Kitabı oku: «Her New Amish Family», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

Trina felt sorry for Seth. He clearly was embarrassed that Martha had said anything about him going to a matchmaker, especially in front of her. But the boys clamored for Trina’s attention and she turned her focus to them.

“How do we play Noah’s Ark?” Timothy asked.

“We start by reading Noah’s story in the Bible,” Trina told them. They sat on the braided rug in front of the woodstove while Trina read to them from the book of Genesis and Martha listened from her spot in the rocking chair. When Trina finished the passage, she instructed the boys to go into the hall and agree on an animal to imitate. When Trina called them into the room, which they were pretending was an ark, they were to enter as a pair, miming their chosen animal. If Trina guessed what they were, they’d go back into the hall and return as a different pair of animals. The boys loved the game and Trina and Martha were entertained by their imitations.

“You have such a way with kinner,” Martha later complimented her as she and Trina were preparing dinner together.

“Denki.” Trina placed the bread Martha had coached her to make on the cutting board.

“You’ll make a wunderbaar mamm someday soon, too,” Martha said. “Is there a special man in your life in Philadelphia? Someone you’re...how do the Englisch say it? Dating?”

“Jah,” Trina responded absentmindedly. The bread hadn’t risen as high as she anticipated it would and it seemed tough. “I mean, jah, we call it dating. But neh, I’m not dating anyone.”

Martha clicked her tongue. “Those Englisch men can’t be too smart to let such a kind, bright and becoming maedel like you pass them by.”

Trina laughed. “I don’t meet that many Englisch men. Most of my time is spent at school where there are only two male teachers and both are married. I’ve dated a couple of men I knew from church, but those relationships didn’t last. Besides, I’m not really interested in getting married.” She extended the loaf of bread in Martha’s direction. “Does this feel hard to you?”

Martha took it from her. “Perhaps. The rainy weather probably affected the yeast.”

“Oh, neh. I wanted it to turn out!”

“It’s alright, dear. The buwe won’t mind.”

It wasn’t the boys Trina was worried about; it was Seth. For some reason, she wanted to prove to him she wasn’t the microwaving sort of cook he probably took her for. Even if she was.

After they’d eaten dinner, Martha had intended to tell the boys a story while Trina cleaned up in the kitchen, but the older woman had a koppweh, a headache.

“It’s the light,” she explained. “If there’s a white glare like there is today, it bothers my eyes. If I turn on a lamp at night, I see halos. If I’m out in the sun, my eyes hurt then, too.”

“Would you like an aspirin?” Trina offered.

“I’m afraid we’re out. That was one of the items on my grocery list.”

“I might have some at my house. Let me run over and get them.”

“Can we kumme?” the boys pleaded, but Trina reminded them their father said they couldn’t go out in the rain, so she dashed home by herself.

She quickly searched her toiletry bag, but she hadn’t any bottles of aspirin in it. There was, however, a pair of sunglasses. Maybe they would help. Trina slipped them into her pocket and bounded back to Seth and Martha’s house.

“Oh, that does feel better, dear. Denki,” Martha said after she’d put the lenses on over her own glasses.

“Groossmammi, you look voll schpass.” Of course Tanner would think she looked very funny; he’d probably never seen mirrored lenses before.

“I can see me in your eyes,” Timothy declared. He made a funny face in front of Martha and studied his reflection.

“Buwe, I’d like you to help me in the kitchen. Tanner, you may sweep while Timothy brings the dirty plates to the sink,” Trina instructed. Then she asked Martha if she could get her anything else, but Martha said she was just going to sit there and take a quick catnap.

“Katze don’t nap sitting up. They curl around like this.” Timothy fell to the floor to demonstrate. Chuckling, Trina beckoned him to his feet again.

“Daed says we can’t have katze in the house,” Tanner explained as he followed Trina and Timothy. “Groossmammi’s ’lergic. That means she sneezes when she touches katz fur.”

Trina suddenly understood their fascination with pretending to be animals. “Do you know what makes me sneeze? It starts with the letter S.” She emphasized the S sound.

“Snakes?”

“Skunks?”

“Neh. Soap!” Trina exclaimed as she scooped a handful of dish soap bubbles over the boys’ heads and pretended to sneeze, blowing the bubbles everywhere. Timothy and Tanner whooped and tried to catch them. Despite their exuberance, it was time for their nap, so when they finished cleaning the kitchen, Trina tucked them into their beds and returned to the parlor where Martha was rummaging through a bag of fabric.

“I thought you were going to rest,” Trina commented.

“I did. Now let’s get you started on making a new skirt.”

Martha instructed Trina how to take her measurements and began guiding her through creating a pattern. Trina made so many erasures she figured that even though Martha’s vision was impaired the older woman could do a better job of it.

“It’s alright. Take your time,” Martha said the fourth time Trina botched her penciling. As Trina erased the markings, Martha hummed, but it wasn’t a hymn from the Ausbund.

“My mamm taught me that one,” Trina said and sang a few lines. “She usually hummed or sang while she was sewing. Did she learn to do that from you?”

Martha smiled. “More likely, I learned to do that from her. Sometimes when Patience used to kumme over, we’d sit here sewing together. If we weren’t talking, she was always humming or singing. At the time, my husband, Jacob, thought it was because she was so happy.”

Trina stopped erasing. “But you knew that wasn’t the reason,” she said quietly, knowing the answer.

“Jah, I knew it wasn’t the reason.” Martha nodded. “I knew it was because she couldn’t stand the silence in her house. Singing or humming was her way of keeping herself company.”

A fat tear plopped onto the paper Trina was bending over. She was simultaneously relieved her mother had had someone like Martha in her life who understood her so well, yet saddened to be reminded of her mother’s loneliness as a child. She might have started crying in earnest if Timothy and Tanner hadn’t clomped into the room at just that moment.

Martha decided to lie down while Trina accompanied the boys to the basement. Largely empty, the room served as an ideal place for them to ride their bicycles—with training wheels attached—during inclement weather, but Trina liked to be present to make sure they didn’t pedal too fast, since the floor was cement and she didn’t want them getting hurt.

Much to Trina’s relief, it was soon time to make supper. Seth had been right; after a full day of rain, she did feel cooped up. Also, although she’d never especially liked the constant noise and bustle of the city, she’d become accustomed to it, so it seemed strange not to see any people other than the Helmuth family for an entire week. Itching to get out and go shopping, she was eager for Seth to return. Admittedly, she was also curious about his trip to the matchmaker, but for his sake Trina hoped Martha wouldn’t ask him about it during supper.

* * *

Seth’s trip to see the matchmaker paid off quicker than he expected. Belinda suggested he consider courting Fannie Jantzi, a widow who lived just over the Elmsville town line. The matchmaker said Fannie was a pet project of hers and Seth didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one. But when Belinda told him Fannie could be available the next day, Seth agreed to pick her up at a nearby phone shanty after their separate church services ended. Feeling hopeful, he hurried home to eat supper with Martha, Trina and the boys.

After taking a bite of bread, Seth set it aside on his plate. He had made leather purses that were probably easier to chew. Trina must have baked it. He tried to be discreet, but Tanner noticed he wasn’t eating his slice.

“Daed, you have to tear into the bread with your teeth like this,” he advised, showing what he meant. “Pretend you’re a lion and it’s carrion.”

“That’s enough, Tanner,” Seth scolded, disconcerted. Trina appeared drained tonight as it was; he hoped she wasn’t offended by Tanner’s remark but he couldn’t tell because she dipped her chin toward her chest. Then he noticed her shoulders shaking a little. Was she crying over such a small thing? But when she glanced up and swallowed a drink of water, he could see she was fighting laughter. He had to give it to her; she was awfully good-natured.

“Look, Daed, you can see two of yourselves in Groossmammi’s eyes,” Timothy pointed out, waving to his reflection in Martha’s glasses.

“Put your hand down and eat your vegetation.” Seth had meant to say vegetables but he subconsciously adopted Trina’s word choice. He’d been thinking about how he’d have to pick up a pair of less conspicuous sunglasses for Martha tonight. He was embarrassed he hadn’t thought of buying her a pair earlier, but she’d never complained about the lighting before. Or was it that he’d never thought to ask? Once again, he was thankful for Trina’s attentiveness to his family.

After they ate, Martha and Trina quickly cleared the table and washed the dishes while Seth and the boys hitched the horse and brought the buggy up the lane.

“I’ll sit in the back with the buwe and Trina can sit up front with you,” Martha said.

Inwardly Seth groaned. It would be difficult to conduct a conversation between the front and back seats, and he didn’t know what to converse with Trina about on his own. He hoped the boys would call out their many questions, but instead, Martha engaged Timothy and Tanner in a spirited conversation about sheep shearing that Seth could barely hear from his seat in front.

“This is such fun!” Trina trilled, spreading the blanket Seth had given her over her lap.

Seth chuckled. “It’s a mode of transportation, not a carnival ride.” Uh-oh, did that sound rude? He actually thought her delight was charming, so he quickly added, “It’s probably a big change from driving a car around Philadelphia.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Trina said breezily. “I don’t own a car.”

“Then how do you get around? Bus? Train?”

“Sometimes, but mostly I walk. Or ride a bike.”

“In Philadelphia?”

“It’s a city, not the moon,” she said, imitating his tone when he remarked about the buggy not being a carnival ride. Then she teased, “Englischers have feet, too, you know.”

Seth chortled. “Jah, but do Englischers eat carrion for supper?”

Trina giggled. “I promise I didn’t teach them that. I don’t know where they learned it.”

“From me.” When Trina twisted sideways and looked at him in surprise, Seth added, “We see a lot of things when we’re out walking in the countryside. Not all of it is pleasant, but it’s a fact of life.”

“The same might be said for walking in the city,” Trina mumbled. There was a hint of sadness to her dulcet voice.

“Staying in Willow Creek must be a big adjustment for you.”

“In some ways, jah. But my mamm told me so much about it when I was growing up it almost seems like I’ve been here before.”

Now there was no mistaking her melancholy tone. “I’m sorry about your mamm,” he said. “You may know this already, but the first year is the most difficult. The grief never goes away completely, but after a year, it changes. And with more time, it will change again. At least, that’s how it was for me after I lost my Eleanor.”

Ordinarily Seth wouldn’t share such an intimate sentiment with an Englisch woman—or an Amish woman, for that matter. But Trina’s voice carried such a note of fragility, he found himself wanting to comfort her.

“I do take comfort in knowing my mamm is with the Lord, but sometimes I’m unbearably lonely without her.”

That was exactly how Seth felt. “Jah, if there was any consolation for me about Timothy and Tanner, it was that they never knew their mamm, so they didn’t miss her the way I did. Even so, it’s been hard on them not to have a mamm in their life.”

“Oh, I see,” Trina spoke quietly, presumably so the boys and Martha wouldn’t hear her. “So that’s why you visited the matchmaker today—you’re ready to court again?”

Seth didn’t feel comfortable continuing this conversation, but when he didn’t respond, Trina assured him, “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’ve had friends who’ve tried online dating services and—”

“Ha!” Seth sputtered. “A matchmaker is nothing like an online dating service.”

“How do you know?” Trina challenged. “Have you ever tried an online dating service?”

“Have you ever tried an Amish matchmaker?”

“Neh, but my mamm told me enough about them for me to know they’re not so different from online dating services, especially from dating services that screen people to find out what their values, interests and hopes are. How is that so different from going to a matchmaker?”

“The very fact you call it dating shows the difference,” Seth argued. “Courtships among the Amish are primarily intended to see if a couple is compatible for marriage. Englischers date for social entertainment.”

“That’s true for some Englischers, but not everyone dates casually. Some are very selective and when they enter a romantic relationship, it’s with the hope of eventually marrying.”

Seth didn’t know how the conversation had jumped from talking about buggy rides to courtships and marriage—topics he would have been reluctant to discuss with his closest Amish friends, much less with an Englischer he barely knew. But since she’d been so bold as to ask him about going to the matchmaker, he figured he could venture an inquiry, too. “Don’t tell me, you’re the kind of person who only dates with the intention of marrying?”

“Neh,” Trina answered, the verve suddenly gone from her voice. “But I don’t date for fun, either. I mean, there was someone I thought I’d marry, but...”

“But the dating service made a bad match?” Seth couldn’t resist needling her a final time.

“I didn’t meet him through a dating service.” Trina seemed a million miles away when she said, “But you’re right, he wasn’t a gut match. He broke up with me when my mamm became ill. He said he couldn’t compete with her for my time and affection.”

Seth regretted bringing up such a painful subject. What kind of man wouldn’t support the woman he loved when her mother had cancer? “What a self-centered dummkopf,” he said aloud, answering his own question.

“It’s better I found out sooner rather than later.” Trina sounded genuinely sincere when she added, “But I hope things turn out well for you.”

Trina was quiet the rest of the way to Highland Springs and Seth felt terrible for spoiling what had started out as such a fun excursion for her. Once they arrived at the store, he and Martha took Timothy and Tanner with them, despite the boys’ expressed preference for accompanying Trina. Seth figured she needed time to collect her items in peace, and besides, he didn’t want to mar her evening further by making any more cloddish remarks.

* * *

Trina was relieved when Sunday came; it meant she’d made it through one week in Willow Creek. Only a little more than eight weeks to go until May first. She rose early to attend the nearest Englisch church, which, according to the map on her phone, was two and a half miles away. Since she didn’t have a car and couldn’t afford to hire a taxi to come from Lancaster, she had to walk. On the way, she hummed as she thought about Seth, Martha and the boys traveling to the worship services hosted this week by an Amish family, the Planks.

The sky was overcast with white clouds and Trina hoped the light wasn’t bothering Martha’s eyes. Seth had bought his grandmother a new pair of sunglasses the evening before, but they didn’t fit over Martha’s regular glasses as well as the pair she’d borrowed from Trina. When Trina told Martha she should consider going to an eye doctor and getting prescription sunglasses, Seth said he doubted that was necessary and Martha seemed to agree. Trina was puzzled by this; they didn’t seem excessively frugal, but she supposed they might have considered the expense to be a waste.

Because it was chillier than Trina expected and she hadn’t worn a hat, halfway to church she stopped and let her hair down from its ponytail so it would provide a natural covering for her ears. Fortunately there was no wind as she trod up and down the hilly roads of Willow Creek, but by the time she arrived at the little church and ducked into the women’s room, her nose and cheeks were bright pink, and she felt famished from hiking in the cold. She ran her hands under warm water and then joined the small but friendly congregation. The pastor’s sermon on God’s faithfulness was comforting to her and she especially loved worshipping through song. She hadn’t realized until today how long it had been since she was able to sing in church; ever since her mother died, she was afraid to lift up her voice, in fear she’d begin crying in public. But today she sang as loudly and cheerfully as anyone.

After the service, the elderly couple sitting next to Trina turned to introduce themselves to her as Sherman and Mabel Brown. They were delighted to learn she was new in town and they quickly invited her to the potluck dinner being held in the basement of the building. Trina’s stomach rumbled as she accepted their offer.

She was eating her second plate of spaghetti and meatballs when a young man approached the table where Sherman and Mabel had introduced her to another couple with two children. The man took a seat next to Trina. Dark-haired and soft-spoken, Ethan Gray told her he was the local pediatrician. Like Trina, he’d only arrived in Willow Creek recently. After dessert—Trina had both a cupcake and a brownie—Ethan offered to give her a ride home, but Trina declined. Warm and invigorated again, she wanted to see Wheeler’s Bridge, which was located not too far from Main Street. Trina’s mother had told her that when she went grocery shopping in town as a girl, instead of walking on the roads she always followed the creek behind their house all the way to the bridge. She said the route took her through the thick woods and beautiful Amish farmland, so Trina was eager to journey where her mother had once found beauty.

Following the directions on her phone’s GPS, Trina had been walking for almost half an hour when it began drizzling. Within minutes, she felt the prickle of sleet against her scalp and she dashed to take cover beneath a willow tree in the middle of a field. Since the tree had no foliage yet, it provided little shelter and Trina’s hair became ropy and wet as she consulted her phone to figure out a shortcut home. She concluded if she cut across the field she was standing in and took a short jaunt through a wooded area, she’d wind up on a street that ran parallel to Main Street. Since it was the Sabbath, the Amish shops were closed, but she hoped there would be a convenience store or a coffee shop she could stop in at to dry off and get a hot chocolate.

But she must have gotten confused in the woods because when she finally emerged some forty minutes later, she recognized the fence as being the same one that bordered the east end of the field where she first began. Or was it? There were so many fences and farms in Willow Creek it was difficult to distinguish one from another. And since the trees and hills hadn’t yet begun to show signs of spring, it wasn’t even as if the walk had been especially scenic. Worst of all, by now it was raining so hard it was soaking right through her jacket. Trina had no choice but to use her phone to navigate along the roads instead of taking a shortcut.

By that time, she’d been walking for over an hour, her toes were numb and she wished she’d accepted a ride from Ethan. She was half tempted to flag down a passing car, except that no cars passed her. She had just trudged up a long, steep hill when her phone rang. It had been so long since she’d received a phone call, she jerked when it vibrated in her pocket.

“Hello?” she answered, pushing a string of wet hair from her eyes. Droplets rolled off her eyebrows and she squinted against the rain.