The Amish Bride (32 page)

“Really? Well, she probably had all the other recipes in her head. And she was always improvising.”

“One of the pictures in the game is of a baby—the only drawing of a person.”

“Oh?” Mom said.

“Do you think it’s of a particular baby?”

Mom didn’t answer.

“Mom?”

“Let me think about it,” she said. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

I heard Rosalee coming in the back door and decided to use that as an excuse to end the conversation. I’d gotten the information I needed and didn’t want the subject to change to Freddy. I said I needed to go and after a goodbye from Mom, I hung up and left my phone on my bureau, picking up the tin and the recipe book and hurrying down the hall to the kitchen.

Rosalee had the pail of milk on the counter, ready to separate.

“How about an omelet?” I asked.

“Oh, no. I’ll make scrambled eggs. You sit and look at your things.” She motioned toward the table as she pulled the separator out from under the kitchen sink.

I hesitated, knowing my omelet would be better, but I couldn’t very well insist when it was her kitchen. I spread the symbols out and then matched them to what I found in the book. There were more herbs: larkspur, evening primrose, anise, lavender, basil, lily of the valley, sage, and parsley—those were the ones I recognized or that she’d identified by name in the book.

“Look at all those birds,” Rosalee said. She stepped closer, two eggs in each of her hands. “She always liked birds and had a ton of birdhouses. My
daed
took those down over the years. She liked watching birds. She said you could learn a lot from the way they acted. But she liked observing everything in nature. She said nature was God’s canvas, and every time we made something—dinner, a table, a garden, a painting—we were continuing His creation.”

She turned back to the stove.

“Do you think Sarah was right?” I asked.

Rosalee’s glanced over her shoulder at me. “Well, it depends on whether I’m baking dessert or cooking dinner. That was the thing with
Mammi
Sarah—she was creative to the core and found such joy in all of it. But as far as her symbols and drawings, they are beyond me. Maybe they were entirely for herself.”

When we were ready to eat, I moved the book and tin to the end of the table and Rosalee led us in a silent prayer. The scrambled eggs
were overcooked and rubbery, and the tomato juice she’d canned last fall needed salt. But the apple streusel, pulled from the bakery shelf yesterday, was heavenly. By the time the meal was over, I felt thoroughly satisfied, not just in my stomach but throughout my being. I knew that feeling wouldn’t last for very long—I missed Ezra too much for that—but in this moment, I allowed myself just to sit and take in my surroundings and think about how the Lord had turned so many of my problems into blessings.

Truly, God was good.

L
uke spent the middle week of May cultivating the corn while Millie and I tended the garden in the afternoons. Besides weeding, we harvested the early vegetables: radishes, lettuce, and spinach. I suggested we make a spinach quiche in the bakery because we had all the needed ingredients, including the eggs. Two slices sold, but we ended up eating the leftovers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Often, in the early afternoon, Eddie would come sit in the bakery and have a glass of milk and a snack. I would sweep, wash tables, clean the windows, and do other tasks while he ate. Sometimes he would put two chairs together and curl up and take a nap. As much as I liked to bake, my favorite time of the day was when he was in the bakery with me. Every once in a while Luke would come in too. He’d have a cup of coffee and sit with Eddie. Sometimes I would catch him looking at me. He would blush and look away then. He wasn’t talking with me any more than when I first came. In fact, there were times when I wondered if he resented my living with Rosalee altogether.

Business at the bakery was the slowest it had been since I’d started working there. Monday of the third week in May, Rosalee sent me out to work in the garden with Luke. Eddie was with him, and they both had hoes, so I headed to the toolshed and retrieved another one.

“Come work by me,” Eddie said as I approached.

I made my way to a row of half-foot high potato plants next to him. Luke called out, without greeting me, “Mound the soil around the bases of the plants like you’re building a hill. Just don’t scrape down deep—you don’t want to scar the roots.”

“Got it,” I said, watching Luke for a few moments. Turning my attention to the plant at my feet, I did the same.

Eddie missed a plant and I redirected him. We were now right by each other. He told me about feeding the calves at his place as we worked. “
Daed
says it’s time to wean them,” Eddie said, his voice sorrowful. “That’s been my favorite job. That and sitting with
Mamm
.”

“How she’s doing?” I asked

Eddie stood up straight and rubbed his back like an old man. “She’s tired.”

“From what?”

Eddie shrugged and began hoeing again. “Life, I guess. It’s been one thing after another.” He sounded even more grown up than he usually did.

“Really?”

He nodded solemnly. “That’s what I overheard
Daed
say. First the cows got diseased. Then the well broke.”

“Eddie,” Luke said, his voice low. “That happened a long time ago. Years before you were born.”

His little brother either didn’t hear him or else he ignored him. “Next the tractor couldn’t be fixed. Then
Mamm
lost another—”

Luke’s voice was still low but very firm. “Eddie.”

“What?” The little boy spun around.

“That’s enough.”

“Ella don’t care.” Eddie swung his hoe back and forth as he spoke. “Right?”

I deferred to Luke, but when he didn’t say anything I answered. “Of course I don’t mind, but what Luke is saying is that some things are to be talked about only with family members and not outsiders.”

“Well, no one in our family talks about this stuff.
Daed
just did one time, to Tom. And you’re family? Right?”

I smiled at him. “Actually, no.”

“You couldn’t court her someday if she was,” Luke said, a mischievous look on his face.

He grinned. “Got it!”

We continued to hoe as Eddie prattled on about the new chicks that had just been delivered to their farm. I thought about their
mamm
and what could be wrong with her. Perhaps she had one of those conditions that made a person tired all the time, like fibromyalgia or chronic fatigue syndrome. Or maybe she was depressed. It certainly sounded as though the family had had their fair share of troubles. But, on the other hand, they still had their dairy farm. And each other. And Rosalee for support. And their district. Things could be a whole lot worse.

After a while Eddie put down his hoe and wandered over to the tulip tree. It was in full bloom now, its pinkish flowers brightening the entire property. Eddie picked up one that had fallen and returned with it, handing it to me as he grinned.

“Thank you.” I took it and, with a flourish, pushed back my head covering and tucked it behind my ear. “Tulip trees are my absolute favorite.”

Eddie clapped.

“It’s not actually a tulip tree,” Luke said. “It’s in the magnolia family.”

I made a face at Eddie and then said, “Thank you, Professor Kline.”

Luke leaned against his hoe. “Just thought you might want to know.” His eyes sparkled again. “Wouldn’t want you to be misleading Eddie or anything.”

“No, we wouldn’t want to do that.” I patted the little guy on the shoulder, bumping his hat. “Now back to work.”

A few hours later, after we’d had lunch and the dishes were done, I walked down to the bakery to relieve Millie, who had only been filling in for Rosalee because she’d gone into town to the bank. Eddie was at the counter, asking for a sticky bun.

“You just had lunch,” Millie answered. “So the answer is no. You can either go out and help Luke or come back home with me.”

“I want to rest here,” he said. The bakery was shaded by the century-old trees that surrounded it and surprisingly cool, but it was the hottest day of the year so far and humid. He had his hat in his hand.

“It’s fine with me, Millie,” I said. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

She sighed, and I regretted butting in. Eddie was her responsibility, not mine. She turned to her little brother. “Rest for just a bit. Then ask Ella what you can do to help. Or go find Luke.”

The boy climbed onto a chair at the table closest to the counter. His face was red and his hair was damp. I thought of Zed when he was little and of that little boy smell—a mix of sweat and soil.

After Millie was out the door, Eddie asked me for a sticky bun.

“Later,” I said. “For a midday snack. After you’ve rested and done more work.”

For a six-year-old, even an Amish one, I was sure, Eddie did a lot of chores. He never shirked or complained. I thought Millie was a little harsh not to give him a treat, but I wasn’t about to go against her wishes, especially after I’d already intervened when I shouldn’t have. I poured him a glass of water and he drank half of it down quickly.

“Millie’s mean to me,” Eddie said.

“Why do you say that?” I was refilling the cookie trays in the case.

“She doesn’t want me around.”

“Oh, I think she does. She was happy for you to go back home with her.”

He shook her head. “She’d rather I stay here with Luke. She says I make too much noise. That it’s hard on
Mamm
.”

“Have you told Millie how you feel? Or your
mamm
?”

He wrinkled his nose and then put his head down on his hands. In a few minutes, he was asleep, and I went back into the kitchen, taking the recipe Pierre had given all of us out of my apron pocket.
L’art du pain.
Making bread wasn’t my favorite thing, but Pierre said it was the foundation of life. If we couldn’t master bread, we wouldn’t be successful at baking anything else. That’s why we were going to spend four weeks loafing around. That had been Pierre’s joke, not mine.

As I worked, I checked on Eddie every once in a while. The heat was keeping customers away—at least I hoped that was what it was—and only two trickled in. The boy didn’t even stir when the bell chimed. Getting up at four thirty every morning made for a tired child by the afternoon. And a tired lady. I was certain Rosalee would go back to the house for a nap after returning from town.

Even though bread making didn’t thrill me, it didn’t take long for me to
have a batch mixed up and rising. After I cleaned up the kitchen, put the leftover pastries away for the day, and wiped down the display case, I woke Eddie. His face was as flushed as when he went to sleep so I placed my hand on his forehead. He felt as though he were on fire. I knelt beside him.

“Are you feeling all right?”

He shook his head.

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

He nodded and then finished his glass of water.

I knew he went back and forth through the woods by himself, but I didn’t want him to do so if he wasn’t feeling well. Luke was hoeing the last row of potatoes as we neared the garden. I told him what we were doing and he nodded, and then he pulled a bandana from his pocket, took his hat off, and wiped his face.

“You should take a break,” I said. “And make sure and drink plenty of water.”

He saluted me, which seemed like such a non-Plain thing to do.

Eddie took my hand as we stepped into the woods. It was much cooler here and a slight breeze whispered through the tops of the pines. I breathed in the fresh air. Ahead the sound of a chain saw reverberated among the trees, and I wondered who would be chopping down a tree today, especially when the woods belonged to Rosalee. As we neared, I saw it was Tom and Darryl.

“Hello,” I called out, increasing my stride. Eddie pulled back on my hand.

“What’s the matter?”

“Go around,” he said, pulling me away from the men.

Darryl and Tom both waved and called out a greeting, but they didn’t ask about Eddie or why I was taking him home. The chain saw roared and Eddie clasped my hand tighter.