Chapter 10
On Service Sunday, a line of black buggies wound its way through the verdant hills, under the shade of far-reaching elms, back into pools of golden sunlight, and up toward the Schrock farm.
It was the Schrock family’s turn to host. Every family took a turn hosting the Service Sunday worship on their property about once a year.
Tabitha and her daet had been cleaning the house and yard and preparing the pole barn for the last week, and everything was as neat as it was going to get.
Tabitha stood outside in the warm summer sunlight and watched as their neighbors’ buggies pulled in, parking in the side field.
A couple of teenaged boys were doing the parking, lining the buggies up into perfect lines and sending the horses out to graze beyond on a picket line.
Daet only chose the most responsible boys for this task.
The men had already set up the benches from the church wagon that carried all the benches needed for a service, plus the hymnbooks for those who didn’t own their own.
Tabitha had spotted her father bringing some extra hay and oats to the field for the horses.
This was the Lord’s Day, and that was reason enough to give the horses a treat.
Tabitha had made the sweet Amish church peanut butter, and her widow friends had brought fresh loaves of bread so they had enough for everyone.
Plus there was a large pot of beef and barley soup on the stove, ready to be reheated once the second sermon started so it would be hot and ready for the after-church meal.
They always had two sermons, separated by some hymn singing, and after both sermons were complete, everyone would eat.
Tabitha shot her cousin Miri a smile when she spotted her walking across the farmyard to the pole barn, where the service would be held.
“Good morning!” Tabitha called to her.
Miri waved, and a couple of young women nearby put their heads together and started to whisper between them, sharp gazes directed toward Miri.
Tabitha recognized Tammy Froese and Verina Neufeld.
Miri either didn’t notice them or pretended not to, but she did start walking a little faster, so Tabitha thought it was the latter.
Tabitha crossed her arms over her chest as the whispering young women headed past her.
“Good morning, Tabitha,” Tammy said, giving her a nod. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“Good morning,” Tabitha replied. “It surely is.”
The young women carried on by, and Tabitha watched them go.
They were about the same age as Miri, although Tabitha didn’t know if they were friends.
But she did feel some empathy for her cousin’s situation right now.
She knew exactly how it felt to be at the center of the community’s gossip mill.
Gossiping was easy to do, but being gossiped about left a person feeling exposed and alone.
Tabitha sighed and headed back into the side door of the house and into their kitchen.
Aent Dina, Sarah Mae, and Miriam stood at one counter, pulling bowls out of a cupboard and stacking them for after the service.
Their hair varied from iron gray to snow white, and when they leaned together with their ample hips and sensible shoes, they made Tabitha feel safe and cared for.
When she’d been the one at the center of the community gossip, they’d been there for her, and she was grateful for the anchor of their friendship.
It was ironic that she had belonged most naturally with the group of widowed women, even before Tabitha was a widow herself.
But she’d experienced a devastating loss that set her outside the experiences of the other women her age, and that made her one of them. At least, that was what they told her.
Sarah Mae looked over her shoulder and shot Tabitha a smile. “Everything ready?”
“Yah, it’s ready,” Tabitha said, getting her own kitchen apron and tying it around her waist. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, dear.”
“How are people feeling about Miri right now?” Tabitha asked.
“I think they’re mostly confused,” Aent Dina said. “It’s just such a strange thing to have happened.”
“I saw some girls looking downright . . . I don’t know . . . spiteful,” Tabitha said, and she lowered her voice to keep the rest private. “It was Tammy Froese and Verina Neufeld.”
“People will settle down,” Miriam said with a shrug. “Some people are saying that Tom was in love with Miri. That’s the current drama.”
That was a nasty rumor—one that could really hurt her cousin badly. It might also explain the treatment her cousin was receiving.
“He wasn’t in love with her,” Tabitha said. “I saw enough of him in a professional capacity. And I saw him with Miri too. He was grandfatherly toward her. There was nothing untoward going on. If there were, I would have stepped in.”
“I don’t think there’s any truth in it either,” Aent Dina said.
“People are trying to make sense of that will. But honestly, I think Tom was unmarried for so long after Loretta’s death that it makes people jump to the idea that he was in love with her.
They can’t imagine him living without a woman in his life in some way.
There were rumors about Tom and Miriam once when Miriam brought him soup when he was sick about ten years ago. ”
“Oh, that was embarrassing!” Miriam said, rolling her eyes. “I had every amateur matchmaker in town trying to line us up for a wedding. I always wished Tom would just remarry so people would stop with the conjecture.”
“He was a bit of a grump, though,” Sarah Mae said. “You’d think that fifty years of marriage to his Loretta would have softened him more.”
“He was softened,” Aent Dina interjected. “But when Loretta passed, he toughened up again. I don’t think he wanted to remarry.”
The two older women turned and looked at Aent Dina, and Dina’s cheeks turned red.
It wasn’t the first time that Tabitha had wondered about her maiden great-aunt’s history, but had there been something between Tom and Dina?
Or had Dina perhaps harbored a crush? There could be a whole lot a niece didn’t know—whole romances that had never been common knowledge.
“Did he tell you that he didn’t want another wife?” Sarah Mae asked.
“He did,” Aent Dina said, straightening. “He said Loretta was the first and last for him. You have to admire that kind of love.”
Tabitha wouldn’t blame Dina for looking into some marital possibilities for herself, and a widower often found himself with more than one older woman bringing him casseroles and some comforting company. But Tom had been resolute, it seemed.
“I remember when Tom and Loretta got married,” Miriam said. “I was one of Loretta’s newehockers. And those two were madly in love. I saw them, and I told myself I wouldn’t get married until I found a love like that because I’d never be satisfied otherwise.”
“I think that Adelheide was left a little heartbroken, though, when Tom married Loretta,” Sarah Mae said with a shake of her head.
“These things happen,” Miriam murmured.
But this was a new bit of story that Tabitha had never heard before, and the name tugged at some long-forgotten memories.
“Adelheide—that’s a familiar name,” Tabitha said. “Aent Dina, didn’t I have a great-aunt Adelheide?”
The women seemed to remember Tabitha then, and they all turned at once, looking just a little bit sheepish.
“Yah, that’s Miri’s grandmother,” Aent Dina said. “She was Adelheide Mullet before she married your great-uncle Cornelius Schrock.”
“I remember Onkel Cornie,” Tabitha said. He’d been a kindly old man who liked to whittle whistles. It made him very popular amongst the kinner.
“You were quite young when Adelheide passed away,” Aent Dina confirmed. “She was a good woman. Very kind. She taught me how to make strudel, and as you know, it’s not an easy task.”
“I didn’t realize that Tom and Miri’s grandmother had been close,” Tabitha said.
“Everyone was young once, dear,” Dina chuckled.
“Do you think that Adelheide had anything to do with Tom leaving the farm to Miri?” Tabitha asked.
The women looked at each other, then shrugged.
“I don’t know,” Sarah Mae finally said. “She and Tom were friends—very close friends, actually. But they were never romantic. Were they, Miriam?”
“Nee, not that I knew,” Miriam agreed.
“Could it have been a secret? You know, how young people will date and not tell anyone until it’s serious?” Tabitha asked.
“Who’s to know?” Sarah Mae said with a low laugh.
“You said she was heartbroken when Tom married Loretta, though,” Tabitha pushed.
“It was a very long time ago,” Miriam said, “and we can thank Herr Gott that our mistakes are thrown in the deepest part of the sea, as the Good Book says.”
That was all they seemed willing to say on the subject, and yet, Tabitha couldn’t help but wonder if there was a connection.
Tom had left an entire farm to Miri Schrock for no other reason that anyone could suss out but that she’d done some cooking, cleaning, and outdoor chores for him.
That, and she loved cattle like he loved cattle.
But that didn’t seem like a strong enough reason to upend an entire will.
What if there was something more to it? If there was, it would be very helpful to Miri if they could figure it out.
Because people were starting to talk, and not in a Christianly way either.
If they could figure out what Tom had been thinking, maybe the community would put this to rest and let Miri enjoy her farm.
Tabitha looked out the window again, and she froze. Walking past the house in his regular loping gate was Jonas Peachy. He was back? The last she heard, he was in Ohio!
She rapped on the window, and he looked up. A smile broke over his face, and Tabitha hurried past the women and headed to the door.
“I’ll be back,” she said, and stepped outside. “Jonas!”
Jonas turned, and she saw some hesitation when his gaze landed on her. She smiled and waved, and he hesitated again, then turned his steps in her direction.
“You’re back,” she said, lowering her voice when he reached her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Why didn’t you come by to say hi?”
“I—” His shoulders relaxed as he looked down her. “I missed you too.”
“Yah, as you should,” she said. “Why didn’t you come by? I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”
“I know—Michael.” They exchanged a long, silent look. He knew her situation. She didn’t need to explain, and she could see the empathy in his eyes.
“Yah, Michael.” She nodded. “I don’t know how I feel about all that. The funeral is tomorrow.”
“Will you go?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I know it doesn’t mean much here, but I’m the ex-wife. I don’t belong there.”
“Yah . . .” He looked toward the barn, where the service was already starting. Was she holding him back from worship?
“What about you?” she asked. “How was Ohio? Did you frustrate that poor matchmaker?”
She was ready for a funny story—Jonas could always make her laugh—but he winced instead.
“I met someone,” he said.
Tabitha’s heart nearly stopped, and then hammered hard to catch up.
“What?” she said.
“I met someone. The matchmaker found me a match.” He cast her an apologetic look. “Great timing, huh?”
A match—the reason he’d gone. Why should that surprise her? She knew that Jonas was a catch.
“Oh . . . like, you’re getting married?” she asked.
He paused, angled his head to the side, then nodded. “Yah, I guess so. I mean, that’s the direction this is headed. You don’t call in a matchmaker to see how it goes, you know?”
“I guess not,” she breathed.
“I should get back into the service,” he said.
“Of course. I just wanted to say hi,” she said feebly.
“I’m sorry about Michael,” he said. “I’m sorry about the timing, about—”
“Don’t be.” She reached out and touched his arm. “It’s okay. You did something for yourself, and that’s good. I understand.”
“Danke.” He cast her one agonized look, and then he headed off in the direction of the barn and the distant sound of singing.
Jonas had met someone. Michael was dead. And Tabitha was free. If only she’d kept her brilliant advice for Jonas to herself. But instead she’d pushed the man right into the matchmaker’s capable hands.