The Preacher's Daughter (10 page)

A fine meal by the best cook ever,
he thought, going and slipping his arm around his wife's stout waist. Accustomed to his furtive interest prior to meals, she lifted the kettle lid. Jesse leaned into the fragrant steam, eyes closed, breathing in . . . then turned to the woman he loved and planted a kiss on her soft face. ‘‘Keep this simmerin' a bit longer,'' he said, winking.

‘‘Why, sure.'' She smiled knowingly, leaning toward him.

‘‘I'll be makin' a quick trip out.''

‘‘All right then, love,'' she said. ‘‘Stew and corn bread will be waitin'.''

With the memory of the mouth-watering aroma lingering, he hurried out to hitch up his fastest driving horse to the family carriage.

Annie found Yonie already starting the afternoon milking. She stood near the center aisle of the milking area, seeing two rows of cows' hind parts and tails, and below, the manure ditch. She waited for Yonie to see her, and when he did, she motioned to him.

He sauntered over to her once all the cows were hooked up to air compressor-run milkers. His hazel eyes were bright with the question. ‘‘Well?''

‘‘I did what you said. But Daed's goin' to think about it. So who knows.''

‘‘You worry too much.'' He flashed an infectious grin.

‘‘Seems to me I'm allowed to fret a bit.
You
haven't spent nearly a lifetime writing to Louisa Stratford. This might be my only chance to meet her.''

He frowned momentarily, and then there came the twinkle in his eye. ‘‘Hmm. Stratford. Sounds like a high and mighty name for a
best friend,
ain't?''

She didn't know where on earth he'd gotten the idea Louisa was that close to her. Not unless Mamm had mentioned something, which was unlikely. Other than their mother, nobody knew of Annie's close friendship with Louisa except . . .

‘‘Wait a minute! Have you been talkin' to Mrs. Zimmerman?''

Yonie grinned. She'd caught him. ‘‘That's for me to know and for you to find out.''

‘‘Well, I just did!'' She should've put it together the instant Yonie had declared Louisa as her best friend. Mrs. Zimmerman was their busybody mail carrier, and her daughter, Dory, was one of the prettiest English neighbors around. So Yonie was interested in the local girls—just not Amish ones.

Yonie suddenly looked sheepish.

‘‘Aha!'' Annie exclaimed. ‘‘I'll keep your secret if you keep mine. Jah?''

‘‘Nothin' to keep, you silly.'' With that he turned back to attend to the milking.

I know better,
she thought, for she'd seen the blush of embarrassment on his face. Well, no wonder Yonie wasn't so keen on attending singings and other youth activities. She just hoped he didn't do something stupid, like fall hard for the wrong girl . . . like Louisa had surely fallen for the wrong fellow.

She headed back to the house, hoping to hear something soon from Daed, trying to remain optimistic.

‘‘As a father, I'm concerned 'bout Annie's worldly friend,'' Jesse told Moses Hochstetler at the elder minister's kitchen table, where they drank their coffee black.

‘‘What's that?'' Moses asked, struggling to hear.

Jesse thought of writing down what he wanted to discuss, that his daughter's pen pal wished to come for a lengthy visit. And he sure wouldn't want to tempt his youngest sons with a modern girl in the house.

He moved closer to the elder minister and proceeded to speak directly into his ear. ‘‘Our Annie's got herself a worldly friend who's lookin' for a dose of the simple life.''

A glint of recognition passed over the furrowed brow. ‘‘Ah, jah, she's a right good one . . . your daughter.''

‘‘I'd like to keep it that way,'' Jesse muttered.

As if Moses had heard, he adjusted his glasses, studying Jesse. ‘‘What's this 'bout an Englischer? She's not comin' to spy, is she?''

Jesse reiterated that the girl, as far as he knew, was looking only for some respite from the world.

‘‘Well, sure. Why not have her come, then?''

‘‘I've got myself three sons still in the house. It wonders me if it's such a good idea to bring a fancy girl under my roof.'' He pondered Yonie, especially, who seemed to be working his way toward the fringe. ‘‘Sure wouldn't want my boys taking a shine to Louisa. We can't be losin' any more of our young folk.''

Moses cupped his ear with his gnarled hand. ‘‘In all truth, the Englischer might just be the thing to push Annie off the fence, so to speak. Could be a wonderful-good idea.''

Jesse couldn't imagine such a thing.

‘‘Well . . . I know we must be patient with our youth.''

Moses nodded his head, as though pondering further. ‘‘This worldly girl might be a godsend, the answer to your problem. Might move Annie closer to joinin' church, her friend bein' so interested in our way of life.''

‘‘Hadn't thought of that.''

‘‘But I hope the outsider won't cause any confusion in our midst, 'specially in your house, but that she'll receive the peace she seeks,'' Moses said. ‘‘I would also hope she might fit in with the womenfolk here . . . go along with Annie to market, quilting bees, and such.''

Jesse finished his coffee, still thinking of Annie, who was not past her rumschpringe. He wished she would continue to attend the youth activities and find herself a new beau.

Getting up from the table, he waved his hat, thanking Moses for the coffee. He hurried out to his horse and carriage, anxious to return to his wife's delectable beef stew.

Riding along the countryside, Jesse waved at acquaintances in several passing buggies. Then, once he'd passed the most worrisome intersection, he leaned back, contemplating Moses' agreeable nature. Such a compassionate, upstanding man he was, but his days of prophesying were surely a thing of the past. Since taking a hard fall on the ice years back, not only had his hearing been greatly affected, but his ability to stand long enough to deliver the main long sermon had, as well. Old Moses, as some of the People referred to him, could no longer remember the required sequence of biblical stories and Scriptures to accompany them. So, then, was it even possible he was right? That spunky Annie might simply need to encounter firsthand a worldly friend to nudge her closer toward making her lifelong vow to God and the church? Only time would tell.

Chapter 10

O
n Friday Annie made haste to Cousin Julia's. Once her work was done, she would have more time this afternoon to paint, since she'd finished up every piece of ironing last Tuesday. Still holding out hope for Louisa's visit, she thought of her present painting in light of her friend's artistic achievement. Far as she could tell, the scene depicting the setting of the kidnapping was her best work yet. All that was left was the highlighting of tree trunks and branches, as well as making sure the sunbeams skipped off the creek water as it made its way past the old bridge.

I want Louisa to see it,
thought Annie.

As she walked, she thought of all the places she wanted to show her friend, but most of all she wanted to share with Louisa her private little artist's sanctuary.
She's heard all about it in my letters . . . and she'll keep my secret, for sure!

When Annie reached the Ranck home, she caught sight of James and Molly playing ‘‘horsy and buggy'' in the side yard, where James had his little sister tied to a cardboard box, with the rope ‘‘reins'' in his hands. Molly appeared to be quite a lot better, and Annie was glad of it.

‘‘What's that you're doin'?'' she called to them. ‘‘Seems to me Molly ought to be the one riding in the carriage, and James, you could be the big strong horse.''

That got big smiles from both children, and right away James began untying and switching the horse and driver. ‘‘Molly's bumps aren't so itchy no more,'' he said, pointing out several on his sister's arm to show Annie.

‘‘Jah, I can see that.'' She stood there, watching James work the knots out of the slender rope he'd put around Molly's little arms. ‘‘You must think you're Amish today, both of ya.''

‘‘That's right,'' Molly said, eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘‘We're just like you.''

‘‘But you never bring your father's horse and buggy over here, do ya, Cousin Annie?'' James never even looked up at her, just kept untying the rope.

‘‘By the time I hitched up, that would take a good thirty minutes, so why not just walk over here in the same amount of time?'' she explained.

‘‘Or you could hop in a car, like we do, and get here even quicker.''

She tousled his hair, thinking he was mighty smart for his little britches. ‘‘Jah, there's a lot of things one could do, I 'spect. But we Amish do what we do for a reason.''

‘‘What's that?'' Molly said, obviously glad to be free and on the other side of the box now, holding the reins big as she pleased.

‘‘Well, we obey our church rules. And, besides, it's much better for us to walk when we
could
be riding. Even better is to hitch up horse and carriage than to drive a car. It keeps us slowed down some . . . not in such an awful hurry.'' She thought she might be stepping on some toes, so she stopped right there. After all, the Rancks were as fancy as anyone around here, being Mennonite and all.

‘‘I wish we had a horse and a buggy,'' James said, moving his head as if he were a prancing steed.

The grass is always greener,
she thought.

James was off running now, with Molly behind him, hurrying to keep up. She smiled over her shoulder at them . . . so adorable. She thought again of Rudy and what a fine father he might have been. But he was off going to singings and taking someone else home, and rightly so.

Refusing to fall into a quagmire of self-pity, she hurried toward the house and got right to work redding up the children's rooms upstairs. Then she set about cleaning the large bathroom, thankful not to have that chore to do at home. With an outhouse, there was much less upkeep, she decided, although there were plenty of times, especially in the winter, when she would have liked to close the door on herself and the large tub Daed brought into the kitchen from the shed, where she and Mamm got the Saturday night bathing routine started. At least she was usually first or second, not nearly as grimy as the boys and Daed always were. Of course, she and Mamm often took sponge baths in the privacy of their rooms, using a large washbowl and a kettle of hot water. Same thing her grandparents had to do, because they were too frail to get in and out of a tub anyway. The boys and Daed would slip out to the makeshift shower in the barn and rinse off every other day, though they complained of it being cold as ice in the wintertime. Still, there was nothing worse to Annie than feeling dirty.

She and her sister-in-law Sarah Mae had often had conversations about such things. And now, Sarah Mae and Jesse Jr. and their children lived in a farmhouse with two large bathrooms— approved by the ministers, because they were merely renting the place. Occasionally Annie had even hitched up the team and gone over to enjoy their bathtub in the heat of the summer, soaking away the cares and soil of the day. Sometimes, too, Sarah Mae let her use her very own bubble bath, which was a special treat.

Ach, no!
She was nearly aghast at the thought of Louisa, who was used to taking as many as two showers a day.
Oh, goodness! Shouldn't I write and tell her?

But she would do nothing at all to discourage Louisa from coming, if Daed allowed it. Annie found herself grinning.
Louisa might just wish she'd never longed for the simple life!

Exhausted from precious little sleep, Esther felt her muscles beginning to relax now as she tucked in both Zach and John for, hopefully, a long afternoon nap. Little John had awakened with an asthmatic attack at midnight, and she had held him while sitting up in the rocking chair in his room, making sure he was breathing. Making sure his struggling cries would not awaken Zeke, too.

Now she sat on the double bed, reaching over to put her hand on John's tiny forehead. ‘‘Close your peepers,'' she said to both boys, and they blinked their eyes shut obediently.

Sitting there, she gazed down fondly at them, nearly like twins in looks, and so close in age, but quite different temperamentally. Zach was similar to big sister Laura as a young one, easygoing and anxious to please. Baby John, on the other hand, was restless and more apt to have upset stomachs, like Esther herself was these days. He had started out quite frail due to his breathing problems—
a predisposition to upper bronchial problems,
the Strasburg pediatrician had told them early on.

She realized how awful small her little boys looked in their big bed. ‘‘Sleep tight,'' she whispered, absently touching her abdomen, where yet another baby grew. She left the door open enough to hear John should he begin to wheeze again.

Sighing, she tiptoed to her bedroom, in desperate need of rest before Laura arrived home from school. The thought of standing and making supper was beyond her at the moment, and she dismissed it till later. She wished she might simply slip into her nightclothes and sleep soundly, dead to this world, and absolutely irresistible was the urge to do so. Yet she shuddered at the thought of making herself too vulnerable. Two other times she'd done so, but no longer. These days she kept all her clothes on, including her long apron, even on the hottest summer day during a rare short nap. Today would be no exception.

She turned to close her door but thought better of it, still on edge from last night's frightful spell. Not knowing if their wee boy would live to see the light of day had caused her an ongoing heartache. Yet he had, and she attributed his recovery to the inhaler she kept near for such alarming occurrences, although five months had passed since the last episode. What a true relief the rather long reprieve had been. Still, her heart feared there might come a day when she would merely sleep through his nighttime attack.