by Marta Perry
“Your mother or you?”
“Both of us,” she admitted. Hope rose in her chest and she tried not to let it envelop her. Thinking about Eli…about her and Eli and the future was too much. There were too many obstacles, too much that she was unsure of. She didn’t know what she wanted, what God wanted, and what had happened with Eli and that girl.
“I’ll try not to. But for today, let’s just enjoy the picnic and have fun. Please?”
“All right,” she agreed, taking one last look at the pie. She wouldn’t ruin the day. She’d make it right tomorrow. She’d tell him she hadn’t baked the pie. And if Eli came to services, that might change everything. No matter what he’d done wrong back home, if he was truly repentant, he could find forgiveness, couldn’t he? That was the beauty of the faith. God could forgive anything.
Eli held out his plate. “Could I have another chicken leg and some of that potato salad? And maybe some strawberries?”
She laughed and removed two more bowls from the bottom of the basket. “Wait until you see what else is in here,” she said. “You might not want to fill up on sweets yet.”
“I don’t know. My mam always said I had a liking for sweet things.”
Ruth blushed, certain he wasn’t talking about sliced strawberries.
* * *
Early Monday morning, as soon as the kitchen was readied up, the dishes washed and dried and put away and the floors swept, Ruth hurried out to the garden to pick peas and hoe around the kale, spinach and radishes. Miriam would need her after lunch to help in the fields, but if she hurried, she’d have time to run an important errand.
She needed to go to the chair shop and explain to Eli about the pie. She had asked Anna after breakfast why she hadn’t warned her that she exchanged pies, but Anna had only laughed and gone back to skimming cream off a pan of milk and humming the tune from an old hymn. Nothing she said could convince Anna to talk about baking or pies or auctions. Anna was easygoing, but she could be the most stubborn one of all of them.
Eli had kept his word and come to church the day before, but they’d had no time to speak in private. During services, Eli had sat on the men’s side of the room, while she had sat with the women. And since the worship was held at their home, she and Mam and her sisters had been extra busy with serving food and welcoming visitors.
The weather had been so good that the young people had set up long tables in the yard, and the communal meal had been held there. Men ate at the first sitting, and there had barely been time to grab a bite herself and help with the children before the second sermon.
The only contact she’d had with Eli had been when she’d handed him a plate of corn bread and filled his glass with cold milk. But that hadn’t meant that she was unaware of him. He had been watching her all day, and it had made her self-conscious and fearful that she’d drop a bowl of peas and dumplings on the visiting bishop from Ohio or trip and fall facedown into Aunt Martha’s shoofly pie.
After church, there had been visiting and cleanup. Ruth had seen Eli folding tables and chairs and putting them in the special wagon, and she’d seen him helping with the buggies, but all too soon, the day of worship had been over. The family had gone to bed early, tired, but full of peace…all but her. She’d tossed and turned, determined that she had to get the matter of the pie straightened out. Like untangling a knotted ball of yarn, she had to start with one end and work her way through her problems. If she told the truth and cleared her conscience, she might be in a better place to solve the bigger issue of what to do about Eli.
* * *
Eli rubbed his fingertips along a chair leg, feeling for rough spots. When he found one, he carefully sanded the maple with the finest grade of sandpaper until the wood was as smooth as glass. He and Roman had been working in the shop since breakfast. Roman had been gluing chair backs and seats together and applying strapping so that they would dry properly, until Aunt Fannie had appeared in the doorway that led to the display area and called to him.
Eli could tell that his aunt had been out of sorts at breakfast this morning, not angry but worried about something. The way she’d glanced at him out of the corner of her eye made him suspect her fuss had to do with him, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d done to upset her. Both his aunt and his uncle had seemed pleased that he’d gone to the school picnic and to church with them on Sunday, although neither had commented on it.
Spiritual matters were generally considered too private to discuss, even between family members. If and when he joined the Old Amish Church, it would be his decision, and no matter how much his aunt and uncle might want him to accept the faith, that was between him and God.
Now he couldn’t help overhearing as Aunt Fannie said, “This came on Saturday. I thought you should see it first.”
His uncle answered her, but his voice was too soft for Eli to hear what he said. Eli knew that it was wrong to eavesdrop, but he was curious. And the only way to avoid hearing would be to put down his work and leave the shop. Then he’d be forced to explain why he’d walked away from a task. Whatever it was that had upset his aunt, it wasn’t good. If he’d caused a problem for Roman, he wanted to straighten it out. “Ne, it’s your house,” Aunt Fannie protested.
“It’s addressed to Eli. Give it to him.”
“Look at it! That’s her name, isn’t it?”
Eli dropped the sandpaper and stood up, the chair leg still in his hand. He walked toward the front room, but stopped when his uncle walked back into the shop.
“Mail for you.” Roman held out a letter. “Fannie should have given it to you Saturday when you got home from the picnic.”
Eli took the envelope. In the left corner, a name was printed clearly in blue ink. Hazel had written to him, and the return address was a town in Virginia. Shocked, he looked up at Roman.
The older man’s face was creased with concern, but his gaze held no judgment. “It was wrong of Fannie to keep your mail from you. You’ll want to read it in private. The work can wait a few minutes.”
Eli nodded. He took the letter outside into the backyard and sat down on a bale of straw. His heart was beating fast. He hadn’t thought he’d hear from Hazel. He’d worried about her and wondered how she was, but he hadn’t expected this—not after the way they’d parted.
He turned the envelope over in his hand. It couldn’t have weighed more than half an ounce, but it felt as heavy as if it were made of cement. Guilt settled over him, and the events of that night at the bonfire came rushing back to haunt him. Catching his lower lip between his teeth, he slowly opened the letter.
There was a page and a half, printed from a computer. Only the signature was handwritten. He read through it twice and sat there for a while trying to decide what to do. He closed his eyes. The sun was warm on his face, and the air smelled of green growing things. From the yard, he heard the bleat of a goat and the flapping sound of clothes drying on a line. Yesterday, when he was listening to the hymns, he’d felt a peace inside. Now he searched for that quiet peace.
After a quarter of an hour, he rose and went to find Roman.
His uncle had returned to strapping the chair parts so that the glue would dry properly. Eli held out the folded pages of the letter.
“Why should I read that?” Roman concentrated on the buckle he was tightening. “It is your business.”
“Aunt Fannie is right. I live in your house, and I’m part of your family. You should know what it says. Please.” Eli held it out for him and this time Roman took it.
Eli’s uncle went to the bench for his spectacles, blew the sawdust off them, and then wiped them on his blue cotton shirt. He read the letter slowly. When he had finished, he nodded, and handed the letter back. “I see,” he said. “And what will you do about this?”
“I don’t know. Think about it, I guess.”
“And pray,” Roman advised. “It’s always best.”
* * *
Eli was cleaning up his work space when Ruth entered by the ba
ck door. He turned and surprise showed on his face. He smiled. “Ruth.”
“Eli.” She glanced around, hoping Roman wasn’t here. As she’d walked down the road, she’d thought about what she would say, of just how she would explain the confusion about the pie. Now that she was here with him, she felt just as tongue-tied as ever. Her palms felt damp, and it seemed stuffy in the shop. “I need to talk to you. In private.”
“Something I’ve done wrong?”
She shook her head. “Ne. Something I’ve done wrong.”
“Okay.” He led her back outside, around the corner of the shop to Fannie’s grape arbor. There was a wooden bench there, and he waved her to the seat.
“I’d just as soon stand,” she said, feeling more anxious by the moment. She just wanted to get this over with.
He hooked his thumbs into his thin red suspenders and stood arms akimbo, waiting.
Heat flashed under her skin. She stared down at her new black sneakers. She’d been ashamed to walk down the road in bare feet, for fear some English would see her and make fun, but now she felt that that might have been Hochmut—that she might have worn the new shoes to show off for Eli. She twisted her hands in her apron. “I wanted to…”
“What is it, Ruth?”
“The pie,” she blurted. “It wasn’t mine. I didn’t bake it. It was Anna’s.”
He laughed. “Whoever made it, it was good.”
She looked up at him. “Ne, you don’t understand. I let everyone think that it was mine. I took credit for my sister’s baking. I deceived—”
“Wicked,” he agreed, but he was still shaking with amusement.
“This is serious. Stop laughing at me.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Do you think I care who made the pie?”
“You should. You paid for it. And if you’d gotten mine—the one I made, you would—”
“Wait. Let me get this straight.” He dropped onto the high-backed bench and motioned for her to sit beside him. When she didn’t immediately do so, he rolled his eyes. “Sit,” he commanded.
Ruth exhaled softly and obeyed, taking care to keep a distance between them. “I didn’t mean to take credit for Anna’s baking. I made my own pie, but I think Anna switched it.”
“So…it wasn’t your fault? You didn’t know?”
“I knew after we opened the basket. When I saw it. But I didn’t say anything. I let you go on believing that it was mine.” She lowered her gaze. “I think a part of me wanted you to think I could bake a pie that pretty.”
“So now you’ve come to straighten it all out?”
She nodded.
He turned toward her and caught her hands in his. “All right, you’ve told me. Your conscience should be clear. Why didn’t you tell me right away?”
“I don’t know. I was already embarrassed by all the attention. I didn’t want Charley to find out. He would have made everything worse.”
“And this has worried you since the picnic?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed. “I’m an awful pie baker. But I’m an honest person.”
“The most honest I’ve ever known,” he said. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but his big hands held hers tightly.
“Don’t make fun of me. What I did was wrong.”
“Are you sorry?”
“Of course, I am.” She looked at him. “Why would I come here to tell you, if I wasn’t sorry?”
“And you won’t do it again?”
“Never!”
“Then it’s over, Ruth. You’ve nothing more to be ashamed of.”
“I don’t want you to think bad of me.”
“I could never do that.” He slid closer to her. “There’s something—”
“Ruth!”
Ruth’s heart sank as her mother came around the end of the grape arbor.
“What goes on here?” Mam folded her arms over her chest and glared at them. “The two of you have some explaining to do.”
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s not what you think,” Eli said, letting go of Ruth’s hand and getting to his feet.
Mam glared at him. “You don’t know what I think. My daughters aren’t fast girls. You may do things differently in Belleville, but here holding hands is for couples who have publicly stated their intention to marry.”
“We weren’t…” Ruth began.
“I have eyes to see,” Mam said. “Being alone together like this is unseemly.” She paused and continued in a softer voice. “You know that there is already talk about you, Eli. It’s not fair to Ruth for you to endanger her reputation.”
Ruth heard Eli’s temper flare. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
Mam looked back toward the shop. “Samuel’s buggy is in front. It’s best if you come with me, Ruth.”
“It’s the middle of a school day. Why are you even here?” Ruth demanded. Eli was right. They hadn’t done anything wrong. Why did her mother have to assume the worst? And how had she known where to find them? Why was she looking? “Did Anna tell you I was coming to the shop?”
“You mean, am I spying on you?”
Mam’s hazel eyes took on the glint of polished pewter, and Ruth’s heart sank.
“Why would you think such a thing?” Mam’s tone barely masked her hurt feelings. “When have I ever spied on you?”
“It’s my fault,” Eli said. “Don’t blame Ruth. There was a misunderstanding and we were talking and…”
Mam silenced him with a raised palm. “Eli, please. It’s best if Ruth and I discuss this in private.”
“Mam!” she protested. “Don’t make more of this than—”
“The children are on their noon break,” her mother cut in. “Elmer has an abscessed tooth, and Lydia asked me to call our dentist. I borrowed Samuel’s horse and buggy to save time coming to use the phone.” Lines at the corners of her eyes deepened. “I didn’t know you were here until I arrived and Fannie told me where to find you, thinking I knew you were here.”
Eli frowned and gestured. “Great. Now here comes Roman.”
Ruth heard the scrape of gravel and turned to see the older man striding down the path, followed by his two yapping rat terriers. She glanced back at Eli and said softly, “I’d best go.”
He nodded. “We’ll talk later.”
“Eli?” Roman brushed sawdust off his worn leather apron as he approached. “Is there something?” He looked from Eli to Mam as the yipping little dogs darted past him. “Quiet!” he ordered. The brown and white terriers leaped up, stub tails wagging. “Get down, I say. Behave.” His cheeks reddened. “Fannie spoils them.”
“The dogs are fine.” Mam leaned to pet one and then the other. “No treats today,” she told the terriers.
“I thought there might be…” Roman tugged at his beard and glanced at Eli “…a problem here.”
“Mam came to use the phone,” Ruth explained. “I’m riding back to the school with her.” She averted her gaze as she hurried past Roman. It was bad enough that Mam had embarrassed her in front of Eli. She didn’t want to drag his aunt and uncle into it.
As she walked to the buggy behind her mother, feeling like a chastised child, she felt Eli’s gaze on her back. She wanted to turn back, to try to make things right with him, but she didn’t. Maybe because she was afraid, afraid of what she might say. What she might not ever be able to say.
* * *
The two women disappeared around the side of the chair shop. For a moment, Roman and Eli looked at each other without speaking, and then Eli said, “We were talking and Hannah came along. She didn’t think us sitting alone here looked proper. But we needed to talk.” He scuffed the ground with his boot. “You know, about things.”
One of the terriers nipped playfully at the hem of Roman’s black pants, and he shook it off. “Did you tell her about the letter?”
Eli worked his jaw but didn’t respond.
“It’s right that they should know.”
“Hazel wrote to me.
It’s not a matter to be gossiped about.”
“Ne, but you need to tell Ruth. If you’re familiar enough with each other to sit on the bench alone together, you’re familiar enough that she needs to know.” He paused. “And around here, what concerns one of us, concerns all.” Roman slipped his thumbs under his black suspenders. “Fannie’s worked herself up pretty well over it. That letter.”
“Did you tell her what Hazel said?” Eli’s gaze searched his uncle’s face.
“Not my place.” Roman was quiet again for a moment and then went on. “If you’ve a mind to settle here—and you know you’re welcome in our home—you need to make peace with your mother. It’s the only way to make things right…to think about starting your own family.”
Eli understood what he was talking about. If he had any thoughts whatsoever of making a home and a life with Ruth, he needed to tell her what had happened with Hazel. But why should he have to? Why couldn’t Ruth take him for the person he was today? Not back then, back there.
“Then there’s the matter of the church,” Roman said.
Eli tightened his fingers into fists at his sides. “You mean I’d have to join if I want any chance with Ruth.”
“It’s your choice, joining the church or not. You have to decide for yourself what you want from this world,” he said, obviously feeling awkward. “But I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I didn’t tell you it’s what I wish for you…what I’ve prayed for.”
Eli was surprised that his uncle would say these personal things to him. This wasn’t the kind of thing Plain people talked about, especially men, and he knew it had to be difficult for his uncle. But Roman had always been a little different. His grandfather had called him weak, but he wasn’t. Eli wished he had the inner strength Roman possessed.
“I think you’d find peace,” Roman added.
“You don’t know how I’ve struggled over it. I don’t know what to do.” Eli couldn’t look Roman in the eyes any longer. “I’m not certain if I belong in the church or in the outside world. I’m not certain where I belong.”
