Huckleberry Hearts (3 page)

“I guess it does,” Dawdi said, pulling out a chair and joining them at the table.

Mammi shook her head. “I don't think you're going to hell, dear.”

“I know,” Cassie said. “But I don't understand why. You are two of the most dyed-in-the-wool Amish I know.”

Dawdi snatched a cookie off one of the plates and took a bite. “There are eight billion people on this planet yet, and I have a pretty hard time thinking that God created all those children just to send them to hell because they're not Amish. My job is to live my life the best way I know how and leave the judgment to Him.” He leaned back in his chair and pushed his lips to one side of his face.

Cassie laughed. “Be careful, Dawdi. That's pretty radical talk.”

“I usually keep it to myself.”

“Felty, you are so smart,” Mammi said. “I had no idea there were that many people in the world.”

“No smarter than you are, Annie. You know how to make gingersnaps without a recipe. And they're so tasty.”

Cassie eyed the gingersnaps on the plate. They looked like maple-brown golf balls. How bad could they be? Mammi would be pleased as punch if she ate one. It made Mammi so happy to see people enjoying her food, or rather pretending to enjoy it. No one but Dawdi actually enjoyed Mammi's cooking.

The second Cassie picked up a cookie, she knew it was a mistake. Not only was it the size of a golf ball, it was as hard as one too. She'd break her teeth if she tried to bite into it.

Dawdi's teeth scraped against his cookie like fingernails against a chalkboard.

“Have you got milk, Mammi? I like to soak my cookies in milk to make them soft.” Would Mammi get suspicious if Cassie's cookie was still soaking at midnight? That thing would never, ever get soft.

“Of course I've got milk,” Mammi said, going to the fridge and pouring Cassie a generous glass. “Iris is a good milker.”

Cassie took a sip of creamy milk before dropping her cookie into her glass. The milk made her feel somewhat better. She could handle Mamm okay. Better today than dreading a meeting later. “I'm glad Mamm is coming. I've missed her. It will be nice to have a chat, just the four us.”

Dawdi leaned forward and took another bite of his cookie. “I have some good news and some bad news.”

Cassie's heart sank.

“Norman is coming and so is Luke.”

Cassie made an attempt to sound more enthusiastic than she felt. “Well. That will be nice. I haven't seen the baby for a year.”

Cassie had seven siblings, all but one older than she. Her oldest sister Sarah married before Cassie had even been born. Sarah's daughter Beth, Cassie's niece, was older than Cassie.

Norman and Luke were the siblings closest in age to Cassie. Norman was two years older and Luke just a year younger than Cassie. Luke tended to keep his opinions to himself, but Norman was more than happy to call Cassie to repentance on a regular basis. He was one of the reasons she came home so infrequently.

Mammi tilted her head as if she were listening to something that no one else could hear. “They're coming.” She leaped to her feet and went straight to the door. “We should probably move all those goodies so the table can be set.”

Heedless of the cold, Mammi opened the door and charged outside to greet the new group of visitors. Cassie self-consciously smoothed her hair before helping Dawdi move the seven plates of rock-hard cookies to the kitchen counter. Luke would probably eat them. Luke ate everything.

Cassie's mother came in the door first, even ahead of Mammi, who was busy hugging one of her great-grandchildren. Mamm's measured gaze immediately pierced through Cassie's skull, as if taking stock of Cassie's deepest desires and the condition of her soul. Her assessment must not have been favorable. She narrowed her eyes and shook her finger at Cassie before she even took off her coat.

“What have you done to your hair? You look ridiculous, like a peacock with all those curls flying around your head.”

Nothing like, “Cassie, it's so good to see you. I've missed you so much
.
” Cassie sighed inwardly. She really hadn't expected a warm greeting, but a little kindness would have been a pleasant surprise.

“I'm sorry, Mamm,” was all Cassie could think to say. She certainly didn't want to argue or make a scene in front of her grandparents or her siblings. It always went this way. She'd say anything, make any concession, apologize for things that weren't her fault, just to keep the peace. She'd been apologizing to her mamm for two decades.

Mamm was a wiry yet sturdy woman of sixty-five years with salt-and-pepper gray hair and deep worry lines around her mouth and eyes. As the oldest of Mammi and Dawdi's thirteen children, she'd learned how to be bossy at a very young age, and she'd never grown out of it. Cassie's
dat
had passed away when Cassie was ten years old, and Mamm's bossiness had only gotten worse. As a widow, she hadn't waited for the community to help her out. She'd rolled up her sleeves and taken charge of her life, finding ways to support her large family without burdening the community. Cassie had always admired her strength, the way she charged through obstacles and made a good life for her children without relying on anybody but herself and God.

But being such a fighter, Mamm was also vocal and opinionated, which meant she usually got what she wanted because no one dared cross her.

Except for Cassie.

Cassie had done the unthinkable when she had decided not to be baptized. Of all Mamm's children growing up, Cassie had been the most compliant, never mustering the courage to poke a toe out of line in Mamm's well-ordered household. Her decision to leave the community had thrown Mamm completely out of her predictable routine and had made Cassie the target of all her wrath and frustration.

She thought her youngest daughter was going to hell. Such fear might make any mother frantically desperate. Especially an Amish mother.

Her brother Norman strolled into the house with his youngest son Paul propped on his hip. Norman and his wife Linda had three children. Priscilla, their oldest, was barely four years old. Jacob was three, and Paul had turned one on Christmas Day.

The last time Cassie had seen any of them was at Christmastime a year ago when she had come home for a short visit, made shorter by the fact that Mamm had ordered her out of the house until she humbled herself and chose to be baptized.

Without a word of hello, Norman planted himself next to Mamm as they studied Cassie's unacceptable hairstyle. They looked like two stone pillars tasked with holding up the
Ordnung
all by themselves.

“Are you wearing makeup?” Norman said.

It's good to see you too, Norman. I sure have missed your constant disapproval.
“Hello, Norman. Paul is getting so big.” Unable to resist a baby, she reached out and took Paul from Norman's arms. Neither Paul nor Norman opposed her. Cassie might be a heathen, but they all knew how good she was with babies.

Norman's wife Linda came next, with Priscilla and Jacob each holding one of her hands. “Cassie, how nice to see you.”

Linda was a petite woman with chestnut brown hair and a constant smile on her face. It didn't seem to matter how her husband felt about Cassie, Linda had always treated her with kindness. Whether she thought Cassie was going to hell remained a mystery.

Cassie kissed Paul on his velvety soft cheek. “Oh, Linda. He's beautiful.”

“Almost twenty pounds,” Linda said. “As solid as a tub of lard.” She hefted little Jacob into her arms. “Do you remember
Aendi
Cassie, Jacob?”

Jacob shoved his finger in his mouth and eyed Cassie as if he'd never seen her before. Nope. He didn't remember.

“What do you think of her hair?” Norman asked Linda.

“A lot of
Englisch
girls wear their hair like that,” Linda said, apparently unwilling to say anything good or bad about it.

Resisting the urge to defend herself, Cassie handed Paul back to Norman and squatted next to her niece. “Priscilla, you have grown so tall since last Christmas.”

Priscilla remembered her. She threw her arms around Cassie's neck for a hug and then pulled away and twined her finger around a lock of Cassie's hair. “Pretty,” she said.

Mamm took Priscilla's hand and tugged her away from Cassie. “
Nae
, Scilla. It isn't pretty. It's vain. Vanity is a sin, and don't you forget it.”

Cassie longed to point out that unkindness was a sin too, but Mamm prided herself on always telling the truth and in her mind she was only protecting her granddaughter from the influences of a wicked world.

Cassie winced. The pain of her mother's condemnation still stung after eight years. Still, the hurt wasn't the open wound it used to be. And she always had Mammi and Dawdi who loved her no matter what.

Cassie's younger brother Luke entered carrying what must have been their dinner. With a pot holder wrapped around each handle, he hefted one Dutch oven in each hand. Luke, tall like Dawdi and sturdy like an oak, was the one the family called on for heavy lifting.

“Stew and cherry cobbler,” Luke said, lifting each Dutch oven in turn and giving her a half smile as if wanting her to know he was happy to see her but not wanting to offend Mamm by being too happy.

“It's wonderful gute to see you, Luke. You're getting blacksmith arms.”

He didn't even try to hold back the grin that overspread his face. “I hope so. Nobody trusts a scrawny blacksmith.”

“She cut her hair,” Norman said, refusing to let his indignation die a welcome death. The Apostle Paul said long hair was a woman's glory, and Amish women didn't cut their hair from the day they were born to the day they died. That Cassie had cut and styled her hair understandably upset her letter-of-the-law brother.

Luke fell silent and stared at her with a mixture of affection, pity, and irritation in his eyes. Cassie wasn't altogether sure if he was directing the irritation at her or Norman. Maybe it didn't matter.

Mammi didn't let them wallow in the uncomfortable silence. “Let's eat. I'm starving.”

Some sort of wall seemed to come down, and everyone moved to get dinner on the table. After setting the Dutch ovens on the stove, Luke went to the cellar and brought up four extra chairs and the leaf to the table all at the same time. Cassie and Priscilla quickly set plates and silverware, while Linda opened a bottle of chowchow and heated up some green beans and Mamm stirred the contents of one of the Dutch ovens.

Despite the disapproving looks Mamm gave her every time they passed, it was the kind of activity Cassie remembered fondly—the whole family working together to get dinner on the table. The Englisch were worried about getting ahead at the expense of precious relationships. A gaping loneliness yawned in the pit of Cassie's stomach as it always did when she thought of her Amish roots. She didn't belong here, but nowhere else seemed like home.

She sat between Dawdi and Mammi as the others took their places around the table. All except Mamm. She stood next to her chair as if waiting for someone to pull it out for her.

“I ain't never found it very comfortable to eat while standing,” Dawdi said.

Mamm squinched her eyebrows together and glared at Cassie. “This is disgraceful, and I won't sit until it's made right.”

Dawdi rubbed his hand down the side of his face. Cassie tensed. Just what specifically did Mamm find unacceptable? Cassie had left the community without being baptized, so the strict rules of shunning didn't apply to her. While shunned members were required to sit at a separate table to take their meals, she felt comfortable eating at the same table with her family.

“Is there something wrong with the stew?” Mammi said. “Did you use Mary Schrock's recipe? She adds too much paprika.”

“I refuse to pray at the same table with Cassie unless she puts on her prayer covering.”

Cassie pushed down the hurt, pressed her lips together, and stifled the urge to sigh.

Mammi's eyes twinkled with amusement as she reached over and patted Cassie's hand under the table. “Very well,” she said. “I don't mind if you stand.”

Norman's chair screeched against the floor as he pushed it back and stood. He'd probably forgotten for a minute how indignant he should be and had accidentally sat down before consulting Mamm. “I would like Cassie to wear a covering too, as an example to my children.”

Mammi scolded her eldest daughter with her eyes. “We discussed it earlier and decided that eight billion people are not going to hell.”

Mamm frowned. “It's not seemly to pray uncovered. I fear for Cassie's soul.”

“Maybe you should fear for your stew,” Mammi said. “Mary Schrock is a dear girl but doesn't know the first thing about using paprika in moderation.”

The tension in the room felt like a gas leak that only needed a careless spark to ignite. Linda stared faithfully at her plate while Luke's glance darted between Cassie and Mamm. Only baby Paul was oblivious to the drama. He sat in his high chair and banged his little hand on the tray.

Cassie didn't want to be responsible for ruining dinner. She'd certainly brought her mamm enough heartache. If donning a prayer
kapp
would cool Mamm's temper, she'd gladly agree to it.

It had always been that way. She would have done anything to keep the peace—except for the little matter of her leaving the church.

“It's all right, Mammi,” Cassie said. “I like paprika. And I will put on a kapp if that's what Mamm wants.”

“It's not what I want. It's what God wants.”