Chapter Seven

After Bible reading and evening prayers that night, Leah hobbled up the stairs before anyone could offer to help her. She wanted to be alone— needed a reprieve from the events of the day. The one pleasant thing that still made her heart flutter was Jonas being concerned enough to carry her into the house thataway. She thought again of her face against his shirt, his strong arms holding her safe, his words of comfort and reassurance. Why hadn’t he waited to see if she could walk after she’d stumbled to the ground? Thinking back on the accident, she felt she might’ve been able to limp to the house, given half a chance. But Jonas had been so impulsive, eager to help her himself.

In the stillness of the shared bedroom, she stood on one foot—her good one—and peered into the hand mirror, trying to find the beauty Rebekah had seen in her. But the reflection staring back just now wasn’t near as perty as Sadie’s or even Anna’s face, not the way she thought of a girl being attractive. Maybe it was because her sisters had such light hair; could that be it? But no, she knew within her soul— made no difference that her hair was brown, she just didn’t feel perty. Tomboys weren’t supposed to be attractive. The truth came home to her yet again, pounding its way into her temples, causing pain in her head as well as her wounded ankle.

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Mamma and Aunt Lizzie were mighty kind to her during the next few days, insisting she remain indoors, keep her left foot elevated either while in bed or on the downstairs couch. They brought her breakfast, dinner, and supper on a wooden tray, coaxing her to eat more than she needed, probably, but it was their way of demonstrating their love. Dat was shorthanded outside, what with early potato digging and the second alfalfa cutting coming on real soon. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Smithy Peachey and son Gid came over several times to help out during the week, but other than that, the work fell entirely on Dat’s shoulders.

Aunt Lizzie said she was willing to walk to a nearby doctor, have him come take a look at Leah’s ankle, tell whether or not it was broken. But Mamma didn’t think it was, especially since Leah could move her foot—wiggle her toes, too—without causing her additional pain. So it was mutually decided that the ankle was just sprained. “Which,” Lizzie reminded her, “can be as painful or worse than a break.”

After the first few days Leah yearned for the outdoors, in spite of Hannah and Mary Ruth showing her how to embroider, Mamma giving her pointers on mending clothes by hand, and Sadie and Aunt Lizzie teaching her how to make the tiniest quilting stitches—things she might’ve never learned till now, since she was rather laid up. So, in some ways, her sprained ankle was turning out to be a blessing. Providential, she began to think, and she was more determined than ever to become a real woman. The kind of woman Jonas would be proud to have stand alongside him.

She enjoyed a good many unexpected visitors throughout that week. Two being Fannie and Rebekah Mast, which was awful nice of them to come all this way.

The next day Jonas Mast surprised her by dropping by with two blueberry pies and a burnt sugar cake for the family. While he was delivering the desserts from his mamma, Leah, who was reclining in the front room, happened to see him just where he stood in the kitchen. Of course, Mamma put her foot down about him going any farther than the doorway, only allowing him to call to her—“Hullo, Leah . . . hope your ankle’s healing quickly”—before he was herded out the back way.

Adah Peachey stopped in one afternoon and stayed for two hours, reading the Bible and some of her own writings—she called them “personal essays on life and other things.” Leah found her dear friend’s sharing so interesting, even lovely, and told her so. “Mamma just won’t let me do hardly anything till my ankle’s better,” she explained. “I’m ever so glad you came to visit.”

They were upstairs in Leah’s room, where Adah sat on the chair next to Leah, who was perched on top of the yellow-and-green quilted coverlet. “There’s something else I’d like to read to you before I go,” Adah said, her sea green eyes soft and glistening. She opened an envelope and removed the folded letter. “Well, on second thought, I ’spose you could read it for yourself.”

Leah accepted the letter, and when she spied Gid’s handwriting she knew Adah’s brother, still sweet on her, had sent it.

“Go ahead, open it. My brother has a nice way with words,” Adah encouraged her.

Honestly, she was tempted to push the letter back in the envelope.

“Aw, Leah, for goodness’ sake, read the note.”

Lest she hurt Adah’s feelings, or worse—how would Gid feel if Adah recounted this moment to him later?—Leah opened the letter from the young man her father seemed to admire above all others. She began to read.

My dear friend Leah,

Greetings to you in the name of the Lord Jesus.

I happened to hear that you are under the weather, suffering an injured ankle. My sister Adah promised she’d deliver this letter to you in person, and I hope you will accept this heartfelt gesture as one of great concern and friendship. Please take care to stay off your bad foot and know that our family’s prayers follow you daily.

Very soon, you will be up and around, going to the Sunday night singings—you, Adah, and I will be. Mend your foot quickly.

Da Herr sei mit du—May the Lord be with you.

Most sincerely,
Gideon Peachey

She was touched momentarily by the tender tone of the letter, but she knew she ought not to reveal this to Adah. No, she knew she must be very careful not to lead Adah to think her brother had a courting chance. “Denki,” she said softly. “Tell Gid the letter was right thoughtful of him.”

Adah’s face shone with delight. “Jah, I’ll be sure ’n’ tell him.”

Her heart sank just a bit seeing the look of near glee on Adah’s face. So then, no matter what nice thing she might’ve said about Gid’s note, his sister would have probably misunderstood, so hopeful Adah was. Ach, Leah felt she couldn’t win for losing.

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The afternoon could’ve easily been mistaken for early evening, so gray it was outside, with drenching rain coming down like Noah’s flood. Not even the hearty fork-tailed martins who resided in the four-sided birdhouse next to the barn attempted to take flight this day. They preened their white torso feathers, waiting not so patiently for the sun to shine again.

Leah sat in the front room, her foot still propped up with cold packs, listening to the boisterous music of the rain on the roof. She didn’t mind being alone, sitting there embroidering yellow and lavender pansies on a new pillowcase. Actually, she was beginning to enjoy the domestic “indoor” work of womenfolk and wondered what Dat might think if she joined ranks with Mamma, Sadie, and the twins. She knew she’d miss the infrequent yet meaningful chats with her father, would miss them terribly. Still, she couldn’t help but feel she’d purposely been kept away from her mother and sisters all these years. Besides being the “sturdy girl” of the family, she didn’t know, nor did she care to speculate, on the reasoning behind Dat’s initial plan to keep her busy outdoors . . . except for the farm permit, so she wouldn’t fall prey to higher education, as Sadie had.

Just as soon as her ankle was strong again, she’d be right back outside helping in the chicken house and elsewhere. Meanwhile, she found she rather liked the glide of the needle and thread weaving a path through the fabric. She hoped she might have more opportunities to sew and quilt, though not with a bum foot for company.

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Aunt Lizzie surprised her by coming for another visit the next day. Leah was pleased, hoping for some quiet time with her favorite aunt. With eight years between Lizzie and Mamma, Leah had often marveled that the two seemed closer than Mamma and her other siblings, though some were only a couple of years or so younger or older. Goodness, how the two of them loved to joke and laugh together while out gardening in either Mamma’s or Lizzie’s vegetable patches!

There had also been a few times when Leah, as a young girl, had happened upon them and they’d startled her a bit by ceasing their talk when they saw her—embarrassed her, really—acting as if they were still youngsters themselves . . . secretive little sisters playing house. Made her wonder, though she had no idea, really, just what they were whispering. Probably nothing at all about her. Yet such things had been going on for years, for as long as Leah could remember.

“Didja have a very long rumschpringe?” she asked when Lizzie and she were alone in the front room at last.

“Well, I wouldn’t say long really.” Her aunt offered her a plump strawberry from the bowl she held. “I can tell ya one thing . . . I’m not proud of those years. Not a bit.”

“Oh? Didja tempt the devil?” The words flew out before she thought to stop them. “Like some young people do, I mean.”

Aunt Lizzie sighed loudly and turned her face toward the window. The rain was still coming down hard, hammering against the roof. “I wish I could say I led a godly life during that time. Truth is, I went the way of the world for too long. I should’ve put my trust in the Lord instead of . . .” She stopped then, looking at Leah. “You’re comin’ into that time of your life, too, honey-girl.”

Leah was surprised to hear her aunt use the nickname. How long had it been since Lizzie had called her that? She sighed. “Well, I don’t want to make the mistakes many young folk do,” she told her aunt.

“ ’Tis a gut thing to wholly follow the Lord no matter what age you are. My prayer for you is that one of our own boys will court you when it’s God’s will.”

One of our own . . . The way Lizzie said it had Leah thinking, wondering if Lizzie knew something about Sadie. But no, how could she? As for the Lord God having anything to do with her courting days, well, she wondered if Aunt Lizzie had forgotten about Dat’s plans—that Smithy Gid would be asking for Leah’s hand in marriage sooner or later. How could the Lord God heavenly Father have any say in that?

She felt she had to ask, wanted to know more. “Did you fall in love with a Plain boy back then?”

A faraway look found its way into Lizzie’s big eyes again. “Oh, there were plenty of church boys in my day, jah, there were. One was ’specially fond of me, but he ended up marryin’ someone else when all was said and done. Can’t blame him, really. En schmaerder Buh!—a smart fellow he was.”

“To miss out on marryin’ you, Aunt Lizzie? Why, how on earth could that be? I say he was dumm— stupid—if you ask me.”

“No . . . no, I dawdled, sad to say. Fooled round too long. He had every right not to wait for me.”

Leah wasn’t so curious about the boy as she was annoyed that her aunt thought so little of herself. “I think you’re ever so perty, Auntie,” she said suddenly. “Honest, I do.”

Eyes alight, Lizzie touched her hand. “Keep as sweet as you are now, Leah, will ya?”

She wanted to say right out that she’d never think of hurting Mamma and Dat—nor Aunt Lizzie either—the way Sadie was bound to if she kept on rubbing shoulders with the world. But she said none of what she was thinking, only reached over and covered Aunt Lizzie’s hand with her own, nodding her head, holding back tears that threatened to choke her.

When the day was through, long after Aunt Lizzie had gone back up the hill to her own little house, Leah lay on her bed in the darkness. Positioning her still-painful ankle just so beneath the cotton sheet, she thought of her newfound joy— needlework and mending with her sisters and Mamma. Of course, she didn’t dare tell Dat she thought she might prefer to work inside, where she rightfully belonged. No, she wouldn’t just come right out and say something like that to him. She’d have to bide her time . . . wait for the right moment, then feel her way through, just the way she carefully gathered eggs of a morning, so the fragile shells wouldn’t shatter in her gentle hands.

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Leah sat out in the potting shed, glad the afternoon shower had held off till just a few minutes ago. After returning home from school, Hannah and Mary Ruth had helped her hobble out to help Mamma redd up the place a bit before it rained.

“This place has never been so filthy,” Mamma said, using a dustpan and brush to clean off the counter that lined one complete wall. Several antique birdhouses sat there, waiting for spring. A collection of tools—hand rakes, gardener’s trowels, hoes, and suchlike—and a bag of fertilizer were arranged neatly at the far end, along with the family croquet set and a box of quoits on the highest shelf. And the shared work apron, hanging on a hook.

“I’ll wash the inside of the windows,” she volunteered, happy to be of help. Today had been her first day outdoors in nearly two weeks. She’d gathered eggs in the chicken house and later scattered feed to a crowd of clucking hens and one rooster, who, come to think of it, had treated her like a stranger. She’d never considered her interaction with the chickens before and burst out laughing as she sat washing the dusty streaks off the shed window.

“Well, what’s so funny?” Mamma asked.

Just now, looking at her mother, Leah noticed yet again that gleam of contentment. Mamma was always lovely to look at.

She began telling how the hens especially had behaved oddly, backing away from her as if they didn’t know her.

“Hens are temperamental, that’s all. Don’t make anything of it, dear.”

“It’s funny, ain’t so?”

Mamma seemed to agree, her blue eyes twinkling as she smiled. “They ate the feed, though, didn’t they?”

That brought another round of laughter. “Jah, they did.”

Still smiling, Leah was happy to share the amusement of the moment. Seemed to her that she and Mamma had made some special connection in the last couple of weeks. “Mamma, what would you think if I told Dat I want to sew and cook and clean, like you and Sadie do?” she asked.

An unexpected burst of sunlight streamed in through the newly washed window, merging with the dust Mamma was sweeping up. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking hard ’bout this.”

“I have” was all she said, and she found herself nearly holding her breath, waiting to see what Mamma’s answer might be.

“Jah, I think it’s time you learned the womanly skills. It’s all right with me.”

She felt more than relieved with Mamma’s response. After all, wouldn’t be too many more years and she’d be married, keeping house for her husband, sewing clothes for her children. It was high time she caught up on her hope chest, which was fairly empty at the moment, except for the few quilts and linens Mamma, Aunt Lizzie, and several other relatives had given as gifts over the years.

“Wouldja like me to talk to your father?” asked Mamma.

Leah felt she wanted to do it herself. “Denki . . . but no. Best for me to see how Dat takes to the notion. All right?”

Mamma shrugged her shoulders, going back to her sweeping. Leah felt some of the burden lift. Jah, in a few more days she’d get up the nerve to talk things over with Dat.