Minding Molly

by Leslie Gould

  “Don’t ‘whoa’ me.” She kicked her heel against his shin.

  “What did I miss?” Leon asked.

  “Ask her.” Hannah spit out her words, lunging her head toward me.

  “It’s not how it looks,” I said.

  “Be honest,” she said. “Timothy warned me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That Mervin said something about not coming to the party because you weren’t.”

  I turned toward Mervin, flabbergasted that he would say something to Timothy, of all people, and that it would come out now, in front of Leon.

  Hannah lunged toward me again.

  “Stop,” Mervin said. “Hannah, I should have told you sooner. I’ve known for a while.”

  “But you said you loved me,” she practically snarled.

  “I did. Months ago,” he said. “But that changed when I started working for the Zooks. I love Molly now.”

  Instead of looking at him she glared at me. “How could you? If only Phillip hadn’t dumped you.”

  “Hannah—”

  “You think any man in the county would marry you if you wanted, but it’s not true.”

  I gasped. “I never thought that.” If I ever had, Phillip had proven me wrong. She’d just pointed that out herself.

  “You’re ruining my life.” She lunged forward a third time, still restrained by Leon’s strong arms.

  “Could we talk?” I said to her. “Just you and me.” I stepped toward her.

  Her dark eyes narrowed.

  “Please let her go,” I said to Leon, trying to keep my voice even.

  He complied. I braced myself for Hannah to hurl herself at me, but she didn’t. Instead she clutched her purse with both hands. I straightened my Kapp and without saying anything more to Mervin, motioned for Hannah to follow me toward the Mosiers’ barn. We passed a group of younger girls who all stared at us. By the time we reached the barn door, Hannah’s shoulders shook.

  I pushed up the latch and slipped into the dim interior. Hannah followed me.

  I put my arm around her and she leaned against me, shaking. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I was told you two had stopped courting. I didn’t know you still cared for him until yesterday. My Mamm was pushing me toward Mervin. . . .” Again I couldn’t bear to tell her why—when she would never have a financial worry in her life. Besides, if she told her Aenti Nell that we might lose our farm, the whole county would know before morning. “But,” I said, “I told Mamm today, as soon as I got home, I wouldn’t consider courting Mervin because you still liked him.”

  It was as if I hadn’t said a word. “How could you?” she blubbered.

  “I know, I know. I wanted to talk with you about it yesterday.”

  She shook her head, as if she didn’t remember my questions from the day before.

  “After hearing you were still interested in Mervin . . . I knew it wasn’t right. But I haven’t had a chance to talk with Mervin.” Actually, I probably could have this morning but it hadn’t been on my mind then, especially after seeing Leon. Only talking with Mamm.

  Hannah let out another sob.

  “I’m sorry. It was all a series of misunderstandings, really. That’s all.”

  “That’s all? For you, sure. Not for me. Now Mervin loves you—”

  “He only thinks he does. I’ll talk him out of it.”

  “And into loving me?” Hannah hiccuped.

  “Jah,” I said.

  “How?”

  I pursed my lips. That was our dilemma. Maybe if Leon became interested in me, Mervin would see he didn’t have a chance. But that wouldn’t save our farm.

  I sank down to the cool concrete floor.

  “Molly?” Hannah knelt beside me. She wasn’t used to me acting despondent. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” I answered, holding on to the ties of my Kapp. Everything. “Just give me a minute.”

  She stepped toward the open door.

  As long as I was nearly prostrate on the floor I decided I might as well pray, which honestly, I’d been having a hard time doing since Dat had died. I called out to God, silently of course. Show me what to do. Bless our farm. Take care of Mamm. Preserve my friendship with Hannah. Make Mervin love her. And Leon love me. And then, being only half aware of what I was thinking, I prayed, But only if he stays in Lancaster County instead of going back to Montana. I found myself smiling, just a smidge. Maybe that was what God was up to.

  When Hannah and I walked into the singing we both held our heads up high. Mervin frowned. But Leon smiled, straight at me.

  I told Hannah I didn’t feel well, which was true, and slipped out before the singing was over. I knew it was the coward’s way out, but I couldn’t bear to talk with Mervin in front of a crowd. I’d do it in the morning.

  Just after I’d crossed over the plank of wood across the creek between the two properties, someone called my name. I turned back, peering into the dark night.

  “It’s me, Leon,” the voice called out.

  I reached the fence and put my hand on the top rail, trying to steady myself.

  “May I walk you home?”

  I managed to squeak, “Jah.” And then flung one leg and then the other over the fence, determined to get the task done before Leon caught up with me. But as my second foot came down to the ground I tripped over a rock and stumbled forward, falling to my knees and the heels of my hands.

  “Are you all right?” Leon must have vaulted the fence, because he was by my side, kneeling, before I collected myself.

  “I’m fine.” I brushed my hands together. “Just clumsy.”

  “It’s awfully dark,” he said.

  It was. Clouds had blown in at dusk and now covered the moon and stars. And without my cell phone, I didn’t have a flashlight. I should have taken the road instead of the shortcut.

  “Let me help,” he said, taking my arm.

  My heart beat all the faster at the feel of his skin against mine. “Denki,” I said, standing, sure he could hear the galloping inside my chest as clearly as I could.

  We walked along in silence for a moment, me leading the way along the dark trail. But then a bark interrupted the quiet.

  I called out, “It’s okay, Love.”

  Leon chuckled. “Pardon?”

  “Our dog.” I was grateful he couldn’t see me blush. “Her name is Love. Dat named her.”

  She crashed along the trail toward us, her tail waving. I put out my hand in greeting, and she licked it but then bumped Leon’s leg with her nose.

  He laughed. “She’s not much of a watchdog, is she.”

  “No,” I answered, although I was sure she could be if needed.

  We continued walking along the field of lilies, Love staying close to Leon. Finally I asked him, “Why did you apply for a job in Lancaster?”

  “It sounded like an adventure.”

  “Montana sounds like the adventure,” I said.

  “It is,” he answered.

  “So why did you come out here?”

  “To see where my Dat grew up. And learn from someone who makes a living training horses.”

  “You don’t train horses for a living back home?” I asked.

  “No. We run cattle.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to imagine exactly what that meant. “I thought your Dat trained horses.”

  “He used to. I mostly learned from an old cowboy though.”

  “He must have taught you well.”

  “Denki,” he said. “I’m going to start on Storm tomorrow. Owen says he’s really a wild one.”

  “Well, no wonder, with a name like that,” I said. “And Lightning too. Our horse’s name is Daisy, and she’s as gentle as can be.”

  He chuckled.

  We’d reached the edge of our lawn and I stopped. Love stepped to my side. The only light on in our house was in my bedroom window—Beatrice was probably writing. I expected Mamm had been in bed for an hour or more.

  Leon stepped to my sid
e. “I’m not really sure what happened back there,” he said. “Before the singing.”

  The clouds drifted, and a sliver of moonlight illuminated his face, showing his kind blue eyes. “But if it’s true you and Mervin aren’t courting . . .” His voice trailed off. I realized he wanted me to confirm it.

  “There’s been some expectation that we would,” I said.

  “From your family?”

  “My Mamm,” I said. “And a little from Mervin.”

  “I see,” Leon said.

  I hurried to add, “But it’s not what I want.” Sure, I’d considered it yesterday for a few hours, but that was before I met Leon.

  “Then,” he said, speaking slowly, “could I call on you sometime?”

  “Jah, I’d like that,” I answered, turning back toward the house. The light went out. I was tempted to invite him in, but if Mamm wasn’t asleep, it would be hard to explain what was going on, at least with Leon present.

  “Can you come by tomorrow night?” I asked.

  I’d talk to Mamm. She was a kind and compassionate person. She’d come around.

  He nodded and said, “Good-bye, then.”

  I waved, not sure what to say. I’d never felt so self-conscious, so unlike myself. My bedroom window slammed shut. I frowned.

  “Your Mamm?” Leon stared up at the window.

  “No, my sister,” I responded. “She’s a little temperamental.”

  He raised his eyebrows but in fun. “I have a sister like that.”

  “Just one?” I teased.

  “One in particular.” He smiled again. “See you tomorrow.”

  Love started to take off after him, but I called her back and then waved, even though Leon couldn’t see me, and turned toward the back door. Before I reached it I turned, placed my hand over my heart, and watched him as the clouds drifted even more, revealing the half moon shining down as Leon disappeared along the field. I hadn’t asked him how long he planned to stay in Lancaster County—but I hoped for good.

  The next morning at five, I sat up in bed feeling clammy, as if I might be ill. But then I remembered Leon. I’d never before felt anything close to how I felt about him. I nudged Beatrice, who’d drifted to the middle of my double bed, but she didn’t stir.

  I swung my feet out of bed and pulled the sheets and quilt tight, efficiently making my side of the bed. Then I dressed quickly, slipped my nightgown under my pillow when I’d finished, and leaned over to kiss Beatrice’s forehead. “Rise and shine,” I said.

  She groaned. “I hate it when you say that.”

  I left her, stopping at the window to pull open the curtain. Rays of pink light were already starting to glow over the saplings in the far field. The rooster crowed as I hurried downstairs.

  I’d made a point, long before Dat died, to be the first one up every morning. Over the years, both my parents had come to rely on me more and more. And now Mamm continued to. I liked the responsibility of being in charge, both with my circle of friends and at home.

  I’d figure out another way, without marrying Mervin, to bring in more income. Perhaps if I came up with a solid business plan, Mamm would consider the bed-and-breakfast idea. True, we’d have to get permission from the bishop, but once he knew our situation I thought he’d agree it was a good idea. But I’d need to wait until we knew what, if anything, was wrong with Mamm.

  Every morning at breakfast, she would ask me what jobs needed to be done as far as the nursery stock, the flowers, the garden, the orders, and the deliveries. I’d often hear her parrot what I’d said to Mervin. More and more often, I was the one who returned phone calls from landscapers—the few who still bought from us—and from retailers.

  Once in the kitchen, I filled the kettle and lit the back burner of the stove. Next I grabbed the egg basket and hurried outside into the first light of the day. Love joined me.

  As I pushed open the barn door, Love bolted inside, ignoring the cats that began rubbing against my legs. I’d timed every step of my routine, aiming for optimum efficiency. I cooed, “Good morning,” and stepped into the first stall, quickly feeding the cats their allotment of dried food. That’s all they’d get for the day—I wanted them good and hungry at night, when they did most of their mousing. That was how they earned their keep.

  I grabbed the basket again and hurried out the back door of the barn to the watering trough, turning on the spigot for Daisy and the workhorses. While it ran, I rushed to the chicken coop, where Love stayed outside. The rooster crowed again as I entered. I ignored him and gathered the eggs quickly—all eleven of them. I’d added several more hens, hoping to begin selling eggs at the market too. At this rate, I’d start next Saturday.

  After I left the coop, with Love at my heels, I returned to the trough and turned off the water, then walked as quickly as I could, without jostling the eggs, back to the house, leaving Love behind. I guessed she’d soon be in search of Mervin. As I entered the kitchen, the kettle began to whistle.

  “Perfect,” I said as I turned down the burner.

  Mamm liked tea for breakfast, although I’d taken a liking to coffee. I frowned. I’d probably need to cut back on it to save money.

  I heard footsteps upstairs as I placed three tea bags in the pot. Hopefully Beatrice was up. I poured the water, secured the lid, and then placed the kettle back on the stove.

  Mamm told me once that Dat’s older children had mellowed him. Neither of them had been a problem—not beyond the normal woes of child rearing, it seemed—so Dat, and my Mamm along with him, had been pretty lackadaisical when it came to rearing me. True, I’d socialized a lot, but I’d never gotten into trouble. They seemed relieved to let me work out my growing up on my own.

  Unlike Hannah’s parents, they’d never questioned me about spending the night with a friend or going to a party or a singing. They’d trusted me—and not only with my own life but with decisions that concerned us all. And Mamm had continued with that trust after my Dat’s passing.

  Part of the reason for my parents’ reliance on me was probably my personality. Mamm had once told me I was a born matriarch. I’d smiled at that, acknowledging that I enjoyed being in charge.

  Through the years, I’d given Bea chance after chance to take responsibility around the house and farm, but she hadn’t. She seemed fine letting me lead.

  Footsteps coming down the stairs signaled my mother’s arrival. I took a mug from the cupboard and the milk from the fridge, sloshing in just enough to cover the bottom of the mug, just the way she liked it.

  As she entered the kitchen, I handed her the tea. I had at least five minutes to talk with her about Leon—in some vague way to at least introduce the idea of him—before Beatrice appeared, if she was on schedule. Maybe more if she lingered.

  But before Mamm could settle down at the table, a knock sounded against the side of the open back door.

  “Whoever could that be at this early hour?” I said.

  Mamm shrugged as she called out, “Come in.”

  Mervin entered, his sunglasses in his hand, looking lost. No wonder, after last night. Hopefully he and Hannah talked after the singing and sorted things out.

  That didn’t explain what he was doing in our kitchen at 5:35 a.m. though.

  He looked at Mamm. “You told me to come before breakfast.”

  A puzzled expression settled on her face. “I did?”

  “Jah,” Mervin said. “On Saturday. Right before I quit for the day.”

  “Oh goodness,” Mamm said. “That totally slipped my mind.”

  I grabbed three more eggs.

  “How about a cup of tea?” Mamm nodded toward me.

  “Denki,” Mervin said.

  I grabbed another mug, replanning my day as fast as I could.

  Mervin usually went home for dinner. I could talk to Mamm then.

  Chapter

  6

  Mervin didn’t go home for the noon meal; instead he ate with us in response to Mamm’s invitation. She fixed sandwiches and didn
’t have any more memory lapses or headaches. In fact, she seemed perfectly normal.

  Afterward, while Beatrice cleaned up, Mamm and Mervin went to look at the irrigation system, and I headed out to work in the flowers. Love followed me, stopping at the edge of the field. She seemed to be over her infatuation with Mervin.

  I deadheaded the snapdragons, hoping for another round of blooms before the really hot weather set in, and then inspected the lily field. The Asiatic lilies would, depending on the weather, bloom in a couple of weeks. I hoped they’d be a big seller in the market. The first of the lavender had started to blossom. We’d sell those both as cut flowers and also transplant some into pots.

  I made a mental note to ask Mervin to do that soon, so the plants had time to acclimate before Saturday. And to transplant the rest of the geraniums too. They’d been big sellers last Saturday.

  After a while, I saw Mamm head back to the house, probably to take a nap. It was good for her not to overdo it. She’d seemed fine so far today. Maybe all she needed was the extra rest she’d been fitting in the last few days. More and more I agreed with her, that her episode on Friday was due to stress.

  I stayed in the field, away from Mervin, determined not to have to talk about what happened the night before.

  But just before supper, as I opened the back door to try to catch a breeze, there he was. Mamm had just come down from her room and heard me say hello to him, and she quickly invited him to eat with us. Beatrice had made chicken potpie, green beans, applesauce, and homemade bread. It seemed Edna had inspired us to get back to eating normally.

  I kept the topic to business throughout the meal, bringing up what we needed to do the next day and the rest of the week to get ready for the market and keep up with all the chores. Mervin offered some suggestions, while Mamm asked a few questions, all of which made sense.

  Just as we finished our meal, the sound of a horse’s hooves came up our driveway.

  “Who could that be?” Mamm asked, rising to her feet.

  A shadow passed over Mervin’s face. He and I knew perfectly well who it was, but neither of us said anything. I hadn’t expected Leon so soon—or I would have said something to Mamm even with Mervin around.