The Timepiece Page 11

  “Well, it’s wunnerbaar to officially meet ya, Adeline—and what a perty name,” Ella Mae said, smiling up at her and Sylvia. “As for the grapevine, what can ya expect when there’s potential for a scandal?”

  Adeline smiled, but Sylvia didn’t know what to say. Leave it to Ella Mae to make a joke. . . .

  Straight-faced, Ella Mae continued, “’Tis human nature, ya know. We Amish ain’t perfect.” She smiled again, this time at Adeline. “Are ya havin’ a pleasant visit so far?”

  Adeline confirmed that she was. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs.—”

  “Ach, chust call me Ella Mae. No need to be so formal when I’m an old widow lady.”

  Looking out at the sky and seeing the rain beginning to subside, Sylvia asked, “Are ya waitin’ for your driver? If so, we can help you out with your groceries.”

  Ella Mae shook her head. “Actually, my daughter dropped me off while she went to Quarryville to take some sewing to a customer, so I’ll just sit here and wait for her to mosey on back.”

  “I’m glad we saw ya,” Sylvia said. “Adeline really wanted to be introduced.”

  “Well then, why don’t you come to Preaching with Sylvia’s family on Sunday?” Ella Mae suggested, blue eyes brightening. “Maybe I’ll get to talk with ya again, Adeline.”

  Sylvia nodded and turned to Adeline. “Of course, you’re welcome to join us if ya want to.”

  “We’ll see,” Adeline answered. Then she added, “I enjoyed meeting you, Ella Mae.”

  “Hold your head high, dearie,” the Wise Woman said to her, looking more serious now. “You have an extraordinary family in Hickory Hollow, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.”

  With Dat’s shunning still so fresh, hearing that made Sylvia fight back tears. What a thoughtful thing to say!

  CHAPTER

  seventeen

  I’m glad ya met Ella Mae,” Sylvia said as they walked across the parking lot to Adeline’s car. The rain had slowed to a sprinkle now, and the sun was already making an attempt to peek through the diminishing cloud cover.

  “She’s just like I imagined her.” Adeline unloaded the canned goods into her trunk with help from Sylvia, then closed it.

  Sylvia was ever so curious. “What do you mean?”

  Adeline paused a moment. “Well, she looks like everyone else in your community, as far as being Amish. But there’s something about her eyes.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the way she looks at you . . . makes you feel accepted.”

  Sylvia was touched by Adeline’s assessment. She was right: It wasn’t just that Ella Mae was wise—her appeal was also in how she made you feel.

  “I know what ya mean.” Sylvia wondered how it must look for her to climb into the sporty fire red Camaro dressed in her traditional Amish garb. Quite a contrast! she thought wryly.

  Adeline hurried off to return the grocery cart as Sylvia fastened the seatbelt. And in that moment, recalling Ella Mae’s nonchalant remarks, Sylvia realized she didn’t care how Adeline’s relationship with her and her family might look. If the Wise Woman can make light of the gossip about Adeline’s relationship to Dat . . . why should I fret?

  A beautiful rainbow was visible during the trip back through Bird-in-Hand and up toward the village of Intercourse. After they had taken the Y to the left to stay on Route 340, they turned south onto Cattail Road, past the Amish schoolhouse on the left. Then they took the right-hand fork and drove past the old waterwheel on the right.

  “You’re starting to find your way around, jah?”

  “I’m getting there.”

  There was a lull in the conversation, after which Sylvia said, “I meant what I said . . . if ya want to go to church with us on Sunday, we’d be happy to have ya.”

  Adeline hesitated, then caught Sylvia’s eye. “It’s just that I rarely attend church,” she said politely.

  Sylvia almost didn’t know how to respond to that—not going to church was unthinkable in Hickory Hollow. Sylvia wondered how she could phrase things so that Adeline wouldn’t feel put off. “For us, it’s a way to worship with those we love . . . encourage each other on this life journey.”

  Adeline nodded. “Right, but it’s all related to God, isn’t it?”

  “Sure, but goin’ to Preaching service also means learnin’ how to live and make good choices.” She mentioned their church ordinance, the Ordnung, which laid out the rules for their community life. “Church really is central to everything we Amish do.”

  Adeline seemed stumped by this. “I’m sorry. This is so foreign to me. You must think I’m a pagan.”

  “We were raised worlds apart,” Sylvia said at last.

  “That’s very apparent,” Adeline agreed.

  Sylvia felt sorry for Adeline in that moment—she was missing out on one of the most important things in life.

  When they pulled into the driveway, Calvin and Tommy waved at them from the narrow petunia garden along the back walkway, where they were weeding. “I wonder why they’re doin’ the work Mamma likes to do,” Sylvia said as she got out and motioned for them to help carry in the bags of canned goods.

  Calvin went over to the well pump to rinse off his hands, but Tommy stood there, staring at Adeline’s car. “Must be fun to ride in it,” he said, stroking the side near one of the rear tires.

  “I’ll take you for a ride, if you’d like,” Adeline offered.

  “Sure! That is, if Dat lets me,” Tommy said, going now to the well pump to clean his hands, too. Then, drying them on his work pants, he hurried to the trunk to help Calvin.

  Sylvia didn’t know what to think of her little brother’s interest, but she figured that if Tommy really wanted to, Dat might just let him. She carried a large bag of mushroom soup cans into the house.

  In the kitchen, she found Mamma baking a batch of sticky buns to sell at their roadside stand. And, while organizing the canned goods in the large pantry, Sylvia overheard Tommy talking to Adeline again. From what she could tell, he and Calvin had plans for her in the barn, once they were finished unloading.

  “It’ll be an adventure,” Calvin said, his voice sounding enthusiastic.

  “Tell me more,” Adeline encouraged him.

  “Well, you’ll have to wear Sylvia’s old work boots,” Calvin said as he came to hand two more grocery bags to Sylvia in the pantry.

  “And a kerchief on your head,” Tommy added, his face beaming.

  “If work boots and a kerchief equals adventure, then I’m in,” Adeline said, laughing merrily.

  It sounded so good to hear her laugh, Sylvia thought, hurrying to keep up with her brothers now. We’ve come a long way in a few days, she thought, beginning to see that a relationship with Adeline might offer more positives than negatives. Even if an Englischer half sister isn’t something I would’ve asked for!

  Not in a million years would Adeline ever have imagined herself standing in an Amish barn, or any barn, waiting to touch a cow’s udder with her bare hands. Following Tommy’s instruction, she stood back at a respectful distance from the cow while Calvin secured Flossie’s head in the single stanchion. Then Calvin gave the cow some hay to munch on as he pulled up a wooden stool to sit on while washing her udder and teats.

  Tommy quietly gave Adeline the play-by-play as the two of them slowly inched toward the cow. “It’s important not to upset Flossie, or her milk won’t come down.”

  Adeline nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Tommy quickly raised a finger to his mouth.

  “Don’t say anything,” he explained. “Flossie doesn’t know your voice.”

  Staying quiet isn’t my strong suit, she thought as she watched Calvin place the clean milk bucket under the cow, then massage the teats. He demonstrated how Adeline was to squeeze and pull straight down, and after a few rhythmic pulls, he stopped and moved off the stool to let her try. “Your turn,” Calvin said quietly. “Always stay to her side here, so ya don’t get kicked. It’s no picnic, trust me.”

  Adeline followed direc
tions, feeling totally out of her league. Yet if young kids like Calvin or Tommy could milk a cow, why couldn’t she? Placing her hands exactly the way Calvin had shown her, she was surprised at how soft the cow’s udder was. And she was even more surprised when absolutely nothing happened when she squeezed.

  “Try a little harder,” Calvin encouraged softly.

  She felt foolish. How hard? she wondered, not wanting to hurt Flossie.

  Then, shifting forward a bit on the short stool, she nearly knocked over the milk bucket. She opened her mouth to apologize but, just in time, remembered not to speak.

  “Try again,” Calvin said, his voice so soothing, it sounded more like he was talking to the cow than to her. “And relax . . . this isn’t too tough, really.”

  Maybe not for you, she thought, squeezing harder, and then, in what seemed like a sudden miracle, a long white stream flowed into the bucket. A few more pulls and she slowly got the hang of it, and the rhythm, too.

  If only Brendon could see me now! she thought.

  After several dozen times with each hand, she felt her fingers growing weak and realized that whoever milked Flossie twice a day must have super strong hand and arm muscles. She grimaced. I’m obviously not a farm girl.

  Later, when her little adventure was finished, Adeline got a kick out of washing her hands at the well pump before going inside to do a more thorough washing in the Millers’ only bathroom. Secretly, she was glad she hadn’t had any mishaps.

  Adeline found Sylvia in the kitchen making a pencil drawing for a Nine Patch pattern quilted wall hanging. She was pleasantly surprised when Sylvia said it was a project for Adeline to do. “If you’re interested.”

  “Are you sure I’m ready?” Adeline asked.

  “Oh jah, it’s time to move forward,” Rhoda said from the kitchen counter, where she was flipping through her recipe file.

  Adeline felt happy, ready to graduate from obsessively making small, straight practice stitches on random bits of fabric.

  “I can show ya the fabric scraps we have on hand, and you can choose a color scheme for this layout,” Sylvia told her, beckoning her to follow her to the sewing room upstairs.

  One adventure after another, thought Adeline, eager to proceed with something less barnyardish.

  The next day, Sylvia suggested to Ernie, when they were out digging potatoes, that maybe he’d like to ask Adeline to help him at their roadside stand that afternoon.

  “She’s helpin’ put up pickles with Mamma over at Aendi Hannah’s,” Ernie protested, as though he wasn’t so interested in having Adeline around.

  Sylvia knew this well enough—Adeline had seemed altogether pleased about the prospect of helping to make her first batch of pickles. “Well, just ask her when ya see her next,” Sylvia urged, saying how much fun Adeline had had yesterday milking Flossie.

  “Jah, that was risky business. You know what Dat and Mamma always say ’bout not havin’ strangers in the barn during milking.”

  “Thankfully, it worked out just fine,” she said.

  “This time, but did the boys ask Dat first?”

  “I don’t know.” Sylvia felt a little put out at Ernie, but she didn’t press the matter.

  “Well, maybe you should ask Dat what he thinks of havin’ an Englischer tend his roadside stand.”

  “What’s it matter, Ernie?”

  Ernie looked away and kept digging, saying no more.

  And Sylvia did the same.

  That afternoon, once Mamma and Adeline returned with many jars of pickles, both sweet and dill, Adeline asked if it was all right to work on her Nine Patch quilted wall hanging.

  “After your chores are done,” Sylvia agreed.

  Mamma turned quickly to gape at her. “What in the world?”

  Sylvia smiled. “Just kidding!”

  Adeline set the jars of pickles on the counter and turned to her, hands on her hips. “Ach, Sylvie, you’re such an Amish taskmaster.”

  The three of them had a good long laugh.

  Sylvia happened to see the mail truck come while she was mowing the side yard with their old push mower late that afternoon. To her surprise, Ernie had taken Sylvia up on her idea, and he and Adeline were working together at the family’s roadside stand.

  It was a pleasant day, with a temperature in the low eighties, as one car or buggy after another stopped for fresh produce—primarily corn and tomatoes today. Like yesterday, Mamma had also given Ernie some freshly baked loaves of bread, as well as several dozen sticky buns to sell, knowing that the tourists in particular could never resist anything homemade.

  Sylvia quit mowing and went to check the mail, finding a letter from Titus. Her heart trembled at the sight of his handwriting, but she patiently waited to open it, first carrying the rest of the mail into the house. If it was bad news, she would have to veil her reaction if anyone was around, and if it was good news . . . well, she wasn’t sure she wanted any from him.

  She went out to the stable, sat on a hay bale across from Lily’s stall, and opened the envelope. Inside, she found a short note.

  Dear Sylvie,

  Would you like to meet me Saturday evening at our usual spot, down from your house? If it suits you, I can be there around seven o’clock.

  With love,

  Titus

  Seeing how he had signed off, she had mixed feelings about this. But she remembered her talk with Dat and knew she had to have an honest conversation with Titus. Looks like it will be sooner rather than later. . . .

  Adeline enjoyed helping Ernie but was unable to follow the conversation when some Amish customers stopped by and talked very fast in Pennsylvania Dutch. A couple of times they gave her a sideways glance, as if questioning her presence there, something Ernie seemed to find humorous.

  One Amish guy in a black open buggy pulled over and got out. He waved at her and came up to the vegetable stand to purchase a half dozen ears of sweet corn. “Hullo again,” he said. “Adeline, ain’t?”

  She removed her sunglasses and realized this was the same young man whom she had met last Sunday while walking with Earnest and Rhoda. “Yes, it is . . . and you’re Andy Zook, if I remember.”

  He nodded with a good-natured expression. “I see Ernie’s got ya workin’.”

  Ernie waved at him and kept bagging tomatoes for another customer.

  “We’re working together,” Adeline said, pleased to say so.

  “S’pose Sylvia’s busy, then,” he said, glancing toward the house.

  “Oh, she’s around somewhere.” Adeline wondered if he would follow up on that.

  “Well, just tell her hi for me, okay?” he said with a smile.

  “I certainly will.” Adeline accepted Andy’s payment for the corn and placed it in the money box over near Ernie. “Thanks for dropping by.”

  As Andy returned to his horse and buggy, she remembered that he had asked her last Sunday if she was looking to become Amish.

  Never, ever, she thought once again, although it had never occurred to her that she could have this much fun in Hickory Hollow.

  While Adeline was still tending the roadside stand with Ernie, and after getting Mamma’s permission to go walking awhile, Sylvia hurried down the road to visit Ella Mae. She found the Wise Woman sitting out on her little white porch, fanning herself with a newspaper.

  “Hullo,” Sylvia called to her.

  “Well now, I was just thinkin’ about ya, dearie.” Ella Mae motioned her up to the porch with a bright smile. “Wonder if the Lord put ya on my heart.”

  Sylvia didn’t know quite what to make of that, but she took a seat in the rocking chair next to the woman, already feeling cared for, as Ella Mae had a special way of doing. “I hoped ya might be able to sit and talk a bit.”

  “I’m all yours.” Ella Mae slowed her rocking. “What’s on your heart, Sylvie-girl?”

  “I haven’t told anyone, but I’m about to do something I hope I won’t regret.”

  Ella Mae reached over to pat Sylvia’s h
and. “Well, what could cause ya to think that?”

  “I feel so frustrated here lately.” Finally she’d admitted part of what was bothering her.

  “Frustration is usually toward someone or something.” Ella Mae stopped rocking altogether. “Might this be concerning your visitor?”

  Sylvia smiled fleetingly. “When Adeline first came, jah, it was. But not any longer. Now it’s much more about Titus . . . my fiancé.”

  A soft breeze blew across the little haven of a porch, and the potted geraniums fluttered slightly. “Are things off-kilter with him?”

  Sylvia glanced at Ella Mae, pondering whether she really dared to say all that was on her heart. “I’m finding that I can’t forgive him.”

  “Can’t?”

  Sylvia shook her head. “It goes back to when Titus reported my father to the ministers—remember when Dat and Titus were in Maryland earlier this summer? It’s a long story,” she added quietly, hating to bring it up yet feeling she must.

  “Doesn’t matter how long a story ’tis . . . not if it needs to be told.”

  So Sylvia shared that, while in Maryland, her father had sought private counsel from his great-uncle Martin Zimmerman, a retired Mennonite minister. “This was before Dat told the deacon about his first marriage to his college sweetheart.”

  “I see.” Ella Mae began to rock slowly again. “I daresay Titus ain’t solely to blame for how things went after that point, considering the real cause of your father’s Bann was the secret he kept from the People.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Sylvia agreed. “What bothers me most is that Titus wouldn’t admit the truth of what he’d done when I asked—he pretended like he had nothing to do with it.” She sighed and shook her head. “It makes me wonder if I know him as well as I thought.”

  “It could be ya missed some early warnin’ signs. Sometimes when we first fall in love, we see the other person more as we want them to be than as they actually are.”