“And so cute,” her sister replied. “He had a way with him, you know?”
“You can say that again. Even sweet to—Rachel?” The girl’s eyes widened and she nearly lost her grip on the container of milk. “You’re wearing Amish dress. Have you . . .”
“Turned Amish again?” Rachel chuckled. “Ne. Just an unwanted encounter with a pan of turkey gravy.”
“It suits you,” the older girl said. “Better you come back to the faith now, my mother says. And not marry that Englisher policeman.”
In her late teens, the girl was tall and thin as a rake handle with small eyes and not much of a chin. Poor thing, Rachel thought. It was what came of a closed society intermarrying over so many years. She hoped that Uncle Juab would give her a piece of land and a few cows to attract a suitor. She was a clever girl and deserved a husband as much as her prettier sisters did.
“Best we’d all get inside and help,” Rachel suggested. There would be a lot of dishes to wash. Maybe she’d volunteer. She didn’t mind washing dishes. She was free to think because her hands knew the tasks. It wasn’t like having to make conversation about the natural appearance of the deceased or conjectures about how such a terrible accident could have happened. A hunting accident. Daniel had inadvertently shot himself.
Rachel took a deep breath of the cold air, retrieved the buttermilk, and returned to the kitchen. As when she’d left, the kitchen was packed with busy, chattering women and one who was loudly weeping. Rachel’s mother, a fussy granddaughter balanced on one hip, saw Rachel and gestured for her to take a serving tray from the edge of the sink.
“I wondered where you were,” her mother said, making her way through the crowded knot of women to her side. “Apple cider and lemonade. And that box of tissues. Could you take it into the parlor? And see if anyone wants coffee or water.”
The baby girl, Rachel’s brother Paul’s youngest, was dressed in traditional Amish garb in a long gown, old-fashioned cream-colored baby cap, and black high-topped shoes. In her tiny mouth was a pink pacifier shaped like a flower secured by a pink ribbon and pinned to the front of her baby gown. Pins on clothing were supposed to be straight pins, but since it was attached from the inside and both Rachel’s mother and her sister-in-law were sensible, Rachel suspected a safety pin inside the child’s clothing.
“Shouldn’t you sit down for a while?” Rachel suggested as she picked up the tray of drinks. “The doctors said you shouldn’t overdo.” Her mother’s color was good today, and her eyes were bright, but Rachel knew that she didn’t have her full strength back yet after being treated for breast cancer. Her hair was growing back from the chemo, and it seemed thick and healthy in appearance, but it was still very short for an Amish woman. Today, her mam wore her traditional kapp instead of the scarf she’d been wearing for the last six months. And the pins on her dress and apron were definitely straight pins.
“Don’t worry so much.” Her mother smiled. “I am goot. Save your compassion for Mary Rose. How she will manage without Daniel, I don’t know. When I think what he’s done for that family since he married her. Not that I fault poor Ernst. So long Mary Rose’s father was in that wheelchair before the Lord took him home. And her brother, Moses, being the way he is.” Her last word held a certain tone.
Moses Studer was considered odd by the Amish. It was Rachel’s guess that if he had lived among the English, he would have been diagnosed years ago with Asperger’s. Instead, his friends and neighbors simply remarked on his occasionally strange behavior and his way of talking and interacting with others. The good thing was that he was completely accepted by the Amish and cherished as another soul, blessed by God.
“But how many bridegrooms would take responsibility for a failing farm, a mother-in-law, and a twelve-year-old boy when he married?” Rachel’s mother continued. “Without Daniel, the family would have been—”
“Esther.” Rachel’s Aunt Hannah bustled through the throng, interrupting. “Your Samuel wants to know where his old Bible is, the one with the worn cover given to him by his great-uncle. Preacher Harvey has a cousin in Bird-in-Hand who repairs old books. He says that if those loose pages aren’t fixed, the whole volume is in danger.”
“In the cabinet under the stairs,” her mother answered. “Wait. Can you take this one? If she needs her diaper changed, there’s a stash in the big bathroom closet. I’ll get the Bible. Samuel couldn’t find a fly on the end of his nose.”
Rachel waited for an opening to carry in the tray of drinks, but instead of thinning out, the crush seemed to get worse as more food was being passed into the living room, where more tables had been erected. Mary Byler, who was sitting near the woodstove, fanned herself with a copy of the magazine Family Life and motioned to her. “Rachel! Are you going to have the wedding at that English church in town?” she called.
For such a small woman, her voice carried easily above the murmurs, and Rachel involuntarily winced. This didn’t seem the time or place to be talking about her impending wedding. “We are,” she answered quietly.
“What? I can’t hear you! Shh, I’m trying to hear Rachel,” Mary said to the two nearest matrons, who were talking about the new widow’s eldest brother.
Rachel knew who they were discussing because she’d heard Arlene Troyer say, “. . . It was Daniel that got him that good job at the mill.”
“Come over here, Rachel.” Mary motioned with her makeshift fan. “I want to talk to you. Hear all the details.”
Rachel offered a quick smile. “Sorry, fetching for my mother,” she called back, and then to her aunt, she said, “Excuse me.
