Winter’s Awakening (3 page)

Ever since the new year had started, there’d been something terribly different about Joshua, Gretta decided as she slowly walked along the neatly shoveled sidewalk toward the Sugarcreek Inn the next morning. When he’d come over for pie, he’d seemed distant and curt.

Not like his usual self at all.

Oh, he’d smiled her way and complimented her cooking, but his eyes had looked as if they were miles away.

And when her parents had given them a few moments alone in the hearth room, he hadn’t done or said a thing that was remotely loverlike. There they’d sat, side by side on the couch in front of the cozy, roaring fire. Shadows from the flames and the kerosene lamp cast a romantic spell over them both.

But instead of holding her hand or talking about their upcoming skating plans—the way he used to do—he’d
merely held his black felt hat and looked as if he was counting the minutes until he could leave.

In fact, the only time he’d looked like he’d had any emotion in his expression had been when he’d talked of Anson’s trip to the hospital—and his new neighbors’ penchant for sleeping in on Saturdays.

When he’d said goodbye, he hadn’t mentioned when he would see her again. Before, he’d always say that he’d see her at the inn, or that he’d see her at church. Or even that he and Jim were anxious to take her out for a buggy ride.

But he’d done none of that.

After depositing her cape and black bonnet on the hooks in the cloakroom of the Sugarcreek Inn, Gretta straightened her white prayer
kapp
, washed her hands, then joined her friend Miriam in the kitchen.

More often than not, they worked together, which suited Gretta just fine. Miriam made her smile, and was a good worker, too. When they were together, they accomplished a great many tasks with ease.

“So, are we still making cream pies today?”

“We are. Banana, peanut, and coconut.” Miriam, being the type of girl she was, hardly looked up from the pie crust she was fluting. Time on the clock was time meant for working.

Usually Gretta felt the same way. But today she felt more empty than she could recall feeling in quite some time. As she got out a tray of eggs, a gallon of milk, and a box of cornstarch, she murmured, “Miriam, when you
and your family visited the Graber’s store the other day, did you notice anything different about Joshua?”

Miriam’s raven black eyebrows wrinkled together. “No. Now that I think on it, I hardly talked with him at all, Gretta. And when we did, it was only about the pound of bacon I’d ordered. Why?”

“He’s seemed
fremt
lately. Strange.”

“Strange, how?” Eyes twinkling, Miriam leaned closer. “What did he do? Only stopped to speak with you for five minutes instead of the usual twenty?”

“It was more than that.” Still stewing, Gretta slipped on her white apron, then joined her friend behind the counter of the large, old-fashioned kitchen where they’d worked together for over a year. “When he came over for pie last night, he hardly spoke. He left earlier than usual, too.”

“Maybe he was tired.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think that was it.” Though she knew it wouldn’t come out right, Gretta added, “It’s been other things, too. When he walked me around the store, he looked as if he couldn’t wait for me to leave.” She was still too sad to tell Miriam about his anger during their buggy ride.

Ever practical, her girlfriend shrugged. “Like I said, I bet he was just busy or tired. My parents say that the Graber’s store is doing a wonderful-
gut
business. Tourists have found the place, you know.”

Up to her elbows in snowy white flour, Miriam rolled out another circle of golden dough as she continued.
“Think of how it is when we’re baking bread and people want to stop by to visit. It’s hard to knead big batches of dough and be chipper at the same time.”

Miriam did have a point. When their heads and bodies were working in unison, she and Miriam could slice and season and mash fillings for ten applesauce pies at a time…if they weren’t interrupted.

But more often than not, someone was always leaning over the counter and wanting to chat through the picture window that separated the dining room from the vast kitchen. It was rarely the tourists who interrupted them, though. No, the tourists might stare a bit or ask hesitant questions. It was members of their community who liked to talk. The busybodies who had no fear of interrupting their workday.

After pulling down a large stainless steel pot, Gretta opened the refrigerator and took out whipping cream and butter. From the pantry, she brought out the rest of the items needed in order to make the base for their signature creamy coconut cream pies. After measuring out some portions and turning the range on, she got to thinking again. “I guess I’m being silly, just looking for trouble.”

“Maybe so.” Emptying out the last of the dough, Miriam rolled it into a fine ball, then began to form the last pie crust. “My mother says the person who goes looking for trouble will always find it. You’ve got a nice man courtin’ you. You should be counting your blessings.”

“You’re right.” Briefly, Gretta closed her eyes and tried to say a little prayer of thanks. But unlike old
times, she didn’t feel the immediate sense of peace that she usually did.

In spite of her best intentions, she couldn’t forget the awkward silence that had hung in the air after their argument in the courting buggy. Though she and Joshua had never mentioned the episode, it had bothered her greatly. She had always promised herself that she’d never be in a situation like her parents. She’d always vowed never to live in a way where she was afraid to speak her mind.

But now she feared that life with Joshua might be filled with moments just like that.

That evening, after helping her mother with the dishes and her younger sister Margaret hem a new dress, Gretta sought refuge in her room.

Sometimes, it was difficult to keep her usual serene and calm demeanor. Her mother talked like a magpie, always chirping about Gretta’s future with Joshua. As usual, her father said little, seemingly content to keep the women’s conversations to the women.

And Margaret, well, she was on the cusp of adulthood. Now that she was fifteen and in her last year of school, she was preparing herself for other learnings…how to manage a
gut
home and cook and can and garden and sew. All things every Amish girl looked forward to doing one day for a man of her own.

As for herself, Gretta didn’t feel especially excited about her future. While Gretta had always found Joshua to be one of the handsomest boys in the order, and he’d
made her heart flutter since she’d first skated with him long ago, she was beginning to wonder. Was that enough to build a life together? Lately, they’d had little to talk about. The increasingly awkward silences that rose between them were troubling. It surely didn’t bode well for a happy home life.

And oh, but how she hoped for a happy home.

Sometimes she wished the Lord would be just a little more forthcoming about his desires for her. Or at the least, she wished He would have crossed their paths at a later date. Then she’d know for sure that Joshua was the right man for her.

That she wasn’t simply settling.

After pulling off her boots, Gretta curled up on top of the quilt and breathed deep. Now she had the peace and quiet she loved and needed. Now she would be able to pray to her Father and hear his advice.

After exhaling, she sat as still and quiet as she could and closed her eyes. Just like she always did.

Then, opening her mind, Gretta began to pray. She prayed for her family and gave thanks for her friends and her home and her many gifts. Then, almost tentatively, she ventured her questions.

Father, why are all our plans turning topsy-turvy? What am I supposed to be learning from this?

Gretta inhaled as she waited to hear His will. Opening her eyes, she looked around the room, centered herself, then tried again.

Father, I’m truly grateful for everything, but is Joshua
really my intended? Have our troubles started because we’re not meant to be together?

Minutes passed as she waited quietly for the feeling of peace usually provided whenever she reached out to Him. His reply. But once again, none came. What was wrong?

Feeling at a loss, Gretta looked at the other bed in the room, the other twin-sized bed with the matching quilt to her own.

Beth’s bed.

After all this time, to still refer to the bed as her sister’s was a foolish habit. Beth had been gone for ten years.

But even though she was gone in body, Gretta still liked the idea of her sister sharing a room with her.

Beth’s bout with pneumonia had taken them all by surprise. At first, they’d all simply thought she’d had a bad cold. It was only after her skin had grown a shade gray that her parents had hired an
Englischer
to take them to the hospital.

Not two days later, she’d died.

When her parents had returned, they’d become different people. It was like all their own joy and happiness had faded when their oldest child had passed on to heaven. Gretta hated to think anything unkind about Beth, but the truth was, Beth had been no tiny saint. Even at age ten she’d been bossy. Always something of a know-it-all, though Gretta figured every older sister tended to be that way.

But she missed her terribly. Gretta had a feeling that these days Beth—in her usual bossy way—would have had lots to say about their parents’ rocky marriage, about Josh’s inattention…and most of all about Gretta’s waiting around for him to become baptized and propose.

A tiny knock interrupted her musings. “Gretta, can I come in?”

“Sure.”

Margaret peeked around the door. When Gretta noticed that her sister was in something of a frenzy, she said, “What’s wrong?”

“Mamm and Daed won’t let me go to the singin’ on Sunday.”

“Why ever not?”

She frowned. “They say it’s because I haven’t been doing my chores well enough.”

This was not an unusual occurrence. Feeling like a bossy older sister herself, Gretta tried to impart a little bit of wisdom. Something that Beth might have said if she was there in body, too. “You haven’t been doing your chores well at all.”

“I have, too.”

“You haven’t, Margaret, and you know I’m right. You rush through everything like the house is on fire.”

As usual, Margaret ignored the criticism and pointed out her needs. “But Micah will be at the singing. I can’t bear to miss him.”

“If you don’t see him then you’ll see him another time.”

“You’re just saying that because you forget what it’s like to want to be with someone special.”

“I don’t think I’ve forgotten that at all.”

Looking at her with a bit of disdain, Margaret rolled her eyes. “If you’re talking about you and Joshua, I don’t think you’re feeling the same way that I do about Micah.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m happy when I’m with Micah. I feel so happy that sometimes I wonder if my heart is going to beat too fast! You never look that way when you’re with Joshua.”

Her stomach sunk. Gretta hadn’t realized that others had been noticing the changes in her relationship with Joshua, too. But as bad as things were, she wasn’t ready to admit that to her little sister. “I am happy with Joshua.”

“You may be happy, but you don’t feel as strongly as I do about Micah. When the two of you are together, you act like an old married couple.”

“We do not.” The criticism stung—as did the knowledge that her sister was probably right. Sometimes it did seem as if she and Joshua had drifted far apart.

“The other day you two hardly talked at all…just like Mamm and Daed.”

“I hardly think Joshua and I were acting like our parents.” After all, their parents argued all the time.

Margaret raised her chin. “You two were closer than you might think.”

“Perhaps,” she said grudgingly. Now that she thought about it, she and Joshua’s argument had been full of blame and accusations. Since then, they hadn’t had much to say to each other. Everything had been different.

But that wasn’t something she could share with anyone. “Was there anything else you were needin’?”

“Nope.” Margaret flopped down on Beth’s bed, just like she belonged there. Gretta tried not to let it bother her. After all, Margaret hardly remembered her oldest sister.

But still, Gretta resented Margaret’s intrusion, especially since she was being so critical. She had so little time to herself, she cherished every moment of it.

And, well, she really did need some time to sort out how she was feeling. She knew from being around the Grabers that all marriages didn’t simply collapse and turn into mere partnerships of bitter feelings. No, Joshua’s family was boisterous and rowdy, and loving and giving, too. In her heart, Gretta knew that part of why she had looked to a future with Joshua was because she’d been eager to be surrounded by such love.

She needed to figure out why things between her and Joshua seemed so out of sorts. “If you’re not needin’ anything else, I think you should go on to bed.”

“It’s not that late.”

“It’s been dark for hours. It’s late enough.”

With a pouty glare Margaret finally slid off the quilt, wrinkling it in the process. “You sure are grumpy.”

“I am not. I’m fine.”

“Does it have to do with you and Joshua?”

“No.” She closed her eyes, hoping that the good Lord wouldn’t mind too much that she was lying so.

“Oh. Well, if you want to ever talk to somebody at singings besides Joshua, you should visit with Roland.”

“Roland Schrock? Why?”

“He fancies ya, that’s why.”

“I don’t think so.” She tried to recall his behavior the last few times she’d visited with him. Roland was a different sort of fellow. Even tempered and always happy, Roland was easy to be around, but had never sparked her interest like Joshua had.

Truth was, ever since Joshua Graber had taught her to ice skate years ago, she’d never looked at another boy in a romantic way.

“Oh, he does like you. He fancies you something awful. I know I’m right about that.” Pointing to her eyes, Margaret smiled knowingly. “While you’ve been all moony-eyed over Joshua, I’ve seen things you don’t.”