The Promise of Easter, page 3
A few minutes later she was back again. Turned out she’d been wrong. Daadi, always so approachable, had no time for her. Or anyone, it seemed, right now.
“Told you so.” Betsy was still standing where she’d been, apparently just for the purpose of annoying her big sister.
Anna glared at her. “Don’t you have something useful to do? Like your homework, for instance?”
“You’re not my teacher here, you know. So stop acting like it.”
Pressing her lips together, Anna vowed not to let anything else critical come out. She’d just promised herself that she’d keep her roles as teacher and sister separate, and she’d broken that promise already.
Anna shoved her annoyance to the back of her mind. It wasn’t Betsy’s fault that Matt was causing problems. Or that Daadi was cross.
“Sorry, Betsy. You’re right. I’ll try to do better.”
Betsy went from open-mouthed surprise to grudging acceptance. “Okay. Guess I shouldn’t have . . . well, you know.”
“Yah, I know.” Anna managed a smile. “Ready to go in?”
Betsy nodded, and they walked to the back door together. “Seemed funny,” Betsy said. “Matt being here, I mean. I thought maybe we’d never see him again after he jumped the fence.”
Anna’s stomach twisted at the words. “I was surprised, too.”
Surprised? Surprised was too mild a word for her feelings, but she figured she should keep that to herself.
Mammi and Grossmammi were both in the kitchen, puzzling over a piece of paper Grossmammi held.
“Here, Anna, see if you can read this writing for us. It’s too faded to make out.” Grossmammi thrust the paper at her.
“What is it?” Anna slid out of her sweater and took the paper closer to the lamp. “Osterbrot,” she said, making out the light pencil marks on a much-creased, yellowing paper. “It’s your mammi’s recipe for Easter bread, ain’t so? Are we making it already?”
The Easter bread was a tradition in the family, not usually made this early, because they didn’t eat it until Easter morning, when Lent was over. Grossmammi always insisted her mother’s recipe was the only genuine one, and other people’s versions were nothing to compare with it.
“I’m not making it for us yet,” Mammi said. “But Grossmammi wants to make a loaf for Elmer Miller, since he’s all alone this year.”
Elmer Miller had plenty of family who could provide him with Easter bread, but Anna knew if Grossmammi thought they should do it, there’d be no argument about it.
“Why not for us?” Betsy leaned over her shoulder to glance at the recipe. “I love Easter bread. You’ll put the almonds and apricot jam on it, won’t you?”
She looked anxiously at Grossmammi, eager to be sure the Osterbrot would be as good as ever. After weeks of Lent, everyone loved the sweet Easter treat.
Grossmammi patted her hand. “Don’t worry yourself, Betsy. When it’s time, we’ll make it for us, and you’ll get plenty. You can brush the glaze on yourself. It’s time you learned a bit more baking.”
Anna’s lips twitched. Betsy’s eagerness to take over the farm work didn’t include cooking and baking.
“What do you need done, Mammi? Do you want me to copy this out in ink for you so it won’t fade?”
“Ach, denke, that’s just what I want. In your gut teacher printing, too.” Mammi’s eyes twinkled. “I think we might have spilled milk on this too often.”
“I want this paper kept, though,” Grossmammi said, touching the paper lightly. “It’s in my own mammi’s hand.”
“For sure,” Mammi said quickly. “Just let Anna have it long enough to copy, and then you can put it away in the family Bible.”
The family Bible not only held the complete genealogy of the family going back to the Swiss Germans who’d come to America in the 1700s, but it had become the repository for all sorts of letters and papers Grossmammi wanted to save.
Anna hurried to get pen and paper and settled down at the kitchen table with her grandmother there to fill in anything Anna couldn’t read.
“Osterbrot is special, ain’t so?” she said, to get her grandmother talking. She loved hearing Grossmammi’s memories of how things used to be.
“Very special.” Grossmammi pressed the paper flat with thin fingers that seemed to tremble a little. “Our family came to Philadelphia with the first few groups of Amish, and this tradition came with them.”
“We do love it. Maybe we should make some extra loaves for the family, the way Betsy is eating these days.”
“There will be enough for us and for all the neighbors.” Grossmammi spoke placidly. She seemed to study Anna’s face as the neat lettering appeared on the paper. “Now tell me what is troubling you.”
Anna glanced at her in surprise. She hadn’t shown a thing in her face, had she? But not only could her grandmother see what was behind her back, as the younger ones insisted, she could also see whatever you were hiding. She didn’t always bring it out into the light, but she always saw.
“I guess it’s no good saying there’s nothing?” Anna ventured.
Grossmammi shook her head, her eyes amused. “No gut at all.”
Anna frowned down at the paper as she completed the copy. “I wanted to know why Matthew was so eager to talk to Daadi. And what he’s doing here.”
“He told us why he’s here. He had some time off his job. And as for what he had to say to your father . . . well, maybe you should ask him if you need to know what Matthew said.”
Anna wrinkled her nose, suspecting Grossmammi of leading her right into how she had to answer. “I tried. Daadi said to leave him alone.”
Her grandmother smiled. “Then you’d best do that. Whatever the problem is, your father is well able to deal with it without your help, ain’t so?”
Anna felt her cheeks growing pink. “Yah, I know. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?” Grossmammi put her hand over Anna’s. “You don’t want to be reminded of James, is that it?”
“Ach, no! I could never forget James. I wish I felt I could talk about him more, but I’m afraid of making Mammi sad.”
Grossmammi considered, her wrinkled face carrying the weight of her years. She sighed and seemed to choose her words carefully. “It must always make us sad that James is not with us anymore. But when we tell stories about him and laugh at the funny things he said . . .” Grossmammi’s eyes grew bright with tears. “It brings him back to us for a little while.”
Nodding, Anna blinked back her own tears and wondered if her throat was too tight for speech.
But it seemed Grossmammi wasn’t finished, because her hand tightened on Anna’s. “You must search your heart, little Anna. You are holding a grudge against Matthew. Isn’t it time you let it go?”
“I can’t.” She wanted to cry out the words, but she whispered them instead. She put her hands over her face for a moment. “He should have stopped James from doing something so foolish.”
“Ach, now you are the one being foolish.” Grossmammi’s voice had become firm. “No one could have known what would happen to James that night—not you, not anyone. Each of us must wish we had done something to stop him from being there, but we didn’t. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
“Matthew could have . . .” she began, her voice stubborn.
“Stop that.” Grossmammi took her hand away, making Anna feel cold and alone. “You must ask forgiveness, Anna. Stop and think. We are told that we must not come to the Lord’s table if we have anything against a brother or sister in the faith. Think how you’ll feel if you could not take part in the Spring Communion. Make yourself right with others so you can bring an open heart to the table.”
The tears were coming down Anna’s cheeks now. Grossmammi slipped a tissue into her hand, and Anna pressed it against her eyes and tried to straighten out her scrambled thoughts. Everything Grossmammi said was right. Anna should do it. But she couldn’t suppress the stubborn anger inside that kept forgiveness far away.
* * *
* * *
Aunt Ella was fixing supper, and probably taking more trouble with it than she did when she was here by herself. Feeling he should make some return for her hospitality, Matt had found an old stepladder in the shed and set it up next to the back porch roof, where several shingles had blown off.
He took a deep breath, shook the stepladder to be sure it was steady, and went up a step. He paused there, checking his reactions, needing to be sure panic wasn’t going to swamp him.
Another step would put the low roof within reach. Not bad, he told himself, and went up another rung, gripping it firmly, and reminding himself that he was only a couple of feet from the ground. He could do this.
Funny. Under ordinary circumstances, a woman like Aunt Ella would have dozens of kinfolk in the valley, all lining up to help with her house repairs. But his own branch of the King family hadn’t produced many offspring. With his parents moved away, there weren’t many left. The least he could do was take care of a few repairs while he was here.
Besides, it kept his mind from going over and over his encounter with the Stoltzfus family. Their reactions had been mixed, but that was probably better than he’d had any right to expect.
Nothing mixed about Anna’s opinion, though. She’d be glad to see the back of him.
As for the request he’d made of Simon once he’d gotten him alone . . . no answer, unless you could call his startled, almost appalled expression an answer. At least Simon had said he’d think it over. All he could do now was wait for an answer. If Simon rejected him . . .
He really didn’t want to think about that possibility. He’d become convinced that the answer to his problem was here in Promise Glen, where it had started. He couldn’t conceive of a solution that would take him anyplace else.
Reaching to put a new shingle in place, Matt managed to drop an entire handful of nails. Muttering to himself, he started to climb down only to find a hand reaching up, holding four or five of them.
Two kids, a boy and a girl. The boy was older, probably thirteen or fourteen, and he was the one holding up the nails while the little girl squatted, searching through the gravel for the rest.
Matt accepted a couple of nails. “Denke. You two are from next door, ain’t so?”
The boy nodded. “I’m Thomas. This is Rebecca.”
Thomas seemed sturdy for his age, with shoulders already broad and strong hands. His expression must put folks off, though. He looked sulky, as if he didn’t see anything he liked in this new place.
Rebecca, the little one, didn’t look up enough to give him an opportunity to see her face. Shy, probably.
Matt smiled down at them. “Gut to meet you. Did you come to see Ella?”
Thomas gave a quick shake of his head to the question. “We saw you working.” He apparently considered that enough of an answer. Thomas didn’t seem to waste any extra words. So far, little Rebecca hadn’t said anything at all.
They’d seen him and come to watch him working. Well, that was fine with him. At least they didn’t babble, like some kids.
After another five minutes he decided silence could be overdone. “I hear you just moved in a few weeks ago. How do you like it so far?”
To his astonishment, little Rebecca buried her face against her brother’s arm. But not before he’d seen the tears.
He plunged into speech, embarrassed. “Sometimes it’s hard to get used to a new place.” He should know. “It’ll be better after you get to know some more people. There must be kids your age at school.”
“Yah.” That was Thomas’s answer, while Rebecca wiped her cheeks with her sleeve.
Matt’s curiosity propelled the next question. “How do you like Teacher Anna?” Living where they did, they had to go to Orchard Hill School.
Thomas shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” Rebecca pinched his arm. Thomas looked at her and then shrugged. “Rebecca says she’s nice.”
Matt gave a final tap to the last shingle and looked down at them. “Doesn’t Rebecca . . . talk?”
The two exchanged glances, and Thomas answered for her. “Sometimes.”
It might be interesting to hear what Teacher Anna thought about her new pupils. Not that she was likely to talk to him about it. Or anything else.
Gathering up his tools, he paused for a moment before starting down, reminding himself of how close the ground was . . . He realized that Thomas had reached out to take the tools, and Matt handed them over gladly. At least that way he could keep both hands on the ladder as he stepped down.
Thomas hovered over Matt while he put the tools away in his toolbox, breathing down his neck.
“You’re a carpenter? Was that what you did out there?” A jerk of the head seemed to indicate the world outside the valley.
“Construction work,” he said shortly, beginning to wonder how he was going to get rid of them now that he’d finished his chore. It seemed rude just to put down his tools and walk away. “Not fine carpentry.”
“It sounds like a gut job. You must have made a lot of money there among the Englisch.”
Matt had to smile, remembering his reaction to his first paycheck. “Maybe, but it costs a lot more to live out there on your own.”
The boy shrugged that off. “Yah, but you were free to do what you wanted, ain’t so?”
An alert rang in his mind. It wouldn’t do his stay here any good if folks started thinking he was encouraging kids to leave. “Not exactly. No matter where you are, there’s going to be somebody telling you what to do . . . bosses, landlords, people like that.”
“Might be better than . . .” Thomas stopped as the back door opened.
Aunt Ella appeared, holding a plastic bag containing cookies. “I saw you kinder were watching Matthew. I thought you might like to have a snack.” She handed the bag to Thomas. “Share with your sister, now.”
“Yah, I will.” Thomas smiled.
Matt blinked. The smile made him look like a different kid, someone young and alive.
Just as quickly, his face slid back into sullen lines. He took his sister’s hand. “Gotta get home for supper.” He turned away, then glanced back at them. “Denke.”
It wasn’t clear which of them the thanks was aimed at.
Matt picked up his toolbox once they’d gone. “Funny kids.”
That earned him a frown from his aunt. “Those kids have trouble. Anyone can tell that. If you weren’t so set on your own problems, you might see other people’s.”
She stamped back into the house, leaving him alone and staring after her.
* * *
* * *
Anna liked to spend the trip home from school thinking back over the day, holding each of her scholars in her thoughts. Who had had a good day, who had seemed out of sorts or easily distracted or cross? Had each of them had his or her share of their teacher’s attention?
Unfortunately, the next day her thoughts kept bouncing from her scholars to Matthew and back again. She’d had no chance to speak to Daad alone yesterday, and this morning he had turned such a forbidding expression on her when she tried to bring up the subject that she’d backed away.
Scholars, she reminded herself. The school year was growing short, and she wanted to feel that she’d given her best to each child in her care. She couldn’t do that if she was constantly distracted.
Take the two new children, now. They puzzled her by their withdrawn attitudes. She hoped it was just the inevitable need to adjust to a new place, but she couldn’t be sure.
Look at Thomas, for instance. He was big and strong for his age, which would usually make him popular among the older boys for their daily baseball games. But his face seemed constantly set in sullen, sulky lines, and they tended to avoid him.
It would be easy to think Thomas a troublemaker just because of the way he looked, but she couldn’t let that make her feel negative toward the boy. She had to give him a chance to prove himself.
As for the little sister . . . well, she was quiet and well-behaved, but maybe too quiet. She’d answer a direct question in a whisper, but otherwise, Anna couldn’t get a word out of her. Maybe if she asked them to stay and help her with something, she could get to know them better.
Daisy turned automatically into the lane, and Anna shook her head. She’d driven the last mile without paying attention to what she was doing. There were enough accidents on the roads without her contributing by her inattention, like those Englisch teenagers glued to their cell phones.
Right now she’d best focus on another try at talking to Daad. If she could only find him alone . . .
She was being guided, it seemed, because when she pulled up at the barn, Daadi walked toward her. He gave her a hand as she hopped down.
“Was it a gut day at school today? Or have the scholars all got spring fever on these nice days?” He smiled as if his earlier withdrawal had never been. Or maybe as if he wanted to make up for it.
“Plenty of spring fever going around among the older ones,” she said lightly. “And I’m afraid Grossmammi’s usual remedy of blackstrap molasses won’t cure what ails them.”
Daad chuckled. “Some things you can’t prevent, and one of them is boys and girls noticing each other when they get to the right age. And after Easter passes, they’ll all be so eager for the last day of school that you’ll need to lasso them to get them to pay attention.”
“That’s for sure.”
Anna hesitated, reluctant to break into the friendly chatter with something that might upset him, but she had to speak while she had the chance. If she waited, someone was sure to interrupt.
“Daadi, I can’t stop thinking about Matthew being here. Won’t you tell me what he wants?” She tried not to let her own feelings toward Matt leak into her words.
