times to sort through the stack of Budgets, the national Plain newspaper, and the back issues of The Connection magazine we subscribed to and that she tended to save, but since she hadn’t for the last couple of months, not even when tidying up for the barbecue, I doubted she would today.
Aenti Nell said she planned to quilt for an hour or so, and I followed her into the sewing room, asking her to tell me the story about the grudge. “In a minute,” she said. “First let me give you something to work on.”
It wasn’t until she’d given me the pieces of a block to stitch together that I remembered the money Jonathan had given me. I pulled it out
of my apron and extended it to her. “Here,” I said. “Don’t tell Timothy, but Jonathan gave me back the money I paid him for the mantel.”
She cocked her head to the side, the back of her kerchief dangling at an odd angle. “Why?”
“He said he fixed it.”
She held up her hand. “Well, well,” she said. “He’s a gentleman. I’m not surprised.”
“Take it,” I said.
“No, you keep it. Those were old potholders. I probably wouldn’t have sold them anyway.”
I gave her a questioning look.
She shrugged. “Think of it as my gift to you in these trying times.” Her mouth turned downward.
She settled into her chair and picked up another stack of pieces.
“Tell me,” I said.
She glanced toward the open door and lowered her voice. “They want you to marry Phillip more than anything else in the world right now.”
“You were going to tell me about the grudge.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said ‘later.’”
Maybe I needed to warm her up to the idea. I told her my intention to humble myself and apologize to Mutter and Daed and then explain my feelings for Jonathan.
“I can’t marry Phillip.” My voice was firm.
“I know,” she said, her voice tender. “But don’t tell your parents that yet. I told them this morning that I thought you’d get over Jonathan.”
I began to shake my head as I opened my mouth to speak.
She held up her finger to shush me. “I said he’s not your type. That your feelings won’t last more than another day or so.”
I gasped, “That’s not true.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“To slow them down. To free you from your room. To give you more time to figure all this out. So don’t go telling them how you really feel about Phillip—not yet.”
I was surprised she would deceive my parents for me but grateful that she’d intervened. I leaned forward. “Will you help me?”
“I don’t know if there’s much I can do. . . .”
“You can start by telling me what the feud is all about.”
“Feud.” She tilted her head. “That’s a strong word.”
“And accurate.”
She sighed and then stood and closed the door. “Just in case your Mamm’s hearing is better than I think.”
When she sat back down she turned her chair toward me. “Don’t tell your Mamm or your Dat what I’m going to tell you.”
I nodded in agreement. I wasn’t in the habit of talking deeply with my parents. I couldn’t imagine not being able to keep Aenti Nell’s secret.
She took a deep breath, as if to build her courage, and then said, “When your Mamm was your age she courted Jonathan’s father—Dirk.”
I gasped.
She took a raggedy breath. “Actually, there’s a story before that but I’m not going to share it . . . and one after it.”
“Aenti Nell?” I said, puzzled even more.
She ignored me. “The families back then were from the same district, and the households were very much alike. Both full of fun and laughter. The children were well disciplined. The grown-ups, hard workers.” She paused. “And Dirk and your Dat were the very best of friends, straight from the cradle.”
I could scarcely believe what she was saying. “Oh . . . goodness.”
“Exactly. And they stayed that way, day in and day out. Dirk is the one who gave your Dat the nickname Cap. And it stuck.”
My father’s given name was David, but I’d never heard anyone call him that.
“We all thought your Mamm and Dirk would marry—but then they quit courting. Laurel wouldn’t tell us why. A few people speculated but no one seemed to know for sure.” Aenti Nell stopped for a moment and rubbed her temple. “Then Cap started taking Laurel home from singings.”
“Oh . . . and that made Dirk mad?”
Aenti Nell shook her head. “No, that was the funny thing. Dirk seemed fine with it. He and Cap stayed best friends. All seemed well.”
“So what happened?”
“Laurel started receiving anonymous letters. The first one said that Cap was trouble and she shouldn’t be courting him. The second said she’d be miserable if she married him. They went on and on, probably five at least. Finally she showed Cap. He was certain the handwriting was Dirk’s.”
“Was it?”
“It seems so. Everyone thought so. But he denied it.” Her eyes drifted toward the window.
I waited for her to continue.
Finally she did. “Dirk had quite the temper, and he exploded one night after a party.” She paused again.
“Were you there?”
“Jah.” She sighed.
“What happened?”
“Dirk said horrible things to your Mamm and then left for Big Valley the next day. He came back a couple of times but didn’t have any further contact with your parents. He didn’t come to their wedding. He didn’t try to patch things up with your Daed.”
“When did he marry?”
“Several years after your parents did. Mary is her name.” She sat up a little straighter. “But that’s neither here nor there. What’s important is what Dirk said after Cap confronted him at the party.”
“Which was?”
“That your mother was a she-devil and would destroy the entire community if she wasn’t stopped. He said the worst year of his life was when he was courting her and that your father was a bigger fool than he’d ever suspected and would live in misery if he married her. Then Dirk stormed off.”
I had to agree that Mutter was a bit of a manipulator, but what Dirk said seemed over-the-top harsh. No wonder Mutter and Daed were angry with him.
“The thing was,” Aenti Nell said, “his words seemed to draw your Mamm and Daed even closer. They married three months later.”
I wrinkled my nose. “And that started the problem between the two families?”
“Jah. Not between the Mosiers and the Cramers so much, not back then. Old man Mosier and your Dat’s parents all continued on with their friendship, which made your parents angry. But my parents, well, my mother in particular, was very offended and couldn’t let it go.”
I could see that. My grandmother, Gladys Yoder, did tend to hold a grudge, and probably without intending to, encouraged her daughters to also. Although Aenti Nell didn’t seem to. Not even against the Mosiers.
“Then your Dat’s father died and then his mother too, and Dirk’s Dat became more lost in his own world.”
I wasn’t as concerned about the oldest generation. “Does Mutter still have the letters?”
Aenti Nell blanched. “I wouldn’t think so. I can’t think of why she would have kept them.”
I raised my eyebrows. “She keeps everything.”
“She wouldn’t have kept those.” Nell shook her head as she spoke.
I wasn’t so sure.
“She wouldn’t need to. She let the memory of them fester all these years,” Aenti Nell added. “That’s what’s kept the whole thing going.”
“But Onkel Bob seemed to want to patch things—he invited our family and Mervin and Martin’s family to dinner—remember? Just over a year ago?” Aenti Nell hadn’t gone.
“Jah, Bob and the twins’ Dat, Amos, are friends. And the twins worked for Bob. Did your Mamm and Dat behave themselves that day?”
I nodded.
“Well, Amos is quite a bit older than Dirk. And he was never as hotheaded. But now Timothy’s all worked up and only making things worse.”
I sat forward in my chair. I needed to get the dough started for the sticky buns for the next day’s frolic. But I had one more question first. “What should we do?”
“Don’t try to meet him tonight.”
I swallowed hard, not sure I could do that.
“Addie, listen to me. Your parents will know if you go out. And they won’t assume it�
�s with Phillip. I’ll send Danny on a buggy ride with a message—in a sealed envelope—over to the Mosiers, telling Jonathan not to come.”
“If you think it’s for the best . . .” Danny was the only one we could trust.
Aenti Nell gazed beyond me again, out the window. “And then how about if I visit Jonathan’s grandfather before the frolic tomorrow? Bring up the relationship he had with your grandfather? See if he can talk to Dirk?”
“All right.” I wasn’t sure if it would help or not, but I didn’t see how it could hurt.
Foolish me.
CHAPTER
7
Aenti Pauline’s kitchen was the biggest in the county, I was sure. New cabinets and counters lined the room, and the white linoleum floor sparkled in the morning light coming through the wall of windows at the far end. The quilting frame stood in the center, with all of us women seated around it in perfectly matched chairs. My Onkel had done quite well for himself and his family raising horses.
My cousins had pushed the table to the end of the room. The sticky buns I’d made and a bowl of blueberries were set out for a morning snack. A pot of coffee simmered on the stove.
Mammi Gladys, the matriarch of my Mutter’s clan, was taking a break for the moment, a cup in her hand, watching the rest of us. She wore a black dress and apron. She’d always been tiny, but lately she seemed to be shrinking. However, she was one of those small women whose presence grew more powerful with every year. The older I grew, the more I realized the influence she carried over her daughters.
She had no sons.
And those daughters all had only daughters, except for Aenti Nell, who had never married, and my Mutter. Ours was the only “boy” family.
Mutter, Aenti Pauline, and Aenti Nell all lived in Lancaster County. My two other Aentis had both married and moved away, one to Ohio and the other to Indiana.
My grandfather had died two years before, and my grandmother still dressed in mourning attire, which seemed oppressively hot, especially on a mid-July day that promised to be a scorcher.
Once I learned English, I thought it odd my grandmother’s name was Gladys. She was anything but glad. Quite the opposite, in fact.
