Pennsylvania Patchwork (2 page)

“You're kidding. You're way too tall and heavy to be a jockey.”

“Not that kind. 'Tis what we call men who buy and sell horses. I've got a
gut
eye for them, if I do say so myself. But to be a horse jockey, I needed to drive a truck to deliver horses twenty to fifty miles away. Sometimes farther. So I kept putting off being baptized, and then I met a woman up in New York State and stayed on.”

“And?” I tilted my head. “What happened? Don't leave me dangling.”

His mouth flattened into two lines.

“Are you still seeing her?” I persisted.

“Nee.” He stroked his rectangular chin. “And you. Are ya single?”

“Not for long. Do you happen to know Zach Fleming?”

“The veterinarian?”

“The one and only.” Standing taller, I felt myself growing in height—even if still only five foot three.

“Yah, our paths have crossed most of our lives.” One eyebrow lifted. “I heard tell his long-lost love is back to reclaim him. And she brought a surprise no man could ignore.”

“What are you talking about?” My heartbeat began to accelerate as if I were running up a sand dune; I couldn't catch my breath. “You must have the wrong Zach Fleming.”

“Beth and Roger Fleming's son?” he said.

I nodded, a spasm searing from my abdomen to my throat, suffocating my words. My hands flew up to cover my ears as I rushed past him to flee from the barn, only to trip on the toe of his boot.

His hand swung out to catch me at my waist. “Something wrong?” he said, helping me regain my footing.

I stepped away from him, fluffed my hair, and tried to appear dignified as ziggy-zaggy notions squiggled through my brain like newly hatched tadpoles.

“No—” I said. “I mean, yes. Everything!”

CHAPTER TWO

Esther sequestered a damp rag and polished the lip of the sink. She was determined to settle her scuttling thoughts as she watched her mother flipping through the pages of the cookbook she must surely know by heart—or used to. Alas, Mamm's memory was vaporizing like frosty dew on a sunny autumn morning, but she had refused to see the endocrinologist again. Mamm's lab results were available, and the doctor was anxious to speak to her. Esther's mamm might have forgotten how much she'd liked Dr. Brewster.

Esther bet Mamm hadn't forgotten Holly's revelation that she and Zach were engaged, or that Zach's sterling reputation was tarnished. Since Holly's return, Esther and Mamm shared a common cause, to keep Holly and Zachary Fleming from getting married—but for different reasons altogether. And Esther feared their truce was temporary. Beth's charm might outweigh Esther's wishes because Mamm loved Beth more than she loved Esther—her own daughter—a wretched reality making Esther's whole stature shrink in on itself.

Her mind skittering through the past like a mouse in the barn, she recalled, at age fifteen, rigging up the open buggy without her parents' permission and sneaking out to meet her beloved Samuel, in part because she suspected Beth was determined to steal him away. A coyote or dog had spooked Dat's pony, and the animal reared, then hurtled off aimlessly, landing them both in a ditch—and Esther in a wagonload of trouble. Dat had watched her like a hawk after that night. But not well enough.

A lifetime ago, she thought. Her father and her former husband were in heaven, and Esther was a grown woman with a daughter to fret about. Imagine, Holly marrying the last fellow on earth Esther would have chosen for her. Unlike Mamm, Esther could live with the fact Zach was Mennonite, although about as liberal a Mennonite as you could find, judging from his and Beth's worldly attire and lifestyle. But Esther couldn't tolerate lying, if that was what Zach had been doing. Not after a deceitful cad in Seattle had already broken Holly's heart.

Esther needed to get honest; Zach's svelte, flaxen-haired mother still rankled her. When he and Holly wed, Beth would transform into her full-fledged relative, an integral part of Esther's life, the other grandma should Zach and Holly have children. Grandma Beth. The words resounded in Esther's ears, bringing on a headache.

She rinsed the rag and folded it in half. She'd sworn she would no longer dwell in the world of what-ifs as the bishop had suggested. Esther would reclaim the serenity she'd awoken with this morning. She'd concentrate on her Nathaniel ambling over for the noon meal. Envisioning his lanky frame, she felt like a teenager with a crush—her heart fluttering with a crescendo of emotions she had thought she'd never experience again.

She glanced out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but saw only the barnyard, the main barn, the vacant gable-roofed cow barn, the outbuildings, windmill, silo, and cylindrical tin-roofed corncrib—and a loose chicken. Another hole in the coop needing mending? She'd ask Nathaniel's younger brother Armin to patch it, although Armin seemed to ignore her requests.

“Did you hear an automobile come and go a while back?” Mamm said, snagging Esther's attention.

Glad for the diversion, she set the cloth aside. “Yes, when Holly went outside. But no door opening and closing, just spinning tires.”

“It sounded like Zach's pickup. But it took off in a flash.”

“With Holly in it, do you think?”

“Nee.” Using an elbow, Mamm supported herself against the counter. “Even our fast-footed Holly couldn't have caught up with it.”

“Then, where is she?”

“Waiting, perchance on the back stoop.” Mamm let out a prolonged sigh. “We've got to put a stop to her foolishness, don't you agree?”

“Yes, absolutely. But she seems determined.”

Mamm shook her head. “Lovesick is what she is. Ach, she'll be heartsick when she learns the truth about Zach.”

“We don't know it's true. I'm not going to say a word without proof.”

Mamm flopped onto the rocker, coming down hard enough to make the hickory chair creak. “Oh dear me, I forgot to put the muffins in the oven.”

“Stay where you are.” Esther slipped her hands into potholders. “I'll place them next to my casserole.” As she opened the oven door and set Mamm's muffins alongside her bubbling casserole she was enveloped with a splendid swoosh of hot air smelling of noodles, ham, and melted cheddar cheese. She hoped Nathaniel would relish her cooking. She'd be the best wife ever. Pleasing him and God would be her top priority.

“Would you go check the mail for me, Essie?” Mamm started the rocker in motion with the balls of her feet. “Remember how you used to love to wait for the mailman when you were little?”

“Yah, I remember.” But Esther felt merely a shred of happiness when she recalled her childhood. She knew her mamm was longing to hear from her sons in Montana. Esther also could see from her mother's pale face, awash with tiny wrinkles, she was too fatigued to make it to the front porch, let alone down the steps without tripping.

“Mamm, you leave everything to me. I'll be right back.” Esther left the potholders by the stove and set the timer, cranking it to twenty-five minutes. She walked through the sitting room, opened the front door, and moseyed onto the porch into the brisk fresh air. She glanced up the road to Beth and Roger Fleming's twentieth-century fieldstone home, with its sweeping lawn enclosed by a split-rail fence, and saw Zach's pickup sitting in their driveway.

Esther descended the steps and strode to the galvanized mailbox—not the homemade birdhouse-shaped wooden one of her youth. She opened it and recognized her brother Isaac's handwriting on the top envelope, addressed to Anna Gingerich. Esther doubted he'd included a note to her. Fair enough: Esther hadn't contacted him. She might gather her courage and write to him, or at least his wife, to see how they and their
Kinner
—children—were settling in. She might skip mentioning she was hiring a driver and taking their mother to the doctor's office the day after tomorrow.

Across the road stood giant maple trees, most of their leaves fermenting on the knee-high grass. In the distance stretched the most sublime farmland on earth. She didn't miss Seattle's hustle and bustle or the odor of automobile exhaust, but couldn't help wondering how the Amish Shoppe was faring in her friend and partner Dori's care. Esther considered visiting Seattle one more time before she started her baptism classes. She would ask Nathaniel's opinion when he arrived.

She longed for his embrace—when Mamm wasn't looking, of course. Public demonstrations of affection were not the Amish way.

Letters in hand, a few of them bills, she entered the kitchen and saw Mamm had fallen asleep, her head at an angle. A formal sounding rap-rap on the back door shattered the silence. The door slowly swung open.

Nathaniel stood in the doorway wearing his hat and work boots. “
Gude Mariye
.” His words seemed stilted.

Esther breezed over to greet the man she'd spend the rest of her life with. He grew better-looking every time she saw him, and soon they'd wake up in the morning together …

Warmth traveled up her neck and into her cheeks. She must be blushing something fierce. “Hello, Nathaniel. You don't need to knock.
Kumm rei.
” Come in.

He swiped his hand across his bearded chin. “I shouldn't.” He took a step back, jammed his hands in his pockets. “I need to get home and speak to Lizzie.”

“You'd choose spending time with your housekeeper over me?”

He stared at the floor. “Nee, you know that would never be so.”

“Can't you speak to Lizzie after we eat?” Esther tried to sound playful, when in fact she felt her chest tighten and her throat close around her words as she envisioned the flirtatious young Amish woman. “We're almost ready. Except for Holly. Have you seen her?”

“No, but I heard voices in the barn. I'll go look.”

He moved into the utility room. Esther followed him and took hold of his forearm. “I've been missing you, Nathaniel. Even though I just saw you last night.” She surveyed his somber features. “What's wrong?” She took his hand and felt clammy skin. “I can tell something's the matter.”

“Nothing for you to worry about.” He worked his mouth, his lips so close she considered kissing him. But he withdrew his hand and reached for the doorknob. “Like I said, I need to get back home. And the bishop may stop by.”

“Has he put the kibosh on our wedding?” she asked. Nathaniel seemed to be deep in thought. Or maybe he didn't understand. “Did you speak to the bishop again?” she said.

“Yah, but not about us.” He turned away from her and opened the door. As he and Esther stepped into the cool air, Holly stalked out of the barn. On her heels sauntered Armin.

Nathaniel plodded down the steps and Esther followed him. “Hullo, Holly,” Nathaniel said.

“Hi, Nathaniel, how's it going?” As Holly and Armin neared them Holly glanced toward the lane leading to the road.

“Hello, Armin,” Esther said to Armin, who scuffed the cement with the toe of his work boot.

Esther was aware of a lack of eye contact between Nathaniel and Armin; maybe Nathaniel wanted time alone with his footloose brother, which made sense. He might wish to encourage Armin to marry and settle down. In fact, cute and sassy Lizzie would be a perfect fit.

Nathaniel had called his younger brother a rolling stone. The description made her think of the old Temptations song, which brought Samuel to mind—her former husband always shadowed the back of her brain. He'd been pronounced dead, missing in action during the evacuation of Saigon, when the popular tune reached its peak. And back then she'd wondered if her Samuel were indeed wandering somewhere, not ready to be found. A preposterous thought.

Esther said, “Want to join us for lunch, Armin?”

“Well, now, I don't know. I haven't finished with Cookie's ointment.”

“Please come in, both of you,” Esther said. She'd only greeted Armin briefly the last couple days. He'd made himself scarce every time he saw her. Did he not approve of her marriage to Nathaniel? “Our table seems too empty with my Bruder Isaac's family gone. We'd love to have you.”

“Are we going to stand out here all day?” Holly asked.

Esther could tell her daughter was irritated, but doubted their conversation was the source of her agitation.

She glanced up to the brewing sky, clouds crowding in from the west, and asked the Lord who was the right man for her one and only Holly. Mamm was dreaming if she thought Holly would dive into the Amish church and be content driving a horse and buggy. Nor would Holly pitch her cell phone and laptop. Yet this Armin chap didn't look so bad, though Nathaniel said he wasn't even baptized.

CHAPTER THREE

The four of us stood in the barnyard waiting for someone else to make the first move.

My mother, all moony-eyed, gazed up at Nathaniel, but his attention was riveted on Armin, who turned his head to watch an undulating flock of starlings. Mom patted her hair; her hands paused at her nape, her fingers searching for loose strands at her bun. Her cheeks wore a flushed girlish hue. She bore little resemblance to the independent woman who owned and operated the Amish Shoppe and had stated she'd never marry again.

Against all logic, nausea snaked through my stomach as I envisioned Nathaniel King caressing her. My molars clamped together. Their courting, as the Amish called it, bothered me. I needed to change my immature attitude, but the child in me clung to my dream that Dad would return—talk about fairy tales. I should be thrilled Mom had found an upright and kind man who adored her. I'd have to get over it: Mom was infatuated with Nathaniel, like my father never existed. Until recently, she'd referred to my dad as the love of her life, a man no other could replace.

“You coming in to join us?” Mom asked Armin.

“Yah, I'll stay.
Ich bedank mich
.” Thank you.

“Unless Lizzie's waiting for you both,” Mom said, which struck me as odd.

A smile fanned across Armin's face. “I'm not the man Lizzie's hopin' for, am I, Bruder?” Armin wore a goofy grin and Nathaniel scoffed.

“We'll both eat here, thank you,” Nathaniel said.

“Gut.” Mom rubbed her fingers against the palm of her other hand. “We've got plenty.”

Hey, wait a minute, why hadn't Zach called to say he'd miss lunch? How rude. An insult to my mother, who'd prepared the meal, not to mention me.

Anger and frustration coiled through my mind.

Mom, Nathaniel, and Armin moved toward the back steps. I followed in their wake like a shriveled-up leaf on the creek behind the pasture. I didn't want Zach finding me standing alone out here looking desperate when and if he arrived. I increased my pace until I'd caught up with them. In the kitchen I stepped into my suede moccasins I'd brought from Seattle. Armin and Nathaniel left their boots in the utility room, washed their hands at the small sink just outside the kitchen, and entered sock-footed. They removed their hats and hung them on wooden pegs by the door.

“You should bring over a pair of slippers,” Mommy Anna told Nathaniel, as he planted himself at the head of the table. “You own this house now.”

“It's on loan to you, Anna.” He scooted in his chair. “For as long as ya want.”

“You're a generous man, Nathaniel,” she said. “I'll find you a pair of slippers myself, the next time I'm out shopping.”

I pulled out a chair for Mommy Anna at the middle of the table, and Armin sat across from her as if avoiding Nathaniel.

In a flurry of seamless motion, my mother set the casserole and muffins on the table, and brought three-bean salad, sliced tomatoes, broccoli salad, and chow-chow from the refrigerator. Then she glided onto the seat next to Nathaniel.

“Shall we thank the Lord?” Nathaniel made his usual guttural sound, and we all bowed our heads as he led us in a silent prayer. Was I praising God? Not really; my thoughts scattered like dried dandelions in the autumn wind.

When Nathaniel cleared his throat and the prayer ended with “Amen,” my mother spoke. “Mamm?” Mom brightened her voice; I recognized the shimmering quality of her sugarcoated incentives. “How about we go shopping for Nathaniel's slippers after your doctor's appointment the day after tomorrow?” she said.

“What appointment?” The corners of Mommy Anna's mouth veered down. “Ya made an appointment without asking me?”

“I was going to tell you as soon as we prayed and served the food.” Mom unfolded a napkin, stretched it across her lap.

“Is Beth taking us?” Mommy Anna asked.

“No, Beth doesn't know a thing about it. I'm your daughter, and I'll hire a driver.”

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?” My grandma had become surly the last couple weeks.

“I only found out yesterday afternoon. Dr. Brewster had a cancellation, and I wanted to set up a ride before I told you.”

“That's wonderful.” I felt a smack of contrition for not placing Mommy Anna's health issues ahead of everything else in the world.

“Ach, I still haven't located a driver,” Mom said. “I got distracted.”

“Maybe Zach could take us,” I said. “Or would we all fit in his pickup?”

“I doubt it.” Mom wrung her hands. “He's such a busy man.”

In a flash, my mind catapulted back to our Seattle home, to the evening she unveiled her well-kept secrets. She'd claimed—my whole life—she had no living relatives, even though she knew I'd longed for a humongous family. I thought I'd forgiven, but I didn't completely trust her or understand her motivation.

“Mom, do you know something I don't?”

She passed the butter. “Not exactly.”

I'd endured a lifetime of my mother's sidestepping the truth, so I pressed her for details. “Please, if there's something I should know.”

“I saw Zach's truck in Beth's driveway a little while ago.”

“It must have been someone else's.” I selected a muffin, then passed the cloth-lined basket to Armin.

“I recognized his pickup.” Mom ladled casserole onto Nathaniel's plate. He seemed awfully quiet. I reminded myself he wasn't a chatterbox type to begin with, and he'd no doubt been up since dawn milking his cows.

“There must be a hundred pickups like his.” I slathered a muffin with butter, watched it soften and melt.

“No, there aren't,” Nathaniel said. “I can recognize almost every pickup in the county.”

“Remember, I've ridden in it.” Mom served my grandmother a scoop of casserole and placed her fork on the edge of her plate like Mommy Anna was a child.

“Why would Zach drive to his mother's, when he knows we're expecting him?” I persisted.

“Unless she summoned him,” Mom said.

“I surely hope Beth's okay.” Mommy Anna had yet to taste her meal.

“I'm sure she's fine.” My mother speared a slice of blood-red tomato with her fork. “Maybe she ran out of sugar.”

“Zach's a mamma's boy?” Armin said, and smirked. He glanced my way as he served himself chow-chow.

“How dare you?” I placed my elbows on the table.

“What?” Armin shrugged one shoulder. “Isn't mamma's boy an
Englisch
expression?”

Mom covered her grin with her napkin.

“You're bad-talking my fiancé,” I said, “and I don't appreciate it.”

“Is it really true you're marrying Zach Fleming?” He scratched his head in what appeared to be an exaggerated manner. “I guess I have my facts mixed up.”

“Armin, have you heard what I've heard?” Mommy Anna said.

All eyes pivoted my direction.

“Best not to spread
en Gebrummel—
a
rumor,” Nathaniel said.

I filled my mouth with muffin so I wouldn't have to partake of the conversation, but it tasted of baking powder and was too salty. Mommy Anna had forgotten sugar and not added enough cornmeal.

My mouth puckered. I gulped a mouthful of water and struggled to swallow.

“Zachary Fleming is a respected veterinarian now,” Nathaniel told Armin. “He brought that ointment for Cookie's leg.”

“Yah, I know him, not a bad fellow.” Armin dished himself a plateful of casserole. “And you're planning to marry him, Holly?”

“Yes, I am.” I considered marching over to Beth's house to see if Zach were really there.

Nathaniel swallowed a mouthful. “Armin, it isn't polite to pry, and you know that. You've been living an Englisch life too long.”

Armin patted around his mouth with his napkin. “Sorry, Holly, no offense meant.”

“I accept your apology.” Armin had a charming personality, not to mention his looks. I bet many women found him irresistible—like hummingbirds hovering around a feeder full of sugar water.

I recalled being drawn to Nathaniel when I'd first met him weeks ago. How dumb was that? But Armin possessed all Nathaniel's good attributes plus a feistiness I found appealing. Or would have, if I were not in love with another man. The moment Zach appeared, Armin's appeal would fade away. Like this nasty-tasting muffin, looks could be deceiving. I set the rest of my muffin aside and hoped Mommy Anna didn't notice.

“You've come home for good, Armin?” Mommy Anna said.

“For a while, anyways.”

My appetite diminishing, I forced myself to consume a few bites of Mom's noodle casserole; I realized she'd been cooking Amish my whole life, but how would I have known?

“Are you planning to join the Amish church?” I asked Armin, and Nathaniel stopped chewing for a moment, as if to better hear his reply.

“I haven't decided.” Armin sneaked a glance at Nathaniel.

“And what's keeping ya?” Nathaniel's terse question came out in staccato.

“I've only been home a few days, and already you're on my back.” Armin set his napkin on the table. “Is this why you invited me in?”

“No, don't leave, please,” my mother said. “Let's all get to know one another.”

“Yah, Armin, I wantcha ta stay,” Mommy Anna said. “No bickering at the table, and no more questions.” Her brows—mere wisps—met over graying sage-green eyes. “We're going to be family soon.”

As if standing afar, I examined my life in fast-forward. I listened to a car putter by, and a horse's clopping and buggy's steel-rimmed wheels on the road out front of the house. But of course Zach wouldn't be driving a buggy. When it came down to it, every man I'd ever loved had cheated and left me. Not that Dad cheated, but he left me when he hadn't needed to. Mom said he was a nonresistant conscientious objector and could have avoided military service during the Vietnam War by applying for a farm deferment. I couldn't fathom why he and my mother didn't return to the safety of the Amish community, where he could have worked for his father or another local Amish farmer.

A truck pulled beside the house and shut off its engine. “Zach.” I folded my napkin, set it next to my plate.

“Nee, 'tis a delivery truck dropping off a package,” Nathaniel said.

“But it could be—” I shot to my feet. “I'll go check.”