The beginning, p.10
The Beginning, page 10
This could be the last time Obie and I talk alone like this, she thought, determined now to enjoy their last few leisurely moments together, the breeze on her face, the sun’s rays dappling the water.
As they floated along beneath the willows, she wanted so badly to ask what he’d started to say on her birthday, which seemed ever so long ago now. She even opened her mouth to speak but caught herself, believing that if it was still important, he would bring it up on his own.
As they talked about his plans in Sugar Valley, it became obvious that Obie wasn’t going to inquire about Susie’s own plans, or Del Petersheim. It seemed a little strange, since before now, they had always been comfortable talking about the different people each of them had gone out with from time to time. But she kept mum on that and let Obie row the boat.
If the auburn-haired woman had been Amish or Mennonite, Britta might not have given her a second look. But the woman at Saturday market was quite obviously an Englischer and even gave Britta a sweet smile as she caught her eye.
Britta hoped Susie and Mamma, there with her at their usual market stand, hadn’t noticed. It was all Britta could do to stay put there and merely observe the woman.
What if she’s my birth mother, just a few yards away? she thought, her breath coming in little spurts. What would she think if I went over to her and asked some questions?
“Britta,” Susie said, “can you get several more packages of goat cheese from the cooler?”
Jolted out of her thoughts, Britta nodded and leaned down beneath the table to get what Susie needed. More than likely, she was completely wrong about the woman. Does my first mother ever think of me? Britta wondered. Does she ever want to find me and know me now that I’m almost a teenager? What if she is actually fancy?
When Britta rose and gave Susie the goat cheese, Britta could see the woman walking with two young boys, one with hair a similar color to Britta’s own. Oh, she felt frozen in place, yet she wanted with all of her heart to scurry after her and talk to her.
If I could just hear her voice, she thought, maybe I’d know.
Britta smiled at the next customer, who had a question about the ingredients for the peanut butter spread. All the same, she caught herself glancing repeatedly toward the woman and boys until they were out of sight.
Obie had been gone to Sugar Valley for a little more than a week when Susie hurried out to the road to retrieve the mail. Susie sorted through the letters and saw two addressed to her. “For goodness’ sake,” she said, surprised at how happy she was to see Obie’s handwriting. And a letter from Del, too, of all things.
She scurried up the driveway and took her mother’s mail into the kitchen, where Mamma was measuring flour to make dumplings. Then Susie walked back to the shop, presently empty of customers. In the stillness of the cozy spot, she opened Del’s envelope and discovered a note asking her out for supper this Saturday. I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Susie, he’d written.
Smiling, she decided to send her reply in tomorrow’s mail, expecting he would get it in plenty of time. Del hadn’t mentioned double-dating this outing, so she assumed they’d have more time to talk and get to know each other. Either way, she was pleased to hear from him.
Reaching next for Obie’s letter, she paused before opening it, feeling a bit giddy since he’d never written to her before, other than the birthday and Christmas cards he’d given her through the years.
Slowly, she opened the envelope and began to read.
Dear Susie,
How are you? How is your Mamma doing, and Britta, too?
It’s taken me a whole week to get settled here and into my new routine—Onkel Leon has plenty for me to do and learn, and I’m eager to master all of it. But I find myself wondering how you are and wanting to sit down and write.
You should know that your encouragement about this job helped me make the decision to take it, and I’m grateful, Susie. You’ve been a trusted friend to me over the years.
That’s why it pleases me to see you happy with Delmar Petersheim—he’s not like the other fellows you’ve gone out with. Del is obviously well-suited and a God-fearing man, so once you start seriously courting, let me know, so I don’t interfere with my letters.
Know that I’ll keep you in my prayers, just as you’ve done for me.
Your friend,
Obie Yoder
Susie folded the letter and slipped it into her dress pocket, glad to hear from him, but also thinking that, as accommodating as he sounded about Del, Obie may as well have signed off Your brother.
She rose and looked out the window at the sky scattered with cottony clouds. At least he wants to keep in touch, she thought, her heart still tender toward him.
A car pulled up just then, and she made her way back to the counter, where she took her spot on the wooden stool, thinking how odd it was to receive Obie’s letter on the exact same day as Del’s supper invitation.
CHAPTER
15
Mamma’s chicken and dumplings supper was so delicious that evening that both Susie and Britta had seconds. Yet as the three of them ate together, Susie noticed how droopy and pale her mother looked, though she was talkative enough.
“You certainly seem cheerful tonight, Susie,” Mamma said, observing her.
“Do I?”
Britta nodded. “Jah, and right after the mail came.” Britta exchanged glances with their mother.
“Goodness, just now you two remind me of certain cousins.” Susie looked out the window, not sure she wanted to tell them about the letters quite yet. They’d probably make a bigger deal of it than necessary.
Mamma took a sip of her warm tea, not saying more.
“Which reminds me, I might take the pony cart over to see Cousin Verena after dishes are done,” Susie told them. “If that’s okay with you, Mamma.”
Britta eyed Susie. “I’d be glad to stay here with Mamma.”
“Don’t you worry over me. A little rest is all I need.” Mamma sipped more tea, then ran the back of her hand across her brow.
“Ach, you should’ve let us make supper,” Susie said, “’cept that no one makes better dumplings.”
“Say, that’s another idea: We could sell ready-made dinners at the shop,” Britta said. She looked at them as if eager for a response.
“Mamma’s a gut cook, for certain, but that’s too much extra work,” Susie pointed out.
“Those syrupy popcorn balls of yours were sure a wunnerbaar idea, though—they’re nearly as popular as the peanut butter spread,” Mamma said. “People have even stopped by just for those and ended up buyin’ other things.”
“We’re doin’ all right with the money from my cross-stitch sales and Britta’s babysitting money from the Ebersols—and, of course, the check Allen sends each month,” Susie mentioned, her gaze on her mother.
“The Lord has provided.” Mamma reached again for the chamomile tea she always drank with raw honey. “He’s met our every need.”
Britta rose and carried the leftovers to the counter while Mamma stayed at the table with her tea.
Susie reached over to put her hand on her mother’s. “I think you might need to take a break from cookin’ for a day or two.”
Mamma’s eyebrows rose. “I just wanted to surprise yous.”
Susie squeezed her hand. “Denki.”
Britta returned to clear the rest of the table. “One of your best meals, Mamma,” she said, and Susie agreed.
“You don’t have to help clean up the dishes, Susie,” Britta told her. “Go an’ have your visit with Cousin Verena.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Susie promised.
“Just glad to see ya so happy,” Britta replied mischievously.
Now Mamma was studying Susie again but good.
“I shouldn’t be gone long,” Susie said as she rose from the table, eager to be heading out.
“Take your time, dear.” Mamma gave her a knowing look.
There’s no hiding anything from Mamma, thought Susie.
“Ain’t one bit surprised to hear it,” Cousin Verena said when Susie told her about Obie’s letter as they sat on the front porch swing.
“Well, I’d actually wondered if he’d remember to write once he left.”
“After all the years you’ve known each other?” Verena shook her head. “Nee, Obie’s a loyal friend.”
“Del Petersheim wrote, too, inviting me out for supper,” Susie mentioned.
Verena nodded. “Interesting.”
Susie agreed and changed the subject. “Say, I never told ya, but Obie asked me earlier this spring what I thought ’bout him workin’ in Sugar Valley,” Susie said. “He really wanted my opinion.”
Verena stopped the swing. “What’d ya say?”
Susie decided to tell her everything, including that she’d encouraged Obie to go. “It’s the kind of job he’s always hoped for—not many chances like that come along. And I figured he might as well get on with his life, ya know. I mean, since he views me as a kind of sister.”
“Ach, ya should’ve told me,” Verena said.
“It hasn’t been easy to think ’bout, let alone share,” Susie said. “You understand, jah?”
Verena pushed her foot against the floor and got the swing moving again. “Oh, believe me, I do. Relationships can be rough goin’.”
“Obie knew at the time that I’d gone out with Del. He saw me with him at the farm auction back in March.”
“Well then, I’d say the fact Obie wrote is a gut sign.”
Susie pondered that. “I was so happy to hear from him.”
Verena bobbed her head and smiled. “Will ya write back?”
“What do ya think?” Susie laughed softly.
Just then, Cousin Marnie poked her head out the front door. “Are yous conspiring again?” She was grinning.
“When was the last time we did that?” Verena said, adjusting her blue bandanna over her hair bun.
“You’ve forgotten?” Marnie pretended to be shocked.
“Let’s see . . . was it a few years ago, when we told the teacher that you’d be a fine scholar to consider bein’ a teacher’s helper?” Verena asked. “Or maybe even a teacher yourself?”
Marnie crept outside barefoot and took a seat on one of the natural wicker chairs. “Jah, an’ you can see how that turned out.” She chuckled.
“Well, you can’t say we didn’t try,” Susie said. “You’d be a wunnerbaar-gut teacher.”
Marnie ducked her head. “The school board had other ideas,” she said, “which is okay with me.”
They sat quietly, watching the color fade from the sky. After a moment or two, Verena mentioned how she and Marnie used to catch baby caterpillars and let them crawl on each other’s arms. “Those were the carefree days of childhood,” she said, “before the drama of courting age came along.” She sighed.
“So glum! Should I be worried, sister?” Marnie asked.
Verena regarded her. “About Jerome?”
Marnie nodded. “He’s very good-lookin’.”
Verena glanced at Susie, then at Marnie. “Well, not every relationship ends in heartache.”
“I sure hope not,” Marnie said.
Susie realized that Mamma and Britta would be having Bible reading and prayer soon, and her cousins here would be, too, with their family. “Well, I should be headin’ home,” she said, rising from the swing. “It’s been real nice seein’ yous again.”
Verena rose, too, and went with her out to the pony and cart. She reached to give Susie a hug. “Careful going home.”
Susie smiled and untied the pony from the hitching post. “Kumme over an’ see us sometime,” she said, waving.
Once home, Susie entered the front room, where Mamma held the Good Book in her lap. “I didn’t want to miss our time together,” she said, sitting next to Britta on the small settee.
“Glad you’re home,” Mamma said, then began to read slowly, but with expression, from Psalm 103. “‘Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits. . . .’”
Susie listened, as always moved by the beauty and rhythm of King David’s words.
When Mamma read verse twelve, about one’s transgressions being removed as far as the east was from the west, Susie felt grateful.
Before kneeling for prayer, Mamma brought up the importance of forgiving each other at the close of the day, before bedtime. “When we open our hearts to each other and to God through forgiveness, our own mistakes are forgiven. It isn’t easy—it can be very difficult, in fact—but you’ll never regret forgiving someone.”
Dear Mamma often shared her thoughts on the verses she read. She was devoted to her faith and believed, like Dat, that she must give an account before God of the way she brought up her family.
Lying in bed, hours later, Susie thought again of Obie’s letter tucked away in her small wooden chest, next to the white pinecone he’d given her. Would he be surprised to know I kept that little Christmas present? she wondered.
And she prayed that, if it was His will, God would change her heart away from Obie and toward Del.
CHAPTER
16
On the morning of Britta’s birthday, she knelt beside her bed before dressing and prayed for wisdom about how to ask Mamma the questions she’d long held privately in her heart. She’s the dearest mother, O Lord, prayed Britta. I really don’t want to cause her pain. . . .
Later, while helping Susie make buttermilk waffles and sausage patties, Britta couldn’t decide if she should wait to talk to Mamma before or after Cousins Verena and Marnie came over for their planned picnic and swim. But with Hazel dropping by later, there wasn’t a lot of time.
Around midmorning, Aendi Emmalyn stopped in to wish Britta a happy birthday with a tin of fresh chocolate chip cookies and a pretty card. Later, Aendi Lettie, Mamma’s eldest sister, and her daughter Naomi Flaud dropped by with a card and new book from the two of them.
Then and there, Britta decided she’d have to put off seeking out Mamma with her questions, not wanting to spoil the day for so many loved ones.
Britta rose early again the next morning, an off-Sunday from Preaching, to read from Rules of a Godly Life, then hurried to get ready and out to milk the goats, just like every other day of the week. Britta loved caring for the lively, playful animals, which they had purchased some years ago when Mamma had switched from cow’s milk to goat’s, hoping it might help with her allergies.
When that chore was done, Britta noticed Mamma sitting on the back porch, two of the cats curled up near her bare feet. Seeing that Susie wasn’t anywhere nearby, Britta carried the bucket of goat’s milk into the kitchen. There, she washed her hands thoroughly and poured the delicious milk into clean bottles before placing them in the fridge. Then she rushed back outdoors to talk to Mamma.
“If ya have a moment, I was hopin’ I could ask ya something,” she said as she sat down in the chair next to Mamma.
“It’s so peaceful out, ain’t?” Mamma said, smiling at her. “What’s on your mind, dear?”
Britta hoped she was doing the right thing. “I don’t want ya to think poorly of me,” she began. “But now that I’m a teenager, I thought it might be okay to ask you some things.”
Mamma folded her hands in her lap, a little wrinkle forming between her eyebrows as she frowned slightly, as if puzzled. “All right.”
Britta took a deep breath and forged ahead. “First of all, how did I get my name? I mean, I can tell Britta’s not Amish, since nobody else has my name.”
Mamma visibly stiffened. “Well, that was the name you were given by your Englischer mother.”
Britta’s heart beat faster. “So I wasn’t born Amish, then?”
Mamma shook her head.
Britta nodded, relieved to have this confirmed. “But didn’t you want to name me?” She shifted a little in her chair. “I mean, since you’re Plain.”
Mamma smiled now. “Well, I was only your foster Mamma at first, so I never gave it a second thought, really. I was just so happy to have you in my arms.”
Britta pondered that; then another question bubbled up. “I must’ve been pretty small when you got me,” she said.
“Just a wee infant.” Mamma held out her hands to show how small.
“How old was I?”
“Ten days new.”
Britta considered other questions but felt she should stop asking. She couldn’t really tell by the way Mamma sat so straight in her rocking chair, not moving, if she welcomed more questions. It didn’t seem like Mamma to be so still, as if she was on edge, and Britta felt worse than when she’d decided to forge ahead like this. “Sorry if I’m askin’ too much.”
Mamma turned to look at her again. “I understand your curiosity, dear. Honest, I do.” She gave her a smile.
Britta simply said, “Denki.”
Mamma must have heard the uncertainty in her voice, because she added, “You should also know that your birth mother was unable to bear the responsibility of takin’ care of a child.” Mamma sighed. “I’ve always planned to tell ya the story of your adoption once you’re eighteen.”
Five more years is a long wait, Britta thought miserably. Mamma’s few answers had made her feel even more unsettled about her past.
“Please try and be patient, Britta,” Mamma said. “And . . . remember how glad I am that you’re my girl.”
“Jah,” she murmured, rising to walk over to the screen door, where she waited in case Mamma had more to say. But when the rocking chair began to move forward and back again, Britta opened the door and stepped inside.
Susie felt tired after supper but didn’t let on when Britta asked her to go for a walk. “Okay,” she said, matching her sister’s brisk pace when they headed down the driveway. “You choose the direction.”
