Kate's Song (3 page)

Dat slapped his knees. “
Gute
. Then let’s eat.”

At suppertime, they came flocking to the Weaver home like chickens to the cornmeal pan. Kate’s younger brothers, home from the dairy, plus her four older married siblings with their children, blew through the door at almost exactly the same time for supper. Elmer had set out early this morning to spread the word among the family that Katie had returned, and they were all to come to supper. Only Kate’s younger sister, Hannah, who lived in Ohio with her new husband, was missing.

Mamma and Dat Weaver had nine children. Three sons, three daughters, then three sons. A perfect nine-patch quilt, Mamma always said. Kate sat smack in the middle of the bunch. Three brothers older, three younger. One sister older, one younger.

Kate’s older brothers, Aaron, Zebulon, and Ike were each married with young children. Aaron, who lived next door, had five sons, and Kate knew how difficult it was for him to be humble about his two sets of twins. But if anyone was proud of his humility, it was Aaron.

Watching him walk into the house, Kate thought of her younger years and Aaron’s almost daily criticism of her manners, her pride, and her thoughts, which, according to Aaron, were very wicked indeed. When, as a little girl, Kate would sneak out behind the barn and sing at the top of her lungs to an imaginary, adoring audience, Aaron had somehow always managed to find her and give her an abrupt slap across the back of her neck. In those days, Dat chastised Aaron almost weekly for faultfinding, but Aaron must have felt it his calling to pass judgment on his sister.

Kate frowned to herself. She mustn’t think of Aaron so harshly. Perhaps she truly had a sinful heart and God was trying to send her a message through her brother.

Aaron and his wife, Ada, marched into the house arm in arm, paying no heed to their unruly sons, who bounded in after them. It was as if the boys weren’t even related.

Ada’s eyes grew as big as half dollars. Her rosebud lips parted in shock. “Kate! Elmer told us it was bad, but I had no idea how awful.”

Aaron merely frowned when he laid eyes on Kate. He granted her a cursory pat as he examined her bruised face. Kate braced herself for Aaron’s displeasure, but Zeb and Anna arrived, and Aaron was swept aside as they hugged Kate affectionately.

Zeb took Kate’s chin in his hand. “Poor girl. Does it hurt?”

Kate nodded.

Anna, Zeb’s wife, took Kate’s hand. “I missed you something wonderful. You are staying for a few days?”

“At least until September, Lord willing.”

Anna hugged her again. “Gute. We’ll see you often, then. We should make a quilt together.”

“I would like that,” Kate said.

Ike appeared at the door and threw out his arms. “Just look at you! Having to fight off those Englisch boys, are you?” He enfolded her in a rib-crushing embrace. “Remember when I fell out of the hayloft and broke my nose? I have never been in that much pain, ever.”

“I remember,” Kate said. “Your face was so swollen, I thought there was a stranger in our house for weeks.”

“I had two black eyes to go with it.”

Zeb punched Ike playfully in the shoulder. “And I can’t say the new nose did anything gute for your looks.”

Ike promptly took off after his brother. They ran around the kitchen like two teenagers, trying to catch each other, until Mamma scolded them to stop fighting before they broke something.

Kate squealed with delight when Mary’s husband, Moses, carried in the new baby, and she snatched the little one from his father’s arms the minute they crossed the threshold. Mary, Kate’s older sister, followed close behind.

Cuddling the sweet-smelling bundle close to her heart, Kate stroked the silky, black peach fuzz on the top of his head and caressed his little fingers. “Mary, he is a beautiful buplie. His skin is so soft.”

“Jah, he is perfect,” Mary said. “He will be a fine man for his dat.” Then she caught sight of Kate’s battered features. “Oh no. I should have brought my arnica ointment. What have you done for the bruising?”

“Nathaniel King brought a poultice this morning, and he is bringing some other things later.”

Mary touched Kate’s lip. “I’m telling you now not to bother with a tobacco poultice. A comfrey compress is the only thing that will take care of those bruises.”

Two long tables stood in the kitchen, one where the grandchildren sat and the other for the adults. Mamma, Kate, and Mary set all the food on the adult table and the young ones brought their plates to their mothers to be filled. Kate knew that, at nineteen years old, Elmer was not happy about sitting at the children’s table, but he endured it good-naturedly. Twins Ben and Joe, at four years younger, didn’t care where they sat as long as they were supplied with plenty of food.

Naturally, the attention at supper centered on Kate. Dat enlightened the family about her injuries, briefly repeating what she had told him. Already uncomfortable with the way Aaron looked at her, Kate was glad Dat had spared her the embarrassment of telling the tale herself.

“And now we will talk no more of it,” Dat said, focusing a stern eye on Aaron. “What’s done is done. Our Kate is home.”

A knock at the back door interrupted Dat’s lecture. Mamma jumped from her chair and opened the door to a little boy no bigger than a peanut.

“Well, bless my soul, if it isn’t Daniel Herschberger,” Mamma said, ushering the boy inside as she did every other visitor to the Weaver home. “What can we do for you, Danny?”

Daniel looked around the overflowing table and suddenly became shy. He sidled next to Mamma and nibbled on his fingernail.

“Where’s your dat?” Zeb asked.

“He’s with Lolly,” Danny squeaked.

“Your cow?” Dat said.

Danny nodded. “Jah. Dat is wondering if you could help with the calf.”

“Too stubborn to come without a fight, is she?” Dat said, smiling. Even though poor Dat had taken only two bites of his supper, he was more than willing to help at a moment’s notice. He quickly rose from the table and lifted his coat from the hook. “Lead the way, Danny,” he said as he opened the door and followed the boy into the chilly spring evening. He left a full plate of food and took his empty stomach.

It seemed as if Aaron had been eagerly awaiting Dat’s departure so he could deliver a much-needed lecture to his disobedient sister. “This is what comes of seeking the world, Katie,” he said. “The Englisch are ungodly and violent. You belong here in the community.”

Anna, Zeb’s wife, looked uncomfortably at Aaron and promptly changed the subject. “Tell us what you have learned at school, Kate. You are so brave to go to such a big place all by yourself.”

Dear Anna. So considerate of people’s feelings—noticing what others would not.

“It has been very difficult in some ways, especially at first,” Kate said. “I am still so far behind the other students. Luckily, the academy emphasizes performance rather than academics, so someone with my background isn’t completely lost.”

Aaron’s wife, Ada, sat next to her husband, her nose turned up ever so slightly. “And what have you learned in your fancy new school?” she said.

Kate ignored the petulance in Ada’s tone. “I have heard such beautiful music that sends my heart to God,” she said, glancing in Aaron’s direction instead. Then she turned her attention to Anna. “There are oratorios that soar to the high ceiling of the cathedral and operas that would make you weep.”

“Life is full of enough sorrows. What need have we to go looking for them in the theater?” Zeb said.

“Because of the stories they teach. They reveal evil and good so you may learn the difference and love the good. They show compassion and cruelty so you may choose the good way. The stories can point you to God.”

Aaron shook his head. The others at the table hung onto every word she said, some uncertain, others enthralled.

Kate put down her fork and folded her hands in her lap. “Our opera workshop just performed an opera about a girl, Angelica, who lives as a nun in a convent because her family has rejected her.”

“She is Catholic?” Ada said.

“Yes, and when she was young and unmarried, she gave birth to a boy, and her family took him from her and never allowed her to visit.”

“What happens to her?” Mary said.

“When she learns her son is dead, she takes her own life. It is very, very sad.”

There was a long pause at the table. “And when it is all done,” Zeb said, “how does it bring you to God?”

“Angelica,” Kate stuttered, “longs for acceptance from her family. But they are unforgiving. In the opera, you see the pain her family has caused her. You ache for their forgiveness, for Angelica. And you say to yourself—Who must I forgive today? Who is in pain and needs my love?”

Mamma wiped a tear from her cheek. “Jah, we all must ask God every day.”

The spell broke when Ike’s five-year-old son, Elias, came to the table with plate in hand, asking for more potatoes. No one was eager to return to the subject of Kate’s schooling, especially Kate. Ike asked Zeb about the corn he was planting this year, and the conversation moved safely to other topics. Kate had neglected to mention that she sang the role of Angelica, and every performance she could not keep the tears from flowing when the little boy ran into her arms to greet Angelica in heaven.

Better not to tell. Better that Aaron and Ada not have one more reason to chastise her. Kate scolded herself again for being so petty. Why did she feel threatened by Aaron and Ada? They loved her and only had her best interests at heart. Didn’t they?

With supper nearly over, Aaron, who must have thought it a great burden to remain quiet, started in on Kate again. And since he was the eldest, no one but Dat would tell him to hold his tongue. To make matters worse, Ada’s father was the bishop of two districts, and this seemed to make Aaron believe he held some sort of authority over his siblings.

“Are you home for good this time, Katie?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You will never get a husband if you keep going away,” Aaron said.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Aaron,” Zeb said. “Kate is very pretty. The boys take to her like bees to honey. We older brothers could never keep them away before.”

“But now is different,” Aaron said. “I’ve heard talk.”

Mamma lifted her head. “What talk have you heard about my madle?”

Aaron waved his fork in Kate’s direction. “The longer she stays away, the more influence the world has over her. She will find it too hard to pull back and be baptized. Who will want to marry her?”

Ada nodded, all too eager to share the gossip. “To be honest, I am surprised she chose to return to us at all. They say Kate is worldly. And too old.”

“That is idle talk,” Mary said. “Kate is only twenty-two years yet.”

“Jah,” Aaron said. “Exactly. Her
rumschpringe
has gone on for six years. Most boys and girls choose baptism after two or, at most, three years. People start to wonder whether she will join the Church at all.”

“Let them wonder,” said Ike.

“The boys want Plain girls,” Aaron said, putting a stop to any disagreement. “Not the worldly, vain sort. There might be a widower to take a fancy to her, if he’s not picky. But a man who wants to be the bishop or a minister someday will not come near her.”

A dull ache settled in Kate’s stomach. Could Aaron be right? Most of the boys who had once offered to drive her home after Sunday-night singings and youth gatherings were married or courting.

A knock at the back door interrupted the conversation. “Who now?” Mamma said as she rose. She opened the door and then threw out her arms in welcome. “Look who is here,” she exclaimed as she pulled a smiling Nathaniel King into the room.

Kate’s heart did a single somersault before settling into a rapid thudding in her chest. Remembering how he was once the boy with cooties who’d kissed her on the playground, she felt her face get hot. Remembering the feel of his hand on her cheek earlier in the day, she felt her face get even hotter.

“Ach, I am sorry to interrupt,” Nathaniel said, removing his hat and still grinning widely. “I thought supper would be over.”

“Do not be uneasy, Nathaniel,” Mamma said. “With all the goings-on today, we started supper almost an hour late.”

“I brought some tea and ointment for Kate,” Nathaniel said. Looking at her, he seemed to flush as red as Kate imagined herself to be. “How are you feeling?”

Kate brought her hand to her cheek self-consciously. “I am better.”

Mamma pulled Nathaniel farther into the kitchen and removed the sack slung over his shoulder. “Cum, cum. You must have some snitz pie with us. It is from the last of the dried apples. You’d think with fifty acres of apple trees I would have dried more fruit last fall.”

“No, denki. I do not want to pester you.”

“You don’t like my snitz pie?” Mamma said with a pout and a twinkle in her eye.

“Jah, of course, Emma. You are the best cook in Wisconsin,” Nathaniel said.

“Then cum, sit,” Mamma insisted, pulling another chair up to the already crowded table and directing Nathaniel to it. Sheepishly, Nathaniel slipped into the chair at the corner of the table across from Kate, crammed nicely next to Zeb and Anna.

In unison, Kate, Mary, and Mamma went to the long counter to cut and serve the pie. Kate gave her mother a meaningful look and pointed silently to her lip. Mamma only giggled and plopped a dollop of whipped cream onto one of the pie slices.

Once they served the pie, Mary, Mamma, and Kate sat down again to eat. Kate’s return to the table seemed to remind Aaron of his duty to call her to repentance. And Nathaniel’s presence did not deter him.

“Nathaniel,” Aaron said, “you are of marriageable age. What do you seek in a worthy wife?”

Never losing that enchanting smile, Nathaniel said, “Do you know someone you want me to meet?”

Kate pulled her eyes from him and stared faithfully at the piece of pie in front of her. Why did Aaron have to stir things up?

“I have been telling Kate that a man does not want a wife who flirts with the temptations of the world,” Aaron said.

Ada fixed her gaze on Nathaniel as if he were the only person at the table. “My sister Sarah would never dream of turning her back on our ways. She is nothing but completely faithful.”