The Amish Seamstress (19 page)

“Over here, Izzy!” Ella hurried down the steps from the house's back door, waving with one hand and wiping the other on her apron. Her brown eyes shone as a tall, dark-haired man appeared from around the back and joined her—her husband, Luke, I was sure. As I came closer, I saw a pile of lumber behind the house and realized he was still holding a saw in his hand.

Ella surged toward me, giving me a hug. Zed had never mentioned Ella's pregnancy, neither in person nor in his letters, so I had assumed it was new news. But from the feel of her belly against me, she was further along than a few months, more like six or seven. Of course, it was rude to ask or even bring it up, so I held my tongue and kept my eyes on her face as we pulled apart.

“This is Luke,” she said, nodding toward him.

I'd heard he was handsome—but that was an understatement. Under his hat, black hair showed that matched his beard. His gray eyes smiled as he gave me a nod and took my bag from me. “Pleased to meet you.”

I nodded in return, repeating the sentiment. Luke seemed to be just as nice as Zed had told me he was.

“We'll put you downstairs,” Ella said. “We've moved Rosalee down too.” She nodded toward the pile of lumber. “Luke is building a ramp for when she's ready to come outside.”

The stairs were steep, which meant the ramp would need to have a switchback, or maybe two. Either way, it was a big job.

“Come on in,” Ella said, grabbing my hand. “I'm so glad you're here.” She seemed genuinely happy to have me.

As I climbed the steps and followed her into the kitchen, the smell of roasting chicken greeted me. I had forgotten what an incredible cook Ella was until that moment, and my stomach rumbled as I breathed in the scent. Luke disappeared down a hall with my bag, and she pulled
me around a large table and through an archway into the living room. “Rosalee is in here. She's so glad you were available to come out.”

Seated in a wheelchair facing the window was a woman with a quilt wrapped around her shoulders.

“Izzy's arrived,” Ella said, stopping beside the chair and leaning over a little.

For a moment I feared Rosalee was much more frail than I'd been led to believe, but then she put her hands on the wheels of the chair and, as Ella stepped backward, maneuvered it around by herself.

Rosalee's skin was nearly as pale as her white hair and
kapp
, but she appeared healthy otherwise, except for her right leg sticking out straight on a horizontal leg rest. “Welcome,” she said, her voice strong. She smiled then, a broad, friendly expression considering the trauma she'd recently endured.

We exchanged greetings, and she seemed nice enough. After that, Ella suggested I get settled in my room and then meet them back in the kitchen. “We'll eat in about ten minutes.”

I headed in the direction she told me, down the hall to the last door on the right. Halfway there, I turned back to see that Rosalee was stubbornly propelling her wheelchair toward the kitchen, despite Ella's offer of help. The older woman was having a bit of struggle, but I was still glad to see it. I doubted I'd have to encourage her to take responsibility for her independence as I cared for her.

When I reached my room, I saw that Luke had put my suitcase on the floor by the single bed. On the nightstand was an oil lamp I was tempted to use but decided I still had enough natural light—barely—to unpack my things. I hung my dresses on the pegs lining the wall opposite the bed and then placed my other things in the drawers of the small bureau. It took me only a few minutes. I stood at the window and peered out into the woods, overcome with a deep sense of yearning, wondering how long it would be until Zed could break away from his studies and come to see me. Today was a Monday, probably a busy day for him, so I hadn't expected him to be here when I arrived. Still, I hoped he wouldn't have to wait until the weekend before he could come.

Then again, I wasn't even sure if he knew I was here. It had all happened
so fast that there hadn't been time for me to write him about it. So unless he learned the news from Ella or his mother, he wouldn't have known. I considered asking Ella if she had said anything to him, but I didn't want to appear overeager, so I decided to hold my tongue and wait and see.

On the trip out, I'd studied the driver's map and calculated that Goshen College was only about twenty miles away from Nappanee and even closer, by a few miles, to the Home Place. That wasn't far at all, so I hoped to see him soon.

I raised the window a crack and made out the faint hum of Luke's saw and the fresh scent of the trees.

“Izzy?” Ella's footsteps followed her voice. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I'm fine. I'll be right there.” I closed the window, made sure the matches were where I could find them when I came back to my room, and headed down the hall to the kitchen, hoping Rosalee's smile had been genuine and that she was as healthy, except for her broken leg and hip, as everyone claimed.

That night after supper, I was about to help Ella with the dishes when Rosalee asked me to sit back down, saying she wanted to discuss something with me.

“I was hoping you can help me with a project. It has to do with my old family recipes.”

“Oh, I don't cook. I have a history of burning things. You should ask my
mamm
. Even she finally gave up on me.”

Rosalee chuckled. “That's not what I need help with. I've been wanting to organize my collection for a while. I thought this would be a good time to do it, and Ella said you might be able to help.”

I nodded. I'd much rather sort through recipes than cook from them.

She asked me to retrieve her recipe box, which was in the cupboard closest to the door. I did as she asked, noting the smooth, aged wood and rounded corners of the box as I carried it to her.

“Except for baking, I'm not too keen on cooking either,” Rosalee confided. “But my mother was, and she and my father made this for me as a wedding gift. He built the box and she filled it with the family recipes.”

“How lovely.”

“The recipes are special and need to be preserved. The problem is that they have become so old and faded over years. My thinking is that we will copy them over onto fresh cards, recipe by recipe. I assume your handwriting is legible?”

“Um, yes. Of course.”

“Good.” She pulled blank cards from the back of the box and then asked me to get two pens from the desk in the living room.

When I returned and settled back down at the table, she handed me a stack of recipes and another stack of blank cards. It seemed simple enough. Settling comfortably in my chair, I got to work, starting with the first card on the pile, which was for chowchow, a cabbage relish.

Just like Verna, Rosalee soon began telling stories from the past as we worked, her memory jogged by the various recipes for familiar dishes from her childhood. She told me about her parents, how they had met in Michigan when her
daed
was visiting there, and then after they had married they moved into the Home Place.

“The home my mother grew up in was much smaller than this but crowded with lots of children. She mourned not being able to fill this place with kids.”

“Oh?” I wrote as I listened.

“And then she was heartbroken when I didn't have any children either—nor remarry when my husband died.”

“Why didn't you?” I looked up from the card.

“I never felt led to.”

“
Ya
, I can understand that feeling.”

Ella laughed, turning toward me as she dried the Dutch oven. “Izzy, you're all of eighteen.”

“Nineteen.” I smiled at Ella. “But I've never been boy crazy like you were.”

Mortified, I clamped a hand over my mouth as soon as the words flew out. Thankfully, Ella just laughed. She didn't seem offended at all.

“Still,” she said, “how could you not want a husband and children? Rosalee, you wanted that, right?”

“Sure,” the older woman answered. “When I was young. But later I grew to accept that wasn't what God intended for me.”

“See, Izzy?” Ella said. “You'll change your tune soon enough. Once you meet the right man…”

Her voice trailed off as she put the Dutch oven away, and I was glad her back was to me, because I could feel heat rise in my cheeks. Little did she know, I
had
met the right man—and he was her little brother!

“But you've had a good life, haven't you?” I asked Rosalee.

“I've been content,
ya
. But I'm not embarrassed to admit I've also been lonely. And isolated, even as I've lived in the middle of a close community.” She pulled out another recipe.

I thought about that. If Zed and I didn't end up marrying, and if God's plan for me was to be single for life instead, at least I would never be isolated and lonely. I'd live with
Mamm
and
Daed
as long as I could. Then maybe whichever brother took over the farm would let me continue to live there, as Verna had done. As much as my siblings exhausted me, at least I had them.

“The truth is that I've been the happiest I've ever been since Ella moved in with me. Having her and Luke marry has been a double blessing, and then to have a baby soon in this old house, that's a triple blessing for sure. I'm amazed at God's goodness.” Rosalee looked at me, her eyes bright. “Do you know how long it's been since a baby has been in this house?”

I shook my head.

“Sixty-two years. Since
I
was a baby.” She poked at her chest with her index finger. “That's a long time.”

I smiled, but the truth was, I'd never been crazy about infants. I'd thought Stephen and Thomas were both sweet—although not cute—when they were born, but I wasn't overjoyed with taking care of them the way Sadie and Becky and Tabitha and even Linda were. Thankfully, I'd be gone before Ella had her baby.

I continued to help Rosalee with the recipes, copying ten of them before she became too tired to continue. Ella had joined us at the table, working with a calculator and doing accounts.

“I'll show you the nighttime routine,” she said, closing the book.

I swung Rosalee's wheelchair away from the table.

“You can push me down the hall,” she said. “It's still a little hard for me to manage without bumping into the wall.” We followed Ella.

Luke had already installed grab bars near the toilet and in the shower. The training I'd done in Lancaster had prepared me for taking care of Rosalee, including transferring her from the chair and helping her dress and undress. I hoped she had some handwork to do too, so I could focus on mine instead of copying recipes the whole time. I'd rather spend my days embroidering. Either way, I had enjoyed listening to Rosalee's stories, even if they didn't take place in Lancaster County and had nothing to do with my own ancestors or the period in history relevant to Zed's film.

An icy rain fell my second morning at the Home Place, but Luke was nearly finished making the ramp, so he continued to press on regardless. An hour or so after breakfast he was done, and when the rain finally stopped soon after that, he sprinkled salt over the slick boards and then told me to wheel Rosalee on out and give it a try. It was bitterly cold, so I bundled her up, put on my own cape and gloves, and carefully maneuvered her chair through the narrow doorway and into the mudroom. Then I turned it around and pulled it backward to get over the threshold of the back door and onto the ramp. Ella and Luke stood at the bottom, both smiling. Rosalee, grinning in return, clearly adored both of them.

As I took the first switchback along the ramp, Luke said to Rosalee, “In no time you'll be coming down this in the walker.”

She nodded. “But right now I'm enjoying my ride.”

Just as I reached the second switchback, a car started up the lane. I glanced up, squinting to see through the trees.

The car was red.

It was too far away to see if it was Zed's, but still my heart raced in anticipation. Could it possibly be him?

“Customer,” Rosalee called out, but Ella seemed in no hurry to get over to the bakery. She wanted to see Rosalee safely down to the bottom of this ramp first. Swallowing hard, I tried to focus on my charge as we continued our slow roll downward.

But from the corner of my eye, I saw that the car didn't turn in by the bakery. It continued up the driveway instead. I chanced another quick look at the car, which was closer now, and felt a warm rush at the sight of its familiar dents and pings. It was, indeed, Zed's little old red Saab.

I wanted to call out, jump up and down, or cry with joy.

He'd come as soon as he possibly could! Perhaps he'd even skipped class to do so!
That's what I felt inside, but on the outside I didn't dare give away the depth of my excitement to the others, especially Ella, who was no dummy and might put two and two together about my true feelings for her brother. Instead, as the car continued forward and then finally rolled to a stop, I focused on getting Rosalee safely down the ramp.