The Guardian (14 page)

M
aryanna didn’t have the heart to tell Tobias and Sarah in front of the Englischer that she wasn’t too keen on their singing worldly songs, even for the purpose of learning grammar. She was still mum on the subject when she set about clearing the table later with the help of Leda, as well as Jodi, of all people.

Then, when the dishes were in the soapy water, she finally went upstairs and brought down Sarah’s unfinished doll to show Jodi. “I marked where her features will go.” She pointed to the doll’s right wrist. “And the bracelet.”

Jodi glanced at her own wrist. “What will you use?”

“Tiny gold rickrack ought to work,” said Maryanna. “If I can find some at the Hickory Hollow General Store, that is.”

“Well, if you don’t, I’ll be glad to drive you to look elsewhere,” Jodi suggested.

“It’s very nice of you to offer,” Maryanna said to Jodi. “We’ll see what Preacher Yoder has on hand at his store.”

“Your minister works there?” Jodi seemed puzzled.

“We don’t have paid ministers,” Maryanna explained. “If a man is chosen by lot—by divine appointment—to become a deacon or a preacher, then he continues what he’s been doing for his livelihood.”

Jodi nodded as if she understood, but her greenish eyes studied Maryanna as if still taking in what she’d said.

“I’m sure it’s real different with your minister.”

Jodi looked slightly embarrassed. “Actually, I don’t attend church anymore.”

Maryanna was stunned. “Sorry to hear it.” She couldn’t imagine not going to Preaching, so central to the life of her family and community. She shooed the children out of the kitchen—outdoors—and held up the doll, looking it over. Then she handed it to Jodi. “What do ya think? Does she look like you?”

The Englischer scrutinized the doll closely, her eyebrows rising. “Sure … other than her Amish clothes.”

“Well, Sarah wants her to resemble you, but she also wants her to look Amish.”

“And what Sarah wants, she gets?” Jodi surprised her by saying.

“Ain’t that the truth!” Maryanna glanced out the window to see her sister Mollie and more of her family with her today. “Looks like Mollie’s here for her African violets. Come, you can meet the rest of her children.”

Jodi handed the doll back to her.

“Mollie’s gonna wonder ‘bout this doll, let me tell ya,” Maryanna said, placing it on the hutch across from the table.

Smiling, Jodi followed her outside. And as they hurried to greet Mollie—all four of her girls had squeezed into the carriage this time—Maryanna could feel in her bones that the brunette woman had been sent their way for a reason.

Joshua Peachey had never seen anything like it, and he told his neighbors so when Paul Hostetler and Nate Kurtz dropped
by to help him get things ready for church tomorrow. Hot as it had been, it was a better idea to set up the church benches in the barn than the house.

“Just look over there,” Joshua said as he pointed to Maryanna Esh’s place, where the Englischer was sitting in the gazebo with a whole bunch of children, mostly girls.

“Who is the brunette woman, and what’s she doin’?” asked Paul, moseying over nosy-like toward the horse fence separating Joshua’s driveway from the paddock.

“‘Tis the young woman who found Sarah and brought her home to us,” Joshua said. “Er … to her mother.” He felt his face flush red, but neither of the men caught it while gawking at the sight across the pasture.

“Looks like she’s teaching them something,” Paul said.

Nate mumbled something indistinct.

“Wonder where Maryanna and her parents are,” Paul added.

Joshua wasn’t about to say he’d seen Maryanna at her folks’ place not long ago, while he was out pulling weeds along the side of his house. Things there were getting out of hand, and his wilting flowers looked pitiful.

“Doubt Zeke and Emmie know,” Nate said.

Joshua smiled. “Oh, but they must,” he insisted. “Mollie drove in with her girls just a few minutes ago.”

Now Paul turned to cast a searching look at him before leaning on the fence again, seeming lost in thought. Nate, however, still faced the Esh farm.

“Are either of you planning to run in the Bird-in-Hand Half Marathon?” asked Joshua, suddenly feeling a need to direct the subject away from his neighbor.

“My son Michael might,” Paul said. “But not me. Not since I broke my foot.”

“Might limber it up,” Nate said, offering a rare grin. And finally both men moved away from the fence.

“Guess we should get started before the bench wagon arrives.” Joshua motioned and they made their way toward the barn, ready for the big job. Before heading inside, Joshua stole one more glance over yonder, wondering what Maryanna was up to, and why she was this friendly with the Englischer.
Isn’t like her.

The fancy woman might have carried Sarah home to the People, and for that they were obliged, but if Maryanna wasn’t careful, this same Englischer might just carry Sarah right out of the church … one day.

Jodi was pleased at the children’s attention and wholehearted interest in learning. She was surprised, too, that Maryanna didn’t seem to mind this impromptu gathering in the white gazebo near the large oak tree. It had been Toby and Sarah’s idea, and their excitement had been contagious. The older girls had carried worn blankets and spread them on the wooden floor, and Benny had mentioned his mother would bring snacks out later.

“Let’s practice arithmetic,” Benny said, nudging Fannie on one side and Fannie’s younger sister, Ellie, on the other.

The other sister, the youngest of the four girls, was a few years older than Sarah, from what Jodi could tell. Darla and Sarah could easily pass for siblings, they looked so much alike. Even as first cousins, they were clearly tuned in to each other’s way of thinking—and as sparkling and eager as any students Jodi had taught.

“Do you have any flash cards?” Jodi asked.

“Just at the schoolhouse,” Benny said, raising his hand before he spoke.

“We’re not in class,” Leda said, laughing.

“I almost forgot,” Benny replied.

Jodi had an idea and began to go around, starting with the youngest children and giving easy addition questions to review. “Darla, what’s two plus three?”

“Five,” the little girl said, looking at Sarah, who was trying to fit in despite the language barrier.

“Two plus seven?” Jodi asked Ellie.

“Nine,” the slightly older girl said.

Working around the circle, she gave the easy problems more quickly now, turning it into a game as she decided to time them, too. She moved on to ask who could say first how many inches were in a yard and other units of measurement.

“Let’s sing our song—the one you taught us before,” Toby said later, hopping up and speaking to Sarah in Deitsch, no doubt asking her to join him.

But Sarah frowned and shook her head at him, cousin Darla’s hand still clasped in hers.

Toby launched into Deitsch again, apparently attempting to persuade Sarah to change her mind. But by her flashing eyes, she wouldn’t hear of it.

Suddenly, little Sarah pointed directly at Jodi. “
Du …
Jodi
singe!
”

“She wants
you
to sing,” Leda said, though this time Jodi needed no translation.

“All right,” Jodi agreed. “Do you know ‘America the Beautiful’?”

The children shook their heads but leaned forward like young birds reaching for sustenance, their interest firing Jodi’s own enthusiasm. So she took a deep breath and began to
sing, and noticed Maryanna at the screen door, watching cautiously.

Am I stepping out of bounds?

––

“She must be singing an English song,” Maryanna said to Mollie as she observed Jodi Winfield. “Never heard it before.”

Mollie set down her mending and joined her at the back door. “Me neither.”

Maryanna couldn’t help noticing the children’s attentiveness. “Have you ever seen the likes of this?”

“‘Tis mighty curious, I’ll say.”

“A true teacher has a gift from God, Ella Mae always says.”

Mollie touched her arm. “Even an Englischer teacher?”

Maryanna paused as she saw how enthralled little Sarah was by Jodi. “I pray I wasn’t wrong to invite her back.”

“You wanted to thank her, is all.”

“Even so.”

“Time will tell, sister,” Mollie said.

As she continued to watch, Maryanna mulled over the conversation she’d had with Daed and Mamm. Was this association with Jodi feeding into Sarah’s apparent curiosity for the English world, fueling what could become a problem?

Have I erred in judgment, Lord?

It occurred to Maryanna that if she could rein in her youngest, her parents might leave her be about remarrying. She smiled at that. For one thing, her best efforts weren’t working, and even if they were, she doubted her parents would
ever
let up.

Truth be told, Maryanna knew it wasn’t just Sarah who needed the firm yet loving hand of a stepfather, but also Benny, Leda, and Tobias. She sighed so heavily that Mollie asked if she was all right.

J
odi noticed Maryanna step onto the back porch, her face shiny with perspiration.

“Would ya like to stay and eat with us, Jodi?” Maryanna asked.

The sun was creeping closer to the housetop, shining through the slats on the gazebo’s roof and into the children’s eyes. None of them had complained of the heat, but Jodi was quite aware of it dressed in Paige’s long skirt.

“Thanks, Maryanna, but you really don’t have to invite me again.”

“Well, most of the children have come in to whisper to me, askin’.”

Jodi looked into their adorable smiling faces and noticed Toby appeared particularly mischievous. “So
that’s
what you’ve been up to, sneaking off one by one!”

The older children grinned sheepishly. “We like havin’ ya here,” Toby said softly, and the others nodded their heads.

“I’m enjoying myself, too.” Jodi was surprised when shy Fannie leaned against her and looked up with her big eyes. “Thank you—it looks like I’ll be staying for dinner,” she
added to Maryanna, who nodded before walking back into the house.

“We’ll hurry with our afternoon chores—and polishing all the shoes for Preachin’ tomorrow,” Benny said, explaining before Jodi asked.

“I don’t want to keep you from your work.” Jodi slipped her arm around Sarah, who’d managed to burrow under Jodi’s elbow.

“Joshua Peachey’s hostin’ church tomorrow, and his flower beds are all schlappich
,
” Tobias announced.

“Us girls should slip over there,” Leda said. “While Joshua and the men set up the church benches.”

“
We,
” Benny said, looking to Jodi for approval. “Take ‘girls’ out of the sentence and what do ya have?
Us
should slip over there… .” He laughed and gave Toby a high five.

“When did you get so schmaert?” Bertie asked, giggling.

Benny replied, “I went and found some of my old school papers, that’s what.”

“Why? Just ‘cause Jodi was comin’ today?” Toby teased.

Jodi stifled a laugh.

Benny wisely changed the subject. “Mamma still has some blue fan flowers and red and white geraniums in the greenhouse you girls could plant over there.”

“
Gut
idea!” Leda said, clapping her hands.

“Better ask first,” Benny chided.

It certainly sounded as though the neighbor’s flower beds needed some attention. Apparently nothing was too insignificant to be overlooked when preparing to host church at one’s house.
What a major undertaking that must be!

“Will ya come, too, Jodi?” Leda asked, her eyes pleading.

“If your mother doesn’t mind.” Jodi wanted to be sensitive to Maryanna’s wishes.

“Oh, she won’t.” Toby stood right up. “Mamma’d prob’ly go and redd up Joshua’s garden herself, but his pets annoy her somethin’ awful.”

“And that ain’t all,” Benny whispered, eyes flashing.

Leda gave him a stern look. “Best be still!”

“Ach, you too,” Toby replied.

Jodi found the cryptic talk interesting and wondered what else besides his pets annoyed Maryanna about the mysterious Joshua.

––

Jodi offered to help with the dishes so Leda, Sarah, and their cousins could run over to plant flowers at Joshua’s, once they’d asked permission. Maryanna hesitated so long about it that Jodi could practically see the wheels turning. Eventually, Maryanna agreed. “Since it’s for the Preaching service,” she said, not blinking an eye.

But when the girls begged for Jodi to go over and help, Maryanna stepped in. “It’s the hottest time of the day, for pity’s sake.”

Jodi went along with Maryanna’s wishes, since she was a guest. Maryanna said no more about the widower Joshua Peachey, which only served to pique Jodi’s attention.

Drying dishes the old-fashioned way, with an embroidered tea towel, took Jodi back to occasional visits with Karen to see their great-aunt Leora, who’d never married. Leora had also never bothered to purchase a dishwasher, not even after she moved into a smaller house on the outskirts of Rutland when she eventually retired from teaching. The long dirt driveway up to Leora’s white-frame two-story house was a magical recollection—a green passageway through overhanging trees and brushwood. An abandoned woodshed stood on the left, and on the right there was a small brick structure where, long
ago, a slow fire had dried up to five bushels of apples at a time on wooden racks.

The memory of hot, sticky days came back to her, and Jodi recalled picking blackberries in the rain, getting thoroughly drenched. Karen had laughed and danced in the downpour, flinging her auburn hair about, just as pleased with the wet weather as their great-aunt, who also harvested her garlic in the rain, taking it indoors to her laundry room to hang and dry.

Finishing up with the pots and pans now, Jodi wished Benny had left the big fan he’d brought in for the meal but promptly took to the cellar afterward. Still, she assumed it must be even hotter with the horses and other livestock.

“You’ve stirred up some excitement for book learnin’ round here … and before school starts, yet,” Maryanna said unexpectedly. “Benny was in his room looking over last year’s schoolwork last evening. I happened upon him long after he should’ve been in bed.”

Jodi was happy to hear it.

“Toby, too, talked ‘bout paying more attention to his grammar and workin’ on speaking correctly.”

“They’re really wonderful boys, Maryanna. You must be very proud of them—and your girls, too.”

“Ach, not as proud as I am glad they’re mentally fit and healthy in body.” Maryanna admitted she’d nearly held her breath during her pregnancies, praying daily that each of her children would be born hale and hearty.

Jodi listened as she stacked the plates where Maryanna instructed. “That’s something every parent wants,” she said.

“As you can tell, Mollie’s girl Bertie is a special child. And there are a few other children on my side of the family who are also affected by genetic diseases.” Maryanna sighed. “‘Tis awful sad … and hard to take, at times.”

“No wonder you’re glad yours are healthy in every way.”

“It’s not something my husband and I ever took lightly. We understood that our children were at risk for the same disorder as Bertie—other things, too. Each time we had another baby, we believed it was a miracle that he or she was fine. Sooner or later, we thought the odds would be against us.” Maryanna paused and put her hand on her chest.

“So, with little Sarah, we again prayed for the divine provision of health, that we’d be blessed with another healthy child. And when she was born, Benuel and I felt a tremendous sense of relief that once more God had answered prayer.”

Jodi’s neck muscles tightened.
Answered prayer—there it is again.

Yet God had allowed
her
only sibling to die. Why?
How could a loving heavenly Father deny what an earthly father would gladly give?
In light of Maryanna’s remarks, these lingering questions tormented Jodi.

“Of course, there are other couples amongst us who’ve also prayed for healthy babies, but their little ones have serious, even fatal diseases,” Maryanna added while rinsing one of the pots. “‘Tis not for us to understand.”

“My sister suffered terribly with leukemia,” Jodi said, testing the waters. “Died of it.”

Maryanna looked stunned. “Oh … I’m so sorry. Was it recent?”

“Six months ago, but it seems like last week.” Then, taking a deep breath, Jodi told Maryanna the whole story, struggling to maintain her composure. She described the initial tests, the days at the hospital, the rounds of treatment, and the endless prayers. All for nothing.

Maryanna was quiet for a moment. “I can’t imagine losing a sister.”

“Well … I can’t imagine losing a daughter,” Jodi said, thinking of Sarah. “And so I can’t bear the thought of taking that risk … by having a baby someday.”

“Grieving takes plenty of time.” Maryanna’s eyes shone with tears. “But we Amish believe children are a blessing.”

Jodi nodded. Despite the gulf in their backgrounds, she felt a connection to Maryanna, as if it was safe to share her heart with her. “Unfortunately, my fiance and I have recently come to disagree on having children,” she said quietly, looking toward the window. “It’s becoming a problem.”

“Aw, dear girl, no wonder you’re upset… .” Rinsing her hands, Maryanna dried them and motioned Jodi over to the table. “Come sit.”

Jodi followed, feeling so hot she could hardly breathe.

“You’re betrothed to this man?” Maryanna folded her hands on the table.

“Yes.”

Maryanna’s eyes searched hers. “Might this alter your commitment to marry?”

“All I know is we’ll have to work things out,” Jodi said.

“And your young man—where does he live?”

She told her about Trent’s plan to work overseas for the next school year. “Might actually be a good thing, considering this.”

“You do love him, don’t you?”

“Absolutely—he’s my other half. Now that my sister’s gone, Trent’s the dearest person on earth to me.” Jodi breathed deeply. “I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“Well, he must be just wonderful”—Maryanna smiled—“if he’s anything like you.”

Jodi felt her face redden at the unsought affirmation, so like something her sister might have said.

“Getting back to the question of having children, I daresay that’s one issue where things boil down to sheer trust in our heavenly Father. I honestly don’t know any other way to peace.”

“Or maybe just not having kids, right?” Jodi forced a laugh.

Maryanna smiled across the table. “Some might think so, I s’pose. But having our babies only deepened Benuel’s and my marriage. We blended our love for each other and spread it to our children.”

Jodi absorbed this. While her doubts remained, she’d never heard anyone describe it quite that way before. Maryanna had certainly given her a lot to think about. And for this she was glad, even thankful.