James came for Mari and Zachary on Saturday as he’d promised, and Mari felt a warm glow of excitement as his buggy stopped near Sara’s back door. She and Zachary donned their coats and hurried out to discover that James was alone. “Your sister didn’t come with you?”
“Emanuel and Roman both have upset stomachs,” James explained as he came around the back to help Mari into the buggy. “Zach, you scoot up on the bench and sit between us,” he said. “I promised to teach you the basics of driving, and this is as good a time as any to start.”
“Yes!” Zachary fist-pumped.
“I’m sorry the kids are sick.” Mari took James’s warm hand and stepped up easily, settling herself on the cushioned seat. Amish buggies were all supposed to be alike, but they rarely were. Some, like their owners, were sparse, dusty and needed sprucing up, while others boasted black leather seats, an oiled dashboard and a spotless interior. There were no fancy red, white and blue blinking lights or extras visible inside James’s vehicle, but the buggy had obviously been cleaned and recently painted inside.
“Mattie was disappointed to miss Lovina’s birthday party,” he said, “but Roman and Emanuel spent the afternoon sick to their stomachs. She could hardly inflict that on Anna and her guests.”
“I hope the babies don’t get sick, too.”
“I doubt it’s a virus,” James confided. “I think the problem might be related to a jar of oatmeal cookies they got into while their mother was changing diapers.”
Mari couldn’t help laughing. “Those boys are a handful.”
“That they are. The twins will have a high bar to get over if they want to match them for mischief. But Mattie has gone to so much trouble getting Roman and Emanuel to this age that I suppose she’ll have to keep them.”
Zachary, now sitting between them, glanced up at James, a worried look on his face.
“He’s teasing,” Mari assured her son. “Mattie loves all her children.”
“She does,” James agreed with a grin. “I think she even loves me, and when I was Roman’s age, I was worse than he is, if you can believe what Mattie says. She was a good big sister, and she’s a wonderful mother. She’s smart and she’s kindhearted. Women like that aren’t easy to find.”
“My mom’s smart,” Zach piped up, looking at James. “You could marry her, and then I could drive Jericho all the time.”
Mari could feel the heat rising from her neck upward. Mortified, she didn’t know what to say. As she opened her mouth to force something out, James laughed and tousled Zach’s hair. “Now, that’s an idea,” he said, grinning as he pressed the reins into her son’s hands. “This is how you hold the leathers. You have to be gentle but firm.”
Mari looked away, touching her hand to her cheek. She had to be bright red with embarrassment. “So Lovina lives with Anna and her husband, doesn’t she?” she asked. She knew very well that Lovina did, but she felt desperate to move the conversation to safer ground.
“She’s been living with them for a while.” James gently adjusted the reins in Zach’s hands again. “That’s right. Like that.”
Mari had learned from Sara that Lovina Yoder, Hannah’s first mother-in-law, had moved in with Hannah when she gave up her home in Ohio and moved to Seven Poplars. But the two never got on well. Anna was Lovina’s favorite granddaughter and the only one with whom she never found fault. Apparently, Lovina was happier in Anna’s home, and Anna and Samuel insisted that they loved having her with them.
“Lovina’s strong-willed, as is Anna, so they’re well suited to each other,” James went on. “Everyone thinks it’s a good solution.” And then to Zachary, he said, “We call the reins leathers. You hold them firmly, but you don’t jerk them or you’ll hurt the horse’s mouth. Jericho has a tender mouth, but he’s a smart horse and eager to please. Not all animals are so easy to drive, but you need to treat them all with respect, even the difficult ones.”
“James, you don’t have to do this today,” Mari said. “You could teach him another day, just around the farm.” They’d be traveling on the paved road with motor traffic once they reached the end of the drive, and Zachary knew nothing of horses.
“Mom,” her son protested. “I can do it. Peter and Rudy both drive on the road.”
“Samuel’s sons are older than you are,” she answered. “I’m sure they weren’t taking their parents’ buggy on the road at age nine.”
“This will be a short lesson today. Just until we get to the end of the lane.” James nodded his approval. “That’s it. Good grip. Now give him the order to ‘walk on.’”
“Walk on,” Zachary said, and he gave an excited sigh of delight when the horse obeyed.
Mari watched the serious way Zachary held the reins and felt a distinctly un-Amish pride in his first attempt at driving.
“That’s right,” James encouraged. He didn’t touch the reins himself, but Mari saw that he was watching Zachary closely. “Good,” James said. “You have a steady hand. Never let a horse know when you’re frightened or unsure of yourself because they’ll pick up on it and act accordingly.”
“Addy said that Lovina is her grandmother, as well?” Mari asked, starting to relax. James didn’t seem to be the least upset by Zach’s remark.
“Yes, Lovina is Martha’s mother. All right, Zach. I’ll take over now.” James took the reins, and Zachary dropped his hands into his lap.
“When can I drive again?” her son asked eagerly.
“Soon, I promise.” James waited until a car passed and then eased the horse and buggy onto the blacktop.
With James driving, Mari felt herself relax. “Anna lives near the school, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Zachary answered. “Right next door, just through the woods. Peter and Rudy just walk over. Most of the kids walk, and if I didn’t ride with Ellie, I could walk, too.”
Mari was still weighing the pros and cons of Zachary attending the Amish school, at least long-term as he was pushing for. She’d discussed it with Ellie at length and mulled it all over in her mind. But considering that Zachary wanted to go and was applying himself, she couldn’t think of a good reason to forbid it.
Since the Mast home was near Sara’s, less than two miles away, it didn’t take long to reach it. Mari could smell food as she climbed down from the buggy. “You go on in,” James told her. “Zachary and I will tie up Jericho.”
Rebecca saw her as she walked toward the house, waved and hurried to welcome her. “I’m so glad you could come.” Rebecca gave Mari a hug. “We’re going to eat soon. Anna baked a huge pineapple cake, and Grossmama can’t stop talking about it. She loves cake.”
The warmth of the big farmhouse, even larger and finer than Hannah’s, overflowing with relatives, friends and neighbors, enveloped Mari as Rebecca led her inside. Guests nodded, smiled and called out greetings to Mari and others who filed in behind her. The elderly Lovina was holding court in a high-backed, old-fashioned, cushioned chair near the woodstove that stood in one corner of the combination kitchen and dining room. Mari could see that the aging matron had once been tall and slim. Now she was rail-thin, her nose a sharp beak and her back bent, but her eyes as fierce as any hawk’s.
When Mari went to say hello, Lovina peered at her through her wire-rim glasses. “You have the look of your grossmama,” she pronounced in a raspy voice when Mari greeted her.
Sara had warned Mari that Lovina’s memory often failed her and that she suffered from early-stage dementia, but this white-kapped woman with the iron-gray hair who was sizing her up seemed alert and shrewd.
“Grossmama, this is Mari Troyer, Sara’s friend,” Rebecca introduced. “She’s from Wisconsin.”
“I know who she is.” Lovina spoke in Deitsch. She stared hard at Mari. “You’re Maryann Troyer’s granddaughter.”
Mari’s mouth gaped in surprise. “You knew my grandmother Maryann?”
“Pfff, and why wouldn’t I know her? We were second cousins. Grew up next door to each other. I’ve known Maryann since we were both in leading strings. She was Maryann Stutz then. She married some boy from Wisconsin and went off to live with his family.”
Rebecca took a step closer. Someone passed her a plate of food. She placed it on the small table beside Lovina’s chair and arranged a knife, fork and spoon where the elderly woman could reach it. “You and Mari’s grandmother are cousins?”
Lovina scowled at her. “Didn’t I just say we were? Second cousins, if you want to slice the ham close to the bone, but blood kin, all the same. So this skinny little thing from Wisconsin is family. Not only on my side, but on the Yoder side, as well. Double kin to you and your sisters. Maryann’s people settled in the valley two hundred years ago.” The beady eyes turned on Mari. “Glad you’ve had the sense to finally come to Delaware. Did you bring your grandmother?”
Mari shook her head. “She passed on.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, even if she has gone on to her reward. You have the look of Maryann, child. Welcome to my home.” Lovina turned abruptly to inspect her plate of food. “Stingy with the gravy, weren’t you, Rebecca?”
Mari could see the corners of Rebecca’s mouth twitching with amusement. “Anna made your plate, Grossmama. Just the way you like it. And you said not to give you too much gravy because you needed to leave room for cake.”
With the older folks’ and the children’s plates made, everyone else got into line to help themselves at the buffet table. “Was my grandmother really a cousin to Lovina?” Mari whispered in Rebecca’s ear when they were far enough away that there was no chance of Lovina overhearing.
Rebecca shrugged. “She must have been. Grossmama gets confused about a lot of things, but never about family ties. Wait until our mam and Sara hear. They’ll be delighted.” Rebecca hugged her again. “And that makes us cousins, too. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you,” Mari managed. She was almost too astonished to speak. Family. She had family here in Seven Poplars. It didn’t matter that the connections were old ones. Among the Amish any relative was important. If Lovina was right, she was a cousin to Hannah’s daughters and to Sara, as well. It didn’t seem possible. She’d thought that she and Zachary were alone in the world, but here were more relatives than she could count.
“I think Grossmama likes you,” Rebecca said as they joined the food line.
“You think so?” Mari asked. “How can you tell?”
Rebecca laughed. “Oh, if she didn’t, she’d have let you know. She and Aunt Martha both have a way of laying all their wash on the table.” She shook her head. “The good thing about being related to Grossmama is that Addy’s your cousin.” She rolled her eyes. “And the bad thing is that Aunt Martha is bound to try and find fault with you.”
“Oh, she’s already done that.” Mari hesitated, not sure if she should tell Rebecca about her and James at Byler’s, but she had a feeling that even if Martha hadn’t shared with everyone in Seven Poplars yet, it was only a matter of time before the word spread. She kept her voice low. “James gave me a ride home from work the other day and we stopped at Byler’s for a few things.”
Rebecca grabbed Mari’s forearm, amusement on her face. “And she caught you two alone together?”
“Eating ice cream,” Mari confessed.
Rebecca giggled.
“But we were just sitting at the picnic tables. We weren’t doing anything wrong.”
Rebecca gave a wave of dismissal. “Pay her no mind. She has this idea that she needs to monitor all the couples in the county. Some of the young folks are calling her ‘the courting police.’”
The line had moved forward, and it was almost their turn to fill their plates. “James and I aren’t a couple,” she whispered. “I don’t understand why everyone keeps saying that. I’m not even Amish.”
Rebecca waggled her finger. “According to Lovina, you are.”
Mari sighed. “You know what I mean. I haven’t lived this life in a very long time. I haven’t been baptized.”
Rebecca took Mari’s hand and looked into her eyes. “Do you want to be baptized?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know,” Mari whispered. “I think maybe yes, but...” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Rebecca, I’m so confused. If I’m honest with myself, I think James and I—” She exhaled. James and I what? “I don’t want to take this step for the wrong reasons. I need someone to tell me what to do.”
Rebecca squeezed her hand and let it go. “No one can tell you what’s right for you. You need to pray about it. And you need to talk to the bishop. Maybe he can help you figure out where God is leading you.”
“You think so?” Mari asked, wanting desperately to believe her. “He’d be willing to talk to me?”
“Absolutely. Now turn around—” she pointed over Mari’s shoulder “—and grab a piece of fried chicken for me before it’s all gone.”
* * *
The thought that the Yoders were family warmed Mari throughout the evening, and she was still smiling when James brought the buggy to Anna’s back door. “We don’t need to wait for Zach. He’s spending the night here with Johanna’s boys.” She made a face. “Ach, I hadn’t thought this through. I hope this won’t cause talk, you taking me home.”
“No worry,” he said, walking around to adjust a buckle on Jericho’s harness. “Everyone in Seven Poplars has already heard we’ve been to Byler’s for ice cream alone. Martha told Anna Yoder that we were secretly walking out together.” He winked at her. “We’ll be doing Martha a service, giving her something else to talk about.”
She smiled hesitantly back at him, trying to read his face. She knew, of course, that he was joking, but was there something more in his voice? Did he wish it were true? Or was that just her own wishful thinking?
Mari made no move to climb into the buggy; instead, she watched by the light of the gas lamppost as James unbuckled Jericho’s harness to make an adjustment. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Rebecca that she was confused. She was so confused. About everything. About how she felt about God and the church she’d grown up in. About how she felt about James. About her whole life and where she wanted to go from here. She’d come to Seven Poplars thinking she’d stay a few months, then get a nice trailer for Zachary and her. But now she didn’t want that. She wanted more. She wanted to belong to a community. She even thought that she wanted a family of her own: a husband, more children.
“Did you have a good time this evening?” James asked, still working on the harness. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you.”
“I did.” She tightened the wool scarf she wore around her neck. “Lovina says that she and my grandmother were second cousins. I never knew that much about my mother’s family because I was young when she died. But I do remember my grandmother Maryann telling me that she grew up on a farm in central Pennsylvania and that they’d been very poor.”
“And how do you feel about that?” he asked. “Being related to the Yoders?”
“I think it’s great. Wonderful. You probably don’t realize what it’s like because you have family all around you, but I really like the idea of belonging somewhere. Belonging to someone.”
“I know exactly what you’re saying. I was away for a long time, and there’s nothing like that feeling of coming home...of being among your own.”
“You do understand,” she said. She was so excited that she was at a loss for words. “I’ve always thought that Zachary and I were all alone in the world, and now... It’s a good feeling.”
He nodded.
She hesitated and then went on, “I talked a little bit with Rebecca tonight about church and...she suggested I talk with Bishop Atlee. And I was wondering...” She gazed out into the snowy barnyard. “I was wondering if you thought that would be a good idea.”
He turned around to face her. “Can I ask why you’d like to talk to him?”
She clasped her hands, looking into his dark eyes. “I...I feel like God is calling me back, but I... I don’t know, James.” She suddenly felt herself tearing up. “But I want to be sure I’m truly being called. I don’t want to become a part of the church just so I can be a part of all this.” She waved in the direction of the Mast house, where light danced from the windows and the sound of laughter drifted through an open door.
They were both quiet for a second. She couldn’t read his face.
Finally James spoke. “I think that talking to Bishop Atlee might be a very good idea. He can help you work your way through things. Pray with you. When I first came back, he was a lot of help. He has a good perspective. We did a lot of praying together.”
Mari felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She and James weren’t touching, but the way he was looking at her made her feel as if he had wrapped his arms around her. His name rested on her lips, but she didn’t say it.
“We should go,” he said.
She nodded, turning to face the buggy, her emotions all a jumble. The decision had been made. She was going to talk to the bishop. But the decision to do it felt good. It felt right.
“I’d be happy to make the arrangements with the bishop for you,” James offered. “He could come to Sara’s, and you could talk in private in her office.”
Mari reached up to grab the handhold on the buggy to step up, and he surprised her by coming up behind her, putting his hands around her waist and lifting her up. As she dropped onto her seat, her hand caught his. It was completely by accident, but then he squeezed it before letting go.
The intimacy of the gesture made her light-headed. She found herself surprised again by her own reaction. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way when a man touched her, almost too long to remember.
Flustered, she sat there in the moonlight, looking down at his kind, gentle face.
At that moment she felt as if he was going to say something, but then he turned and walked around the buggy to get in on his side.
It was still very cold as Jericho trotted down the driveway, but Mari didn’t feel the chill because the memory of James’s touch warmed her and filled her with a bubbly happiness.