Pennsylvania Patchwork (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

While she waited for Holly's return, Esther topped off Nathaniel's, Mamm's, and Armin's coffee. Then she heard the truck's engine gunning. Holly would no doubt come back inside moments later with a dejected expression on her face. How Esther wished she could spare her daughter sadness.

Esther sat again, and passed the sugar bowl to Nathaniel. As she watched him add a tablespoon and swirl the white crystals into his coffee, she recalled conversing with Mamm at sunrise today while preparing breakfast.
Subterfuge
is what Holly would call Esther and Mamm's scheming to derail Holly and Zach's wedding. She knew Holly would be furious. But on the other hand, finally, Esther and Mamm were on the same page, in agreement. A new experience for two old women, Esther thought, and chuckled to herself. Well, apparently she wasn't too old to fall head over heels in love with Nathaniel. Nor too old to bend at the knees and join the Old Order Amish church, which she should have done decades ago. The picture of herself confessing her sins—all of them—in front of the congregation and her family and before God, made her insides shudder as if she'd swallowed an ice cube. At least Beth would not be in attendance, since she was not a member.

But as Esther watched her mother nibble her meal, then set her fork aside, she worried Mamm's allegiance to Beth could be an impediment. Surely, Mamm understood that Zach was Beth Fleming's son, unless Mamm's mind had gone
verhoodled
.

Esther listened to the truck jerk away. Moments later, Holly slogged into the kitchen carrying a package. “FedEx,” she said, and handed Esther a carton big enough to hold a shoe box. Esther recognized the return address: The Amish Shoppe. She had to admit to herself she missed the store—her dream child. But not half as much as she'd miss Nathaniel, her mother, or Holly should Esther return to Seattle.

Holly plopped down on her chair. “I wonder what Dori sent you, Mom.”

Esther set the package at her feet. “Maybe she found more yarn.”

“Then why not give it to me when I flew here?”

“She might have just discovered it.” Esther nudged the package out of sight with the side of her foot. “I'll open it later.”

A dog woofed outside. “That's my Rascal,” Armin said. “He must have broken loose when he heard the truck.”

“I love dogs.” Holly's soprano voice sounded invigorated. “Let him in.”

“Nathaniel won't allow Rascal in the house and won't let me bring him over here while I work.”

Nathaniel tapped the table with his knife handle. “Did he or did he not kill my favorite Rhode Island hen a couple days ago? And he steals eggs.” He was acting uncharacteristically grumpy, but Esther could understand he'd grow weary of the dog's shenanigans.

“He won't do it again,” Armin said, between bites.

“Dogs that kill farm stock don't belong on a farm.” Nathaniel forked into his meal.

“Rascal won't misbehave now that I told him not to,” Armin said. “He was brought up in a town, ya know. At least I think he was. If you'd let him in the house he wouldn't go looking for trouble.”

Nathaniel gulped a mouthful of coffee. “Dogs don't belong inside and that's that.”

“Since when?” Holly demanded. Esther thought she sounded impertinent.

“Our
Mudder
never did,” Nathaniel said. “And she was right.”

“What kind of dog is Rascal?” Holly asked Armin.

“Mostly collie. The prettiest dog you'll ever see.” Armin emptied his coffee cup. “Come on, I'll introduce you.”

“You haven't eaten dessert,” Mamm said.

“No matter, I'd better get my chores done.” Armin pushed his chair away from the table. “Looks like it may rain later.”

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at Armin. “Take that mutt back with you, before he catches one of Anna's chickens, if he hasn't already. You hear?”

“Yah, yah, I heard ya.” He stood. “Come with me, Holly. But you're not wearin' those moccasins outside again, are you?”

She giggled as she got to her feet. “Oops, I forgot. No wonder the FedEx driver gave me a double look.”

“He did that because—” His cheeks brightening, Armin glanced down at the floor.

“Because she's prettier than any
Maedel
in the county,” Mamm said.

Now Holly's cheeks were as pink as Armin's.

Armin nabbed his hat off a peg, and Holly her jacket.

“Wait, we haven't prayed again,” Nathaniel said.

“All right, can ya do it now?” Armin bowed his head.

Nathaniel's eyelids compressed and his brows furrowed, he lowered his head for a few moments. The second he lifted his chin, Armin helped Holly wriggle into her jacket and the two were out the door. Their voices wove together as they trailed through the utility room.

“Nathaniel,” Mamm said, “do you think Armin will stick around this time and get baptized?”

“No way of telling. I've never been able to figure Armin out. I don't think he knows what he wants, himself. Too many choices out in the Englisch
world. A man should stay in the community.”

“And find a good wife.” Mamm winked at Esther. “He'd make a right fine match for Holly, don't ya think?”

“Not unless Holly got baptized.” Nathaniel's hand moved to the back of his neck and he gave it a squeeze. “Sorry, Anna, but I can't see it happening. The both of them? And her with another man courting her?”

“You're probably right. Well, of course you are. Unless your brother—” Mamm sent him a coy grin.

“I wouldn't count on it,” Nathaniel said.

“Armin's the type of man Holly likes,” Esther said. Not just his handsome face and stature—almost as good-looking as her Nathaniel—but he was a tad prideful and full of himself, personality traits Holly seemed to be attracted to for no reason that made any sense to Esther. Not like Zach, who was polite and gentlemanly, and equally as handsome if not more. Esther found it extraordinary some Englisch
woman hadn't already snapped him up. Maybe Mamm was right: Zach's distraction—why he was always too busy for Holly—was another woman.

But no matter; Holly was here with her. Three generations of women dwelling in the same household. For now, anyway. She and Nathaniel had still not agreed where the two of them would live when they wed. Probably here, since the
Daadi Haus
was already erected for Mamm—unless Nathaniel built one attached to his home.

Esther removed Nathaniel's plate, every scrap of food eaten, a sign he'd enjoyed her cooking. Gut. “Can I serve you some lemon chiffon pie or peanut butter cookies?” she asked him. “Freshly baked this morning.”

“Sorry, I don't have time.” He gazed up into her eyes and she felt alive with giddiness. Who would have predicted this at her age? Thank the good Lord Esther had not remarried and settled for second best the way many women did. If she'd saddled herself with someone else, her whole life would be topsy-turvy. Yet she could feel, deep in her belly, the grip of guilt for not clinging to her Samuel. Esther had watched a movie,
The Odyssey
: the ancient Greek hero's wife waited years and years for her husband's return in spite of many suitors. She should ask the bishop if she truly was free in God's eyes to marry Nathaniel. She and Nathaniel both should; they floated in the same boat, now that she thought of it.

“Not even a cookie or more
Kaffi
?” Esther said.

“Nee, I must be on my way.” He shot to his feet, strode to the back door, and grabbed his hat. Esther listened to his footsteps on the stoop.

“Do you think something's wrong, Mamm?” Esther asked. “Seemed like Nathaniel couldn't wait to get out of here.”

“He's got an afternoon of labor ahead of him,” Mamm said. “You don't expect Nathaniel to sit around and yak with the womenfolk all afternoon, do ya?” Mamm straightened her wire-rimmed spectacles, which had slipped down on her nose. “Esther,” Mamm said, “you have a faraway look in your eyes.”

“Just thinking about Holly and Armin.” Esther glanced around the spacious kitchen, not an electrical appliance in sight, although the gas-generated refrigerator looked like one. And she didn't miss them. Well, maybe the blender. “You don't really think there's a possibility, do you?”

“I prayed every day you'd come home, and here you are.” Her eyes glistened with moisture. “So yes, I think anything is possible.”

“But they'd have to wait so long for children.” They'd have to attend baptism classes before they could wed, and Esther knew full well how long that took. “If she marries Zach, they could start trying for a family right away.” Esther felt awkward speaking of such personal matters with her mother, or anyone. Old customs from her childhood clung to her like moss on the shady side of a pine tree.

“There are no easy answers in life. If only your brother Isaac were here. He'd know what to do, being a preacher and all.” Using her hands, Esther's mamm pushed herself halfway up. She tried again, without success.

Esther rushed around the table and supported her mother at the waist. “Let me help you.”

“I've been a little dizzy for the last couple days. Nothing serious.”

“
Was fehlt dir denn
? Why didn't you say something?” Esther could feel her mother's ribs. ”Have you lost weight?”

“What does it matter?” Mamm sank back onto the chair. “Ya say I'm going to the doctor's soon. Yah? Maybe she'll have the answer. Or maybe my time has come. Although I don't want to meet our Maker until I see both you and Holly baptized and married—to Amishmen.”

Esther didn't want to disappoint her mamm, so it was best to agree, at least in part. “I'd hoped Holly would be married by now, while she's still young enough to bear children,” Esther said.

“She is young enough. Why, I was her age or even older when I had your brother Isaac.” A look of confusion crossed Mamm's face. “And I had another child after him, didn't I?”

“Not that I know about.”

“I guess I don't remember much of anything anymore.” Mamm knocked a spoon off the table with her elbow. “Ach, I'm clumsy as a chicken up a tree.” She leaned down to retrieve it and her gaze landed on the FedEx carton. “Are ya going to open the box, Essie? Aren't ya curious?”

Esther envisioned her mother's letters inside; Mamm had sent numerous entreaties over the decades pleading for Esther to return. Rehashing old grievances would most likely make her faithful mamm melancholy.

“I'll open it later,” Esther said, and hoped Mamm would forget she'd ever seen it. With her toe, Esther prodded the carton farther under the table.

CHAPTER FIVE

My fingertips luxuriated through Rascal's silky fur as the dog sniffed my pant legs, then licked my hand. He did look to be mostly collie, but darker and with a black muzzle. Maybe some Labrador retriever mixed in.

“Have you had him since he was a puppy?” I asked Armin as we stood at the bottom of the back steps.

“No, he was a stray, sort of like me.” Armin hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “I was inspecting a pair of mules, and Rascal latched on to me, started following. No one knew where he came from, but he was sure hungry enough. And he was fine around the horses.”

“Are you a good boy?” I said, all the time my mind volleying back to Zach.

Rascal wagged his plumed tail and bowed, stretching his forelegs out in front of him like I was royalty.

“He likes you,” Armin said, fluffing Rascal's coat. “I can't say that about everyone.”

“You mean like your brother Nathaniel? Maybe Rascal prefers women over men.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Some more than others.”

My curiosity piqued, I said, “What's the story? Did you and your lady friend in New York break up for good?”

“Yah, a few months ago. It's all over.”

“Is that why you left?” I tilted my head. “And why you're here now?”

His features stiffened. “You surely ask a lot of questions.”

Guess my interrogation was over. “Sorry, Armin, I don't mean to put you on the spot.” But growing up, I hadn't asked enough.

I listened to cars motoring out on the road, a horse and buggy clip-clopping, but no pickup. No Zach.

“Come on, I'll show you the shortcut to Nathaniel's,” Armin said. “He told me to bring shingles over to mend the roof on Anna's shed.”

“Give me a minute, okay?” I dug into my pocket for my cell phone. It had enough juice for several more calls. I punched in Zach's number and got his answering system, informing me to try his veterinary office. Then I tried Beth. I really did need to borrow her electrical outlet. And I missed her.

“Hello?” Beth's voice sounded reticent.

“Hi. It's me, Holly.” I figured she'd seen my number on her caller ID. “How are you?” I wanted to ask if Zach was standing in the very room with her. Then it occurred to me Zach had stopped by to talk about the joyful news—our upcoming wedding.

“What can I do for you?” Beth sounded too formal, like a recorded department store operator, her voice devoid of tenderness or affection. Something was wrong.

“I'm trying to track Zach down.” I did my best to sound upbeat, while uncertainties and reservations rioted through my brain.

“Uh— just a moment,” she said.

I heard muffled voices—one, another woman's. Beth must have her hand covering the mouthpiece to keep me from hearing her. Maybe a family dispute that had nothing to do with me, I told myself. Zach might be miles away, or at his office performing surgery. My mother had promised she wouldn't fabricate, as she had in the past, but I wondered if she'd made up the story about seeing Zach's pickup, or if she'd mistaken it for another. I suspected Mom needed glasses for distance, not just cheaters for reading.

“You still there, Holly?” Beth eventually said.

“Yes.” With my free hand I stroked Rascal's neck, and he leaned into me.

Beth paused. In my mind's eye I saw her trying to hand Zach the phone, but his refusing to take it. Finally she said, “He'll have to get back to you.” Meaning he was there?

“While I have you, Beth, may I bring my phone and laptop over to get them recharged?”

“No—this isn't a good day.” I heard a click; she'd hung up without saying good-bye. My lungs seemed to collapse, emptying themselves of air. I felt sadness enclosing me.

I reminded myself Beth had a husband who often traveled for work. Maybe I'd caught her while he was leaving, amid an altercation. And she had a daughter. I didn't know the situation and was letting my imagination take hold of me.

The sun unmasked itself, revealing azure sky and filling the air with the aroma of warming soil on this coolish mid-November day. Growing up in Seattle, I'd rarely enjoyed a white Christmas, but had heard Pennsylvania winters could be frigid. I looked forward to snuggling by the fire with my honey-bunch while feathery snowflakes drifted to the ground, cloaking Lancaster County. But I wondered if Zach would be stoking the hearth or if I'd spend my days confined to the house alone. Would I be happier living here with Mommy Anna?

“Armin, I'll take that walk with you,” I said, ignoring my heavy legs and sudden weariness.

With Rascal leading, I followed him and Armin out of the barnyard. We crossed the dirt-and-gravel lane and approached a fenced field, which used to be Nathaniel's boundary before he bought my grandmother's property.

Armin unhitched a gate, then closed and secured it behind us. We trod across a harvested cornfield, then stepped through another gate and into a grassy pasture, cushioned with moist soil.

Ahead Nathaniel's black and white Holstein herd grazed. A couple of cows eyed us, but paid little attention. Birds trilled in the background.

“Ya better watch where you step,” Armin said, glancing over his shoulder at me. “Aren't ya glad you wore those rubber boots?”

“Yes.” As I circumvented a pile of manure, I caught sight of Galahad, Nathaniel's dappled gray thoroughbred gelding—a retired racehorse, according to Nathaniel. I felt my skin turn itchy as the rambunctious horse raised his head, ears pricked.

I'd once groomed this majestic animal, but Galahad had worn a halter and was tethered in a stall. Even then, I'd been anxious.

As if reading my mind, Galahad shook his head and trotted toward us, his tail flagging. Could he smell my fear? I slipped my hand in the crook of Armin's elbow.

“Don't be
naerfich
—nervous,” Armin said, and strode toward Galahad. I hoped Rascal would bark and scare the horse away, but he dodged behind Armin and me, a sure sign trouble was approaching.

Galahad picked up speed, now loping directly at us. I clutched Armin's elbow, ducked my head.

Armin raised both his hands and yelled, “Whoa!”

Galahad stopped short, then pawed the ground. I thought he'd rear up and trample us, but he lowered his head submissively. Armin strolled over to the horse, grabbed hold of his mane, and in one smooth maneuver, swung his leg over Galahad's back.

Armin patted the horse's arched neck. “Gut boy.” He reached his other hand toward me. “Ya want a ride?” he asked. “We'll make quick time if we do.”

I shrank back. “Without reins or a saddle?” I tried to sound brave while my heart flung itself against my ribs. “Uh—no thanks.” I'd never ridden a horse, other than the ponies at Woodland Park Zoo as a child.

Armin chuckled, then slid off Galahad's back and landed gracefully. As if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, the horse began nibbling the grass among the herd again.

“How did you do that?” I said, impressed with Armin's attitude and ability. “I thought he was going to run over us.”

“Nee, he would never hurt me. I told you I know horses, and they can sense it. I've always been like that, even when a youngster going to the auctions in New Holland with our dat. When I helped Nathaniel choose Galahad at an auction several years ago I warned him the horse might be too boisterous. He's a gelding but acts like a stallion half the time.”

“You helped Nathaniel buy Galahad?”

“Yah, Nathaniel had asked me to keep my eyes open for a horse that could pass any buggy on the road. I teased him that racing his buggy was prideful. Ya know, just to give him a bad time, because I feel the same way. I selected Galahad here, and told my brother I'd take him off his hands if Nathaniel couldn't handle him. But it's worked out fine.”

“I thought you said you lived in upper New York State.”

“Yah, that's where I finally settled. Every couple years I'd pass by this way, but never stayed. I'd feel like a caged tiger after a few weeks. Strangled, really. I hated to break my mamm's heart over and over, I truly did. But she's gone now and so is our
dat, a month after she passed. Nathaniel sent word. I drove home for the funeral, and I considered staying, since my parents wanted me to have the farm, my being the youngest son and all.”

As we crossed the pasture, I inhaled the multilayered farmland aromas and felt my pulse return to its natural rhythm. Almost. I was still out of my element. I'd need to get used to these animals, I told myself. As the wife of a veterinarian …

I realized I didn't even know where Zach lived. In an apartment or a small house, with a roommate? What kind of a goofball was I? I'd agreed to marry a man I hardly knew.

“Why didn't you return earlier?” I asked Armin, to keep my spinning thoughts from tangling into a knot.

“I was tidying up, you might say. Packing and selling my truck and trailer.” He kicked a pebble. “It wasn't easy giving up my keys.”

“Or girlfriend?”

“I had no choice there.”

“What's her name?”

“Lynnea.”

“A beautiful name.”

“Well, she's a beautiful woman.” He gazed at an oak tree, its elegant branches reaching for the sky.

“Tall and slender?” I said.

“Yah, she is.”

The fact he loved a willowy young woman made me feel short and homely.

“Amish?” I said, and he nodded. “How come it didn't work out?”

“She's still living with her family, and her father told me to skedaddle until I went home, repented to my bishop, and got baptized.”

“Aha.” In other words Armin wanted to marry Lynnea. “But couldn't you just get baptized in New York State?”

“It's more complicated than that. There's another fella—” He pulled his earlobe. “How about you?”

“You know I'm engaged.”

“I don't see an Englisch engagement ring.”

“I decided I don't want one—too fancy for these parts.” Zach had been called to a medical emergency each time we'd set aside to select wedding bands.

“When's the wedding?” he asked.

“We have yet to confirm a date.”

“Ya don't seem very excited about it.” His hand swiped across his mouth. “Never mind, Holly. 'Tis none of my business.”

We ambled over to one of Nathaniel's small outbuildings, next to his statuesque barn, silos, and windmill. Armin yanked the outbuilding's door open, and a musty smell laced with the aroma of milled cedar filled my nostrils. Inside stood stacks of plywood, two-by-fours, and bundles of roofing shingles.

Armin took off to hitch a buggy horse to an open cart, but Rascal stayed with me, supplying the company I desperately needed. As I surveyed the back of Nathaniel's white clapboard house, I noticed the kitchen window was cracked open several inches, allowing the scents of melting butter, vanilla, and cinnamon to escape. I saw movement in the kitchen and made out Lizzie, his housekeeper. And Nathaniel, who must have jogged alongside the road to beat us here.

Through the glass windowpane, I admired Lizzie's plain attire: her lilac-colored dress and dark apron, her pressed white cap, its dainty strings dangling behind her. I recalled the enjoyment I'd experienced dressing Amish for a few days. I'd felt connected to my heritage, like a taproot to past generations. Except I'd never parted my hair down the middle and worn a cap like Lizzie. I might ask my grandma if I could try on one of hers. Yes, I would.

Nathaniel and Lizzie's voices raised in volume. They were speaking Pennsylvania Dutch much too rapidly for me to make out their words. Curiosity spurred me to move closer.

Then Nathaniel switched to English. “How dare you?” he said. “Ya had no right!”