by Sarah Price
“Good day, Mary,” he said. His large dark eyes shifted from her to Wilma—to whom he politely nodded his head—and then to Bethany.
“John! What a surprise,” Mary said. “Is everything all right at home?”
“Oh ja, sure. Right as rain.” He reached up and grabbed his straw hat. Holding it before himself, he fiddled with it as though uncomfortable in the Ropps’ kitchen.
Mary waited expectantly.
“I, uh, well, my maem asked me to stop by to see how you’re doing.”
That’s odd, Mary thought. Surely Edna could have called instead of sending her son. “I’m fine, John.” She gestured toward her cast. “A bit hindered from moving around but otherwise fine.”
“Did Edna send you all this way just for that?” Wilma inquired.
He looked up as if surprised to see Wilma watching him. “Oh, uh, nee.” He gave a nervous laugh. “She was, uh, wondering if it might be possible to have some assistance with her groups coming in this week.” He paused.
“Assistance?” Mary frowned. She thought she had made it clear to Edna that she simply couldn’t help her friend. She gestured toward her leg. “I’m afraid I can’t be of any help, John.”
Suddenly, Wilma became energized. “I’m surprised Edna sent you over here instead of to my haus. Unless, of course, you rode there first and one of my dochders sent you here.”
“Oh, well, uh . . .”
Clearly perplexed as to how to respond, John’s eyes flickered in Bethany’s direction and, for the briefest of moments, lingered on Mary’s daughter. Something lit up in his face, an expression that was not too hard for Mary to read.
And suddenly she had hope.
John cleared his throat and returned his attention to the two older women. “Nee, Wilma,” John said at last. “Maem asked me to come here and inquire directly of Mary.”
“To inquire what, exactly?” Mary probed.
“She was wondering if, mayhaps, Bethany could come in your place.”
Wilma caught her breath and leaned back in her seat with a disgruntled huff. At the same time, Bethany stepped forward, her bare feet making a soft shuffling noise against the hardwood floor. Mary knew her daughter was about to reply to John’s proposition.
Without giving Bethany the chance to speak, Mary quickly responded with a big smile. “Why, John, I think that’s just a wunderbarr gut idea!” She ignored the horrified expression on Bethany’s face, a look of shock sent in Mary’s direction. “You tell your maem that Bethany would be happy to help out while I’m on the mend.”
Chapter Eighteen
When she’d initially answered the door and had seen John Esh standing there, Bethany’s first thought had been that, perhaps, he’d come to visit her. After all, he’d been so kind to her on Friday when he’d taken her to the store and then, after he stopped at the harness shop, brought her home. And, truth be told, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. With those piercing blue eyes and his quiet, soft-spoken sense of humor, John Esh was not someone that anyone could forget easily, she thought.
But when he asked, “Is your maem here, Bethany?” immediately she flushed, feeling foolish. What sort of silly girl was she to have even thought that he might come calling? After all, they didn’t really know each other. His kindness the other day meant nothing. He was just a considerate man who had helped her when he’d seen she was in need.
Embarrassed that she’d even thought such a foolish thing, Bethany had lowered her gaze and gestured for him to enter the house.
She had remained standing in the shadows while John spoke with her mother. But when she heard the reason why he had come—to relay Edna’s request for Bethany to work in her mother’s place—Bethany almost lurched forward to decline.
But she didn’t quite make it before she heard her mother accept on Bethany’s behalf.
Her mouth opened, staring agape at her mother. Why on earth would her mother do something like that to her? Why would she commit Bethany to not only working outside of the house but to interacting with Englischers?
John slid his straw hat through his hands. “Maem will be right pleased,” he managed to say.
“You know, Edna could’ve just called,” Wilma snapped, clearly out of sorts that her daughters hadn’t been asked.
“Ah, about that.” John took a deep breath. “She was wondering if Bethany might come early Wednesday morning.”
Bethany practically squeaked when she said, “This Wednesday?”
Once again, John looked at her, his eyes holding her gaze. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
She wanted to say no, but in her heart, she knew that she couldn’t. And it wasn’t just because John stood there asking her. It was because she knew how horrible her mother felt about not being able to fulfill her promise to help Edna. But the idea of working for Edna in a house filled with strangers petrified Bethany. If only she could say no.
And then it dawned on her that she had a way out. After all, her bicycle hadn’t been fixed yet.
“Oh. I almost forgot. My bicycle. The tire’s flat and the rim is bent.” She glanced at John before she looked at her mother. “Reckon I can’t help Edna after all, Maem.”
John raised an eyebrow at her.
Surely he was wondering why she hadn’t told her mother about the damaged bicycle tire. And if he realized that she hadn’t shared that information with her mother, then he also knew that she hadn’t told her parents about John rescuing her.
Bethany’s heart fluttered as she remembered the time they had spent together, mostly in silence but with some light conversation, especially when he took her to the grocery store and even accompanied her inside. He’d pushed the small cart and waited patiently as Bethany put items into the cart. And then, after she’d paid, he had carried the box to his buggy.
No, she hadn’t shared any of that with her parents. For some reason, she had wanted to keep it private, a sweet memory that she could revisit over and over again in her mind.
She thought she saw a hint of a smile at the corner of John’s lips. “Oh ja? It’s broken? Mayhaps I can take a look at it and get it fixed. In the meantime,” he said, “I could pick you up in the morning and bring you back in the afternoon when I return from work.”
“Oh!” She didn’t know how she was going to get out of this one. “But that’s too much to ask.”
John’s lips twitched. “Nee, Bethany. In fact, after a long day at the auction haus, it would be nice to enjoy some more pleasant company for a change.”
Stunned, Bethany simply stared at him. She could look at it one of two ways: either John Esh was asking her to ride with him—something she’d never done before!—or he was merely being helpful.
When she realized that he was waiting for a response, Bethany pressed her lips together. Why did her mouth feel so dry? “Oh . . . I . . .” She glanced at her mother. “I’m sure that’s too much of a bother.”
“Bethany . . .” Her mother gave her a stern look. “We promised to help Edna,” Mary said.
No, you promised, Bethany thought. If only she had the courage to actually say those words.
She didn’t.
John grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “Then it’s settled. I’ll come fetch you Wednesday morning, Bethany.” The way he enunciated her name made Bethany suspect his request to provide her transportation was not merely to be helpful. “After morning chores.” He backed toward the door. “Say eight?”
No words escaped Bethany’s mouth. What could she say? Her mother had already committed her, not just to working for Edna, but also to accepting a ride from John.
“Danke, John,” her mother finally said.
Bethany waited until he had finally left the kitchen—an act which took him much longer than she’d have thought possible. He kept smiling at her as he backed up until he bumped into the edge of the table. A blush covered his cheeks and he scooted to the side, continuing his retreat from the house.
Once the door shut and his footsteps faded d
own the porch steps, Bethany turned to her mother, not caring that Wilma was still there.
“Maem! How could you?”
Her mother’s shoulders lifted in a soft shrug. “How could I what?”
“You should’ve spoken to me in private,” Bethany cried out. “I’d have declined.”
Wilma made a scoffing noise. “I can’t believe it. She does talk,” she mumbled.
Mary frowned at her friend and then turned to Bethany, an expression of satisfaction instead of regret upon her face. “I know that, Dochder. And that’s exactly why I committed you.”
Bethany slumped against the kitchen counter, her chin practically touching her chest. She couldn’t understand why her mother would do such a thing to her. Work at Edna’s? With the Englischers? The idea of interacting with them terrified her. How many times had her father told her to avoid Englische tourists?
“You always kept me away from Englischers,” she said at last, her voice soft and mild.
“When you were younger, ja, we did.”
Somehow, she found the nerve to look at her mother. “And now you’re asking me to help Edna serve them?”
Her mother patted the seat beside her, and reluctantly, Bethany crossed the room. Once she sat down, her mother reached out for her hand. She held it loosely in her own. “Bethany, Edna needs the help. The holidays are busy for everyone. You’re doing her a big favor . . . and me, too.”
Inwardly, Bethany wanted to groan. She wanted to help Edna, but she much preferred doing it from the comfort of her own home.
“And that John,” Mary continued. “What a good-hearted man he is, offering to pick you up and bring you back. That’ll make it easier on you.”
Wilma made a funny noise and mumbled, “Mayhaps that’s not the main reason for his offer.”
Ignoring Wilma’s comment, Mary added, “Besides, it’s high time you began to interact with other young people.”
She felt her mother give her hand a soft squeeze.
“It’s only until the holidays. You’ll help Edna Tuesday through Saturday, Bethany,” her mother said.
“Five days?” Her voice practically squeaked. She’d never been away from her parents’ house for so many days in a row. And who would do all of their chores? Surely not her mother, not with a broken leg.
“Oh, Maem! Please don’t make me do it,” she pleaded.
“It won’t be so bad. Edna will do most of the talking, but she needs help setting up, serving, and clearing the dishes. And baking, too. You’ll be home every day before you know it.”
But Bethany wasn’t so easily convinced. She couldn’t think of anything worse than having to serve people, especially Englische tourists.
Chapter Nineteen
There was an unusual energy in the Esh kitchen on Wednesday morning.
Edna first noticed something was off during breakfast. John appeared distracted and poked at his food. In fact, his quiet mood seemed to fill the entire kitchen. Jeremiah and Jonas ate in silence while John barely ate anything. Edna worried that something was wrong with her oldest son. Normally he’d be in a jovial mood, especially since he had taken off work that week to help his father with some projects. Today, however, something was clearly on his mind.
“I can’t believe it’s December already,” she commented. “Before you know it, Christmas will be right upon us.”
No one responded.
Sighing, she looked at John. “How fortunate that you’re off work for another week.”
He gave a slight nod and mumbled. “Ja.”
She raised an eyebrow. Something was definitely weighing on his mind.
Jeremiah, however, didn’t seem to notice. He nudged his oldest brother. “I’ll say it’s fortunate. Now you can do my chores.”
Instead of laughing or teasing his brother back, John remained silent.
If Elmer noticed anything unusual about how quiet everyone was at the kitchen table, he didn’t comment. Instead, he focused on the things that needed to be done around the farm that day.
“After breakfast, I want to head out to the back pasture and clear those trees from the perimeter.”
Jeremiah reached for another piece of toast and slathered butter across it. “Why?”
Edna sipped her coffee. She hadn’t heard any discussion about clearing trees, so she, too, was taken by surprise.
“Need to cut them down, sell the wood, and prepare the soil for planting in the spring,” was Elmer’s solemn reply.
Edna’s mouth opened. Her first thought was to comment about what a loss that would be to the farm. Those trees always provided a windbreak from the winter winds and summer storms. And they also shielded the farm from the new development on the other side. Elmer had always claimed that he’d never cut down those trees.
But she thought twice before speaking her mind. Clearly Elmer was thinking beyond the holidays and well into the future. More land meant more crops, and that meant more income. Saying what she truly thought—that it was a mistake—would only make Elmer feel worse about having made the decision at all.
“I’ll need all you boys helping.” Elmer pointed his fork at Jonas and Jeremiah. “And that means both of you.”
“But John’s here!” Jonas said. “He took off to help you. Why do you need us?”
John looked up and stared at his brother. Edna noticed the quizzical look on his face right away.
Elmer frowned. “Enough of that, Jonas. You’ll help me right after breakfast. Besides, John’s going to fetch Bethany first, so don’t think you’re getting out of your chores.”
Jonas grumbled under his breath.
Jeremiah, however, made a face. “Who’s Bethany?”
“Mary Ropp’s dochder. She’s coming to help me, and she starts today,” Edna explained. “And your bruder volunteered to pick her up and bring her back so she doesn’t have to bicycle such a distance. It’s getting colder out, you know.”
Elmer shoved his chair back from the table, indicating that he was finished with the meal. “We’ve a lot of work to do, and the more hands, the better.” As he stood, he smiled at Edna and gave a simple nod of appreciation for the meal. “Mayhaps a pot of coffee in a few hours? Warms a fellow up.”
“Of course.”
She watched as Elmer trudged to the door, pausing for his heavy coat and hat. His shoulders slumped, just enough for her to notice. She wondered how he was coping, carrying such weight on them.
Reluctantly, Jonas and Jeremiah stood up and followed their father outside.
To Edna’s surprise, John lingered in the kitchen, even offering to help set up the long tables and folding chairs. The cows had already been milked and the horses fed. Yet John was clearly not as eager as usual to join his brothers and father in the dairy to clean the equipment or muck the manure.
“You always serve the same food to your guests,” he commented.
“It’s easier that way.” She plopped the freshly peeled potatoes into the pot of salted water. “Although I do change it up a bit. Otherwise it would be boring for me to cook. Sometimes chicken, other times ham. Although most Englischers prefer the chicken. But the side dishes are usually the same: potatoes, chow chow, canned beets, and sliced bread.”
He gestured toward the container on the cabinet. “Or rolls.”
“Ja, rolls. Englischers sure do love their bread.”
“No more so than we do, Maem.”
“I reckon that’s true.” Plop. One more potato tossed into the pot. “Hard work needs a lot of fuel to refill the tank.” She glanced at him. “I’d think you, of anyone, would know that.”
“Hm.”
Edna frowned. It wasn’t like John to be so somber. Usually he was the one she could count on to make jokes and tease her. But not today.
“Everything all right?” she asked, hating to probe but her concern outweighing her usual commitment to her sons’ privacy.
He shook his head. “Nee, just thinking.”
“About?”
; “Farming sure is a lot of hard work, don’t you think?”
Edna froze. Had John overheard her conversations with Elmer over the past few months? Was he worried about the fact that the dairy market was in such poor shape? She knew that he had aspirations of taking over the farm one day.
“Well,” she began slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I suspect that any job a person tackles is hard work.”
“You were raised on a farm, ja?”
Edna couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, John. You know that to be true! Why are you asking me?”
He shrugged. “Just curious. I mean, if you hadn’t been raised on a farm, would you have adapted okay?”
“We can adapt to any situation we want to,” she replied.
He seemed to ponder that and then, satisfied with her answer, nodded. “Ja, that’s what I thought.” He glanced at the clock and then mumbled something under his breath before hurrying outside.
Not fifteen minutes passed before she heard the horse neighing in the barnyard, followed by the wheels of the buggy on the unpaved driveway. And from the sound of it, the horse was definitely trotting. She began to pull out a few pots and pans that she needed for making the soup. Within minutes, she forgot about John and the strange questions he’d been asking her. Instead, she focused on the task at hand: preparing the food for the week and getting ready to instruct Bethany how to best help her.
Chapter Twenty
Mary couldn’t help but notice how Bethany kept pacing around the kitchen, her black sneakers making a shuffling sound against the linoleum floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. The noise was starting to get on Mary’s nerves, but she thought twice about saying as much. Clearly Bethany was nervous enough without Mary adding to her stress.
“It’ll be fine,” Mary said softly.
“Hm?” Bethany stopped pacing long enough to look at her mother.
Mary gave her an encouraging smile. “Working for Edna. It’ll be fine.”
Without a word, Bethany began pacing once again.
If only Bethany were more open to trying new things, Mary thought.
At her daughter’s age, Mary had been shy, too, but nothing like Bethany. In fact, Mary had enjoyed going to singings with her small group of friends. She loved singing hymns, especially when the boys tried to sing them faster than they were sung at church. It seemed risqué at the time, which, in hindsight, made Mary laugh to herself. How could singing a song faster be a sin?
