“Yah, I know, but—”
“Now, now. Most everyone in the county has forgotten those rumors.”
“I wish that were true, but last month in the fabric store I noticed two women staring at me and whispering.”
“Is it possible you overreacted? Were they one of us or Englisch tourists?”
“Probably tourists, but—”
“There’s your answer. Are you not used to Englischers gawking at you by now?”
“Denki, Dat.” My father was the kindest man on earth.
“We’ve been taught that the Lord abhors malicious gossip. ‘Death and life are in the power of the tongue.’ ” He jiggled the reins and steered the mare away from the greenhouses toward the far end of the parking lot. A three-story white house with black shutters framing the windows grabbed my attention. Even under the grayish sky the structure’s brightness made me stare. Next to the house, a colossal maple tree spread mammoth limbs not yet bearing unfurling leaves.
“Is that the owner’s house?”
“Sure is. And his new Englisch wife’s.” Dat turned to me, his eyes sympathetic. “They both married later in life. He’s in his early forties and she’s in her late thirties. They already have a child.”
His heart was in the right place. He was trying to make me believe I could still bear children at my age. I’d let my parents down by not giving them grandchildren.
Dat seemed oblivious to my musings. “The owner did a fine job fixing up this old house. It was run-down when he purchased it.”
“Yah, it’s a beautiful home. But where’s the cottage where I’ll live?”
“Hold on.” He brought the mare to a halt and waved an arm to an Amish worker, who strode over to us.
“Can you help?” Dat asked. “We wish to speak to the owner, Glenn Yoder.”
“Glenn’s out of town.” The young man’s gaze wandered over to me before returning to Dat. “And our manager, Stephen, is running an errand.” He gave me another looking over. “Is this the new girl? We weren’t expecting her yet.”
He’d called me a girl? I sighed. I was ten years this lad’s senior. But I was used to being called a girl by Englisch customers in the fabric store.
“Yah, this is my dochder.” Dat’s tone was friendly. “We’re looking for the place where she’ll live, if that’s all right.”
“Of course. Stephen said you could move right in. The cabin is around back of the big house. The Yoders’ housekeeper is in the main house, and she has a key if it’s locked.”
“Denki.” Dat clucked to the mare, and she rolled us forward, skirting the house.
“A cabin? Olivia said it was a cottage.”
He fingered the reins. “What’s the difference?”
“Nothing, I suppose.” Men and women each saw the world from a different perspective, I reminded myself.
Not far from the house stood a sturdy cream-colored structure with a hunter-green door. A rocking chair rested on its narrow porch. In a couple of front windows, forest-green shades were rolled partway down.
Dat hauled back on the reins and jumped out of the buggy. He tied the mare to a hitching post, mounted the porch’s three wooden steps, and strode to the front door.
I sat, paralyzed. I couldn’t recall ever being so anxious.
“Evie, you look like you saw a ghost. Are you okay?”
“Guess I’m a little naerfich.” To put it mildly.
“No need to be nervous.” He knocked, waited a moment, and then turned the knob. The door opened. “Guess they don’t keep it locked.”
I climbed out, landing hard. The earth beneath my feet seemed to undulate, but I steadied myself as I grabbed the handle of the wicker basket.
I walked up the steps. “Maybe you’d better go in first.” I motioned to Dat. “What if someone’s in there and just didn’t hear your knock?” I often pretended I was fearless, but I was barely strong enough to carry the basket.
Dat chuckled as he stepped inside. “Come on, dochder. It’s nice in here.”
I peeked around him to see a tidy room with a single bed against the far wall, and a small couch and a propane lamp—its tank housed in a wooden base—near a fireplace. I could tell a woman or two had spent time cleaning this cabin. The white porcelain sink under a paned window and the kitchen counter were spotless. On either side of the counter stood a gas stove and a small propane refrigerator. Through a partially opened door I saw a bathroom—a white-tiled cubicle with a shower and a sink with a mirror above it. Nice!
The walls were painted a buttermilky cream, and the varnished solid wood kitchen cabinets, trim, and bathroom door were honey-colored. The taupe linoleum floor begged for some throw rugs, but all in good time.
Dat hauled my suitcase inside, and then we brought in the rest of my belongings. I strolled over to the bed and pulled back the blanket to see clean white sheets. Good. I’d forgotten to bring my own linens. “My quilt will fit on this nicely.”
“You’re all set.” He kissed my cheek. “I best be getting back to see how your bruder and his family are doing, not to mention helping your mamm get settled in the daadi haus.”
“Leaving already?” I had a panicky feeling in the back of my throat. “If only the owner were here to greet me. I’d planned to come meet him in person before moving in.”
“He’ll no doubt be back soon and you’ll have your chance.”
“Wait. Are you sure this is all right?” My voice came out with a quaver, sounding so timid I barely recognized it.
“Glenn Yoder is a fine man, even if he broke his parents’ hearts by not joining the Amish church. He married an Englisch woman older than you are. And like I said, she gave birth to their first child several months ago.”
Maybe there was still hope for me.
TWO
As I listened to Dat’s buggy roll away, I second-guessed my decision to move here. I’d been hired on Olivia’s recommendation without a proper interview. If I
