A Marriage of the Heart (30 page)

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Don’t know. I ran away when I was about seventeen. I’d send money back to Angel, my sister. She stayed with an aunt of ours. But I haven’t seen my folks in years.”

“Don’t you—want to?”

He whisked the eggs with a fork. “
Nee
, not really. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. I guess the Lord will let it happen when it’s time. Now here’s the trick with the eggs—instead of a little milk, add some cold water, about three tablespoons for every six eggs. The water makes them fluffy and light without the runniness.” He poured the bright yellow mixture into a sizzling
pan. “And watch the heat after the first minute or so. Move the pan around so things don’t burn.” He plunked the perfectly done bacon onto a towel while Abigail watched his every move.

Just then they heard her father’s footsteps on the stairs. Joseph thrust a spoon into her hand and quickly sat down at the table. She turned and began to shift the eggs back and forth, wondering anew at his quicksilver kindness.

“It smells good in here,” her father remarked suspiciously as he took a seat at the table.

“
Ya
, so it does,” Joseph agreed as Abigail turned her first perfectly scrambled eggs out onto a platter. She brought plates and tableware and served the bacon and eggs with the bread pudding left from yesterday. Once more she watched her father’s face relax from disbelief to enjoyment as he forked up his food.

She felt a sudden rush of gratitude and looked at Joseph with a quick smile, surprised to find him return her gaze with a wink of his dark eyelashes. She felt good inside, like she had a secret friend. Her heart softened toward him, and she uttered a silent prayer of thanks to
Derr Herr
and began to eat her eggs.

J
OSEPH WATCHED HER FROM THE CORNER OF HIS EYE AS HE
ate. How pretty she was with the slight flush of pleasure on her cheeks. He wanted to remind himself that she was manipulative, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so at the moment. He just knew that he felt content. His belly was full, he had work to attend to, and he happened to be married to a very beautiful woman.

A sudden mewing sound broke the silence in the kitchen.

Mr. Kauffman looked up. “What’s that, then?” he asked.

Joseph smiled. “A wedding gift from me to your daughter, sir. A kitten to keep her company. Do you want to see it?”

Mr. Kauffman frowned. “
Nee
, I’ve work to be about. As do
you, if you’ve a mind to.” The older man pushed back his chair and rose from the table. “I’ve got a small harvest of corn to get in.”

“Do you can it?” Joseph asked, then realized his mistake when he saw his father-in-law’s frown deepen. Obviously Abby didn’t know how to can. “I mean, we’ll can some of it,
ya
? I’ve missed canned sweet corn.”

“I’ve just been storing it for stock feed the past years.”

Abigail spoke up. “Well, this year, Father, please bring a few bushels to the house. I–I’ll can it up right.”

She glanced at Joseph, and he felt pleasure in giving her a faint nod. Maybe he could work in a late-night canning session. The tendrils of hair at her temples might curl in the steam, and her cheeks would be flushed . . .

He drew himself up sharply when he realized Mr. Kauffman had repeated himself.

“
Ya
, I’m coming now.” Joseph rose, then bent to brush his lips across her temple before depositing his plate in the sink. He followed his silent father-in-law out the door and left Abby alone with the kitten.

CHAPTER NINE

A
BIGAIL DECIDED THE MOMENT THEY’D LEFT THE KITCHEN
that she would surprise Joseph with at least a basic knowledge of canning. It was the least she could do to return his kindness about the cooking. She ignored the warm rush of feeling that she had when she thought about her new husband.

She would need basic supplies, like canning jars. She’d go into town and get some information first, from the best source she knew, Yoder’s Pantry. Tillie might be able to help. She saw to the kitten’s small needs, then she raced upstairs to change her blouse, thinking how funny it was that she was getting so excited over something domestic.

Still, she considered, as she left the house a few minutes later to hitch Carl up to the buggy, her interest truly lay in surprising her husband and in wanting to see his face light up with pride. It was a curious sensation for her, this desire to please someone besides herself. If she’d felt it with her father, it had long ago been squashed by too many failed attempts.

Joseph was different. Although he could be angry and cutting, he was also infinitely kind—like with the kitten. He’d wrangled her father into a pet without so much as a cross word, something she had never been able to do. And he was willing to talk about his past and his family, willing to be open with her when most people kept their distance.
And probably for good reason,
she thought ruefully as she navigated the buggy into town. She had always been one to gossip, especially about other girls, and she didn’t feel
particularly good when she considered this aspect of her personality. Could it be that a few simple days of marriage were revealing her most intimate characteristics to herself? She wasn’t too sure she liked the idea.

As she climbed down from the buggy to hitch up in front of Yoder’s, a passing pair of
Englisch
girls caught her eye, and the old, familiar pull of interest in the outside world made her stand still on the sidewalk. She admired their clothes, the bright colors and cut of their skirts, as well as their free-flowing hair. But it was more than that. She felt like they walked unencumbered by the social boundaries so imposed by her own people—the role of women and the expectations of their duties in life. She mentally shook herself. For someone who had so longed after the
Englisch
way of life, it was a funny thing to be seeking out the best way to can sweet corn.

She entered the restaurant, enjoying the rush of air-conditioned coolness that met her arrival. Her friend Tillie was waitressing, just as she had hoped. She came over and greeted Abigail with a large menu.

“Abigail, I’m so glad to see you. We’re still doing breakfast, if you like.”

Abigail returned the smile. At one time she’d wanted to be a waitress. It would have allowed her a closer brush with the
Englisch
, but her father never permitted it. And now, her mind whispered, she had her own former
Englisch
man at home.

Tillie leaned close and spoke behind the menu. “How is it to be married to Joseph Lambert?”

Again Abigail smiled; it was nice to be the center of attention, even for a short time. And she found, to her surprise, that she could respond with honesty to the other girl’s question.

“It’s
gut
—really.”

Tillie’s eyes twinkled. “It should be. He’s hot.”

Abigail giggled at the use of the
Englisch
word, but she had to agree. Joseph was hot—the idea made her face flame.

Tillie laughed. “Come on, let me seat you.”

Abigail caught her arm. “Tillie, wait . . . um . . . this may sound funny, but actually I came in today because I was hoping I could take a peek in the kitchen. Maybe talk to one of the cooks or to you for a few minutes—about canning.”

Tillie looked at her blankly. “Canning?”

“
Ya
. . . you know, how to do it?”

“That’s what you’re thinking of during the first week of marriage?”

Abigail flushed. “Well, Joseph likes sweet corn, and I . . .”

“Just want to make him happy.” Tillie beamed. “It must be true love if it brings
you
to the idea of canning corn. Come on in the back. I’ll introduce you to Judith. She’s Amish and a great cook. And I happen to know that she’s putting up carrots today and could probably use some help. You can learn firsthand.”

Abigail followed her friend through a door into a large, modernized kitchen. She was amazed at the amount of stainless steel and all of the electric appliances and mysterious gadgets. She also recognized at once the precision and order of the busy place as four Amish women worked together to get orders met.

“We’ve got four wonderful cooks,” Tillie explained. “Martha, Mary, Judith, and Ruth—this is Abigail. She wants to learn some canning tips; she just got married.”

The older women laughed as Tillie continued. “Ruth mainly does desserts. Martha and Mary work the main dishes, and Judith processes all the produce that comes through. Judith, I told Abigail that you might be doing some canning of your own today.”

The cheerful, round-faced woman nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. “
Ya
, and I could use a pair of young hands to help.”

“Oh,
danki
,” Abigail said, glad she’d changed into a spotless apron before she’d left home.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Tillie smiled and waved, leaving the kitchen.

“You need a hair net first, Abigail,” Judith said, handing her a folded packet.

Abigail opened it awkwardly, withdrawing a white net and slipping it over her
kapp
.

“And plastic gloves. I think you’ll take a small pair.”

Abigail stood awkwardly but eagerly next to a shiny counter.

“It’s
gut
for a young wife to have a cellar full of the colors of canning—the vegetables, fruits, and jellies,
ya
? Do you remember your
mamm’s
pantry?”

Abigail shook her head and spoke low. “She died when I was five.”

“
Ach
, I’m sorry.” Judith regarded her with compassion. “So perhaps you’ve never had the chance to learn canning properly?”

Abigail shook her head.

“Well, I will teach you today, and someday you’ll show your own daughter. Come, let’s begin.”

Abigail’s mind caught on the image of a dark-haired, blueeyed baby. Any daughter of Joseph’s would be good-natured and beautiful, like her father . . . She snapped back to attention at Judith’s brisk movements.

The older woman was lifting quart-sized glass jars from a sectioned box on the floor. Abigail bent to help her. Then she gathered up two parts of a brass lid for each jar: a flat lid and a screw band.

“To can fruits, vegetables, sauces, and the like, you use jars like these, with the wide mouths. The regular-size jars are better for jams and jellies.”

Abigail nodded, almost feeling like she should be taking notes. But she was a quick study when she wanted to be, and she wanted to be now.

“What are you planning on canning?” Judith asked as she hefted a wooden box overflowing with carrots with green, leafy tops onto the counter.

“Sweet corn first, but we only have a small harvest.”

“It doesn’t matter; it’s all provided by
Derr Herr
and is His bounty,
ya
?”

“Yes.”

“All right. We’re doing carrots today, but I’ll write down the steps for sweet corn for you later. Much of the processing is the same. To begin, you wash your carrots very well, then you cut off the tops and peel them. There’s a knack to peeling with a knife and getting it just right. You want to keep your peelings as thin as possible, so you’ve got to have a sharp knife and a steady hand.” She gave an example, slicing fast and neat down a carrot. “Now you try.”

Abigail took the knife and attempted to imitate the other woman, but ended up digging unevenly into the carrot.

Judith laughed good-naturedly. “You’ll get better. In fact, you’ll be an expert by the end of the day.”

She was right. Abigail gained more confidence as her peelings began to resemble the neat piles that Judith made. And though she was slower, she became accurate and surprisingly interested in what she was learning.

“Carrots, like sweet corn, need to be cold-packed,” Judith explained. “This means a lot of
gut
things for the cook. First, it is easy and doesn’t require standing next to a hot stove for the whole day. And you can be fairly sure that all of the bacteria are killed with this method. There’s nothing worse-smelling than a poorly canned jar of vegetables.”

Abigail helped to blanch the peeled and sliced carrots, then she watched how Judith dipped the vegetables into cold water before beginning to pack them into clean, hot jars. She added a bit of hot water and some sugar to the top of each jar, and then she showed Abigail how to adjust the seals and lids before placing them into boiling water for a short amount of time.

“And that’s it,” she announced, removing the jars with long
tongs. “Now we’ll do the next batch, and you’ll be more than ready to do your own canning—if you’re not too tired.”

Abigail laughed with the other women, feeling included and part of the group. It was an unusual sensation. There was more to this than just drudgery or the perfecting of a recipe, she could see. There was a legitimate science and method. She knew in that moment that
Englisch
or Amish, people had to cook to eat. She had a sudden desire to experiment in her kitchen, and she knew she would never be able to explain to Judith how much her friendly instruction had meant to her.