AS MARCH FINALLY made its appearance, Tabitha rejoiced in an early morning walk. The snow was melting fast, and it wouldn’t be long before she would see her white, yellow, and purple crocuses springing up from the slushy ground. She clasped her hands together in thankfulness and looked out over the area that was to be her and Aenti Beth’s kitchen garden. Then she looked back to the ground and dug the toe of her sensibly soled shoe into the ground and felt it give. Not enough to plant, but in a couple of weeks she should be able to put the first of the cold-weather crops into the ground.
Making a mental list of her spring chores helped keep her from fretting over not hearing from Rob. I’m really getting to the point of frustration with Rob, even though I am so in love with him. But I simply cannot understand why he hasn’t at least written. She spun round, putting aside her thoughts, and ran into the house, careful to slip her muddy shoes off first.
“Aenti Beth, I’m going to finish planning the kitchen garden today.” Tabitha swooped to press a kiss on her aenti’s rose petal-like cheek, then went to the desk and snatched up a rudimentary drawing she and Aenti Beth had done some weeks past when they’d been looking through seed catalogs and planning the garden. She had some final touches to add to the sketch. She spent the next few minutes modifying the drawing.
“Does this look all right?” She handed her aenti the paper and waited with suppressed excitement while the older woman studied the neat drawing.
“Ya, Tabby, it will do—but mind you’re gentle with the deer tongue and oak leaf salad greens as always, child.”
Tabitha nodded. “I will be.” She grabbed her coat from the peg near the kitchen door.
“Where are you off to now?”
“To the greenhaus.”
Her aenti smiled. “Have a gut time.”
Tabitha went to the rather long greenhouse that she kept up during the winter and began to survey the plants, organizing the stoutest ones and adding a little fertilizer and water to the ones that had struggled to grow during the winter. She went to the work shed and gathered a shovel and trowel, put them in her pull wagon, and dragged it over the slushy snow back to the greenhouse. It was busywork, and something she could have done when planting time actually arrived, but she had to keep herself occupied.
Then she went to the garden. Right now it was covered with damp snow, but she could visualize what it would look like by the end of the month. She could practically feel the cold dirt beneath the soles of her boots, remembering how refreshing it was to go barefoot after the long winter. She surveyed the garden plot. She would plant the salad greens first, mindful of her aenti’s instructions, then add bibb and ruby leaf lettuces. After that she would focus on green onions and radish plants.
Perhaps Rob could help her with the planting this year.
Her mood dimmed, and she went back to the greenhouse. He was never far from her thoughts, which intensified her impatience. She tried to focus on the section of the greenhouse that held the plants she would put in once the danger of frost had completely passed—or as Aenti Beth liked to time it, “Once the last killing frost follows the last full moon in May.” Tabitha wasn’t sure how much her aenti believed in traditional wisdom, but it did seem to make sense and have accord with how Derr Herr conducted the weather. At this point she wondered if Rob would even be back in May.
She silently chastised herself. He was taking care of his grandfather. A noble cause to be sure. Here she was, healthy and with very little care in the world, save for her yearning for Rob. Her thoughts were pitiful and childish.
Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and gently stroked the bell pepper plant leaves stretching toward the morning sun coming in through the plastic roof. Suddenly she felt a brief peace in her heart. Her only memory of her mamm and daed was centered around budding plants—she must have barely been three, but she could remember her mamm’s gentle fingers showing her a plant and her fater’s deep laugh somewhere in the background. Soon after, they had both succumbed to the influenza, leaving Tabitha homeless but for the gentle love and kindness of Aenti Beth.
Tabitha sighed aloud as she stopped before the old crackle painted dresser where she kept her seeds. No matter how long ago it had been, every so often she missed her parents. She pushed her sad thoughts away and concentrated on the packets of heirloom seeds: tomatoes, green beans, zucchini, sweet corn, and melons. Ach, Gott has given us so much to be thankful for. She grew more cheerful, and she went on to organize the seed packets with grateful fingers.
As she watched Tabitha bustle about the yard and greenhouse, busying herself with the early spring chores, Elizabeth longed for the time when she was young and her grossmuder had allowed her out of her chair to pull herself along the fresh earth to help with the planting. No one thought it odd or called her strange as the mud seeped through the front of her work dress, and it gave Elizabeth the fun privilege of feeling like she was an especial part of Gott’s nature, like a worm or a caterpillar.
She remembered the clean, fresh smell of the ground, the sight of the tips of burgeoning baby grass, and the sound of the blue swallows as they swooped past, looking for a stray seed. But Elizabeth was always careful, especially with pumpkin seeds, to see that each was planted tip down in its little mound of earth. Later she was allowed to elbow among the growing, scratchy vines and leaves, careful to study and treat each green bulb with careful reverence as she explored the baby pumpkins.
Now she smiled to herself as she thought of being an old woman and what neighbors might think if she took to dragging herself along the ground, but the activity had taught her both exuberance and humility, and she was glad to share the love of the garden with her niece.
She pushed aside the nudging thoughts of what might happen to Tabby in the future with Fram, Beth’s bruder, due to inherit the small place. Then she sighed and concentrated on the sweetness of the moment, knowing Gott would have His will.
John headed out to the family woodworking shop soon after breakfast. His daed, Dan, was already there, polishing a burled elm veneer for a piano that an Englisch customer wanted.
“Sleeping in, sohn?” his fater teased in his normal, jovial way.
John smiled in return, knowing the gut humor of the big, barrel-chested man who had such a light hand with woodworking and a light heart along with it.
“Ya, though I did hear Matt snoring . . .”
They both laughed, each knowing Matthew’s penchant to work far into the early hours of the morning and then stagger out to the shop with only a few hours’ sleep.
John picked up a small lathe and ran a practiced finger down its edge. “Do you want me to start those spindle-back chairs, Daed, or—” He broke off as a red sports car wheeled into the slushy, muddy driveway, its tires spewing the wet earth everywhere. “Looks like we have an early customer,” John murmured with a faint frown. It wasn’t that he minded Englisch customers—in truth, the shop would not flourish as it did without them. But John didn’t appreciate the sometimes high-handed attitude that some of the younger Englischers seemed to possess, and the young man who got out of the car looked like such a fellow.
Still, John followed his fater’s actions and walked forward with a smile, even if it was a bit forced.
“What can we do for ya?” His daed asked pleasantly of the lanky youth who had long dirty blond hair and a sullen expression.
“You got any plants started yet? My mother sent me out—she’s more than a pain since she’s gotten older, you know what I mean?”
“No,” John said flatly, ignoring the warning wink his daed gave him.
“Well, we’re a woodworking outfit, but if you go down the road a mile on the right and ask real nice for Tabby Beiler, she’s likely to have something growing in her greenhouse. Although it is early to start planting.”
The young man shrugged. “I just do what she tells me.”
He’d started back to his car when John was struck by the sudden image of Tabitha being enticed into taking a ride in the red car—I can just see her, kapp off, long, blonde hair flying in the wind like lit sunlight, and Rob would absolutely never forgive me if she actually— “Ah, Daed. . . I mean, hey—buddy—I’ll ride down the road with you if you’d like,” John called. “Might be that she’ll give you a better deal if a neighbor was along.”
The blond youth shrugged. “Whatever. But don’t muddy up the car any more than you have to.”
John put down the lathe and glanced briefly at his daed.
“Being kind to strangers, John? Hmmm . . . I’ll have to tell your mamm; she’ll be pleased.”
“Right,” John mumbled, then hurried off to slide into the passenger side of the red car. He’d barely gained his seat when the kid took off at breakneck speed.
“You might want to slow down at bit,” John said laconically. “There’s a cow crossing ahead.”
“What?” The brakes were applied with fervor, and John caught the dashboard with one hand. “Dude,” the Englischer exclaimed. “How can you stand to live out here?”
“I manage. Turn here.” John indicated the narrow dirt road and the Beilers’ weather-beaten mailbox. I’ll have to do something about that mailbox post—I’m sure Rob would if he were here.
The Englisch kid let out a low whistle of appreciation as they came in sight of the house and clotheslines. John saw that Tabitha was stretching out a clothesline between two oak trees. He noticed her trim form was complemented by her pinned apron.
“That’s a fine-looking Amish girl, dude. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to live out here after all.” He turned to grin at John, who frowned faintly, confused by the surge of anger that pulsed through him.
John was not given to temper, nor was physical violence the way of his people. But right now he felt he could easily wring the kid’s neck and take pleasure in the doing.
“I’d calm down—er, dude,” John said. “If you expect to get any plants.”
“You dating her?”
“No,” John snapped, appalled.
“All right, calm down. I thought you Aim-ish were supposed to be all Zen-like and not flip out.”
John’s frown deepened as Tabitha began to cross to the car. “I am not flipping out.”
“Whatever.” The young man opened the car door, and John quickly followed suit, in time to see Tabitha smile shyly in greeting.
Why is she smiling at some Englisch kid when she should be missing Rob? John broke off in his thoughts when he saw the circles beneath her blue eyes and realized she was smiling for show and nothing more.
Tabitha tried to contain her enthusiasm at seeing John; she simply knew he must have word of Rob by now. She gave a brief, absent nod to the Englisch youth, then turned to gaze up into John’s blue eyes. But his dark brows were furrowed and he made a slight motion with his head, as if warning her off. She stopped, confused, until she realized he must be waiting to speak with her in private.
“Hiya, sweetheart.”
She looked up at the Englischer, suppressing a feeling of distaste when the young man took out a cigarette pack with his free hand. She glanced at John, who crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a faint shrug.
“There’s no smoking on this farm,” she said quickly, in pleasant tones. “It’s too dangerous with all of the baby grasses.”
“Aw—right.”
“Can I—help you both with something?” she asked, looking briefly once more in John’s direction.
John sighed and heaved his big frame off the car where he’d been leaning. “Uh, Tabitha, our friend here would like to buy some early seedlings for his mother—that is, if you have any ready.”
“Tony,” the Englischer supplied his name, making an awkward sidestep when Tabitha headed directly past him for the greenhouse.
“Do you know what your mother would like?” Tabitha asked. The two men had followed her into the greenhouse and now stood surveying the rows of tiny budding plants.
“I dunno. Some vegetables, I suppose. And flowers too. She was sick this winter and didn’t have time to raise them from seed like she usually does.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tabitha murmured politely. “Most of these plants are for our own garden, but I can spare two trays—a variety of vegetables and a few hardy flowers like marigolds and geraniums.”
“Fine,” the Englischer said. She could feel his gaze burning into her as she began filling brown box lids with plants. “There.” She turned with a bright smile and held the boxes out to Tony.
“Well, that was fast. I thought maybe we could have some time to get to know each other better.”
Tabitha suppressed a giggle as John now put his arm around the Englischer’s shoulders. “Nope. No time for that. Got to get the plants home to your dear mother,” John said heartily.
“Hey, let me at least pay the chick.” The boy looked all of his seventeen-some years, full of false bravado. Tabitha couldn’t help but contrast his boisterous immaturity with John’s measured and thoughtful regard. She began to suspect that he’d come along with the boy just to protect her from his narrisch flirting.
“The—uh—chick says the plants are at a discount. Five dollars.” Tabitha grinned. “Please give my compliments to your mamm.”
The Englischer passed her a bill, and John opened the car door with a flourish, deposited the plants, and waved Tony inside.
“Don’t you need a ride back, dude?”
Tabitha watched John shake his head. “The dude will walk.”
“Whatever.”
Tabitha waited until the red car had torn back up the lane, spewing mud and clumps of dirty snow from beneath its wheels, then turned to John. “Thank you for coming with him. I’m sure I could have handled him on my own, but it wouldn’t have been pleasant.”
“I dare say,” John said, his dry tone implying that this was the understatement of the year. He gestured at her muddy boots. “You’ve begun spring planting so soon?”
For some reason she blushed as she pulled one foot behind the other, as if to hide them. “Not yet. But I can’t wait to dig into the ground as soon as my aenti says the time is right.”
“She should know. My daed said once that she always had a great love for gardening.”
Tabitha nodded, and a moment of respectful silence fell. She appreciated his concern for Aenti; it spoke of a kind and thoughtful heart. Still, she had a more pressing matter to discuss with him—Rob, and whether he’d heard from his good friend. How should she raise the topic? In a roundabout way? Casually? Or straight out?
John made a move as if to leave, and all her calculations flew out the door. She reached for his arm, stopping him. She found herself asking, baldly and boldly, “Do you have a message from Rob for me?”