Leaving Lancaster (22 page)

Missy let out a yawning whine as she got to her feet and laid her muzzle on Beth's knee.

Then it occurred to me Beth might be mistaken. As much as I liked her, she could be unreliable for all I knew. How old was she when Mom and Dad left? Could I count on a young teen's recollections? After all, Beth had romantic inclinations toward my father. Had her deep-seated animosity for Mom sprouted into a thorny bramble, piercing the truth?

Tomorrow was a nonpreaching Sunday. According to Mommy Anna and Greta, relatives and neighbors from all over the county would stop by to socialize. I'd invite my dad's parents, Beatrice and Jeremiah Fisher, too—ask them to come early before their own guests arrived. Possibly they knew more about my father's death and might verify why Mom refused the money.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Nathaniel's marriage proposal and kiss blinked in Esther's mind like a firefly trapped in a jar as she swept the utility room and lined up Isaac's spare boots.

She was thankful Mamm hadn't inquired about her giddiness—or had she guessed? When Esther was a girl, Anna could practically read her thoughts. But each time Esther had confided in her mother, Mamm would tell Dat everything, then he'd tighten his grip, an incentive for Esther to gain distance from both parents.

Ach, at seven in the morning on the Lord's Day, why did Esther's mind keep returning to the past like a homing pigeon?

The piquant fragrances of cloves and cinnamon wafted into the utility room from the kitchen. Following her nose, Esther joined Mamm and Greta, who stood baking a plethora of pies and cookies for today's visitors. Never had she expected to act as her mother's kitchen helper again, but Esther settled into the routine, peeling apples and chopping nuts.

“Did ya know Holly spent the night at Beth's?” Mamm asked Esther.

“I saw her bed wasn't slept in.” First a dinner invitation and then an overnight? What was Beth up to? “I hope Holly had the decency to let you know.”

“Yah, Zach drove her by. They also stopped at the Fishers'.” With Greta's assistance, Mamm set two pumpkin pies into the oven. “Seems Holly invited Beatrice and Jeremiah to come by today.”

“
Himmel
, what for?”

“'Tis time we entertained them. A fine-gut idea, really.” Mamm's elbow playfully tapped Esther's. “I'd better make sure the house is lookin' just right before Beatrice arrives.”

Esther imagined Beatrice's disapproving eyes surveying Anna's home, tainted by Esther's presence. She hoped the house would be jam-packed with sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews, cousins she hadn't seen in many a year, and neighbors. She could avoid Beatrice altogether.

“I'll scrub the floor and
redd
up the kitchen when we're finished baking,” Esther said. Nothing took her mind off its quandaries like hard work.

Greta left the room to usher her children upstairs, and the moment for Esther to explain Nathaniel's astonishing offer surfaced. Esther had wanted to mention Nathaniel's plan at dinner last night, but Isaac was so enthusiastic as he described Montana to Greta and his family, Esther hadn't wanted to burst his inflated bubble. Her brother wasn't about to change his mind concerning leaving Lancaster, anyway, nor were her other brothers planning to return. With the help of neighbors, their wives and children would pack up and follow before the end of November.

“In Rexford, the bishop doesn't stand for the frivolous conveniences that are tearing this county in half,” Isaac had stated over dinner. “No squabbling over cell phones, battery-run laptop computers, or hay balers.” The brothers would refurbish several barns and houses, removing the electrical wiring and reroofing. Esther knew better than to comment.

Standing at the stove, Mamm cracked the oven door and stole a glance. “I bet Beatrice can't bake a better pumpkin pie.”

“'Tis bound to be
appeditlich”
—delicious.

“Ich bedank mich.” Mamm's mouth stretched into a grin. “Looks like the apple crisp is near done. I should have asked Holly to bring along vanilla ice cream when she comes home.”

“That would surprise Beatrice.” But Esther couldn't imagine Beatrice's complimenting her mamm. “The Fishers might not show up, what with family and friends stopping by their house today.” Esther hoped upon hope they wouldn't.

“Their son Matthew and his wife can do the entertainin'. It'll all work out, you'll see.”

Esther remembered the wires running into Jeremiah's barn. “Seems Jeremiah's son and his partner have a small business, separate from the barn and house,” she told Mamm. “They build miniature rocking chairs and dollhouses for Englisch children. They might have an electric freezer in their shop, out of their bishop's eyesight, and a stockpile of ice cream.”

“Yah, I heard tell the Fishers are a right successful family, not that they brag about it or nothin'. But word gets out.”

“As is Nathaniel. Successful, that is.”

“True, and a gut humble man if ever there was one.”

“He told me something important yesterday.” She certainly wouldn't reveal their declaration of love for each other. It was the Plain way to keep courting a secret.

Esther still couldn't imagine herself remaining here even though Dori had promised to visit and insisted Esther would maintain control over the Amish Shoppe. “Jim built a website so customers can order via the Internet from all over the world,” Dori had reported on the phone last night.

Mamm braced herself against the counter.

“Are ya feeling dizzy again?” Esther patted the hickory rocker in the corner near the fireplace. “Have a seat and put your feet up.”

“No time for dallying. Not with company comin'. I'm thinkin' we'll have a full house.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “What's that you're tryin' to tell me?”

Esther grabbed a lungful of air. “Yesterday, Nathaniel swore to me that you, Holly, and I may continue living here for as long as we choose. The rest of our lives, if we like.”

Mamm's lips parted. Her hand raised to cover her mouth.

“Did ya hear me?” Esther asked. “He and Isaac finally settled the details. Nathaniel purchased our farmland, but the carriage house, horse stable, and barn remains in your name until you don't want it.” And in Esther's name too, but she wouldn't mention that fact yet.

“You're not teasing me, Essie?”

Esther shook her head.

“That Nathaniel would be so kind. I don't know what to make of it.”

“You could stay here, Mamm. You wouldn't have to move to Montana.”

“Live in this very house?” She massaged the small of her back. “An
alt maedel
—by myself?”

“What if I told you I might stick around?”

“Ya don't mean it.” Her eyes searched Esther's.

“I'm considering it with all my heart.” Could she and her mamm coexist once Holly returned to Seattle? So many unanswered questions.

“Then I'm between a rock and a hard place. Don't know what to say.” Mamm pulled her Kapp strings loose. “I 'spose I could follow the rest of the family in the spring.” She sank into the rocking chair. “I'll pray long and hard on it.” She closed her eyes and set the chair in motion with her feet.

While Mamm rested, Esther scrubbed the counters and stove top. She brought out dishes, cups, and glasses from the cupboard, and brewed coffee. In what seemed like minutes, she heard the first buggy arrive, then several more, transporting her sisters-in-law and their children. Entering through the back door, they carried baskets of food emitting the tantalizing redolence of peach cobbler, whoopie pies, and peanut butter cookies. Several youngsters woke Mamm with hugs and kisses on her cheeks. She gathered them into her arms. The smaller children clambered onto her lap, prattling in Deitsch. Esther found herself understanding most of their conversations. And wishing she had grandchildren of her own.

Esther's sisters-in-law reintroduced themselves to Esther, whose brain was so addled
she'd forgotten two of their names. Except for Mary Ann, the lanky brunette with a parrot-like nose.

“It wonders me to see you here,” Mary Ann said, giving Esther a rigorous looking over. “I thought you'd have hightailed it back to your fancy city life by now.”

“Yes, I'm still here.” Esther forced a smile.

A sandy-haired woman approached Esther. “Remember me? I'm Francine.”

“Yes, hello.” Esther was glad to see her pretty face.

Francine set her wiggling toddlers on the floor. “And this here is Martha and Julie.”

“Nice ta see ya.” Esther recalled Martha's golden hair and petite frame, and Julie's plump cheeks and rotund girth.

Several Plain-dressed people Esther's age or older flocked into the house. Each gave her a smile. “Must be neighbors or distant relatives,” she said. “They look familiar.”

“I bet ya got one hundred cousins in these parts, for sure,” Julie said, her hands resting on her belly. “Plus folks you knew as a child.”

“All wondering what became of you.” Mary Ann aimed her index finger at Esther. “You're lucky you were never baptized, then put under
die Meiding
.”

“I agree.” Esther was determined to squiggle out of Mary Ann's snare. “May I serve you Kaffi? I brewed a fresh pot.”

“I'd rather drink lemonade,” Mary Ann said. “I can help myself.”

As Esther cut pie and offered cookies to the children, Isaac spoke to his older nephews, in their late teens but not yet wed—she could tell by their cleanly shaven chins. The young men agreed to direct buggy traffic and bring the horses into the barn for water and feed. The boys seemed honored to be given the responsibility, unlike most teenagers Esther knew in Seattle. Her neighbors' sons were good kids, but instead of attending church and appreciating family time on Sundays, their parents whisked them off to soccer practice, then coerced them into doing massive piles of homework, as she had done with Holly. In high school, Holly had been studious, but never settled on a passion, other than hours on the phone with her girlfriends. In college, she'd earned a BA from the School of Business at the University of Washington, learning the skills Esther figured she'd picked up on her own in what Dori called the school of hard knocks.

Holly sashayed into the kitchen wearing a calf-length skirt she must have borrowed from Beth and a sweater vest over a collared shirt. Esther could tell by Holly's demeanor—her movements jerky and brows lowered—she was
gretzich
. Cranky.

Upstairs last night, Esther had noticed Nathaniel's daughters' Amish dress and apron, laundered and ironed, hanging in Holly's room, where Mamm had slept until recently. A heart-shaped prayer cap lay like a white dove on the dresser. Had Mamm intentionally left the door open hoping to entice Esther to enter?

In fact, Esther had been tempted to shed her Englisch clothes and try on the dress, apron, and Kapp. A test run, she'd thought, to see how she felt and looked. But she'd resisted.

“Anna, hello.” Beth followed Holly into the kitchen, hurried over to Esther's mamm, and kissed her cheek.

“Ach, 'tis gut ta see ya, Beth,” Mamm said, making Esther wince. Beth wore her hair fashioned into a French roll, a calf-length small-floral-print dress, and no watch or jewelry other than her wedding band—Esther guessed to ingratiate herself with Mamm and her friends.

Esther's sisters-in-law gathered round to chat with Holly and Beth, hugging them both.

“Glad you're still here,” Martha said to Holly. “How ya doin', Beth?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

Esther assumed Beth's stature in the community soared because she was Zach's mother and Mamm's dear friend. Mamm had mentioned Beth was often invited to work and quilting frolics. Her fingers were nimble, according to Mamm. No doubt more skilled than Esther's.

She heard tromping up the back steps and through the utility room, and saw a man wearing black trousers with a black vest over a white shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat. With an air of dignity and authority, he scanned the kitchen until his gaze latched onto Esther. He walked toward her with a stilted gait, as if one leg or hip had been injured in the past. As he neared Esther, the women, even Mary Ann, who stood almost as tall as he did, lowered their gaze, stopped their chatter, and receded to the perimeter of the room.

“Are ya Anna's daughter?” the man asked Esther, his voice gravelly.

Now what? “Yes, I'm Esther Fisher.” She studied his somewhat familiar-looking face, a latticework of fine lines above a graying untrimmed beard hanging near to his waist.

“Hello, I'm Bishop Troyer.” He removed his hat, held it at his side.

“
Willkumm,
Bishop.” Isaac moved over to them and took the bishop's hat. “Esther, do ya remember Bishop Benjamin Troyer from when we were kids? Well, I suppose he wasn't a bishop when you left, 'tis been so many years.”

Always a reminder of her dicey past. If she stayed here, she would be a marked woman, a target of scandal, no way around it.

As she recalled, Benjamin Troyer had been ten or twelve years her senior and recently married when she and Samuel left.

“Nice to see you again.” She laced her fingers together, trying to remember if it were proper for a wanton woman to shake a bishop's hand. The Ordnung carried with it countless rules, but according to Mamm, many had been modified.

Bishop Troyer's shaved upper lip barely moved when he spoke. “What brought ya back home?” he asked Esther.

She had no clear-cut answer to give him. No logical defense. “My daughter, Holly, wanted to meet my mother,” she said, but shame smacked her like a slap on the face. “No, Bishop, that's not true. Fact is, Mamm begged me to come see her.”

“And about time ya did,” Isaac said. “Just when we're leavin'.” He stepped to the back door to hang up the bishop's hat and greet arriving guests.

The bishop moved closer to Esther and said, “'Tis never too late to return to the fold.” His piercing gaze reminded her of Dat when he'd caught her barefooted and sunning herself on a summer's day instead of weeding the garden.

“In the book of Luke, ya know the story of the shepherd with one hundred sheep?” the bishop said to her as if the room had emptied, when in fact another family was standing only feet away selecting cookies. “He leaves them to go lookin' for the one lamb that wanders from the fold.” The bishop briefly placed a hand on Esther's shoulder and his features softened. “There will be great rejoicing should ya return,” he said.

She was so gratified by his statement, she couldn't stop her eyes from glazing over with a veneer of moisture. The fact that the Almighty would leave his flock to come looking for one lost lamb filled her with wonder.