The Amish Bride (25 page)

Neither Rosalee nor Luke said a word as they ate, and I began to grow anxious in the silence. Finally Rosalee cleared her throat. I looked at her expectantly.

“So tell me about this baking school idea of yours.” She had an amused look on her face.

I sighed. So much for not wanting to broach the topic.

“Well,” I answered. “There’s one in South Bend I looked into, but it’s not going to work out now.” I paused, not sure how to say I didn’t plan to stick around.

Rosalee concentrated on cutting her ham. After what seemed like quite a while, she said, “I know your grandmother has some money set aside for your schooling. And your mother signed you up for the class.”

“I beg your pardon?” I looked from Rosalee to Luke, who had a blank stare on his face and quickly dropped his gaze to his plate, where he kept it, which only added to the awkwardness of the conversation.

“Your
mammi
is paying for school for you. For the course in South Bend.” Rosalee dished up more corn, adding, “Although for the life of me I can’t understand why anyone would pay to learn how to bake.” She shrugged and then said, “So be it.”

I tried to give
Mammi
the benefit of the doubt. While on the one hand, I was pretty sure she had come up with this living and working arrangement as a solution for the keeping-Ella-and-Ezra-apart problem, which was awful, I also had a feeling she was working things out so that I’d have an opportunity to decipher the code, which was fine. Ordinarily, I felt sure that
Mammi
agreed with both Mom and Aunt Klara that baking school was just a big waste of money, but now that such a thing would give me a reason to stick around Indiana for a while, at the Home Place no less, somehow she’d decided it was worth ponying up for. I didn’t know whether to be furious at her or thrilled.

Maybe both.

“She’s already sent a check to the school.”

I wrinkled my nose, again, trying to give
Mammi
the benefit of the doubt, but how absolutely presumptive of her! I would rather take baking classes at the community college in Lancaster and be close to Ezra than stay in Indiana.

Then again, it looked as though
Mammi
and Mom had now cooked up an offer too good to refuse. I didn’t know what to do.

We all fell silent once more. I was lost in my thoughts as I chewed another leathery bite of ham, thinking about Ezra and our future life together. Then, trying to distract myself from my loneliness, after I’d swallowed I asked Luke if he stayed for supper with Rosalee very often.

“Fairly so,” he answered, the color rising in his face. “Except when I’m needed at home.”

It wasn’t unusual for Amish families to hire their youth out to work. I wondered if Luke was allowed to save his money or if it went to support his family. I’d seen it handled both ways among the Amish in Pennsylvania.

We spent the rest of the meal in silence until Rosalee served each of us a piece of coconut cake. I took one bite and closed my eyes. It was divine. The cake was moist and flavorful. The icing was a glaze, and the taste of coconut wasn’t overpowered by sweetness.

“Oh, my,” I said after I’d swallowed my second bite. “This is wonderful.”

Rosalee didn’t answer me, but Luke nodded in agreement. I ate every last crumb.

When we finished, Luke led us in a silent, after-the-meal prayer. I’d
never heard of such a thing back in Pennsylvania, but he bowed his head again so I followed suit, as did Rosalee.

After he’d finished, he said he needed to go on home.

I stood and collected the three plates. “It’s not far, is it?” I wasn’t going to tell them that I’d looked up the distance on Google Earth more than a month ago, plotting how to be closer to Ezra.

“No, I just cut through the woods. It takes only a few minutes.”

I glanced out the window over the sink, at the trees. How I wished Ezra was still that close! I’d be thrilled to stay in Indiana if he were, and even more thrilled to go to baking school here.

“I’ll bring Millie and Eddie with me in the morning,” Luke said to Rosalee.

“
Gut.
”

As I washed the dishes she disappeared, and a few minutes later she returned holding a large manila envelope.

“This came for you yesterday,” she said.

Surprised, considering no one knew until today that I would be staying here, I couldn’t fathom whom it was from. I dried my hands and took it from her. It was addressed to me in Mom’s handwriting in care of Rosalee. I opened it up. Inside was a smaller envelope, addressed to me in Pennsylvania. There was no return address in the upper left-hand corner, but when I flipped it over I found, on the flap, a return address label for Petit Paris that had been broken and then re-taped. Obviously, my mother hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that she’d opened my mail to look inside.

“It’s the information on the cooking school,” Rosalee said. “The next session starts the first of May.”

I glanced at the front of the larger envelope Mom had addressed again. The postmark was dated the previous Thursday, four days ago, the day before Ada and Will had come to get Ezra. Mom and
Mammi
hadn’t just come up with a plan this morning—they had been scheming since the moment they knew Will would be coming out here to take Ezra home. These people would do
anything
to keep the miles between the two of us. Incredible.

I headed down the hall, the packet under my arm, my cell already out of my pocket. I left messages on Mom’s phone, Aunt Klara’s barn phone,
and Ezra’s cell phone, even though I was convinced he no longer had his, as I sorted through the packet of information. It was the same as what was on the website, except there was no tuition list in the packet. Mom must have given that to
Mammi
.

Her partner in crime.

Her coconspirator.

My benefactor.

My traitor.

I
tried to sleep but tossed and turned, wishing I could get comfortable on the hard bed. Moonlight shone through the window. Two cats were fighting around eleven. At three I woke to the hooting of an owl.

Rosalee knocked on my door at five. I was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but I struggled out of bed, planting my bare feet on the cold floor and then grabbing a pair of socks from the drawer. By the time I dressed and finished in the bathroom, the smell of bacon was making my mouth water. I hurried down the hall. Rosalee stood at the stove, flipping hotcakes on the griddle. Luke sat at the head of the table again, but he and Rosalee weren’t alone. A young woman, a little older than me, and a boy of about six sat on either side of him.

“Morning,” Rosalee said to me, the pancake turner in her hand. Then she introduced Luke’s sister and brother, Millie and Eddie, in Pennsylvania Dutch. That much I could understand.

Both had dark hair like Luke’s and striking gray eyes. Millie was beautiful—no wonder her father was worried when Ezra showed up. She was probably taken with him, like every other girl I knew. As for what he’d thought of her, I could only hope he listened to his heart and not his eyes.

Eddie smiled at me, showing off dimples identical to his brother’s. My heart melted.

When he began chattering away in Pennsylvania Dutch, his voice loud and animated, I put up my hand to stop him.

“I’m not as smart as you are,” I said in English.

“You are stupid?” He was absolutely serious as he spoke.

“
Ya
,” I answered. “Just a little.”

“Eddie.” Millie’s voice was quiet, like Luke’s. “She’s not Plain.” She glanced at me and sighed. “Well, she’s partly Plain.”

Then she spoke to him in Pennsylvania Dutch. I made out the English words “Mennonite” and “Lancaster” but that was all.

“
Ach
,” Eddie finally said. Then he whispered to Millie, “She’s purty,” and everyone, including me, laughed. There was nothing shy about Luke’s little brother.

Rosalee stepped toward the table with a plate of hotcakes and a smile on her face. I noted she seemed more relaxed than she had last night. After she put the plate down, she patted Eddie’s head and then settled onto her chair.

Again, Luke led all of us in a silent prayer, but that, and the fact the bacon was overcooked and the pancakes too doughy, was all this meal had in common with the calm and quiet one from the night before. Eddie, who kept jumping between English and Pennsylvania Dutch, didn’t stop talking except when Millie insisted he give someone else a chance.

“You don’t want to be annoying,” she chastised.

He wasn’t at all. He was highly entertaining. I found out all sorts of things, including that he was turning six in June.

“I’m going to be more than a handful then,” he said, his eyes dancing. “And when I’m sixteen, I’m going to court you, Ella.”

I nearly spat my coffee all over the table, but somehow I managed to swallow and say, “Sorry, Eddie, but I’ll be an old married lady by then,
nearly thirty. Besides, you’ll find an Amish girl. Not a Mennonite one like me.”

He pouted, so I added, “Don’t worry, buddy, you’ll have your pick. You’re already a player.”

“What’s a player?”

I blushed, taking another forkful of doughy pancake followed by a bite of too crisp bacon, thinking if my mouth was full I wouldn’t be able to answer.

“Like a volleyball player?” Eddie persisted.

Luke and Millie both looked straight at me. I chewed slowly and nodded.

As if on cue, Luke suggested that it was time for the end-of-the-meal prayer. Sometimes during a silent prayer I tried to focus on talking to God about my day or what was weighing me down. But sometimes I recited the Lord’s Prayer instead, just as I’d done back in February at Aunt Klara’s house. That’s what I did now, but just like then, I found myself faltering when I reached, “Thy will be done…”

Was this God’s will for me? To be at the Home Place and attend a baking school in South Bend? The course was three months long, but I wanted to be back in Lancaster much sooner than that. Ada told me once that when God closed one door, He always opened another. He’d certainly done that for her, but I didn’t feel God working in my life the way He had in hers. In fact, I’d always felt God was far more interested in other people’s lives than He was in mine.

When the silent prayer was over, Eddie started toward the door, but Luke called out, “Don’t go anywhere yet except to fetch the Bible for me.”

Eddie changed direction, hopped on one leg over to the hutch, and returned with a worn Bible.

“We didn’t read last night,” Luke said.

“
Ach
, I don’t know how that slipped by,” Rosalee said.

I was sure it was because of me. I’d upset their predictable world.

Eddie handed Luke the Bible, and, in English, he said he was reading out of Isaiah 40. But then he began to read—in German. I tried to follow along, but could only make out a few words. If Zed were with me, he would have comprehended the entire passage.

When Luke finished, Rosalee put her hand out flat on the tablecloth.

“There’s something we need to talk about. We need to find a ride for Ella to South Bend so she can visit the cooking school.”

I shook my head. “Actually, there’s no need. Penny, the woman I lived with, will take me. I’ll call her.” I still wasn’t sure if I would be attending the school or not, but I decided it couldn’t hurt to pay it a visit. Maybe God was working in my life after all, even if He had chosen to do so through my manipulative, meddling family members.

Looking relieved, Rosalee instructed Millie to clean up the breakfast things, and Luke said he’d take Eddie with him for the morning and see how it went.

After I helped clear the table, Rosalee and I started toward the bakery. The morning was cold, and I was happy to have my cape around my shoulders.

“Today is pie day,” she told me when we entered the bakery. She flipped the sign to “Open,” and I followed her into the kitchen. The smell of cinnamon greeted us. Rosalee said she had popped sticky rolls into the oven before breakfast. She began pulling them out.

“The berries for the pies are in the cooler, and the recipe for the pie filling is on the board. Please prepare that, Ella.” She motioned with her head toward a bulletin board on the far wall. “Wash your hands first.”