Eunice was back at the yarn shop Monday morning. She enjoyed Mondays because the business was technically closed. She didn’t have to interact with customers who had perfectly legitimate questions about yarn and stitches, crocheting and knitting, tension and whether or not to block their work. Eunice couldn’t answer any of those questions. She figured she could fill a book with the things she didn’t know. Which didn’t bother her as much as it had at first. She would learn. Myra was determined to teach her. As for this fine Monday, she was able to spend the entire day stocking shelves, updating the window displays and pricing items.
She was surprised when Myra used her key to unlock the front door and walked in with a tall dark-haired man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His clothes were conservative—dark pants and a blue cotton button-up shirt. He didn’t have a phone glued to the palm of his hand like many of their customers. She didn’t think he was Amish, but he wasn’t Englisch, which probably meant he was Mennonite.
“Eunice. I’m so glad you’re here. I just shared a coffee with my cousin, Lester. He’s from over in Goshen.”
“Good to meet you.” He didn’t offer his hand to shake, but he walked closer and beamed at her. “Myra tells me you’re learning to knit.”
“I hope she wasn’t giving you horror stories about my mistakes over coffee.”
“Ha. Nope. She actually said you’re a good employee and a valuable part of her retail team.” He lowered his voice in a mock whisper. “She speaks like she’s Englisch sometimes.”
Myra shook her head in amusement. “There’s nothing wrong with being business savvy. And before you make fun of that, I’m going to go find the retailer information I promised you. Give me a second.”
Uh-oh. Was she supposed to entertain Lester until Myra returned? She needn’t have worried. He walked around the shop, picking up things and setting them back down.
“Looking for anything in particular?”
“Nope. I don’t knit.” He smiled again. “My sisters do though. This would be a great place to buy them a gift.”
“Believe me we have all types of yarn and doodads, which is not the official name for knitting accessories and supplies.”
Lester perched on a stool she’d pulled out of the storeroom. Sometimes it was nice to sit while she was restocking, and Eunice usually drug it around the store with her on Mondays.
“What retailer information is Myra fetching? Surely you don’t need to purchase that much yarn for your schweschdern.”
“Nope. I am not interested in purchasing yarn in bulk. My aenti is opening a craft shop in Goshen, and she doesn’t know who to purchase display racks from.”
“Ah. We definitely have plenty of those.” Eunice resumed hanging packets of stitch stoppers on a rotating display. This new order they’d received featured cute little farm animals. They were made of rubber and used to put on the end of needles while you were in the middle of a project so the stitches didn’t fall off. Hence the name stitch stoppers. She almost explained all of that to Lester, then realized he would not care about stitch stoppers.
“Myra tells me you’re a real whiz with electronics.”
“Not electronics as much as small engines.”
“And you know how to fix them?”
“I do. I’m the proverbial black sheep—an Amish woman who doesn’t knit or quilt or sew. Plus, I often have grease under my fingertips.” She inspected her fingertips, sure she’d managed to banish any residue of grease, but nope...right pointer finger had a thin line of black under the nail. She held it up and shrugged.
Lester laughed, which served to put Eunice at ease. He hadn’t been offended or shocked by her revelation. He hadn’t even looked at her like she was a bizarre creature simply because she enjoyed working on small engines. And he didn’t ply her with a thousand questions. Instead, they moved on to talking about fall festivals and Thanksgiving plans. He worked at the Mennonite college in Goshen. “I’m not a full professor, not yet. Just finished my undergraduate work and this semester I’m starting on my master’s degree.”
“What field?”
“Literature. I’m something of a bookworm,” he confessed.
Myra bustled back into the room, and Eunice returned to her work. Lester made a point to say goodbye to her before he left.
“It was nice to meet you,” he said.
“Ya. You too.”
She didn’t give the encounter much thought, but the next morning he called up to ask if they had stitch markers.
“I have no idea what those are,” he admitted. “But my schweschder said she’d love to have some for Christmas—a not too subtle hint.”
“Actually, I just put more out on the display racks. We have all kinds. I’m sure Myra would be happy to set some back for you.” She thought the conversation would end there, but they ended up talking about books. When he asked her, she shared that her favorite book was Little Women. “I could always relate to Jo,” she confessed.
“So you were something of a tomboy?”
“Still am, actually. I’ve stopped climbing trees, but I still enjoy working in the barn.” It was mid-morning, and there was no one in the shop. She was manning the register, but since there was no one to check out she leaned on the counter and enjoyed the conversation with a charming man whom she’d just met.
He told her about some of his students and how much he was looking forward to the holiday break. She told him about the tours, how much she’d enjoyed the first three, how much she was looking forward to the next one.
“I have one more class to teach, but if it’s okay, I’ll stop by and pick up some of those stitch markers around three.”
“Sure. I leave at two thirty, but I’ll put your name on the items.”
“Not necessary. I can rearrange my afternoon meetings. I’ll be there by two.”
The rest of the morning flew, lunchtime was busy and then things settled down. When the bell over the door rang at two o’clock on the dot she nearly fell off her stool. This time, Lester was wearing a white cotton shirt and black pants.
“You’re back.”
“I am.”
They spoke for a good fifteen minutes. Lester seemed interested in whatever she had to say. Eunice wasn’t used to that sort of attention, especially from a man. She found herself comparing him to Zeb. Lester was probably an inch taller. Both were thin, but Lester didn’t have the same muscular look about him that Zeb had. Since Lester made his living teaching literature, that made sense to her.
Eunice thought it was funny that he’d missed seeing Myra, who had stepped out for a quick errand. “She should be back soon.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I like talking to you.”
Eunice blushed, unsure how to answer that.
“Say, would you like to go out this weekend?”
“Go out?”
“Yeah. Surely, you’ve heard of the custom. I pick you up, we go somewhere, maybe enjoy a meal.”
She laughed. “I know what going out means. I was just surprised, is all.”
“Why would you be surprised?”
“Because you’re a college graduate and I spend my time working on small engines or stocking shelves in a yarn shop.”
“Both are perfectly respectable jobs.”
“I guess you’re right. They are.”
“So, is that a yes?”
Her mind flashed to Zeb, then Josh. She pushed the images away. Zeb had made it quite clear that he was not interested in being anything more than her friend, and at times she wasn’t even sure about that.
“It’s a yes. I’d love to.” She pulled a piece of paper off the notepad by the register and wrote her address on it.
“Four o’clock Friday?”
“Better make it five. I have a tour.”
“Right.” His eyes danced. “Tours—your other job. I can’t wait to hear more about it.”
She walked around the rest of the day in a bit of a daze. She couldn’t believe it. She, Eunice Yoder, had a date. It was a little frightening to think about that, but hadn’t she vowed to start taking steps forward in her life? She had. And this was a nice solid step. She. Had. A. Date.
And she hadn’t even needed her dat to set it up.
Imagine that.
Zeb had thought the day was going well. It wasn’t that he felt immediately better after his revelation over the weekend, but he had the sense that he was at least moving in the right direction. Then, Eunice had mentioned that she was going on a date with some guy named Lester whom she’d met in the yarn shop and was Mennonite. He wasn’t even Amish!
“You can’t go out with a Mennonite.”
“Excuse me?” The look she gave him dared him to go there.
“What I mean is—” Zeb’s words stumbled, then ground to a halt.
“Go on. This should be interesting.”
They were standing at the back of Becca’s kitchen. The weather had turned cold and blustery, and he thought they might have snow before the weekend was over. Which was fine with him. He didn’t mind a little snow. Covered everything up real nice and made it all look pretty and clean. Made for a nice buggy ride too.
No doubt, Lester drove a car not a buggy. He thought about pointing that out to Eunice, but she might think that was a plus instead of a negative. She might like riding in Englisch automobiles.
“What does your dat say?”
“What does my dat say?” Eunice was looking at him with her eyebrows arched high and the expression on her face indicating that the top of her head might blow off. “Zeb, that’s none of your business. But since you’re interested, he said—and this is a direct quote—‘I hope you have a good time.’”
He would have left it at that, would have left her there in the kitchen, but the sitting room was full of Englischers, and it was cold outside.
They stood there in awkward silence for a moment. When had things become so awkward between them? He’d always felt more comfortable around Eunice than anyone else in school. When had that changed?
Adulthood was not all it was cracked up to be.
She sighed heavily and stared down into her coffee mug. He could hear Josh and Mary playing in the next room. Becca was describing one of her mission trips to the guests. Zeb folded his arms and scowled at the opposite wall.
Eunice rinsed out her mug and set it in the sink. She was about to leave the room when Zeb sank into a chair at the table and said, “I spoke with Ezekiel on Monday.”
“Oh?”
He pushed out the adjacent chair with his foot. He was hoping she’d take that small gesture as an invitation and sit down. She did, and then he wasn’t sure what to say.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
They sat there, silent for another moment, and then Zeb admitted, “Earlier today I saw a doctor in Goshen.”
He looked at Eunice and his heart skipped a beat. He knew that wasn’t really a thing. Suzanne had sometimes read romance books tagged with Inspirational Romance—which was supposed to mean they were faith based. She would check them out from the library and then read him parts. She loved finding the lines where someone’s heart skipped a beat, and then she’d get the giggles.
But looking at Eunice, who was waiting for him to explain this conversation he had started—a conversation he wasn’t certain he was ready to have—it really did feel like his heart hesitated, then decided to continue beating.
“Are you okay?” Eunice asked.
“Nein. Apparently, I’m clinically depressed.”
“Oh. I could have saved you the money and told you that.” She didn’t seem to mean it flippantly.
The way she was looking at him, he thought that she was actually feeling compassion for him, for his situation. So instead of arguing with her, he simply nodded.
“It’s been two years since Suzanne’s passing. Right?”
“Yup. That’s one of the differences between grief and depression. Grief is a normal thing people go through.” He glanced up and searched for understanding in her eyes. Finally, he said, “Like your family did when your mamm passed.”
“Ya. That’s true. I can remember a heavy cloud that hung over my family during that time. I was quite young—only four—but a four-year-old still notices things. Even a child can tell when the people around them are sad.”
He thought of Josh. Thought of the way his son had looked at him when he’d asked if Zeb’s sadness was because of him. He closed his eyes and heard the boy’s laughter coming from the next room.
“Grief is normal, but what I’m going through isn’t. It’s depression.” He attempted to chuckle, but it fell flat.
“Don’t be embarrassed.”
“Because I can’t handle a natural part of life? Why would that embarrass me?” He sat back in the chair, crossed his arms and stared at the doorway that led from the kitchen to the sitting room. “Apparently, I’ve allowed myself to become isolated. Honestly, I would skip church if I could get away with it. But the last thing I want is more people wondering what’s wrong with me.”
“Why do you think that is? Why would you rather be alone?” Eunice waited, looking quite interested in his answer.
Had she been able to sense that he didn’t want to be there when they had church services or luncheons? Had everyone noticed? He’d thought he’d done such a good job of hiding what he was feeling, but perhaps that wasn’t true. Perhaps his pain had been obvious to everyone but him. Because he’d refused to look at it. He’d refused to deal with it.
“I guess because I think no one understands what I’m going through.”
“Some do.”
“Yup. That’s what Doctor Ellington said.” He shrugged, met her gaze for a second before he resumed staring at the doorway. “Seeking isolation, feeling disconnected and shunning support. Those are the three big things that distinguish depression from grief.” He peeked back at her and almost laughed.
Eunice looked as if she wanted to jump up and shout glory, hallelujah.
“This is a positive turn of events,” she said.
“It is?”
“Yes. Since you’ve been back, you’ve reminded me of a tomcat that wants to come inside, but also doesn’t want to let anyone near.”
“You’re comparing me to a tomcat?”
She shrugged, and he couldn’t help smiling. He could trust Eunice to tell him what she was really thinking. She wasn’t one to hold on to something then say it behind your back. It was one of many things he liked about her.
“That took courage, Zeb. Going to Bishop Ezekiel—well, we all do that at one time or another.”
“You have?”
“Of course. I was so upset when my dat first came up with the Kentucky ultimatum that I went to speak with him several times. He helped me to see that my dat loves me and is trying to help me through a difficult time. The problem was that I didn’t see my situation as difficult. I saw it as the perfect life.” She drummed her fingers against the table. “But going to see a doctor, that must have been hard. Amish barely go when they’re physically sick. It’s even more rare for us to go for mental health.”
“Funny that you use that phrase—mental health. It’s not one we toss around every often.”
“Both Ethan and Aaron struggled with family issues. And their dat, well, he was in the hospital in Goshen more than once to help treat his bipolar disorder.”
He again looked directly at her. “I didn’t know that.”
“Yup. Then their parents moved—”
“Like mine.”
“But for different reasons. Esther didn’t know what else to do. This was after the fire that Zachary had unintentionally caused. She insisted they move to Florida to be near her parents. Esther insisted that she needed help.”
“Wow.”
“Yup.”
Guests began filing into the kitchen, putting their dishes in the sink, thanking Eunice and Zeb and Becca. They all hurried back to their tour vehicle, which was Jocelyn’s van. She’d gone outside to turn it on a few minutes earlier, so it would be nice and toasty when the tourists climbed back in. Many of the tourists waved from behind the windows as Jocelyn drove away.
Eunice and Zeb and Becca stood on the porch, coats pulled tight, watching the van drive down the lane. Zeb didn’t go back into town with them, since his place was on this side of Shipshe, like the Yoders’. It was all working out quite well, which was something that surprised him.
“I feel like we’re doing important work here,” Becca said.
“How so?” Zeb kind of agreed with her, but he didn’t know how to put it into words. He was interested in her answer. How could a little farm tour be important?
“Think of it this way. We’re helping people step away from the stress and loneliness of their lives. You don’t have to be Plain to know your neighbor or to help one another. You don’t have to be Amish to share tea and cookies with a neighbor.”
“We don’t have all the answers,” Eunice pointed out.
“Indeed, we don’t.” Becca grinned broadly, then walked back into the house leaving Zeb and Eunice to watch the season’s first snowflakes fall.
Josh and Mary dashed out past them and into the lightly swirling snow. Laughing. Twirling in circles. Holding their heads back and trying to catch a snowflake on their tongues. Talking about the first snowmen of the season. It reminded Zeb of when he and Eunice were young. When they used to run and play at recess and lunch. It seemed that Eunice had always been a part of his life, as she was now.
He had a sudden urge to reach for her hand. He didn’t. It would probably scare her to death. She was a gut friend, and he needed to tell her that he appreciated her.
Not today though. He’d do it another time. He’d do it when they had a few moments alone.