By nine thirty Saturday morning the pancake breakfast at the Mennonite church was in full swing. Leah stood at the six-burner stove in the big kitchen flipping pancakes, while Daniel’s aunt Joyce stirred up another batch of batter. The cheerful room, with its large windows overlooking picnic tables and a children’s playground, was buzzing with activity. Caroline, Aunt Joyce’s daughter, was loading the commercial dishwasher while her sister Leslie poured orange juice and another woman, Gwen, wiped down the counters. Eight-year-old Yasmin, another of Daniel’s cousins, darted in and out of the kitchen carrying napkins and fresh jugs of maple syrup.
Daniel and his aunt had been close, and Joyce had always been kind and welcoming to Leah. So when Aunt Joyce asked her to help with the fundraiser for the Mennonite school, Leah was only too happy to pitch in. When Thomas heard she was going, he offered to go, too, saying he liked the idea of seeing what her life had been like as a Mennonite woman. Everyone at the church had been pleased to have an extra set of hands and Thomas had immediately been put to work serving the breakfasts with the other men. Always the good sport, he hadn’t even complained when Aunt Joyce had tied an oversize white apron around him.
“We’re just waiting for the final approval from the court,” Aunt Joyce said, continuing with her update on the impending adoption of her foster child, Yasmin. “We applied over a year ago, after she came to live with us, but there’s a great-grandmother objecting to the placement. Yasmin lived with her when she was an infant, but the grandmother is elderly and in poor health. Social Services thinks our adoption application will still be approved, but the process is slow.”
“The entire church is praying for your family,” Gwen said as she sprayed the counter with cleaner. “You can see how happy the child is. When she first came she was so shy and withdrawn she hardly said a word to anyone. Look at her now.”
“I’ll keep you in my prayers,” Leah assured Joyce.
“As you remain in ours.” Joyce turned on the mixer. When the contents of the bowl were sufficiently blended, she carried the pancake batter to the stove. “We expect another run soon,” she said. “The Janzen family hasn’t arrived yet, and they said they were bringing their neighbors.”
Leah nodded. “I’ll get started on another batch, but we can pop them in the warm oven when they’re done. We don’t want to serve anyone a cold breakfast.” She smiled. “And who knows, the Janzens all might want bacon and eggs instead of pancakes.” She used a spatula to remove the pancakes that were done and slid them onto serving-sized plates as Thomas came in through the swinging doors, carrying an empty tray.
“Three more for pancakes,” he said.
Leah turned to look at him. His straw hat was pushed up on his forehead, and his name tag hung precariously from one strap of the apron. “Were any of the guests surprised to find their waiter was Amish?” she teased as she dried her hands on her apron and approached him to straighten his name tag.
Thomas shrugged. “If they were, they had the good manners to not say so. Except for one little boy, who asked me if my mama hadn’t taught me to take my hat off in the house.”
She adjusted his name tag, smiling up at him. “What did you say?”
“What could I say?” Thomas grinned. “I told him that I was carrying food and had to keep my hat on or wear a hairnet.”
“Good answer. You can take those.” She stepped back, indicating the pancakes she’d just taken off the griddle.
Thomas scooped up the big oval plate that had both blueberry and plain pancakes on it and deposited it on the tray, then reached for a serving plate of bacon. He grinned and winked at her as he hurried back out of the kitchen with the tray. Leah couldn’t help chuckling. Some Amish men were uncomfortable with women’s work, but not Thomas. She liked that about him; he reminded her of her father, who had not been above grabbing a dishcloth and helping wash dishes after supper.
Leah walked back to the stove and used a ladle to pour more batter onto the hot griddle. As she replaced the bowl on the counter she made eye contact with Aunt Joyce. To her puzzlement, her usually good-natured aunt was frowning. “What’s wrong?” Leah asked.
Aunt Joyce shook her head. “Later.”
Leah glanced around the kitchen. Everyone was still working steadily. Had she missed something? “Aunt Joyce—”
“Later, dear,” Aunt Joyce repeated, and turned her attention to putting away a stack of clean dishes.
The older woman’s odd behavior nagged at Leah, though, and when Joyce headed outside to carry scraps of food to the compost bin, Leah followed her. “Aunt Joyce,” she said, quickening her step to keep up with the older woman. “Have I said something to upset you?”
Joyce stopped, considered Leah and took a deep breath. “It’s simply that...I have to tell you that it pains me to see your behavior with that young man. It’s...not appropriate, Leah.”
“What behavior’s not ‘appropriate’?” she asked, trying not to get her feathers ruffled. “What did I do?”
“Making eyes at him, of course. And...touching him. All the flirting. I’m not a prude, Leah. I was young once. But you aren’t a girl. You’re a widow. In my mind, you shouldn’t be putting your hands on a man not your husband. It’s not a good example for the younger ones in our congregation. Or in our family. It’s clear to me that you’re besotted with the boy. The two of you are as giggly with each other as a pair of teenagers.”
“I’m sorry,” Leah said, crushed at the criticism. “I didn’t even realize I’d—” Then she remembered she had adjusted Thomas’s name tag a few minutes earlier in the kitchen. And when he’d untied her apron strings in fun, their fingers might have caught for just a moment. But nothing had been inappropriate. And she’d certainly not been making eyes at him. “Aunt Joyce, I’m sorry. I thought you knew that Thomas and I are courting.” Courting couples were generally given more leeway in their behavior because a couple who announces a courtship is announcing their intentions to marry if all goes well.
“Courting, are you?” Joyce sniffed.
Leah softened her tone, wondering if she hadn’t been as considerate of Aunt Joyce’s feelings as she should have. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring Thomas. “It’s been over a year since Daniel died. My family and I agree it’s time I marry again. It’s what Daniel wanted.” She hesitated. “Do you think it’s too soon?”
Joyce’s brow wrinkled. “Of course not,” she answered tersely. “No one expects a widow of your age to remain alone. It wouldn’t be natural. But...” She stiffened and walked on purposefully. The church was deeply concerned with earth-friendly practices and had installed a series of covered bins along the wall of a storage shed. Food scraps went into a compost bin that was turned regularly to produce clean garden soil. Joyce lifted the lid and deposited the contents of her bucket. “I’m just going to come out and say this, dear. It’s fine that you remarry. It’s your duty. But it isn’t...it just isn’t respectful to Daniel to take up with someone like Thomas.”
“‘Someone like Thomas’?” Leah repeated, having no idea what she meant.
“I have nothing against Thomas,” Joyce said with a sharp nod of her chin. “He’s quite likable, in fact. Witty. A handsome face. So full of life.” She leaned closer. “Which makes him totally unsuitable,” she said, lowering her voice, “for a second marriage.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s nothing wrong with following one’s heart’s desires, a body’s inclinations, the first time around. But out of respect for your deceased husband and for his family,” she said pointedly, “you need someone more appropriate. A woman in your position doesn’t marry for love.”
“I’m not in love with Thomas,” Leah argued. “This is an arrangement made by a matchmaker.”
“You should come to supper tomorrow night,” Joyce went on, not seeming to have heard her. “There’s someone I want you to meet, a member of our church. Eldon Goosen. He’s older, a widower with children who need a mother, and he’s asked about you. He thinks you seem like a good worker. Eldon’s going to Poland to take up a mission in July or August. Plenty of time for the two of you to become acquainted. And an excellent second marriage for both of you.”
Leah took a step back, feeling a little numb. What would make Aunt Joyce think she was in love with Thomas? “A Mennonite man won’t do. I’ve decided to become Amish again. It’s important to my family and to me. I’ve already started my classes. I’ll be baptized in late summer.”
Aunt Joyce frowned. “Fine. Then surely there’s an appropriate Amish widower looking for someone to cook and clean for him. Someone with a readymade family. It’s best you leave young men like Thomas to women who’ve not yet had a husband.”
Leah glanced down at the grass, not sure how to respond to that. “I... I’d better get back to making pancakes.” She turned away. “We wouldn’t want anyone waiting too long.”
“Just think on what I’ve said, Leah,” Joyce called after her.
All Leah could do was nod and hurry away.
* * *
A few nights later, Thomas stopped by Sara’s after dinner. Leah and Sara were sitting on the porch with Hiram, Sara’s hired man, Ellie and Florence, a young woman from New York State who’d come to Delaware to be married.
Leah got to her feet as Thomas came up the steps. Ever since her conversation with Daniel’s aunt, she’d been feeling out of sorts. Not with Thomas, but with herself, though why, she wasn’t quite sure. “Ellie just made lemonade,” she said. “Would you like some? Or a slice of chocolate pie?”
“The pie sounds good.” Thomas nodded a greeting to Sara and the others. “But it’s such a nice evening. I was hoping you might like to take a walk with me.” He glanced at Sara. “Maybe I could have that slice of pie when we get back.”
“If Hiram doesn’t get to it first.” Sara stroked the gray cat curled in her lap.
Hiram’s face reddened and he ducked his head. “A man can’t help it if you make a good pie. A man can’t help it if he likes good pie.”
“Would you listen to that?” Sara teased. “Hiram just said more than ten words in one stretch. Better keep an eye on the weather, Thomas. It might just snow.”
“Needn’t take on so,” Hiram muttered. “I’m a man of few words, unlike some around here.” He threw a look Thomas’s way.
Thomas chuckled. “True enough, Hiram.” He glanced at Leah. “What do you say? Do you feel like a walk?”
“Sure,” Leah agreed.
Thomas looked back at Sara. “You’re welcome to come along,” he offered. “If you’d like to chaperone.”
Sara shook her head. “I’ve been on these feet too long today.” She wiggled her bare toes. “I’m content to sit right here, enjoy this lemonade and tease Hiram. You two go on and enjoy yourselves. But behave. I’ve got my eye on you, Thomas. You know I do.”
Leah followed Thomas off the porch and into the yard. “Where did you want to walk?”
What Daniel’s aunt had said at the pancake breakfast had troubled her, but she hadn’t mentioned the conversation to Thomas. It seemed disloyal to tell him that Joyce was trying to match her with a Mennonite widower. She wouldn’t want Thomas to think that she’d consider it. But Joyce’s words lingered in the back of her mind and nagged at her until seeds of doubt sprouted. Joyce’s suggestion that Leah was marrying Thomas because she had fallen in love with him was ridiculous. As ridiculous as her insinuation that Leah was stealing a young, good-looking man from younger girls better deserving.
Leah matched her pace with Thomas’s and they walked without speaking through the late shadows of the day out of the farmyard and down the back lane. The weather was perfect with just a slight breeze that kept the mosquitoes away. They passed through a gate and strolled across the back pasture where the mules grazed in the light of the setting sun, and on to the edge of the wood line, where Thomas stopped her with a quick gesture. Leah stood absolutely still and watched in delight as a wild turkey hen strolled out of the trees, followed by a line of babies. The turkey poults were about the size of doves, miniatures of their mother and so cute. They trailed the mother in perfect formation, one after another, staring around with bright eyes and imitating her as she pecked at the ground.
After a few minutes of watching the birds, Thomas abruptly clapped his hands together. At the sound, the turkeys flew up, exploding up in a flurry of feathers and long necks, and then flapped and darted into the woods.
“Ach! Why did you frighten them away?” Leah asked.
“I didn’t want the little ones to become too accustomed to us. If they’re not afraid of people, they’ll end up on someone’s table.” He shrugged. “I warn you, I’m not much of a hunter.”
She smiled at him. “I’m glad. I always felt sorry for the animals that the St. Joes hunted in the jungle. Monkeys, sloths, turtles. I didn’t blame them because I knew they needed meat to feed their families, but it made me sad to see them come home with dead creatures hanging from poles.”
“You have a gentle heart, Leah.”
“Or a foolish one. I grew up on a farm. I know where hamburger and fried chicken comes from. But I still hate to see wild things killed.” She peered into the woods, half-expecting to see the bright flash of parrot feathers or hear the haunting cry of a jaguar. But the jungle was faraway. And so were the graves she’d left there. She turned back into the light. “I’m glad we saw the turkeys,” she said. “I think they’re beautiful.”
“Ya, I think so, too.” He smiled, turning to face her. “You don’t see them often.” He gazed into her eyes. “But that’s not all that’s pretty out here.”
She looked away, her cheeks warm, but she didn’t protest when Thomas took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’ll take care of you, you know,” he said quietly. He raised her hand to his face and pressed it against his chin.
Leah shivered as she felt the prickle of a new growth of beard. Thomas had shaved that morning. She knew because he shaved every morning, but his dark hair and beard grew quickly. Once they were married, it would be easy for him to grow a full beard. She thought it would make him even more handsome.
“I want you to know that,” he continued. “You’ll never go hungry or lack a roof over your head. I’ll work hard, you can count on it.” He unfolded her hand and ran fingertips over her palm. “I love your hands,” he confided. “Such small hands, but so strong and graceful.”
Leah felt herself blush. She pulled her hand free, conscious of the nails broken by gardening and the one thumbnail she’d bitten to the quick. “You’re sweet to say so,” she managed, “but my hands are a mess.” English girls, she knew, often had their nails polished, but she was content when hers were clean and sensibly shaped. She rubbed lotion into her hands every night after her bath, but canning, housework and outside chores often left them callused and reddened.
“I think your hands are beautiful,” Thomas insisted. “And not just your hands. All of you. I always thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever known.”
“Stop.” She looked at the grass at their feet. “You’re embarrassing me. You shouldn’t say such things. You’ll make me vain.”
“Ne, Leah. Not you. I wanted you to know...that I think so. That you’re beautiful. And good. And I want you to know how much I care for you, because...” He lowered his gaze. “Because we haven’t talked about our feelings...for each other.”
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to talk about her feelings for Thomas because she was so confused. Her plan had been a good one: a matchmaker, a marriage of convenience. What she hadn’t planned on was this man she’d known her whole life who’d brought laughter into her heart again.
He leaned down and picked a tiny bouquet of wild violets from the moss at the edge of the trees and pressed it into her hand. “I’ll plant flowers in my garden just for you. Would you like that?”
“I would,” she admitted. “I love flowers.” She raised the violets to her nose and sniffed the sweetness, thinking they should start back.
“You know,” Thomas ventured, looking down at her. “I almost think I should do what Sara told me not to.”
“What’s that?” She looked up at him and, before she realized what he was about to do, before she could react, he leaned close.
His lips brushed hers, resting there for just a few seconds, caressing and tender. For an instant, it felt strange. No man had ever kissed her before, except for Daniel. She wanted to pull away, to tell him no, but the warmth and the sweet touch of his mouth was more than she could resist.
It was Thomas who released her and stepped back. Which was a good thing because she didn’t know if she’d have had the strength to do it. She felt breathless, and her knees were unsteady.
“That was nice.”
She touched her lips with a fingertip and smiled at him. “Too nice,” she murmured, taking a step back and then another. She had known the kissing would come. Certainly in their marriage bed, but it hadn’t occurred to her that she would like it so much. Suddenly the world felt off-kilter and she could barely find her voice. “I think we better go back.”
Thomas chuckled. “Ya, we better.” He took her hand and she let him, and they started back the way they’d come. “But I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”
“Okay,” Leah heard herself say.
“It’s about my baptism classes. My joining the church.”
She looked up at him, trying to move past the kiss. Talking was better. “You said they were going well.”
“They are. I just... I’ve been wondering about something, Leah.”
She stopped to give him her full attention. “What’s that?”
“Well, I wondered if maybe we’re going about this all wrong. Maybe this isn’t what we were meant to do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m talking about both of us being baptized in the Amish church. Maybe...” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “Leah, do you think you should consider staying Mennonite and I should join the Mennonite church?”
She stared at him, thinking she must have misheard. “You want to become Mennonite?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m saying. Do we need to rethink this? If I became Mennonite, we could keep the car or even buy a truck for the deliveries. I assumed you would become Amish to marry me, but what’s to say I shouldn’t join your faith instead of you having to change yours for me?” He gazed earnestly into her eyes. “What do you think, Leah?”