by Sarah Price
Chapter Seven
By the following week, Edna wondered how she’d ever catered so many meals and for so many people without having hired help.
Mary was truly a godsend, especially on Wednesday. For some reason, even though it was the day before Thanksgiving, over twenty women had come for the noon meal.
That Destination Amish tour company certainly attracts a lot of people, Edna thought. She’d have to write to the owner, Michelle, and thank her for sending so much new business to her house. It was a blessing to have the extra income and, frankly, Edna enjoyed meeting so many nice women, even if they were the hungriest Englischers she’d ever served.
Only once had she encountered a group with a woman—the organizer of the gathering, no less!—who was unkind. In fact, she’d been downright condescending. But Edna knew well enough that there was always one bad apple in a bunch. Fortunately, it had only been that one time.
Otherwise, Edna found her work rather fulfilling. She especially enjoyed receiving kind letters from some of her guests. They seemed to like writing letters, and, especially during the winter months, Edna was more than happy to reply to their correspondence.
Yes, God had blessed her with being able to help her family during difficult times. She was thankful for work that didn’t take her away from the farm.
And yet, as she looked around and assessed the disaster left behind—supper plates, dessert plates, utensils, water glasses, coffee mugs, and serving platters—she couldn’t help but sigh.
Well, she thought, that’s what I’m paid to do. Cook and clean up.
“Best get started, I reckon,” she muttered, more to herself than to Mary.
“You’re so busy anymore,” Mary said as she began clearing the table. “It was never like this before, was it now?”
For a moment, Edna didn’t respond. Truth was that she’d noticed a difference after she’d teamed up with Destination Amish. Even though Michelle was based out of Sugar Creek, Ohio, she had begun promoting Edna’s dinners to her clients. That was when Edna’s business had boomed. In fact, she’d been booked months in advance. And then Michelle had asked her to consider adding additional days to her schedule to accommodate the holiday demand.
Only because of the continuing issue with declining dairy prices had Edna agreed.
While Edna knew that the company had something to do with the increase, she also knew that tourism in Shipshewana was increasing overall. That new play at the Amish Acres’ Round Theater, Belle, had something to do with it, or so several of her guests had informed her. A retelling of a fairy tale that was popular among the Englische—but told in an Amish setting and with Englische actors and actresses—it had attracted a lot of new tourists. And, of course, people appeared to really enjoy the quaint town, with so many small shops and good restaurants.
“Nee,” she responded to Mary at last. “Not like this. And with the holidays nearly upon us . . .” She left the sentence unfinished, for they both already knew that the busy schedule wouldn’t change until just before Christmas. Turning to face Mary, Edna gave her a grateful smile. “I sure am thankful for your help,” she repeated once again.
Silently, she said a prayer of gratitude, not just for the increase in business but for John having insisted that she find someone to work alongside her.
But now it was time to clean up.
“Well, I see that we’ve enough leftover cookies and rolls,” Edna said as she surveyed the remaining platters. As before, there were scarcely enough leftovers to feed her family that night. “I can take the rolls to Ida’s haus for Thanksgiving supper tomorrow, but it looks like I’ll still have to make that corn casserole.”
“Having the holiday meal with the Beachys again?”
Edna nodded. Elmer’s sister, Ida, always hosted the main Thanksgiving gathering for the family, not just because the floor plan of their old farmhouse accommodated the large family, but also because Elmer’s parents resided with their daughter and her family.
“Well, let’s package these up, then. Where are your containers?” Mary finished carrying the last of the serving dishes to the sink. “I’ll fetch one.”
“Containers?” Edna dropped the hand holding a dish towel to her hip and pointed toward the small door at the back of the kitchen near the staircase. “I should have one or two in the pantry. But let me do that. Surely you must have things to do at home, being that tomorrow’s Thanksgiving.”
Mary, however, waved her off. “Don’t be silly. We’re only going to Verna’s, and Bethany made two sides for us to bring. I’d never leave you with an unclean kitchen after you’ve worked hard all day.”
Mary headed in the direction of the small room that Edna used to store her canned goods, dry food, and larger pots. Edna followed.
The shelves were lined with all of the jars of food that Edna had canned for the winter. While everything looked full, Edna suspected that it wouldn’t last until spring. She’d worried about that during the canning season and now knew that she should’ve prepared even more. Most of her guests liked to have canned beets and chow chow with their meals.
Sighing, Edna scanned the shelves for her less-used containers. “Up there,” she said and pointed. “Best wait for one of the boys to come in so they can reach it. John should be around here somewhere. He’s not working this week, you know.” She headed back toward the sink. “I didn’t think to have one of them bring the containers down since we weren’t baking for worship this week.”
“Oh, I can reach it.”
But Edna shook her head. The stepladder had broken the previous week and Elmer had yet to fix it. “We’ve enough to do until the boys come in.”
Back at the sink, Edna turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up. The water heater ran off propane, so it took a while. “I sure do enjoy listening to those women talk, don’t you?” She ran her fingers under the water. “Come on, now,” she grumbled. “It always takes so long to get hot.”
There was no response.
“Mary?”
A voice called from the pantry. “What did you say?”
Edna leaned back and peered toward the doorway. “What’re you doing?”
“Fetching those—”
Before Mary could finish her sentence, Edna heard the sound of wood scraping against the floor, and her friend cried out.
When Edna heard the crash, she knew that something bad had happened.
“Mary!”
Quick as she could, Edna ran over to the pantry, only to find Mary on the floor, her foot stuck in between the lower rungs of the ladder.
“Oh, Mary! What happened?”
She didn’t have to ask, for it was obvious enough. Clearly Mary hadn’t listened to her and had seen the stepladder. She must not have noticed the broken hinge and had fallen to the ground when she tried to climb it.
“Don’t move.” Edna knelt beside her friend and grabbed her hand. “Did you hit your head?”
“Nee.” Wincing as she tried to sit up, Mary reached down and grabbed her leg just above her ankle. “But I think I hurt my leg.”
Edna stood and ran to the kitchen door. Throwing it open, she reached for the bell that hung there, pulling on the cord as she called out for her husband.
Within seconds, she saw him peer around the side of the dairy barn.
“Kum! Mary’s fallen!” She gestured toward the house. “She’s hurt.”
Immediately, Elmer broke into a run, racing across the yard that separated the barn from the house. As he approached the porch, Edna hurried back inside, praying that her friend hadn’t broken her leg.
Why, oh why, hadn’t Mary listened to her?
Chapter Eight
Mary rubbed her ankle, too aware that Edna and her husband, Elmer, hovered over her. She felt foolish. Why on earth had she climbed that stepladder?
“Oh, Mary!” Edna knelt beside her. “Does it hurt much?”
She felt the color flood her cheeks. She didn’t want to admit that it did, but
she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. “Mayhaps it’s just my ankle. Just a little twist, I suspect.”
She’d seen the stepladder against the back wall and thought only to help out by fetching those containers. It was too hard to clean a kitchen when food still needed to be put away. So, she’d fetched the stepladder, opened it, and then climbed it. But just as she’d been reaching for the containers, she felt the stepladder give underneath her feet.
When she had fallen, the room spun and she hit the floor. Hard. But it was the way her foot and leg had gotten caught in between the two steps that seemed to have caused her injury.
“Let’s get you up.” Edna’s hand wrapped around her elbow and she nodded to her husband. “Gentle now, Elmer.”
Carefully, they hoisted Mary to her feet, but the moment she tried to put pressure on her right foot, she winced in pain, fighting the urge to cry out. Shooting pain ran up her leg and she stumbled to the side, grabbing Elmer’s arm.
“Oh help,” she muttered.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs was immediately followed by John’s voice. “What’s happened here?” He didn’t wait for a response as he hurried over and wrapped his arm around Mary’s waist, lifting her up so that she leaned against him. “I gotcha.”
This time, she couldn’t hold back. Tears sprang to her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she willed them away. The last thing she wanted was to cry, but the pain radiating up her right leg toward her knee made it difficult. She’d never been one to tolerate pain very well.
Clearly concerned, Edna turned her eyes from Mary to John. “You best help her to the sofa, and mayhaps, Elmer, you should call for help.”
Mary wanted to tell her friend not to bother, but she couldn’t speak. The pain was greater than she could bear. So, instead, she let John practically carry her to the sofa. Only when she was seated could she catch her breath.
“I . . . I think I’m fine, Edna,” she managed to say. “The fall just winded me some.”
“Hmph.” One look at Edna’s face and Mary knew she didn’t believe her. “You need a doctor to look at your leg.” She turned toward her husband. “Mayhaps even the hospital.”
Shaking her head, Mary refused. She didn’t want a doctor, and she certainly didn’t want to go to the hospital. It was bad enough that she felt foolish for having fallen, but she also felt terrible that she couldn’t finish her job. She was supposed to be helping Edna, not burdening her. And with the next day being Thanksgiving, Mary certainly didn’t want to be stuck in the emergency room with all of those big, fancy machines and fast-talking doctors.
“Too much fuss, I’m sure. It’s probably just sprained.”
“Or broken!” Edna shot back. “You don’t set that right and you’ll have problems for the rest of your life, Mary.”
“I best go call Abram,” Elmer said. “He’s probably still at work, ja? See what he thinks to do.”
As Elmer left, John knelt down and gestured toward her leg. “May I take a look?” he asked.
Embarrassed, Mary could only nod.
Gently, his fingers touched her ankle, applying pressure along the sides. “It’s not warm to the touch,” he said in a soft voice. “And you can wiggle your toes?”
She did as he asked.
“And if I touch your ankle here, does it hurt?” He pressed his fingers along the soft part of her ankle.
She winced. “Ja, it hurts.”
He frowned, his forehead suddenly creased with deep wrinkles. “How about here?” Gently, he moved his fingers to the bone above her ankle.
She winced. “A little.”
With a deep sigh, John stood up. “You really should go to the hospital, Mary, but it’s up to you.”
Mary clenched her teeth, willing herself to try ignoring the pain. “I reckon it won’t hurt to wait until later . . . see how bad it still is.” She just wanted to get home, take some aspirin, and rest with her leg elevated. Surely if it was broken, it would hurt much more, she told herself.
“Well then, I’ll harness the horse and drive you home.” John glanced at his mother. They exchanged a look, a secretive and silent communication between them.
“Gut idea,” Edna said. “Abram will know what to do and whether or not to take you to the hospital. But either way, you best rest up. I don’t expect you’ll be coming back here on Friday or Saturday.”
Mary averted her eyes. She didn’t want to see the look of disappointment that surely covered Edna’s face. It was, most likely, the same expression that she herself wore.
Not only was Edna hosting large groups on Friday and Saturday, but the weeks leading up to Christmas were just as chaotic, with large groups scheduled back-to-back. Mary had actually been looking forward to getting into the holiday spirit by assisting her friend. During the few days that she’d already worked for Edna, Mary had found she didn’t mind interfacing with the Englische women and the occasional man who paid to enjoy a dinner meal at noon in an Amish house.
Her own house had never been filled with lots of people. Despite having wanted a large family, Mary only had Bethany. And when the holidays rolled around, their house was never as busy as it appeared to be for other, larger Amish families.
So Mary had found herself enjoying working at Edna’s. It was nice to be surrounded by the conversations, laughter, and joviality of the guests who came to Edna’s house. The people were kind and curious about the Amish way of life and seemed to genuinely enjoy conversing with her and Edna. Yes, she had definitely liked working there.
Plus, truth be told, Mary had found herself enjoying the one-on-one company with her friend. She couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had spent so much time together without Verna and Wilma being with them.
But, even without seeing a doctor, she knew that Edna was right. With an injured ankle and leg, Mary couldn’t help Edna. Never mind what a doctor might say; Abram would certainly tell her no, too. He’d be far too concerned about her further injuring herself if she didn’t take the time to heal properly.
Mary took a deep breath and, shutting her eyes, rested her head against the back of the sofa. Why hadn’t she listened to Edna? Instead of helping her friend out of a bind, Mary had now created a bigger problem, for who would assist Edna now?
Chapter Nine
When she heard the buggy pull up to the house, Bethany glanced at the clock. Who would be visiting at this time? No one was expected. Her mother was still at the Eshes’, and her father wouldn’t be home from work until four thirty.
Walking over to the front window, Bethany lifted the green shade and peered outside. To her surprise, she saw that it was Edna’s buggy.
Frowning, Bethany wondered why her mother was home so early. And why on earth was Edna driving her? As she had the three previous days, her mother had bicycled to the Eshes’ farm. The weather was fair, so that couldn’t be the reason that Edna had driven her mother back to the house.
Besides, it was still early. Bethany hadn’t expected her mother home until closer to four o’clock—she and Edna usually visited afterward—but it was barely three.
To Bethany’s surprise, she watched as a man, not Edna, got out of the buggy and tied the horse to the wooden hitching post at the end of the driveway. Was that Elmer? She couldn’t tell because his back was turned toward her. But when the man returned to the left side of the buggy, she didn’t see Elmer’s familiar white beard. Who on earth was driving the buggy?
Wiping her hands on a dry dish towel, Bethany hurried over to the kitchen door in time to see the Amish man helping her mother from the buggy. His hat was tipped down and Bethany couldn’t make out who it was.
With her arm draped around the man’s shoulders and his around her waist, Mary hobbled on one leg along the path toward the house. The way she moved, her leg jerking quickly as she tried to walk and her arm over the man’s shoulders, only created more questions. Surely something was wrong, indeed!
For a moment, Bethany felt a wave of panic—not over
the strange man but over seeing her mother injured.
“Maem!” She flung open the door, not caring that it banged against the side of the house, and hurried outside to wrap her arm around her mother’s waist. Her hand brushed against the man’s, but she avoided looking at him. “What happened?”
“Oh, something silly.” Mary tried to laugh it off, but Bethany saw through that fast enough. The paleness of her mother’s face and the tears that welled in her eyes told Bethany that it wasn’t something silly at all.
“Maem?”
“Well, I might have sprained my ankle,” she admitted, then glanced at the man who was assisting her into the house. “John was kind enough to bring me home.”
John? She hadn’t even looked at the man who was helping her mother. Now, she realized she needed to thank him.
Turning toward him, Bethany caught her breath.
She recognized him right away. Those blue eyes would’ve been hard to forget. And, when their eyes met, she saw that he, too, recognized her.
The man from Yoders’ Store!
Quickly, she averted her gaze, uncertain what to say to him. Without another word, Bethany propped up her mother’s other side as she and John held Mary upright on what felt like an endless journey into the house.
“Where shall we seat her?” he asked.
Quietly, Bethany gestured toward the recliner in the back corner of the kitchen. It was the chair her mother always sat in after supper to read or crochet.
“Good choice,” John said. “She can elevate her foot.”
He helped Bethany get her mother to the chair and then stood back. With his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes seemed to follow Bethany as she hurried for something to cover her mother. Behind the sofa was a large basket of yarns, and on top of it was a threadbare quilt.
