Pennsylvania Patchwork (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

With her daughter lollygagging upstairs, Esther dipped the serving spoon into the casserole.

“What's keeping Holly?” Mamm buttered a slice of bread. “We'd better go ahead without her.”

Esther noticed Mamm taking a bite. Never had Esther seen her mamm eat before praying.

“Jeremiah, would you lead us in prayer?” Esther hoped he hadn't noticed.

“Honored to.” He lowered his head for the silent prayer, followed by an amen, then raised his head. “Kind of you to have me over, Anna and Esther.”

“Our pleasure,” Mamm said. “'Tis too quiet since my sons moved away. One day, when I'm feeling better, I'll visit them in Montana and see my grandchildren.”

“I didn't realize you'd been ill.”

“I feel fine today, just a little achy. But don't all old people have that complaint?” Mamm favored her good hand but was using both of them.

“Mamm's been avoiding her doctor,” Esther said, then wished she hadn't. Not that he wouldn't notice Mamm's erratic behavior on his own soon enough. She was eating her buttered bread upside down!

“Maybe your physician will have your answers tomorrow morning,” Zach said.

“Ach, tomorrow?” Mamm grimaced at Esther. “You made another appointment?”

“We went over all this. Your lab results have been in for weeks.” Esther placed the casserole in front of Jeremiah, and gave him an ample portion. Next she moved to serve her mother. “They had an opening this afternoon, but I thought you'd prefer to wait until tomorrow.”

“I'd prefer to wait until never. I was just at the doctor's.” She pointed to her forehead.

“Yah, they did a good job stitching you up.”

“You fell?” Jeremiah said.

“Lost my balance, nothing serious.” Mamm smoothed grape jelly on the other side of her bread.

Holly entered the room empty-handed. All eyes pivoted to watch her perch next to Zach, who immediately stood to help her into her chair. “That looks delish, Mom,” Holly said, and scooped a small amount onto her plate.

Jeremiah nodded. “Yah, 'tis
abbeditlich—
delicious. But where's that wretched doll?”

“Upstairs in my bedroom,” Holly said. “Why ruin everyone's meal speculating over it when we don't even know if the sender has the right Mrs. Samuel Fisher?”

“I'd like to have a look at it, anyways,” Jeremiah said.

“Okay, after dessert.” Holly filled her mouth, and Esther guessed she didn't want to continue the conversation. Esther was relieved the doll wasn't standing on the counter or table. Maybe Jeremiah would become tired and forget about it. Or Esther could distract him with the letter from Chap McLaughlin.

As Esther swallowed a mouthful of carrot-raisin salad, she noticed Zach glancing fondly at Holly. He was leaning her direction, but she seemed to be tilting away from him. He spoke in her ear and she whispered in his, too quietly for Esther to hear.

“I could drive you there,” he said, using full volume.

Holly shook her head, but the corners of her mouth lifted. “I need the exercise after all this food.”

“May I walk with you?” Zach looked like a ravenous puppy waiting for a biscuit.

“Okay.” She gave a one-shoulder shrug, as if she couldn't care less, but Zach seemed elated.

“You going to see if Armin got Nathaniel's horse back?” Mamm asked. If nothing else, her hearing was still in good shape.

“Yes, I thought I would.” Holly nibbled on the casserole.

“Why he took that feisty Galahad out in the first place is beyond me,” Jeremiah said, and patted around his mouth with a napkin. Then a realization seemed to bloom in his eyes. “Armin must have been showing off for Holly.”

“Yah,” Mamm said. “I bet he's hoping—”

“Mommy Anna!” Holly half stood and bulged her eyes in Mamm's direction. “Please, let's not continue this line of conversation.”

Esther agreed. “It seems there's too much speculation going around. It's akin to gossip.”

“Let's not forget to respect your elders,” Mamm said.

“All the more reason to emulate the teachings of the Good Book,” Esther said, “and set a good example for the young folks.”

For several minutes, everyone concentrated on eating, passing bowls around and helping themselves. Esther wondered if their thoughts were on their meal. Unlikely. Each was orbiting his or her separate universe. When they'd polished off their meals, the timer dinged. “May I tempt you to a slice of schnitz pie or a snickerdoodle?” Mom said, and got up to remove her pie of mashed apples with brown sugar from the oven.

“Smells yummy, but I couldn't eat another bite,” Holly said, and everyone else echoed her statement. Even Jeremiah. Ach, she missed Nathaniel, who would have accepted.

Esther realized she should return Holly's phone to her, or maybe she'd better hang on to it. Especially if Holly were going over to Armin's to check on the lost horse. Esther would miss her chance to speak to Nathaniel. Good or bad news, she ached to hear the sound of his voice.

She supposed the best news to most in the community, even Nathaniel, would be the pronouncement his wife was alive. Wishing someone dead must surely be immoral. Something else to admit before the bishop and beg for God's mercy. She envisioned Nathaniel bringing his wife home with him, then the two arriving at church Sunday, his sitting with the men and her with the women. Worshipping in the same room would be intolerable.

Holly cleared the table in record speed. She set the plates in the sink and filled it with sudsy water. “I promise to wash these when I get home,” she said. “Don't anyone do my job for me. Promise?” She tilted her head. “You coming, Zach?”

“Thanks for the delicious meal,” he said, standing, “and the good company.” He pushed his chair against the table. “I'll be back at nine thirty tomorrow morning.”

A look of confusion crossed Mamm's face, as if she'd forgotten about her doctor's appointment. Good.

But would Jeremiah forget about the doll?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Pretty slick maneuver,” Zach said to me the moment the two of us were outside in the cool fresh air.

“What?”

“The way you managed your departure without showing your grandfather the doll. Although I must say my curiosity's piqued. And the letter has me intrigued.”

“When Mom opened the carton yesterday she and I were stunned, to put it mildly.” I felt a knot growing in my throat. “And there were several yards of gorgeous silk. A vivid fuchsia no Amish woman would wear. Of course, Mom wasn't living a plain life back when Dad was in Vietnam. Still, none of it feels right.”

We crossed the barnyard and headed to the road. No way would I take the shortcut to Nathaniel's without Armin, although Zach was probably as capable at handling farm animals.

“I hope you don't intend to use that stunt when we're married,” Zach said, and took my hand, his fingers entwining mine. A tingling rush like sparkling cider seemed to bubble up my arm, filling my chest with warmth.

“You'd want to marry a woman your mother's snubbing?” I said, and felt a sinking in my chest. I couldn't erase Victoria's and Justin's faces from my memory either.

“Mom's had her chance to select a spouse,” he said. “Now it's my turn.”

“But you picked Victoria.”

“Thank the good Lord she jilted me.” In the past, he'd told me a woman turned him down twice and then ran off with his friend. At least my former cheating fiancé had chosen to marry a stranger. To me, anyway. Who knows how long the two had carried on their clandestine affair?

“I'm sorry you were hurt,” I said.

“By our age, hasn't everyone?” His hand covered mine like a supple glove.

“You're probably right.” I watched two vultures glide in wide arcs above Nathaniel's harvested field. “I've been burned, and I still don't trust my instincts when it comes to men.”

Almost to the road, he paused and said, “Want to tell me about it?”

“Zach, one of our problems is we hardly know each other.”

“I want to know you better.” He lowered his face, then his lips brushed mine. I felt passion igniting as his arms encircled me.

I heard hooves clopping. “Holly!” Armin called.

“Ignore him and he'll go away,” Zach said in my ear.

I stepped back from Zach to see Armin atop the black gelding Jeremiah had lent him, headed in our direction. The animal was not as energetic as it had been a few hours ago. I wondered how many miles they'd traveled.

Armin reined in the horse several yards from us. He'd shed his hat and was wearing cowboy boots, of all things; I guessed he kept them hidden from Nathaniel, because they'd be considered fancy.

“Can't you see we're busy?” Zach said, sounding huffy. “What are you doing with Midnight? Trying to ride the poor animal to death?”

“Nee, I stopped at Nathaniel's and gave him water and feed. He's still got plenty of fire in him.”

“You're nuts. He's obviously fatigued.” Zach pointed to a trickle of blood on the lower half of the horse's rear leg. “Look, he's bleeding.”

“Just a nick from a bramble. I thought I'd cleaned it off.”

“Jeremiah's at Anna's. You'd better not let him see his horse until you do a better job than that. I could clip around the area, cleanse it with Betadine solution, and apply antibacterial ointment.”

“Listen, Dr. Fleming, I know ten times more about horses than you do, no matter how long you went to school. That little cut is going to dry right up on its own.”

“I take it you've had no sign of Galahad or Rascal,” I said, trying to distract the men and deflate their tempers.

“Not yet.” Armin ran his fingers through the horse's damp mane. “I was hoping he and Rascal would have returned to Nathaniel's by now. Lizzie's over there, waiting and watching.”

“She'd be able to handle Galahad?” I asked.

“Sure, Lizzie can coax Galahad with a couple sugar cubes,” Armin said.

Zach folded his arms across his chest. “How is it Galahad got loose in the first place?”

“He broke a tether over at Jeremiah's,” Armin said. “I'm thinking the Fishers' dog scared him.”

“Or perhaps you didn't tie him up correctly?” Zach said.

“You've got your nerve. I know how to tie a horse better than you do.” In an instant, Armin hopped out of the saddle and stood facing Zach. “Look at your hands, Doc, like ya just had a professional manicure. You've never done a lick of real work your whole life.”

The horse, its reins falling to the ground, started nibbling grasses and dandelions growing at the side of the lane.

“I think your big brother would disagree,” Zach said, sounding as if he were suppressing a mouthful of barbs. “And last week I split a half cord of wood for my parents.”

“Stop it, you two.” I stood between them. “While you're arguing, Galahad is still on the loose.”

I could tell by their expressions and the rigid set of their jaws; they had plenty more to say to each other. “Aren't Amish and Mennonites nonresistant?” I said as a last effort to tame their flaring tempers.

“He started it,” Armin said.

“Okay,” I said, “since you two seem to know so much about horses, where would Galahad head?”

“And don't forget dogs,” Zach said. “The Millers nearly lost a goat to a predator. It's barely hanging on.”

“That has nothing to do with my Rascal.” Armin plucked off a tall reed of grass and chewed on its end.

“Can you prove that?” Zach narrowed his eyes at Armin. “Tom Miller told me they saw a dog running along the road earlier today.”

“It could have been Rascal trying to catch up with me.”

“Well, Tom thinks it's the same dog he's seen hanging around his farm.”

“Maybe he has a female dog in heat. Rascal is all male.”

“He wouldn't attack goats, would he?” I tried not to envision the grisly scene.

“Nee. Don't ya see? Zach's putting these ideas in your head so you'll steer clear of me. He's afraid you'll decide you prefer the Amish life to his.”

“Holly would never become Amish,” Zach said.

“That's not what I hear.” Armin tossed the grass away. “Nathaniel told me she wore his daughter's dress and apron, and even figured out how to secure the pins. And he said she relies on her computer less and less.”

“We don't have Internet set up at my grandma's,” I said. But Armin was speaking the truth. And I'd neglected to put on makeup today. Not to mention, I'd all but given up driving.

“She loves riding in the buggy,” Armin said. “I can tell that. 'Tis plain as the pout on your face, but you're too
dickkeppich
—thick-headed—to see.”

“How do you know so much about my future wife?”

“You ain't married yet, Zach. And I hear tell you come to the table with a child you've neglected to mention.”

“Because I only found out yesterday—”

Armin shrugged, palms up. “Either way, I still think Holly would be happier spending the rest of her life with me.”

“Huh?” Was I being pursued by two men at once? No, make that three. My mind scrolled back to high school; I'd been a wallflower at dances, waiting and hoping a cute guy would notice me. Even during college, I'd tried to emulate the popular young women but could never pull off giggling at every mundane statement a date said. And now three eligible bachelors claimed they wanted to marry me. Or were they stringing me along or in some masculine Men-are-from-Mars competition?

“She would not be happy living Amish.” Zach's statement rubbed me the wrong way. “Holly, tell him to get back to finding Galahad and to stop hitting on you.”

“I've never appreciated people ordering me around.” My hand moved to my hip. “I can think of dozens of characteristics about the Amish I find appealing. Like Amish children playing board games with their siblings instead of vegetating in front of the TV set or being mesmerized by video games, and having fathers who stick around home when they can.” Zach could never pull off that feat.

Armin set his hat at a jaunty slant. “We farmers stay on the farm most of the day helping raise and working alongside the children. Amishmen make the best husbands in the world. Not boasting, just telling the truth.”

“Could you live without electricity, Holly?” Zach's strident voice reminded me of a mathematics professor I didn't like in college. “No computers or cell phone? No air conditioners on sweltering days or central heating in winter when the thermometer plunges below zero?”

“Modern conveniences are not what warms a girl's heart,” I said.

“How about the convenience of sleeping in past four thirty?”

“I wouldn't make Holly wake up early when I milk the cows,” Armin said. “I could brew my own pot of coffee, as I have for many a year.”

“What about children?” Zach asked, which seemed too personal a subject to be bandied about.

“All mothers get up when the children rise, don't they—Amish or Englisch?” Armin bent and took hold of Midnight's reins.

I wondered once more why my mother and father had left Lancaster County. I presumed my dad would have returned home, if he'd lived. Yet Mom chose to abandon her family and lifestyle.

I ruminated on Mom's
Rumspringa
; she'd declared it was the worst mistake of her life.

Well, I was too old for running around. I wanted to settle down, and soon.