Читать книгу Twice Blessed - Barbara Cameron - Страница 13

Chapter 5

5

Long after Rosie went upstairs to lie down Katie thought about what she’d said.

Rosie was afraid of becoming an old maid? Where on earth had that come from? She and Rosie had just celebrated their

twenty-third birthday. They certainly didn’t need to think they were going to become old maids because they hadn’t gotten married yet. Amish women—just like Englisch women—were getting married later these days.

Her eyes went to the daisies. She dried her hands on a dish towel and sat at the table to study them. Rosie thought Jacob had brought them because she’d been injured. But Katie wondered if that was really true. She’d seen the way the two of them looked at each other. Why didn’t Rosie see that he was expressing interest in her? She knew that Rosie had always seemed less self-confident than she did—especially around the opposite sex—but didn’t realize just how much until tonight.

She sighed. Maybe it was just a strange mood Rosie was having. The sheet of information they’d been given at the emergency room had warned that depression could be an aftereffect of a concussion. If Rosie seemed depressed tomorrow, she’d give their doctor a call. Katie glanced around the kitchen and, finding nothing that needed to be done, headed upstairs. It was early to be going to bed but as tired as she was she looked forward to it.

She stopped at Rosie’s room and found her tucked in bed, her eyes closed, a book open on her chest. Katie tiptoed into the room and dimmed the battery-operated lamp on the bedside table. If Rosie woke, she didn’t want her disoriented by a dark room. She eased the book out from under Rosie’s fingers and set it on the table.

Just as she reached the door she heard the rustle of bedcovers behind her. “’Night.”

Katie smiled and walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar just in case Rosie needed her. She changed into a nightgown, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed, pulling her quilt up over her shoulders and snuggling in gratefully.

Rosie was already in the kitchen when Katie went downstairs the next morning. She stood at the stove scrambling eggs in an iron skillet while the percolator bubbled merrily on a back gas burner. Katie got a mug from a cabinet and waited until the percolator stopped and Rosie poured coffee into it. She sat at the table, took a deep breath of the steam rising from the mug, and blew on the coffee to cool it enough to take a first wary sip.

“You might have been born first, but you sure aren’t a morning person,” Rosie told her as she set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her.

“No toast?” Katie looked up at her.

Rosie pushed the basket of toast closer to Katie’s plate and patted her shoulder before going to the stove to pour herself more coffee.

“Oh.” Katie drank more coffee and yawned and drained the mug. She got up and refilled the mug, then sat and ate her eggs and toast, her eyes focused on her plate. Rosie sat across from her, drinking her own mug of coffee as she checked off items on her to-do list.

“Don’t do it,” Katie muttered.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t be one of those disgusting morning people who has to tell the rest of us just how much you accomplished already this morning.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rosie responded. She ripped the page off the pad of paper, rose and dropped it onto the table next to Katie’s plate. “I’ll just leave it here for you to peruse.”

With a sigh, Katie pushed away her plate and sat back with the remainder of her coffee.

Rosie looked up and smiled. “Ready to talk now?”

“If I must.”

“I’m going out to garden. I washed the vegetables for canning for you. They’re draining in the colanders in the sink.”

“Do you think you should be outside in the sun? You remember yesterday—”

Rosie smiled as she reached for her hat. “I’ll be fine. See you in a while.”

Katie got up and lifted the colanders from the sink, shaking them to drain off any water. She pulled the recipe card for chow chow from their mother’s wooden recipe box even though she knew it by heart: cauliflower, carrots, green beans, yellow wax beans, red kidney beans, onion, and red bell pepper. Lots of chopping, but she enjoyed working with the colorful vegetables, God’s abundance. She divided them into big pottery bowls, then filled a pot with water and added vinegar, sugar, celery seed, turmeric, and salt. She stood at the stove stirring the mixture until it came to a boil, then poured it over the vegetables.

Carrying the pan to the sink, she looked out the kitchen window and saw Rosie working in the garden. Where did you draw the line between genuinely trying to care for your sister and being considered bossy? It had been so hard seeing Rosie lying there hurt at the foot of the stairs. She didn’t want to wrap her in cotton wool, ,but she didn’t want her to overdo. People talked about being their brother’s keeper. She figured she was just being her sister’s keeper.

The vinegary aroma of freshly pickled vegetables filled the kitchen. Katie stirred the bowls of vegetables so that the liquid could cool and be absorbed. Amish chow chow relish was one of their most popular products. Tourists loved taking a jar of it home.

She used a ladle to pour the mixture into clear glass jars and screwed on the caps. The labels she and Rosie had created came last. She pasted them on each jar, gave them a satisfied glance, and took the ladle and bowls to the sink to wash up along with the pan. She looked out the window and saw Rosie use the back of her hand to wipe perspiration from her brow. She looked up, and their eyes met. Rosie waved.

Time for a break for both of them, Katie decided. She poured them both a glass of lemonade, spread chocolate chip cookies on a plate and carried them out to the porch. “Rosie! Come take a break!”

Rosie nodded and stood. Katie saw her look down at the ground and say something. Curious, she walked over to see better and shivered when she saw, just as she suspected, a black snake slither away.

Well, at least Rosie hadn’t invited Blackie to take a break with her on the porch. Katie sat in one of the rocking chairs and sipped her lemonade. Rosie sighed when she took her own seat and took her first sip of lemonade.

“So gut,” she said with a sigh. She flapped her hand at her face. “It’s nice on such a warm day.”

“I finished the first batch of chow chow relish. I have time for another before I have to get ready for work.” She gave Rosie a sidelong glance. “Don’t start. Doctor said you can’t go back today.”

“Maybe not today, but tomorrow.” Rosie lifted her chin and stared at Katie.

“Against my better judgment.”

“Ya,” agreed Rosie. “The doctor doesn’t know as much as you about concussions.”

“He doesn’t know as much about you as I do,” Katie muttered.

Rosie laughed. “Oh, Katie, you always have to have the last word.”

“Do not.”

“Do, too.”

“I do not!” Katie said with more force.

“I bet you have to have the last word.”

Katie waved a hand over her mouth. “Here, see! I’m zipping my lip. Zip!”

Rosie stared at her for a long moment. They were behaving like a couple of kinner. She burst out laughing.

The laugh started deep inside Katie and bubbled out. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh my,” she said. “We are a pair.”

“Two peas in a pod,” Rosie agreed with a grin.

***

Rosie felt the eyes of the congregation on her as she walked into the Beiler home for Sunday services.

The women who sat on one side were the worst—their eyes hard, their expressions disapproving. When she glanced at the men, they appeared no less disapproving, but they looked away as if they couldn’t be bothered meeting her eyes.

She felt cold down into her bones. Her palms grew clammy, and her heart beat so fast and loud she wondered if the whole room could hear it. She walked toward the front of the room where she saw an empty seat in the women’s section. Somehow she made it there even though her knees felt like jelly. She sank into the chair and stared straight ahead, feeling like she wore a scarlet “A” on her like the heroine in that Englisch novel. What was it called? The Scarlet Letter. She’d checked it out of the library once, but her mamm hadn’t let her read it and had immediately returned it.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. When she glanced over at the men’s section she saw Jacob looking at her.

His eyes were just as cold and hard as those of the congregation around him.

Her heart sank. Somehow everyone had found out she’d intended to ask Jacob out. She knew the Amish grapevine worked better than a telephone, but really . . . everyone here knew. Even Jacob! Her face flamed.

Why had she let Katie talk her into this? She’d never live it down. Rosie wanted to jump up and run out of the house, but it was Sunday service; one had to attend unless one was sick. That was it. She’d pretend she was sick and slip out.

But when she tried to stand her long skirts tangled around her legs, and she couldn’t move. She pulled at the fabric, but it trapped her. Struggling just made it worse. Crying out, desperate to escape, she jerked at her skirt and woke. She was in her room, in bed, not in a church service in the Beiler home. It had just been a bad dream.

Katie appeared in the doorway of her room. “Rosie? You okay?” she asked, sounding sleepy.

Rosie found her sheets and quilt were tangled around her. No wonder she’d been dreaming that she was trapped. “Ya. Just had a bad dream.”

Before she knew what was happening, Katie had bustled into the room and had laid the back of her hand on Rosie’s forehead.

“What are you doing?”

“Just making sure you don’t have a fever.”

“I had a concussion, not a virus!”

“You can never be too careful.”

“Go back to bed, Katie.”

She yawned and turned to leave the room. “’Night.”

It took Rosie a long time to go back to sleep. The dream had seemed so real . . .

The next day she walked into the Beiler home. Chills raced up and down her spine. Everything looked just like her dream . . . the way the wooden benches were set up, the congregation filing in. On the other hand, she’d been to services at this house many times through the years so of course, it would look familiar.

But every time she looked into the face of one of the people, she saw smiles, friendliness, and welcome. Relieved that she wasn’t having another bad dream, Rosie found a seat and Katie sat next to her.

“Someone’s trying to catch your eye,” Katie whispered.

Rosie glanced over at the men’s section and saw Jacob. He grinned at her. She smiled back, happy that he wasn’t wearing that forbidding, unfriendly look from her nightmare.

She loved church—the singing, the message, the feeling of union with her community. But the service felt even longer than the usual three hours. Her head still hurt a little. She wished she’d taken some ibuprofen or aspirin before she came. The room felt warm, close. Some fresh air would help, but she didn’t want to call attention to herself by slipping outside for a few minutes.

Finally it was over, and the men began moving the wooden benches to form seating areas so everyone could share the light meal the women were going to serve.

Katie must have noticed that Rosie wasn’t comfortable because she urged her to go sit on the front porch while she helped in the kitchen. Rosie gratefully took her up on that, not even minding that the sunlight made her headache a little worse.

The front door opened and Jacob walked out, saw her, and

came over to sit in a chair beside her. “Guder mariye.”

“Guder mariye.” She smiled shyly at him. “Did you enjoy the service? This was your second time, right?” She winced inwardly. Should she have said that she noticed how many times he’d attended since he moved here?

He nodded. “Very much. I liked what Abe Miller had to say about Matthew. How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful. Fully recovered. Thank you again for the daisies.”

“Glad you liked them.”

Small talk, thought Rosie. But it was comfortable, pleasant, talking to him. She didn’t feel the overwhelming anxiety she’d thought she would

A couple of people walked out of the house, descended the stairs and headed for where they’d parked their buggy. More people would be leaving. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, Rosie turned to Jacob.

“Would you—”

“Rosie—”

They stopped.

“Ladies first,” he said with a smile.

“Would you like to go for a drive?”

“I was about to ask you that.”

“You were?”

“Ya. And lunch?”

“Lunch would be wonderful. I’ll just go tell Katie.”

“I’ll get my buggy. And Rosie?”

She stopped, turned. “Ya?”

“Do you have sunglasses? You look like the light’s bothering your eyes.”

He’d noticed.

“I do. They’re in my purse. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Rosie smiled as she went inside and found Katie walking toward the kitchen. She grabbed her hands and pulled her over into a corner of the hallway where they wouldn’t be overheard. “I asked him. I asked Jacob out.”

“You did?” Katie grinned. “Gut for you! It wasn’t so hard,

was it?”

She shook her head. “I think he was going to ask me. Anyway, we’re going for a ride and lunch. I’ll see you later.”

“I’m going to lunch with Daniel. Imagine, both of us have dates on the same afternoon.”

“You always have a date. It’s me who never has a date.” Rosie retrieved her purse from the kitchen where she’d stashed her purse when she came in that morning and walked outside to meet Jacob. She felt little flutters of excitement like butterflies in her tummy.

Unknown territory. That’s what she felt she was venturing into

. . . unknown territory. It was a little bit scary and a little bit exciting.

She tried to hide her surprise when Jacob pulled up then got out to open the door for her. She’d gone out with some other men and they hadn’t been as polite. Did that come from knowing each other since they were kinner?

Maybe it would be good for her to go out with Jacob—he didn’t know how sometimes she’d been teased for being almost painfully shy at schul by boys and girls alike. She wanted to be more outgoing . . . not necessarily as much as Katie. But she just felt she missed out sometimes by being introverted and shy.

She dug in her purse for her sunglasses, pausing to smile at him before she slipped them on.

“I’ll let you choose the restaurant,” he told her as he guided the buggy down the driveway.

She had no idea what kind of food he’d like. She knew that kind of thing about boys she’d grown up with but knew so little about Jacob. So she asked him and found out that when he ate out he loved Italian.

“I know just the restaurant,” she said. “Turn left at the next road.”