Chapter Eight

Elli and Abram Schwartz’s large two-story home sat on the top of the longest hill Grace had ever ridden up. Looming gray clouds gathering under a dull morning sky didn’t subdue the mood inside the massive house filled with chattering women. The white walls carried the echoes of laughter down long hallways, just the same as her family’s cellar had carried her voice as she told her sister Hope her most precious secret.

Those words had traveled, too, all the way to the kitchen where her family had gathered for breakfast. That day had been equally ominous; it was the beginning of everything that had forced Daed’s hand in sending her here. Grace pushed the horrid memory out of her mind before it could ruin the current one in the making.

Canning bees with all the right people had a way of lifting spirits. Aside from baking for large gatherings, it was a favorite of Grace’s. She’d experienced so few canning frolics, as mutter preferred to avoid nonessential gatherings. So Elli inviting her today was a rare and delightful treat. Sweet smells of sugar and berries flooded the rooms, bringing to mind similar days with her family. Only back home, jelly making took place in season, before the berries spoiled. All canning was done when the bounty was freshly picked, but Grace was learning once again, Elli tended to do many things differently. Like having Englisch relatives with electric freezers, allowing one to save a season for a day when her full-time creamery needed less from her.

“Does the bishop not mind that you use electric freezers?” Grace asked timidly, knowing full well such a thing in Havenlee would draw a visit from the local ministers. Taking the damp rag and wiping the warm jars of jelly and jam clean, Grace eyed the full table of various bold colors and textures before screwing on a freshly heated set of caps and rings. Though their house in Havenlee was large enough to handle a room full of women, it was her mother’s anxiousness that had prevented such activities as much as daed’s rule that each had their own place. Mercy was like her mutter in that way. Maybe that was why her youngest sister preferred the outdoors. Giving her a chance to breathe more freely and not let close quarters suffocate her youthfulness.

Goodness, she missed her sisters terribly.

“The bishop likes my elderberry jelly far too much to make a fuss over such a thing, and anyway, it is not my freezer.” Elli hiked a grin, the sharp blue of her eyes dancing like a cat with a mouthful of bird. The kitchen buzzed with activity. Each woman scurried about, preparing the blackberries and elderberries for jams and jelly.

“Much of this will be sold in the creamery or Sadie’s store, but we also hold back a fair part to fill baskets for Christmas,” Betty added from behind her.

“Some in Walnut Ridge have so little, and it is expected that we to share what Gott has blessed us with,” Tessie said. Grace suspected she herself might be one of the receivers of such gift giving, and her aenti was letting her know it.

“Tess here makes little hats for the hospital, for the babies,” Elli said. Grace didn’t know that. “She crochets mittens and hats for our baskets this time of year.”

“You crochet?” Grace said with a hitch of surprise. Tess nodded, but her lips were tighter than a sealed jelly jar.

“Mammi knew how, but her fingers were too tired for teaching my sisters and me. I have always wanted to learn.” Grace lowered her head again when Tessie said nothing to this.

The women thawed and drained and cooked the berries down, adding the measured amount of sugar, pectin, and lemon juice, all while carrying full conversations. Certainly nothing like the quiet kitchen Grace was accustomed to. And no one person was steady to one duty, either. They all seemingly knew the process by heart and stepped in where it was required.

Maybe that was why so many things had failed in her father’s haus. If one slipped, or simply was not present, the whole process of the day was spoiled. Such days could spur daed’s temper. It would take a bit of getting used to, but Grace longed for the closeness of community, inclusion that the room around her was offering.

“We are glad you came today. More hands, more hearts,” Betty said with a bubbly smile. “How is your arm?” Betty pinned her with a motherly look.

“Gut. Martha says it will barely scar. She says the boppli is gut, too.”

Mentioning the baby was probably not acceptable, but the words had slipped out before she considered them. Grace simply yearned to tell someone, and calling home would not be permitted. Grace used the tongs to lift another three caps and rings from the steaming water on the stove as Elli poured another three jars with deep purple liquid beside her. A hiss sounded as water dripped on the stove.

“That is wunderbarr. It will be a blessing to have a wee one at Christmas. They are calling for a cold front this week and much rain. Have you gotten all you need to stay warm? Is your pantry full enough to keep you both fed?” Betty’s concern wore in her eyes. There was no hiding it. To her right, Elli assured Rachel that adding more lemon juice to the jelly mixture would take that frown off her face and set the jelly firmer. Grace suppressed a grin when she noted multiple splatters on Rachel’s apron front. Rachel didn’t have to be perfect, and Grace wished she wouldn’t try at it so hard.

“Oh, don’t fuss over her. Grace is not the first woman to ever be with child,” Tessie barked, pouring another clear freezer bag of limp blackberries into a colander sitting in the sink. Freezing might have its perks, but fresh were better in Grace’s way of thinking. And what did her Aenti Tess know about such things? She was a spinster, unwed, having no kinner of her own.

Peering across the table as she finished sealing the jars, Grace studied her aenti. Her small frame bent slightly, salt and pepper hair pulled tightly under a perfectly starched kapp and with shoes Grace thought too big for her feet, giving her a few extra inches in height. Her always-present frown never offered a welcoming. Like a bitter tea crying to be sweetened, but Grace wasn’t sugaring her just for a spoonful of kindness. How did a person stay so hard, all the time? Even in her current situation, Grace could find little pockets in her day that made her smile or feel some sense of joy.

Grabbing a pen, she began filling out the labels Elli had given her and wrote the appropriate flavor on each jar.

“We can fuss if we wish. It’s not every day that a maedel takes on a pack of stray hunds and wins,” Elli shot back, and Betty agreed.

“Well, I can’t imagine living all alone in the woods like that. Why would anyone want to live in such conditions?” Rachel lifted her chin as if wading through high waters.

“I didn’t choose to,” Grace muttered between clenched teeth, tired of letting words just fly past her as if they didn’t hurt.

“Did you not? Our choices lead us to our destinations, do they not?” Rachel rolled her eyes again. It seemed her most favorable gesture. Grace reached for another jar before sliding back into the chair Elli had given her. Aenti Tess and Rachel were right, she grasped. If Grace hadn’t fallen for Jared, for his charms, she wouldn’t be here. She put herself here, and here she was. Making a choice between what she knew to be wrong and what was right in the sight of God.

“Ladies, I think it is time to schedule the cookie exchange. Thanksgiving is next week, so after that, of course. And we need to plan the next quilting bee. We must finish both quilts before the auction first of the year,” Betty chimed in, shifting all the talk from Grace to something else.

While the women scheduled days and which house would be host for a quilting bee, Grace added the labeled jars of jelly into boxes and began stacking them in the corner by the screen door.

“Let me help you,” Elli said, coming to her side. Smiling at Elli’s need to always make her feel included, Grace warmed to her. Elli was a friend, and that was something she could use now.

“You are being too kind to me. Aenti Tess might not like you doing so.” Grace whispered softly toward Elli’s holey ear.

“I have taken a hit or two from Tessie Miller myself. Don’t you worry, dear. God tends to all his children, despite her opinion.” Grace hoped Elli was right. No amount of praying for forgiveness had eased her hope for His mercy for her mistake, but she at least didn’t feel so alone now.

“Have you still got plenty of flour, eggs, milk? You know I have more than enough,” Elli was too kind. “I have plenty of apples, too, from Troyer’s orchard.” Grace was about to open her mouth, to say just how wonderful a fresh apple pie or apple spiced cake sounded, when Betty interrupted.

“She has eggs aplenty, that’s for sure and certain,” Betty jested under a throaty breath. Did she know about her egg benefactor? Grace’s face grew hot.

“Well, then I will send you home with milk and flour. He is such a good fellow,” Elli winked, and quickly stood.

“We shall have the cookie exchange a week after Thanksgiving,” Elli announced to the room then turned to Grace again. “I expect you to come. To Thanksgiving here and the cookie exchange.”

Grace wiped her hands on a nearby cloth, and carefully considered her answer.

“I would like that, but only if you tell me what to bring for the Thanksgiving meal. At home I made all the desserts and rolls. I make a cranberry dessert, too.” Grace didn’t dare mention her well-known custard. Too many eggs in that recipe and she didn’t need another remark about her neighbor, nor to give anyone the wrong idea.

“That sounds delicious. Whatever you want to bring, I’m sure it will be eaten up,” Elli said.

…

Aenti Tess’s buggy came to a stop in front of the shack. For the life of her, Grace would never get used to riding up that steep, treacherous hillside. Surely that was the cause for her terrible backache. “Danke Aenti for allowing me to kumm today. I hope to get to join in more such days.”

“Not sure how many such days you will be permitted,” Tessie was quick to reply.

“But Bishop Mast has not said anything against it.” Grace defended. The women didn’t mind her presence and Daed was a whole state away. Grace bit the inside of her lip.

When Cullen and Elli had brought her back from receiving stitches at Martha’s, Bishop Mast was waiting outside the shack for her. He seemed more concerned about her well-being than her reason for being discarded in his community. He was firm but empathetic. Why was her aenti being so unreasonable? Grace tossed her an angry frown.

“That is not a gut look on you.” Tessie glared. “You should not be riding in a buggy for much longer. It is not gut for the boppli.” She almost sounded sincere.

Taken aback, Grace climbed down from the buggy, careful not to disturb the fresh wrapping on her arm Betty had insisted on. Speechless over her aenti’s sudden concern, Grace said nothing to the remark as she lifted a small bag of food staples from the buggy floor. Tessie reached over, gripped Grace’s free hand, and slipped a thin envelope into it.

“What is this?” Grace asked, perplexed.

“A gift. It is not much. I have so little to share”—Grace knew that to be true—“but it will get you a few staples to eat and such.” Tessie eyed her intently. “If I know my bruder you have little saved to support yourself for the days ahead.” The kindness was so unlike her aenti that Grace froze, unable to respond to the generosity. “There is a loose board just under the pump sink. Use a can to secure it and hide your important things there. And close your mouth. You look foolish.”

With that last firm order, her stiffly posed aenti clicked her tongue, leaving Grace standing with the small envelope clenched in her hand and a lot of questions dancing in her head.

It took Grace a few seconds to come to her senses with her aenti’s change of heart and her surprising wit. Who would have imagined Tessie Miller had a sense of humor? After a day of only backhanded compliments, the compassion was unexpected. She pondered whether she should have even accepted the envelope. Tessie, too, was alone. Was it selfish to take from someone who had little as well?

The changing weather was less miserable today. Grace felt a surge of energy that she hadn’t expected after a full morning at Elli’s. It would be a good time to get a few things tended to around the cabin. Stepping onto the lopsided porch, she felt her eyes go straight to the place where her laundry had hung just this morning. It was nothing but two leaning posts and air. Her laundry, including the line itself, had vanished.

“Who would steal laundry?” she queried. Pondering the thief, she slipped the envelope into her dress pocket and maneuvered around the small cabin in search of her clothing. The day quickly turned woeful with a thick overcast of threatening weather. Not even a bird took to the skies. A few stray darkened clouds, the same color as Hope’s darker blue eyes, moved in, hanging low along the hilltop, while the rest moved as if running for their life. Nature was a fickle creature, always arguing with itself.

Her eyes widened as Grace came to a stop when she found where her clothes had gone. Each dress, her undergarments, and the few kitchen linens were now hanging from new posts with new string, and facing southwest to get the full effects of the day’s gathering winds. Her face flushed knowing someone had handled her unmentionables. “Who?” She could only hope it wasn’t her local egg supplier.

The sound of banging metal echoing along the valley made her wince.