by Adina Senft
They turned in at the Lehman drive. “No more now,” Ruth said. “But I am glad. Maybe we will see something of him this autumn. I hear one of the Esh girls will be the first bride of this year, and we will be into wedding season before we know it.”
They talked of weddings and who might be going to which service between the Gmee in Whinburg and the one in Willow Creek, and when they reached the house, they found Henry and Rafe waiting for them. Once again, Ruth led her guests back to the compiling room.
“As it says in your book, you’ll want to use the sap to make an olive oil–based salve,” she told Sarah. “I’d add calendula petals and lavender as an antimicrobial, both particularly good for the skin. And you might think about including a little vitamin E oil, too, as a preservative and to promote healing.”
Sarah nodded. “I have all those on hand. I made sure to plant lots of calendula flowers all around the garden, and now I’m glad. I use the petals a lot, and the plants are hardy.”
“Latex gloves,” Ruth mused as she wrapped the thawing poplar buds so that they formed a packet that looked like a Christmas cracker. “I’ve never seen such an acute reaction as yours, Henry—not that I’ve seen a lot of cases. Most of our people don’t work in situations where the gloves are necessary, except maybe for the girls cooking in the restaurants.” She gazed at Henry as she handed Sarah the packet. “I hope this works for you. If it doesn’t, you may need to see an Englisch doctor.”
“Thanks, I will,” he said, handing her a few bills in payment. “But so far Sarah’s cures have worked.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Let me know in either case, so I can add the information to my journal. And now I must get these cookies finished. We are invited to Amelia and Eli’s this evening, and our little Elam sure loves my peanut butter and jam thumbprint cookies.”
Sarah smiled as they took their leave. That had been Simon’s favorite cookie, too, as a boy—and still was. Rafe wasted no time in getting them over the twelve miles back to Willow Creek—but the men would still be a few minutes late for breakfast.
“I’ll mix up the salve today and bring it over,” she said to Henry as he took her place in the passenger seat of the car. “If you’re not home, I’ll leave it on the kitchen table.”
“Thanks, Sarah,” was all he said, and absently at that. He was probably looking forward to his breakfast with his intended. Which was just as it should be.
She must concentrate on doing what he had asked of her as an herbalist, nothing more. God must take care of the rest, because one thing was for sure—she didn’t have the strength.
* * *
Dear Silas,
Thank you for your letter, which Amanda brought over the other day. I hope you’ll write down our address so my in-laws won’t need to be my delivery service.
I was just over at Isaac Lehman’s—you remember his wife Ruth, the Dokterfraa. I’m treating a man with a pretty severe case of dry skin compounded by a latex allergy, and fortunately, she had what I needed to help with a cure. When I was a child I used to wonder why God made so very many kinds of plants and trees and insects and animals. Now I’m glad He did—because it seems I need more and more kinds of cures the longer I practice this humble form of medicine.
I hope you are well, and that you have decided to do something with your fields despite the fact that the cell tower brings in enough to live on and more. God meant for us to be close to the earth so we would be reminded of His creation and our place in it. Tomorrow my place is in my garden, digging up the last of the potatoes and onions and getting them into the cellar.
Give my regards to Zeke and Fannie when you see them. I very much enjoyed their visit in the summer.
Your friend,
Sarah Yoder
Chapter 12
On Friday, while she went about her work cleaning the rooms at the Rose Arbor Inn, Priscilla watched the weather anxiously. Dan and Malinda Kanagy had invited the Youngie over to their place for a get-together, and if the weather stayed clear, they’d have the very last volleyball game of the year outside. In some districts, where maybe the weather didn’t cooperate so well, local fathers might actually make arrangements with a high school for the Youngie to play in their gym, but since Willow Creek didn’t have a high school or even a rec center, volleyball became a seasonal thing, like ice skating.
Well, even if it rained or snowed, they’d still have fun playing board games or even team games inside in the big room downstairs where church was held. Pris’s favorite was the relay race where teams of eight stood in a line, boy-girl-boy-girl, and each boy had to put a pillowcase on a pillow. His female partner took it off and passed it down the line to the next boy. She always had to laugh at how many boys were really good at pillowcases—and how inventive they could be sometimes when they weren’t.
And speaking of pillowcases, she had plenty to do right here at the Inn in that department. While technically the Mainwarings weren’t paying guests, Ginny still wanted Pris and Katie Schrock to do their rooms as neatly as if they were. Tomorrow Ginny was going back with her family to Philadelphia to find a wedding dress, and since there were no guests booked, the Inn would be closed until she got back on Tuesday.
Ginny’s father was an early riser, but her mother and sister luxuriated in being able to sleep in on the comfortable beds. So when they got up at last and went down to breakfast, Priscilla would slip in, make the beds and tidy up, and then do the bathrooms after they’d gone to do whatever wedding business they had planned for the day. Ginny had said with a laugh that they were giving Whinburg more business than it had seen in a while—though Pris knew for a fact that the more liberal Mennonite brides got their flowers from the Whinburg florist and their cakes from the bakery there, too.
When she’d finished for the day, Pris stuck her head into the front parlor, where Rafe was reading the local paper. “Good-bye,” she said shyly. “Have a safe trip home tomorrow.”
He got to his feet, as if she were someone important, and came over to shake hands. “Thank you for all you’ve done for us, Priscilla. My wife is going to expect this kind of service at home now—and I’m not nearly as good at it as you are.”
She laughed at the idea of this man, so kind and dignified, on his knees in front of a toilet, scrubbing. “I will see you at the wedding, then, on the twelfth of December.”
“You will, God willing.”
Still smiling, she let herself out and went through the rose arbor for which the Inn was named, now a tangle of brown stems and yellowed leaves. There was a buggy in the parking lot. Goodness. Had Joe—
“Hey, Pris.” Simon levered himself off the white pickets of the fence, and grinned. “Surprised you.”
He certainly had. Her mouth hung open so far that if it had been summer, flies probably would have flown in. “What are you doing here?” she finally managed when he looked as though he was trying not to laugh at her expression.
“I thought you might like a ride home.”
“Simon Yoder, I’ve been working here since April and not once have you offered me a ride home—or even thought of it.”
“I thought about it plenty when I was out in Colorado.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean a thing.”
“So? Ja or neh?”
For a moment, she was tempted. It was a couple of miles, and if she got home early, she’d have a little extra time to get ready for tonight. On the other hand, it would be just her luck if one of the Bylers was driving in the other direction and the news got back to Joe that she was out riding with another boy.
Of course they were all friends, but still. It would look bad.
“Neh, I’m fine walking home. The maples in the creek bed are gorgeous right now—it’s a treat to go home that way.”
To her surprise, he merely nodded, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. Which made her a little ashamed of herself. Just how proud was she that she’d automatically assumed he was there because he wanted to give Joe so
me competition?
“Going to the Kanagys’ tonight?” he asked as he climbed into the buggy.
“Ja, it sounds like fun. Rosanne says all the Youngie from hereabouts are going, and they’re expecting some of the Blackbirds from over Strasburg way, too.”
Simon grinned. “They’d better expect some competition from us Woodpeckers, then, if they set up the nets. Looks like we might get to play, doesn’t it? Not a cloud in the sky.”
It did indeed. As Priscilla walked home along the creek, the skies stayed clear, a vibrant blue against which the yellow and scarlet of the maples and poplars stood out in sharp, burning relief.
She had to shake her head at herself. Six months ago, she would have died of happiness if Simon had asked to take her home. But now? Sure, she’d had a tiny moment of indecision, but really, there was only one thing she could have said, and Simon should have known it. She hoped he’d get work soon, and turn his mind to more profitable things. Maybe there’d be a nice girl among the Blackbirds who would catch his eye, and Pris could stop feeling so jumpy in her spirit whenever she saw him.
Joe came and picked her up right after the supper dishes were done—so promptly that Mamm offered to finish drying so Pris could run upstairs and get her coat. Once they were clip-clopping down the road, Joe transferred both reins into his right hand and squeezed her fingers with his left. “On the way home, I wonder if I could talk something over with you.”
It was the same distance home as it was going over. Why not talk now? “Sure. What is it?”
“Nothing I want to get started on now, but after…I been thinking about some stuff and wanted your opinion. So don’t go letting other fellows drive you home, okay?”
Had someone seen Simon at the Inn and thought she’d got into his buggy with him? “I didn’t go home with Simon this afternoon, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
Joe slanted her a look. “Simon?”
“Ja, he was waiting for me after work and offered me a ride. But I said I’d rather walk, even though I could have used the extra time.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?” Joe sounded sincerely curious, like maybe he wouldn’t mind if she had.
“It wouldn’t look right.”
“Huh.” And that was all he said, but he held her hand all the way to Willow Creek Road, where he had to use both hands on the reins to make the turn.
Rosanne was as glad to see her as if they hadn’t been together practically all day at the Amish Market the previous weekend. “Come and help me with the food—I don’t know how many people will come, but Malinda says we should prepare for lots. Did you hear a bunch of Blackbirds are coming?” Rosanne looked almost as if she was nervous about it.
“Ja, but what’s wrong with that? Are they fast?”
“Faster than us Woodpeckers, but not as bad as that bunch that Jake Byler got tangled up with. You know, with the car incident. I mean, some of those boys actually own their own cars and have licenses and everything.”
“They’ll have to give them up when they join church,” Pris pointed out.
“I know, but in the meantime they’re just putting a great big temptation in the way of boys like Jake. Oh look, there’s Amanda Yoder. My word, she never comes to anything. I wonder what brought her out tonight?”
“Bird-watching?” Priscilla joked as Malinda greeted Amanda and immediately made the other girl comfortable by asking for her help scooping the onion dip out of a big mixing bowl and into smaller bowls that could be spread around the big room downstairs.
After the snacks were laid out and board games set up for those who didn’t want to play volleyball, Pris followed Rosanne outside to the lawn, where the game had already started despite the fact that not everyone was there yet. But it would be dark soon, and a little too chilly for all but the hardiest to play very well, so that made sense. Most of the boys had already formed teams—and here came a buggy full of Blackbirds, who spilled out almost before the horse came to a stop.
Amid raucous greetings from those who knew them and introductions for those who didn’t, Joe called to Pris, “Come on and join in! We have two spots left on our side but they’ll be gone quick.”
“Not me.” Rosanne shook her head. “You guys spike the ball too hard.”
“I will,” Pris said. “Come on, it’s the last game of the season.”
“Can I join?” asked a quiet voice, and Pris turned to see Amanda at her shoulder.
It took a second to get her mouth working through her surprise. One, Amanda hardly ever came to the young people’s doings. And two, she was well over twenty-one and, to Pris’s knowledge, had never done things in groups with boys, or actually had a date. The courage it must have taken to say those few simple words was staggering.
“Take my spot and welcome,” Rosanne said. “I’m happy to cheer from the sidelines until it’s time to eat.”
“Hurry up before those Blackbirds beat you to it!” Joe said.
It felt good that he wanted her on his team. Pris and Amanda dashed over and filled the fourth and fifth places at the net—right where she liked to be. That meant, though, that Amanda would be up next to serve. And since three Blackbirds—two older boys and a girl about Pris’s age—had just filled up the other team, would Amanda be a good server?
Not that it mattered. They played for fun, not to win. But still…
Their team took the first point and then lost the ball on Simon’s second serve. The opposing team got three points so easily that Joe said, “We’re just warming up. Watch out, now, here comes our star server.”
He was so nice. Amanda smiled at him the way she would at a little brother, and tossed the ball off her fingertips to test its firmness.
Then her eyes narrowed as she measured the distance between the ball poised on her left palm and a spot on the other side of the net. Smack! The ball sailed exactly an inch over the net—the other team thought it had touched—no one leaped—and it fell right in the middle, between the two rows of players.
Right about where Amanda had been looking.
“Two serving five,” she said quietly.
By the time they’d evened up the score, the Blackbird boys were beginning to get wise. And a little more serious about where that ball was going. When one of them got under her low-flyer, she changed it up and dropped it just this side of the line Rosanne’s father had staked with string. “Eight serving five.”
“Where were you all summer?” Simon wondered aloud from the side of the court.
Amanda flubbed the serve and it bounced off the net, but on the other team’s serve, Pris spiked the incoming ball and then it was her turn to serve. She only got two points, but by then the other team were too far behind to catch up, and the home side won.
They played two more games before it got too cold, and by the last one, the other team was requesting that Amanda join their side to make it more fair. Flushed and smiling, Amanda went in to supper looking much happier than when she’d arrived.
At the table, Pris and Rosanne found themselves next to Malinda, Amanda, and the taller of the Blackbird boys, whose name turned out to be Jesse Riehl. Joe and Simon sat opposite, and even Jake had come in, though he wasn’t sitting with his twin. Not that it was any of her business, but Pris couldn’t help noticing that Jesse spent most of the time talking to Amanda—though he was as interested as any of them in Simon’s and Joe’s stories of their adventures in Colorado. Later, during the games, Amanda wound up on his team for at least half of them. Well, good for her. Maybe Jesse was a year or so younger than she was, and maybe he lived a fair distance away and she might not see him again for weeks, but at least Amanda was having fun.
When Pris’s brother Chris came in later, he found her in the kitchen helping Malinda and Rosanne and their Mamm finish up the dishes. “I’m going, Pris, if you want a ride.”
If Joe hadn’t said something earlier, Pris might well have hopped in the buggy and gone home with her brother. But she was buzzing with anticipa
tion of what Joe’s news could be, and nothing was going to get in the way of her hearing it. “Joe’s taking me. See you at home.”
Of course, they had to run the gauntlet of a whole lot of good-natured teasing from the Kanagys and the others as she climbed into Joe’s buggy, which looked as shiny and new as it had the last time she’d been in it. And she was pretty sure she was still the only girl to have sat here, too.
She’d gone home from church last week with her family, so this was really the first time they’d been together in public since he’d come home…which meant it was the first time the Youngie had had a chance to rib them and make jokes about open versus closed buggies as they drove away. “Never mind them,” Joe said comfortably as he shook the reins over the horse’s back and they rolled out of the Kanagys’ lane. “They just wish they were us.”
Pris expected him to drive slowly so they could talk, but to her surprise, he kept the horse at a normal trot until they came to the dirt farm track that entered Henry Byler’s fallow field. This was the field where the infamous band hop had happened last spring and caught the grass on fire—the one she and Joe had helped to put out. It was only by dint of Henry’s kindness that they hadn’t been in as much trouble as Jake had been over that car incident, and in one way, it had been a blessing. Dat had found her the job at the Rose Arbor Inn in what he’d thought of as punishment, but it hadn’t turned out that way. Now she chose to be there—and enjoyed it, too.
“Henry’s going to let me and Jake lease this field for soybeans next year,” he said. The buggy bumped across the fallow field and then Joe let the reins go slack so the horse could graze while they talked. “We’ll let it sit this winter, and then turn it over come February.”
When he fell silent, she could contain herself no longer. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
He chuckled as he took her hand, finding it in the dark without even fumbling. “Kept you in suspense, did I?”
