10

Exhausted as she was and despite her concern for Leroy, Maggie welcomed the peace that followed to her room on the main level of the house. The house creaked and cooled off from the day’s heat; the cushion of nighttime was her solace now.

First day of summer, she thought, setting her Bible on the small table near the only chair in the room. She looked at the calendar hanging near the settee against the far wall—a free calendar from Betsy Lapp’s Bakery and Craft Shop up the road. Each page advertised Betsy’s delectable pastries, goodies, and homemade craft items.

The next Singing is July first, she thought, a bit sad at the thought of not going. But there was no backing down. The pitying look of surprise on Timothy Blank’s face still nagged at her. And, as fond as she was of Jimmy Beiler, she wouldn’t let his seeming interest in Cousin Deborah break her heart, either. I’ll keep Miriam company here at home, she decided.

Maggie slipped on her long cotton nightgown and took down her thick bun to brush her hair. She put the clothes she’d worn into the wicker hamper and closed the lid, then moved to sit near the open window, scooting up close, glad for this room, which was certainly cooler than upstairs on such a night. She reached for her Bible.

What was it about the meeting tonight that made her want to read every Scripture verse the evangelist had referenced? And what about Glenn?—so kind and earnest, like a close friend. Maggie wondered all of these things and more as her thoughts raced. I can’t have a crush on an Englischer. . . .

A sudden gust blew in through the window, catching her off guard. All the better, she thought, shaking herself. I must keep my focus on the Lord alone, she thought as she turned the pages to the Gospel of Mark to locate the story Glenn had suggested.

The next morning, Maggie, tired from staying up late, chose to remain at home with Grace while Rachel took Miriam to visit neighbor Ruth Zook, who was still hobbling about on crutches with her sprained ankle. Dat and the boys had gone down the road to help the neighbors chase pigs and load them into the hauling pens to put on a truck for market.

While Maggie missed having their talkative and bubbly younger sister around, she welcomed the opportunity to help Grace bake apple pie for supper that evening. One for Aunt Nellie, too. Sitting at the table to conserve her energy, Maggie found that working alongside Grace reminded her of doing the same with Mamm, and the feeling brought her a sense of peace in the midst of shared grief.

Maggie and Grace each wore one of Mamm’s old work aprons as they made pie dough and smoothed it out with rolling pins. Maggie never had to think about the next step or wonder if Grace would match her own movements—they were partners in the kitchen, to be sure. Mamm taught us well.

“Where’d ya go last evening, or is it too nosy to ask?” Grace asked while she placed the pie dough into the glass baking dish.

“Well, it wasn’t with Jimmy Beiler,” Maggie said, making herself smile. “Is that what you’re hopin’?”

“Another fella, then?” Grace’s eyebrows rose.

“Nee.”

Grace looked at her askance. “None of my business, right?”

Maggie shrugged. “I just went with Lila and Luke to the tent meeting.”

This news appeared to astonish Grace. “You went again?”

“I did.”

Smoothing out the dough, Grace leaned on the rolling pin, her face pinched up. Even so, she didn’t ask another question.

Maggie felt like a fish flapping on dry ground. She disliked being made to feel guilty of wrongdoing, and no one in this house seemed to understand her interest in the meetings. But she couldn’t blame them; unless they experienced the gatherings for themselves, how could they possibly know?

“Well, I hope you’ve changed your mind about goin’ to the next Singing,” Grace said softly. “’Cause otherwise, I’ll really miss ya.”

“I’ll miss bein’ there with you, too,” Maggie said. “It’s really not what I want,” she told her. How could it be? she thought. “If I was normal, like the other girls—like you—I wouldn’t frighten the fellas away.”

“Aw . . . Maggie.” Grace squinted her eyes. “I prob’ly shouldn’t say it, but you’re prettier than any girl round here. That’s the honest truth. And you’re ever so wonderful on the inside, too.”

Maggie dipped her head, embarrassed. After a pause, she said, “You an’ I both know that fellas want able-bodied young women to court and marry. And nothin’ less.” The image of the redheaded fellow backing away from her crossed Maggie’s mind, and she flinched anew.

Grace didn’t refute it. She poured the home-canned apples over the pressed dough in the pie dishes.

She knows it’s true, Maggie thought.

Once the pies were ready to bake, she and Grace would go out to the henhouse to feed and water the chickens in Miriam’s stead, then gather eggs. Anticipating that chore and all the standing it required, Maggie let the story of Jairus’s daughter’s healing, which she’d read last night, play over in her mind.

I’ll read it again later, she thought, hungry for more.

On Sunday afternoon, Maggie went to Leola with her family to visit Dawdi Reuben, who lived next door to Aendi Barbieann and her husband, Onkel Zeke, and their five children still living at home. The trip took about an hour by horse and spring wagon. The People did not ride in automobiles on the Lord’s Day, so the family had gone in the open wagon, since the whole family was along. They looked forward to spending time with Mamm’s widowed father, something they did as often as possible. He cherishes our visits, Maggie thought, recalling how seeing their mother enter the house would always bring a hearty smile to the dear man’s wrinkled face.

While the wagon bumped along, Maggie glanced at Grace sitting next to her on the second seat, staring at the landscape in an apparent daydream. If only I could somehow communicate what I’ve experienced at the revival meetings—the growing closeness I feel toward the Lord. How can I explain?

Their brothers were sitting in the back, talking quietly in Deitsch. Now and then, Stephen would raise his voice a bit, but for the most part, they were behaving themselves, lest Dat ask them to quiet down. She listened for a moment as Andy mentioned the possibility of playing softball real soon. Stephen was quick to agree, and Leroy said they should get some of their boy cousins to join them.

Dat and Rachel were talking softly in the front seat, and Miriam turned to look back at Maggie every few minutes, grinning, her expression filled with mischief. Maggie smiled back at her.

“Do ya wish you were in back with the boys?” Maggie asked her.

Miriam was quick to shake her head. “They’d just pester me.”

“Or maybe the other way around?” Maggie smiled.

To that, Miriam said nothing, but there was that impish twinkle in her eyes again.

“Want a Life Saver?” Maggie asked, opening her pocketbook and taking out a fresh roll with the five classic flavors, her favorite.

“Sure.” Miriam reached back and grabbed the whole thing, giggling as she opened it and offered one each to Dat and Rachel up front.

Goodness, thought Maggie, having to laugh at her sly sister.

When Miriam returned what was left of the prettily wrapped roll, she apologized.

“That’s okay,” Maggie said. I was a playful sort once, too.

Returning the Life Savers to her purse, it crossed Maggie’s mind how lively and happy Cousin Lila had seemed lately—not mischievous like Miriam—each time they were together. Was it because she was so enjoying the tent services, or did she have a beau, just maybe? Pondering the latter, Maggie realized that most every young woman her age, and even some younger, had a steady beau. And it struck her that she would likely be living on her own someday—like Great-aunt Nellie did.

Early that evening, following a light supper of ham and cheese sandwiches and a bowl of fruit cup, Rachel was pleased when Joseph asked her to go for a walk, leaving the girls to redd up the kitchen.

“How long’s it been since we walked, just the two of us?” Joseph asked, reaching for her hand the minute they were far enough away from the house.

“Too long?” she asked, flirting back.

“I agree, and I’ve been lookin’ forward to some time alone with ya, love.”

She nodded happily, still aware of how her heart fluttered when he said sweet things like that. “To be honest, I’m real thankful for Sunday afternoons and evenings.”

“’Tis a slower time, jah.” He paused to kiss her cheek. “Remember how we’d sneak away from Sam Zook’s place to go walkin’? It was worth braving even the chilliest weather.”

She laughed softly, the breeze warm against her face. “You were quite romantic then, Joseph.”

“Then?” Joseph said, his face humorously pained.

She laughed. “You still are.”

Chuckling, he squeezed her hand.

This deserted dirt path, used by the mules to get from field to field during the week, was the very one she and Joseph had strolled along as a new courting couple. While I stayed those two months with Sam and Ruth Zook, she thought, glancing back across the wide meadow toward the couple’s farmhouse.

“I haven’t forgotten the way you looked at me across the table at Sam Zook’s that first night,” she said.

“I’ll never forget, either. You laughed at all my jokes.” He stopped walking and slipped his arms around her. “The surest way to a man’s heart.”

She loved the feel of him next to her and nuzzled in closer, lifting her face to his to initiate another kiss. “I’m so thankful for Sam and Ruth’s invitation.”

“I believe the Good Lord allowed them to bring us together.” He glanced toward heaven as they began to walk again. “I did think you were a bit leery of me,” Joseph surprised her by saying.

“Well, if I was, it only lasted a few moments.” She remembered how Joseph had stuck his hand out to shake hers, his eyes soft and adoring almost immediately.

“I couldn’t blame ya, really, considering you were younger and single . . . without a houseful of children.”

She laughed. “Once you started talkin’ about your happy life with your family, my heart went out to ya, Joseph . . . knowin’ what ya’d lost.” She paused a moment, conscious of his arm brushing against hers as they ambled along. “That’s not to say that I felt sorry for ya.”

“Well, ya must’ve, poor, lonely man that I was.” He reached for her hand again. “But it was far more than that. I think I must’ve fallen in love with ya at Ruth Zook’s kitchen table that very night . . . could hardly take my eyes off ya.” Joseph smiled and glanced at her. “Such a perty girl—I couldn’t believe the Good Lord kept ya just for me. Still can’t when I wake up next to ya, dear.”

Joseph was the man of her every daydream. The kind of man Rachel had always hoped to meet and marry, even as far back as when she was in her teens and attending the weddings of her sisters and cousins.

But she brushed off the lurking memory of those days, not letting herself think about any of that, not on this relaxing evening walk.

Rachel came by her love of the outdoors naturally—from her Mamm, who relished taking long romps through the meadows and up to the woods, too, when Rachel and her sisters were children. She was thrilled to be married to a man who took time to comment about the many flower gardens she was tending. And she smiled, recalling his first question to her, about what flowers she enjoyed growing.

All around her she noticed beauty—the wild flowers, the pebbles along the path, and the birds singing their joyous songs. There were occasional large rocks in the field, and clumps of purple wild thistle, but this stretch of land belonging to Joseph signified honesty and hard work. This patch of God’s green earth represented His promise of blessing.

As she and Joseph picked up their pace at the end of this lovely Lord’s Day, she wondered if they might end up at the big pond where Joseph had taken her several times to ice-skate during their wintry courtship. In fact, one of the times, she’d thought for sure he was going to ask her to marry him. But he’d talked instead about how she’d feel about helping him raise his children. “I have a ready-made family,” he’d said with an apprehensive frown.

Rachel had thought it sweet of him to bring that up, but she hadn’t realized what a task it would be to win Leroy over, especially. She’d known she loved Joseph that day at the frozen pond, but she also knew that if she married him, she’d be marrying into his family, too. “Might it be wise for me to spend some time with them?” she had asked Joseph, starting her journey toward stepmotherhood.

“What are ya thinking ’bout?” Joseph asked now as they rounded the bend, following the path through the underbrush, toward the familiar pond.

She told him.

“Well, it sure seems like Andy and Stephen and Miriam have taken to ya, love,” Joseph replied, leading the way to the water. “And aren’t Maggie and Grace makin’ an effort?”

“The older girls just need a sounding board or an encourager, I think.”

“Jah, ’specially Maggie.”

“I’m tryin’ to be sympathetic toward her,” she told Joseph, knowing she was no match for Sadie Ann’s mother heart. They’re her flesh-and-blood children, Rachel thought wistfully.