by Sarah Price
Maem sighed. “It’s bad enough that we’ve been displaced from our home, but I know for a fact that your daed requested for John to take care of us. It was his last wish before he died.”
Eleanor tried to remain stoic. The memory of Fanny complaining to John still lingered in her mind. She knew better than to share that information, so rather than respond to her mother’s heartbreaking confession, she chose to remain calm and say nothing.
Her mother did not need any fodder to continue. She appeared to have enough to complain about without Eleanor adding more fuel to the fire. “As it is now,” she continued, “we are living like paupers and working like slaves. For what? The right to live in our home? Separated from each other? And what do you think will happen when Edwin leaves? You’ll be back to working like a man in the dairy and fields, and what kind of life is that for you? And Mary Ann? She’ll have to cut back her hours at the garden center, for sure and certain, especially when Maggie returns to school. I can’t do all of the gardening and chores by myself.”
Eleanor could argue nothing on behalf of Fanny. While she knew there were two sides to every story, in this case, Fanny had left no room for compassion. Still, Eleanor couldn’t make sense of her mother’s comments. To leave the grossdaadihaus to move somewhere else would certainly mean more expenses for the family. There was something else amiss.
“Please tell me what is truly bothering you, Maem,” Eleanor coaxed softly. “It’s better to air it all now than to let it fester like an uncleaned wound, ja?”
Maem stood up from the table and began to pace the kitchen floor, wringing her hands before her. Whatever was bothering her, Eleanor suspected it had been building for quite some time. “You know your daed did not leave his estate properly prepared. He told me that John was to give me some money and instructed me on how to live off the interest. Fanny must have learned about it, for John has not held true to his promise to your daed on his deathbed. She probably thinks having us live here in the grossdaadihaus is more than enough.”
Holding her breath, Eleanor waited for her mother to continue rather than comment on what was already spoken.
“And truth be told, Eleanor, I just cannot take one more second in her company. I know I should love my neighbor, and I pray myself to sleep that I can find it in my heart to do so. The airs that she puts on! It’s a wonder the bishop hasn’t caught wind of it and spoken with John. I’m sure that will be coming soon.”
The door opened, and on glancing over her shoulder, Eleanor saw her sisters approach them. Both of their cheeks glistened and Maggie was out of breath. From the glow on their faces Eleanor knew they must have been out walking, something Mary Ann often wanted to do, almost always dragging Maggie alongside her.
“Such serious faces!” Mary Ann said as she walked to the kitchen sink carrying a basket of tomatoes from her garden. She set it on the counter and walked over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water. “I hope nothing has happened.”
Eleanor sighed. “Maem wants us to move.”
Mary Ann gasped, and Maggie jumped in the air, cheering at the news.
“Maggie, calm down,” Maem said, a gentle reprimand to remind her youngest daughter that she was not only indoors but behaving like a hooligan.
Mary Ann laughed. “Oh, Maem! Don’t stop her! If I wasn’t almost eighteen, I’d jump and cheer too!”
“And you’d be scolded just the same!” But Maem’s eyes glowed, most likely from the enthusiasm displayed by both daughters.
Maggie reached out for Mary Ann’s cup and refilled it with water for herself. When she finished, she dropped the cup into the sink and skipped over to the table. “Where shall we live, then? Shall we move to Indiana? Or what about Colorado? Doesn’t that sound so exciting?”
“With that Troyer fellow’s settlement?” Mary Ann made a face. “There’s only thirty or so families there, Maggie. And The Budget stories make it sound rather dull. Hardly any visitors and certainly not a lot of suitors . . . or friends, in your case . . . to pick from.”
“Colorado! Whatever would make you think of that?” Eleanor smiled as Maggie slid onto the chair beside her.
A simple shrug was the only response. But Eleanor knew the root cause of Maggie’s suggestion. She loved studying geography, often drawing her own maps of the farms in their neighborhood. When school was in session, she often asked to borrow the teacher’s atlas and had even requested permission to bring it home over their summer break. She loved to listen to Mary Ann or Maem read The Budget newspaper and then find on the maps the different Amish communities mentioned there.
Colorado seemed exotic and exciting to the twelve-year-old. But Eleanor agreed with Mary Ann. Without a farm or vocation, they would have few options for making a living there, and since everything was spread out, it would most likely be rather dull.
“You’re going to have to hitch your horse a bit closer to home, Maggie,” Eleanor said. “Maem’s cousin has a cottage that is sitting vacant on their property.” She lifted the letter from the table and held it out for Mary Ann to take. “They live south of Nickel Mines.”
Mary Ann hesitated, as if digesting this news, before she took the letter. “Quarryville?” Her eyes scanned the letter. “That’s quite far from Manheim, almost fifty miles, ain’t so?”
Maggie reached for the letter. “Where is Quarryville anyway?” She didn’t bother to read it after Mary Ann handed it to her. “Will I have to go to school there?”
“Ja, silly goose!” Eleanor nudged her with her elbow. “You have two years left.”
Groaning, Maggie flopped forward and rested her forehead atop the table.
“When are we to move, Maem?” Mary Ann asked.
“As soon as possible. School starts the first week of September, and it’s better to start fresh,” she said, her lips pressed together firmly, “and with family that genuinely wants us.”
Later that evening, as both Detweiler families and Edwin sat around the picnic table enjoying a family meal together, Maem made the announcement. It was met with mixed reactions. Eleanor kept her eyes on her plate, her appetite having fled even before she dished food onto it. While the rest of the family enjoyed the fried chicken, corn salad, and sliced tomatoes, fresh off the vine, Eleanor had merely picked at her food, dreading the moment when her mother would share the news.
That moment was now.
Edwin dropped his fork and turned to look directly at Eleanor. “Moving? To Quarryville?”
Fanny, however, seemed rather pleased. “I think a cottage sounds quaint, don’t you, John?”
“Quaint, indeed.” He nodded his head and took another bite of food.
“And when will this move take place?” Edwin asked. He continued to stare at her, a concerned look in his eyes. “Autumn? Winter?”
“Sooner than that, I’m afraid,” Maem responded. “Maggie needs to be settled in for school, and as it stands, we have imposed on your sister Fanny long enough.”
At the mention of her name, Fanny glanced up, apparently not noticing the edge of sarcasm in Maem’s voice.
“I’m . . . I’m sure it’s no imposition at all.” He looked at his sister and gave her a stern look. “Right, Fanny?”
“I certainly would understand if they’d like to get situated before the winter months,” Fanny responded. “Especially if the cottage is available now. It might not be available in a few months’ time, ja?”
Edwin looked as crestfallen as Eleanor felt.
“You are all invited to visit us,” Maem said, addressing both John and Fanny. Without even giving them time to respond, for they all highly doubted that either one would ever visit, Maem shifted in her chair to look at Edwin. “You too, Edwin. You will always have a place at our table.”
He nodded his head but committed to nothing more. Instead, like Eleanor, he stared down at his plate, apparently as unhappy about this change of circumstance as she was.
Chapter Seven
ONCE THE DECISION was made and announced, the move its
elf happened quickly. Within a week most of the items that Fanny permitted them to take—for she lorded over them while they packed—were contained in just a few suitcases and boxes.
“The sewing machine table belongs here with the haus,” she had said when Maggie started to move it toward the kitchen area.
Indignant at the claim, Mary Ann stepped forward. “How so, Fanny?”
“It belonged to John’s grandmother,” was the simple reply.
“She was our grandmother too!” Mary Ann retorted.
“Mary Ann,” Maem said softly, “let it stay.”
Triumphantly, Fanny walked over to the piece, a beautiful maple table with iron wheels and foot pedals. When Fanny examined it, she frowned and lifted the corner of her apron as if to wipe away a smudge left behind from Maggie’s hand. “What use would you have for such a fine piece of furniture anyway?” Fanny said, her eyes still on the sewing stand. “You have Eleanor’s regular sewing table anyway.”
Clearly resentful of Fanny, Mary Ann could not resist asking, “Perhaps you’d like to keep that too, Fanny?”
Fanny’s mouth opened and she glowered at her sister-in-law. “Such insolence! I certainly do not have need for two sewing tables!” Still, she had remained behind to oversee the packing, laying claim to more items than she granted permission to leave the property.
On the day of the move a Mennonite driver arrived with a pickup truck. Edwin knocked at the door of the grossdaadihaus to alert them to the man’s arrival.
“I’ll help you load up the boxes and furniture,” he said when he entered the room. He looked at the small number of boxes that waited on the counter. “Is there more upstairs, then?”
Mary Ann started to say something, but suspecting that it would not be kind toward Fanny, Eleanor nudged her with her shoe.
“Just two suitcases of clothing and linens, I believe.” Eleanor started to walk up the stairs to retrieve them. To her surprise Edwin offered to help her.
Once in the bedroom Eleanor felt self-conscious that she was alone with him. She hurried over to the bed (for Fanny insisted that they must buy new and leave the bed frames and mattresses behind) and started to pick up the one suitcase that contained her mother’s dresses. She felt Edwin stand behind her. Turning around, she gave him a nervous smile and tried to step aside so that he could retrieve the other suitcase.
“Eleanor,” he said, his eyes glancing at her and then down at the floor. “There is something I’ve been meaning to say to you . . . ”
For a moment Eleanor felt a quickening of her pulse. The way that he appeared so skittish and anxious made her wonder if, mayhaps, he might have something on his mind besides the move. “Oh?” She set the suitcase down on the floor and stood before him, her eyes searching his face as she waited patiently for Edwin to speak up.
“I . . . ” He hesitated and shuffled his feet. “You see . . . ”
“Eleanor!” Mary Ann called up the stairs. “Hurry up. Maem needs your help with moving the kitchen table. Are you up there?”
Edwin forced a smile and stepped back. “I suppose it can wait,” he mumbled as he bent over to pick up the suitcase at his feet.
Disappointed, Eleanor looked away.
Whatever it was that Edwin wanted to tell her would have to wait, just as she would, for she had no idea when she would have an opportunity to talk with him again. She listened to him carry the suitcase down the stairs before she retrieved the second bag from the bed. With one final look around the room that had, at one time, been her grandparents’ and was supposed to have been her parents’ when they grew older together, she hoisted the bag so that she could carry it out of the room and down the stairs, traveling the very same steps Edwin had just taken. Two steps behind, she thought as she dragged the bag down the stairs. Always two steps behind.
The cottage in Quarryville was smaller than Eleanor anticipated. Made of old gray stone and dating back to the late 1700s, it had low ceilings, and the small windows let in little light. The narrow porch ran the length of the house, while a simple split-rail fence separated the house from the road. But with its three bedrooms, two upstairs and one downstairs, there was at least room for all of them to sleep comfortably.
The living area was just one large room, with a walk-in fireplace on the north side and a narrow wooden staircase along the south wall, as well as the entry to the downstairs bedroom. Along the side where the morning sun would rise were two windows and a door. When opened, the door barely missed brushing against the bottom step. The windows and their wide sills were covered in layers of dirt and bird droppings, but they were large and welcomed sunshine into the room.
Eleanor wandered over to the kitchen area, stepping over leaves and sticks that must have blown into the cottage from a door left open. If cousin Jacob had cleared out the rubbish and debris, she could only imagine what it had looked like beforehand. Discouraged, but refusing to show it, she ran her finger along the dusty counter and the top of the wood-burning stove. Bending down, she opened one of the oven doors and noticed that, at least, had been cleaned out by the previous residents of the cottage.
The bathroom was located underneath the stairs, the door hidden in rich wainscoting. An attractive feature, Eleanor thought, and that was the only positive thought she had as she assessed their new home.
Maggie dashed up the stairs, eager to explore the three bedrooms. The sound of her shoes on the wooden floor echoed in the silence of the first floor. Maem stood there, her eyes wide and her cheeks pale. Mary Ann, however, wasted no time in sharing her opinion of their new residence.
“There’s so many spiders!” Mary Ann complained, swiping her hand at the cobwebs in the doorway to the pantry. “And definitely mice.” She pointed to one of the shelves where rodent droppings lay in abundance.
“Oh, help,” Maem muttered under her breath. “Don’t let Maggie know. Surely she’ll want to capture them and keep one for a pet!”
Deciding to take charge, Eleanor hurried over to the kitchen window and unlatched and opened it. She shut her eyes as she leaned toward it, breathing in the fresh air that immediately started clearing the musty smell in the small cottage.
Maggie ran back downstairs and joined Eleanor at the window. “I reckon I’ll take the small bedroom,” she said, a disappointed tone in her voice.
“That’s a good girl,” Eleanor responded, placing her hand on her sister’s shoulders. She knew how disappointed they felt, for she felt the same. But with the way that their father had left the estate, they had few options. At least here they would be free of Fanny and her constant criticisms.
“Maem,” Eleanor said, trying to sound cheerful, “there’s a lovely view here of the meadow. And I find the kitchen rather cozy, don’t you, Maggie?”
“Mayhaps when it’s fixed up.” Maggie stood on her tippy toes to peer out the window. “But I do like the climbing trees that line the lane.”
Eleanor smiled at her. “I noticed those too, Maggie!”
“May I go try them?”
While Eleanor would have preferred Maggie to offer her help in cleaning up their new home, she couldn’t deny such an innocent request from her youngest sister who, truly, suffered the most from the move, having to adjust to a new school, new friends, and a new lifestyle. “Mayhaps for a spell, but then come back to help unpack, ja?”
Maggie needed no further encouragement before darting out the open door.
“Ja, vell,” Eleanor said after taking a deep breath, “seems we have much to do, then.”
Mary Ann stepped over an empty crate that had been left in the middle of the room and opened another window. There were no screens to keep out the bugs, and she wiped off the dusty windowsill with the edge of her apron before leaning outside. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she cried. “Take a look at this garden!” She pointed toward the lane where Maggie was already trying to climb a tree. “That hasn’t been tended for at least a hundred years! The weeds are as big as the house!”
Curious,
Eleanor hurried across the room and peered over Mary Ann’s shoulder. For once her sister was neither exaggerating nor being overly dramatic. Weeds had grown so high that, on entering the cottage, Eleanor had mistaken them for planted shrubbery. Vines wove through the fencing and crawled up the corner of the house, wrapping themselves around the chimney. “Oh dear.”
“Maem!” Mary Ann turned toward her mother, her eyes large and pleading. “As awful as Fanny is, must we truly live here?”
Maem seemed to contemplate Mary Ann’s question, her brow wrinkling and her eyes glazing over. For a moment Eleanor thought her mother might actually cry, and sensing the frustration that was bubbling to the surface, she smiled and clapped her hands together.
“Now, now, let’s make the most of it!” Eleanor moved away from the window and the awful view of the overgrown garden. She assessed the large room and took a deep breath. Keeping everyone busy would help calm rattled nerves and thwart any emotional outbursts regarding the sorry state of their new living accommodations. “Let’s focus on the kitchen, shall we? I’ll scrub the floors, Mary Ann can wash the windows and sills, and Maem can focus on the shelves. We’ll be unpacked and ready for supper before the sun realizes it is time to set!”
With jobs assigned, the trio of women worked, the silence broken only by the noise of water running and rags being dipped into buckets. Eleanor tried to keep her mind focused on positive thoughts, knowing that if she didn’t, she too might succumb to the feelings of despair that her mother and sister felt. After all, not only had she left the only home that she had ever known, but she had also left Edwin.
Eleanor wiped the sweat from her brow and leaned back on her heels. She tried to forget his reaction when he heard they were moving to Quarryville. His face had given away his emotions, and for the first time, Eleanor realized how Mary Ann’s observations, while premature, had been more accurate than she had allowed.
“I must visit then,” Edwin had said to her later that evening, his head dipped so that their foreheads almost touched as they stood by the edge of the cornfield. “Mayhaps when I am finished here? In two weeks?”
