Adoring Addie (24 page)

I didn't go down to fix breakfast, and no one came up to demand I do so. Instead I arranged the pieces of wood on my bare floor, spelling out my name, and then sat on the end of my bed and stared at the letters.

After a while, I smelled bacon frying and then heard the clatter of dishes and the scrape of chairs against the floor. Aenti Nell must have taken over. I wondered if someone had cleared Mutter's mess or if they would eat around it.

I stood at the French doors as Daed and the boys headed out to the fields, Billy and Joe-Joe tagging along but then veering off toward the creek. After a while they appeared carrying fishing poles—new ones. They stopped in the backyard and held them up to me, and Billy shouted something I couldn't understand.

I opened the French doors but didn't step out onto the balcony. “What?” I called out.

“Jonathan left these for us,” Joe-Joe said.

“How do you know?”

Billy held his up higher. “Our names are carved on the handles along with the moon and stars.”

I gave them a thumbs-up, and they smiled, then turned
away toward the tool shed. A minute later they headed back toward the creek with a shovel, most likely to dig for worms.

After a while I heard footsteps on the stairs and then a soft rap on my door.

“Come in,” I said, expecting Aenti Nell.

It wasn't—it was Danny.

He stood in his stocking feet, his straw hat in his hands, his hair flat against his head. “Why didn't you wake me last night?”

“I tried. You wouldn't budge.”

“Didn't George come?”

I shook my head.

“Maybe his pickup wouldn't start—or something.”

I nodded.
Or something.
Maybe he'd decided I should give up on Jonathan and marry Phillip too.

Outside, Daed yelled for Timothy. Then he bellowed, “Danny!”

“You should get going,” I said.

“George does have an idea. . . . But he needs to reach Jonathan, run something by him. Do you have his number?”

“What's his plan?” I reached for my robe on the end of my bed.

“I'm not sure,” Danny said. “But we can't sit around and do nothing.” His face reddened. “Not you. I don't think there's any more you can do. But maybe George can do something. . . .”

I pulled the piece of paper from my robe and grabbed a small notebook and a pen from the bottom drawer of my dresser, quickly copying down the number in case I needed it.

“Here,” I said, handing the scrap to Danny as Daed yelled his name again. “It's his old boss's number. Jonathan said the man would get him a message right away.”

Danny clutched the paper and turned to go, waving his hat at me as he hurried from the room.

A few minutes later, Aenti Nell stepped into my room, brusque and businesslike, as if nothing had happened, holding a dishtowel in her hand. “Come on down and help your Mutter. She's been weepy all morning.”

“No wonder,” I said. “She did a terrible thing.”

“She knows what she did was wrong.”

I exhaled. “I'll believe that when she tells me.”

“You know she won't admit to it.” Aenti Nell headed for the door. “But still, she needs your help. She found another box she's going through.” She stepped into the hall, her voice trailing behind her. “The whole house is a mess. . . .”

I put my head in my hand. “I can't help her with this house any longer. I think I'm going to move to Big Valley.”

“With no money? No connections? No family?” She stepped closer to me. “Listen, Addie, we don't always get what we want in life. I know that better than anyone. But you make do. Besides, Jonathan was nothing but trouble.” She snapped the dishtowel in my direction. “Just like all those Mosiers. The more I hear about Dirk Mosier and see the problems he's created, the more thankful I am that neither your mother nor I married him. And you shouldn't be thinking about marrying a Mosier either. You're a Cramer—it's up to you to keep peace in this family. You could do a whole lot worse than”—I covered my ears with my hands, pressing the palms against my Kapp—“Phillip Eicher. . . .” She glared at me and threw up her hands.

“Aenti Nell,” I said, my hands still over my ears. “Why have you turned on me?”

“Why? Because you're pushing everyone to the brink.”

“You could go live with Mammi Gladys.”

Aenti Nell wrapped her arms around herself. “I'm afraid that's where Cap is going to send me if things don't get back to normal around here.”

I flinched but didn't verbally respond, and she stormed out of my room.

I walked to the French doors. The rain had stopped, and steam rose up from the manure pile by the barn. Daed and the boys headed to the pasture. Danny carried the posthole digger. Timothy followed him, his arm still in a sling. Daed turned around and lumbered back toward the barn, probably for another tool.

He didn't look angry at that moment. Just old. And tired.

I sighed and headed downstairs to help Mutter with her papers. This time she'd come across more old Plain magazines—some that were no longer in print. There were more school papers and certificates. One was hers, from over thirty years ago.

Of course she still wouldn't let me throw any of it away, so I took the whole mess up to the attic, where I doubted she would go again—not by herself anyway.

The boys all avoided me throughout the day—even Billy and Joe-Joe, except when they brought the three fish they'd caught in to be cleaned. Then they were happy for my help.

There was no mention of my birthday—not even at the evening meal. After I'd finished the supper dishes, I ventured out to the garden to weed. Thunderclouds billowed on the horizon again, and it looked as if we were due for another storm. When dusk began to fall, Daed ambled over from the porch where he and Timothy had been sitting.

“About done?” he asked.

“I thought I'd work until it's dark.”

He appeared suspicious. “You won't be able to see but for a few minutes more. Why don't you go on in.”

I pointed to the end of the row of carrots. “I just have a couple of feet to go. I think I'll get it done.”

He crossed his arms. “Then I'll say my piece out here.”

I stood straight and turned toward him, looking him straight in his tired, faded blue eyes.

“A child—especially a daughter—is meant to obey her parents. And honor them. You know what it says in Scripture.” His eyes narrowed. “I've had enough of your stubbornness. Maybe we've been too strict and this is your way of getting back at us. Maybe you think you could follow your Bruders' examples, but the truth is you've done far worse. None of them have betrayed your mother and me the way you have. It's time to stop. It's clear as mud.”

He paused for a moment as if waiting for me to respond to his nonsensical statement.

I didn't.

He continued. “I left a message for Phillip and the bishop. They'll be over in the morning. We'll all discuss your future then.”

I continued to stare at him, clenching my jaw as I did. Anything I said would only make it worse.

He turned toward the house, but then, over his shoulder, said, “You're not to go anywhere tonight. Come in as soon as you're done.”

I bit my tongue. Sure, I wanted to get to Big Valley, but not tonight.

I turned my attention back to the garden. It was completely dark when I reached the end of the last row. I leaned against the hoe for a moment, feeling sticky in the thick humidity, when I heard the rattle of a vehicle. Its headlights bounced up and down the lane.

It was George's truck. I waited until he parked to walk toward him.

He jumped out.

He spoke quietly but with excitement. “Danny left a message for me, with the number in Big Valley. I've taken care of everything. Jonathan's probably on his way back already.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Plus, I called Molly around noon and told her you were having a hard time, worse than Hannah even. That you weren't leaving the farm—barely leaving the house. And if Jonathan didn't come soon, I imagined you'd soon be hospitalized. I told her we're all afraid you might hurt yourself.”

“George.” My heart fell. “That's not true.”

“It doesn't matter. The whole county will think it is, including all the Mosiers. So eventually Jonathan's parents will hear it too. They'll realize how badly they've treated you and feel bad about it—don't you think?”

“No!”

“You don't think they'll feel bad?”

“No—they won't. It's a horrible plan.”

“Ach, Addie. It's working perfectly. Molly called up there to Jonathan too. He's frantic about you. He said he'd leave as soon as he could.”

“George, this is terrible.” What if something happened to Jonathan on his way down? What if he truly believed I was distraught, that I might harm myself?

“It's going to work, Addie. You'll see. I'm going to go talk to Onkel Bob and tell him Jonathan's on his way back, and I'll assume Dirk Mosier will soon follow. Onkel Bob can arrange a meeting with all the parents.”

I brushed a trickle of sweat from my temple. “Daed has Phillip Eicher and his Dat coming over in the morning.”

George grimaced. “Let me think about that.”

“And what about Timothy? Does he know Jonathan is coming back?”

“No.”

“But he will, right? If Molly and everyone else knows.”

Obviously George hadn't thought about that either. “I'll talk to him,” he said.

I shook my head. “That will only make it worse.”

“What will make it worse?” a voice behind me asked.

I spun around.

Timothy leaned against the tailgate of George's truck, his baseball cap on his head and a smirk on his face, the sling no longer on his arm.

I didn't answer him.

“No need to be evasive,” he said to me, “since you two aren't any good at being secretive. I heard you say the bit about Jonathan being on his way.” He rubbed his hands together. “But don't worry—I had a call about it earlier today. You're right, Addie, I am still out to get him. And I'll be waiting. . . .” He leaned back farther. “I'm guessing he'll come here first.”

I grabbed George's arm and pulled him toward the barn. “Call Molly and tell her to get a message to Jonathan. Tell him to stay put. I'll find a way to get to Big Valley.”

“Ach, Addie, you can't do that.” George's voice was louder than it needed to be. “You don't know anyone there.”

“You could take me,” I said. “Tonight. Please.”

“Please.” Timothy followed us, mocking me.

“Go away,” I hissed.

“Oh, I will,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “Straight to Daed.” He spun around and headed to the house.

“Now you've done it,” George said.

“What does it matter to you?”

“I was hoping to move home—you know, to save some money and join the church.” He blushed. “So Sadie and I can get married.”

I was thrilled, really, but the most I could muster was “Congratulations.”

“Jah, that's why I can't take you anywhere tonight. I can't jeopardize Dat not letting me move home.” He threw his keys up in the air, caught them, and turned back toward his pickup. Obviously his generosity had its limits. “I need to get going,” he said. “But I'll stop by Onkel Bob's and tell him what's going on.”

I sighed. He could do what he wanted. I just couldn't imagine what difference it would make in the long run.

I stepped from the dim kitchen into the dark living room, expecting that everyone had gone up to bed, but startled when Daed said my name. I squinted toward the couch. He and Timothy were sitting on opposite ends with Mutter in the middle.

“You're not to go anywhere tonight,” Daed said. “Do you understand?”

“Jah,” I answered, overcome with frustration.

“This is out of your hands,” Mutter added. “There's nothing you can do.”

“Jah,” Timothy chirped.

I fled to the stairs, away from all of them, up to my room. I lit my lamp and began pacing around and around. About ten minutes later, a knock came on my door. It wasn't Aenti Nell. It was Daed asking, “Are you in bed?”

“Getting there,” I said, trying to decide what I should do. Maybe I could hitchhike to Big Valley—but I would most likely pass Jonathan on the way. Maybe I could hitchhike to Molly's house. She would have an idea.

I grabbed a jacket, the flashlight from beside my bed, and my purse. I had the money Jonathan had returned to me—but that was all.

I extinguished the lamp and turned the knob slowly, pushing open the door as I did.

“Addie.” It was Daed's voice, coming from the floor of the hall.

I stepped back.