Chapter Five
Wednesday morning, as Lydianne and Regina were settling into their work in the furniture factory’s staining room, the door opened. Gabe Flaud, Martin’s son and the shop foreman, smiled at them as he entered. Two familiar young women followed him in, taking in the room with curious gazes.
“Mary Frances and Nettie have agreed to try their hand at being stainers,” Gabe said, nodding at the sisters. “They’ve started work today so you two ladies can show them the ropes before you leave us on Friday.”
“What a great idea!” Lydianne nodded encouragingly at the two Umbles, who were daughters of the Flauds’ longtime cabinetmaker, Elmer. The sisters were in their late teens and wore their honey-brown hair pulled up beneath dark blue kerchiefs. “It’s not a difficult job, but it requires some concentration and careful attention to your brush strokes.”
“Jah, the biggest challenge is preventing drips—and brushing away stray rivulets of stain before they set and start to dry,” Regina put in as she went to a cabinet at the back of the room. “Let’s get you each a new brush and a container to hold some stain. You can start on these small tables after you’ve watched us for a bit.”
“You’re in gut hands, girls,” Gabe said to the Umble sisters. “Watch how Regina and Lydianne work and ask them all the questions you can think of.”
Lydianne couldn’t miss the playful wink Gabe flashed at Regina, his fiancée, before leaving the small room. She sighed to herself. Lydianne knew she could never marry, but she envied her redheaded friend’s happiness.
Regina’s freckled face turned a becoming shade of pink as she watched Gabe leave. “Truth be told, we’re happy you girls have applied for these jobs. We believe women are much more patient and meticulous than men when it comes to staining.”
“And we’d advise you to pick out a couple of your oldest, most faded dresses and wear them all the time,” Lydianne said, gesturing at the multi-colored smears of stain on her shabby gray dress.
“Figure on having permanently stained cuticles, too,” Regina put in as she held up her hands for the girls to see. “You can clean your hands ’til the cows come home—and it’s not a gut idea to use brush cleaner on your skin, so we use borax soap. As you can see, however, I wear my work wherever I go. I’m hoping the stains will be gone in time for my wedding.”
Nettie eagerly grasped her new brush, watching closely as Lydianne poured a small amount of oak stain into the two containers. At eighteen, she was short and stocky, like her dat, while Mary Frances was a little taller and a year older. “How do you know what color you’re supposed to use? Looks like you’ve got a lot of big cans of stain in your cabinet.”
Lydianne pointed to the order form that was stuck to the corkboard on the cabinet door. “When an order’s pieces are all complete and sanded, one of the men sets them in here with a form like this,” she explained. “It tells you exactly what pieces are included, what type of stain to use—”
“As well as when the furniture is supposed to be shipped out,” Regina continued. “Depending upon how humid it is, you need to allow at least a couple of days for stain and varnish to dry.”
“It’s noisy in here because we always have the exhaust fan running,” Lydianne said, pointing to the large fan in the building’s exterior wall. “But if we left the door open, sawdust and other stray particles from the shop would drift in and stick to the stain. Then the finish would be speckled and imperfect, and we’d have to sand the piece down and start all over.”
“Just like when you paint a wall, you begin at the top,” Regina said as she deftly brushed stain across the left edge of the bench top she was working on. “You start high and work low on a piece of furniture.”
Mary Frances watched closely, nodding. “We do all the painting around home,” she remarked. “That’s partly because Mamm won’t climb a ladder—”
“And Dat doesn’t put down a drop cloth or pay attention to where the paint’s dripping,” Nettie joined in.
“He also painted the windows shut up in Mamm’s sewing room, so now she won’t let him near a paintbrush,” Mary Frances put in with a chuckle. “We think he did it on purpose, because he really hates to paint.”
The small room filled with their laughter. As the morning went by, Lydianne felt confident that the Umble sisters would do their very best to produce the top-quality finishing that Martin Flaud demanded—even if it might take them a while to work up to the production speed she and Regina had reached.
* * *
When Martin came into the staining room Friday morning to observe the Umble sisters’ progress, he studied the end tables and chairs they had completed. Lydianne thought his smile might be hiding a secret as he exchanged pleasantries with the four of them, until he finally cleared his throat.
“You ladies have insisted you don’t want any fuss or even a special lunch before you leave us,” he said in a voice that quavered a little. He gazed at Lydianne and Regina as he pulled two envelopes from his pocket. “I want you to know again how much I’ve appreciated your fine workmanship, and I wish you both the best in the new lives you’ll soon be taking on.
“Here are your final checks—and I’m turning you loose early,” Martin continued as he handed them out. He was keeping his voice light, but his eyes held the telltale shine of sentimental tears. “Neither of you has missed much work over the past few years, so you deserve extra time off today.”
Lydianne’s eyes widened. “Well, denki, Martin! I surely wasn’t expecting—”
“Gee, if Lydianne didn’t make out these paychecks, who did?” Regina teased as she accepted hers.
Martin laughed. “That would be me,” he replied. “Before Lydianne started keeping our books, I was the payroll clerk—so now I hope I can keep the factory solvent as I take up that role again. Now scoot on out of here before we get all sentimental about your leaving.”
“Put your brushes in the cleaning jar, and we’ll take care of them later,” Mary Frances offered as she waved them off.
Nettie nodded, her smile accentuated by little speckles of stain on her chin. “You’ve been patient teachers, and we’ll do our best to keep up your gut work and the shop’s reputation.”
Her boss’s wistful remarks had surprised her, but Lydianne didn’t question Martin’s motives. She and Regina slipped out of the staining room and exited the factory through the back door near the big exhaust fan without any of the men in the shop seeming to notice. The two of them quickly crossed the lawn, until they rounded the corner of the big metal factory building where none of the employees would see them.
“Woo-hoo!” Lydianne cried out joyfully as she grabbed Regina’s hands. “I feel like a girl who just sneaked out of the schoolroom to play hooky—except we won’t be going back!”
“I had no clue that Martin would let us go early!” Regina said as she began to bounce like a pogo stick.
Lydianne joined her, feeling delightfully free as she hopped up and down. After a moment she stopped to peek inside her envelope—and then she gasped. “My stars! This is—well, Martin gave me quite a nice bonus. How about you?”
Regina quickly pulled her check out and stared at it. “Who knew he’d be so generous?” she asked in amazement. “Not that long ago, I thought he was becoming a very difficult man to work for, what with his critical remarks—”
“But he’s turned over a lot of new leaves since his heart problems were fixed—and since you and Gabe have gotten engaged,” Lydianne added emphatically. “I should probably use some of this money for dress fabric. I surely can’t wear my grubby old staining clothes in the classroom.”
“It’s time I upgraded my wardrobe, too,” Regina agreed. “I won’t want to wear my factory dresses once I’m Gabe’s wife, after all. It’ll be nice to wear fresh clothes while I tend the house and embroider linens for my customers at The Marketplace.”
Lydianne smiled at her best friend, feeling more buoyant than she had in months. What a gift it was to receive unexpected time off, along with extra pay! “What if we walk uptown to the fabric store and choose some colorful fabric right now—and then I’ll treat you to a pizza? It’s a big day for us, and before long I won’t be able to dilly-dally on a weekday, ain’t so?”
“That’s right, Teacher Lydianne. Better enjoy being a free woman while you can.”
“Puh! Same back at you, Miss Miller!” Lydianne teased as she slipped her arm through Regina’s. “Once you’re Mrs. Flaud, you’ll be answering to Gabe and keeping your household in order. I say we also deserve ice cream after our pizza, ain’t so?”
* * *
That evening, Jeremiah closed his eyes as he sang the smooth, sustained bass line of “Precious Lord, Take My Hand” with several men from the congregation who’d gathered on his front porch. He looked forward to these weekly musical gatherings with his friends because they brought the weekdays to a satisfying conclusion with a sense of harmony that came as much from longtime friendships as from the songs Gabe chose for them to practice.
As the last chord drifted on the breeze, Gabe made the cut-off sign with his hands. “I think we’ve got that one down,” he remarked with a nod. “What are your thoughts about doing a few of our songs at the Shetler reunion, middle of September, and then at the Flaud family gathering on the twenty-ninth?”
“I think we should go for it!” Glenn piped up. “Who doesn’t enjoy listening to uplifting music that’s snappier than what we sing in church?”
Jeremiah was pleased to hear Detweiler’s upbeat tone of voice and opinion. The young widower had become immersed in the songs they sang during these Friday night sessions, probably because they gave him a break from his woodshop work and the day-to-day routine with his little boys and his elderly parents.
And Glenn had a point. It was hard to ponder problems while they were singing gospel harmonies and interesting rhythms. They learned their selections from songbooks that had full musical notation—which Gabe was adept at teaching them—and the gospel songs were a world apart from the ancient hymns written in the Ausbund, which were text on the pages arranged verse by verse, like poetry.
“Delores has been hinting to some of the far-flung relatives that we fellows will be singing at the reunion,” Martin said.
With a squeak of the screen door, Jeremiah’s mamm stepped out to the porch to refill their pitcher of lemonade. “I’m hoping you fellows will perform, too,” she put in. “Maybe we could take some time during those reunions to listen to your music, and then you could pass around song sheets and lead us in a sing-along! Everyone would enjoy that.”
Deacon Saul laughed. “Jah, and it might relieve the tedium of the chit-chat after the reunion meals,” he teased. “With some folks who come, you can run out of things to visit about after a while.”
“Some of them talk about the very same aches and pains from one year to the next,” Reuben Detweiler remarked with a chuckle. “I’m all for offering a little entertainment at both of those reunions. We practice every week, so we might as well share the ability the Gut Lord has given us, ain’t so?”
“That’s the spirit!” Jeremiah said, nodding at his friends. “Seems to me we have a special gift to offer, thanks to Gabe’s ability to teach and direct us. It’s also a bonus that such a gut and positive activity has come from the musical secret Gabe kept for so many years, and for which he served out his bann,” he added with a smile for the younger man. “After all, if Gabe hadn’t confessed to taking guitar lessons and slipping in to play the Methodist church’s piano, we wouldn’t be learning so much more about music from him.”
Gabe smiled gratefully. “It’s settled then. I think we’ll be a big hit!” he remarked as he collected the songbooks. “Margaret’s been kind enough to bring us more lemonade, and after all our singing, I’m ready for a big glassful.”
“I’ll pour!” Glenn said as he rose from his porch chair. “I ran across a really gut deal this week, and I’m excited about it.”
All the men smiled encouragingly at the carpenter as they held out their glasses. “How’s that, Glenn?” Jeremiah asked as he accepted a refill. “We’re all happy that you’ve found something that makes you happy.”
Glenn’s dark beard parted with his wide smile. “A friend of mine who builds a lot of decks had a customer cancel, and he can’t return the pricey composite boards that’re already cut to size,” he began. “I snapped up a bunch of the shorter boards, and I’ve been making picnic tables for the new schoolhouse! They’ll pop apart so we can store them in the winter, and they’ll stand up to the summer sun and rain without any maintenance. I think Teacher Lydianne’s going to be tickled that she and the kids can eat their lunches outside when the weather’s nice.”
“What a great idea!” Saul exclaimed. “I think the district should reimburse you for those materials. That composite decking isn’t cheap.”
“I bet you folks that run shops at The Marketplace will be using them for your lunch breaks, too,” Matthias Wagler put in as Glenn refilled his glass.
Gabe smiled. “That’s another great idea—especially when we get into cooler fall weather,” he said. “Awfully nice of you to put your time into such a project, Glenn.”
Jeremiah hoped his expression didn’t betray his mixed feelings about Detweiler’s generous offering to the schoolhouse grounds. He suddenly wished he had the talent for crafting something useful and enjoyable, because he wanted to see the look of surprised gratitude on Lydianne’s face when he gave it to her.
But he was a farmer, not a carpenter. His building skills enabled him to make basic repairs to barn stalls, fences, and equipment, but he lacked the ability to create anything of true beauty. A lot of woodworkers made their fiancées cedar-lined hope chests or other pieces of fine furniture, but he’d resorted to giving Priscilla a clock—which still sat on the dresser upstairs. She had treasured it, and Jeremiah remembered her lovingly each and every time he looked at it.
Why are you thinking about engagement gifts? Why can’t you be pleased that Glenn is so excited about his surprise—which is more for the schoolhouse than for Lydianne, after all?
Despite his prayers and best intentions, Jeremiah sat out on the porch in the darkness long after his friends had gone home. What might he give to the district’s new teacher—or do for her—that would convince Lydianne to spend time with him rather than with Detweiler?