Davey's Daughter (4 page)

“Yeah. Could be.”

The subject was over almost before it started, and nothing more was said.

On Christmas Day, the sky was a spectacular shade of blue, crowning the white snow, creating crevices of blue and gray where the shadows lay beneath the drifts.

Sarah was up early, helping her mother arrange all the wrapped presents in a large pile on the drop leaf table in the living room. It was overflowing with gifts beneath and beside it as well, the way it always was.

The forest green of the roll-down blinds behind the sofa blocked the bright glare of sunshine on snow. The cushions on the couch had patterns of brown and red and, with the green blinds, created a scene of Christmas colors.

There were no other decorations for the holidays except for a few red and green candles scattered throughout the house. Since Dat was a minister, it was expected that their family would have a plain house, to lead by example, without worldly displays of expensive artwork or fancy curtains.

Not that Mam didn’t think about it, she always said. But she had a nice, new house and nice furniture, so she was content and wanted to stay within the rules.

Anna Mae and Ruthie gave Mam nice things, saying what did it matter, but invariably the ceramic figurines and fancy candleholders and dried flowers ended up in the bedroom, out of sight.

The turkey was in the oven, the stuffing bursting out of its cavity, and by mid-morning the smell of celery and onion permeated the house. In the
kesslehaus
, the ham cooked in ginger ale and pineapple juice, moist and succulent, causing Dat to inhale mightily as he walked through the door.

Sarah was peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink when the first vanload of brothers and sisters-in-law arrived, followed by a team and buggy containing Ruthie and her husband. The chaos officially began.

Dat hurried into the bedroom in his stocking feet, tiptoeing, telling Mam to welcome them in. He hadn’t changed clothes yet, and Mam’s cheeks flamed red as she said, “
Ach
Davey, what were you doing till now?”

She opened the door, stood aside, and smiled as she waved her offspring inside and kept on smiling.

She cuddled babies, kissed toddlers, shook hands, and looked deep into her grown sons’ eyes. She saw they were alright, life was good for them, and they were glad to be here.

“Where’s Dat?”

“Oh, he’s still changing clothes.”

“What a loser!”

“Hey! Watch what you’re saying!”

Dat emerged from the bedroom carrying his black Sunday shoes, his black socks in the opposite hand, and his hair uncombed. But a wide smile of genuine holiday welcome was shining from his face.

“Barefoot!”

“What’s wrong with you? It’s Christmas!”

Dat’s eyes shone with a bit more than their ordinary moisture as he wrung his strapping sons’ hands, telling them it was just wonderful to see them again. He shook hands with the daughters-in-law and gently held the grandchildren and marveled at their growth.

Mam’s eyes sparkled, her color remaining high as she whirled between the stove and the long table, which was now extended with twelve leaves, allowing twenty-four people to be seated at once.

The tablecloths were green, the paper plates a patterned red, the plastic tumblers clear. These paper products were all Anna Mae and Ruthie’s doing, Mam had lamented as she placed them on the table early that morning. She should be using her Sunday dishes, she said. Sarah told her times were changing, and she’d be thankful when it was time to do dishes.

Ruthie had made the Christmas salad in Tupperware molds, two of them, but told Mam she hadn’t the slightest clue how to get them out of there. She knew they’d flop the minute the molds were inverted.

Mam’s eyes sparkled as she filled the sink with hot water and lowered the molds into it for about a minute before turning them on a plate and slowly taking off the lids. She was rewarded by a sucking sound, and a perfect ring of red, green, and white Jello stood perfectly on the plate as Anna Mae’s family and another vanload arrived.

The house was full, too warm, and extremely noisy. Levi held court by the drop leaf table, taking gifts as each new family presented them and thanking the givers repeatedly.

It was a wondrous Christmas dinner. Mashed potatoes heaped in Melmac serving dishes, puddles of browned butter pooled on top and running down the sides. Gravy
—
thick and salty
—
in Mam’s best ceramic gravy boats. Wide homemade noodles swimming in chicken broth. Carrots and peas seasoned with a pinch of salt and plenty of butter. And coleslaw, deviled eggs, applesauce, and, because it was Christmas, cashews and the best olives in cut glass dishes with dividers down the center.

Dat had Abner believing he had cured his own ham and had a good laugh before he told him it was a John Martin ham. Allen said he probably raised the turkey, too.

No, Dat admitted, the meat was bought at the grocery store. Raising pigs and turkeys for meat was just not profitable, unless the farmer had a couple thousand of each and a good contract from the feed company.

“Sad, isn’t it?” he said. “It used to be that my grandfather could make money keeping a few hens and pigs and milk five cows by hand, but no more, as the price of feed eclipsed the price per pound of beef.”

This led to a discussion of times past, including the boys’ antics growing up on the farm.

Sarah was careful, eating very little, knowing Matthew would be picking her up at six. She’d have to look her best and being stuffed with holiday goodies was not an option.

Allen leaned across the table. “Don’t you have a boyfriend yet?”

Sarah shook her head and busied herself feeding little Ruthanna.

“What are you waiting on?”

“Oh, till I’m thirty.”

“You already are.”

They all laughed uproariously at Sarah’s expense. She laughed with them, so glad the secret in her heart was not visible, her joy a hidden treasure from prying eyes.

“Hey, you should come to Dauphin County to teach school. Next year three of our teachers are getting married. You haven’t taught school yet, and that might fit you perfectly,” said Rachel, Allen’s wife, her voice carrying a seriousness that Sarah knew was not just banter, like her brothers.

“Maybe I should.”

But, oh, I won’t. I won’t, she thought, exhilaration infusing her mind and heart. Next year, I might very possibly be married to Matthew.

Gifts were exchanged, the children wiggling in their seats, anticipation coloring their cheeks. They squealed with delight at the books and Legos, the dolls and coloring books.

Levi unwrapped his gifts with a great deal of showmanship, folding the wrapping paper and telling Mam to keep it with a gruff commanding voice. He was simply speechless when he received a brand new air hockey game from his brothers.

That was what they played the remainder of the day, as they nibbled on the homemade candy and cookies, the leftover ham and turkey, the fruit and nuts and punch.

Dat watched from his seat on the brown recliner, a child on each knee, and whooped and laughed and forgot all his troubles for one blessed Christmas Day.

He remembered to thank God especially for Levi, who continued to bring them many moments of pure and unabashed humor. Lord knew, there were plenty of concerns to level it all out these days.

T
rue to his word, or almost, Matthew arrived at a few minutes before seven. Amid much loud teasing and banter, Sarah managed to get out of the house unruffled, a smile on her face.

Matthew greeted her warmly, kept a lively conversation going, seemed genuinely interested in her family’s Christmas dinner, saying he couldn’t imagine having a family that size.

Sarah laughed as she leaned back against the seat. Matthew asked if she was wearing a new coat.

“Yes.”

“It’s pretty cool.”

“Thanks.”

She became shy then, wondering if the new coat was trying too hard. Well, she’d needed one, so she guessed he’d just have to think what he wanted.

“You didn’t buy the new coat on my account, did you?”

The question took her completely off guard, and she floundered, red-faced, caught in a hard place. If she said no, he’d think she didn’t care, and if she said yes, it would appear a bit desperate. She just couldn’t come up with a coherent answer.

Matthew seemed to enjoy her discomposure, a half smile playing around his features, his confidence allowing him to relax and remain at ease, even when Sarah was so obviously nervous. That was the only rough part of the whole evening.

He unhitched his horse, asking her to help and then wait until he could accompany her to the shop where the parents and youth were assembling.

The youth sat around a long table with the girls on one side and the young men on the other. The parents sat around the walls of the shop, and propane lamps hissed gently from their cabinets.

The singing had already started when they arrived, a sea of green and red and black dotted with white coverings, as everyone lifted their voices to sing the old German and the newer English Christmas carols.

Many faces turned to watch their arrival. Acquaintances’ hands went to their mouths, and eyebrows lifted. Well, he hadn’t waited long to move on, they thought.

Mam stared straight ahead, and Dat lowered his head. Matthew’s mother, Hannah, watched them like an exultant hawk sure of its prey. Her husband, Elam, didn’t care one way or another as he was sound asleep beside her.

“How’d you get here so fast?” Sarah whispered to Mam.

“The boys dropped us off.”

“Oh.”

“Rose!” Sarah turned to greet her friend, who was also dressed in red, but to Sarah’s chagrin, the red she’d wanted so badly before deciding to take Priscilla’s advice.

Oh, she looked like a Christmas flower, her blonde hair shining, her face glowing, catching the red of her dress. Her large eyes were luminous, her white teeth so perfect as she caught Sarah’s arm.

“Come with me!”

Together, they made their way to the bathroom, giggling nervously, and then collapsed on the rug and talked as fast as they could, catching up on local news. They chatted about the farmer’s market in New Jersey where they both worked and what a madhouse it always became over the holidays, when they were absolutely run off their feet.

Then, the inevitable.

“I didn’t see you come in. How’d you get here?”

“Matthew.”

“Is he taking you home?”

“Yes. I…I think so.”

Rose said nothing after that, the silence thickening around them. Suddenly she blurted out, “Sarah, how does he…I mean, like, how does he seem to be? Happy? Sad?”

“He’s…he’s just Matthew. Sort of the way he always was. Normal. The way I’ve always known him.”

“Is he going to ask you?”

“No.”

Her answer came too loudly and forcefully, and Rose knew it as well as Sarah.

Sarah’s face felt burning hot, she reached both hands up to cool it, her icy fingers bringing their temperature back to normal.

“Rose, please don’t be suspicious of me.”

“Well, the thing is, I miss him, and I’m torn with horrible indecision. Are break ups ever okay? I mean, here I am, rid of what really bugged me about Matthew. His selfishness, his….I mean it, Sarah, don’t you ever tell anyone this, but he’s sort of lazy sometimes, and yet I find I miss him so much. His good qualities do far outweigh his bad ones. Love is so weird. Sometimes I wonder if I know what it is. Now that I don’t have Matthew, part of me wants him back. It’s so hard to know what is right. I’m afraid to go back, because what if I don’t want him after all
—
after we’re back together?”

She leaped to her feet, leaned across the narrow counter top, and checked her image very carefully in the mirror. Then she turned, taking a deep breath and clasping her hands in front of her small waist, the one-sided conversation obviously over.

“Well.”

It was an ending, and Rose had pulled the lever of control on the conversation, her blue eyes infused with a sweetness that comes in a packet, Sarah thought, Sweet and Low and awfully artificial.

Obediently, Sarah stumbled clumsily to her feet, so ill at ease she could not meet her friend’s eyes. She felt gawky, unkempt, only a shadow of Rose. Yes, she was a shadow. A darker version of the true Rose.

As they walked into the room, the singing was already going well, rising to the rafters of the shop where members of the Amish community had gathered for an evening of praise on Christmas.

Many of the songs were sung in the old German language, timeless old Christmas hymns that reached back to the homeland in the Emmenthal Valley of Switzerland. There the forefathers had come to a decision to move to the New World, and they had settled in Berks County but ultimately became cloistered around Lancaster, where the soil was dark, loamy, and very productive.

The German hymns were beautiful and easy to sing. The youth sang mindlessly as they waited for the more catchy English tunes that were allowed after the traditional ones had been sung.

Children were lined up in small groups on the benches along the walls, trying their best to behave. They were so stoked on sweets, they could barely hold still, so they swung their feet, wriggled, pinched each other, giggled, and laughed out loud. Then they clapped their hands over their mouths, their eyes rolling above them, before a stern father or harried mother came to straighten up their erring offspring, which also served as a reprimand to all the children for a while.

After all, it was Christmas. Tomorrow was another holiday and another Christmas dinner or get together or hymn singing, so the children remained in high spirits.

Sarah, however, remained subdued, singing without her heart or her mind in the music.

So, that was how Rose felt. She wanted Matthew if she couldn’t have him, but if he was available, she was not so sure. What in the world was wrong with her?

For Sarah, there was no question, no doubt, no wondering. She would always be happy to be with Matthew, second best or however he wanted her. As long as she might have a chance to be his wife, to share the remainder of her life with him, she would be senselessly happy.

That was all she wanted from life. Wasn’t that real love?

That dry-mouthed, heart-thumping sensation the moment she was fortunate enough to be in his company? Everything he did, everything he said seemed so right and fine and wonderful, and that was how it would remain after they were married.

Marriage problems were completely out of the question for her and Matthew, as they would be the perfect epitome of God’s will.

And so Sarah’s thoughts went swirling about here, rampantly wandering there, her will level with God’s, she was sure. After all, wasn’t He a loving benefactor who gave richly of all things to enjoy? Dat spoke of God’s love every single time he stood up before his congregation.

In the Old Testament, if God was with the children of Israel, they were given the victory over opposing armies. Nervously, Sarah stole a sideways glance and figured if that wasn’t a formidable foe, she sure didn’t know what would be. She watched Rose singing prettily in her showy Christmas dress, knowing all eyes were upon her. She had to know.

A swift dart of anger found its mark in Sarah’s heart, thrown skillfully by the one who deceives. Her countenance fell as she lowered her head, and the singing paused for a bit.

She’d approach Matthew. She’d ask him fair and square about Rose.

Immediately, she knew she couldn’t. She would not be able to build up the nerve, the sense of self to ask. Nor would she have the strength to accept if his answer was a disappointment.

She’d just clothe herself with God’s righteousness, as the men of old had done, and He would be on her side, so who could come between them?

These thoughts came to her rescue on the way home, when Matthew remained silent. The horse plodded through the drifts that kept blowing stubbornly across the road in spite of the frequent runs made by the snowplows.

It was when they were stopped by the barn that Matthew turned, looked at her in the light of the headlights, and asked, “What would you say if I asked you for a date?”

There were no words anywhere for Sarah, her mind scrambling to catch what Matthew had just said.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. You mean, what would I say?”

“Yeah.”

“How do I know if you’re serious?”

“Oh, I’m serious.”

“Then, I guess it’s a yes.”

“Good.”

Sarah sat, looking straight ahead, a statue of fright.

“Aren’t you going to look at me?”

She did, slowly, always obedient to Matthew’s voice no matter what he asked. It was Matthew, the love of her life, and she would do whatever he asked, if it meant being his.

So when he leaned towards her and found her lips, there were none of Mam’s urgent words of warning to keep her from joyously yielding to his passion.

It was much later when Sarah ran up to the porch, opened the door silently, and tiptoed across the kitchen and up the stairs with stars in her eyes.

Sleep completely eluded her now. With her eyes wide open and her thoughts so scattered she could only retrieve bits and pieces of them, she lay in bed and smiled into the darkness.

He loved her!

He hadn’t said the words, but oh my!

Over and over, she relived the evening and the intimacy with Matthew. And knew she had conquered. Matthew loved her!

His mother would be so happy, the circle so complete now. Mam would be alright with time, wouldn’t she?

She thought of telling Hannah and Elam, knowing her position in their family would be cemented from the start. Hannah had always wanted this.

She thanked God over and over, her heart singing an old song of love.

In the morning, she was allowed to sleep in, if half past six could be called that, rising from her bed after being awake most of the night.

Nothing, however, could now dampen her outlook on life. Her wide eyes and bright smile gave her away completely before the family even sat down around the cheery breakfast table.

“My, you’re happy this morning!” Mam observed.

“Yes, Mam, I am. Matthew asked me last evening.”

She couldn’t stop the heat rising in her face nor could she meet her mother’s direct gaze, creating a sense of caution between them.

There was a moment of silence as Mam struggled with her emotions, unknown to Sarah, of course, the way she busied herself with the pancake batter. Eventually Mam said brightly, “Good for you, Sarah. I’m happy for you, if this is what you want.”

“It is.”

At the breakfast table, the steaming dishes between them, their hunger slowly satisfied, they spoke of Matthew and Sarah. Dat succeeded at hiding his surprise, and Levi slid his gaze slyly to the side and announced that there would be a wedding soon. Sarah laughed happily and said yes, there might be, but not till next year.

Priscilla watched Sarah’s face and kept her innermost thoughts to herself. She congratulated her with as much genuine honesty as she could muster, but all was lost on the jubilant Sarah.

Suzie was the only one to remain silent, keeping her eyes averted, pouring syrup on a buttered pancake with great concentration.

“Suzie!” Levi tapped her arm. “Aren’t you going to say something to Sarah?”

“Yes, of course. I just guess my teacher will be disappointed. Matthew comes down to school almost every evening,” she said.

Mam’s eyes met Dat’s, and both raised their eyebrows, their faces completely rearranged seconds later, although there was no need as Sarah was oblivious to their exchange.

“Who is your teacher?” Levi asked quickly.

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Her name is Naomi Ann.”

“Who?”

“Oh, you don’t know her.” Suzie waved a hand, eliminating the need for further questioning.

Soon the Monday that had begun so favorably was clouded when Sarah caught sight of her mother sitting alone in the middle of little Mervin’s twin bed. Her shoulders sagged with the weight of her grief as she held a pair of his flannel pajamas to her face and inhaled their smell, her
zeit-lang
(longing) for her youngest child encompassing her spirit yet again. Sarah stopped as she passed the door of his room and then went in to sit silently beside her mother, her hands in her lap, her head bent.

Finally, when a broken sob rose to the surface, she slid a comforting arm around her mother’s heaving shoulders and said, “Don’t, Mam. Please don’t.”