The Preacher's Daughter (9 page)

She climbed off the fence, anxious now to talk over Louisa's letter with her parents, particularly her father.

Won't Daed be chagrined to find out my close friend is a worldly Englischer?
She trudged back toward the house, clinging to a small ray of hope.

Chapter 8

F
inding Mamm alone in the kitchen having another tall glass of apple cider was a consolation. Neither Yonie nor Luke was in from plowing, and Omar wasn't in from the barn snitching the usual chocolate chip cookies, his favorite afternoon snack.

Annie had slipped into the room unnoticed and sat down at the table, observing her mother's purposeful movements—back and forth between the counter where she was chopping vegetables, then to the big kettle on her left, scarcely moving her feet, only her upper body, the graceful rhythm of an experienced cook. Mamm chanted the necessary ingredients, depositing diced potatoes, chopped carrots, small onions, and, last of all, the cubed stew meat, already browned in butter, into the kettle. A bit of paprika, two small bay leaves, some flour, and a dash of allspice, along with the sugar, lemon juice, a clove of garlic, boiling water, and plenty of ground black pepper, and the stew was ready for more simmering.

Mamm turned unexpectedly. ‘‘Oh, goodness, me. I didn't see ya there!''

Annie hoped now was the best time to bring up Louisa's letter.

Mamm tilted her head. ‘‘What's got ya lookin' like that?''

‘‘I was just wonderin' . . .'' She stopped.

‘‘Aw, just spit it out, Annie-girl.''

‘‘All right. Louisa, my pen pal, wants to come for a visit.'' When Mamm seemed not the least bit flustered by the notion of having an Englischer around, Annie added, ‘‘She wrote that she needed some time away.''

‘‘Well, sure, tell her to come.''

‘‘But . . . she might need to stay longer than just a few nights.''

Mamm nodded, still smiling. ‘‘How long would that be?''

‘‘I don't know, a few weeks . . . maybe a month.''

‘‘She's not runnin' away from home, I hope.''

‘‘Nothin' like that.''
Running from her beau maybe
.

‘‘Well, it might be a gut idea to talk this over with your father, 'specially since there are three young men still living in the house.''

She wasn't surprised at her mother's sensible response, but with all of her heart, she wanted to see Louisa face-to-face for the first time ever. She had daydreamed plenty of times about it. Now her chance was here at last, and she longed to stay up late talking with Louisa in person, to see her artwork, and to show her around the farm. And just maybe to get some pointers from a real art instructor who was a wonderful-good friend! These thoughts made her giddy with anticipation.

Annie made her way through the screened-in porch, where boots and shoes were lined up along the wall nearest the door. She hurried around the side of the house and down to the road, going to check for Daed first in the barn. Not finding him there, she climbed the hayloft ladder and walked the expanse of the barn's uppermost level to the wide outside door.

Pushing hard to swing the door open, she stood at the top of the grassy barn bridge, an earthen ramp where they moved the various farm equipment in and out. Looking out at the vast field to the south, she could see Daed and Luke and two teams of mules pulling the handheld plows.

I'll have to wait till later,
she thought, feeling discouraged again as she stood there.

One of more than a dozen barn kitties skittered across the wood floor and rubbed against her ankle. ‘‘Aw, you cute thing. Where's your mamma?''

Going to the far corner of the loft, Annie raised her long skirt to climb onto one of the square bales stacked there. The kitten followed her. Annie sat down and picked up the black kitty. ‘‘My friend Louisa has a gray cat,'' she whispered. ‘‘If she brings Muffin here for a visit, won't that be fun?'' Annie stared at the barn rafters, watching for the bats she knew were up there sleeping the day away. And she held the wee kitten in her arms, feeling its rumbly purring.

How can I convince my father?

She contemplated how her friend might be feeling now, getting so close to her wedding day and then changing her mind. But Annie knew she had done nearly the same thing to Rudy, though she hadn't waited till the last minute.

Just then, she heard shuffling below in the stable area. Silently she slipped down off the baled hay and crept to one of the hay holes, where they dropped bales down to the cattle. She peeked through the opening to see if Yonie was nearby.

Sure enough. Smiling to herself, she called to him. ‘‘Yonie Zook!'' Then she darted back so he couldn't see where she was, teasing him.

‘‘Who's there?''

She could see his wheat-colored hair through the opening in the floor. Annie's favorite of her six brothers, Yonie was only eighteen months younger, part of the reason they were so close. And there was something uncanny about him—he understood her better than all her other brothers.

‘‘Yonie!'' she said again, unable to hold in her laughter.

‘‘Ach, I should know you're up in the haymow, Annie. If ya want to talk, then ya best be comin' down.''

She shrugged. ‘‘Well, you must have eyes on top of your head, brother.''

‘‘Nope, I ain't at all like Daed who sees and hears everything . . . nearly like almighty God.'' Yonie's head popped into view as he climbed up the ladder. He grinned at her, a long piece of straw stuck in his mouth. ‘‘If I was, maybe I'd already have me a girl to hitch up with.''

‘‘You shouldn't have a speck of trouble findin' a girl to marry.'' Annie figured her brother had plenty of time to find the right bride. After all, the boys could marry a girl several years younger . . . so if this year's crop of sixteen-year-old girls didn't take his fancy, then maybe next year's would.

Yonie sat on the edge of the hay hole, swinging his legs. ‘‘Well, look at
you,
Annie. I thought you'd be wed by now.''

Climbing back up the hay bales, Annie reached for the long rope. She swung across the expanse of the loft, her legs tight against the rope so her dress would not billow out. Her feet were so callused from going barefoot early spring to late fall, she was able to cling easily, though her toes strained upward. ‘‘You goin' to the next singing?'' she asked, riding all the way up . . . up toward the rafters and then back.

‘‘Well, if you are, I guess I
have
to go and drop you off, now don't I?'' His eyes shone with tomfoolery.

She laughed, keeping her back straight as a board as she flew. ‘‘Seems to me you could go and stay a mite longer than five minutes. That way you might actually meet a cute girl to take out ridin'.''

He shook his head. ‘‘Got no interest in Amish girls just now.''

‘‘Brave soul, you are.''

‘‘And . . . I have some plans, comin' up soon. But Daed knows nothing 'bout it, so keep quiet.''

She let the rope take her across the loft once again. ‘‘Bet I can guess.''

‘‘Like fun you can.'' He patted his straw hat. ‘‘Unless you've been eavesdropping.''

‘‘Oh, I figure you're not long for here . . . that's what. Soon as all the plowin's done, you'll head out to do some hunting in the woods somewhere with your friends. Ain't so?''

‘‘Well, if that don't beat all. How'd ya know?''

‘‘I heard nothin'. Honestly.''

‘‘Well, then, you're a strange one, 'cause that's exactly what I have in mind to do.''

Still holding the long rope, she said, ‘‘There's plenty of deer comin' down to the hay fields, nearly every evening now. Seems you wouldn't have to leave home to bag yourself a buck or doe.''

Yonie frowned. ‘‘I've thought of spending daylight in a tree stand, but the deer can spot you a quarter mile away. Honestly, though, just gettin' away might do me good . . . for now.''

‘‘Well, if ya have to go, fine and dandy.'' She made her way down off the hay and joined him by the ladder. ‘‘I need to ask you something first, though.'' Quickly she told him about Louisa's hope to visit. ‘‘What should I tell Daed?''

‘‘Do like I'm gonna do. Tell him right out.''

‘‘But I'm a girl.''

He pulled the straw out of his mouth. ‘‘That's where you're ferhoodled, all mixed up, if ya think you can't speak your mind. Like Mamm does. I daresay he might just listen if you don't hem and haw . . . the way you do sometimes.''

She thought on that.

But before she could say more, Yonie spoke again. ‘‘Daed likes folk to get to the point and be done with it. So if you're gonna ask him anything, do it with confidence—I know you've got it in ya.''

She realized if Yonie was going hunting, then Louisa could have his bedroom upstairs for a week or so maybe.

‘‘You go 'n' bring in the herd. I'll find Daed,'' she said, practicing speaking up to a man this minute, bossing her brother but good.

‘‘Thataway.'' Yonie shooed her out of the barn, chuckling.

She ran hard as she could out to meet her father, who was walking her way, wearing the caked-on dirt from the field on his work boots and the bottom of his pant legs, looking like he could use a good hot meal and a warm bath. But the big galvanized tub wouldn't be brought indoors till Saturday night, like always.

Glad that Luke and Omar were nowhere near, she blurted her request when she reached him. ‘‘I'm hopin' you won't mind if my pen pal comes to stay with us for a while.''

‘‘What's that you say?''

‘‘You know . . . my English friend, Louisa? She needs to soak up some of the peace here, I'm thinkin'.''

‘‘Why's a fancy girl want to come to Lancaster County? Is she lookin' to be Plain?'' Daed's face grew more serious, and he reached up to tug on his long beard.

‘‘Well, she's never written that.''
Of course not. Louisa would
never give up her art,
she thought suddenly.

His eyes were softer now. ‘‘Does she need a place to stay? Is that what you mean?''

‘‘She just wants to visit.''

‘‘And what do her parents say?''

‘‘I don't know.''

Daed frowned suddenly. ‘‘Have ya given any thought to where she'd bed down? We've got a houseful of boys . . .'cept for you and Mamm.'' He paused, then he continued. ‘‘And what would she do durin' Preaching service? And there are plenty of weddings comin' up, too.''

She couldn't mention Yonie's plans to be gone till he shared that with Daed himself. As for her father's other concerns, she honestly couldn't say. ‘‘I'm not sure 'bout church and the weddings.'' But just then she realized her chance, a way to make some sense of this. ‘‘Maybe she'd want to go along to church and the weddings and whatnot all. Might be interesting for her, don't you think?''

‘‘A fancy girl would find a three-hour meeting, perched on a wooden bench, quite trying, Annie. Not interesting. And she won't understand much of what's goin' on.'' His eyes were serious. ‘‘You're not thinking sensibly, I can see that. And I best be warnin' ya, too . . . there'd be no shirking your chores with Mamm nor your work over at Cousin Julia's, you know.''

She sighed, still hoping he might surprise her and say that Louisa could come.

He continued. ‘‘Honestly, I don't know how I feel about it, especially with my daughter still so apathetic toward the church. This girl might lead you astray, Annie.''

‘‘But I've been writin' to her all these years,'' she said without thinking. Then she bit her lip. ‘‘I'm sorry, Daed. I didn't mean to be rude.''

‘‘I'll be thinkin' on it.'' He looked away. ‘‘Don't ask me again. . . .''

She wanted to groan, but she squelched it. Besides, he had a point. She was at high risk for the world, the flesh, and the devil. If the people knew the truth, they'd think she was a hardened sinner already.

She shrugged off the annoying thought. It was much more pleasant to hope that she and her family might impart the peace Louisa was desperate for instead of dwelling on her own transgressions.

Chapter 9

J
esse watched his daughter hurry through the half-plowed field, making a beeline toward the barn.
She won't leave a single stone unturned,
he assumed.

He had not shown an iota of interest in Annie's pen pal through the years, and he didn't feel he'd been kept in the dark by either Annie or her mother. Still it was hard not to wonder about the young woman's motives. Was Louisa simply curious, as were the gawking tourists?

Thirsty now, he began to make his way across the furrowed soil, turning his thoughts to Caleb Esh's comments about Annie and Rudy. He hadn't been able to dismiss them, even though the grapevine was entirely unreliable. Yet knowing Rudy as he did, it was perplexing why a staunch young man had not been able to persuade Annie to marry. It didn't add up.
Something's peculiar with that. . . .

Then it dawned on him—Annie was surely stronger-willed than her former beau, and maybe more so than a good number of the young men in the church district. He found this realization not only startling but secretly a bit satisfying. Annie knew her mind, that was clear. Having seen the earnestness in her eyes regarding her English friend's visit, for instance, Jesse thought he might at least run it by the other preacher, Moses Hochstetler, Zeke's elderly uncle. Then, if need be, he'd work his way up to the bishop.

We'll just see what's what
.

All-in from the day, he made his way through the barnyard toward the road. When he came near to the back door, he caught a whiff of what smelled like beef stew and hurried inside to investigate.