Plain and Fancy

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  ***

  “How was your day?” Eli asked, as he stepped into the kitchen that evening and found Laura sitting at the table, tearing lettuce leaves into a bowl.

  “It was okay. How about yours?”

  “Busy. We got several new orders at the store today, and my boss said we might have to put in more overtime in order to get them done.”

  She groaned. “I hope not. You work too much as it is.”

  He placed his lunch pail on the counter and joined her at the table. He was too tired to argue, and it seemed like he never won an argument with Laura anyway, so what was the use?

  “Your sister and little Ben came by today.” Laura looked over at him and smiled. “She invited us to join their family on a picnic at the lake tomorrow.”

  “What time?”

  “She said for supper, and that they’d be there by four.”

  “That might be okay. I’ll need to work in my shop awhile, and I promised Pop I’d help him do a couple of chores, too.”

  “What time will you be done?”

  “Probably by four, I would imagine.”

  “Then we can go on the picnic?” Laura’s expression was so hopeful, there was no way Eli could say no.

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Jah, tomorrow we’ll join my sister and her family for a picnic.”

  ***

  The lake was beautiful, and Laura drank in the peacefulness until she felt as if her heart would burst.

  Martha Rose was busy setting out her picnic foods, and the men were playing ball with little Ben. Laura brought out the brownies and iced mint tea she had made, and soon the plywood table they’d brought from home was brimming with food.

  Everyone gathered for silent prayer, and then the men heaped their plates full. Laura was the last to dish up, but she only took small helpings of everything. When she came to the tray of pickled-beet eggs, a surge of nausea rolled through her stomach like angry ocean waves. Pickled eggs were sickening—little purple land mines, waiting to destroy her insides.

  Laura dropped her plate of food and dashed for the woods. Eli ran after her, but he waited until she had emptied her stomach before saying anything.

  “You okay?” he asked with obvious concern.

  Laura stood on wobbly legs. “I’m fine. It was the sight of those pickled eggs. They’re disgusting! How can anyone eat those awful things?”

  Eli slipped his arm around her waist. “Maybe you’ve got the flu.”

  She shook her head. “It was just the eggs. Let’s go back to the picnic. I’m fine now, honest.”

  The rest of the day went well enough, and Laura felt a bit better after drinking some of her cold mint tea. She even joined a friendly game of tag, but she did notice the looks of concern Eli and his sister exchanged. At least nobody had said anything about her getting sick, and for that, she was glad.

  ***

  A few days later while Laura was outside gathering eggs from the henhouse, she had another attack of nausea. She hadn’t eaten any breakfast, so she figured that was the reason. Besides, the acrid odor of chicken manure was enough to make anyone sick.

  On her way back to the house, she spotted Eli’s mother hanging laundry on the line. Mary Ellen waved and called to Laura, but Laura only nodded in return and hurried on. She was in no mood for a confrontation with her mother-in-law this morning, and she certainly didn’t want to get sick in front of her.

  “I’m almost finished here,” Mary Ellen called. “Come have a cup of coffee.”

  Laura’s stomach lurched at the mention of coffee, and she wondered how she could graciously get out of the invitation.

  Mary Ellen called to her again. “I know you’re busy, but surely you can take a few minutes for a little chat.”

  Laura inhaled deeply and released a sigh. “All right. I’ll set this basket of eggs inside, then be right over.” May as well give in, or Mary Ellen will probably report to Eli that his wife is unsociable.

  Laura entered the house and deposited the eggs in the refrigerator. Then she took a glass from the cupboard and went to the sink for a cool drink of water. She drank it slowly and took several deep breaths, which seemed to help settle her stomach some.

  She opened the back door. “Well, here goes nothing.”

  When she stepped into the Yoders’ kitchen a few minutes later, she found Mary Ellen seated at the table. Two cups were sitting there, and the strong aroma of coffee permeated the air.

  Laura’s stomach did a little flip-flop as she took a seat. “Uh, would you mind if I had mint tea instead of coffee?”

  Mary Ellen pushed her chair aside and stood. “If that’s what you prefer.” She went to the cupboard and retrieved a box of tea bags, then poured boiling water from the teapot on the stove into a clean mug and added one bag. “You’re looking kind of peaked this morning.” she said, handing Laura the tea.

  “I think I might have a touch of the flu.”

  “You could be in a family way. Have you thought about that?”

  Laura shook her head. “It’s the flu. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Would you like some shoofly pie or a buttermilk biscuit?” “I might try a biscuit.”

  Mary Ellen passed Laura a basket of warm biscuits. “So, tell me, how long has this flu thing been going on?”

  “Just a few days.”

  “If it continues, maybe you’d better see the doctor.”

  There she goes again, telling me what to do. Laura reached for the small pitcher on the table and poured some milk into the tea, stirring it vigorously. With a splash, some of the hot liquid splattered onto her hand, and she grimaced. “I’ll see the doctor if I don’t feel better soon.”

  ***

  Mary Ellen moved her chair a little closer to Laura’s. “I ... uh ... have been meaning to apologize for bringing Pauline up to you a few weeks ago. I shouldn’t have said anything about the woman’s cooking skills.”

  “Apology accepted.” Laura took a sip of tea. “Have you heard anything about Pauline since she moved to Ohio?”

  “Just that she got there safely and seems to like it well enough.”

  “Any idea how long she’ll be staying?”

  Mary Ellen shrugged. “Guess it all depends.”

  Laura drummed her fingernails along the edge of the tablecloth. “On how soon she gets over Eli? Is that what you mean?”

  “Jah.”

  “Eli has told me several times that he and Pauline were never more than friends, but I guess she was hoping for more.”

  Mary Ellen wasn’t sure how to respond, because the truth was she’d been hoping for more, too. She had always liked Pauline and had thought she would have made Eli a good wife. Maybe if Eli hadn’t played around during his rumpschpringe years so long and had settled down and joined the church sooner, he would have married Pauline. Probably wouldn’t have met Laura, either.

  “Are you about finished with your tea? Would you like another cup?” she asked, hoping the change of subject might clear the air between them.

  “I am almost done, but I’m feeling kind of tired all of a sudden, so I think I’ll head home and rest awhile.”

  Mary Ellen studied Laura. Dark circles showed under her eyes, and her face looked pale and drawn. Either she’d been working too hard setting up her new household, or there was something physically wrong. She figured it would be best not to make an issue of it, though. No point in setting herself up to say something wrong and then need to apologize again. So she merely smiled and said, “Guess I’d better get busy making some pickled-beet eggs I promised Johnny he could have. Have a good rest of the day, Laura.”

  Laura nodded, pushed her chair aside, and dashed from the room.

  Mary Ellen shook her head. “Something tells me there’s a lot more going on with Eli’s wife than she’s willing to admit.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Laura’s nausea and fatigue continued all that week, but she did her best to hide it from Eli. She didn’t want him pressuring her to s
ee the doctor, or worse yet, asking a bunch of questions the way his mother had.

  One morning, Laura decided to go into town for some supplies. She asked Eli to hitch the horse to the buggy before he left for work, as she still didn’t feel comfortable doing that on her own. As soon as her morning chores were done, she set her dark bonnet in place over her white kapp and climbed into the waiting buggy.

  When Laura arrived in town, her first stop was the pharmacy. She scanned the shelves until she found exactly what she was looking for. She brought the item to the checkout counter and waited for the middle-aged clerk to ring it up. He gave her a strange look as he placed the small box inside a paper sack. Laura wondered if she was the first Amish woman who had ever purchased a home pregnancy kit.

  The test couldn’t be taken until early the next morning, so when she got home later in the day, Laura found a safe place to hide it. The last thing she needed was for Eli to discover it and jump to the wrong conclusions. He would surely think she was pregnant, and she was equally sure she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Of course, she had missed her monthly, but that wasn’t too uncommon for her. Then what about the fatigue and nausea? Those were definite signs of pregnancy; even she knew that much.

  Laura waited until Eli left for work the following morning before going to her sewing basket, retrieving the test kit, and rushing to the bathroom.

  Moments later, Laura’s hands trembled as she held the strip up for examination. It was bright pink. The blood drained from her face, and she sank to the floor, steadying herself against the unyielding wall. “Oh, no! This just can’t be!”

  She studied it longer, just to be sure she hadn’t read it wrong. It was still pink. “I can’t be pregnant. What will it do to my figure?”

  Some time later when Laura emerged from the bathroom, her eyes felt sore and swollen from crying. She went straight to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water on her face.

  I can’t tell Eli or even my folks about this yet. I need time to adjust to the idea first.

  “How long can I keep a secret like this?” she moaned. After some quick calculations, she figured she must be about eight weeks along. In another four to six weeks, she might be starting to show. Besides, if she kept getting sick every day, Eli would either suspect she was pregnant or decide she was definitely sick and take her to the doctor.

  “What am I going to do?” she wailed, looking down at Foosie, asleep at her feet.

  No response. Just some gentle purring from the contented-looking cat.

  Laura glanced out the window and saw the mail truck pull up to the box by the road. “Guess I’ll walk out and get the mail while I think about this situation some more.”

  Laura found a stack of letters in the box and was surprised to see one from Darla. She hadn’t heard anything from her friend from school in several months, and she’d figured Darla had probably forgotten her by now.

  Back in the kitchen, Laura took a seat at the table and opened Darla’s letter. It didn’t say much except that she had a few days off from her job in Philadelphia and wondered if Laura would like to meet her for lunch at a restaurant near Strasburg on Friday of next week.

  Laura figured there was plenty of time to get a letter sent back to Darla before Friday, so she moved over to the desk on the other side of the room and took out a piece of paper and a pen. Having lunch with Darla wouldn’t solve her immediate problem, but at least it would be a nice outing and was something to look forward to.

  ***

  Before Laura left the house the following Friday, she wrote Eli a note telling him where she was going and that she would try to be back in time to get supper going before he got home. Then she hitched one of their most docile mares to the buggy and headed out.

  When Laura pulled into the restaurant parking lot some time later, she was pleased to see Darla’s little sports car parked there. She climbed down from the buggy, secured the horse to the hitching rail, and headed into the restaurant.

  She spotted Darla sitting at a table near the window and hurried over to her. “Hey, it’s good to see you,” she said, taking a seat on the other side of the table. “Thanks for inviting me to join you.”

  Darla smiled at first, but then her forehead wrinkled as she frowned. “I barely recognized you in those Amish clothes. You sure have changed.”

  Laura nodded and held out her hands. “Just look at my nails.”

  Darla shook her head and grunted. “Every one of them is broken.” She stared at Laura, making her feel suddenly uncomfortable. “You look tired. What do you do, work all day and never sleep?”

  Laura reached for the glass of water the young waitress had just brought and took a sip. “I do work hard, but my fatigue doesn’t come from just that.”

  “What then? Did you jog all the way here or something?”

  Laura would have laughed if she hadn’t felt so crummy. She wished there were some soda crackers on the table, because she needed something to help calm her nausea.

  “You’re looking kind of pasty there, kiddo. Are you feeling sick?”

  Laura nodded, and tears welled in her eyes. “I—I’m pregnant.”

  Darla’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “I knew marrying that Amish guy would bring you nothing but trouble.”

  “I don’t need any lectures,” Laura snapped. “Besides, I could have gotten pregnant no matter who I’d married.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Do?”

  “Yeah. It’s obvious to me by the look on your face that you’re anything but happy about being pregnant.”

  Laura sighed. “I enjoy being around Eli’s nephew, and I would like to have a baby of my own sometime. I just hadn’t expected it would be this soon or that I would feel so rotten.” She looked down at her still-flat stomach. “I wonder how long it will be before I lose my shape.”

  “Probably won’t take too long at all. How far along are you?”

  “A little over eight weeks, according to my calculations.”

  “Good. Then it’s not too late to have an abortion.”

  “A what?” Laura nearly choked on the water she’d put in her mouth.

  “You don’t want to be pregnant; am I right?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “There’s a clinic in Philly, and I can make the appointment for you if you’d like.” Darla leaned across the table. “No one but you and me would ever have to know, and I’m sure you would feel better once this was all behind you.”

  Laura shook her head. “Oh, no, I couldn’t....”

  “If money’s a problem, I could float you a loan.”

  “This is not about money.” Laura’s voice rose to a high pitch, and her hands trembled so badly, she had to set her glass down to keep from spilling the water.

  “If you’ve got enough money, then what’s the problem?”

  “The problem’s with the abortion, Darla. I could never do anything like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “It–it’s against the Amish beliefs to take the life of an unborn baby.” The tears Laura had been fighting to keep at bay spilled over and dripped onto her cheeks. “And I would never dream of doing such a thing.” She placed her hand against her stomach. “This baby is part of me and Eli, and even though I’m not looking forward to being fat and unattractive, I want to make him happy. I want to do what’s right.”