Most people would consider laughter wafting from the open windows of their home a pleasant sound. In Esther Marie’s case it could only mean one thing. A setup. Esther Marie slowed her brisk pace along the sidewalk and up the steps. Her mother’s determined chortles sent dread spiraling through her. Laughter usually was a sign her mother or her father or both had invited someone to supper. A man-someone. They meant well.
The result for her generally ranged from severe indigestion to a pounding headache. The desire to please the two sweet people who gave life to her vied with the certain knowledge that she would never find a husband who wanted to permanently yoke himself to a woman who needed five minutes to finish a sentence.
Maybe if she were more pleasing to the eye. Plain men didn’t attach as much importance to looks, but they would be lying if they didn’t admit that looks played a part in that mysterious attraction called love. She had never experienced it, yet she knew exactly how it would feel. Warm, sweet, all-encompassing, a falling into a place where time had no meaning and the lines between two people blurred until they became one.
The desire of her heart was to encounter that place, but cold, hard reality muttered in her ear daily: God’s will might be for her to be alone.
Why? Wasn’t it enough that she was scrawny and pock-faced and she mangled two languages? She’d prayed and prayed for her stuttering to be cured. And yet, it persisted. God ignored her prayers for healing.
Why?
Her mother said God’s plan was still unfolding. In His time, not hers.
But the facts spoke for themselves.
Most of the men her age in this district were already married. Three older widowers had already been duly invited to the Shrock house and gone on their way, never to return for supper. They knew what Isaiah and Martha Shrock were trying to do and, for the most part, seemed willing to spend an evening trying to make conversation with Esther Marie over Nadine’s barbecued ribs, spicy barbecued beans, coleslaw, dill potato salad, and scrumptious lemon bars.
It never went anywhere. The store remained her domain. The one thing she was good at. And now Jasper had taken over that domain. No one expected life to be fair, but sometimes, it rubbed her nose in its determination to be unfair.
Maybe that’s why her parents didn’t give up. They knew how much she wanted what every Amish woman wanted—a husband and children. They turned a blind eye to the sad fact that this dream had passed their daughter by. They couldn’t fix it for her, no matter how hard they tried.
Maybe she still had time to turn around and sprint the other direction. She could go to The Malt Shop and eat a banana split instead. The library on the high school campus had closed for the day. Maybe she could simply walk along the road, enjoying the gorgeous Mission Mountains until the sun went down and darkness hid her face as she slunk into her bedroom.
“Esther Marie, there you are.” Father’s jovial voice boomed as he pushed open the screen door. “Get in here and say hello to Nicholas Kauffman.”
The name didn’t ring a bell. Nicholas didn’t live in their district, so he probably didn’t know about her stutter. “Daed . . .”
“I know, Dochder.” He winked and let the door close behind her. “We bought a saddle from him last year, remember? He lives out by Lewistown, but he’s thinking about moving this direction so he can work for the Millers at their leather shop. He handcrafts saddles.”
Montanans held this skill in high esteem. Ranchers were willing to pay exorbitant amounts for saddles that stood up against the wear and tear of a working cowboy and his horse. “I’m s-s-s-sorry I’m l-l-l-late.” The word didn’t want to come out, which underscored what she meant to say. She was too tired to pause, breathe, and imagine the words. “It was a l-l-l-l-ong d-d-d-day.”
The look on Nicholas’s face said it all. He grabbed his glass of iced tea and slurped down half of it. His expression evolved from a genuine smile coupled with curiosity to barely masked pity. “Don’t apologize for working hard. It’s a virtue.” He had a gruff voice that reminded her of her grandfather.
Nicholas looked to be in his early forties. Silver strands streaked his temples. The glint in his blue eyes hinted at a sense of humor, but the lines around his mouth and eyes suggested hard times weathered. His chin was smooth shaven. He had never married. “I have had days like that.”
Did those hard days have something to do with why he remained a bachelor at this stage of his life? It was rare in her community. Men and women were expected to marry, but sometimes circumstances didn’t allow for it. Caring for sickly parents. Caring for brothers and sisters after the death of a parent. Or maybe love simply passed him by when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t have an impediment like she did. Not one that showed, anyway.
“Did something happen?” Mother stood at the door to the living room. Always more attuned to her children’s moods, she never missed a sign of trouble. “Is everyone all right at the store?”
“F-F-F-ergie had a heart at-t-t-t-tack.” Esther Marie squeezed past Father so she could edge toward the kitchen. “He’s in the h-h-h-hospital.”
“Ach. The poor man. He’s so young.” Mother’s gaze flew to Father. Fergie and he were the same age. While Fergie’s shape resembled a large hard-boiled egg, Father’s frame tended toward flat as a screen door. Where Fergie tended toward baldness that would one day make him look like that same egg, Father’s iron-gray hair ran wild. His locks stood up and waved at each other. “I’ll make a breakfast casserole and run it over to their house. She’ll need help with the laundry and cleaning while he’s laid up.”
“Their dochders will fill in.” Father never ceased to be the eternal optimist. “I reckon Jasper has the store under control.”
Of course. Esther Marie bowed her head and nodded. “H-H-He’s in ch-ch-charge.” Never mind the scene with Mrs. Kowalski. Never mind the angst over a phone call to an electrician. Never mind Jasper’s sad eyes. Never mind her four years of experience learning every facet of the grocery store business. She could reel off the price of every bulk item. She knew how much inventory they had for all the sewing goods. She could recite every flavor of ice cream served in the deli.
And customers liked her.
Pride went before a fall.
“The lasagna is ready.” Mother called over her shoulder as she bustled away. “Lulu set the table. Help us serve. Nicholas must be starving.”
Ignoring the urge to flee, Esther Marie did as Mother asked. Supper was a lively affair with the boys arguing over who caught the biggest fish at the pond earlier in the day and her younger sister giving a detailed account of the birth of a foal at her friend Jennie’s house. Nicholas ate heartily but said little, despite Father’s attempts to draw him out. Esther Marie pushed food around on her plate and calculated how much turkey, chicken, beef, pastrami, and ham she needed to order the next day. To that she added a running total of the ice cream lost in the broken refrigerator case. More needed to be ordered as well.
Finally Mother scooted back her chair and stood. “It’s so warm in here. Why don’t you and Nicholas go out and sit on the porch, Isaiah. With any luck there will be a breeze. Esther Marie can bring you a piece of her apple pie and some more iced tea. She picked the apples herself from the trees in the backyard.”
Mother made it sound as if this was a wonderous feat.
“I’m full to my eyeballs.” Nicholas laughed and tossed his napkin on the table. “But I reckon I can find room for a small piece of pie.”
In the kitchen Mother slid generous slices of pie onto two plates and handed them to Esther Marie along with forks. “Go.”
“Mudder.”
“I know you love me and your daed, but I don’t think you want to live with us when we’re old and cranky. Better to have your own cranky mann than to take care of my grumpy mann.”
True, but it had to be the right man for the job, and Nicholas was not that man. Esther Marie trudged out to the porch. Nicholas had chosen a rocking chair instead of the swing. Father was nowhere in sight.
“Isaiah said he forgot to do something in the barn. He’ll be right back.” Nicholas took the pie with a quick “thank you” and laid the accompanying napkin on his lap. “He also said to tell you he’s too full for pie, so you could eat his piece if you want.”
Ha. Could Father be more obvious? Esther Marie attempted to hide her consternation. Nicholas’s half smile said he knew exactly how she felt. Esther Marie summoned a smile. A person never had an excuse for being rude. “I hop-p-pe you like the p-p-pie. The apples are from t-t-t-trees in our b-b-b-backyard.”
Mother had already said that. Embarrassment added to the heat.
He took a quick bite and moaned. “Very gut. It reminds me of my mudder’s. She was a gut cook.”
“She p-p-p-passed?”
“A few years ago.” He settled back into his chair and proceeded to demolish the pie. “Aren’t you going to eat yours?”
She eased onto the top porch step and turned so she could lean against the railing. Once settled, she made sure her long skirt touched her dirty white sneakers on all sides. “I’m n-n-n-not hungry.”
He cocked his head. His lips crinkled into a smile.
She held out her plate and he took it. For a man who claimed to be full, he’d found plenty of room for dessert.
“I don’t get as much home cooking as I’d like.” He scraped the plate and shoved the last bit of flaky crust into his mouth. “One of the many downsides of being a bachelor.”
“No f-f-family?”
“Back in Kentucky.”
He did have a touch of soft drawl in his voice. “M-M-Miss it?”
“Pardon me for sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but have you always stuttered?”
“Jah.”
“It must be frustrating.”
“Jah. I p-p-p-pray for Gott to heal me, b-b-b-b-ut He d-d-d-oesn’t.”
“Like Paul and the thorn in his side.”
She hadn’t thought about it that way. The apostle Paul planted churches all over the world. He was brave and went to jail for his faith. She was just a girl who stuttered and worked in a grocery store. “His thorn hurt-t-t-t. Mine d-d-d-doesn’t.”
“Not physically, but it hurts your heart.” Nicholas stretched out his legs and clasped his hands on his flat stomach. “You know what Paul said?”
“That Gott w-w-w-as made st-st-strong in his w-w-w-weakness.”
“Just something to think about.”
That scripture could apply to her personally, the way it did to Paul, which seemed unfathomable. But there it was. “I w-w-w-ill.”
Nicholas laid the plate aside. “You weren’t happy to see me. Do your parents do this to you often?”
“Jah. Nee. I m-m-m-mean—”
“Don’t worry about it. My friends try to fix me up too. I’m old and set in my ways. I’m happy with my dogs and my cats and the quiet.”
“R-R-R-eally?”
“Really.” He stacked the second plate on top of the first one and wiped his lips with the napkin. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”
Why did he want to take a walk if he wasn’t interested in anything more from her? The idea of making conversation on a walk along the dirt road—and all the way back—was daunting. “It’s hot-t-t-t.”
“There’s a breeze.” He stood and ambled past her down the steps. There, he stretched his long arms over his head as if reaching for the sky. “It will make your parents happy even though we know there’s nothing to it, and it’ll give me someone to talk to besides my dogs and cats.” He cocked his head, his smile playful. “I don’t bite. I promise.”
Esther Marie grabbed the railing and pulled herself up. Gott, would it be wrong for me to smack my mudder and daed upside the head for putting me in this position?
They walked in silence for several minutes. Esther Marie studied the mountains in the distance. Their beautiful presence steadied her. Blue jays jabbered in the red maples along the edge of the road. An inquisitive squirrel stopped his search for seeds under a spruce long enough to watch them pass by. The longer the silence stretched, the more anxiety tightened its grip around Esther Marie’s throat. She halted. “You d-d-d-on’t have t-t-t-to d-d-d-do this-s-s-s.”
“Do what? Take a walk with a nice girl on a warm but pleasant July evening?” Nicholas slowed. “You like Jasper, don’t you?”
Heat more searing than that of a raging bonfire ignited in the center of Esther Marie’s chest. She pressed her sweaty hands together and struggled to think. Men and women didn’t discuss such topics, did they? Nicholas was a virtual stranger.
“Again, I didn’t mean to pry.” A light pink crept across his fair skin. “You must think me forward. I saw your expression when your parents talked about him. I recognize that look. I have four schweschders and four bruders. They’re all married now. It might help to talk about it.”
“T-T-T-To you?”
“I suppose not.” He picked up his pace. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. I thought you might need a neutral third party to talk to. You probably have girlfriends and schweschders for that.”
Only Lulu and she was ten. Her three brothers were no help. All of Esther Marie’s friends were married now and busy raising their children. They sometimes stopped talking when she walked into the room. They had to be discussing their poor friend Esther Marie, destined to be alone. “Why didn’t y-y-y-y-you m-m-m-marry when you w-w-w-ere y-y-y-oung?”
“When I was younger, you mean?” Nicholas’s amused expression said he found her assessment of his age funny. “I missed my chance. The girl I liked married someone else. I never found another girl I liked as much.”
“L-L-L-iked?”
“I guess my lukewarm choice of words says something.” He chuckled. “I liked her. Maybe I moved so slow because I wasn’t sure I loved her. If you love this Jasper, you should find a way to encourage him. Being the man is hard. You’re not sure what the woman is thinking, and it’s nerve-racking to try to figure it out. You don’t want to be rejected, so sometimes you do nothing.”
“Why are y-y-y-you t-t-t-telling me this?”
“Because you seem like you could use a nudge in the right direction.” A slinky gray-and-white cat preened under a cottonwood tree. Nicholas held out his fingers and made kissing noises. The cat stopped licking for a moment, meowed, and went back to her bath. “See, she agrees with me. I can tell you from a man’s perspective, knowing what to say and when to say it is the hardest part. Is Jasper an easygoing man?”
“N-Nee.” She shook her head hard. “N-N-N-ot at all.”
“Ah. He’s naerfich too.” Nicholas made a sudden about-face and headed back toward the house.
“What-t-t-t are you d-d-d-oing?”
“You need to make some more of that apple pie and take it to him.”
“We have it-t-t-t at-t-t-t the store.”
“The gesture is in the making of the pie.”
He tipped his straw hat in her direction. “I should get back. I don’t like to drive my buggy in the dark.”
“S-S-S-orry my parents w-w-w-wasted your t-t-t-time.”
“I ate a delicious meal and took a walk with a nice girl.” Nicholas’s gaze traveled over her shoulder. The creak of buggy wheels and thud of horses’ hooves on the road’s packed dirt made Esther Marie turn.
A familiar roan trotted toward them. As it grew closer the driver came into focus as well. Jasper.
The Cotters lived in the opposite direction from the store. The chances of Jasper coming down dead-end Shadowbox Lane were slim and none. Unless he was coming to the Shrock house. Why would he do that?
The buggy rocked in the rutted road. He drew even with Esther Marie and Nicholas.
And kept on going.
Jasper looked her straight in the eye. She waved. He did not wave back.
“Who was that?” Nicholas smoothed his big hand along his mare’s back. “Someone you know?”
“That was J-J-J-asper.”
“In that case, you may not need the apple pie.” Nicholas climbed into the buggy. “A little jealousy may be the spice you need in your recipe.”
Jealousy? Esther Marie opened her mouth, but Nicholas shook his head and snapped the reins. “I wish you the best, Esther Marie. Tell your parents I said danki for the food. Gut nacht.”
She stood next to the road for a long time, watching him drive away, but Nicholas didn’t occupy Esther Marie’s thoughts. Instead the look on Jasper’s face as he drove past her without stopping played over and over in her head.
She had little skill in reading men’s faces, and she might be mistaken, but he seemed disappointed.
Disappointed at what?