A Simple Song (3 page)

Bekka's eyes were huge now. “Your grandmother was a singer in a band?”

“Well, I'm not sure that it was a band exactly.” She held up the record cover. “But it seems she was musical. I mean, this is a record, after all. That suggests music.”

“Willow Tree?” Bekka got a thoughtful look. “That does sound like the name of a music group.”

Katrina frowned. “How would you even know?”

Bekka's fine brows arched mysteriously. “I have my ways.”

Katrina pointed to the computer with a knowing look. “You mean
that
?”

Bekka shrugged.

“You do use it for more than just your family's business, don't you?”

She gave Katrina a sheepish smile. “Let's just say it's my window to the world.”

“But you shouldn't be doing—”

“My parents don't care . . . At least they don't care until I get baptized. Then they'll expect more of me.” Bekka turned the monitor back on. “Right now they don't mind as long as I get my work done. And I
always
get my work done.”

The darkened screen slowly came to life, exposing a colorful image of funny little figures that suddenly started moving about.

“That doesn't look like work to me,” Katrina pointed out.

Bekka laughed. “That's a game, silly.”

“Oh.”

“Let's google Willow Tree and—”

“Google?” Katrina was confused.

“It's a way to look things up,” Bekka explained as she tapped some keys and clicked on some things so quickly that Katrina couldn't even follow it. “There,” she said, pointing to a photo that looked similar to the record cover. “Willow Tree . . . folk trio . . . Willy Brown, Laurence Zimmerman, and the sweet vocals of Starla Knight—”

“That's her—my mammi.
Starla Knight
.”

“Says here that they recorded a single hit titled ‘After the Storm' in early 1966. Their only album, titled
Windy Grove
, was released later that same year. And then Willow Tree broke up in early 1968.”

“That must've been right before Mammi came to live here in our settlement.”

“How do you know?”

“Aunt Alma told me.”

“Let's see if we can find them on YouTube.”

“You what?”

“YouTube.” Bekka waved one hand dismissively as she used the other to frantically click buttons. “I found it! Listen—listen—this is Willow Tree.” She clicked again, and suddenly, right there in black and white, a young-looking woman with long, dark hair and two bearded men, each with a guitar, began to sing—right out of the computer.

Katrina stood there transfixed by the sound of the woman's voice—so clear, so pure, so beautiful. By the time the song ended, Katrina had tears streaming down her face, and she wasn't even sure why. But when she looked at Bekka, she felt a strange sense of relief to see she was crying too.

“That was your mammi!” Bekka said with passion. “You must be so proud.”

Katrina gave Bekka a worried look. Pride was not an admirable trait, and Bekka knew it just as well as Katrina did. “I am amazed,” she admitted. “I had no idea.”

“Let me see if I can find another song,” Bekka said enthusiastically.

By the time they had listened to three songs, Katrina was so overwhelmed that she had to sit down on the stool next to Bekka's office chair. “This is incredible.” She shook her head.

“Do you know what's even more amazing?” Bekka said suddenly.

“What?” Katrina let out a slow sigh, still trying to take all of this in.

“You are just like her.”

“Like who? Mammi?”

Bekka pointed to the frozen image still on the screen—the dark-haired young woman smiling happily with a guitar-playing young man on either side of her. “Her. Starla Knight. You could be her twin.”

Katrina made a nervous laugh.

“I don't mean looks, although you do resemble her. I mean your voice, Katrina. It is just as good as Starla Knight's.”

“Oh, no, of course it's not.” Katrina waved her hand.

“It is!” Bekka insisted. “I've heard you sing. Everyone in group singing has heard you too. They might not say it to your face, but everyone there thinks your voice is beautiful.”

Katrina felt the same old guilt all over again. “But that's not right,” she said quietly.

“Why isn't it right?” Bekka demanded. “God gave you that voice, Katrina. I want to know—what is wrong with using it?”

Katrina had no answer for her. All she had were questions. Lots and lots of questions.

As badly as she wanted to, Katrina couldn't stick around and talk to Bekka about all the questions racing through her mind right now. Instead she asked to stash her bag of mysterious treasures in Bekka's “office.” Naturally, Bekka agreed.

“I promise to keep my nose out of it,” Bekka said as she tucked the bag into a space behind a big box of paper, “as long as you promise to come back and show me everything that's in it.”

“Don't worry,” Katrina assured her. “I haven't even had the chance to go through it all myself. That reminds me”—she reached back into the bag, feeling around for the little bundle and pulling it out—“do you know what this is? I don't think it's a cell phone, unless it's some old one.”

Bekka examined the small box and cord and read the words on the front. “Realtone . . . Transistor . . . Want me to look it up?”

“
Ja
. If you don't mind.”

Bekka pushed more buttons. “Oh, it's a radio,” she told Katrina. “A small portable radio that was popular in the 1950s and 1960s.”

Katrina turned one of the knobs, and suddenly—to her amazement—music was coming out of the little box. “Listen to this.” She held it up.

“It must be an old-fashioned iPod.”

“An I what?”

“Never mind.” Bekka studied it. “I wonder if it's valuable.”

“I don't know, but Aunt Alma said that Mammi sometimes had it with her. She put this thing in her ear.” She looked around for a place to stick the end of the wire into, and after finding a hole that fit, she stuck the little round piece into her ear. “I can hear it,” she told Bekka.

“It really is just like an old-time iPod.” Bekka nodded knowingly.

Katrina wanted to ask her how she knew about all these things but then realized it was due to “working” on the computer.

“Do you want to leave that with the bag?” Bekka asked.

“No.” Katrina shook her head, not wanting to part with what was pouring into her ear at the moment. “If Mammi could listen to this, then so can I.”

Bekka gave a firm nod. “
Ja
. We're always being told to follow the examples of our elders. That's what you are doing.”

Katrina grinned at her. Then she tucked the little radio up into her sleeve so no one would see it, told Bekka thank you and goodbye, and left for home. Once again, she cut along the fence lines, but she walked more slowly this time. It was wonderful to walk through the beautiful green fields with the blue sky and smatterings of clouds overhead—all the while listening to this beautiful music. Even when a man's voice came on after a song finished, talking about the singers and other things, she didn't mind. By the time she got home, she
knew that she was listening to WODZ, the station that played the golden oldies twenty-four hours a day. It comforted her to think this was the same station that Mammi must've listened to when she was alive.

Katrina made it home in time to tend to her evening chores and to help Mamm and Sadie fix supper. She'd found a spot to hide her radio, up high on a shelf in the garden shed, and she felt it would be safe there since she was the primary gardener. She decided that if she was found out, she would simply tell the truth. Mammi had left the radio to her, and she was only following Mammi's example.

As she'd suspected, her parents did not approve of her or Cal going to the group singing out of respect for Mammi's passing. “Not for at least a month,” Daed proclaimed when Cal asked the next morning. Of course, Drew wasn't concerned since he no longer went, and for some reason he was still allowed to visit Hannah at her home on Saturday night after the farm work was done. But Cal, like Katrina, was disappointed. Still, they knew not to argue with Daed. Especially when Daed was feeling particularly poorly. It seemed his back was worse than ever. Katrina overheard her parents quietly talking about some kind of medical surgery that might help him, which had to mean Daed was even worse than he let on. Of course, when the subject of money and how they would pay for it came up, the conversation had ended abruptly. “We will never have that kind of money,” Daed had told Mamm. “Don't mention it again.”

A shadow of sadness hung over their entire household. Mammi was gone. Daed's back was never going to get better. And there would be no group singing for at least a month. Despite the sunny spring weather, the Yoder home seemed draped in sorrow.

Katrina's secret escape from all this grimness was getting to listen to Mammi's radio. She could hardly believe it when, on Saturday night, the song “After the War” by Willow Tree was played. She was so excited that she nearly jumped up from where she'd been sitting by the irrigation pond, ready to run to tell her family this news. But then she remembered: this was her secret. However, as she listened—and to her amazement—she discovered she could kind of remember the tune as well as some of the words. She could almost sing along—or at least hum.

For the next week, Katrina listened to the radio so much that she had to replace the boxy little battery twice. Fortunately, her father always kept a big supply of batteries of all sizes in the pantry, and she found some that fit there. She told herself she would purchase more to replace the ones she was using the next time she went to town. In the meantime, she was so enthralled with the music on the radio that she did all her chores—and more—with enthusiasm. After a while Mamm actually became suspicious.

“I am grateful that I have such a hard-working daughter,” she told Katrina after she'd offered to hang the wash, which was supposed to be Sadie's chore. “But I am wondering why you are being so helpful.”

Katrina felt an all-too-familiar twinge of guilt. “It's just that I like being outside,” she told Mamm. And this was true. “The weather has been lovely.”

Mamm studied her closely. “Is that all?”

She shrugged. “I know how Sadie gets all clogged up and sneezes after being outdoors at this time of year.”

Mamm nodded. “
Ja
, that's true enough.” She smiled. “You are a good girl, Katrina.”

Naturally, her mother's praise made her feel even more guilty. But as soon as she turned the radio on and stuck the plug in her ear, she forgot all about her guilt. It was as if she couldn't stop herself. Listening to this music was incredible, and it was becoming her window to the world—like Bekka had said about the computer. She also realized that the radio station played a lot of the same tunes again and again, and after a couple of weeks, she had learned many of them by heart.

“I'm sure you've been missing Bekka,” Mamm said to Katrina as she came into the house after working in the garden on a Friday afternoon.

Katrina nodded. “She and her family should be back from the gift show by now,” she told Mamm. “I hope it went well for them.”

“Maybe you want to go visit Bekka and find out,” Mamm said.

“You don't mind?”

“You deserve it, Katrina. You've been working so diligently. Ever since Mammi died, it seems you work harder than ever.”

Katrina just looked down.

“In fact, I spoke to your father about it. I told him that it seemed unfair to keep you and your brothers from the group singing. You're all working so hard. Your father agreed you can go now.”

Katrina smiled. “Thanks, Mamm!”

“Go and see your friend. Sadie can help me fix supper tonight.”

Katrina was so happy, she decided to take the road to Bekka's house this time. Even though it would take longer, it would give her more time to listen to the radio. It would
also give her the chance to walk past Cooper's house. She hadn't seen him since the day of Mammi's funeral, and she was starting to feel worried that he might've forgotten her by now. Especially since she had been unable to go to the group singing, and she knew lots of other pretty girls who liked Cooper would have been there. For all she knew, Tricia Green might've turned his head by now. But she hoped not.

Listening to the radio put a lilt in her step, but since she didn't see anyone on the road, she didn't think it mattered. But when she noticed a particular boy cutting across a certain farmyard toward her, she pulled the plug from her ear and tucked it back into her sleeve as she returned to a normal walking pace.

“Katrina,” Cooper called out as he scaled the fence and hurried over to join her. “I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you doing?”

“I'm as well as can be,” she said somberly. “After Mammi's passing.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “
Ja
, I know now how close to her you were. I apologize if I said something to offend you the day of her funeral.”

She gave him a small smile. “I apologize if I took offense, Cooper.”

His eyes lit up. “Where are you headed?”

“To the Lehmans'.”

He smiled. “Mind if I walk with you? I need to pay Peter a visit.” Peter was Bekka's older brother and Cooper's best friend.

She shrugged. “Sure, if you want to.”

“The Lehmans were in Cleveland this week. Selling soap and candles at some big fancy show where shop owners from all over the country come to buy,” he told her.

She nodded. “
Ja
, I know.”

“They had to ride the bus to get there.”

She nodded again. “
Ja
, I know.”

“Peter said they had six heavy crates full of samples to take with them and—”

“
Ja
, I—”

“Is there anything you don't know?” He laughed.

“Well, Bekka is my best friend,” she reminded him.

“
Ja
, I know.”

Now she laughed. “I know something you don't know.”

“What's that?”

“My parents are letting me and my brother go to the group singing this week.”

“That is good news!”

She grinned. “I have missed it.”

“And we have missed you.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

“It's true. No one sings as pretty as you, Katrina. Everyone says so.”

She felt her cheeks warming. “Thank you. But they should not say that.”

As they reached the Lehmans', Cooper looked intently into her eyes. “I look forward to seeing you at the group singing, Katrina.”

She smiled. “And I look forward to being there.” Then she hurried back around the house, hoping to find Bekka “at work” in her office. To her relief, Bekka was there. And this time she actually seemed to be working.

“We got so many orders,” Bekka told her. “It's unbelievable. My family is going to have to work so hard to fill all of them.”

“But isn't that a good thing?”

“
Ja
. But it will keep us busy.” Bekka looked up from her computer. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Mamm let me have some free time.” Katrina looked behind the box of paper to make sure her bag was still there. “But if you're busy, I can come another—”

“No, you can keep me company while I enter these into the computer,” Bekka told her.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to go through Mammi's things,” Katrina said.

“I was wondering when you were going to get back here to do that.” Bekka chuckled. “I was about ready to go through them myself.”

“I couldn't get away the first week,” Katrina said as she opened the bag. “Then you were gone.” As she pulled out the record, she told Bekka about how she'd been listening to the radio. “It's as if I can't stop,” she confessed. “Sometimes when I know Sadie is asleep, I sneak it into my bed and listen there.”

Bekka laughed. “You are worse than me and this computer.”

“And I've been learning songs,” Katrina told her.

“Really? What kinds of songs?”

“Most of them are from the sixties and seventies,” she explained. “The station only plays old songs. But I love them.” She sighed. “I love them so much I could just sing and sing.” She stopped herself. “Except that I know it's wrong.”

“Why don't you sing one for me?” Bekka asked as she plucked away at her keyboard.

“Sing one?” Katrina felt self-conscious now.

“Come on,” Bekka urged. “I want to hear an old song.”

Katrina tried to think of a good song. “All right, there is a group called Peter, Paul and Mary, and—”

“I think I've heard of them.”

“Really?” Katrina was doubtful. “How do you happen to hear of all these singing groups? Do you listen to music too?”

Bekka gave her a sly look now. “I'm sure you've never heard of a TV show called
American Star
. . . have you?”

Katrina just shook her head. “No, of course not. Have you seen it?”

Bekka pointed to her computer. “I watch it on here.”

“I know you watch movies, but the computer is a TV too?”

Bekka giggled. “Sort of.”

“Oh.” Katrina was surprised. There was a lot she didn't know about computers.

“This TV show is so great,” Bekka told her. “Ordinary kids like you and me—well, except they're all English—anyway, they compete in singing. The winners get all this money. And sometimes they sing songs from groups like Peter, Paul and Mary.”

“Really?” Katrina tried to imagine that but couldn't.

“So anyway,
ja
, I do know who Peter, Paul and Mary are.
American Star
did a tribute to them last season. They even showed old films of them singing.”

Katrina just shook her head.

“Anyway, you were going to sing one of their songs.”

“
Ja
. The reason I'll sing one of theirs is because the way they sound—the way they sing—reminds me of Mammi's group Willow Tree. But I've only heard Willow Tree a couple of times on the radio. Maybe three.”