Dinah spent the rest of the afternoon raking hay. Jeremiah and Anna Mae had been right—it was a lot of work. Amos continued to mow the hay while she was still getting the hang of how to make a loose roll that also stuck together. She was getting tired. She was also thinking about Amos. She’d been surprised by what he’d said, and she was more surprised that she admitted her own feelings. But then again, why wouldn’t she like Amos? He was so easy to like.
What she didn’t understand was why he liked her.
She finished one more roll of hay as the sun started to set. They had put in more than a full day. Her back hurt. Her whole body was damp with perspiration. Her arms ached from the repetitive motion of moving the hay rake. When she was done, she leaned on the rake. She should probably help Aenti Judith with supper since they were eating late tonight, but right now all she wanted to do was rest for a minute.
“You’re tired, Dinah Keim. You need to geh inside.”
“I can wait for you.”
He took the hay rake from her. “I’ll be finished in a little while.”
She didn’t argue and went back to the house. When she went inside, Aenti Judith was making supper. David wasn’t in the kitchen and Dinah was relieved. She was too tired to face him right now.
“Dinah,” her aunt said, “geh upstairs and take a shower.”
“I-I c-can h-help w-with s-supper.” Her stutter always worsened when she was tired.
“It’s almost done. Geh on,” she said, ushering Dinah out of the kitchen. “A shower will help those sore muscles.”
Her aunt was right. Dinah took a long, hot shower—probably longer than she should have. But the water had felt so good. She was still tired, but she wasn’t as sore. She dressed quickly, combed and pinned up her damp hair, and put on a light yellow kerchief before going downstairs for supper.
Amos and David weren’t in the kitchen, and Dinah saw that they had eaten already. “I took too long,” she lamented.
“Nee worries. You’ve had a busy couple of days. We all have. I saved a plate for you.” Her aunt gestured to a foil-covered plate on the table among the other dishes.
When Dinah sat down to eat, she noticed her aunt didn’t get up to clear the table. She looked tired, and Dinah could see the toll David’s injury had taken on her. “I’ll clean up after I’m finished,” Dinah said.
“Nonsense. I just need a few minutes of rest. You’re our guest and you’ve been working harder than me.”
Dinah knew she hadn’t, but she didn’t argue. She was hungry and she dug into the food, not caring that it was slightly cold.
“You’re different.”
Looking up from her plate, Dinah met her aunt’s eyes. “What?”
“You have been since you arrived. First you stitch up David’s leg like you’ve been doing it all yer life, and then you stand up to him.” Aenti Judith smiled. “I like the new sense of confidence.”
Dinah brushed a few crumbs off the table. “I’m not sure where it’s c-coming f-from.”
“That’s because you don’t give yerself enough credit.”
It was just like her aunt to be so supportive, but Dinah couldn’t take the compliment seriously. “I’m sorry if I-I was rude to D-David.”
“I know. And believe it or not, he understands. David’s not usually like this. He’s worried about the crops. He and Amos have always worked the harvest together.” Judith glanced at the top of the table. “He has trouble seeing Amos as an adult.”
Dinah took a bite of the cooked, buttered cabbage, silently agreeing.
“Once David’s leg heals up enough for him to work, he won’t be so crabby. He doesn’t like to sit still. He’s always worked hard, and he’s always had a heavy burden on his shoulders.”
“Amos isn’t a burden.”
Aenti Judith shook her head. “Nee, not Amos. Although at times they have a complicated relationship.” She sighed. “I need you to know that David is a gut mann. He loves his sons very much. He sometimes has a strange way of showing it.”
Dinah nodded. Who was she to judge David Mullet? Perhaps that was her aunt’s point.
“I’m glad you and Amos are getting along,” Aenti Judith said. Then she grew serious. “It’s gut for him to have a friend.”
Friends. Somehow her relationship with Amos was becoming more complex than friendship.
“How is yer mamm?”
“She’s f-fine.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to respond to mei invitation so soon.” After a pause she added, “That was yer mamm’s decision, ya?”
“Ya. She said I needed to g-get out m-more. I w-wish she understood that I l-like being a-alone.”
“Do you? Or is it just easier?”
Dinah put down her fork. “Both.”
“There’s nix wrong with spending time alone. But you need to be with people too.” She squeezed Dinah’s hand. “People who enjoy yer company. Like me. And like Amos.” She let go of Dinah’s hand. “As soon as David’s back to full strength I’ll start harvesting the garden.”
“I c-can h-help you with the c-canning.”
“I’d like that. It will be nice to have another woman in the kitchen. Plus you and yer mamm always make the best tomato sauce. Will you share yer recipe with me?”
“Of course.” She’d be making tomato sauce after all.
“We have church this Sunday. I’d like to introduce you to our friends. But only if you feel comfortable.”
“I’d like to meet th-them,” she said, meaning it.
“I better check on David.” Aenti Judith got up. “I’ll be back to do the kitchen.”
“Nee, I’ll get it. I’ve got a second wind.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Geh be with David.”
Her aunt gave Dinah a grateful look. “And you get plenty of sleep.”
Dinah finished her meal, then cleaned up the kitchen. She was wiping off the table when Amos walked in. “Where’s Judith?” he asked. “She always cleans the kitchen.”
“She’s t-tired.” Dinah took the damp dishcloth to the sink and shook out the crumbs.
“I’m tired too.” But he didn’t tell her good night or leave the kitchen.
She hung up the cloth to dry, then turned to him. She wanted to ask him where he’d been for the last few hours, but she wouldn’t pry. “I should g-geh upstairs. I h-had some reading I planned to do t-tonight.”
“Oh.” His tone was wistful.
“Is everything all r-right?” she asked. “Do you need s-something, Amos?”
He met her eyes. “Do you like reading?”
“Ya. I like it very much.”
He paused, but continued to hold her gaze. “I wish I could read.”
Dinah was stunned. “You don’t know how to read?”
He shook his head. “I can read a little. But not much.”
“What if I taught you to read?”
“You can’t. Mei teacher couldn’t and she was a gut teacher. Jeremiah tried and he couldn’t do it. Anna Mae tried too.”
“But I haven’t. I love to read, Amos. Especially poetry. Have you ever read poems?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then we can start with those.” She was warming up to the idea. How wonderful it would be to share something she loved with him. “We can have lessons after s-supper each night.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Ya. We can s-start tomorrow night.”
Amos grinned. “Danki, Dinah Keim.” Then he left.
Dinah smiled as she turned off the battery-powered lamp in the kitchen, then went upstairs. She closed the bedroom door and eagerly opened her book of poems. Which one should she use to teach Amos? The poems were her personal collection and she had read them over and over until she had them memorized. She’d started copying poems when she was fifteen, and now had over three notebooks full. But this volume held her favorites. She flipped through the pages. “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe? No. Not only was it a love poem, but it was also sad. The last thing she wanted was for Amos to equate reading with sadness.
The middle of her notebook contained several of Shakespeare’s sonnets. She glanced at “Sonnet LIV”.
O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem.
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
That wouldn’t work either. Too complicated, and she didn’t want him to get frustrated.
Then she found the perfect one. “The Autumn” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning:
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them—
The summer flowers depart—
Sit still—as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.
He might not understand the meaning of the poem, but the words weren’t too challenging or too easy. Afterward she could tell him what the poem meant. They would work on one stanza each night, she decided. Smiling, she closed her notebook, eager for tomorrow night to arrive.