The Beginning, page 9
The sounds of Hickory Hollow this time of year were muted—no chainsaws were cutting logs in the distance, and few horse and buggies were out. Presently, the early evening sun cast long shadows through the trees lining the pasture not far from the road where Susie and Britta drove along. A flock of red-winged blackbirds dotted the sky, and Susie could hear the distinct call of the males.
“What was Eli’s favorite thing to do?” Britta asked.
“Well, fishin’ and goin’ turkey hunting with Dat—they did that at least a couple of times together.”
“Deer hunting, too?”
“Nee, Dat usually went with Allen to get his deer, but I think Eli would’ve grown up to be a gut shot.”
“How do ya know?”
“He had a gut aim at corner ball during school recess.” Susie laughed quietly. “Eli also liked to take me in the pony cart when Mamma asked him to go to the General Store to get odds and ends. She’d give him a list and stick the money in a zipped leather holder, and off we’d go.”
“You made some happy memories together, ain’t so?”
Susie nodded. “For sure and for certain. Just like you and me.”
As they arrived at the destination, Susie directed Atta-Girl toward the side of the narrow road, opposite the location of the accident, and came to a halt. Without speaking, she stepped down from the carriage and went around to the back, opening it to remove the rake and broom.
While Britta was climbing from the carriage, Susie crossed the road and began to rake a long patch of grass, including the sloped area beside the road where wild flowers would soon grow.
Britta wandered over, surprise on her pretty face. “Did ya see the bundle of flowers over yonder?” she asked, pointing.
“They show up here every year in the exact same spot.”
Britta walked over and leaned down to look at the bouquet but didn’t touch it. “They look fresh . . . smell nice. Must be handpicked, too,” she said, reaching for the broom propped against the horse fence.
“Ach, you don’t have to sweep,” Susie said. “That’s my job.” My responsibility . . .
Britta left the broom where it was. “Who leaves the flowers, do ya think?”
Susie had always found their appearance peculiar, since placing flowers as a memento like that wasn’t really something the People did. “I don’t know.”
“Mamma didn’t come earlier today, did she?”
“She rarely comes on the actual day, and I’ve never seen her bring flowers.” Susie stopped raking and paused to look at the pretty pink bleeding hearts, purple creeping myrtle, and white daffodils held together by the soft blue ribbon, its ends tied in a neat bow. “Mamma doesn’t even put flowers on Dat’s and Eli’s graves that I know of.”
Britta looked even more melancholy now. “Do ya remember what happened that day?” she asked timidly.
Susie inhaled sharply. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell all to Obie. “The driver must’ve lost control . . . was goin’ too fast in the rain, then swerved . . .” She couldn’t say more. Her stomach was a ball of knots.
“The English do drive fast.” Britta tilted her head, arms folded around her middle. “To tell the truth, I don’t even like travelin’ in the passenger vans.”
Susie nodded but stayed quiet.
“Hazel said her Mamma thinks the driver was prob’ly drunk,” Britta added. “But that could be gossip.”
“A hit an’ run is what it was.”
“A what?”
Feeling uneasy, Susie said, “The driver kept goin’ . . . didn’t stop, after hittin’ Eli.”
“Maybe the driver didn’t know anyone’d been hit,” Britta said. “Could that be?”
Susie would spare her the horror and not reveal that she’d screamed, over and over . . . nor speak of the low, hollow sort of cry Eli had made as the car struck him and he fell to the asphalt. The last sound he made. Oh, how she wanted to end this conversation.
Tears welled up in Susie’s eyes as Britta said, “I hope Eli didn’t suffer long.”
Susie found her voice again. “Mercifully, he went straight to Jesus.” She put down the rake, walked over to Britta, and stood next to her. “Honestly, talking ’bout this today maybe ain’t such a gut idea,” she admitted at last, then gently slipped her arm around her sister.
“I’m sorry.” Britta leaned against her. “Comin’ here’s awful hard. No wonder Mamma doesn’t want to do it very often.”
“Jah, who can blame her?” Susie said quietly.
CHAPTER
13
A full week swept by, and while the farmers all over Lancaster County were planting field corn for October harvest, Susie planted even more vegetables and completed two additional cross-stitched family trees, accepting orders for several more. She also helped Britta make plenty of popcorn balls.
Looking back, Susie could see that she was purposely filling up her hours, trying to keep from brooding on Obie’s decision to work for his uncle, so far away.
The first Saturday market day in May, while Susie waited with Britta and their mother for their van to arrive, Britta unexpectedly mentioned the wild flower bouquet she and Susie had seen at the spot where Eli had died.
“It was leanin’ against the white horse fence,” Britta told Mamma. “Real perty.”
Nodding, Mamma seemed unsurprised. “Ella Mae and I have both noticed it over the years, too.”
Susie wondered why Britta brought this up to Mamma when Britta had already discussed it with Susie. Was she trying to get Mamma to talk about the accident?
“From what I’ve heard, there used to be lots of flowers and cards or notes . . . even a little white cross,” Britta said. She paused, and Susie wondered what Mamma was thinking about all this. “But now it’s just this one bouquet,” Britta continued. “It’s sweet, isn’t it, that someone besides us still remembers what happened there?”
“Truly it is,” Mamma said softly.
“But who?” Britta asked.
Susie shrugged. “S’pose it could be any number of folk.” She wondered who Britta had been talking to, to know that there had been other flowers and notes and cards and such years ago.
At that moment, Mamma waved at the van coming down the road. “Lookee there, our driver’s right on time,” she said quickly.
Mamma seems uncomfortable with this talk, Susie thought, wishing Britta hadn’t mentioned the bundle of flowers.
Susie stood outside with Britta after the mid-May Preaching service, waiting for the youth to be called indoors for the fellowship meal. She couldn’t help noticing Mamma over talking with Ella Mae near a terraced bed of pink, white, and rose-hued peonies, both of them looking quite solemn. Ella Mae was nodding her head thoughtfully, and Mamma leaned closer, as if to whisper. The scene reminded Susie again of that peculiar time at market when she’d clearly interrupted a private exchange between the women. Seeing them like that now, she sometimes wished she was privy to their shared secrets.
Susie sat on the back porch that afternoon, waiting for Britta to finish the late-afternoon goat milking. Over yonder, she could see the Ebersols’ road horses standing head to tail in the southwest corner of the meadow. Rarely one to just sit and twiddle her thumbs, even on the Lord’s Day, Susie enjoyed the cool breeze, knowing summer weather was just around the corner.
To the west, the neighbors’ dairy cows were drifting into the deep pasture, where they would likely spend the night under the stars and waxing crescent moon. Susie recalled the warm summer night, five years ago, when Mamma had let her pitch a tent in the backyard. Susie and Britta and two of her cats had slept happily beneath a full moon.
Smiling at the memory, she recalled telling stories to Britta—they’d both been too excited to close their eyes and go to sleep. Mamma’s own mother, Susannah Fisher, gone to Jesus, had been the subject of one of those stories, as had one particular tree in Mammi Fisher’s yard when she had been a wee girl. Without her parents’ knowledge, Susannah would take her book and climb high into the branches after chores were done. One evening after supper, though, she had fallen asleep up there, worrying her parents something awful as they searched the house and the property for their missing girl.
When Susannah awakened to sharp calls from her father, she realized what she’d done and looked down through the darkness and gasped, realizing she could easily have fallen to her death. Instead, she scrambled down, limb over limb, until she fell into her father’s arms, pleading tearfully for forgiveness.
Susie never forgot how Britta had begged to know if Mammi had learned her lesson, a quaver in Britta’s small voice. “Mammi was grateful her Dat had come lookin’ for her,” Susie had reassured Britta. “It was a blessing everything turned out all right.”
I haven’t thought of that night in ages, Susie thought as she saw her sister come across the yard toward her.
By taking a little time every day following daily chores, Susie finally managed to complete the Petersheim family tree. She went to the stable to call Del that following Friday to let him know. Sounding pleased and upbeat, he said he would pick it up next Tuesday. “And if it’s ready, I can also sample that special rhubarb jam,” he teased.
“Oh, that won’t be for another week yet,” she told him, amused by his enthusiasm.
“Okay, then this time I’ll just come by for your handiwork,” he said, and Susie wondered if he might stick around and talk awhile.
At noon, Cousins Verena and Marnie brought over a generous picnic of pulled pork sandwiches, homemade potato salad, and fruit cup, just as they’d planned a few days ago. Britta was able to join the other three cousins, since school was out for the summer. It was time now for children to help their parents with the fieldwork and planting going on all over Hickory Hollow. The girls sat and ate together on an old blanket near the potting shed while Mamma had a meal with Ella Mae.
Marnie suggested they all go swimming in the pond in a few weeks to celebrate Britta’s thirteenth birthday on July second.
“I’d like that,” Britta said, grinning, and Susie agreed that it sounded like fun.
“Since it’s a Saturday, how about we have a picnic lunch on the porch here, then change into our bathing suits?” Cousin Verena proposed.
“By that time of day, it’ll feel gut to get cooled off,” Britta said.
Marnie agreed. “Just the four of us.”
“Unless there are other cousins or friends you want to invite, Britta,” Verena said. “That’s up to you, but let me know so I’ll have plenty of food for everyone.”
“Mamma will eat with us, too, of course,” Susie spoke up.
“Oh jah,” said Britta. “Mamma for certain.”
“But no boyfriends allowed,” Marnie teased.
Verena rolled her eyes at her sister. “Jah, just us girls.”
Susie laughed with them, grateful for this lighthearted time together.
As promised, Del stopped by the very next Tuesday to pick up the framed family tree. Susie soon realized that, because there were several customers ahead of him in line and more behind him, he wouldn’t be able to engage her in much conversation. As it turned out, he only remarked how wunnerbaar the cross-stitched family tree had turned out, though he made no attempt to hide his enthusiasm from the other waiting customers. The two Amishwomen behind him exchanged knowing glances, and one gave Susie a little smile.
“I’m glad you like it,” Susie said as Del paid. “Hopefully your Mamm will, too.”
Later, Susie and Mamma enjoyed the noon meal together, since Britta was visiting Hazel.
“Tomorrow, we should pick rhubarb,” Mamma said to Susie. “Ain’t so?”
“That’s exactly what I told Britta this mornin’—she knows we need her round here.” Secretly, Susie hoped Mamma wouldn’t insist on helping too much. “Del Petersheim says he’s lookin’ forward to sampling some of our special rhubarb jam soon,” she added.
“Sounds like he’s dropped by the shop a couple times,” Mamma observed, arching her eyebrows.
Susie nodded. “He’s real nice.”
Mamma made a small sound as if agreeing, though Susie couldn’t really tell. One thing was certain: She really didn’t need to hear again that Mamma preferred Obie. They’d already had that conversation, and besides, there wasn’t anything she could do to get Obie to change his mind about going now.
CHAPTER
14
After a quick breakfast of sticky buns and coffee, Susie and Britta picked the plump red rhubarb stalks amidst heavy morning dew. Mamma, for her part, helped to hose off the dirt before they carried the stalks inside to make their delicious jam. Bobwhites were calling back and forth in the paddock, and the sweet scent of newly cut hay wafted on the spring breeze.
At nine o’clock, Mamma went out to mind the shop, while Susie and Britta made a big batch of their special rhubarb jam to sell.
Growing up, Susie had often heard the womenfolk talk about the health benefits of rhubarb juice, which many believed improved eyesight and aided digestion. A good number of them, Mamma included, kept rhubarb juice on hand when it was in season. Susie knew, however, that Britta disliked the taste, so she didn’t drink the juice, although as long as strawberries were added, she liked the jam and pies made with rhubarb.
“Do ya s’pose we get our tastes from our parents?” Britta asked clear out of the blue as she poured sugar into the large pot.
Susie shrugged. “Maybe so,” she replied.
Del stopped by once more on the last day of May to sample the rhubarb jam. Susie was impressed when he guessed the secret ingredients: clementine juice, lime juice, and cinnamon. She enjoyed bantering with him while he paid for two pint-sized jars.
“Both jars are for you, jah?” she teased.
He bobbed his head. “We’ll just see how long it lasts, considering my parents and siblings like rhubarb jam, too. They really need to try this.”
“Well then, maybe you’d like to purchase three?”
“You should be in sales,” he said, closing his wallet and chuckling.
Before he left, Del mentioned that he had been very busy with the crops, but he wanted to take her out again. “I hope ya understand,” he said, looking apologetic.
“It’s a busy time for us, too, what with gardening and canning an’ all. Time to restock the shelves so we’re ready for you next time.”
He grinned and she smiled in return. “Enjoy the jam,” she said as he headed for the shop door.
Susie was in the gazebo watering the hanging plants when she heard the sound of a horse and buggy turn into the driveway the next day. She looked and was surprised to see Obie and Hazel.
Oh, that’s right—Hazel’s come to bake pies with Britta. She recalled Britta saying as much earlier that morning. The girls planned to take one to the Ebersols and the other up the road to Lois Peachey and family, a neighborly thing to do.
Susie continued watering and wondering if Obie would head on his way with just a wave.
To her surprise, he climbed out of the buggy and walked over to the gazebo steps. “Hullo, Susie,” he said, running his hand over his clean-shaven chin.
“Wie geht’s?”
“Doin’ all right.” Obie glanced toward the pond. “Say, I was wonderin’ if we might take the rowboat out, maybe? I’ve got a little time before I need to run an errand, and it’s the perfect day for it.”
Well, that’s unexpected! she thought, pleased. She glanced back at the house, where Britta was already occupied with Hazel. Then, looking toward Mamma’s shop, where a couple of buggies were parked, Susie decided that her mother would be fine without her. “Jah, I can prob’ly slip away for a while,” she replied, setting down the watering can.
When they walked out to the far end of the dock, Susie stepped barefoot into the moored rowboat, and Obie followed. The boat swayed gently as she sat down, and he untied the rope, then took a seat facing her. Slowly, he pushed the boat away from the pier, then began to row toward the deeper water.
Susie tried not to grin at how wonderful it was, skimming through the water on such a fine day with Obie. Since it was only the first day of June, it wasn’t terribly hot yet.
“I’ve managed to keep what I’m gonna tell ya under my hat this time,” he said, sitting tall as he rowed more slowly now, letting the boat glide gently into the heart of the pond. “I learned my lesson ’bout tellin’ my Bruder first.”
Susie hadn’t the slightest idea what Obie meant, so she waited quietly.
“Onkel Leon has been pressin’ me to come sooner than October. I’m plannin’ to head down to Ronks tomorrow to talk to one of my cousins ’bout helpin’ Dat and Jerome through the summer and into fall harvest. Assuming I can find Dat some help, I’ll be free to leave for Sugar Valley sooner than planned.”
Once again, Susie didn’t know how to react. Here lately, she had seen Obie only infrequently, mostly at Preaching or in the distance at a Singing or two, and with him leaving, she felt uncomfortable letting him know how she felt about much of anything. So she simply nodded her head. And here I thought there were months yet.
“Lord willin’, I hope to leave this Saturday. Just wanted you to hear it from me,” Obie said, studying her expression.
He was observing her so closely that she struggled to keep her expression calm. “You’re here to say good-bye, then?”
“Just for now. Nothing’s going to change the fact that we’re friends.” Obie’s smile was warm and reassuring.
But with Obie leaving, wouldn’t their friendship become something far different now?
“I’ll pray for safe travels for you,” she said, reaching over the side of the boat to dip her hand in the water, still doing her best to hide her disappointment.
He began rowing faster again. “I can always count on ya, Susie,” he said. “For prayer.”
“Jah,” she said.
It crossed her mind to ask how he expected them to maintain their bond into the future when, more than likely, one or both of them would meet the mate God intended, bringing their longtime friendship to an end.
