October song (6 page)

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her imagination guide her, “painting” her canvas of soil and rock.

For now, though, she enjoyed watching her great-grandchildren play in the leaves piled up in the yard and over near the barn, where the wind kept a-shovin’ them in unpredictable bunches. Seemed to her, adults were the only ones who ever thought of the extra work the fall months required, raking leaves and disposing of them, and whatnot all.

But children . now, they were a different story. Even though the youngsters were s’posed to be out there raking, more often than not she’d see them spinning round like tops, making themselves dizzy, then falling into the knee-deep piles. Ach, so much fun they were having. Made her recall her own childhood. Sitting there in her rocking chair, the Wise Woman let her mind wander back a gut many years ….

“Work’s fun, ain’t so?” Mamma liked to say.

Young Ella Mae, on the other hand, preferred board games or books to helping out round the house. Wasn’t till Mamma introduced her to baking, which included sampiing the batter and dough and, of course, eatin’ some of the final product sweet

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oatmeal-and-raisin cookies or chocolate-chip bars that Ella Mae decided work wasfun. ‘Least baking was.

Mam was smart thataway. There were times when she enticed her daughters to redd up the bedrooms, changing sheets and dusting, with the promise of chicken and dumplings for lunch. “The sooner we finish cleanin’, the quicker we’ll eat.” Mamma’s gentle, persuasive prodding taught them by example that work was, indeed, fun.

So whether Ella Mae washed the dishes or hoed the garden, work was play, ‘specially when shared with Essie, her twin sister. A happy home was a place where work represented the love shared.

Once her baby brothers and sisters came along, there was even more joy to be had. Each day they were reminded of the benefits of hard work. And Mamma was always on hand to help turn choring into a game.

The hardest summer of her life started after school ended in late spring the year she was eleven. Ella Mae had been sent off to work the whole summer for her grandparents at their farm. She secretly resented the arrangement, though she had nothing to say ‘bout any of it. For her, the worst thing about working hours and hours every

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day in the hot sun, picking beans or straw berries, or whatever Mammi said to do, was knowing that sister Essie was back at home helping Mamma, whileshewas help ing her aging grandparents, instead of the other way round.

Next summer, Essie and I will trade places,Ella Mae thought, hoping it would be so.

Early one evening, after shelling peas till her fingertips were nigh unto purple, she went for a walk down the main road, which by now she knew by heart. Perhaps it was the sun-filtered haze over the cornfields, the long road spilling out before her, or maybe the gnawing, aching tiredness in her arms and legs, she didn’t know, but she was terribly homesick and considered writing Mamma a letter to tell her so. ‘Course, she wouldn’t say all the pent-up things in her mind just now. Wouldn’t let her emotions run away with her. Truth was, she was madder ‘n a hornet ‘bout being shuffled off away from home at such a tender age. Seemed heartless, almost.

On either side of the road, whitewashed fences and farmhouses, bee-buzzin’ apple orchards, and boundless fields of freshly planted corn lay unchanged after decades. Her people had settled here hundreds of years before, many of them buying up large

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barns, then the houses. A lone cow, shaded by a sycamore tree, watched her blankly, uncaringly as she passed.

Then suddenly, a car crept up on her. Out of nowhere it seemed to come, hardly making a sound. Had she been oblivious to her surroundings, too deep in thought for her own good?

“Say, there, young girl!” someone called to her.

She made the mistake of lookin’ to see who it was. And when she did, she caught sight of a black camera, out the car window, aiming its lens straight at her.

In the wink of an eye, she turned away. Wasn’t gonna be caught unawares. These were surely English tourists out looking for an unsuspecting soul to capture on film. Well, she was smarter than to let some thing likethathappen to her.

So she began to run, fast as her aching legs could manage, makin’ a beeline to ward a red-brick house covered on one side in blue wisteria vines. The farmhouse, turned out, belonged to an Old Order Mennonite farmer and his wife. Cheer fully, they took her in, offering milk and sugar cookies, warm from the oven. She told what had just happened out on the

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road. “The Englischers nearly had me in their camera,” she said, still breathless.

“Well, we’re just glad you thought to come running here to us,” said the farmer’s wife.

“Hate to think what Mamma would say just now,” she blurted out before ever thinking.

The missus had the kindest blue eyes. “Aw, now, don’t go worryin’ yourself. Ain’t your fault what happened.”

She wondered at the time how the Lord God heavenly Father might size up the sit uation. After all, the Old Testament law ‘bout not making any graven image had come straight from God in the first place. So why had He allowed those tourists to make her sin thataway?

Just then she thought better of writing home to Mamma to complain ‘bout being “farmed out.” Instead, she would ask Mamma this very question. See whatshethought.

Meanwhile, Ella Mae had stumbled upon some new friends, discovering the neighbors had the dearest little boys — six of ‘em all in a row ‘cause their mamma wanted a daughter in the worst way. After two boys, they’d had a set of twins and then another set of twins all boys. Ella

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Mae wondered if she wasn’t a glad sight.That’s why they like me,she decided.I’m a girl.t

When she returned to her grandparents’ house, she told Mammi what had happened. “One gut thing ‘bout it,” she said, “I met the neighbors down the road apiece and they invited me to visit anytime.” Mammi assured her that they were God-fearin’ folk, and Ella Mae could go whenever her chores were caught up. Turned out the Mennonite farmers made work as much fun as Mamma always had, and Ella Mae spent many pleasant evenings over there helping with the boys, even baby-sat some off ‘n’ on that summer for a little rare pocket change.

When a letter from Mamma did arrive in the mail, Ella Mae tore it open with all eagerness.

My dear Ella Mae,

It was so nice to hear from you. I’m glad you’re doing all right there. We all look forward to summer’s end and seeing you again. Meanwhile, be a sweet girl and help Mammi and Dawdi all you can.

As for the Englischers and that camera of theirs, you mustn’t worry

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that you did any sinning. On the con trary, really. I don’t know how many tourists I’ve run into, even as a grown woman, who are picture-happy. It’s their fault, not mine. My, my, they just don’t seem to have any manners, pointing cameras at Plain folk. Now, you mustn’t fret over such a thing. God’s love continues to shine down on you. Remember that always.

Essie says “hullo” just now as I’m writing. She’s ever so busy here, helping me with the younger children, cleaning and cooking, and often goes out with Dat, working the mules in the field.

We miss you, but trust the good Lord to take care of you while we’re absent one from the other.

Love, Mare

Ella Mae set the letter aside on the bu reau to read again later, before bedtime.

Essie’s workin” the mules with Dat,she thought.Poor girl.

Well, now, maybe helping out here wasn’t so bad, after all. Worst thing she could think of was working one row after another, the boiling sun scorching you near to death. ‘Least with picking or

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the sun now and then, slip under a shade

tree . . drink a nice tall glass of cold lemonade.

Jah, ‘twas good of Mam to write. Yet seeing the familiar handwriting stirred up the homesickness even more. Fighting back tears, she headed downstairs for evening prayers.

At breakfast the next morning, Mammi lined out the activities of the day. “We’ll weed all the flower beds … the marigolds in the window boxes, too.”

Ella Mae was glad to hear it, ready for a change of pace. Gardening was lots more fun than picking strawberries or shelling peas. But she would work hard, earn her keep and then some for Dawdi to send home to her parents.

She sensed that something had changed in her. She felt wonderful-gut, knowin’ she was truly helping her family by staying the summer long. And being cheerful ‘bout it helpedher.

Seemed that’s how it was during all the rest of July and August, her settlin’ into a routine of hard work on the farm, occasional baby-sitting for the Mennonite children down the road, long nights of rest for her weary body, church attendance on

83Sunday, and twice, a visit from Mamma. Dat, and the family. After their first visit. she decided it wasn’t such a bad thing: them comin’ to see her and then leaving: not takin’ her home just yet. ‘Twasn’l nearly so hard as she thought, actually took the edge off her homesickness.

Come the second visit, well, summer’s toil was nearly past. School would be starting and she’d be going home…

Ella Mae moved away from the window glancing at the day clock over her kitchen stove. Wouldn’t be but a minute and het great-grandchildren would come a-scurrying inside, eager for an afternoon snack She’d give ‘em homemade cookies fro the big apple-shaped jar on the counter maybe slip some chocolate syrup into thei tall glasses of milk. Jah, today she would spoil them just a bit hardworkin’ wee souls, they were. Make a fuss over the children, whose faces were tender and true who looked you straight in the eye whet they talked, whose little features bore the semblance and down-to-earth honesty o: their parents and their parents’ kin before them.

She thought,My, oh my, wouldn’t my husband be mighty pleased if he were aliw

84today our great-grandyoung’uns raking them leaves, tidying the place up. Dirt under their fingernails.

Smiling, she opened the back door, wel coming the laughter of her grandchildren’s offspring and the changing of the seasons both, her hands still a-reekin’ of God’s green earth.

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4

B njamin

Rejoice, 0 young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment.

— Ecclesiastes 11: 9

Awakening to darkness, Katie, in a dreamy stupor, thought surely she was back in her bedroom at Hickory Hollow, that it was time to “rise ‘n’ shine,” hurry into choring clothes, get out to the barn to help with the milking. But as she lay there listening, ears attuned for her father’s call up the steps, she realized she was no longer a girl growing up in the Lapp home. She was a young married woman, curled up next to Clan, her sleeping husband.

Morning’s pale light had not seeped under the bedroom curtains, where cotton fabric gently brushed against the window

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sill. Not a sound was heard, not even the firstpeep-peepingsof a family of birds who’d camped out in the maple tree just yards from their window, birds who’d waited longer than usual to fly south. This being market day, a number of horse-drawn buggies would surely be passing by the house, yet the road was still as night.

Must be nearly dawn,Katie thought, too weary to raise herself and peer over the blanketed mound that was her husband to see the exact time on the illuminated alarm clock.

Lying in the stillness, her drowsiness slowly lifting, she thought of Mam, who’d called the other day, sharing news of a recent visit with Mary Beiler. “She misses ya something awful, Katie. Wealldo.” Mare sounded a bit sad and recounted her morning over at the Beiler home. “Mary’s got her hands full with John’s children, no question ‘bout that.”

“They’reherchildren now, too,” Katie had said, hoping her friend had fallen in love by now with the red-cheeked youngsters.

“Jah but can you just imagine?” Mamma hadn’t said much more, prob’ly catching herself, realizing that Katie, too, had cared deeply for the Beiler brood

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three boys and two girls having nearly become their stepmamma a while back.

“Is the youngest, Jacob, in first grade yet?” Katie had been especially fond of the bishop’s mischievous blue-eyed boy.

“Jah, and he works so hard at school . . Mary tells me.”

Hearing Mam talk up so ‘bout Mary’s stepchildren seemed ever so awkward. “That’s not to say Jacob isn’tschmaert-smart, really. Just got himself an active mind . awful hard to keep his attention on book learnin’ when he’d prob’ly rather be outside catching a frog down by the creek, you know.”

They chatted about several upcoming quiltings, though Mam wasn’t the one to bring up the subject. Katie had asked about one frolic after another. Seemed there were several more round the corner, too, and Mare, when pressed for more information, said she would be helpin’ her daughters-in-law, Annie and Gracie, put up preserves and vegetables for the long winter.

Perking up her ears at the mention of Annie Fisher, Dan’s sister, Katie said, “Oh, and howisAnnie … little Daniel, too?” I(atie hadn’t seen her oldest brother’s wife and baby in ever such a long time.

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Mam chuckled a bit. “Well, Daniel’s growin’ up fast, not much of a baby anymore. He’s nearly two and all mixed up on his sleep schedule. Doesn’t seem much interested in napping here lately.., puts the g in go, I should say. Annie says he’s been getting up in the middle of the night, just a-wailing. Must be he’s cutting his second molars.”

Katie could hardly believe her ears. Elam and Annie’s baby a toddler? Where had the time gone?

Mam asked how she and Daniel were getting along, and Katie caught her up a bit on their lives, telling of one church function after another, of Dan’s and her playing their guitars at small home groups, and her weekly visits to shut-ins with another friend, Darlene Frey. She told Mam that Darlene lived not far from Hickory Hollow to the east a bit and that they’d had such “good fellowship” here lately. She didn’t go too far with that, though. Didn’t say just how close she felt to Darlene these days, them both seem’ eye to eye on certain Scriptures and all.