4
We sat in the emergency department waiting room with Rory until Tony, who had been out in the hall making phone calls, told Gordon to take me home. “I’ll give you a call in the morning,” he said, “and let you know how Chrissie is.”
I stood. “What about Rory?” He couldn’t spend the night at the hospital.
“His grandmother is on her way.” Tony reached down and patted the boy’s shoulder as he spoke. “She’ll take him home for the night.”
I had a million questions but didn’t want to ask them in front of Rory.
“Thank you, both of you,” Tony said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”
Gordon shook the man’s hand. “Call me if you need to. I can come back in, no problem.”
Tony nodded and then embraced Gordon. They slapped each other on the back and then let go. Then Tony shook my hand, and Gordon and I both told Rory good-bye. I knelt down beside him. “Remember the last song we sang tonight? The one about how the Lord holds us close, always?”
He nodded.
“God, who created the entire universe, is here with you tonight. He loves you, and He loves your mom.”
“And the baby?”
“Jah,” I said. “He loves all of you.”
Rory nodded, and I patted his shoulder and then stood. Gordon and I slipped out of the waiting room and then on down the hall, through the doors of the warm hospital and into the freezing night.
We didn’t speak until we were in the parking garage and inside Gordon’s car, but then I couldn’t help but ask, “If Rory’s grandmother is coming to get him, why aren’t he and Chrissie living with her?”
Gordon started the engine and then turned his head toward me. “It’s hard to understand, but often these situations are more complicated than they seem.”
I was dumbfounded. I didn’t know anyone who would leave their daughter and grandchild on the streets. “What did Chrissie do?” I asked. “To deserve that? Drugs? Something worse?”
“Marie . . .” Gordon’s voice trailed off.
“What?”
He sighed. “I don’t speculate about the clients. About what they did or do or don’t do. About why they’re living on the street. There are rules they have to follow to spend the night in the shelter, but their lifestyles are between them and—”
“But she has a child! A sweet, innocent little boy. Why would she do that? Why would she put him at risk? And now another baby too?”
Gordon shook his head. “There could be all sorts of reasons.” He backed out of the parking space. “I just want to get you home. Your mother is probably frantic.”
It was ten o’clock. She wouldn’t be panicking if I were out with Elijah.
I tried to keep my teeth from chattering, but the interior of Gordon’s car was freezing.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really need to get this heater fixed, or more likely get a new car.”
As we drove along, I remembered my earlier longing to sing with him on the way home and talk about music. All of that was gone. Partly from exhaustion. But I sensed my questioning about Chrissie and her situation added to it. Gordon was always so kind and caring, but now I wondered what he really thought of me.
The truth was, I’d enjoyed the singing tonight. Enjoyed was actually an understatement. I’d experienced a bit of heaven, but that didn’t mean I was cut out for volunteering at a homeless shelter. Jah, a homeless shelter. Honestly, I couldn’t even comprehend Gordon’s explanation to call the clients unhoused instead of homeless. Obviously, he and I were from two very different worlds and mindsets. Perhaps I lacked compassion, but I couldn’t imagine returning to volunteer again. Not that I’d actually volunteered. I’d simply sang—something that came quite naturally to me.
“How is Leisel doing?” Gordon asked as we left the city. I wasn’t sure if he really cared or if he was just making conversation. “Will she be able to come home soon?”
“Hopefully,” I said. “But I know that between nursing school and work, she’s really busy.”
“Have I told you my sister is in college?”
“No.” I leaned back in my seat. I didn’t think Gordon had told me anything about a sister or anyone else in his family, for that matter. Jessica said once that his father had left the family when Gordon was young and then had died a few years later, but that was all I knew.
“She—April—is at the university in Philly. She’s a junior.”
“Oh. Is she a year younger than you?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t realize Conservative Mennonites could go to college.”
“Most don’t,” he said. “But my mom is a teacher, and my dad was too, and she really wanted us to get an education.”
“But you haven’t? Not beyond high school, right?”
“That’s right,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study. Plus, this way I can help April get through school.” Even in the darkness I could tell he was blushing. He probably thought he sounded prideful to reveal he was helping her, but I didn’t think so. I thought it was a sweet brotherly gesture.
He added, “She’s studying political science.”
“Wow,” I said.
We rode in silence for a while. I thought about Gordon’s mother working as a teacher and wanting him to get an education. I wondered if she was disappointed that he worked as a farmhand. “So why did you get a job on our land?”
“My grandfather was a farmer. I have fond memories of visiting them in Ohio—that’s where both of my parents grew up. I wanted to see how I liked it.”
“And?” I asked.
He shrugged and smiled. “I really enjoy it. . . .”
“But not enough to do it the rest of your life?”
“Something like that,” he said. “Which is actually a blessing, right? It’s not like I’d ever be able to afford a farm.”
He was right about that.
“What happened to your grandfather’s farm?”
“He sold it a few years ago. Some of the money went toward helping my father.”
“What happened?” I asked, my voice low.
“He was mentally ill. It turned out he had bipolar disorder, but it wasn’t diagnosed for a quite a while. He ended up on the streets in Cincinnati until my mom and his parents found him. He was okay if he’d take his meds, but he wouldn’t for long. He ended up being hit by a truck when he tried to run across a busy highway.”
“Oh,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” he answered. “I was pretty angry with him when I was younger. Once I understood mental illness better, I became more empathetic. He’s the one who taught me how to play the guitar. After he left, I stopped playing. But I started again in high school, which helped me heal from losing him. Honestly, volunteering at the homeless shelter helps too.”
We both had lost our fathers, but under very different circumstances. I was more impressed than ever at Gordon’s steadiness, at his faithfulness. He’d suffered but turned his grief into helping others.
After a few minutes of silence, he said, “I know I’m not supposed to compliment you or anything, but I could hear you singing tonight. I suspected you were a soprano—and I was right. But I didn’t expect your voice to be as beautiful as it is.”
My face grew warm, even in the freezing cold. Because I didn’t know how to respond, I didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“It’s all right.” I paused for half a second and then asked, “Is your mother okay with you playing the guitar and all of that?”
He nodded. “She’s a music teacher at the Mennonite school I attended. Choir. Piano lessons. Plus, she leads a handbell choir at our church.”
Surprised, I asked, “What’s that?”
I nodded.
“Just what it sounds like, but each bell is tuned to a different note. They’re played by a group of people.”
“I see,” I said even though I didn’t, at least not entirely. I faced the passenger window and concentrated on the snowy landscape, thinking about Gordon’s mother. She was a single mother and earned money to raise her children by teaching music. Gordon’s family was Plain, but very different from mine, even more than I’d realized.
But then I thought of when Dat played his harmonica. Arden would go home after the milking was done, and Jessica, Leisel, and I would stay out in the barn with Dat. Maybe for fifteen minutes or so, he would play and I would sing. And then he would let me play it sometimes. Jessica and Leisel would try to, but they couldn’t get it to work the way I could.
When Gordon turned onto Oak Road, he said, “Thank you so much for coming.” A minute later, he parked in his usual spot, turned off his car, and then opened his door. Before I could manage to find the handle, he ran around and opened my door for me.
I climbed out. “You don’t need to walk me to the door.”
“No, I do,” he insisted. “I need to explain what happened to your mother.”
Gordon and I walked side by side up to the front door, and then I led the way inside.
Mamm’s voice greeted me before Gordon even shut the door. “Marie, is that you?”
“Jah, Mamm,” I answered.
“I’m sorry,” Gordon said as we stepped into the living room. “There was an emergency at the shelter. . . .”
Mamm was perched on the edge of her rocking chair. On the couch, in the dim light, I could see Elijah with his hands on his knees. He stood, and Gordon quickly stepped toward him, shaking his hand.
“What are you doing here?” I stuttered at Elijah.
“Keeping your Mamm company.” He nodded toward the woodstove. “And tending the fire.”
“I didn’t see your buggy.”
“I put my horse in the barn. The buggy’s out back.”
“Oh,” I said.
“What in the world kept you so long?” Mamm asked.
Gordon quickly explained about Chrissie having a seizure and being transported by ambulance to the hospital. “We followed in my car, with her little boy.”
Mamm’s voice was sympathetic. “What an ordeal.”
Gordon nodded. “The director of the shelter drove his car to the hospital too. We left the boy with him.”
I added that his grandmother was on her way to pick him up.
Gordon added, “Hopefully I’ll hear in the morning how Chrissie and her baby are doing.”
Mamm’s hand went to her throat. “Baby? You didn’t say anything about a baby.”
“She’s pregnant,” Gordon explained. “Close to nine months, I think.”
“Oh dear,” Mamm said. “Why was she volunteering at the shelter?”
“She wasn’t,” I said. “She’s homeless—I mean unhoused.”
“What?” Mamm pivoted toward me. “Why would she be, when she has a mother?”
I shrugged, not saying I’d had the exact same question.
Mamm’s voice wavered as she spoke. “I can’t imagine all of the bad choices, all the consequences that lead to that sort of thing. Thank goodness the boy is with his grandmother now.”
Gordon looked as if he wanted to say more on the topic, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “I’m sorry I got Marie home so late.” He turned to Elijah. “And my apologies to you as well.”
Elijah shrugged.
“See you tomorrow.” Gordon glanced at me and then at Mamm as he headed to the front door.
I called out, “Gut’n Owed” after him and Mamm did too, although in a quieter voice.
“Goodness,” she said as the front door closed. “I shouldn’t have let you go with him.”
I took off my cape. “It wasn’t that bad.” Although I hadn’t known what to do when Chrissie had the seizure, I was glad I’d been there for Rory.
And the music, the songs, had awakened something I hadn’t felt in years.
Mamm stood. “I’ll go on to bed and leave you two alone.” She turned toward me. “I don’t want to get in a long discussion tonight, but in the morning I need to speak with you.”
“All right.” My face grew warm again, wondering if there was something I’d done besides staying out later than she expected. I always did my best to honor her, to obey her. That had been my bigget desire since I was a girl.
As she started up the stairs, I sat down in her rocking chair.
“Wait a minute,” Elijah teased. “I braved a freezing night like this to come visit you, and you’re going to sit all the way over there?” He patted the couch beside him. “Come on over here.”
I gave him a sassy smile.
“I don’t bite,” he said. “And I promise not to try to kiss you or anything like that.”
“All right,” I said, although I honestly wouldn’t have minded if he tried to kiss me. Having him stop by was reviving my hopes. I stepped over to the couch and sat beside him.
“You’re going to love your Mamm’s idea.” He put his arm around me. “You can’t believe how hard it is for me not to tell you.”
“You know?”
He nodded.
“Come on,” I begged. “Give me a hint.”
“It involves your Aenti Suz.”
I leaned away from him and peered into his eyes. I couldn’t think of anything Mamm would plan for me that would involve Aenti Suz, except maybe a quilting bee.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. “You’re going to be as thrilled as I am. I promise.”
Elijah stayed until midnight, mostly teasing me. When he finally got ready to go, he said he was leaving for Florida the next day.
I groaned. “So soon?”
“Jah,” he said. “But don’t worry about it, really.” His eyes danced.
He’d promised he wouldn’t kiss me, but he did give me a sweet peck on the cheek. I walked him to the back door and then watched from the enclosed porch as he made his way to the barn to harness his horse.
So much for courting Elijah Jacobs while he was home. We’d have to pick back up when he returned to Lancaster for good.
The next morning, I stumbled down the stairs, bleary-eyed, to make breakfast for Mamm and Aenti Suz. I was surprised to find my mother sitting at the table with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. The fire was already stoked, and she appeared to be in a good mood. Perhaps she wasn’t mad at me after all.
I stopped at the woodstove, attempting to warm up.
“Did you have a good time with Elijah last night?” Mamm asked.
“Jah.” I rubbed my hands together. “But he’s leaving today for Florida. I hoped he’d be here a few more days at least.” I turned toward Mamm. “He said you have a surprise for me?” I didn’t remember ever receiving an unexpected gift from Mamm. Even my birthday and Christmas presents were never unexpected—they were always something I needed. A new coat. A pair of boots. A hope chest.
Mamm had a sly expression on her face.
“You really do have a surprise for me?”
“I’m going to tell you at breakfast. When Suz is here.”
“Well then.” I stepped away from the stove. “I’d better get started.”
I cooked scrambled eggs and sausage, and then toasted the bread I’d made the day before. I buttered it on top of the island in the middle of the kitchen, and then spread the apricot jam I’d made last summer on each piece. I didn’t sing, of course, nor even hum. There were times that even my humming got on Mamm’s nerves.
Just as I finished, Aenti Suz came through the back door with a platter of sticky buns. Together we carried the food to the table and then we all settled in our chairs. Mamm led us in a silent prayer and then we began to eat. Neither my mother nor my aunt said anything. I hoped I didn’t appear as excited as I felt. The truth was, with Leisel living in Pittsburgh, Jessica married, and Elijah pretty much a no-show, my life had been pretty boring. I welcomed a surprise.
Aenti Suz asked me about the evening before, and I told her about what happened at the shelter.
“I’m so glad you were there to help,” she said.
I nodded. “And then when I came home Elijah was here.”
“Oh really?” Aenti Suz raised her eyebrows.
“Jah. He’s going back to Florida today, but he said Mamm had a surprise for me, and you’re involved.”
Aenti Suz leaned forward. “Bethel. Does Elijah work and live where I think he does?”
Mamm nodded.
“Jah. Pinecraft,” I said. “Or right next to it anyway.”
Aenti Suz ignored me and addressed Mamm. “Don’t you think that would have been good information to pass on to me?”
Mamm kept her eyes on her plate as she said, “I thought you knew. Don’t you remember that Bishop Jacobs said he thought it was a perfect idea?”
I tried to keep my voice calm. “What are you talking about? What does Bishop Jacobs have to do with this?”
My aunt leaned back against her chair, sighed, and then said, “It seems I should have known. Or at least guessed.” She turned her head toward me but spoke to Mamm, saying, “You should tell her.”
Mamm raised her head, made eye contact with me, and then paused for a moment before saying, “I’m sending you to Florida for four weeks with Suz.”
I dropped my fork on the table and then it bounced to the floor.
As I scrambled to pick it up, Mamm said, “We already have a cottage. Your Dat rented it before he got sick, hoping I’d go with him. You’ll leave the day after the Epiphany.”
“Why don’t you go with Aenti Suz?” I sputtered.
Mamm’s face fell. “You don’t want to?”
“No, I didn’t say that. But why me? You should go.”
Mamm wrinkled her nose. “You know I don’t like to travel. I’d told your Dat, but he hoped I’d go anyway. But since he’s passed, I want this for you.”
Did she feel sorry for me? Because I’d never had any adventures in my life? But the truth was, I was more like her. Not one to travel.
I wasn’t going to turn it down though. Not when Elijah would be in Florida—not when he was obviously excited to have me visit. And not when Bishop Jacobs had given his blessing.
“Denki, Mamm,” I said. “It’s a wonderful surprise.”
She beamed. “You’re welcome.”
I turned to Aenti Suz. “Have you been to Florida before?”
“Years ago,” she answered. “You’ll need to take your flip-flops. And only a sweater, although we’ll need our warm coats and boots on the bus. Your lightest dresses . . .”
The back door opened as she spoke. Arden stepped into the kitchen, followed by Gordon.
“Join us,” Aenti Suz said. “We have plenty of food.”
Arden shook his head. “I’m going on home to give the kids a ride to school.” Unlike the Englisch schools, our scholars didn’t take off the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day. “I was just showing Gordon in.” He grinned. “I’ll meet you in the barn when I get back.”
Gordon nodded and then said, with his hat in his hand, that he’d heard from Tony. He turned to Aenti Suz. “He’s the director of the shelter.”
“I see,” she said. “Marie told me what happened last night.”
“Oh good.” Gordon looked at me. “Chrissie had a seizure due to high blood pressure. It turned out she had a condition called eclampsia. They ended up doing a C-section and delivered a baby girl. Five pounds four ounces. Eighteen inches long. Tony said both mother and daughter are doing well.”
“Wonderful!” Aenti Suz clapped her hands together.
“What good news,” I said to Gordon. “Denki for letting me know.”
He nodded and then turned to leave.
“Have a sticky bun first,” Aenti Suz said.
“I need to get back to work.”
Aenti Suz cleared her throat. “Marie, get Gordon a cup of coffee and a plate. Gordon, sit.”
We both obeyed.
“Now,” Aenti Suz said. “Bethel and I just surprised Marie with a trip to Pinecraft. She and I are leaving in a week. I know you’re going to be down there soon. Tell us when. And where.”
My face grew warm as I placed the coffee and plate in front of Gordon. Here I’d thought Mamm and Bishop Jacobs were scheming to allow me to spend more time with Elijah. But now I couldn’t help but wonder what Aenti Suz was up to—and why it would involve Gordon Martin.
The day after New Year’s, Aenti Suz hired a driver to take us into Lancaster to do some shopping. Sunscreen and lotion were on the top of our list. Or her list, anyway. I couldn’t see myself spending a lot of time on the beach. On our way home, she asked the driver to swing by Silas and Jessica’s place. The Stoltz farm was off Highway 30 on Garden Lane.
“I think it would be nice to say hello.” Aenti Suz smiled at me as she spoke. We’d seen Jessica and Silas at Christmas, but I agreed it would be nice to see their home.
John and Mildred Stoltz had built a Dawdi Haus on their property and moved into it right before Jessica and Silas’s wedding. Jessica begged them to stay in their farmhouse, but Mildred had stage-four breast cancer, and she and John felt the Dawdi Haus would be easier for them to manage. That gave Jessica and Silas the big farmhouse to live in and furnish. Thanks to the collection of stuff Dat and Mamm had accumulated—and what had been passed down through two centuries in our house—they had what they needed, and we still had a collection of leftovers out in a storage room in the barn.
When the driver pulled up by the house, Jessica stepped out onto the back porch. I was surprised she wasn’t out working on the farm with Silas. She wore an apron and a heavy sweater. She waved, obviously happy to see us.
“We won’t be longer than fifteen minutes,” Aenti Suz said to our driver.
“Take your time,” the man said. “I’ll keep the heater going and take a little nap.”
Aenti Suz chuckled. “All right, make it a half hour then.”
“Come on in,” Jessica called out.
We hurried up the back steps. An icy wind blew again and the sky threatened a new snowstorm.
Jessica’s kitchen was fairly warm. She had two peach cobblers sitting on the counter, and I guessed one was for John and Mildred. The kitchen was dated—old cupboards, counters, and linoleum—but everything was clean and freshly painted.
She pointed to the table in the corner. “Do you have time to sit down and have some coffee?”
“Just that much time,” Aenti Suz said. “We just wanted to pop in and say hello.”
We chatted while Jessica started the coffee. I stepped toward the table and put my purse on it, noticing an envelope with Leisel’s name on the return address. I felt a twinge of jealousy and felt one of my judgmental looks, one that my sisters sometimes pointed out, creep across my face. I hadn’t received a letter from Leisel. Then again, I hadn’t written to her either.
I couldn’t deny that Jessica and Leisel were closer than I was with either one of them. At one time Jessica and I had been best friends, or at least she thought we were, but I’d actually been jealous of her for years. She was strong and coordinated and preferred being outside farming with Dat. They’d developed a close relationship while I stayed inside, working with Mamm. Early on, I picked up that Mamm didn’t approve of Jessica’s helping with the farm and, I’m embarrassed to admit, I capitalized on that—criticizing Jessica to Mamm and doing my best to stay on Mamm’s good side.
As Jessica glanced at me, I tried to put the letter from Leisel out of my mind. I was an adult now, and I needed to avoid any sort of jealousy, along with everything else that might entangle me.
The back door swung open and Silas entered with a load of wood in his arms. He greeted us, deposited the wood in the box by the stove, and then brushed his hands together.
“How about a cup of coffee?” Jessica asked. “And a piece of cobbler? Aenti Suz and Marie have a driver waiting, so we need to be quick.”
Silas agreed. He followed Jessica to the counter as Aenti Suz poured the coffee. He bent toward Jessica and whispered something. Perhaps I imagined it, but by reading his lips it seemed he said, “Are you feeling better?”
Jessica smiled up at him and simply nodded.
The expressions on their faces forced me to look away. It was as if I’d seen something I shouldn’t. Concern on his. Some sort of hope on hers, mixed with the hint of something more. But above all, their faces expressed their love. The commitment between two people who were, besides husband and wife, best friends. I couldn’t imagine what it was like. Not at all. I’d never experienced anything close to it. But hopefully it was something that would soon grow between Elijah and me. Anticipation swelled inside of me.
As we all settled at the table with our coffee and cobbler, Jessica shared that Leisel had written and said she was sorry not to make it home for Christmas. I smiled sweetly, hiding my hurt.
Then Jessica said, “Oh! Mamm told me about you going to Florida. I’m so happy for you!” There wasn’t even a hint of jealousy in her words. “She also reminded me that Elijah Jacobs lives down there.” Jessica lifted her eyebrows as she smiled.
“Jah,” Aenti Suz said before I could answer. “He does live down there.” She took a sip of coffee. “And Gordon is going to be down there on a mission trip during our second week there.”
“Goodness.” Jessica wrapped her hands around her mug, her eyes sparkling. “Sounds like it’s going to be a great time.”
I simply nodded, not wanting to encourage her to tease me. She and Silas had started courting before they’d even turned sixteen, although covertly. Then, after she left, she dated an Englischer in Harrisburg. I was the one who’d never courted at all.
I concentrated on eating the peach cobbler, which was delicious, while Aenti Suz asked about Mildred Stoltz. It seemed the two had known each other years ago. Our aunt asked Jessica to tell both John and Mildred hello.
Jessica was so happy we stopped by, but she understood we couldn’t stay long. Anyway, she’d see us on the Epiphany, just four days away. In no time, we were telling them good-bye and then we were on our way home, looking forward to seeing Jessica and Silas soon.
But, as it turned out, they didn’t come over for the Epiphany, or Old Christmas as we often called it. Gordon knocked on the back door as Aenti Suz and I cleaned up after breakfast, saying that Silas had left a message. Jessica wasn’t feeling well.
Aenti Suz thanked Gordon and then invited him in for a cup of coffee. He hesitated, but then, probably remembering how insistent she was the last time, accepted her offer.
As the three of us sat at the table, Aenti Suz asked what his plans were for the day.
“I’m going back to the shelter,” he said. “Tony is shorthanded, and I’m going to help prepare supper.”
“Good for you,” Aenti Suz said. “But won’t your mother miss you?”
He smiled. “She’s going with me. So is my sister—she doesn’t return to school until day after tomorrow.”
“How lovely,” Mamm said.
The Mennonites, or at least the Martin family, definitely did things differently than we did.
He turned to me then and said he hoped we’d have a good trip. Then he added, “I mentioned before that I’ll be down in Florida in two weeks.”
I nodded. Jah, he had. So had Aenti Suz.
“There’s a group of unhoused youth that travels from this area to Florida each winter. We’ll be reaching out to some of them, in hopes that we’ll be able to reconnect with them in the spring and summer when they come back here.”
“Fascinating,” Aenti Suz said.
“Of course, we’ll be helping others in the shelter too, regardless of where they spend their springs and summers.”
I couldn’t imagine such a life, and I wondered if providing services actually changed things for any of the youth in the long run. “I can’t help but think of Chrissie and Rory,” I said. “If they didn’t have the shelter to help them, do you think they’d stay with her mother? Where they belong?”
Gordon gave me a patient smile. “You’re not alone in thinking that way. And for some of our clients, the best place for them would be with their parents. But not for all of them. For some, home is an abusive place. Or there are drugs in the house. Others don’t have parents who can help them.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Some of their parents are deceased. Others are incarcerated or ill or too impoverished.”
“Oh.” My father was dead, but I had my mother. If my mother died, I’d have Arden and my sisters, not to mention Aenti Suz. And Amos, who I knew would help me, even at a distance. “And they don’t have other family who can help?”
“Some of them do, but not all,” Gordon explained. “The goal is to get them reunited with their families, if it’s a healthy situation.”
“Are there some who simply prefer to be on the streets?” I asked.
He nodded. “A few, but most would like to be with family or have a home of their own. Everyone should have shelter and food.”
I wrinkled my nose, figuring I wasn’t cut out for that sort of work. I loved the music the evening I was at the shelter with Gordon, but I didn’t see that I had much to contribute as far as helping Englischers with their problems.
“Anyway, it would be great to see you when we’re down there,” he said. “If that would be possible.”
Before I could answer, Aenti Suz said, “That’s a wonderful idea. We’d love to find out more about the work you’re doing there.” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “Here’s the phone number where you can reach us.”
I shook my head at her, but neither noticed. It was obvious she’d written the number down ahead of time, hoping for a chance to give it to him.
Aenti Suz clearly thought the world of Gordon. Then again, she was my father’s sister. He’d been a lot like Gordon, always eager to help others. I admired that in my father, although his service to others often took him away from Mamm and us girls.
Gordon finished his coffee and then said he’d be on his way. “I won’t be back to help with the milking this afternoon,” he said. “Arden said he and the boys would do it.” He turned toward me. “Have a great trip, and hopefully I’ll see you soon.”
I smiled. “That would be nice.” But I wasn’t sure that I meant it. I had no desire to see his volunteer work in Florida. I’d seen enough in Lancaster. And besides, I hoped to spend as much time as I could with Elijah.
Mamm and I had a quiet day with just Aenti Suz because Arden and Vi and their children went to her parents’ farm for the day. It was actually too quiet, and for the first time I wondered how Mamm would do with me gone.
When I asked her, she answered, “I’ll be fine. I have a lot of quilting to do, Jessica promised she’d come over to check on me, and Vi invited me over to their house for suppers.” She seemed sincere. Our family had changed so much in the last year, but Mamm seemed to be accepting it.
Of course I’d packed for our trip the day before, throwing in some kitchen towels to embroider and add to my hope chest, but Aenti Suz wasn’t ready at all. When Mamm went upstairs to take a nap, Aenti Suz invited me over for a cup of tea in her Dawdi Haus and to keep her company while she packed. With nothing better to do, I accepted her invitation.
She had a big suitcase open on her small table, and stacks of clothes and books were piled on the dining room chairs. I sat down on her small but very comfortable sofa.
As she brewed the tea, she said how pleased she was that Mamm wanted me to accompany her to Florida.
Honestly, I was surprised too. Mamm didn’t like any of us going far from home. I guessed it was her desire for me to marry Elijah that won her over, but I said, “Maybe she’s getting over her fears.”
Aenti Suz held a summer dress in her hand. “When your mother was young she wasn’t fearful, but that changed when your sister Rebecca died. I think she was so afraid of losing you three girls, of Jessica and then you and Leisel, that she became rigid. She was so determined to follow all of the rules, as if that would protect all of you, that she found herself confessing to the bishop for the littlest thing, including if she feared she’d gossiped about someone or even had a bad thought. She hated that your father lived with such freedom in his friendships, travels, and thoughts. She was sure God would punish him—and her—by taking another child.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s awful.” I did remember, as Mamm and I cleaned and cooked together over the years, her fretting over all sorts of things. That was probably where I got my propensity to measure dress hems and hat brims.
“Forgive me.” Aenti Suz put her dress in the suitcase. “I’ve probably said too much.” She sighed and then asked me more about the night I helped Gordon at the shelter.
I told her it had opened my eyes to the situations of others, and although I appreciated Gordon’s desire to serve, it was obvious I didn’t share his gifting.
“Well,” Aenti Suz said, “Gifting helps, but service can be learned.” She turned toward me as she poured the tea. “Could I tell you a story? About one of your great-great-great-aunts?”
“Sure,” I said. Anything would be better than being lectured about my lack of desire to serve.
“Her name was Annie Bachmann,” Aenti Suz said. “And she lived here, on this farm, in your house, with her sister, Sophia, her brother Josiah, and their parents. This was just over one hundred fifty years ago, during the Civil War.”