by Ruth Reid
“I should have blueberries next week. Hopefully raspberries at the end of the month,” he volunteered.
“I’ll take ten pounds of each to start.” Irma wiped her hands on a rag after handling the vegetables. Her gaze swept the counter. “Did you bring the invoice for the cherries?”
“The slip is in mei buggy. I’ll go get it.” He strode to the back door. Irma was usually more talkative. She always made a point to ask about his mother and his mammi. Sometimes she kept him there to talk about the swarms of bugs destroying the crops or to offer him food. Irma wasn’t making the shooing motion with her hands, but she wasn’t trying to coax him into having a bowl of ice cream either.
He stepped outside, and the midday heat enveloped him. At least his horse, Bay, was in the shade of the maple and within proximity of the watering trough. The skittish three-year-old gelding lifted his head and neighed as Gideon approached. “Easy, boy.” He stroked Bay’s neck until he calmed down, then grabbed the slip of paper with the price of the cherries and plodded across the gravel parking lot. Irma was one of his best customers, buying whatever fruit was in season throughout the summer and multiple bushels of apples in the fall.
The screen door creaked and Faith stepped outside. “I wrapped your burger and fries in wax paper for you to take with you.” She held out a brown paper bag.
“Danki.” He’d planned to scarf down the last few bites before he left, but taking it to go was even better. “Will you give your mamm this?” He handed her the slip of paper.
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “What were you going to say about Olivia?”
Nothing he could blurt out in a parking lot. “What time do you get off work?”
Chapter 4
The potato peel curled around Faith’s hand as she worked the knife, her mind filled with thoughts of Gideon. Had he not mentioned that he wanted to talk about Olivia, she might have jumped to the wrong conclusion after he asked what time her shift ended. But Faith handled her disappointment by maintaining her practiced, neutral expression.
She pushed the thoughts of Gideon to the back of her mind and concentrated on a new cherry recipe. “Mamm, what if we put cherries and rhubarb together instead of making the usual strawberry-rhubarb combination?”
Mamm said nothing as she pressed the hamburger patty with the spatula on the grill. Obviously, her thoughts were elsewhere too.
Faith wrinkled her nose. “I guess it would be too tart, jah, probably nett a gut combination.” She would stick to making a cherry cobbler. “Should I make a pie for the Sunday-afternoon meal?” It wasn’t until Faith cleared her throat that Mamm responded.
“I’m sorry,” Mamm said without looking up. “Did you say something?”
“I wanted to try to make a cherry-rhubarb cobbler. Have you ever tried that combination?”
“Sounds interesting, dear.”
Her mother wasn’t a lackadaisical listener, especially when it came to Faith’s ideas about the menu. Mamm loved to create new recipes and the two of them worked together a lot, developing new desserts for the restaurant, but Mamm hadn’t been herself since she’d come back from running errands. Come to think of it, her only errand had been for vegetables they hadn’t even needed.
“Mamm,” Faith said, eyeing her mother’s slumped shoulders. Last week she’d overheard her parents discussing the struggle to make the restaurant’s steep monthly payments and how they’d overestimated June’s revenue. “Is something wrong? Something you’re nett telling me?”
“Nay, honey.” Mamm pressed the blood out of the beef patty, juices sizzling around the edge, then flipped it over.
Faith set the knife down, gathered the potato shavings, and tossed them into a pail. The pigs would love them mixed in with their usual slop. Faith rounded the island and glanced up at the pending orders hanging on the wire. A single cheeseburger and fries on one ticket. Two dinners of open roast-beef sandwiches and mashed potatoes on another and a sauerkraut and pork chops. “I could finish these if you’d like to take a break.”
Mamm shook her head. “I have everything under control.” But the weariness in her voice suggested otherwise. So did her red-rimmed eyes. “Why don’t you see if Olivia needs help in the dining room?”
Faith glanced at the peeled potatoes waiting to be grated into hash browns, then over to the bucket of cherries that still needed pitting. She’d rather prepare pies and cobbler than wait tables. But something told her that her mother needed a few minutes alone, so she went into the dining room. Olivia was chatting with the locals seated at the coffee-drinkers table as she refilled their cups. Her sister’s friendliness with the Englischers stretched beyond the expected meekness of the Amish ways. Faith scanned the other patrons in the room, her gaze stopping on a man tapping his fingers on the menu while the woman gazed about the restaurant. She’d seen the impatient gesture a time or two. Debating whether to stay or leave. Faith grabbed a pad and pen from the counter and headed for the table. “Good afternoon, my name is Faith. Have you heard about our special today?” The chalkboard displaying the daily specials was well within view, but most new customers didn’t know that yummasetti was a traditional Amish dish.
The man squinted in the board’s direction, reminding Faith that she needed to suggest to Mamm that they have something printed for each table since the Monday-through-Friday specials never changed.
“Yummasetti, green beans, roll, and a slice of shoofly pie.” Faith quoted the board from memory.
The man angled the menu toward Faith and pointed to the barbecued pulled pork sandwich. “I’ll take this on sourdough bread. Is the bread fresh?”
“We bake it every morning.” At 5:30 a.m. to be exact.
The woman seated across from him leaned forward. “What exactly is yummasetti?”
“It’s an egg noodle dish with hamburger, tomato paste, and cheese. It’s very filling,” Faith added, knowing the woman’s interest had faded the moment Faith mentioned noodles. But she asked anyway with a friendly smile, “Would you like to try the special?”
“No, I don’t believe so. I’ll have the Cobb salad, no croutons, and low-fat ranch dressing on the side.” The woman handed Faith her menu. “Also, could we get more iced tea, please?”
“Yes, I’ll bring you more to drink right away.” Faith turned away from the table and caught Olivia glowering at her from behind the waitress station.
“Why did you steal mei table?” Olivia snipped the moment Faith stepped behind the half wall.
Faith placed the menus in the wooden holder. “Just trying to help.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“Jah, I know. Mamm sent me out here.” Faith reached for the pitcher of iced tea, only to have her sister snatch it off the counter.
Olivia’s eyes widened and she looked down at the front of her apron, now tea stained. She set the pitcher down hard on the counter, sloshing tea over the rim. “Don’t laugh,” she snapped, dabbing her dress with a paper napkin. “You have grease splatters on your dress.”
“I’m nett laughing.” If anything, her sister’s outburst and her possessiveness made Faith sad. She tore the ticket off the pad and handed it to Olivia. “Your table requested a tea refill.” Faith would stay out of her sister’s way. She removed the cleaning rag from the bucket of bleach water and wiped the counter next to the coffeepots. Her eyes moistened with tears. She and her sister had never been close. Mamm tried to explain that the reason was the four-year age gap between them, but the truth was, Olivia was kinder to her friends than to her own sister. Faith had prayed for years that things would change, but now she wondered if she and her sister might never become friends.
Faith dropped the rag into the bleach water, then wiped her tears with the back of her hands, not thinking to wash off the residue first. Her eyes instantly began to burn and water more. Blinking didn’t relieve the sting. Faith covered her eyes with her hand and went into the kitchen, blindly feeling her way over to the sink where she turned o
n the cold-water tap. She cupped handfuls of water and tossed them at her face repeatedly.
“Faith?” Mamm placed her hand on Faith’s shoulder, leaned closer. “Did you get something in your eyes?”
“Bleach,” she said, continuing to rinse her eyes.
“Is there anything I can do, honey?”
“Nay, they’re feeling better.” Faith blinked a few times, but the irritation persisted. She should have been more careful.
Olivia breezed into the kitchen. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She got bleach in her eyes,” Mamm said. “Grab that dish towel on the counter so Faith can dry her face on it, please.”
“Sure. Do you want this?” She waved the order ticket.
Mamm took the paper and looked it over. “I’ll get this started and be right back,” she told Faith.
Olivia approached Faith with the towel and whispered, “You sure know how to get attention, don’t you?”
Lord, I’m casting all mei cares on You, for You care for me. Faith had recited scriptures more and more lately to combat Olivia’s sharp tongue. She wouldn’t let her sister get under her skin today. She buried her face in the towel and fought the urge to set Olivia straight. Let it go. Mamm had been upset about something not long ago, and Faith wasn’t about to get her upset all over again by seeing them bicker like toddlers. She held the towel against her face until she heard the door swing, then waited a few more seconds before peeking to see if Olivia had indeed left the kitchen.
Mamm tipped Faith’s chin and inspected her closely. “How do your eyes feel?”
“Better.” Or they would once they stopped watering.
“You should go home.” Mamm washed her hands, then went to the refrigerator and removed the items to make the Cobb salad.
“I don’t want to leave you shorthanded. Who’s going to keep up with the dishes?”
“We can handle things. Besides, you were here early to bake bread. It won’t hurt your schweschaler to wash dishes after we close.”
Doing extra kitchen labor would certainly irritate Olivia if it meant not spending time after work with her friends. “I better stay,” Faith said.
Mamm smiled. “You’re so conscientious and mature for your age that sometimes I forget which of mei girls is older.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Nau, off you geh.”
“What about the cherries?” Their restaurant was known for homemade pies and muffins, and the display case out front had a limited selection.
“They can be pitted tomorrow. Nau, please take the rest of the day off. I may need you to cook again on Monday.”
Faith hesitated a moment, then removed her apron. She could guess what Olivia would say tonight once they were alone in their shared bedroom. First she would grumble about having to do Faith’s work, then accuse her of being Mamm’s favorite. According to her sister, Faith always received special treatment, which wasn’t true. The last time Olivia made those accusations, Faith offered to change jobs. But Olivia didn’t want to get up early and make the bread. She also didn’t want to give up her waitressing tips.
Faith took her mother’s advice and started for home on foot in the scorching July heat. She strolled along the sidewalk at an easy pace, gazing in the store windows as she went. Their farm wasn’t too far out of town. On days like today, when she was on foot, she liked to take the North Eastern State Trail, the old Detroit and Mackinac Railway line, which meant no traffic and plenty of wildlife sightings. She could watch the animals for hours, especially when she spotted a herd of deer grazing in the grassy meadow at the edge of the forest or an elk cow and calf nibbling on tree bark in the old apple orchard. Many of the townsfolk believed that during the late 1800s when timber camps were being established in this area, logging men inadvertently started the orchard by discarding apple cores. But today, she chose the crushed limestone path because the creek was one of her favorite places to sit and think. And since Gideon had left the restaurant, she had a lot to think about.
Faith removed her shoes and dipped her feet in the spring-fed creek. The joys of summer. She breathed in the dank scent of moss as she tipped her face upward, soaking in the warmth of the afternoon sun, a sharp contrast to the cold water. For a moment, she forgot about work and Olivia. She felt the breeze against her face, listened to the babbling sound of water and the birds chirping nearby. She loved spending time alone.
“You sure know how to get attention.”
Olivia’s comment earlier invaded Faith’s solitude. Her sister had held a grudge for more years than Faith could remember, longer than she could recall what had even caused Olivia to be upset in the first place. Olivia had no reason to be jealous. Then again, her sister had walked into the kitchen when she and Gideon were teasing each other. No wonder Olivia accused Faith of knowing how to get attention. Now it made sense. And tonight she would be sure to set things right with her sister and ease her mind.
Faith ventured upstream, keeping her eyes on the rocky bottom so she didn’t slip. The midcalf water level was low after an unseasonably dry season. Iron ore and sulfur deposits had tinted the water an amber shade and given it a metallic scent. A few yards upstream, Faith reached the clearing where last spring she had spotted a doe with its speckled fawn. On hot days like today, the deer were probably lying in the tall grassy meadow or roaming the woods scrounging acorns.
As she moved into deeper water, a smallmouth bass nibbled her toes. The tickling sensation made her jump and the splash she produced scattered the fish. A hearty laugh echoed behind her and she spun around, scanning the tree-lined bank. She spotted Gideon, perched on a tree limb that hung low over the water, and called, “What are you doing here?”
“Checking out mei fishing hole.”
She sloshed over to him, the water rising to her knees. “I don’t see a pole.”
He smiled. “This isn’t the best time of day to drop a line.”
“Nett the best spot either.” Unless he wanted to spend most of his time untangling lines from the cattails. She swatted away a dragonfly.
“True.” He removed his boot and tossed it on the ground. “How kalt is the water?”
“Not bad once you’re used to it.” She kicked the surface of the water and splashed him with a few drops.
He tossed his other boot on dry land and jumped off the branch, not bothering to roll up his pant legs. His eyes fostered a determined glint as he moved toward her. “I didn’t think you’d be off work yet.”
“Mamm sent me home early.” She backed up, but not before he cupped his hand and skimmed the surface of the stream, creating a large spray of icy water. She froze. “Hey!”
“You shouldn’t start what you can’t finish.” He sprayed her again, this time soaking her good.
Backing away from him, she tripped over a rock and plunged into the water.
Gideon laughed. “Practicing for your baptism?”
Faith cupped her hands and collected water, then tossed it at him as he tromped closer.
Blocking the shower, he leaned over her and extended his hand. “Let me help you up.”
His playful chuckle gave her cause to hesitate. She squinted up at him, but wasn’t able to see his face under the shadow of his straw hat and with the sun at his back.
Gideon cocked his head. “You’re nett kalt?”
“I’m freezing.” And mostly embarrassed. Swimming with a man, even though they technically weren’t, was strictly forbidden. She should be more mindful of her activities. After all, she’d started taking classes to join the church. If one of the elders saw them together . . .
“Don’t be a fool.” He extended his arm farther. “Take mei hand.”
Faith accepted his help and he lifted her up from the bottom of the creek. The summer breeze sent a chill through her body. Her lips trembled uncontrollably. “I should go.” She turned and traipsed downstream to where she’d left her shoes.
“Why are you getting baptized?”
Puzzled by his question, Fai
th stopped, crossed her arms, and faced him. “Are you questioning mei character?” Prior to the baptism, the bishop asked the church members if they would accept the applicant as brother, or in her case, sister in Christ. She wasn’t sure what happened to those who a member spoke out against. More classes? Faith had already attended three of the nine sessions on the teachings of the Dordrecht Confession of Faith.
“Nay.” He walked closer. “Most people join the church just prior to getting married. Is that . . .”
“What?—Nay!” On the rare occasions that she attended the youth singings, it was to socialize with people her own age, not look for someone to marry. She wouldn’t turn seventeen for another three months. Besides, working six days a week at the restaurant— and long hours at that—put a crimp in courting anyone seriously. That and she happened to be taller than most of the unmarried men and was often overlooked when it came time for the girl to be asked home from a singing.
Gideon’s brows creased.
“Can’t someone get baptized and join the church because they feel led by God? Not everyone needs to get married—why are you asking such personal questions?” She wasn’t sure she liked him being so intrusive. Perhaps Bishop Zook sent him on this inquiring mission. As an applicant for baptism, she was under more scrutiny than others her age who were still on rumspringa. “Are you gathering information?”
“Nay—jah, kinda.”
“You can tell the bishop and elders and whoever else is interested that I’m ready to join the church.” He opened his mouth, but she continued. “I’m young, I know. Others mei age don’t always know what they want. They think they’ll figure it out sowing their wild oats during rumspringa but—” Faith clamped her lips, unable to stop shivering . . . and not because his face formed perfect dimples. “Why are you grinning like that?”
