Promise to Cherish (29 page)

“Come on, Billy,” he said to his horse, named after Billy the Kid when he bought him during his early
rumschpringa
years. Had Matilda gotten the message? Eli wasn’t sure.

Billy pushed himself faster. Eli hollered into the rain. With Matilda behind him and the fresh air and a fast horse and maybe
real love ahead of him, his true self was returning.

Christine’s sudden nausea had only been induced by the smell of the ham at church. She was glad that bacon didn’t have the same effect on her when she woke to Annie’s breakfast the next morning. Not to mention all the food Annie prepared for the two of them for lunch and supper as well. Aunt Annie was such an excellent cook that Christine was glad to eat anything she made. Unfortunately she realized that she was beginning to gain weight fast, and it wasn’t just the growing baby.

It was late and the oil lamp glowed. She undressed but before she pulled on her nightgown she took in her reflection in the window. Her dresses would soon no longer hide an abdomen that seemed to expand daily. Though it didn’t look like a pregnant belly yet. She remembered her mother saying that she never looked with child until she was nearly six months. What would she do when she could no longer keep her circumstances from everyone around her? That’s when she would have to make a real decision about the maternity home or staying in Sunrise. Either way, her life was going to change forever.

Christine moved her hands down the small bulge and imagined she had a husband who would put his ear to her belly and swear he could hear the baby’s heart beating. He would look up at her excitedly and they would dream of a house full of children. Just thinking about this made her face grow warm with embarrassment. She slipped the nightgown over her body quickly, not wanting to see her shape anymore. It hung loosely around her, hiding her shame, but her guilt would never be buried.

Past her window reflection she could see Eli’s house and the barn where he was still staying. There was a dim glow through
the small window near the loft where he was sleeping. She had only seen him for a few brief moments since yesterday. He’d been busy on the farm with Mark still in bed. He still jogged over each day after supper to say hello and good night, if Christine and Annie hadn’t eaten with the Brennemans.

“David’s wedding banns are being announced soon,” Eli told her one evening after supper as they sat on the porch swing hanging from a nearby tree.

“Wedding banns?” Her bare toe dragged against the grass before she pushed against the ground, keeping the swing moving.

“Their wedding announcement, which usually happens about three weeks before the ceremony. In our language we call it
aus ruffah
—which means
to call out
.”

“Sounds romantic.” She pulled her legs up onto the swing and faced him. The breeze lifted her hair from her shoulders. She’d been wearing her hair more simply since being there, rarely pin curling it. She’d been bathing in a basin instead of showering, using an outhouse, and learning to cook on a woodstove. Life seemed slower and more relaxed in Sunrise and the perfect hairstyle was becoming less and less important. Wearing it long and loose or in a ponytail was more normal.

“Really, you think so?” He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “Here I thought English girls would find our ways too simple.”

“Not too simple.” She shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong. Every girl I know has dreamed of the man she loves on bended knee and a pretty lacy or satin snow-white gown on her wedding day. Pretending you don’t know that the man you love has already asked your dad for your hand in marriage, practicing your vows and the wedding kiss . . .”

Christine inhaled the cool air. She was talking about dreams that would never happen. The words from the maternity home letter crossed her mind. She would be returned to her family
in a condition that is proper and respectful
.

Impossible.

After breakfast a few mornings later a knock resounded at the door. Christine was sitting at the table writing a letter to Jeanne.

“Come on in,” Christine called out before she thought to consider who might be standing there. Usually Eli was the only one who visited.

“Sylvia?” Christine waved her to come inside. “Come on in. I hope Mark is doing well. Has he been able to sleep? I heard he was complaining about being tired still.”

Sylvia nodded and smiled shyly. The two of them hadn’t spent any time alone together since the day in the back of the buggy. She bit her lower lip as she stood there. Her abdomen pushed against her brown dress in the shape of half a cantaloupe.

“Oh, Mark’s fine—but you’re right, he does complain a lot. I just came over to see if you wouldn’t mind helping us again.” Sylvia sat at the kitchen table with Christine.

“What’s that?”

“Dr. Sherman is busy today and can’t stop in. He asked that maybe you could check on Mark’s leg for him—but only if you’re up for it?”

Being useful in this way brought her a thrill. “I’d love to.” She hopped off the chair and grabbed her coat before Sylvia could even say thank you.

They walked over in silence and entered the small bedroom.

“Syl?” Mark asked, followed by several Dutch words that Christine didn’t understand. Sylvia sat down on the edge of the bed and spoke back. Christine realized scolding sounded the same in Pennsylvania Dutch as it did in English.

Mark’s eyes darted to Christine and then back again.

“I’m just here to help,” Christine interjected.

Mark let out a loud sigh and his arms went down to his sides,
surrendering. His face went to the window opposite Christine.

Sylvia looked up at Christine and smiled. She moved away so Christine could get to Mark’s leg. She used the supplies that Dr. Sherman had left and cleaned and redressed the wound.

“It is healing very well, Mark,” she said, standing.

“Really? See Mark. We’ll get the house up before the heat of the summer hits.”

Christine left them to discuss their plans. When she left the room two ladies were walking into the house with Sarah.

“Christine.” Sarah smiled but appeared uncomfortable, her eyes darted between her and her company. “This is Mariellen Fisher and her daughter Amanda.”

Christine smiled. “Hi, nice to meet you,” she said and put her hand out. She’d learned a hearty handshake went a long way in this community. After they shook hands she looked back at Sarah. “I was just checking in on Mark.”

The ladies smiled at her and simultaneously untied and removed their black bonnets and unpinned their black capes. Both wore navy dresses and white coverings. The two women looked more like sisters than mother and daughter, blond hair and bright blue eyes. Both had smiles that stretched along their faces.

With a nod she walked through the living room then down the porch steps when Sylvia called her back.

“Christine. Wait.”

She turned around. “Did you need something? Does Mark need anything?”

Sylvia shook her head. The women both stood at the bottom of the steps in an awkward moment of silence.

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping.”

“I’m always willing to help. Being a nurse is actually something I’m good at,” Christine said, chuckling.

“Sorry that Mark’s so ornery. I scolded him.”

The women laughed.

“Don’t be too hard on him. I’ve had a lot worse patients than Mark. Eli and I both have.”

She wished instantly that she’d left Eli out of it since Mark and Eli were so hateful toward each other.

“I’d love to hear your hospital stories sometime.”

“Really?” Christine let out a measured breath and smiled.

Sylvia nodded and her mouth formed a quick grin.

“I’d love to visit with you more. Would you stay now?”

“Sarah has company. Maybe today isn’t a good day.”

“Mariellen and Amanda are here to talk about the wedding,” Sylvia said in a whisper. “Since it’s still a secret you’ll get to hear the plans before anyone else.”

Sylvia looked at her with hopeful eyes.

“Okay,” Christine said.

She followed Sylvia into the house and pretended not to notice when the other three women went silent.

“I asked Christine to join us.”

“Can you crochet doilies?” Mariellen asked, eyebrows up.

“No, you don’t want me to do that. Annie says she’s planning to teach me though.”

“You’ll want to learn to soon, right?” Amanda asked.

Sarah eyed Amanda, then changed the subject. “Why don’t you slice the cherry pie for us?”

Christine pushed her chair away from the table and did as she was asked. She took out a butter knife, having learned where Sarah kept her kitchen items. The butter knife in her hands hovered over the pie for several long moments before she replayed how she’d watched the other ladies cut into pie.

“I’m surprised that cherry pie didn’t get eaten for breakfast,” Mariellen said.

“Oh, I have to hide it from the boys otherwise it’s gone
before
breakfast,” Sarah added.

“Especially with Eli, so I hear. Matilda said cherry is his
favorite,” Mariellen said with obvious intention behind her words. “She baked one for him when he drove her home from the Singing.”

“Oh, he’s not even my worst, it’s Enos. He sneaks under the porch with pie, brown sugar, and just about anything else sweet that you can imagine. But,
ja
, cherry is Eli’s favorite.”

The conversation continued in Pennsylvania Dutch and Christine’s heart hammered in her chest. Her nerves made her stomach turn and she breathed evenly to push away the discomfort. She shouldn’t be feeling this way about Eli but his smile was engraved in her mind. Did she have real feelings for him? She made the last cut in the pie carefully.

“
Sell gookt gute
,” Sylvia said, standing next to her. She smiled. “I said that it looks good.”

Christine smiled back. “Think so?”

Sylvia nodded. “I’ll get the plates and forks.”

Christine set the pie on the table and the conversation returned to English. She ate a piece of pie in silence and learned that since the war rations had been lifted they were planning a bigger spread than the weddings during the war. She excused herself in the middle of their wedding conversation, needing to get some air.

“Annie is expecting me for lunch. I better go,” Christine told the women. As she left the farmhouse she heard Eli’s booming baritone coming from the barn. She decided she had a few minutes to say hello. When she got closer she heard a non-Amishman’s voice.

“How did you like the camp life?” the man asked when she was still a short distance away. She could see the non-Amishman leaning against the wide-open door of the barn and assumed Eli and his brothers were inside.

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad. I learned a lot at the hospital job.” Eli’s voice brought a smile to her lips.

“You didn’t have anyone shootin’ at ya, did ya?” the man asked.

Christine slowed her pace. Maybe she should turn around and leave. This man was clearly baiting Eli. She ducked behind the outhouse near the barn, too curious to stop listening.

“Come on, now, Bucket, you know how I feel about that.” How could he keep his voice so calm? And, did he call the man
Bucket
?

“You mean what your church believes. You shot lots of guns when we were growing up,” Bucket was badgering Eli.

“We were hunting,” Eli’s voice grew louder.

“What about that time you got me in the back?”

“That was a slingshot, not a gun, and we were ten. If I remember, we were playing cowboys and Indians and you got me back.”

“Coward.”

Christine quietly gasped and her hand covered her mouth.

“What did you call me?” Eli’s voice was steely.

“Hey, Bucket, when did you get back?” Christine recognized Moses’s voice.

“Got back a few weeks ago. Got a purple heart.”

Christine could hear the clap of hands joining in a strong handshake.

“Gettin’ married next week,” Bucket said. Christine breathed a sigh of relief. For now the other man was leaving Eli alone.

“Is that right,” Moses said. His voice wasn’t as deep as Eli’s.

“Eli here’s gonna be getting married soon, too. Ain’t that right, Eli?”

Christine’s gasp was almost too loud. She put her back against the outhouse. The air warmed around her and her underarms tingled with sweat. Eli was getting married?

“Moses, drop it,” Eli said.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Bucket asked.

“Well, I think he’s got his pick. He’s taking Matilda Miller home after the Singing and then sitting on a porch swing with
the English girl through the week.”

So he
had
gone on a date with Matilda. He hadn’t said anything to Christine about it and she didn’t want to ask. It was time for him to move on now that he was home from the CPS, but somehow it still stung her heart hearing he had gone on a date.

“Oh, Matilda’s that real small, pretty thing. Kinda mousy though. Who’s the English girl?”

“Moses, Bucket, stop. I mean it.”

“Christine’s a pretty little lady. He brought her home from his fancy hospital job.”