Forever Amish (22 page)

“Ed, gut ta see you,” Armin said to Pops and reached out to shake his hand. My father obliged with an apathetic shake.

“Are you the man who wants to steal my daughter away?”

“I suggested we spend time together.”

My father guffawed. “What are you talking about? You barely know each other.”

“I know her well enough.”

“You don't know nothing,” Pops said in a mocking voice, reminding me of the quarrelsome crows out in the field.

Armin widened his stance. “I know more than you think I do.”

“Stop it, you two.” I sprang to my feet. “I'll choose where I go and with whom.”

“Yah, okay,” Armin said. “Sorry, Ed, if I offended you.” Armin turned to me. “Are you still coming to my brother's tonight for supper? And after, to see my new house?”

“Yes. I'd like that.”

“Gut, I'll be back for you in an hour.”

As he strode toward his cabin, Ginger wandered over to Rascal, who bowed before her, bringing his head to her level to initiate play. She'd certainly adapted to life on the farm as if she'd spent her life here. But I was not a Welsh corgi. I was a woman who needed to make rational, practical choices. Perhaps Pops was right: I was acting irrationally. I recalled the saying “Follow your heart” and decided I'd already done enough of that to last me a lifetime, without results. Look at me: single, no kids, no career. I'd always relied on a man to be my fallback cushion—Pops, and then Donald. Maybe I should live by myself with Ginger. But if I stayed single in my twenties and thirties, my chance for children might pass me by. I'd seen it happen. A neighbor in New Milford had dated a guy for nine years; by the time they split up and she found someone new, she was unable to bear children. A cruel twist of fate, yet one of her doing—according to her.

But was dating Armin as loco as Pops made it sound? Yet I had to admit I was terribly attracted to Armin. Would I prefer him wearing a Wall Street pinstriped suit and an Ivy League tie like Donald, and driving an Audi instead of his horse and buggy?

Not really.

 

CHAPTER 29

An hour later, Armin and I set off on foot to his brother's home for supper. Except for occasional slivers of moonlight piercing the clouds, the sky was gunmetal gray, making it hard to see the patches of icy snow still littering the ground.

I was glad I'd borrowed Rhoda's long black woolen coat and worn my clothes from work—my laundered jeans hadn't dried thoroughly. But chilly air billowed up my skirt, prompting me to keep pace with Armin's long strides. I was fatigued from standing all day and waiting on customers, but I kept plodding along, all the while wishing I'd brought a flashlight.

I thought Armin might engage me in conversation, but he stuffed his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and stared straight ahead as if ready to face a firing squad. Was he fuming over my going back to Connecticut for the weekend?

We took a left into a lane alongside a stately white house as the moon glimmered through the clouds; a magnificent barn, silos, and a windmill stood like sentinels behind it.

“Here it is.” Armin slowed his pace. We entered the barnyard and climbed the back stairs. Armin opened a door, guided me into the dimly lit utility room housing a brigade of work boots, tools, and an old-fashioned washing machine.

He stepped aside and I passed him. “I used to live here,” he said. “With Nathaniel before he wed Esther.”

“So I hear.” Lizzie had briefly explained that Esther, a widow, recently married Nathaniel, a widower. Two lovebirds was how she'd described them.

Armin made no move to knock on the door, which I assumed led to the main house. Before I could ask him why he was hesitating, the door swung open and an Amish woman about Pops's age said, “Willkumm. Gut ta meet ya.” She stood a couple of inches taller than I did and was clad in a turquoise-blue dress and black apron; her white prayer cap was neatly pressed and her hair parted down the center the same as Rhoda's. “I'm Esther King, Armin's sister-in-law.” She didn't carry the same lilting accent as Rhoda and Lizzie. But Armin had mentioned Esther once lived on the West Coast. Somehow, she and her daughter, Holly, had ventured to the area to visit long-lost relatives after decades of absence, and stayed.

“Kumm rei,” Esther said. “I mean, come in, won't ya, please.” She shook my hand, her grasp firm but gentle, then peered around me to see Armin examining a propane lamp—lollygagging was what he was doing.

“Armin,” she said, “don't you go changing your mind about staying for supper after I've been cooking all afternoon.” Esther back-stepped into a spacious kitchen housing an oval table, ample cupboards, and counter space. A refrigerator and stove looked brand new. Quite impressive. My nostrils inhaled a myriad of scrumptious fragrances. A loaf of wheat bread and muffins still emitting steam sat on the counter.

Armin wandered in, removed his hat, and left it on a peg next to another straw hat—I assumed Nathaniel's.

“Have you met my husband?” Esther asked me as Nathaniel strolled into the room carrying a newspaper. She sent him a look that was nothing less than adoration. Her lashes fluttered and her green eyes shone with loveliness.

“Yes,” I said. “Hi, Nathaniel.”

“Good evening.” He smiled, then narrowed his eyes at Armin. “Did ya bring that mutt along?” Nathaniel folded the newspaper in half and whacked the lip of the counter with it.

“Quit your worrying. He's in the cabin with Sally's little dog.”

“Wait until your Rascal gets into Reuben's chicken coop. Sparks will fly.” Nathaniel set the newspaper aside and lowered himself onto the chair at the head of the table.

“That won't happen, because I'll be moving into my new home,” Armin said, hand on hip. “Unless you've changed your mind.”

Nathaniel's brown beard swayed as he shook his head. “Nee, I'd never go back on my word. The house and property are yours.”

Armin demonstrated not a pittance of gratitude. He glanced down at the table set for five. “Did you invite another guest?”

“Just Anna.” Esther turned to me. “My mother lives in the Daadi Haus.” Esther moved to the gas stove and switched off the heat. She opened the oven door and exhumed a bubbling casserole of cheese-covered noodles, filling the room with the aroma of melted cheddar, mushrooms, caramelized onions, and ground beef. She placed it on a cooling rack.

“Please, have a seat.” Esther motioned to me toward a chair midway down the table. I marveled at the plethora of salads and relishes gracing the table's green-and-white–checked oilcloth.

A moment later, an aged Amish woman tottered into the kitchen.

“Sally, this is my mamm, Anna.” Anna must have been well into her eighties, judging by her wrinkled face, silvery hair, and stooped posture. A white heart-shaped cap covered her head, its strings tied beneath her chin. Armin had explained that Anna had been ill in the past, but she looked fit, her eyes lively and riveted on me.

“Hello.” Her glasses perched on her nose, she scanned my hair and clothing, then asked Esther, “Ya need help, Essie?”

“Nee, everything's ready. I hope you all have good appetites.”

“Yes, I'm starving,” I said with too much exuberance. Guess I had a case of the jitters.

Anna positioned herself across from me and gave me another looking over through her thick spectacles. Armin stood behind her and helped her walk her chair in to the table, then sat next to her. She patted his hand. “Denki,” she said.

As the others chatted with me about the snow, Armin remained uncharacteristically taciturn. Lizzie had mentioned it was not the Amish way to show affection in front of others. But if he wasn't going to acknowledge my presence, why bring me? Maybe Armin was nervous around his big brother. Although he acted at ease with Esther and Anna.

“Armin, ya need help moving?” Nathaniel said.

“I don't think so, thanks all the same.”

“I could ask some of my friends to come over.”

“Then I suppose you'd want me to grovel and thank you profusely.”

“Nee, you don't owe me a thing. If anything, I'm the one who needs forgiveness.” Nathaniel turned to me. “From you, Sally. I should have come clean days ago.” He gazed into my face with what seemed to be contrition and blinked several times. “I went poking around your red car the night you arrived. I only opened the door, then I heard you and Armin coming outside, so I decided I'd best skedaddle home. I didn't realize it had caused such a ruckus until yesterday when Esther heard about it from Rhoda. I thought Armin might be entertaining someone.” Nathaniel flattened his napkin across his lap.

“You're the culprit?” Armin slapped the table. “Ya mean to tell me my big brother isn't perfect?”

“Now, Armin, he never said he was,” Esther said. Although I could see in her eyes she thought he was as near to perfect as a mortal could be.

Nathaniel swiped his hand across his mouth. “I'm sorry and hope you can forgive me, Sally.”

“No big deal,” I said, as I recalled the relentless downpour and my ruined shoes. “I overreacted. In hindsight, I should have borrowed a pair of boots.”

He turned to Armin. “And you, too, Armin. I'm sorry. I had no business snooping into your personal affairs.”

“That's the truth.” Armin chortled. “Old habits die hard. Yah?”

“Come on, Armin,” Anna said with a playful grin. “Your brother told you he was sorry.”

“He says he's sorry for something, like grousing at me when he found out his precious standardbred Galahad ran away, then he turns around and does it again.”

Anna tsked. “I can think of a few pranks you've pulled and have yet to admit, Armin.”

“And we love you just the same,” Esther said. “Let's not ruin our time together by rehashing the past.” She set the casserole on a trivet in the middle of the table and slid a serving spoon into the casserole's browned-to-perfection surface.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Shall we thank the good Lord from whom all blessings flow?” He bowed his head, and we all did the same. I peeked up to see Armin had also bent his head.

Nathaniel led us in a minute of silent prayer before he said, “Amen.” I had a multitude of requests for the Lord, but all I could think about was making it through this meal without embarrassing myself. Or Armin, who was ignoring me as if I'd turned invisible. Did he regret bringing me?

“What's on your calendar?” Esther asked Armin as she served Nathaniel, then Anna, casserole.

“After I move, I'll buy draft horses.”

“No one knows horses better than Armin,” Anna said to me, the skin around her faded sage-green eyes creasing.

“Are you sure you wouldn't be better off with mules?” Nathaniel said. “They eat less and work harder.”

“Doling out advice already, big brother?” Armin spooned up some coleslaw.

“I'm planning to bring one of my milking cows over to your barn tomorrow.” Nathaniel served himself several pickles. “You'd best not forget to milk her.”

“Can you wait on that for a few days?” Armin asked. “I'll have my hands full.”

“Yah, you come over and get her when you want. I could lend you my extra bridles and plowing equipment. Come out to the barn after supper.” He forked into a pickle and took a chomp. “I could lend you money, too.”

“You think I'm destitute?”

“Nee, just trying to help.”

“With this late spring, I can still prepare the land for planting corn as well as the next man,” Armin said.

“Yah, this snow will set my alfalfa back weeks.” Nathaniel dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “You should go organic, the way I do.”

“I'll think about it,” Armin said.

He declined dessert, but after consuming two servings of casserole and steamed vegetables, and a scoop of each salad—three-bean, coleslaw, and beet—I accepted a medley of whoopie pie, custard, and gingersnap cookies. So much for my waistline.

“Lizzie and I can help you set up your kitchen in your new house, if you like,” Esther said to Armin as she topped off his coffee. “We left some essentials.” She glanced my way. “Zach's and Nathaniel's homes were already stocked—both being bachelors so long. And Zach and my daughter, Holly, received so many wedding presents.”

Armin shifted in his seat.

“Were you afraid we'd invited Holly tonight?” Anna asked him.

“Why would I care?” Armin's cheeks reddened.

Anna tsked. “Ach, no need to become tetchy.”

“Zach says they're having a child,” Armin said. “Are ya excited, Esther?”

“Oh, my, yes.” A grin crept across her face.

Anna covered her mouth with her fingers, their joints knotted. “We shouldn't speak of such personal and private matters.”

“With my Holly dressed Englisch, the whole world can see her full figure.” Esther's countenance radiated happiness. “Finally, I'll cuddle a grandchild in my arms. I'm knitting a blanket for the bassinet.”

“What color is it?” I asked.

“Yellow.”

“It must've been the Lord's will that they wed,” Anna said with a shrug, “although I'll never understand why.”

“Zach is a gut man.” Esther set more plates of gingersnap cookies, and chocolate and pumpkin whoopie pies on the table. “He's a fine husband to my daughter.”

“I've been missing her ever so much,” Anna said, and it occurred to me Armin did too. How could I have been so blind? Armin was pining over Esther's daughter. Was that why he wanted me here? To put on a false show of bravado for his family? To prove he'd moved on?

In spite of my turbulent thoughts, I finished my bounteous array of desserts, then helped Esther clear the table. She deposited scraps into a bucket for the hogs. “Nothing's wasted around here,” she told me.

She moved to the sink and commenced washing the dishes and pots while Armin and Nathaniel trekked out to the barn to inspect the extra bridles he'd offered to give Armin. He seemed to be more than generous with Armin, but I could tell by their stilted conversation that bad blood rivered between the brothers. I wondered if Armin were the type of man who ran hot and cold.

I stood and asked Esther for a towel to dry the dishes while Anna sat at the table nursing her coffee. Now was my chance to ask about my mother. I told myself to go ahead and plunge into the frothy water the way Esther was immersing the dirty flatware.

“Esther?” I said. “I assume you and Anna have heard about my father returning.”

Esther nodded as she scrubbed the serving spoon.

“Did either of you know him when he was young?” I asked.

“Yah, I remember him,” Anna said, and added a tablespoon of sugar to her coffee.

“Now, Mamm.” Esther pivoted to her mother. “Ya know your memory is sometimes fuzzy.”

“Not anymore. Not since my surgery. Ask me anything. I could answer all the doctor's questions at my last appointment. My memory's as good as new. Let me see …” She straightened her prayer cap with speckled hands. “Yah, I recall Leah and Leonard's Ezekiel.”

Esther seemed ill at ease as she scrubbed the bottom of a pan. “We heard from Reuben that your father's staying with them,” she said to me.

“But he wouldn't attend church yesterday,” Anna said. “According to Leah, the bishop visited Ezekiel in the afternoon, but he gave the bishop the brush-off.”

“Mamm, remember what the minister preached about last month? Exodus 20:16. ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness against your neighbor.'”

Anna's mouth narrowed. “Telling the facts isn't bearing false witness, Essie. In fact, we are admonished to speak truthfully. Leah told me about Ezekiel today.”

I couldn't let this stellar opportunity bypass me. I parked myself on the chair next to Anna. “If you know anything about my mother, please tell me.”

“Your mamm?” Anna wagged her head. “I don't believe I knew who she was. But it's not unusual for our young people to go about their own way during their running-around years.”