Oh, dear. Had I thanked Beatrice for her generosity? I owed her my gratitude.
I showered and dressed hurriedly, but then I spent extra time parting my hair in the middle, putting on a clean kapp, and checking for miscreant hairs.
I glanced at my new shoes sitting by the door on a mat. My black leather shoes were coated with mud and needed a thorough shining. No time. I would wear my Nikes. I looked forward to a day without foot pain in my spiffy new shoes. Perhaps a day without pain at all. I needed to be optimistic, anxious for nothing.
I envisioned my parents sitting in our kitchen, Dat bowing his head as he led silent prayer. But chances were my parents would choose to eat breakfast in the daadi haus, which contained a small kitchen. Waking up to find Marta orchestrating her home would be difficult for Mamm. My brother’s children would be chattering as they finished their chores and got ready for school. According to Reuben, Marta was a quintessential cook.
Once I was ready to leave, I slid my feet into my new cushy socks and then my new shoes. I tied them and stood. Ah, comfort. Many younger Amish women wore them. Maybe one reason few single men ever noticed me was they thought I was too old fashioned. Even if I were almost thirty, today I would make a gigantic effort to be outgoing and fun, like Olivia and Sadie, who wore athletic shoes when not in church. Most of our customers at the fabric store had found me personable. But then again, they were female, and we had a common bond: sewing and quilting.
I checked out the door and was glad not to see Beatrice already sweeping the back porch or tending the herb garden. I carried the jars of beef stock in my Nike bag so I couldn’t possibly drop them.
The sky stretched blue, like a vast ocean blushing with pink. I should check the weather report later in case another storm was predicted. I prayed silently for clear skies. Then a tumble of requests came to mind. One was to see Jake. A foolish request, but I needed my questions answered. Was he indeed married? If so, maybe that fact would set me free. I could move on and quit circling back to the past. Mamm had assured me it wasn’t too late to find a spouse. She’d hinted that marrying a widower might be a good solution. With Jake out of the picture, I might consider it. And then there was young Mark, who made me feel old. Although I didn’t experience a tingle of attraction, in the long run what would that initial magnetism matter? My parents had aged like a pair of comfy slippers.
Outside, I was tempted to inspect the maple tree’s damage, but I didn’t want Beatrice to catch sight of me. She’d be sure to accompany me to the café and take over my soup preparation.
As I neared the café, Missy and her enormous pup galumphed toward me and sniffed the bag.
“This isn’t for you.” I noticed my dread for them was diminishing by increments. Good. I would overcome my fears one at a time.
I found the door locked and used my key to open it. Once in the kitchen, I heated up the beef broth and eight cups of water, and then I added the barley, tomato juice, peas, and beans. I chopped onions and celery to add in an hour. I remembered the stewing beef in the refrigerator. Thankfully, it was partially thawed. I tossed it in and hoped it wasn’t too early, that all these ingredients wouldn’t turn to mush by the time customers wanted lunch.
“Have you put in salt and pepper?” Beatrice’s voice startled me.
My hand moved to the salt. “I was just about to.” What? I was starting the day off with a lie? “That’s not true. The recipe said add salt and pepper to taste, so I was waiting.” I looked into her sleep-creased face and added, “Maybe you could help me with that later if you have the time.”
Her features softened, a grin widening her thin lips. “Yes, I’d be glad to help. Happy to. Con piacere.”
Her expression transformed when she noticed my feet. “Have you checked to see if those running shoes comply with your Ordnung?”
“I should’ve thought to do that before I purchased them.” I wanted to ask her why she cared, but I didn’t want to hear her opinions.
“Bishop Harvey comes in once a week. Perhaps today. He can assess your footwear. Surely by now he knows you came back yesterday in a police car and will wish to speak to you. Or he might send Deacon Benjamin and a minister to gather facts.”
An Englisch woman was meddling in my personal affairs. To change the subject, and also because I needed to voice my thanks, I said, “Beatrice, I’m very grateful for the beef stock. Please forgive me if I didn’t thank you properly last night.”
Her plump face veritably beamed, her cheeks turning rosy. “No problem. The lightning had us all on edge.” She stirred my warming vat. “Let me know anytime I can help you. There’s not enough to keep an old woman busy all the time in the big house by herself. Maybe you’d like to join me for supper tonight.”
I hesitated as I envisioned an awkward encounter, but I couldn’t refuse her hospitality. “Thank you very much. I’d love a home-cooked meal.” I couldn’t imagine what we’d converse about.
“Unless you were planning to meet someone?” she said.
“You mean a man? No.”
“We need to find you a husband—unless you’re holding out for Jake Miller, a foolish endeavor. Presenza di acqua sotto il ponte. I mean, water under the bridge.”
“Do you know anything about him? I mean, recent news?” My voice rose in pitch like
