Adoring Addie (14 page)

It would have seemed like a long time waiting for Onkel Bob—wondering how long Cate would keep Joe-Joe busy, wondering if Mutter had woken up yet and realized I was gone—except that I was sitting next to Jonathan.

I hardly noticed the heat. Or the horse flies buzzing around. Or the thunderclouds building again on the horizon.

“I prayed about all of this,” Jonathan said. “This morning.”

“Denki,” I said, a little embarrassed I hadn't thought to do the same.

A moment later Onkel Bob joined us, apologizing profusely. “A customer called.”

He sat down across from us. I slid the third glass of lemonade toward him. The ice had melted, and the condensation was thick on the outside. “Cate brought these out.”

Onkel Bob drained it. “Ach,” he said. “That's much better. It's so muggy today. We can go into the house. Somehow Cate manages to keep it cool.”

“Joe-Joe's in there with her,” I said.

Onkel Bob nodded, as if he understood.

“We won't be long,” Jonathan said. “We're hoping for your advice—and maybe your help.”

Onkel Bob met Jonathan's gaze and then mine. “I can guess what this is about—but why don't you go ahead and tell me.”

“We're courting,” Jonathan said. “But our parents don't approve.”

“And you want to figure out how to get around that?”

“No,” I said. “We want to figure out how to stop this grudge between them. It's been going on too long.”

“I agree,” Onkel Bob said. “I thought we made some progress at the barbecue.”

I wasn't sure how to say my parents only behaved because they cared what other people thought. “I don't know that there have been any lasting changes.”

“And my parents are stubborn too,” Jonathan added. “Although my grandfather wants to see it end, as he has from the beginning.”

“Jah,” Onkel Bob said. “That's always been my impression too.”

“Plus, I'm afraid if something isn't done, it will explode with our generation,” I said. “I don't think Martin and Mervin will do anything, but Timothy is likely to.”

Onkel Bob nodded, but he didn't say anything.

“So what should we do?” Jonathan asked.

Onkel Bob took his hat off and then put it back on. “Well,” he finally said. “Don't go behind your parents' backs. That will only lead to more hard feelings.”

My face fell. I wouldn't be able to see Jonathan at all if we didn't sneak around.

Onkel Bob's expression was sympathetic. “I'll talk to all of them,” he said. “Soon.”

“When?” I couldn't help but ask.

“Within the next couple of days, God willing.”

“Denki,” Jonathan said.

“Just remember, go slowly. You're bound to stumble if you run too fast.” Onkel Bob started to stand, asking as he did, “Anything else?”

“Jah,” Jonathan said. “Are you hiring?”

Onkel Bob swung his leg over the bench. “Not right now, but in a few weeks or so I will be. Check back then.”

Jonathan's face hid his disappointment—he'd probably be locked into farming by then—as he too stood. “We appreciate your help. We really do.” He extended his hand.

Onkel Bob clasped Jonathan's hand with both of his and then let go, reaching to pat my shoulder. “I'd do anything I could for Addie,” he said to Jonathan. “I trust her as a judge of character when it comes to you. She's always been a wise soul, along with being a hard worker.”

I blushed at his compliments, unusual in our community. But Onkel Bob had always been extra positive. All my life I'd tried not to be jealous of Cate and Betsy and the relationship they had with him, reminding myself they didn't have a mother. But the thing was, I did have a mother, and a live-in Aenti, but I still didn't have the encouragement Cate and Betsy had always had.

My family, from my maternal grandmother on down, could be negative with subtle put-downs and not so subtle criticisms, but Onkel Bob and Cate and Betsy were the opposite. Even when Cate had been rough around the edges, she still had an enthusiasm for others, especially for Betsy, and even for me. There was a sense of gratitude in their family that I hadn't experienced in mine.

I glanced at Jonathan. I felt the same optimistic attitude from him.

“Something will work out,” Onkel Bob said, yanking me out of my thoughts. “Come back if you need more advice, but right now I'd best get back to work.”

We bid him good-bye, and then I started toward the house to collect Joe-Joe.

“Do you have a minute?” Jonathan asked.

I nodded, even though I didn't.

“I have something for you in my buggy.” He took my hand. “It's in the showroom parking lot.”

I followed him, wondering what he had for me and marveling at his generosity, but stopped when I noticed Pete standing in the open doorway of the showroom. He worked part-time for Onkel Bob and part-time in the publishing business he and Cate had become involved in after they moved back to Lancaster County from New York, not too long after their wedding.

“Just trying to catch a breeze.” Pete mopped his forehead with a handkerchief and then around his beard, a mischievous smile on his face. “What are you two up to?”

Jonathan made a funny face, and Pete smiled and then winked as Jonathan pulled me along to the rear of his buggy. He let go of my hand and unlatched the back. There was something pretty large but covered. It wasn't for me—I was
certain my gift was something small, like the bookmark or box.

Jonathan pulled the horse blanket off, revealing one of his hope chests.

“Nice,” I said. Perhaps Onkel Bob had ordered one for Cate. It wouldn't surprise me if she'd refused one when she was thirteen. “Who is it for?”

He folded the blanket in half, catching it under his chin. “You,” he answered, folding the blanket again.

“Me?”

He nodded, placing the blanket back into the buggy.

My heart raced. How did he know I'd wanted one of my own more than anything else in the world?

He pulled the chest toward us, balancing it on the edge. “Can you help me?”

“Jah.” I hurried to the other side. “Jonathan, I can't tell you how much this means . . .”

He grinned. “It's your anniversary gift.”

I laughed. “Jah, it's been all of four days.”

He tilted his head toward me. “It feels like four years. I can't wait until it's been forty.”

We lifted the chest together, carrying it to the sidewalk in front of the showroom, and then put it down, the front facing me. Jonathan stepped backward. I gasped.

Carved into the front of the chest was my name—
Adelaide
—with a willow tree on one side and cattails on the other. Above shone the moon and stars.

“Oh, Jonathan.” I stepped forward and lifted the lid. Inside were more carvings of the orchard and the creek tumbling along with the sycamore grove above the bank. “It's beautiful. When did you have time to do this?”

“The chest was already made—but I started carving it
Sunday night. And finished it an hour ago.” He yawned, and for the first time I noticed how tired he looked.

“Did your parents see it?”

He shook his head.

“Where was it last night?”

He smiled. “Covered up. Just in case.”

“In case I visited your shop?”

He nodded. “Or in case my parents snooped around.”

I stared inside, inhaling the sharp cedar scent, imagining all of the things I'd made through the years that I'd be able to store safely inside. “Denki,” I whispered, stepping back and taking his hand again.

He put his arm around me in a half hug. “Are you sure you like it?”

“Of course!”

He stepped forward and rubbed his hand along the side. “The varnish isn't quite right here.”

“Stop it.” I couldn't see a thing wrong with it.

He pointed to the carving of the moon. “I slipped a little here.”

“It's perfect,” I said. “No one has given me anything so wonderful in all my life.”

“Ach, Addie,” he said. “I don't believe you.”

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, looking up into his blue eyes. “Believe me.” I nearly burst into tears.

“All right.” His eyes searched mine. “I do.”

“I can't take it home today though,” I said. “I won't be able to until I can sneak it into the house.”

“I figured that,” he said. “I asked Pete if you could leave it in the showroom.”

I nodded, grateful for his foresight. We each picked up an end and headed toward the door.

I might not have a Daed like Onkel Bob, or a Schwester or a Mutter who listened. But I had Jonathan, and I'd never felt so cherished in my entire life.

How ironic that he was the one person I wanted to be with but couldn't, starting now, if we followed Onkel Bob's advice.

By the time Joe-Joe and I returned to the house, our bucket full of blackberries, Mutter was in the sewing room with Aenti Nell, with an iced tea in one hand and a fan made from a newspaper in the other.

“Where have you been?” she called out.

I scooted Joe-Joe toward the sewing room with the bucket so she could see for herself.

“Oh, goodie,” she said. “It looks like we'll have a cobbler for dinner.”

“Good thinking,” I said.

“It feels like it's going to storm again,” Aenti Nell called out.

“Jah,” I answered. “Soon, I think.”

“Hopefully it will break this heat,” Mutter added.

I took the bucket from Joe-Joe, shooed him outside to find Billy, and busied myself making the topping for the cobbler. I already had two fryers marinating in the refrigerator to barbecue—Danny said he'd do it. I'd been hoping to keep the kitchen from getting too hot, but because I was going to bake the cobbler anyway, it didn't matter.

Some Amish families had a summer kitchen in the basement
or on an enclosed porch, but we didn't. We did try to barbecue often though, and during canning season I'd set up an old portable camp stove outside that Daed used to take hunting.

As I worked, my mind fell back to the hope chest. I wanted it in my room as soon as possible and wished I could go get it after supper and sneak it up after Mutter and Daed had gone to bed, but it would be too likely that Timothy would see it.

I needed Mutter, Timothy, and Daed all out of the house to pull it off—that was certain.

As I was putting the potatoes on to boil, Danny came in for a drink of water before starting the milking. After he drained his glass, he ran water over his hands and wiped them along his hairline, from his forehead to the nape of his neck.

“Mamm has a phone message,” he said.

“Go tell her.” I nodded toward the sewing room.

He wrinkled his freckled nose but did as I said. I stopped working, listening as hard as I could.

“Aenti Pauline left a message wanting to know if you and Aenti Nell could help her tomorrow,” Danny said.

“Help her with what?” Mutter asked.

Danny hesitated. “Something about the girls' room. Painting and things.”

“She knows I don't paint.”

“There was other stuff too. Making curtains, maybe. Something like that. She wants you to come over in the afternoon.”

“Probably while the younger ones are sleeping,” Mutter said. “What do you think?” she asked, I assumed of Aenti Nell.

“Sure, we can help.”

“Call her back,” Mutter said to Danny. “Tell her we'll be there.”

Danny came back into the kitchen and started filling his glass again. “Will you?” he asked me.

“Will I what?”

“Call Aenti Pauline back?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling, happy to do my part to get Mutter out of the house tomorrow. Now I just needed to make sure Timothy wouldn't be lurking around. And then I'd recruit my younger Bruders to help me carry the chest up the stairs.

For a moment I felt a measure of chagrin for sneaking around my parents' backs—but although I would be sneaking around with something he had made, it wasn't as if I were sneaking around with Jonathan.

When Daed had Timothy drive him across the county to look at a bull he was thinking about purchasing the next afternoon, I knew my chance had come to bring my hope chest safely home. I recruited Billy and Joe-Joe to ride along with me.

We harnessed the pony to the old cart, because Mamm and Aenti Nell had taken one buggy and Daed had the wheel off the other one, for some sort of repair. We'd started down the lane when Danny began waving from the field. “Where are you going?” he yelled.

“Just over to Cate's.”

“In the cart?”

“I need to get something,” I replied, urging the pony to keep going.

“What?” Danny, out of all of my Bruders, was usually the least nosy.

I pretended I hadn't heard and continued on.

“What
are
you getting?” Billy asked.

“You'll see,” Joe-Joe said, snuggling up against me, his body heating mine up even more. “Jonathan made it.” He'd seen it in the showroom the day before.

“Another fishing pole?” Billy looked befuddled. “Why would you need the cart for that?”

Joe-Joe grinned, happy to know something Billy didn't. “You'll just have to wait and see.”

Billy glared for a minute but then became intent on tapping out a rhythm with his bare foot as we rolled on down the lane. It hadn't rained the night before after all, and the humidity had continued to grow worse, until the air felt thick enough to eat. By the time we reached Onkel Bob's, Joe-Joe had fallen asleep against me and I was soaked with sweat. I pulled around to the showroom parking lot and up to the hitching post. Billy jumped down and ran over to my side, taking the reins, and then winding them around the pole.

I eased away from Joe-Joe, lowering his head to the bench so he could keep sleeping, and wiped the trickles of perspiration from rolling toward his eyes.

“Are we going up to the house?” Billy started that way.

“No. It's in the showroom.”

He scowled but then turned and pushed through the door. I followed him. Pete leaned against the counter, flipping through a binder. He greeted us warmly, as if overjoyed to see other living souls on a hot and lazy afternoon.

“Everyone who has come in has commented on your hope chest,” he said. “I think Jonathan will get a few orders out of leaving it here. I'm going to suggest he bring another one by and a stack of cards.”

Billy was staring at the hope chest. “This is for you?”

“Jah,” I answered. “There's my name.”

“Ad-e-laide,” Billy sounded out. “Who's that?”

“Me, silly.” I tousled his hair.

He frowned. “You're Addie.”

“It's a nickname for Adelaide.” No one at home ever called me that—except Aenti Nell every once in a while. I liked it though. It sounded old country and made me think of high mountain meadows and peaks. It felt extra special that Jonathan had put it on my hope chest.

“We brought the cart for it,” I said to Pete.

“I'll help load it.” He grabbed the handle on one end and I reached for the other, but Billy grasped it before I could. I opened the door for them, and they passed through with Pete's end quite a bit higher than Billy's.

I followed them, freezing as I looked at the buggy. Joe-Joe was gone. I didn't panic though. He'd probably gone up to the house to see Cate, looking for a cookie and a glass of lemonade.

“Put it in the back, okay? I'm going up to the house to look for Joe-Joe.”

“Cate's in her office,” Pete said.

When I rounded the corner of the showroom, I spotted the two of them at the picnic table. Joe-Joe was showing Cate the toe he'd stubbed the day before.

“Hey,” I called out, walking toward them. “We're about ready to go.”

Cate waved, and when I reached her, I gave her a quick hug. “Is your Dat around today?”

“Jah,” she said, nodding her head. “Over there.”

Onkel Bob stood near the rose garden, with Nan Beiler at his side. I glanced toward the driveway. Sure enough her car was there.

She wore a lavender print dress and sensible shoes. She and my Onkel appeared to be deep in conversation. Cate had told
me Nan left the Amish church in New York years before, and now she was a run-of-the-mill Mennonite, not Old Order, and drove a car and all. And, of course, the bookmobile too. I couldn't imagine my Onkel Bob ever leaving the Amish, which meant if they wanted a future together Nan would have to rejoin the Amish. Still, some saw it as scandalous that Onkel Bob spent time with her.

However, their challenges paled compared to what Jonathan and I faced. All Nan had to do was rejoin the church. They didn't have to challenge fate and family.

Even though I'd hoped Onkel Bob was over at the Mosiers having a heart-to-heart with Jonathan's parents, I knew he had his own concerns. His relationship with Nan. His first grandbaby on the way. Perhaps he had too many of his own issues to deal with Jonathan's and mine too.

Joe-Joe tugged on my sleeve. “Did you get the big box?”

I nodded.

“What are you going to do with it now?” Cate asked, standing.

“Put it in my room.”

“What will your parents say?”

“They won't notice,” I answered. It was hard to explain. They wouldn't possibly think anything in my room would pose a problem—it was the things outside my room that worried them.

“How will you get it up there?”

I shrugged. “I'll figure out something.” I didn't want to share too much with her that revealed my deceit—nor did I want Joe-Joe to figure out I needed the hope chest to be a secret. If he did, he was bound to mention it to others.

I gave Cate a hug. “Come over and see me sometime.”

“I will,” she answered and then yawned.

“Tired?” I asked.

“Jah,” she answered.

Joe-Joe yawned too and then said, “I'm not.”

Both Cate and I laughed, and then she said, “I spent half the night at Betsy's. It was a false alarm again.”

“Ach, that's too bad,” I responded. “Hopefully, it will be soon.”

Cate nodded, pulling Joe-Joe close in a tight hug. “I'm hoping for a nephew who's just like you.”

He leaned into her in appreciation, and then we all walked toward the showroom parking lot. When we arrived, Pete was tucking the horse blanket around the hope chest.

When he saw Cate, holding Joe-Joe's hand, his face lit up. I turned toward my cousin. She smiled back at her husband, a knowing expression on her face. I could only guess at what their exchange was over—could Cate be expecting?

The whole encounter made my heart ache though. Would I ever be allowed the future Cate had found—happily married, but with Jonathan?

That was what I wanted—and soon.

“Tell Onkel Bob I said hello,” I said after Joe-Joe scampered up onto the cart bench. I could only hope my greeting would remind him of the urgency of Jonathan and my situation.

Cate said she would. “As soon as Nan leaves,” she said, glancing toward the garden.

My thoughts stayed on Jonathan as I drove the cart home. Joe-Joe snuggled against me again, as warm as any heater, while Billy leaned his head over the side of the cart, seemingly intent on the rows of corn in the field.

“Are you counting them?” I asked.

He held up his hand and nodded yes, obviously not wanting to be interrupted. Billy was as determined to be a farmer as Jonathan wasn't. How ironic that as an only son, Jonathan might inherit the family farm, while Billy, as one of six boys, would be far less likely to.

The wind rustled through the corn, and a horsefly buzzed by.

As I came around the curve to our farm, I spotted a buggy by the barn. It was as if the orange triangle on the back shouted out a warning. For a moment I hoped it was Jonathan's—but knew it wasn't when Phillip stepped out of the shadows by the barn.

“Hot enough for you?” he called out.

I pulled the cart over by the tool shed, away from his buggy, feeling as if the hope chest in the back had a neon sign on it too—except that Pete had covered it.

I climbed down in a hurry, pulling Joe-Joe into my arms. “Can you unhitch the pony?” I asked Billy. “Make sure and water and feed him.”

Billy nodded.

Phillip had almost reached the cart, so I hurried toward him. “How about a glass of lemonade?” I knew I was being nicer than I should, probably giving him the idea I didn't mean what I'd said the last time we saw each other.

“Ach, Addie. How did you know what I needed?” he answered.

“How about you, Billy? Would you like a snack after you're done out here?”

He bent down to pick up a rock and tossed it above his head, catching it. For a moment I thought he might say something about the chest and Jonathan, but instead he tossed the rock toward the barn and then said, “Nah.” He headed around to the pony.