Patchwork Dreams (4 page)

“Ach, sorry.” Daniel came over and lifted a plastic lid off of one of the buckets. “Coke.” He picked up a piece of burned charcoal and pointed to some white pieces mixed in with the black, saying something about keeping it moist and needing it to keep the fire at a certain temperature. Information Jacob didn’t understand and couldn’t see himself needing to know. After all, apple orchards were in his future. Not a blacksmith shop.

Instead of listening to Daniel as closely as he should have, he thought instead of Susie, and his daed, and Mamm. His older brothers were all married with children, and they all worked on the farm with Daed. Jacob frowned. Mamm had always said that when Jacob married, she and Daed would move into the vacant dawdi-haus and let Jacob and his frau have the main house. After all, the family should be together. The way God intended it to be.

Jacob kicked at a clump of black coal on the black gravel floor. This shop was a stinky mess. It smelled like smoke, but the odor was different from the annoying odor of cigarettes. This was heavier and thicker; it seemed to permeate everything.

He couldn’t wait to get home and farm the nice, clean earth.

But then, there was fire. Jacob watched the flames, fascinated, as he cranked the handle on the forge that Daniel told him to turn in a slow, steady manner while he dumped a bucket of coal around the fire that he’d begun with wood and crumpled paper. The coal made a dome around two sides of the fire.

“There, listen to that. Hear the roar of the fire? That’s what we’re looking for.”

***

Becky hoisted the laundry basket and the pail full of clothespins before hurrying outside to the clothesline. She shivered in the cold wind, wishing they could dry the clothes inside like some of their Englisch neighbors. After placing her load on the ground, she reached for a pretty little pink dress belonging to her four-year-old sister, Mary. Becky missed wearing the beautiful, bright colors permitted for little girls. She glanced down at her dark maroon dress, more suited for hard, potentially dirty work.

At least she could enjoy the colorfulness of the quilts the women made. The tumbling block pattern on Becky’s bed featured various shades of blue, her favorite color. A double wedding ring quilt in lavender and purple covered her parents’ bed. She wondered what Jacob thought of the quilt she had spread across his bed. It was a log cabin pattern, and she’d helped to make it. It was supposed to have gone into her hope chest.

No point in letting her thoughts go there. She forced her attention back to her task.

Men’s voices carried on the breeze, but she couldn’t understand the words. She glanced toward the shop where Daed and Jacob worked. A couple of cars and buggies were parked outside the small, open building. Maybe they were customers needing some blacksmith work. Or maybe they’d come to shoot the breeze. She knew Daed had a lot of fun out in his shop, and sometimes it seemed like the local hangout.

She picked up another dress—a bluish-gray one of her mother’s—and shook it out. What did Jacob think of their community? How did it compare to his own in Pennsylvania? More snow up north, maybe. But wouldn’t one district be pretty much the same as the next? She shrugged and deliberately pushed Jacob out of her mind, turning her attention to other chores that required her attention.

Mamm needed a fruit cobbler to take to quilting on Monday, so Becky figured she’d make two. Her sisters and Daed wouldn’t be happy if she didn’t provide one for them to enjoy. She’d need to make the cobblers today, Saturday, as Sunday was a day set aside for the Lord and for family. The kitchen floor really needed to be scrubbed. Probably after she’d made the cobblers. Mary and Abbie would likely want to help with the baking, and the floor, table, and chairs would be sticky when they finished.

Becky hung up the last dress and then hurried toward the house, eager to start the rest of the day’s work.

Maybe, if she finished quickly, she could go visit her friend Annie and tell her about Jacob from Pennsylvania.

Jacob stared at the fire he’d finally managed to build according to Daniel’s specifications. Daniel’s lecture about the all-important blacksmith fire that he’d fed Jacob seemed to dissolve as fast as the sparks in front of him. He didn’t believe for a moment he’d remember a word of it tomorrow. But then, maybe the old idiom was true that a burned hand teaches best. He glared down at his sore, reddened fingers. Not that they’d been burned yet. Daniel had warned him that there is no such thing as a first-degree burn in a blacksmith shop. It would be either second or third degree. Neither appealed to him. He would have to remember to wear his work gloves.

Daniel showed him how to heat the metal, holding it in the fire. “You want an orange-red color, because that is the temperature that is best to work with. Any hotter will melt the metal.” He nodded with satisfaction at the color on the tip of the metal piece he held, then picked up a farrier’s hammer. “See how this is flat on one side? I like using this type the best, because I can get it more even.” He laid the metal piece on an anvil, pounded a few times with a clanging sound, then reheated the metal. He handed the hammer to Jacob. “You give it a try.”

Jacob swung the hammer a few times, stopping when Daniel told him to reheat the metal. Finally, Daniel stopped and examined it.

“Ser gut. Now, dip it into this solution. This will harden it up. It is a mixture of blue Dawn dish soap, salt, and water. I’ll show you how to make it in a few days.”

Jacob dipped it in the solution, watching as the hot metal sizzled.

“Gut. Now, dip it in that barrel of rainwater.” Daniel pointed to another black bucket in the corner of the room.

Jacob’s family didn’t do any blacksmith work. They took broken buggies down to old Mose, who’d been in the business for years. Everyone in their district went to Mose. But here, the popular blacksmith seemed to be Cousin Daniel.

While Daniel might have been up to the challenge of both teaching the job and doing the work, Jacob wasn’t up to learning it and doing it. His head hurt. The thick smoke clung to the insides of his throat and lungs, making him feel strangled.

Wasn’t this black coal stuff the thing that caused disease in miners and killed them? Maybe Daniel should be providing him with a breathing mask and oxygen tanks. Jacob coughed.

Daniel heated something and grabbed the hammer, swinging it down, talking all the while. The words seemed to go over Jacob’s head. In one ear and out the other. Or, nein, maybe they got stuck in his brain and swirled around in a bunch of confusing nonsense.

The seemingly constant clanging as they pounded a piece of orange-red metal on the anvil got on his last nerve, and Jacob dashed toward the open shed door and fresh air. Pure, cold, invigorating air. He gulped it in, praying that the headache would depart. He rolled his neck and tried to rub the tension out of his temples.

Would he ever grasp this?

At that moment, he thought not.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of clothes flapping on the line in the wind. He turned in that direction, hoping to catch the attention of whoever was hanging them. Maybe she’d be kind enough to fetch him a glass of cold water to quench his parched throat. But no one moved near the clothesline. Apparently, whoever had done the laundry had already gone inside.

Daniel poked his head out of the doorway of the shed. “Jacob?”

Jacob cleared his throat. “I need a glass of water. I’ll be right back.”

“Water. Jah. If you’re getting frustrated, you need a break. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Daniel grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it.”

Jacob thought the “You’ll get it” was in reference to his new job as a blacksmith apprentice, but he wasn’t sure. And he didn’t ask. Instead, he nodded and headed toward the house. He could have gotten a sip from the outside pump, but he bypassed it in favor of a full glass from the kitchen. He was further enticed by the thought of the sweet scent of baked goods that lingered there. At home, the kitchen always smelled like cinnamon. Mamm specialized in apple cinnamon treats, as they always had apples in abundance. After all, they couldn’t sell the bruised, wormy, bird-pecked, or misshapen ones. So, they were used in baking.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of apple fritters as he went up the porch steps.

It still seemed strange to open the door of someone else’s house and walk in, but since he was living here for the time being, he decided he’d better get used to it. After closing the door behind him and taking a few steps inside, he stopped to sniff and smelled a strong, lemon-scented cleaner mixed with something sweet. His stomach rumbled. Then a small sound akin to a whimper caught his attention, and he looked down to see Becky, kneeling in the entryway, a rag in her hands and a bucket of soapy water by her side.

Jacob swallowed, hoping he hadn’t tracked dirt inside. Had he stepped where she’d already scrubbed, or was she getting ready to wash that area? He didn’t know. Either way, it wasn’t good.

He stepped back, deciding to tease about it. “It’s okay, Bex. You don’t need to bow to me.”

Her eyes widened, but he didn’t get the smile he’d hoped for. Her lips didn’t even twitch. “Bex?” Her voice came out in a squeak. “Bow?”

Jacob grinned. “You are too cute. I just want a glass of water. I’ll be out of your way in a moment.”

***

Becky watched Jacob as he stepped around her and went to the gas-powered refrigerator for a pitcher of cold water, then to the cupboard for a glass. Nobody had ever called her “Bex” before. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She wanted to dislike it. But she did like something about the implied familiarity, the sound of her name tumbling off his lips in that carefree way.

And telling her she was “too cute”? What did that mean? Did he find her attractive? Or did he mean it as someone might describe one of those stray tomcats that are so ugly they’re cute? Was he referring to the newborn puppy sort of cute? She wanted to ask. But her courage fled even as she considered voicing her question.

Why bother asking? He’d hesitate to tell her if it was negative.

He turned to face her as he downed the liquid in one long gulp, then set the glass in the sink. With a wink, he stepped around her again. “Smells gut in here. You’ll be a gut frau someday.” The door closed solidly behind him.

That wink had sent her nerves sizzling with hopefulness.

She gave herself a mental shaking as tears burned her eyes. She’d never be a good wife. Maybe a mother’s helper. Everyone knew she was destined to be an old maid. She hoped he hadn’t intended to be unkind. Maybe he didn’t realize how hurtful his words were.

Becky blinked the moisture away. She needed to focus on her task, not her situation.

She finished scrubbing the floor, then took the cobblers out of the oven. They were done to perfection, lightly browned, and smelled delicious. She set them on the counter, glanced at her sleeping boppli in the cradle in the corner, and went looking for Mamm.

Becky found her browsing through a seed catalog.

She looked up at Becky and smiled. “This came in the mail a while back. Since I didn’t have a chance to look at it then, I decided to take a short break. Kum join me?”

It always seemed odd to Becky that the catalogs came in the mail the first few weeks of January, too soon to think about gardening. But they’d be starting seedlings in the greenhouse in the next several weeks so that the Englisch could be supplied with tomatoes, peppers, and other vegetables and fruit ready to plant. Not only Englisch. The Amish took advantage of them, too.

“What do you think of this, Becky?”

Becky sat next to Mamm and glanced at the picture of an heirloom tomato and read a shortened version of the description. “A type of yellow fruit, known for its sweetness.”

“Sounds gut to me. But yellow tomatoes don’t sell as well as red.”

Mamm lifted a shoulder. “We’ll keep it for ourselves.”

“Jah.” That would work. “Do you need me for anything else, or can I go visit Annie for a spell?”

“Maybe after lunch. Can you help Katie with the mending?”

Her shoulders sagged. Annie would have to wait. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Jah. That’ll be fine.”

***

The morning crawled by as if in slow motion. Daniel patiently tried to talk Jacob through problems, but most of the time Jacob felt hinnersich. Still, this was his first day as a blacksmith apprentice—a career he never wanted. Maybe he’d have more appreciation for Mose when he returned home.

But there was something mesmerizing about pounding the hot metal into shapes and watching the forms appear that Daniel wanted.

The clanging of the dinner bell coming from the house signaled a welcome break. Jacob looked forward to whatever Becky had been baking when he’d been in the kitchen earlier.

When he came in, the table was already laden with bread-and-butter pickles, chowchow, jams, fresh baked bread, and pickled eggs. One of the girls—her name escaped him, but she looked about twelve—was just finishing setting the table.

Jacob followed Daniel to the washbasin, watching out of the corner of his eye for Becky. She wasn’t anywhere in the room. Probably taking care of her boppli.

Funny how her situation upset his stomach. He needed to pray for her—and the man who had wronged her.

Jacob sat down at the table, his hands on his lap, watching the women bustle to load more food onto the table—Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and corn. They’d no sooner placed the last serving dish on the table when Becky hurried in, skirts swirling—though he tried not to notice—and slid into her chair, bowing her head for the silent prayer.

Jacob followed suit. At least with his head bowed he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t notice her.

If only she’d smile.

He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes, forcing his focus away from the woman sitting across from him and onto the Holy One who deserved his undying devotion. Jacob offered up thanks for the bounty in front of him, adding a plea for help for Becky.

And for a measure of wisdom for him. There must be some way to tease a smile out of her.