Mam never missed a thing, but luckily, she said nothing about Eli being at the door. Ruth didn’t want to talk about Eli. Not ever. She just wanted to pretend the whole thing with her apron catching fire had never happened. It was too embarrassing.
“I hope there’s enough here,” Anna said, when they’d finished silent grace.
“This is plenty, daughter.”
“It all looks delicious, Anna,” Ruth said, finding her normal voice. Seated here at the table with her family, she could push thoughts of Eli Lapp and all her tumbling emotions out of her head. “But then everything you make is delicious.”
Anna smiled, always grateful for a compliment. Cooking seemed to be what she lived for. Ruth cared deeply for Anna, but even a sister’s loving eye couldn’t deny the truth that Anna’s features were as ordinary as oatmeal. Her mouth was too wide, and her round cheeks as rosy as pickled beets. Anna was what Mam called a healthy girl, tall and sturdy with dimpled elbows and wide feet. The truth was, Anna took up twice the room in the buggy as her twin Miriam.
Ruth knew the neighbors whispered that Anna would never marry but would be the daughter to stay home and care for her mother in her old age, but she thought they were wrong. Surely there was a good man somewhere out there who would appreciate Anna for who she was and what she had to offer.
“That was Eli Lapp at the door just wanting to make sure Ruth was all right. He was on his way home from the chair shop.” Anna cut her gaze at Ruth.
Miriam nearly choked on her chowder. “That was Eli Lapp from Belleville at the door?” She looked at their mother. “Dorcas said he rides a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. Aunt Martha saw him.”
“He’s allowed to if he hasn’t joined the church yet,” Anna offered. “Dinah said he’s rumspringa. You know those Pennsylvania Amish are a lot more liberal with their young people than our church.”
Susanna’s eyes widened. “Rump-spinga? What’s that?”
“Rumspringa,” Mam corrected gently. “Some Amish churches allow their teenage boys and girls a few years of freedom to experiment with worldly ways before they commit their lives to God. Anna is right. So long as Eli hasn’t yet been baptized, he can do what he wants, within reason.”
“Rumspringa,” Susanna repeated.
“He’s wild is what he is.” Miriam’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That’s what everyone is saying. Handsome and wild.”
Ruth’s throat tightened. She was just starting to feel calmer, and now here they were talking about that boy again. It was almost as bad as having him right here at the supper table! Why was Miriam teasing her like this? She knew very well Ruth wasn’t interested in Eli Lapp…not in any boy.
“Let us eat before everything is cold.” Mam didn’t raise her voice, but she didn’t have to. All eyes turned to their plates, and for several loud ticks of the mantel clock, there was no sound but the clink of forks and spoons against Mam’s blue-and-white ironstone plates and the loud purring of Susanna’s tabby cat under the table.
They were just clearing away the dishes when a knock came at the kitchen door. “Who can that be now?” Miriam asked. “Think it’s Eli Lapp again?”
Anna and Miriam exchanged glances and giggled. Ruth stepped into the hall, seriously considering marching straight up the stairs to an early bedtime.
“I’ll get it.” Anna bustled for the door.
“Ne. I’ll get it.” Mam straightened her Kapp before answering the door.
When Ruth peeked around the corner, she was relieved to see that it was Samuel Mast, their neighbor.
He plucked at his well-trimmed beard as he stepped into the kitchen. “You’re eating. I should have waited.”
“Ne, ne,” Mam said. “You come in and have coffee and Anna’s rhubarb pudding with us. You know you are always welcome. Did Roman say how much the repairs on the school would cost?”
Anna carried a steaming mug of coffee to Dat’s place. Since Dat’s death, the seat was always reserved for company, and Samuel often filled it.
Ruth thought Samuel was sweet on Mam, but her mother would certainly deny it. Samuel was a God-fearing man with a big farm and a prize herd of milk cows; he was also eight years younger than Mam. Nevertheless, Ruth observed, he came often and stayed late, whenever someone could watch his children for the evening.
Samuel was a widower and Mam a widow. With Dat two years in the grave and Samuel’s wife nearly four, it was time they both remarried. Everyone said so. But Ruth didn’t believe her mother was ready to take that step, not even for solid and hardworking Samuel.
The trouble was, Ruth thought, Mam couldn’t discourage Samuel’s visits without hurting his feelings. They all valued his friendship. He was a deacon in their church, not a bishop, as Dat had been, but a respected and good man. Everyone liked him. Ruth liked him, just not as a replacement for her father.
And now Samuel would be here all evening again, delaying Ruth’s plans for a serious conversation with Mam about Irwin Beachy running from the fire. She didn’t want to make accusations without proof, but she couldn’t keep this from her mother. If Irwin had started the blaze, something would have to be done. But now there would be no chance to get Mam alone before bedtime. Samuel had settled in Dat’s chair, where he would stay until the clock struck eleven and Mam began pulling down the window shades. Talking to her mother about Irwin would have to wait until tomorrow.
Maybe that was a better idea anyway. Ruth was still flustered. First the incident at the school with that Eli, and then him showing up at their door asking for her. This had been a terrible day, and that wild Pennsylvania boy hadn’t made it any better.
Every Friday, three of the Yoder girls took butter, eggs, flowers and seasonal produce to Spence’s Auction and Bazaar in Dover, where they rented a table and sold their wares to the English. They would rise early so that they could set up their stand before the first shoppers of the day came to buy food from the Amish Market and prowl through the aisles of antiques, vegetables and yard sale junk. If the girls were lucky, they would sell out before noon.
The income was important to the household. There were items that they needed that Mam’s salary couldn’t cover. And no matter how tight the budget, each girl who worked was allowed to take a portion of the profit for her marriage savings or to buy something that she wanted. The sisters shared equally with Susanna, who always did her best to help.
Susanna loved the auction. She liked to watch the English tourists and she loved to poke through the dusty tables of glass dogs and plastic toys in the flea market. Today, Susanna had made a real find, an old Amish-style rag doll without a face. The doll had obviously had many adventures. Somewhere she’d lost her Kapp and apron, but Ruth promised that she would sew Dolly a new wardrobe and assured her sister that this doll was Plain enough to please even the bishop.
Today had been a slow day. They hadn’t sold everything, and it was long past lunchtime. Now it was clouding up in the west, and it looked to Ruth as if they might get an afternoon thunderstorm.
Across the way, Aunt Martha and Cousin Dorcas were already packing up their baked-goods stall. Ruth was just about to suggest to Miriam that they leave when, suddenly, there was a loud rumble.
Heads whipped around as Eli Lapp came roaring down the driveway between the lines of stalls on a battered old motorbike. Ruth almost laughed in spite of herself at the sight of him on the rickety contraption. Even she could see that it was no Harley motorcycle, as Aunt Martha had claimed. It was an ancient motorized scooter, hand-painted in awful shades of yellow, lime and black.
Susanna’s mouth opened in a wide O as she pointed at the motor scooter. Miriam called out and waved, and to Ruth’s horror, the Belleville boy braked his machine right in front of the Yoder stall.
“Hey!”