Breath of Spring (2 page)

Is that such a bad thing? Teacher Alberta told
Dat
years ago that your eyes needed to be checked but he thought ya could keep house and tend the kids without readin’ much . . .

“So Adam wants a short stack with over-easy eggs and ham, does he?”

Naomi’s words brought Annie Mae out of her befuddled state. “
Jah,
and he also ordered—”

“Hannah, the teapots are on that bottom shelf and the bags are beside them,” the cook instructed her daughter. “Adam always wants two bags in his. And if he doesn’t go to the steam table, he generally gets the number four.”

Annie Mae inhaled, hoping to pull herself together before she had to face Adam again. “Ya make this look so simple. I don’t
mean
to mess everything up while I’m figuring out—”

Naomi set down her spatula to grasp Annie Mae’s hand. Miriam’s partner looked calm and motherly, and after these past few years of having to act as her younger siblings’
mamm,
it felt good to be looked after. Cared about.

“In a couple days you’ll know what these fellas usually eat, and you’ll feel like you’ve been workin’ here forever, dearie,” Naomi said warmly. “Always take your time. Folks appreciate it when ya get things right, even if it means they wait a few moments longer.”

“Those are awesome specs, too,” Hannah piped up. She handed over a little silver pot with two tags dangling out the side, which she’d put on a plate. “They’re like
jewelry,
but for your face!”

Annie Mae blinked. She had no idea what Adam’s glasses looked like—and wouldn’t she seem even more clueless if she took them off to find out? “I need all the help I can get, ain’t so?” A nervous laugh escaped her and she flipped back a page of her order pad. “And Preacher Gabe wants an omelet with lots of ham and cheese and onions, and a side of hash browns. And I’ll put two sticky buns in a go box for him.”

“I’ll get that omelet goin’. You’re doin’ just fine, Annie Mae.” Naomi nodded as though she’d just stated the most obvious of facts—as though she truly believed the morning was off to a perfect start.

So maybe you should believe it, too
. After all, she’d kept her father and her five younger siblings fed and dressed after her stepmother had passed. She’d done what she had to do. And she could do it again, now that another crisis had changed her life.

Putting on a resolute smile, Annie Mae took the plate the teapot was on and glanced out the pass-through window. She knew every man in the dining room—not to mention Miriam, Rhoda, and Rebecca. She could
do
this. And she could do it right.

Look out, Short Stack. Ready or not, here I come.

As his brother and the two Kanagy boys returned from the steam table, Adam tried to pretend he hadn’t just humiliated Annie Mae. What had
that
been about? He hadn’t stopped to consider how jangled
his
nerves would feel if someone—say, Annie Mae—had perched a pair of reading glasses on his nose. It would serve him right if she left his breakfast sitting on the serving counter to get cold.

“Sure you don’t want some of those fried apples from the buffet?” Matthias asked as he cut into a biscuit he’d smothered with sausage gravy. Seth and Aaron Brenneman took the other chairs on that side of the table, their plates heaped high.

“Looks like Hannah’s bringin’ out more food,” Nate remarked as he took the chair to Adam’s left. “Cheesy hash brown casserole, and a bunch of bacon.”

“I’m
gut,
thanks. My cakes’ll be here in a few,” Adam said.

Bram dropped into the chair to Adam’s right, and then he murmured, “If Hannah starts givin’ me the eye, don’t egg her on. I got engaged over New Year’s, to a cute little redhead from Cedar Creek. Hannah’s not gonna like that much.”

Adam’s eyes widened. “How’d
that
happen? Seems mighty fast—”

“Oh, and it was contagious,” Nate confided as he leaned toward Adam’s other ear, “on account of how
I’m
engaged to that redhead’s twin sister. And we bought a place between here and Cedar Creek, where Bram and I can set up barns for our businesses. The girls’re gonna run a B and B, soon as their
dat
—who would be none other than Amos Coblentz—builds the four of us a big house with extra guest rooms.”

Adam’s mouth dropped open. “I thought you were swearing off girls, Nate. So—”

“
Jah,
well,
these
girls hit us broadside.” Nate shook his head, grinning like a lovestruck puppy.

“We didn’t see it comin’,” Bram confirmed with a happy-go-lucky shrug. “And we didn’t stand a chance once Mary and Martha set their minds on us. Just something in the air after Christmas, I guess.”

Something in the air . . .
Adam glanced up to catch Annie Mae watching him through the serving window. The chatter and the clang of silverware around him faded away.

He was in for it. Annie Mae wore that same determined expression whenever she corralled her ornery five-year-old twin brothers.

As she strode toward the table with his tea, Adam noticed how the reading glasses accentuated her face. He’d known Annie Mae all his life, yet he’d never realized her eyes were so blue . . . and while the specs gave her a sophisticated, rather scholarly look, Adam sensed she didn’t want to hear that. She had a set to her jaw, a purpose to her gaze rather than the flummoxed, fearful look he’d seen when she’d fled to the kitchen.

“Your food’ll be here
short
ly
,
” Annie Mae announced as she set his teapot in front of him. “Naomi’s cookin’ it up just the way ya like it, Short Stack.”

As she flitted away from the table—and that was the only way to describe how Annie Mae swiveled to grab a carafe and refresh Tom’s and Gabe’s coffee—Adam heard muffled chuckles around him.

“Short Stack, is it?” Matthias teased from across the table.

“Better watch out,” Bram warned. “She and Luke Hooley have been quite the pair—”

“Not to mention that Mennonite guy—Yonnie Stoltzfus—before Luke came to town,” Seth Brenneman pointed out. “I suspect a cartload of fellas’ll be eyeballin’ her now that Hiram’s out of the picture.”

Short Stack, is it?
While Adam had always been the shortest guy in his class—and plenty of folks still teased him about his height—something about Annie Mae’s nickname made him chuckle. Why would a looker like Hiram Knepp’s daughter flirt with
him?
She could see right over the top of his head....

Might as well let this train of thought roll on down the track. No sense in getting interested—flirting back—because being somebody’s husband isn’t part of your plan.

For a moment, a cloud settled over him. Adam didn’t often dwell on that fateful day anymore, but he dared not forget how—had he not been joyriding when he was supposed to be fetching his sister Ruth—Mamm wouldn’t have hitched up a rig . . . wouldn’t have been thrown into the road when her horse spooked . . . wouldn’t have died because he’d been so irresponsible.

Adam blinked. Then he got his heartbeat slowed down again. Checked to see if any of his buddies had noticed his momentary trip down memory lane . . . but they were speculating about which fellow they could convince to distract Hannah from the fact that Bram was now courting a Cedar Creek girl.

“Well, Hannah’s only sixteen, and plenty cute enough,” Matthias stated philosophically. “It’s not like she’s doomed to be a
maidel
because you’ve found another gal to hitch up with, Bram.”

And who will Annie Mae hitch up with?
Adam poured more syrup over his pancakes as he furtively watched her greet an English couple who’d just come in.
Let Luke or Stoltzfus keep her company
, he told himself. He had no business taking up with a girl whose
dat
would probably come back to Willow Ridge to stir up big trouble—a girl who might be taking care of Joey, Josh, Sara, and Timmy for years to come.
Waaay more responsibility than you can handle. And what man wants an instant family to feed and clothe and—

“So, Adam, do ya figure to finish your cakes and eggs anytime today? We can wrap up that kitchen job over past New Haven if we get a move on.” Seth Brenneman chortled at him from across the table, where he, Aaron, and Matthias sat with their empty plates in front of them.

“
Jah, jah,
” Adam muttered as he split his egg yolks with his fork. “Let me sop up these eggs with my last pancake and I’m
gut
to go. Head on over there, if you want. You can fit the countertops before I second-coat the walls.”

With a decisive nod, Aaron stood up to fish out his money. “This being a new year, I’ve decided we can start payin’ for our food, Brother. So I’ll cover yours this morning if you’ll get the tip.”

Seth, too, rose from his chair—a sturdy piece he and his brothers had built in their cabinetry shop, along with the other chairs and the tables, when Miriam and their
mamm
had opened the café. “That’s one of your better ideas,” he teased. “No reason the Sweet Seasons has to keep feedin’ us, when Mamm could be takin’ home wages instead.”

“And what with Hannah and Annie Mae wantin’ to earn some money now,” Nate Kanagy chimed in, “it wouldn’t hurt us to pay, either—even if Aunt Miriam did say we’d get our breakfast in exchange for the veggies Mamm grows in her truck garden. So you can go first, Bram! Fork it over.”

Bram laughed. “I can do that—and I’ll be leavin’ Annie Mae a nice tip, too,” he said as he tossed three dollar bills on the table. “So where’s
your
tip, Nate?”

His older brother tucked four dollars under his empty coffee mug. “Never let it be said that I shorted a friend in need,” he murmured as he glanced toward the checkout counter. “She’s holdin’ her own today. Pullin’ her weight—and we all know she’s not nearly over the hump.”

Across the table, Matthias stood up and slipped his money clip from his jacket pocket. “I’ll match Nate’s tip and raise it,” he murmured. “See ya when ya get home tonight, Adam.”

“I’ve got a quick fix-it job for Lydia Zook after I finish up with the Brennemans,” he replied.

“Bring us home something easy for supper, then, since you’ll be at the market.”

Adam sighed as he stood up. He and his brother muddled by on mac and cheese, lunch meat, and whatever else required little cooking, now that it was just the two of them. With Matthias’s wife dying from an asthma attack while she was carrying their first child, they led a quiet life....

When Annie Mae laughed, Adam saw her grin as Ben Hooley and Preacher Gabe chatted with her at the front counter. With her black hair and blue eyes, she was a striking girl—even with his cheap reading glasses perched on her nose. And despite her penchant for more brazen, free-spirited fellows, she was a hardworking young woman who could keep a household together. Her desserts and bread had occasionally graced the Wagler table after Mamm and Sadie had passed.

Keep on rolling,
he reminded himself. Now that the house on Bishop’s Ridge sat empty, he and Matthias wouldn’t be finding any more goodies on their porch swing.

He toted up the tips the other five fellows had left her, somewhat surprised that Matthias’s had come to nearly as much as his meal had. But it was for a good cause, wasn’t it? And didn’t the Amish help their own?

Adam pulled out a ten-spot. He wouldn’t be this generous every morning, but on Annie Mae’s first day she deserved a boost. He stacked all the other money in the center of the table and then slipped his beneath it, however, so she wouldn’t know how much any one of them had given her.

When Annie Mae returned to the table where the two English couples were eating, Adam headed to the front counter to pay. The Sweet Seasons was filling up now that it was nearly seven o’clock, and he nodded to a couple of farmers he’d done some remodeling for. Friendly chatter and the clatter of silverware filled the dining room, along with the aroma of coffee and the cinnamon sweetness of the warm sticky buns Miriam was placing inside the glass counter.

“You might as well box me up half a dozen of those,” Adam said as he pulled out more cash. “Maybe there’ll be one or two left for Matthias by the time I get home tonight. And maybe not!”

Miriam laughed as she made his change. “You fellas have a
gut
day—and a Happy New Year, too. Seems to me Willow Ridge is off to a fine fresh start even though God’s brought some mighty big changes our way,” she remarked. “And I have a feelin’ He’s not finished surprisin’ us.”

As she reached beneath the counter for a pastry box, Adam couldn’t help smiling. Just being around Miriam and her girls in this cozy down-home café made everybody feel brighter—even in January, when snow was piled high along the roadsides and the gray clouds suggested that more might be on the way.

As he took the box of warm rolls, Adam glanced toward the table where he’d eaten. Annie Mae was picking up her tip. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened like saucers as she quickly riffled through the stack of bills—and then got to his.

Adam ducked out the door. Was it his imagination, or did the jingle of the bell sound merrier than usual? As he climbed into his wagon, he sincerely hoped Annie Mae was off to one of those fresh starts Miriam had talked about.

That’s as far as it goes, though,
he reminded himself.
She deserves a
gut
life . . . better than I can give her.

Annie Mae rushed up the stairs inside the smithy, glad Ben Hooley wasn’t working at his forge and that Nellie wasn’t yet home from school. What a day she’d had! And she’d come home with enough leftovers for supper, too. Only after she entered the upstairs apartment that she and her sister now shared with Rhoda did she lay out the tips she’d collected. She separated the tens and fives and ones into piles . . . counted them as she held her breath.

My stars! There’s more than a hundred dollars here!

Unable to believe that friends and complete strangers would be so generous—giddy with the first wages she had ever earned—Annie Mae counted her money again. Miriam had said this first day after the holidays would probably be slow, but if she’d collected this much during Monday’s breakfast and lunch, and would also get a wage from Miriam, it didn’t take advanced math to predict what she might earn in a week . . . a month.

I’ve got to sock this away and keep a record. Nellie and I will need to buy shampoo and fabric and such, and we can’t live on the generosity of friends forever.

As she boiled water for tea, Annie Mae noticed an empty plastic coffee canister in the wastebasket—the perfect piggy bank. She would ride into New Haven next time Miriam deposited the café’s income, to open her own account . . . a positive, responsible step toward looking after herself and Nellie. For now, Annie Mae tucked the red canister in the back of the closet she shared with her sister. Here in this four-room apartment, where the interior walls rolled on tracks to allow more flexibility and space, storage—and privacy—were hard to come by. She arranged her oldest pair of shoes in front of her secret bank, hoping nobody cleaned out the closet when she wasn’t around.

As Annie Mae sank into the small wooden rocker to rub her aching feet and sip her tea, footsteps on the stairs announced someone’s arrival. Rhoda had gone to stay with Andy Leitner’s family until later this evening, so this surely had to be Nellie.
Should I tell her how much I made?
Dat
never let on about what he earned selling his Belgians....

“You home, Sister?” Nellie called out as she opened the apartment door. “Ah! And how’d your first day go? I thought about ya a lot—so much that Teacher Alberta caught me with a question I wasn’t ready for.”

“And did ya give her a
gut
answer?” Annie Mae took in her younger sister’s snug brown cape dress, which barely reached beneath her knees. “As I recall, Teacher Alberta could be led astray with details that sounded logical but that ya made up on the spur of the moment.”

“Annie Mae!” Nellie laid her books on the small kitchen table. “I’ve never had the inclination to fib that way—or, truth be told, could never come up with quick answers like you could. I told her I was thinkin’ about ya waitin’ tables at the Sweet Seasons.” Nellie went to the cupboard for a cup. “Teacher Alberta sends ya her best. She told all the scholars to keep us in their prayers.”

Annie Mae’s throat went tight. While Alberta Zook—storekeeper Henry’s cousin, who’d come from Jamesport when Willow Ridge needed a teacher—had never impressed her as the sharpest pencil in the pack, she appreciated the young woman’s thoughtfulness. “Tell her those prayers are bein’ answered,” she murmured. “The folks in the café were mighty
gut
to me today. I think we’ll get by just fine, Nellie.”

Her sister dipped a tea bag by its string. “Do . . . do ya think we’ll ever see the twins and Sara and little Timmy again? I miss them something fierce now that they’re in Higher Ground, without Naz and Jerusalem lookin’ after them.”

Annie Mae gripped her cup, struggling for an answer. At fifteen, Nellie was more sheltered and less adventurous than she herself had been at that age—and more upset by their
dat
’s unthinkable behavior over the past month. “I wish we knew they were bein’ looked after, too,” she agreed. “But what with Nazareth and Bishop Tom lookin’ to get hitched someday soon—and Tom says Jerusalem’s visitin’ that nice bishop from Cedar Creek—”

“Jerusalem’s
seein
’ a fella? At
her
age?” Nellie blurted. “My stars! You heard
all
the
gut
gossip today!”

“—and me workin’ at the café,” Annie Mae went on, “we’d have to find somebody to look after the kids. They couldn’t stay here by themselves—even if this apartment was big enough for us and the four of them.”

Nellie sighed. “
Jah,
there’s that. But
someday
I want all of us to be together again, Annie Mae,” she murmured wistfully. “I want us all to be
home
. . . even though I for
sure
don’t want to go to Higher Ground with Dat. And I feel like such a disobedient daughter for sayin’ that.”

Annie Mae sipped her tea rather than responding.
Home
. . . Where exactly was that now? While these pastel walls and simple furnishings made for a nice temporary place to stay, this apartment would always belong to Rhoda Lantz and her
mamm
. Annie Mae and her sister had marched out of the house on Bishop’s Ridge of their own free will, and they were facing the consequences. She didn’t have the heart to tell Nellie that they might never live with their siblings again . . . might never feel Timmy’s chubby arms wrapped around their necks or hear Sara singing or—

Don’t dwell on such sad, lonely thoughts. Get Nellie thinkin’ on something else.

Annie Mae raised her eyebrows. “Heard another tidbit today, too. Millie’s stayin’ at Preacher Gabe’s now, helpin’ with Wilma.”

“
No!
I can’t see
that
lastin’.” Nellie squeezed the liquid from her tea bag and tossed it in the trash. “Boy-crazy as she is, she’ll be sneakin’ out as soon as both her grandparents are nappin’.”

Boy-crazy. Folks used to say that about me as well as my best friend
, Annie Mae thought. “I’m thinkin’ Preacher Gabe can’t afford to pay anybody—and Millie’s the only one of Atlee and Lizzie’s kids that’s old enough, so she’s takin’ care of her grandmother whether she wants to or not.”

“
Gut
thing Miriam wanted ya at the café. Lots more fun to be a waitress than a caretaker.”

“So true.” Annie Mae gestured toward the boxes on the counter. “And Miriam sent me home with sticky buns, green beans, and some sausage and rice casserole. Rhoda said she’d be at Andy’s until he got home later tonight, so we can eat our supper any time we care to.”

“Supper? It’s only three o’clock!” Nellie teased.

Annie Mae had to laugh. “The breakfast shift ran right into the lunch hour,” she recalled, “and by the time I realized I was hungry, it was two o’clock and we were closin’ up. I’ve only eaten a few spoonfuls of fried apples all day.”

“And whose fault is that?” Nellie challenged as she peered inside the carry-out containers on the counter. “Ya can’t tell me Miriam won’t give ya time to eat, while . . . Oh my, but that big, gooey sticky bun
is
callin’ my name.”

“I’m hungry for some of that casserole. After watching Naomi stir up the fried sausage and rice with cans of mushroom soup, I could make that without a recipe.” Annie Mae rose to join her sister, who had always been more inclined to eat than she was. And her ploy had worked: Nellie was fetching plates from the cabinet, distracted from her forlorn thoughts about their younger siblings. When they sat down, their mealtime prayer was very brief as the aromas of their food wafted around them.

“Mmm.” Nellie closed her eyes over her first bite of pastry. “This is so wonderful-
gut,
Sister. Soft and fresh, with just the right amount of nuts and gooey glaze. You can bring home Miriam’s leftovers anytime.”

“You’ve gotta taste this casserole while it’s still warm,” Annie Mae replied with her mouth half full. “Naomi cooks the main courses while Miriam bakes the pies and rolls and desserts. Hannah’s workin’ in the kitchen now, too.”

“Really?” Nellie tore off another inch of the coiled cinnamon roll. “Didn’t think her
dat
wanted her workin’ so soon after she got out of school—especially where she’d be around English folks.”

Annie Mae shrugged. “She got tired of hangin’ around home, I think, what with Ezra workin’ at the hospital and her brothers runnin’ their carpentry shop and her
mamm
cookin’ with Miriam. She um, wasn’t real happy to hear that Bram’s engaged to a girl from Cedar Creek, either.”

“
Really?
” Nellie’s eyes widened. She didn’t say as much, but she longed for the day when she turned sixteen and could begin dating, as most of her friends were. “I think you learned more today than I did, Sister. How was Hannah takin’ that bit of information?”

“She spent a lot of time pretendin’ to look for stuff in the storage room,” Annie Mae replied. “I guess Bram—
and
his brother—fell head over heels with twin sisters when they went to fetch their new sleigh and courtin’ buggy. Not much Hannah can say about it.”

And wasn’t that the way of it, with guys? One minute they were eager to please the girl they were seeing, and just that fast another gal could turn their heads. It was one more reason Annie Mae planned never to marry. She figured to have her fun while it lasted, but not to get caught and trapped—the way Mamm and a lot of her friends had—by marrying men who made pretty promises.

As she absently wiped her hand on her apron, she felt Adam’s reading glasses in her pocket. Now
there
was something she wouldn’t show her sister. The specs had come in handy while she was learning the items on the menu, but there would be no end to Nellie’s insinuations about Adam Wagler if her sister found out what he’d done this morning.

But wasn’t it thoughtful of him to see her problem and fix it, without making a fuss? She’d heard several compliments about those glasses today . . . allowed herself to recall that startling moment of awareness when Adam had gently positioned them on her nose.

Enough of thinking about Adam. Nothing will come of it.

Annie Mae reached for the remaining sticky bun while Nellie spooned green beans and sausage noodles onto her plate. They were fed and sheltered. Prayed for. That was enough for now.

As Adam’s Belgian gelding clip-clopped along the county blacktop toward home, he took in the last rose-colored streaks of the sunset on the horizon. What with helping the Brenneman boys finish that kitchen on the other side of New Haven, and then returning to Willow Ridge to repair and repaint some of the shelving units in Zook’s Market, he’d put in a lot of time and miles for one day.

He was grateful for the steady work, though. It got him out among folks who appreciated his skills and trusted his judgment, far as what species of wood they should use for cabinets, or what colors of paint and wallpaper were popular. Tomorrow he’d be sanding an oak parquet floor for a lady who lived in Warrensburg, and the refinishing would take him a couple of days by the time he made the trip there and back.

“
Gut
boy, Jerry,” he murmured when his horse turned left at the crossroads. “Take us on home now, fella.”

The sturdy horse’s ears perked up, along with his pace. It was Jerry’s way to head quickly toward the barn once Adam guided him onto Bishop’s Ridge Road. As they passed the stately white house where Hiram Knepp and his family had lived, it seemed to Adam that the windows watched him like eyes . . . empty and soulless now that the place was unoccupied. Just beyond the house sat the huge custom-built barn where Hiram had raised and sold his prize-winning horses. A white plank fence stretched as far as the eye could see around the property.

Quite a chunk of change, sitting there empty,
Adam mused as his wagon rumbled past the arched entry sign for Bishop’s Ridge Belgians. No doubt Hiram Knepp had a plan for these structures and the acreage they sat on—certainly the most impressive property in Willow Ridge. But who could guess what their excommunicated bishop would do next?

Jerry trotted up the Wagler lane with an eager whicker. Adam unhitched his big enclosed wagon before leading the horse into the barn to brush him down and feed him. It was a soothing routine at the end of each day, yet this evening Adam’s gaze wandered to the back stall they used for storage. Beneath an old blue tarp, his motorcycle sat as a reminder of the trouble it had gotten him into . . . how a yen for forbidden English transportation had turned his
rumspringa
from a time of youthful adventure into a nightmare.

“Really should sell that thing,” he muttered as he poured Omolene into Jerry’s trough. He stroked the Belgian’s massive shoulder, inhaling the molasses scent of the feed. “Should’ve stuck with you and the other horses, ain’t so?”

Jerry blew air from his nostrils and kept chewing, contented now that his workday was behind him.

Even though Adam resisted the urge to lift the blue tarp, memories of his mother engulfed him. He retrieved the Zook’s Market sack and his bakery box from the wagon before he strode toward the back door of the house. Why was he thinking about Mamm, anyway? Because he’d seen Annie Mae at the Sweet Seasons? The two women weren’t much alike—

Unless you consider how they both kept their families looking clean and healthy and . . . happy.

Adam entered the kitchen and sighed. Matthias stood at the old black cookstove, arranging slices of bacon in a cast-iron skillet that was already smoking—probably because it needed a good washing. The countertop was piled with their dirty dishes, and the heavy odor of grease hung in the air. “Time for Ruth or Etta to come and clean this place again,” he remarked as he set his parcels on the cluttered table.

Matthias let out a humorless laugh. “You really want to hear our sisters howl when they walk in here? They’re probably glad they married guys from Clark and Carrollton, so they can’t come clean up after us very often.”

Adam didn’t press his point. Talking about their messy house invariably started Matthias reminiscing about how his Sadie had rescued the two of them and Dat from their own grime after Mamm’s passing—which led to recalling how his wife had suffocated during an asthma attack before he could call the doctor.