I flew to the window to see my brother’s boisterous family of five gathering boxes from their buggy and making their way up the porch steps to the back door.
Minutes later, Marta, my tall and angular sister-in-law, marched into my bedroom and gave me a one-armed embrace. “Almost finished packing?”
“Uh, not yet. We thought you were coming the day after tomorrow.”
Marta straightened my prayer kapp and tied the strings under my chin as if I were one of her daughters. “Well, now I can help ya, but you should have already started.” Marta’s gaze landed on my unmade bed. “Where’s your suitcase?” She shouted to her twin daughters. “Kumm rei, Nancy and Mary Lou. Help your aendi move out.”
“I’m the one who needs help,” Mamm said, I figured for my benefit. “Want to see the daadi haus, girls?” She called to them as she started down the stairs to the kitchen. My prudent mother had already thoroughly cleaned and moved my father’s and her clothing into the small house attached to a corner of the larger home. My grandparents had resided there before their deaths.
“Ach, we packed our belongings yesterday and rose at dawn to get here.” Marta let out a weary yawn. “Our landlord was badgering us to leave or he’d charge us another month’s rent. And your bruder was determined we get here today. He’s so excited. But we should have called you first.”
My brother Reuben now owned the property and would run the farm so Dat could retire.
“Not a problem,” I said. “It’s fine.”
“You do want my help packing, don’t ya?” Marta asked. “Our dochders are dying to sleep in here tonight.”
“They could sleep with me.” I straightened my sheets, blanket, and the Lone Star quilt my grandmother made for me when I was a girl. “We can have a slumber party.”
“Nee, they need to turn in early. We all stayed up too late last night.” Her eyes squinted above her beaky nose. “I regret having to say this, but if you’d found yourself a gut husband, we wouldn’t be in this awkward predicament.”
Her words harpooned into my chest. “You may be right.” I recalled the sermon one of our ministers expounded in church last Sunday: Turn the other cheek. “Okay, I’ll get ready right now. I’m sure Dat won’t mind taking me today instead.”
“I hope you know I’m speaking the truth in love, Evie.” She gave me a quick, unexpected one-armed hug. “You may have made mistakes, but I never bought into those rumors.”
Ach. I didn’t want to rehash them. “Denki.”
Marta called down the stairway. “Reuben, will you please bring up an empty suitcase for your schweschder?” Then she sashayed over to my solid-colored dresses and black aprons hanging on hooks on the wall. Her long arms scooped up the clothes as if they were sheaves of harvested wheat. Before I could open my mouth to ask her to stop, she tossed them on the bed atop the quilt. I hoped my new bed would be big enough to accommodate it. Well, of course it would. Yet I’d neglected to inquire how my future abode was furnished. I should have asked a myriad of questions before accepting the job working in the nursery. But my favorite cousin, Olivia, insisted I pounce on the job before someone else did. For some reason, she’d recently given up her position managing the café there, but she insisted the nursery was a good place to work.
As I gathered my toiletries, my mind spun like a windmill during a tempest. I’d planned to drive Dat’s buggy to the nursery today to meet the owner and survey my new home, described as a cute cottage by Olivia. Sometimes she embellished her descriptions, but I’d be happy with a storage shed now that Marta was here.
Olivia told me the place had been recently vacated by an aged housekeeper who’d lived there until she moved to Indiana to reside with a niece. The dwelling was strictly Amish, meaning no electrical wires or telephone. Propane lights illuminated the interior, and a small refrigerator and gas stove provided cooking options. But I’d forgotten to ask if it had an indoor bathroom or an outhouse.
Reuben lumbered up the stairs and opened a suitcase on my bed. Marta gave him a look of appreciation—an outward show of affection was verboten in our Amish community. I figured she rarely showed him affection even in private. Yet they had three children, so who was I to look down on her? She and my brother shared a harmonious marriage, while I seemed doomed to be single the rest of my life.
A few minutes later I sat on the suitcase’s lid while Marta fastened the metal latches with gusto. I’d known this day would come, so why was I discombobulated? For one thing, I’d hoped to leave with dignity and leisure, not feel as though I was being booted out of the house like a stray cat.
“There. Now you’re all packed.” Marta grabbed hold of the handle and lugged the suitcase down the stairs. Following her into the kitchen, I scanned the only home I’d ever known. I recalled an abundance of fond memories, sitting at the kitchen table with my parents and brother, helping Mamm wash the dishes after meals. I hadn’t wanted to live here forever, but I felt the weight of defeat. I’d expected to be married by now, with children of my own.
“Darling dochder, you don’t have to leave us.” Dat stepped toward me from the utility room. “We have that spare bedroom used for sewing.” My father and I had always shared a special bond.
I wouldn’t mention how difficult living with my sister-in-law would be, particularly if she kept reminding me of my past. Yet I had no right to complain after the embarrassment I’d caused the family by pining away for Jake Miller for seven years. Not to mention the troubling rumors about
