CHAPTER
five

Do the Kauffmans typically sell their produce to—what is it you call us?” Adeline asked once they were on their way again.

Earnest smiled to himself. “Englischers.”

Sylvia spoke up from behind him. “They get plenty of tourists, just like the rest of us. ’Specially this time of year.”

Adeline was quiet for a bit, then asked, “Will it be a problem for you? Them knowing I’m your daughter, that is.”

Earnest drew a sigh. “A few months ago, it would have been, but hopefully not now.” He wasn’t ready to tell her about the six-week Bann the People had put him under for keeping his first marriage secret, but he wanted to offer some sort of explanation. “Suffice it to say, no one knew I had been married before I came here. Not even Rhoda.” He shook his head, disliking the thought of dragging Adeline through all of this.

Adeline leaned forward in the back seat. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Not a soul knew anything about my former life.”

“Why not, though?” She sounded baffled. “Would telling have been such a big deal?”

“Definitely. The Amish don’t believe in divorce,” Earnest said, wondering how Sylvia was taking this conversation, quiet as she was.

“But some marriages do fail,” Adeline observed.

“Not here, they don’t. Not typically.” Earnest sighed. “They take marriage vows seriously here, as the Good Book instructs.” Just like I always believed. Now he’d opened up a Pandora’s box—precisely what he had wanted to avoid. But keeping secrets had not served him well.

“Are you saying the Amish think they’re perfect?” Her tone indicated she was upset.

Earnest shook his head. “To the contrary,” he said. “They’re people just like you and me.”

“They?”

He felt foolish. “We,” he restated.

Then Adeline asked, “Tell me again why you came here. I mean, what was going through your mind to make you want to live this radically different way?”

Earnest again mentioned that, had it not been for his experiences with his Mennonite grandparents, he might not have been drawn to the Plain life when searching for a fresh start. “I longed for a sense of community . . . a connection with a group of people who seemed reliable and stable. Considering all that I was struggling with, centuries-old Amish traditions were just what I needed.” He paused suddenly, realizing that he didn’t want to make her feel bad about what had happened between her mother and him. “And then after I’d joined church, and later, fallen in love with Rhoda, I couldn’t think of living without her,” Earnest said. “Once we started dating, I knew I would never be leaving Hickory Hollow.”

“I can’t imagine marrying for any reason but love,” Adeline said.

Sylvia coughed a little, and Earnest wished the subject were not so sensitive. He still found it difficult to talk about this time in his life . . . the decisions he had made.

All the same, he had to ask, “Adeline, are you wondering if I loved your mother?” He hadn’t planned to say it quite that way, but the words were out now.

Adeline sighed and leaned back in her seat. “You and Mom were young.”

He nodded. “Too young, it turned out.”

“Then maybe your relationship wasn’t so much about devotion and true love as something else?”

Perceptive, Earnest thought, remembering how quickly he and Rosalind had married after dating for only a few months. But he wanted both of his daughters to know that he had been committed to that marriage for a lifetime. “Not to speak ill of your mother, but I couldn’t believe it when she wanted a divorce.”

“I presume you fought for the marriage,” Adeline said.

This was a comment he hadn’t expected. “At the time, I did everything I could think of: I called her repeatedly and sent her flowers. I did my best to reunite with her. Rosalind knew I loved her.” Earnest stopped talking, determined not to say anything negative.

“I’m sorry,” Adeline said, her voice sounding smaller just then. “I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

There were plenty of things wrong with the marriage. Earnest recalled Rosalind’s materialistic side and their pinched finances, and how her parents had unhelpfully made it clear they were willing to provide her with everything that Earnest could not. Even so, he had said quite enough.

“I didn’t come here to dredge up the past,” Adeline said at last. “You’re my natural father. And I came a long way to meet you. . . .”

He nodded, hoping she wasn’t hurt by his lack of a response just now and wondering how Sylvia was holding up. Despite her continued silence, he was keenly aware of her presence.

“I don’t mean to be pushy.” Adeline’s voice was soft and kind. “But if it’s all right, I would like to get to know you.” She paused, then again mentioned Rhoda’s gracious offer to help her learn quilting.

“To be frank, I thought our way of living . . . well, I thought it might be difficult for you to accept.”

“It is a little hard to get used to. But I can handle it for a visit. I guess I need to know if you want me to stay, Earnest.”

He had never encountered such an inquisitive person. Except maybe Mahlon, gone to glory. But it had been different with his closest friend, who’d always asked practical questions, not pointed ones like Adeline seemed to thrive on. “It’s all right, sure,” Earnest said. “Besides, I’d like to get acquainted with you, too.”

“Wonderful!”

Will she like what she discovers here, though? Earnest wondered as he directed Lily to trot toward home.

“I’m all thumbs with this thimble,” Adeline remarked to Rhoda later that morning while trying to make beginner stitches on a piece of leftover fabric.

“You’ll get used to it . . . and thank me later,” Rhoda said as they sat together at the kitchen table. “I remember the first time my Mamm showed me how to sew. Soon as she left the room, I took the thimble off. Well, come a half hour or so later, I had pokes and bruises on the pad of my third finger and realized it would prob’ly be bleeding, next thing.”

Adeline smiled at how willingly Rhoda told on her younger self.

Rhoda leaned forward and observed the angle of Adeline’s needle. She showed her how to adjust it to more of a horizontal slant. “Now you’ve got it.”

Adeline laughed. “I might not be cut out for this.”

“Practice, practice, remember?” And here Rhoda clucked like a hen.

“I’m thinking it’s also patience, patience.” Adeline glanced at her. “Am I right?”

Rhoda nodded and smiled, her cheeks growing rosier as the heat of the day pervaded the kitchen. “I say it’s patience, determination, and practice.”

Adeline could relate to that. “And passion, too?”

“Jah, for sure.” Rhoda made several stitches on her scrap of fabric and showed them to Adeline.

“They’re so small and straight.”

“You’ll make stitches like that, too, someday,” Rhoda said. “But it’s more important to make your running stitches straight than small.” She made a few more example stitches. “Of course with quilting, it’s also about community. Working with others, no one person trying to stand out or compete with another, just everyone doing their best to complete a project for someone to enjoy.” She went on to also describe tatting doilies, crocheting baby booties, and knitting hats and sweaters. “Not all of these tasks are necessarily done in a group, mind you, but the finished product is almost always enjoyed by someone other than its creator.”

Adeline wondered at that moment what her mother would have thought of Earnest’s Amish wife. Would she have been impressed by Rhoda’s seemingly unpretentious ways, her gentleness?

“It’s more important to learn steadily than quickly,” Rhoda added, getting up to go over to the counter and returning with a plate of the honey oatmeal bread she’d baked while Adeline had been out for the drive. “Work goes hand in hand with play at quilting bees and other work frolics. And we always set time aside for food and fellowship.”

Adeline liked the sound of that.

“Jah, we womenfolk have ourselves plenty-a fun at our work frolics.” Rhoda offered the plate of bread to Adeline, then took a piece herself.

Womenfolk, thought Adeline, drawn to Rhoda’s homey choice of words. She found it more endearing than she would have thought possible twenty-four hours earlier.

Eyeing the plate of bread, Adeline’s first inclination was to politely refuse, not so big on high-carb snacks. But, seeing the expectancy on Rhoda’s face, Adeline reached for the smallest piece. “Thank you,” she said, meaning it.

“And thank you once again for the goodies ya brought back,” Rhoda said.

“I wanted to help in some way.” Adeline savored the treat; the honey oatmeal bread nearly melted in her mouth. “What’s in this?”

“Oh, it’s a recipe Eva Kauffman gave me years ago—one passed down from her own Mammi.” Rhoda rose to get some milk to go with their snack. “I understand ya met Eva and her preacher husband, Amos, today.”

“Ah . . . yes, I did,” Adeline said, wanting to decline the fresh, rich cow’s milk but figuring she was already in this deep, so what could a glass of milk hurt?

“Did you enjoy goin’ to the Kauffmans’ stand?”

“I certainly did.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve been to farmers markets before.”

Adeline nodded. “But since I’m busy with my studies, it’s mostly takeout for me these days. That and frozen meals.”

Rhoda was nearly giggling as she sipped the milk and took a second slice of the delicious bread. “So comin’ to Hickory Hollow’s been quite a change of pace, I daresay.”

Adeline agreed. “But I hope our stopping by your preacher’s roadside stand didn’t cause trouble for Earnest,” she said quietly, glancing toward the hallway leading to the utility room and the back door.

Rhoda paused. “About bein’ Earnest’s daughter, you mean?”

Nodding, Adeline said, “They seemed pretty bowled over, yes—they kept giving me strange looks. Earnest didn’t tell you?”

“He mentioned it, jah.” Rhoda nodded, then said, “But he’s not worried ’bout it and wouldn’t want you to be, either.”

Adeline didn’t need to understand what was behind the Kauffmans’ response to her. Of course they would be shocked, just as Earnest and Rhoda had been. So she dropped it.

Rhoda spoke up cheerfully, “I do know that Earnest is really lookin’ forward to learning more about ya.”

Adeline smiled, pleased to hear it. He was being the consummate host, showing her around the local farmland and making sure she felt welcome until she returned home. Mutually beneficial, she thought, feeling better about staying on longer.