Amish Generations

by Kathleen Fuller

  As he left the restaurant, he noticed that his father had put a sign in the front window. Waitress wanted. They had only two waitresses, Sarah and Beulah. He wondered which one was leaving. They were both young, and usually when they lost help, it was because someone was getting married. His father hired only Amish waitresses, so the turnover had always been steady.

  He headed home, Jemima on his mind again. She’d been away from her family for almost a year, but nothing had changed, at least that he could see—probably because she’d still been the babysitter, cook, and housekeeper for her sister Julia’s family. That was obviously needed since Julia was so sick. And he knew Jemima wouldn’t have hesitated to help her. But when would Jemima live for herself?

  Waitress wanted.

  He halted his steps right before his driveway and groaned as a thought came to him. Nee. That’s a bad idea. A terrible idea. One that might help Jemima but would open a gigantic can of worms for him. He was already facing an uphill challenge with his father. Why was he coming up with another problem?

  But a still, small voice spoke inside him. He recognized that voice, and he groaned again. Then he turned on his heel and headed for Jemima’s house.

  Chapter 5

  Jemima wiped her brow with the back of her hand, then sat back on her knees and tossed the washrag into the bucket of water sitting beside her. Washing floorboards wasn’t a piece of cake, but hard work had never bothered her. And she’d done it dozens of times. After her mother had humiliated her at the diner that morning, though, her asking Jemima to wash the floors stuck in her craw. No, it was more than that. Her mother seemed eager to dump the chore on her, and with every swipe of the wet rag, she grew more resentful.

  She chastised herself. Her mother wasn’t that hard of a taskmaster, although she didn’t like to do housework. Jemima had always preferred things neat and tidy, so growing up she often did the chores her mother didn’t enjoy—sweeping the floors, dusting the furniture, washing the walls. But scrubbing floorboards was something neither of them liked. On top of that, when she left for her eye appointment, Mamm informed her she would be visiting Jemima’s cousin Ruth before coming home.

  She yanked the rag out of the bucket and wrung it out, then continued to clean the boards as quickly as possible while still doing a thorough job. She was almost finished when she heard a knock on the front door. She got up from the floor, her knees creaking a bit, and dropped the rag in the bucket. She arched her back a little as she went to the door, then wiped one hand on her apron before opening it.

  “Hi, Jemima.”

  Great. This was all she needed, a visit from him. “Everett.”

  He put his hands behind his back. His clothes were stained as if he’d walked here straight from work.

  “What do you want?” The words flew out of her mouth, and she pressed her lips together. While she’d been grateful that he hadn’t made her feel bad about spilling the syrup, and she had thanked him by writing a note, that didn’t mean the past was instantly erased.

  “Pleasant as always.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She agreed, but kept her mouth shut.

  Then he looked directly at her. “May I talk to you about something? I promise it won’t take long.”

  She should just slam the door in his face, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. Instead, she nodded and stepped out on the front porch, shutting the door behind her. The wood planks warmed her bare feet, but she didn’t move more than a couple of steps from the threshold, even though she couldn’t help noticing once again how handsome Everett was—even more so than when they were younger. Never mind that his clothes were covered in food stains and he smelled like grease, onions, and bleach. He was by far the most attractive man she’d ever known.

  Jemima drew in a sharp breath, reining in her thoughts. He wasn’t welcome here, at least by her. From the way her mother acted around him, it was obvious she had long ago forgiven Everett for what he’d done to Jemima. If only I could do the same. Then again, she’d never told her mother any details about what happened.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, forcing herself to be curt. “I’m listening.”

  “Daed’s advertising for a waitress.”

  “Okay.”

  He blew out a breath. “I thought you might want the job.”

  She dropped her arms. After the initial shock, she squinted at him. He’d smashed her heart into a thousand pieces, and now he was offering her a job? “Why would you think I’d ever, ever want to work with you?”

  He hung his head, then lifted his gaze to her. “Technically, you wouldn’t be working with me. You’d be working above me.”

  She frowned. “Huh?”

  “A waitress gets paid more than a busboy.” His lips flattened. “Between the wage and tips, you can make decent money.”

  “Do I look poor to you?” she snapped, then guilt washed over her. Being poor or rich wasn’t supposed to matter to her as an Amish woman. But her pride rose up anyway. “I don’t need charity.”

  “This isn’t charity. It’s a job.” He scowled. “I see you’re still the mixed-up maedel you always were.”

  “Mixed up?”

  “You’re so beholden to what yer parents and familye want from you that you don’t know who you are. Or what you want.” He shook his head. “I would have thought by now you’d be married—or at least living yer own life.”

  Anger boiled within her. “How dare you say that to me, after what you did? You don’t know me, Everett Wengerd. You never have.” She unfolded her arms and clenched her hands into fists. “You can take yer job and . . . and . . . Ugh!”

  She whirled around and went inside, slamming the door in his face—which should have felt good since she’d imagined doing something similar all these years.

  But it didn’t.

  She leaned against the door, a lump forming in her throat. She wasn’t mixed up. Was she? She loved her family, and she had always wanted to be there for them. She’d been her siblings’ second mother, her mother’s assistant. And even her father had depended on her when he and Mamm decided to take a trip to Michigan with her sisters three years ago. She’d made all the meals, cleaned the house, tended the garden, cared for her nieces and nephews . . .

  Jemima closed her eyes. Those three weeks had been exhausting.

  Another knock sounded at the door. Soft, as if whoever was on the other side was unsure if knocking was acceptable. “Who is it?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

  “Everett.”

  Her eyes opened a little. “Now what?”

  “If you won’t take the job because of me, I’ll quit the restaurant.”

  She paused, letting his words soak in. He’d quit once, and it had caused a rift between him and his father. Now he was willing to do it again. For me. Which didn’t make one bit of sense.

  She gave her head a quick shake. Whatever Everett did was his business, not hers. But she wasn’t going to be the reason he left the restaurant again. She wasn’t about to be his scapegoat. “You’re not the reason.”

  “But you’re angry with me.”

  “I’m . . .” She frowned. Why couldn’t she admit how she felt? He’d already guessed anyway. But somehow she couldn’t say the words out loud, couldn’t say them to him.

  “Or is it that you’re angry with yerself?” Before she could reply, he added, “Don’t get in yer own way, Jemima. You did that once before.”

  Now she was furious. He was always telling her how she should feel, what she should do—and she was tired of it. From him, and from everyone else. Balling her hands into fists again, she shouted, “Just geh, Everett!” When she didn’t hear anything, she turned to open the door and yell at him again. But a second later his footsteps faded away.

  She took in a deep breath and straightened, his words echoing in her mind. Angry at herself? She had no idea what he was talking about, and she was sure he didn’t either. He hurt her, not the othe
r way around. He left, she stayed. Why would she be mad at herself for that?

  Then she realized he’d offered her the exact thing she’d planned to find when she returned to Middlefield—a job. But working at the diner? No matter what he said, she would see him there.

  No, she was right to tell him to leave. And now that she thought about it, maybe she didn’t need a job. In Maine, when she and Julia had discussed her finding work outside the house, her sister had thought it was a great idea. “It’s yer turn,” Julia said. “Don’t let Mamm and Daed stop you from doing what’s best for you.”

  “They haven’t stopped me,” she’d said. But hadn’t they? Over the years, when her brothers and sisters had various jobs, her mother always said, “You don’t need a job. There’s plenty here at home to keep you busy.”

  She spied the bucket across the room. Like the floorboards, for example. Was that all her life was going to be? Being available to her parents and siblings whenever they asked? She was single and had never planned to get married after Everett left, even though that’s what was expected of Amish women. She wasn’t the first person to break up with a fiancé. But she vowed not to go through that heartache again. That plan had come to fruition, leaving her free to live her life without worrying about a husband or children. But was this the life she wanted?

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said out loud, then marched over to the bucket to finish scrubbing. Everett had always thought her parents treated her like a personal maid and babysitter. He’d made no secret of his feelings where that was concerned, especially after telling her about a job in Shipshewana he wanted.

  “I want to take you away from all that,” he said.

  “But I love mei familye.” She was torn. How could he even consider leaving Middlefield and moving to another state? She couldn’t imagine being that far from her parents and siblings.

  “I know you do. But I’ve also told you they sometimes take advantage of you.” He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “You and I can have our own familye. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “It is. But why can’t we stay here?” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Why can’t you work for yer vatter like he wants you to?”

  “Because I can’t.” He let go of her hand.

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  The lump in her throat tightened at the memory. He’d changed the subject by kissing her—and he was an amazing kisser—and for the next two days she’d forgotten the conversation. Then he was gone. Without a word or a note. Nothing. And she learned from his mother a week later that he had moved to Indiana, their engagement effectively broken.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the past out of her mind. She’d wanted to marry Everett and have a family more than anything, and she’d thought he wanted the same thing. Apparently, that wasn’t true, and she’d found out in the worst way possible. Now her family was all she had.

  She got up from the floor and took the bucket into the kitchen, where she dumped the dirty water into the sink. Then she washed out the bucket and rinsed out the rag before putting them both in the mudroom. She would wash the rag later this week when she did the laundry. Her mother didn’t enjoy doing laundry either.

  Jemima had just sat down on the couch to take a quick rest before starting supper when she heard another knock on the door. But before she could get up and answer, her sister-in-law Abigail breezed inside, carrying two plastic bags. “Hi,” she said, setting the bags on the coffee table. “Devon told me you were back. Wonderful news about Julia. We’re all thrilled.”

  Nodding, Jemima got up from the couch, glad for some company to keep her mind off Everett and the past. “I was just about to start supper,” she said. “But I can make us a snack, and there’s already some lemonade made.”

  “Oh, I can’t stay.” Abigail smiled, her gaze flitting to the door. “I’ve got to get home and start supper myself. You know yer bruder and his appetite, especially when he gets off work.” She gestured to the bags. “Could you hem the buwe’s pants for me? Two of Amanda’s dresses are in there too. They’re only half finished, but I just don’t have the time.” Her smile turned sweet. “Besides, yer stitches are always perfect.”

  “Uh, I—”

  “Danki, Jemima. I can always count on you for help. I need those by Saturday, though. Earlier if you can. Maybe next week you can come over for a visit. Just not on Monday, Wednesday, or Thursday. I’m busy those days with company. Oh, and Tuesday is also out. But Friday will definitely work.” She opened the door and left.

  Jemima stared at the bags, then at the closed door. She’d been home less than twenty-four hours, and the chores and babysitting were already piling up. She’d go through the clothes after supper and see how much sewing she was in for.

  An hour later, when her supper of pork chops, sauerkraut, and potatoes was nearly done, Mamm finally came home.

  “Oh terrific. You started supper,” she said as she entered the kitchen. “Smells gut.”

  “Actually, it’s almost ready,” Jemima mumbled. She put a bowl of pickled beets on the table.

  Mamm smiled. “I meant to be home earlier, but time gets away from me sometimes.” She patted Jemima on the arm, then removed her bonnet. “Did I tell you how much we missed you?”

  Just as her mother sailed out of the kitchen to put away her bonnet and purse, Daed entered the room. He poured himself a glass of iced tea and sat down at the table. “Where’s yer mutter been?” he asked.

  “She just got back from Ruth’s. She went there after her appointment.”

  “I shouldn’t be surprised she spent the rest of the day there. She loves to visit.”

  As she placed the rest of the meal on the table, she waited for him to ask how her day had been. But Mamm had told him about going to the diner for breakfast when he came home on his lunch break from his job helping Phil Beiler run his furniture store one street over. Then before he left again, after eating a lunch Jemima had prepared for him, she’d started washing the floorboards in the living room. She’d just worked in the house most of the day, and he knew it. Still, being asked would be nice.

  Mamm came back into the kitchen and greeted Daed, then they all sat down and said prayer. When they opened their eyes and Mamm started passing serving dishes, she buzzed about her visit with Ruth and a few other friends who’d been there, telling them the latest news in the district. Then she said, “I saw two bags of clothes in the living room. Kinner clothes.”

  “Abigail dropped them by.” Jemima explained her sister-in-law’s request.

  “You do such nice work,” Mamm said, finishing off the last bite of her beets.

  The compliment should have made her feel good, but for some reason it rang hollow. “I wish she would have asked me first, instead of dropping them off and assuming I had time to do it.”

  Mamm put down her fork, her brow furrowing. “But what else would you do, Jemima? You have plenty of time on yer hands. Yer siblings are busy with work and kinner and their extended families. It’s a blessing to them that you’re able to help.”

  Jemima yanked at the pocket of her apron, feeling the stitches split apart. Great, now she’d have more mending to do. But would she even have time to mend her own clothes? Or would her family continue to assume that she had no life and could be at their beck and call? Would they always expect her to bless them without giving a single thought to the possibility that she might also have plans? Hopes? Even dreams?

  Everett had smashed those dreams, though. Or had he? Don’t get in yer own way, Jemima.

  “What if I had a job?” she blurted. “That would give me something else to do.”

  Mamm’s fork clattered onto the table, and even her father stopped eating long enough to stare at her. “A job?” Mamm said. “You have a job?”

  “You’ve never had a job before,” Daed said, pointing out the obvious. “Not a real one.”

  “I can’t believe you have a job,” Mamm said. “When did this happen?”r />
  “It hasn’t—yet,” she said in a low voice, her stomach churning.

  “Oh.” Mamm looked relieved and continued eating. Her father did the same.

  Jemima gaped at her parents. “Why are you so surprised that I would consider taking a job?”

  “Because you don’t need one,” Daed said, scraping up the pork chop gravy with a bit of bread. “You have everything you need here.”

  “And yer vatter and I don’t need extra money.”

  Jemima agreed with their last point. When her siblings were younger and had jobs, they’d contributed to household expenses. But now with just the three of them here . . . Yet the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t have everything she needed. Something was missing. It had been missing all along.

  “Enough of this job nonsense,” Mamm said.

  “It’s not nonsense. Mei bruders and schwesters all had jobs.”

  “We needed them to work at the time.” Daed looked at her. “And yer mamm needed you here to help with the little ones and around the haus.”

  “You don’t need a job, Jemima,” Mamm repeated, then looked at her. “Oh, and if you’re sewing tonight, would you mind darning yer vatter’s socks?”

  A few more stitches popped from her apron pocket as her future flashed in front of her. Her life would always be like this. She would always be taken for granted. Humility was a key trait among the Amish, but that didn’t mean she had to be a doormat. Her wants and feelings counted. At least she hoped so. Having a job would give her some independence. She would be doing something other than cleaning and watching children.

  But she had to consider something else about taking a job at the restaurant, something even bigger than her urge to change up her life. Everett. Maybe it was because her family was showing its selfish side at the moment, but it suddenly sank in that maybe he’d been sincere when he offered to quit his job so she would take hers. She didn’t know what to do with that.