Czytaj książkę: «Her New Amish Family»

Chapter Two

After Seth and Martha left, Trina washed the cups and began unpacking her suitcase. It didn’t take long. By the time she moved out of her apartment, she’d either sold or given away nearly all of her belongings and she only had a few outfits that were suitable to wear in Amish country. It wouldn’t be appropriate to dress like the Amish, but out of respect for the people she was living among she decided she’d wear dresses or skirts instead of slacks or jeans. Unfortunately, she only owned one dress and three skirts—one of which was now very dirty.

The only nonclothing items she’d brought were a framed photograph and her cell phone and solar battery charger. The photo was of her and her mother and it had been taken on a beach when they went to Cape Cod for a rare week of vacation the summer before Patience got sick. Trina had other photos saved digitally, but it was this printed one she cherished the most. In it, they were both smiling, healthy and tan, and their cheeks touched as they leaned together in a sideways embrace. One rainy afternoon as Trina and her mother strolled through the art galleries, admiring the paintings and sculptures they couldn’t afford, they’d come across an ornate picture frame. Handmade from small pieces of aqua, green and blue sea glass the artist found on the bayside, the frame reminded Trina of the ocean itself. That Christmas, Trina’s mother presented her with the frame as a gift. Trina never knew how she managed to pay for it or sneak away to buy it, but combined with the photo it held, it was Trina’s one and only prized possession.

She considered keeping the photo on the dresser in her room, so it could be the first thing she saw when she awoke, but then she decided she wanted to put it in a more visible area, somewhere she could see it all the time and draw strength from the memory. She carried it into the parlor and placed it prominently on the end table next to the sofa.

Then she considered where to store her cell phone. It wasn’t as if she’d be receiving any calls. Trina had moved to a new suburb shortly before her mother was diagnosed with cancer. She was acquainted with other teachers there but she hadn’t begun to make friends. And the church she attended was so big no one there was likely to notice her absence. Yet, knowing she’d probably need to be in touch with a realtor as well as the estate attorney her grandfather hired, Trina had purchased a solar panel charger to power her phone. She decided to set it up on the windowsill in Abe’s old bedroom, where it would get plenty of sunshine but be out of her way.

Exhausted from cleaning her apartment, packing up and traveling, Trina changed into her nightgown. She slipped beneath the quilt, which smelled of fresh winter air—Martha must have hung it on the clothesline—and shut her eyes, thinking of how protected she felt when Seth carried her to the porch. Within minutes she drifted into a deep slumber for the first time in over a year.

She woke to a banging on the door. Disoriented, she blinked several times at her surroundings. It was morning. She was in Willow Creek. The fire must have died out because the floor made her feet ache with cold. She wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and shuffled to the door. Peeking out the window, she saw Seth pacing back and forth. Oh no! I was supposed to be at his house by seven forty-five so he could review the rules for the children with me.

“It’s eight o’clock,” Seth said in greeting. “Look at you, you’re not even dressed yet.”

Trina pulled her quilt tighter around her shoulders. She understood the Amish didn’t place a high value on physical appearance, except for tidiness and modesty. She could only imagine how rumpled she appeared. “I’m so sorry. I must have overslept.”

“I thought you Englischers relied on alarm clocks.”

Rankled, she cracked, “I figured the Amish rooster would wake me.”

Something resembling a grin crinkled the skin around Seth’s eyes, but he didn’t allow it to move to his lips. “Just kumme to my house as soon as you can.”

She pulled on her clothes, brushed her hair into a ponytail and quickly scrubbed her teeth before running across the yard. When she arrived, she apologized again. “I really am sorry I’m late. I didn’t mean to oversleep.”

Seth seemed less cantankerous now. “It’s alright. Fresh air can tucker a person out.” There it was again; the kind of comment that made her wonder if he was joking or not.

“Guder mariye, Trina,” Martha said as she entered the room, her hands extended in front of her so as not to bump into anything. It seemed she only used her cane outdoors. Timothy and Tanner scooted around their grandmother, calling out their greetings, as well. Their curls bounced as they hopped up and down, unable to contain their excitement.

“Guder mariye,” Trina replied to the three of them.

“We’re going to show you the creek today,” Tanner announced.

“Neh, I don’t want you by the creek,” Seth contradicted. “It’s too dangerous. The current is too strong.”

The boys looked crestfallen but they didn’t argue. Didn’t they tell Trina they’d been to the creek just yesterday? It hadn’t rained, so the water couldn’t be any deeper. Then she realized Seth must not trust her with the children yet. She understood. In time, he’d change his mind.

“I’m sure we’ll do something else that’s just as interesting,” Trina said.

“Jah, so will you and I,” Martha chimed in. “When they take a nap, you can look through my fabric to choose what you want to make a new skirt since yours became stained yesterday.”

Trina appreciated the offer, but she had no idea how to make a skirt. “Oh, that’s alright. The stain will come out. My skirt is still wearable.”

“With the way you’ll be running after the buwe, it won’t hurt to have an extra one,” Martha said. “If it’s the material you’re worried about, don’t be concerned. I have an assortment of colors. Blue, green, even burgundy. I haven’t been able to see well enough to sew for ages. It will be gut to know the fabric isn’t going to waste.”

“I don’t think it’s the color of the fabric she’s worried about, Groossmammi,” Seth quietly pointed out. “The Englisch don’t sew like we do.”

Trina bristled. Why did Seth constantly call attention to how different the Englisch were from the Amish? “Don’t be lecherich. Plenty of Englischers sew their own clothes.” She used a couple of Deitsch words to emphasize she wasn’t completely unaware of Amish culture.

“And you’re one of them?” Seth pressed.

Trina felt her cheeks burning. Her mother had tried to teach her to sew, but Trina never had the inclination. “Yes, I can sew my own clothes. I can hem them, anyway.”

Seth snorted. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Just how much do you know about sewing clothes?” Martha chastised him. “As fine as your leather stitching is, I have yet to see you make your own britches, my dear bu.”

Trina’s gratitude for the woman surged. It was obvious Seth wouldn’t contend with Martha. He set his hat on his head and buttoned his wool coat.

“The buwe’s chore for the day is to rid the front yard of sticks,” he instructed Trina. “And they must lie down for an hour in the afternoon, whether they sleep or not.”

“Don’t worry,” Martha said, answering for Trina. “I’ll fill Trina in on everything she needs to know. Now, since you were so worried about being late, you’d better skedaddle.”

After the door closed behind Seth, Trina released her breath. In her experience as a teacher, the parents were often more difficult to manage than the preschoolers were. I should tell Seth that’s one way the Englisch and the Amish are alike, she thought, chuckling to herself.

* * *

Because Seth was in a hurry, he’d forgotten to put on his gloves so he blew on his fingers as he walked to town. He could have taken the buggy, but that would have meant leaving his shop several times a day to make sure the horse was watered, fed and dry—and it looked like rain. Or snow. It was difficult to tell at this time of year.

Besides, he liked the walk and the shop was only about a mile and a half away. He used the time to mentally prepare for work and ask the Lord to guide him in his interactions with the customers, especially the Englisch ones. When Seth moved from Ohio to Willow Creek, all the stores on Main Street were taken. He’d made it his goal to one day open a shop there, because that’s where most of the Englisch customers and tourists came through town. While he had a healthy business selling harnesses and other horse leatherworks to the Amish, the Englisch had little need for such items. Instead, they wanted custom-designed purses, belts and wallets, and they wanted them at their convenience.

Since the workshop at his home was slightly off the beaten path, Seth had recognized that, in order to increase business, he had to meet his customers’ needs—or their preferences—and he watched and waited for one of the Amish business owners to relinquish their prime real estate on Main Street. When one of the bigger spaces recently opened up, Seth jumped at the chance to lease it. It was a stretch for him financially, but the space was so big it allowed him to have a workshop in the back in addition to the storefront where he could display and sell his wares. He figured in time the sales would be worth the initial investment.

Now that I’m paying Trina to watch the buwe, I’ll have an added expense I hadn’t counted on until school lets out, he thought.

As he contemplated his sons’ care, Seth asked the Lord to watch over Trina as she cared for the boys. Once again he second-guessed his decision to hire her. Martha seemed to think highly of Trina, but then, his grandmother had an unusual gift for making people feel welcome and needed—that’s how Seth felt when he moved in with the boys, who were only newborns at the time. What would he have done without Martha’s help? He supposed the least he could do now was make more of an effort to show a modicum of hospitality toward Trina, since Martha had shown an abundance toward him.

He was so lost in thought that when he arrived at his shop, he was startled to find three Englisch women standing on the doorstep, peeking through the window into the store. In his experience, the Englisch customers tended to be more impatient than the Amish. It seemed to him Englischers were often in a rush and they expected others to be in a rush, too, whereas Seth felt if he couldn’t do a job both quickly and well, he’d rather do it well than quickly.

“We were afraid you were closed for the day!” one of them said.

“Neh, just for the first ten minutes,” Seth replied with a grin as he keyed into the shop. He found humor often kept him from becoming too stressed and his customers appreciated it, too. Especially the Englisch ones, who often seemed taken aback initially, as if they were under the impression the Amish were humorless dullards. But they usually ended up smiling back.

Sure enough, the women giggled as Seth held the door open for them. Soon after, a few more customers trickled in. Seth noticed one of them discreetly lifting a cell phone and he knew he was being photographed. He had half a mind to post a sign forbidding cell phones and cameras in the store, but he decided if people weren’t going to voluntarily respect his beliefs and privacy, it was useless to try to make them do so.

By the end of the day he was relieved to walk home and when he went through the door, the boys bounded into the kitchen to greet him as they usually did.

“Guess what, Daed,” Tanner said. “Trina taught us an Englisch song.”

“And we had lots and lots of vegetation for dinner,” Timothy claimed.

“You mean vegetables,” Seth corrected him.

“Neh, it was vegetation.”

Just then Trina entered the room and said above the boys’ heads, “Hungerich bucks need a lot of vegetation to stay strong.”

Ah, so that was it. Seth had to smile. He and Martha had a difficult time getting the boys to eat any vegetables except potatoes and corn. If Trina had been able to get the boys to eat more greens by appealing to their interest in animals, that was terrific. But he drew the line at teaching them Englisch songs.

“Buwe, please go into the other room while I talk to Trina,” he said. After they scampered away, he asked Trina how her day went.

“It was gut,” she said. He noticed she was using Deitsch words more frequently already. “The buwe picked up the sticks in the front yard and half the sticks on the west side of the house, too. They sure have a lot of energy.”

Seth nodded before getting to the point. “They said you taught them an Englisch song. May I hear it?”

He saw a look of confusion pass over Trina’s face before her cheeks broke into a blush. He regretted embarrassing her, but he had to be sure the boys weren’t being taught songs about superheroes or other ideas that were contrary to Amish beliefs.

“It’s more like a poem than a song. At least it was the way I presented it,” she said and her usually mellifluous voice was marked with defiance.

“All the same, I’d like to hear it.”

Trina exhaled audibly and then began, “One, two, buckle my shoe...” She continued reciting the verse until she got to the number ten, at which point she said, “That’s as high as we went. I was trying to teach them how to count while they were doing yard work.”

“I see,” Seth said. He’d been taught that same verse as a child and he felt as foolish as he’d obviously made Trina feel. Still, he wasn’t sorry he asked her to tell him how the song went. “We didn’t have time this morning to discuss what kinds of activities are appropriate for Amish kinner, so I just wanted to be sure—”

“There you are, Seth,” Martha interrupted from the doorway. “It smells like supper is about ready, isn’t it, Trina?”

Trina peeked inside the oven. “Jah, it’s bubbling,” she confirmed, removing the pan from the rack and setting the chicken-and-cheese casserole on a hot pad on the table. “You should let it cool a bit before you eat it. And don’t forget the asparagus. It’s steaming on the back burner.”

“I thought you were going to stay for supper. You know we made plenty,” Martha said.

So much for demonstrating hospitality; Seth knew he was the reason Trina changed her mind about supping with them. “Jah¸ you should stay,” he echoed.

“Denki, but I need to be on my way. I’ll arrive a few minutes early tomorrow, Seth, so we’ll have plenty of time to review your list of restrictions about the kinner with me.”

“There’s no list,” he mumbled feebly, but Trina didn’t seem to hear as she zipped her jacket. Unfortunately, Martha was listening intently, and from the look on her face, Seth was going to get an earful about his attitude tonight after the boys were in bed.

* * *

Completely humiliated, Trina slinked home. After spending most of the morning and afternoon outside with the boys, her appetite was raging in a way she hadn’t experienced since before her mother took ill. But there’d been no way she was going to sit down at a table with that smug, controlling Seth Helmuth. She respected that Amish people abided by their church’s Ordnung, and without knowing what it said herself, it was possible she might have accidentally violated one of its precepts. But she’d felt like a criminal when Seth demanded she recite the song like that. She hoped he felt utterly ridiculous when he heard how it went!

In the kitchen, she removed her jacket and hung it on the peg beside the door. Almost immediately she took it back down and put it on again. It was freezing in there. Now she was cold as well as hungry. How was she going to go grocery shopping? The stores within walking distance closed by the time Seth returned home and she didn’t have a car. What was she going to subsist on? Water and Willow Creek’s superior fresh air?

She went into the parlor and lit a fire in the woodstove. Then she looked around for her handbag, which contained half a packet of crackers with peanut butter she’d bought at the train station. When she found it, she gobbled a cracker and then brought the rest into the kitchen where she put the kettle on to fix a cup of the tea Martha had left for her. Once the water came to a boil, Trina filled a mug, put the crackers on a plate and sat down next to the woodstove.

Even with her jacket on and the warm cup in her hands, she was shivering, so she retrieved the quilt from her bed and wrapped herself in it before returning to her chair. The silence was punctuated only by the ticking clock and Trina understood why her mother had felt like time stood still in Willow Creek. Trina had only been there two days and it already seemed like a lifetime. It was enough to make her want to pack her bags right then.

Of course, Trina’s mother had had a far more significant reason to leave Willow Creek behind: Abe Kauffman. But as miserable as her mother’s life with Abe had been, she’d rarely spoken against him in detail. Patience had only described how, after her own mother died, her father changed.

“Mind you, he never lifted a hand against me,” she told Trina. “But he wouldn’t lift a hand toward me, either. Not to help me, not to embrace me. He hardly spoke a word to me. It was as if I didn’t exist—as if I had died when my mother did. All that existed was his bottle of beer. So, in a way, I felt as if he’d died, too. At eight years of age, I felt orphaned.”

No wonder her mother had never wanted to return to this house. When Trina was young and used to ask her mother if they could visit Willow Creek, Patience’s face would cloud with sadness as she said no, it was better for everyone if they didn’t. “We’re happy right where we are, aren’t we?” she’d ask Trina, and Trina always answered yes because it was true. As long as they were together, they were happy. Trina sniffed as she realized her mother would never be with her again. Did that mean Trina would never be happy again, either? She knew she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on such thoughts or she’d never make it through her time in Willow Creek, so she prayed the Lord would give her peace and then she went to draw a bath.

But before she reached the washroom, there was a knock at the door. In the kitchen, Trina peered through the door’s glass pane to see Seth holding a plate wrapped in tin foil in one hand and Martha’s basket from yesterday in the other.

“Yes?” she said coldly after opening the door.

“My groossmammi sent these for you,” he replied, lifting the items in her direction.

Since they were from Martha, Trina couldn’t refuse them. “Please tell her I said denki.” She reached for the plate but Seth held on to the basket, stepping into the kitchen uninvited.

“How’s the mouse situation?” he asked. “Did the trap do the trick?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked.”

He set the basket on the table, crossed the room and pried the cupboard open. To Trina’s relief, he announced, “Neh, nothing yet.” Then he closed the cupboard and rubbed his arms. “Seems a little cold in here. I can show you how to get a gut fire roaring if you’d like.”

Trina didn’t know why he was suddenly being so congenial, but she wished he’d leave. Not just because she was still miffed, but because the aroma of the meal he brought was making her feel even more famished and she could hardly wait to eat. “Actually, I’m rather warm,” she said, tossing her ponytail.

“I imagine you are,” Seth replied, his lips twitching. “Wearing a quilt has that effect on people.”

Trina rolled her eyes and shrugged the quilt from her shoulders. She folded it into a misshapen square, which she held in front of her stomach to muffle the growling sound it was making. “I suppose I could add another log to the fire.”

“I’ll grab a couple more from outside, since the bin in the parlor is probably low,” Seth volunteered and exited the house before Trina could object.

As soon as he left, Trina lifted an edge of the tinfoil from the plate and dug into the casserole with a fork. When Seth returned, her mouth was full, but she mumbled, “Denki for bringing those in, but I’ve gone camping before, so I’m capable of stoking the fire myself.”

“Is that what you think being Amish means? It’s like going camping?”

Why was he suddenly defensive again? “No, that’s what I think lighting a fire is like,” Trina clarified after swallowing. “If you’ve built one outside, you can build one inside.”

“Actually, that’s not necessarily true. Kumme, let me show you.”

She reluctantly put her supper down and went into the parlor with him.

“Ah,” he said when he opened the door to the woodstove. “Look at this.”

Trina crouched down beside him. She watched his hands gesturing as he spoke, oddly aware those were the same strong hands that had lifted her the day before.

“You’ve done alright with the kindling, but you’ve piled the logs too tightly together,” he explained, not unkindly. “There needs to be a little room between them for the oxygen to get through. Otherwise, the logs won’t take and the flame will burn out like it has now. It’s better if you stack them like this.”

As she listened to him, it occurred to Trina he would make a good teacher. She glanced sideways at his face, noticing the reddish undertone to his short beard. She wondered if it would feel like his wool coat had felt against her cheek. Suddenly her skin burned and she knew she couldn’t attribute its warmth to the fire now crackling in the stove.

“Denki,” she said, standing up.

Seth rose, too, saying, “I want to apologize if I embarrassed you when I asked you to tell me the song you taught the buwe.”

If Trina’s face hadn’t felt hot before, it would have now under Seth’s earnest gaze. “It’s alright,” she conceded, and suddenly, it was.

She realized if a virtual stranger—especially one who had traditions that were different from her own—came to watch her children, she’d give them guidelines about what the kids could and couldn’t do. In fact, when she used to babysit as a teenager, parents always told her what the house rules were. It wasn’t personal, she’d just taken it that way because of Seth’s comments about her being Englisch. But maybe she was the one who was being defensive because he was Amish, instead of vice versa. Or maybe it was a little of both.

“I respect the way you’re raising your kinner and I want to instruct the buwe according to your guidelines,” she said. “Do you have a few minutes to talk about that now?”

“Jah.” Seth grinned, and his jawline visibly softened as he sank into the sofa.

First, Trina hoped she put Seth’s mind at ease by telling him she shared his strong Christian faith. Then they briefly discussed his expectations of the boys as well as their interests and the activities they were forbidden to do. Nothing Seth mentioned seemed unduly prohibitive or out of the ordinary to Trina, but she was glad they’d had the discussion anyway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then?” Seth confirmed as he was leaving.

Did Trina catch a note of uncertainty in his voice? “Jah, I’ll be there bright and early at seven forty-five,” she assured him.

“Then I’ll be sure to set the rooster for six forty-five,” he said over his shoulder before closing the door, and Trina laughed in spite of herself.

Her supper had cooled but she didn’t care. The casserole was so delicious she couldn’t believe she’d made it herself—well, with advice from Martha. Trina never had much interest in cooking, aside from a few traditional Amish desserts her mother taught her to make. Usually by the time she returned home from work she was so hungry and worn out she would just to throw a meal into the microwave.

She was pleased to see the basket contained eggs, milk and half a loaf of bread. Martha was as thoughtful and generous as Trina’s mother had said she was. Her tummy full, Trina washed the dishes and before she got ready for bed, she retrieved her cell phone and set its alarm. She didn’t want to be late again, especially now that she and Seth were on better terms with each other.

* * *

Once he’d cleared the air with Trina, Seth felt more comfortable having her mind the boys, who relished their time with her. Each evening when he came to the door, they regaled him with anecdotes about the adventures they’d had with her during the day. And although his grandmother had always been lively, she seemed even sprightlier now. Seth couldn’t tell whether that was because Trina had taken over the boy’s care, or because Martha enjoyed having the company of another woman, but he was pleased the arrangement was off to a good start.

On Saturday he woke to the racket of raindrops pummeling the rooftop and he eased out of bed. After milking the cow, he collected eggs from the henhouse. Usually this was Tanner and Timothy’s responsibility, but it was raining too hard to allow them to go outside.

When Seth returned to the house, Tanner was standing in the kitchen, knuckling his eyes sleepily. “Daed, is it time for Trina to kumme yet?”

“She doesn’t kumme until you and your brother have changed into your clothes, eaten your breakfast and brushed your teeth. I already collected the oier because it’s raining and I don’t want you to go outside today unless it stops.”

“We’re teaching Trina how to collect oier, too, but she’s afraid to put her hand in the coop. She thinks the hinkel will peck her. Groossmammi told us it isn’t kind to laugh at her so we never do,” Tanner reported solemnly. Then he corrected himself, admitting, “We did laugh the first time, Daed. But we never do anymore. Not even when she’s scared and she jumps like this.”

Tanner’s imitation of Trina’s jitters reminded Seth of how she’d flinched when he opened the cupboard to check for the mouse, and he suppressed a chuckle. “Groossmammi is right. It isn’t kind to laugh at Trina. Most Englischers buy their eggs in a store, but in time she’ll learn how to collect oier from the henhouse. Now go wake your brother.”

Tanner obediently thumped back upstairs. Meanwhile, Martha shuffled into the room. Anticipating her question, Seth said, “Guder mariye, Groossmammi. I haven’t made kaffi yet but I’ll get it started as soon as I put these oier in the pot to boil.”

“Denki, but I can fix breakfast for us.” Martha removed a pot from the cupboard. With her back to him, she added, “Don’t stand there watching me. I still know my way around a pot of oier. I only had an accident the other day because I wasn’t used to Abe’s stove.”

Seth left the room to wash his hands, returning a few minutes later with Timothy and Tanner. After breakfast Martha served coffee while the boys went to brush their teeth.

Seth took a long pull from his mug and then said, “I probably won’t be home until around suppertime tonight.”

“Why not? You don’t keep the shop open past two o’clock on Saturdays during winter.”

Even though his grandmother knew he intended to eventually visit a matchmaker in the neighboring Elmsville district, Seth felt embarrassed to remind her about it now. “I, uh, I’m going to see Belinda Imhoff this afternoon.”

Martha stopped sipping her coffee. “Ah, I see. Then I guess we’ll have to do our shopping at the Englisch market tonight instead of the one on Main Street this afternoon.”

“If you write out a list for me, I can pick up what you need before I set off to Elmsville. It’s chilly enough that the perishables will keep in the buggy until I get home.”

“Neh, I’d rather go. It will get me out of the house. Besides, Trina will need to kumme shopping, too.”

“Trina? With us?” Seth questioned.

“Jah. In case you haven’t noticed, she doesn’t have a car and it wouldn’t do her any gut to walk to the market in town, since it’s closed by the time you return in the evenings. I don’t know how she has any stamina to keep up with the boys. I try to get her to eat more at dinnertime, but she refuses. I think she feels as if she should bring her own dinner, which is lecherich.”

“Neh, I doubt that’s it. She’s probably just on a diet. You know how the Englisch are.”

“I know how people are. Englisch or Amish, they need food in their houses.”

Seth pulled on his beard. As grateful as he was for Trina’s help, he worried about the boys becoming confused about her role in their lives. This was only a temporary employment situation. If Martha kept treating Trina like one of the family, it could lead to disappointment for Timothy and Tanner once she left.

“I don’t think it’s a gut idea for her to accompany us to the market,” he said.

“Jah, you’re right.” Martha gave in so easily it surprised Seth—until she proposed, “She’d probably prefer going to the market alone anyway. So, instead of going to see Belinda Imhoff this afternoon, perhaps you could kumme home and teach Trina how to hitch the buggy and handle the horse. That way, she’ll be all set to go to the market on her own during the day on Monday. I’ll watch the kinner while she’s gone. If they’re napping, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Seth shook his head incredulously. “Neh. She’s not going to use my horse and buggy any more than I’d drive her car.”

“Gut. Then you’ll put off going to Elmsville this afternoon so we can all make it to the market in town before it closes,” Martha stated as if it were a done deed.

Although frustrated, Seth knew he couldn’t compete with his grandmother’s cunning logic. “Alright. She can accompany us to the Englisch store in Highland Springs tonight.”

His grandmother smiled in his direction. “The buwe will be delighted.”

On that note, Timothy and Tanner scrambled into the room, dragged a chair to the window and climbed atop it together to watch for Trina.

“There she is,” shouted Timothy. They got down and ran to open the door.

“Hurry, Trina. It’s raining!” Tanner called, as if she wasn’t aware.

“Guder mariye,” she sang out, shaking raindrops from her long hair after she hung up her jacket. “What a wunderbaar day.”

“You’re joking now but wait until you’ve been shut indoors all day,” Seth said. “I don’t want the buwe going outside. Do you hear me, Timothy and Tanner?”

“Jah, Daed,” they chorused.

“That’s alright. We’re going to play a rainy-day animal game inside. It’s called Noah’s Ark,” Trina promised and the boys capered in circles around her. Turning to Seth she added, “If I remember correctly, Bible stories are permitted, jah?”

Seth’s ears and forehead stung. She was being cheeky, but it didn’t feel offensive like the brazen remarks some of his Englisch customers made. “Of course Bible stories are allowed, provided they’re in German, since that’s the language our Bibles are printed in and the language our preachers speak when they’re delivering a sermon.”

“Naturlich werde ich sprechen Deutsche.” In German Trina said of course she’d speak in German. Seth had only meant to be facetious. He didn’t realize she actually knew the language. Once again, he felt his face flush.

But his ultimate embarrassment came when his grandmother bid him goodbye. “Mach’s gut, Seth. I hope your meeting with the matchmaker goes well. We’ll have supper on the table and you can tell us all about it tonight!”

The youth in Willow Creek usually made a rigorous effort to keep their courtships private, even from their family members. Since Seth had already been married once, he didn’t exercise the same level of discretion about courtship when speaking with his grandmother now as he would have when he was younger. Still, he was thoroughly abashed to have her announce his intention of going to a matchmaker in front of Trina. Realizing his humiliation wasn’t so much because Trina was Englisch as it was because she was a woman, he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.