Pennsylvania Patchwork (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Esther knew she shouldn't be watching Holly and Zach, but with Mamm's nose pressed against the glass windowpane, and Esther stabilizing Mamm's arm, she couldn't help but see.

She gave Mamm's elbow a small tug and guided her to the couch. “If Holly catches us spying on her she'll flip out,” Esther said. She'd heard a cell phone ringing outside. She wasn't expecting to hear from Nathaniel until tonight, but hoped Larry was calling Holly to check in. But no, she'd seen Zach surveying his phone. Then his pickup's engine and spitting gravel on the lane filled the air.

Minutes later, as she was covering Mamm's shoulders with a shawl, she heard Holly speaking to someone outside and a dog bark.

“I'll be right back, Mamm. Please, don't you go anywhere.” Esther dashed to the kitchen window to see Armin escorting Holly to Nathaniel's open buggy. He was using Galahad without Nathaniel's permission, she could almost guarantee it. But she had no right to say anything; she wasn't Nathaniel's wife yet, and might never be.

Esther trotted out the back door, down the steps, and over to the buggy. “Holly.” She was glad to see both her daughter and Armin were wearing jackets. Ominous clouds hung over the horizon to the west, meaning rain might be approaching. “Do you have your cell phone?” Esther asked her.

“Yup. Larry charged it when he went out to find the nearest Starbucks last night.” She guffawed. “Can you imagine Nathaniel going to the drive-up window at a Starbucks? He'd better get used to it because Larry can't live without his latte fix.”

Armin chuckled, patted Galahad on the rump.

“What about—Nathaniel?” Esther's tongue felt too big for her mouth and garbled her words. “Have they arrived?”

“Mom, they just left. Larry said he'd call when they do.”

“Of course.
Simbel mir
—silly me.” Esther hoped Larry didn't drive like a maniac but wished he'd hurry up.

“I'll let you know the minute I hear anything concrete,” Holly said. “Unless you want me to stay home and call Mommy Anna's doctor to reschedule her appointment.”

“No, you go have fun. I'll use the phone shanty if I need it. I think after Mamm rests today she'll feel good enough to see Dr. Brewster tomorrow as planned.”

“You want me to leave my cell phone?” Holly dug it out of a pocket. “Doesn't that make sense?”

“Yah, I guess, as long as Mamm doesn't see it. If it rings, she won't like it one bit.”

“Here, Mom.” Holly sounded testy. “I put the ringer on vibrate, so you'll feel it. I saved Armin's number to my contact list. You can call him to reach me for the next couple hours.”

“Armin, you have a cell phone?” Esther said.

He shrugged. “Yah, I know Nathaniel wouldn't approve, so I keep it turned off most of the time.”

“No, I don't suppose he would.” If Armin got baptized he'd have to ditch it unless the bishop gave him special permission, for business use only.

She noticed one of the chickens on the loose again. “Armin, when you get back I want you to mend the chicken coop.” She scanned the barnyard. “Where's Rascal?” Had the dog broken into their coop? At least he was the opposite of Samuel's parents' mongrel. A dog takes after its owner, she'd once heard. Armin's was naughty but good-natured, while the Fishers' was vicious and domineering.

“Rascal's at home,” Armin said. “He'll be fine. If Nathaniel caught wind I had Rascal running at Galahad's feet, he'd have a conniption. And Nathaniel doesn't want dog hair in the buggy.”

Esther was tempted to tell Armin his older brother would be peeved with his harnessing up Galahad under any circumstances, but stayed her tongue. She was glad Holly was taking off on a distracting adventure instead of pining over Zach. He'd certainly left quickly enough, but she'd ask Holly about their encounter later.

Galahad stretched his powerful neck and mouthed the bit. His ears bent forward.

“Someone's ready to rumble,” Holly said, causing Armin to laugh. He was a fine-looking man, almost as
gutguckich
as her Nathaniel. Esther guessed many an unmarried young woman would snap Armin up in an instant should he come courting. She wondered if he attended Sunday Singings—occasions for young men and women to meet each other and pair up. If so, he could select the prettiest young woman to drive home.

Armin helped Holly into the buggy, then untied Galahad and got in on the other side. Galahad flicked his tail and tossed his head, but Armin steadied the horse like a pro.

Esther hadn't driven a buggy since her late teens, but figured she could handle Mamm's mare, Topsy. Or was Nathaniel fixing to let Esther use his buggy horse in the future? If they had a future.

A few weeks ago, when Holly was back in Seattle packing up, Nathaniel had chosen the docile mare to transport Esther and Anna to Sunday service—a three-hour mental ordeal for Esther, with so many gawking at her. Esther had avoided eye contact, sat in the back on the women's side, and attempted to blend into the walls of their neighbor's living room, all partitions removed and benches brought in to form a vast area to accommodate around two hundred.

Several had greeted her with reticence, but she also received a hug from one of her mother's oldest friends. Ach, they'd probably witnessed Bishop Troyer several weeks ago admonishing both the Gingerich and Fisher families to forgive each other as the Lord directed. Samuel's parents, Jeremiah and Beatrice Fisher, lived in a different district, but no way around it: she would run into them eventually. Had they really forgiven her, when Esther hadn't truly forgiven herself?

“See you later, Mom.”

“All right.” Esther watched the spirited gelding surge forward, like he was in the starting gate at the Kentucky Derby. Not such a bad life for a retired racehorse, thought Esther as she waved good-bye.

She returned to the house to look after Mamm. Entering the sitting room, Esther's hands were itching to knit. If only she had black yarn or the bishop's permission to proceed with the blue sweater. She supposed she should follow Mamm's advice, pull out the stitches, and make a lap blanket instead.

With the stretch of time ahead, she'd write Chap McLaughlin a letter and get it in the post box out front before the mailman arrived, that's what she'd do. With Mamm snoozing on the couch, Esther extracted paper from the small desk against the wall and found a fountain pen and stamps.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I glanced over to survey Armin's manly profile as he stopped Galahad at an intersection. Armin's gaze was glued to the road and his hands steadied the reins as Galahad's front feet pranced in place.

But Armin seemed to know I was watching him. “Where shall we go?” he asked, waiting for an opening in the traffic.

“To see a covered bridge?”

“A bridge doesn't sound exciting enough for a city woman like you.”

“I'd like to see one, if only to make my grandmother happy.”

“In that case, we'll have to cross the busy highway.” He ran his tongue across his upper lip. “Nathaniel told me what would make your mother and Anna happy. For you to stay here forever.”

“That's the plan.”

“Yah? 'Tis the best news I've heard all year.” He lifted the reins and clicked his tongue twice. Galahad took off at a canter onto a wider road, a pleasant three-beat gait. Every joggle and bump sent chills up my spine—a joyous sensation as the buggy swayed.

The wind swirled through my ears and fluffed my bangs. I hadn't paid much attention to the magnificence of the area this last week—I'd been distracted and weary—but today my senses sprang to life, the late autumn colors enriched by the mid-November sun lazing in the sky, casting long shadows. Towering maple trees, their few remaining leaves, blurred into a kaleidoscope of burgundy and umber.

When it came to driving, Armin was every inch as competitive as Nathaniel. He overtook a gray buggy carrying several women, and then another being steered by a bearded gent. Next, we tailgated a minibus packed with tourists; the passengers flew to their back window to snap photos of us. Working the reins, Armin slowed Galahad and made a right turn onto a narrow road.

Breathing in the pastoral aromas, my nostrils welcomed the heady fragrances of drying leaves mingled with damp grass. Layers upon layers, I thought, the leaves and manure had mingled with the soil, nurturing the earth since my ancestors first arrived to escape religious persecution. I wanted to find out more about our family's history.

I admired the expansive barns and silos, harvested fields, and a pasture dotted with grazing sheep. Everything I saw brought me joy.

“I think this might be where Nathaniel took me,” I said.

Armin glanced my way. “What was that?
Mei Bruder
drove you in a buggy?”

“This very one. My grandma requested Nathaniel take me out.”

“Yet he's marrying your mother?”

“Their engagement, what you call courting, took everyone by surprise. Mostly Mom, I'm guessing.” My sight locked onto a stately three-story house adjacent to the grandest barn we'd passed. “That looks familiar.” I craned my neck. “I think it's my grandparents' spread. I've only been there once, on a whirlwind visit one early morning.” I sensed a panicky feeling in the back of my throat as I recalled the both calamitous and phenomenal event—like a suspense novel missing its last chapter.

“Jeremiah Fisher is one of my best customers,” Armin said, enthusiasm fortifying his voice. “I found old Jeremiah his mules, so nicely matched—a beautiful sight to behold.”

“I haven't seen my grandfather's livestock. I never got beyond the front door and kitchen.”

“Why don't we stop and pay them a visit?” he said.

“The last time I came uninvited I wasn't exactly welcomed with open arms.”

“
Puh
. Since we're here, let's give it a try. Jeremiah's always glad ta see me. He loves talking about
Geil
—horses.” Armin piloted us into the driveway, lined with white picket fencing. On one side lay a field once dotted with pumpkins; on the other side, harvested corn. Up ahead stood the imposing three-story house with its wide wrap-around porch I'd first seen at sunup several weeks ago.

I heard barking. His ears back, Galahad turned his elegant head and snorted.

Armin looked over his shoulder. “Oh, no, Rascal's followed us. I wonder if the Fishers still have that fierce
Hund
. It was getting up in years last time I was here.”

“They do. I love dogs, but their Wolfie is hairy-scary.” I turned around to watch Rascal bounding behind the buggy. “Maybe this is an omen.” I gulped as I envisioned my freaky encounter with Wolfie, a black, shaggy beast the size of a Doberman pinscher. “We should take Rascal home.”

“Nah, I can tie up Rascal when we get there. But not until he and Wolfie make their peace.”

“What if they don't?”

“Have ya ever noticed how dogs settle their differences quicker than humans? Sometimes there's snarling and bared teeth, but eventually they come to an understanding.”

“I hope you're right, for Rascal's sake.” His tail raised, Rascal was already ahead of us. “Okay, even if my grandmother doesn't give me the red-carpet treatment, I'd like to see my grandfather and Uncle Matthew, who apparently looks like my father—were he still living.” An unexpected feeling of despair crawled through my chest. When would I be able to talk about Dad without choking up?

“Don't ya worry about a thing, Holly. I can handle it.”

“Thanks.” A wave of fondness for Armin rolled over me.

“Nathaniel told me that at a nonpreaching Sunday, Bishop Troyer came to Anna's and straightened the Fishers out. Beatrice agreed to forgive your mother once and for good.”

“A surreal scene if ever there was one.” I felt on shaky ground again. “I guess most animosity was resolved. Still, a lot of questions were left unanswered.” Like the letters Grandpa Jeremiah said he sent Mom and me. He was an old gent; maybe he'd meant to send letters but never did. Or most likely Beatrice never gave them to Mommy Anna to forward. Upon circumspection, a reasonable person, Beatrice included, would ask for our address and send them herself. I refused to allow the vision of Mommy Anna's discarding them to contaminate my mind.

“Nathaniel said the bishop didn't require them to make kneeling confessions,” Armin said.

“They're rather old to get down on their knees.”

“How are your knees, Holly?”

“Meaning?

“Would you ever attempt to join the Amish church, if the bishop allowed it?”

“Right now, sitting in this buggy in the most beautiful place on earth, my first inclination is yes. But how long would it be before I wanted to use the Internet and my cell phone? Although I wouldn't mind wearing a loose dress and apron and no makeup.” Mom never wore makeup and looked pretty. I'd heard even Oprah went in public without it, but most days I hid behind a facade of liquid foundation and mascara.

Rascal's bouncing gait lurched to a halt as humongous Wolfie launched from the barnyard toward us with canine teeth bared.

“Whoa.” Armin told Galahad, the horse rearing on its hind legs, then finally settling on all four.

The dogs—bug-eyed and hackles raised—circled each other. After much posturing and sniffing, Wolfie stalked over to a smallish elm tree and lifted his leg, then lumbered to the back stoop, where he sat growling.

“Rascal, you stay with us,” Armin said, and jumped out of the buggy. He found a coil of twine behind the bench and fastened it to Rascal's collar. “Don't you dare get into mischief, ya hear me?”

Armin put out his hand to help me down. I hesitated, frozen with indecision. Wolfie wasn't the only contentious individual I dreaded tangling with.

“Armin, I want to tell you ahead of time, Jeremiah Fisher's wife, my Grandma Beatrice, doesn't accept that I'm their granddaughter. Way back when I was conceived, before my dad got drafted into the army, my parents lived in a hippie commune in San Francisco.” My voice grew faint. “Beatrice accused Mom of cheating on my father.” Pinched brows, hollow cheeks, and a pointy chin is how I recalled my grandmother. I was glad my father hadn't inherited her looks and volatile temperament.

“Does Beatrice not see a family resemblance?” Armin asked, not dispelling my fears.

“My mother says my father's hair and eyes were the same color as mine. But how many other people have brown hair and eyes? Millions.”

My thoughts cavorted back to my conversation with Zach. He'd claimed Victoria had refused to have a paternity test performed on little Justin. Did I dare ask the Fishers to participate in one to put a final end to Beatrice's skepticism about my being their granddaughter? I could understand why she didn't trust my mother if the past were the best predictor of the future.

“I don't get why your father wasn't exempt from serving in Vietnam,” Armin said. “Surely he told the army he was nonresistant.”

“I don't know the circumstances, but I guess he was arrested and then given a choice: enlist in the army or jail time. Apparently my father was last seen on the helipad during the evacuation of Saigon.” I felt myself sinking into a quagmire. “Dad was the only living GI from his unit who didn't make it back to the States that day.”

“I'm sorry, Holly, really I am.” Armin tethered Galahad to a hitching post and brought the horse a bucket of water. Then he offered me his hand. “You wanna come in the barn with me?” he asked.

“Sure.” I doubted I'd run into my grouchy Grandma Beatrice outside the house. I hopped down from the buggy and we moved toward the expansive white barn, twice the size of ours. Silos and a corncrib stood majestically beside the barn, and a lower structure appeared to be adjoining it, along with numerous outbuildings.

Armin slid open the barn door and stepped into the cavern, dark save a lantern casting an amber-hued glow. “Anyone home?”

“Yah, over here.” I recognized my Granddad Jeremiah's crusty voice, then saw his crown of silvery white hair and his beard that I doubted had been trimmed since the day he got married. He wore a thick work jacket, boots, and hat.

“Hi,” I said, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. “I'm back.”

“
Gude Mariye
, Holly. What a fine-gut surprise to see you.” His arms wrapped me like I was a priceless gift. I leaned into him and let the knowledge that I brought him happiness pour over me.

When he let go of his grasp, I said, “It's wonderful to see you. I hope you don't mind our stopping by.” I patted my hair in place, trying to subdue it.

“Nee, I'm delighted. We should have invited you over weeks ago, but my Beatrice has been suffering from lumbago. I've been taking her to the chiropractor, and she's getting better. Still, I should have stopped over to Anna's ta see you.” One arm encompassing my shoulder, he turned to Armin. “You got a
Gaul
picked out for me? I don't need another, but I'm always willing to look. You know me when it comes to horses.”

“Fact is, I'm taking a vacation from dealing in horses.” Armin's mouth drooped on one side, then he seemed to recover his gleeful spirits. “Instead, I brought you Holly.”

“And I thank you.” Jeremiah leaned back to better see me. “She's more valuable than any horse,” he said.

As the men spoke, I canvassed the interior of the spacious barn, the vaulting rafters, bales of hay, stalls, and a potbelly stove with a couple chairs nearby.

“Matthew and I have been reinforcing the goat pen,” Jeremiah said. “You might have heard, a coyote or a dog recently mangled a goat in your district. Tore her up pretty bad, which makes me doubt a coyote was the culprit. It would have taken its prey home to its lair, don't ya think? Not many animals kill for sport.”

Armin smoothed his jawbone. “Maybe a bear?”

“I got ta tell you, Armin—as a friend—there's speculation your dog's the culprit.”

“My Rascal? He never would.”

Jeremiah put up a hand. “No one's accusing, mind you, but I thought you'd want to know.”

“Yah, I'm glad ya told me. But I keep him locked up at night.”

“Gut idea.” Jeremiah shuffled to the potbelly stove, latched its door, then turned to us. “You two want to join me for Kaffi and pie? Rachel, my daughter-in-law, came out a few minutes ago to tell me she'd brewed up a fresh pot and cooked apple crisp.”

I remembered gracious Rachel, Uncle Matthew's wife, who'd welcomed me weeks ago on an early morn and functioned as a buffer between Grandma Beatrice and me.

“I should get back home,” I said. “Mom might need help fixing lunch.”

As if reading my thoughts, Jeremiah said, “Beatrice and I live in the Daadi Haus, so you most likely won't see
mei Fraa
unless I fetch her. Our son Matthew and his family dwell in the main house.”

“A quick cup of coffee sounds too good to pass up,” Armin said.

Grandpa Jeremiah led the way out of the barn, a serene place I planned to explore at length when I had more time. How would I get here? I'd have to break down and buy a car or learn to use Mommy Anna's horse and buggy.

“Where did you tie your horse?” Jeremiah asked Armin.

“What?” Armin let out a gasp.