Chapter 8
The clickety-clack of the rototiller blades couldn’t be heard over its small gas-powered engine’s rumbling floating through the open window in the kitchen, but it was there.
The sound promised the goodness of nature to come in the form of fresh vegetables all summer long.
Bonnie leaned against the counter in front of the sink and inhaled the mingled scent of fresh earth and not-so-enticing gas.
The sounds and smells signaled the final day of April, dwindling spring, and a prelude to summer despite a cool northern breeze.
Josie Miller handled the rototiller in the easy manner of someone who’d tilled gardens all her life.
Her sister Sherri pushed the old-fashioned—in the English world—reel mower, adding the sweet aroma of fresh-cut grass to the outdoor medley.
Bonnie had never done either.
Shaking an imaginary finger at the pity party in her brain, she picked up a bowl from the soapy dishwater and scrubbed it down.
Inside the kitchen, the aroma of baking chocolate chip–pecan cookies perfumed the air.
At Plain frolics, everyone had a job to do suited to their abilities.
She could make cookies. She could wash dishes as long as she didn’t rush. She had to make sure she had a good handle on each slippery-when-wet dish.
She hadn’t said anything to Mom, but it seemed certain her grasp had become weaker in recent months.
Getting the lid off her pill bottle had become a chore.
Making her sweet panda, monkey, elephant, and giraffe stuffed animals had become more difficult.
But not as hard as the faceless dolls the English tourists loved.
“Anytime now.”
Bonnie blinked.
She glanced at Opal.
Her friend held up her dish towel.
“You’re gathering wool while I’m waiting to dry.
At this rate we’ll never finish. What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“That’s not what the sigh says.”
“What sigh?”
The other woman rolled her eyes.
“The one that says you were thinking about how you’d rather be out there tilling the garden or cutting the grass than in here baking cookies or washing dishes with me.
Danki, by the way.”
Her best friend knew her far too well.
“Sorry.
I’m in a funk today.”
“Because your mamm insisted you come to this frolic instead of going into the store on your day off.”
The store was closed on Sundays, and Mondays were Bonnie’s day off.
Sophia and Carol piloted the ship.
By Tuesdays, Bonnie was eager to get back to work.
She’d work seven days a week if Mom would let her.
“It was convenient of them to schedule the frolic on my day off so I could be here.”
She forced a smile.
“And I like washing dishes just fine.”
As a child she’d longed to run the bases after a hit between the center and left fielders, spike the volleyball, and dunk a basketball.
She’d wanted nothing more than to help Mom prepare the earth for the vegetable and flower gardens and then do the planting.
Being outside was more fun than being cooped up inside, learning to sew, cook, and clean—as important as those tasks were and as limiting as her mobility was.
As an adult she’d put aside childish wants and learned to do well those tasks God had prepared her to do.
Like run a store.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“You’re such a kind.
Okay, so I’m resigned to doing the jobs I’m able to do.”
“More truthful.”
Opal’s smile faded.
She put both hands on the counter, lowered her head, and closed her dark-brown eyes. “Ach.”
“Are you all right?”
Bonnie tugged the towel from her friend’s grasp and dried her hands.
“Sit down.”
Fearful that Opal might faint, Bonnie stayed close to her as they walked to a chair at the kitchen table.
Her friend sank into it.
“I’m fine.
Just morning sickness, you know, morning, noon, and night.”
“Again? Already?”
The response flew from Bonnie’s mouth before she could register it.
“I mean, congratulations.
That’s wunderbarr.”
“You were right the first time.”
Opal patted her belly, still round from carrying now four-month-old Tucker.
“We were surprised too.”
“But happy.”
“Jah.
Always.
Boplin are such blessings.”
A squawk from the playpen situated next to the table punctuated her remark.
Tucker was awake.
“That was a short nap.”
The pity party was back in Bonnie’s brain.
If only she could pick up Tucker for Opal.
She could hold him for her friend, play This Little Piggy, and carry him around the house, like any person who loved babies would do.
Have tummy time on the rug with him, help him learn to crawl, then hold his hand as he learned to walk.
“I wish I could—”
“I know you do.”
Her face pale, Opal rose.
She tucked a loose lock of chestnut hair under her covering.
“It’s okay.
I’ll get him.”
“I’ll take the eppies from the oven.
I reckon you’d rather have crackers right now.”
A poor substitute, but the best she could do.
“I think Mamm has some ginger ale in the refrigerator from when I had the flu.”
Opal held her hand to her mouth.
Her words were muffled, but Bonnie caught the gist.
She didn’t want to hear about food.
Bonnie took care of the cookies.
Then she brought the crackers and a glass of ginger ale to the table.
By that time Tucker was in his mother’s arms.
They had settled into the chair at the table.
The spitting image of his daddy, he stared up at Bonnie with sleepy brown eyes.
His dark hair stuck up all over his head, leading his family to call him “Spike.”
“He recognizes Aenti Bonnie.”
Opal smiled.
She cooed at her baby.
“Don’t you, Tuck? You know your aenti.”
Aunt.
Never mother.
Try as she might, Bonnie couldn’t swallow the ache in her throat.
Being an aunt was a good role, an important one, but being a mother stood head and shoulders above it.
She cleared her throat. “You started feeling better pretty quick with Tucker. I reckon you will with this one too. Maybe this one will be a girl.”
“We’ll take either.”
Opal rearranged her clothes so she could nurse Tucker.
“This poor guy will have to learn to drink formula from a bottle soon.
My milk is about to dry up.”
She glanced up.
“Don’t look so forlorn.
You’ll have your turn.
I know you will.”
“Maybe.
If it’s Gott’s will.”
Bonnie returned to the sink and her dishwashing duties.
That way Opal couldn’t see the tears that threatened.
“If not, I’ll be content with the store and my work.”
“That’s your mamm talking.”
Opal’s tone turned scoffing.
“Or the bishop.
Don’t give up on love.
It hasn’t given up on you.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard about your accident at the store.
I heard Elijah was there when it happened.”
Despite the lack of technology, the Plain grapevine was every bit as powerful as any found in the English world. “So.”
“So.”
Opal chortled.
Tucker squawked.
“Oops.
I need to sit still.
So Elijah is your age, he’s single, and he’s a nice man.”
Yes he was single, her age, and nice.
As if that was all that was necessary to make Bonnie happy.
The man for Bonnie—for any woman—had to be much more than that.
“Elijah was there because he wants to sell his wares in the store.
That’s the only reason.”
“A perfectly gut reason.
And perfect timing.
It’ll give you two a chance to get to know each other again.”
“Have you spent any time around Elijah since we were in school?”
“Nee. So?”
“He’s every bit as shy as he was in school.
Maybe worse.”
“Ach.
That explains what happened at the auction over the weekend.”
“What? What happened?”
“My aenti told my schweschder who told my mamm that they wanted him to call an auction in Richmond on account of Jason being in the hospital.
Elijah froze.
He couldn’t do it.”
“Ach.
Poor thing.”
“Who’s a poor thing?”
Mom traipsed into the kitchen, a large-mouthed thermos swinging from both hands.
Opal’s mother, Patience, followed close behind.
“And why is he poor?”
“We were just talking about Elijah—”
“I heard what happened to him at the auction.”
Mom settled the thermos on the table.
“After the incident at the store, he must be beside himself.”
“It wasn’t an incident—”
“Whatever you call it, I’m sure he was upset and worried about it.”
Opal sat Tucker upright, adjusted her bodice, and began to pat the baby’s back.
A burp much too large to come from such a small baby bellowed.
“Goodness, I reckon you feel better.”
She turned him around and continued to feed him on the other side.
“Freezing up in front of a big crowd couldn’t have helped him feel better.”
“He and Declan are redoing the corral fence.
That north wind is chilly despite the sun.
Winter refuses to give up and let spring take charge.”
Mom proceeded to place some of the cooled cookies from an earlier batch into a plastic bag.
“You two should take them some coffee to warm them up.
And some of these eppies.
Your eppies are mighty tasty.”
Now who was matchmaking? “We haven’t finished washing the dishes.
The mixing bowl and cookie sheets pans are still on the counter.”
“Your mamm and I’ll take care of them.”
Patience opened the refrigerator and removed a small pitcher of fresh milk.
“Those young men would rather see you than us old ladies on a fine day like today.”
More matchmaking.
“Opal’s feeding Tucker.”
“I’ll be done in the time it takes them to make more kaffi.”
Opal patted Tucker’s cheek.
His dreamy brown eyes widened, but he didn’t stop eating.
“This little glutton will spit up everywhere if he doesn’t stop soon.”
More matchmaking.
“I thought you didn’t feel gut.”
“A walk outside in the fresh air will make me feel better.”
“Ha.”
“Don’t ha me.”
“Jah, don’t ha her.”
Mom grabbed the coffeepot from the stove and began filling the thermos.
She added milk and a liberal dose of sugar.
“You’re stuck inside the store all week long.
You need fresh air and sunshine.
It’s just what the doctor ordered.”
“And you might be just what the doctor ordered for someone else.”
Opal grinned at Bonnie.
“You just never know.”
Elijah had enough challenges without a woman like Bonnie sticking her nose where it didn’t go.
“We’ll see about that.”
“Gott’s will be done,”
the other three women chorused together.
“You’re narrisch.
All of you.”
Bonnie dropped a few large Styrofoam cups into her rollator’s pouch, along with the bag of cookies.
“You’ll see.”
“Jah, we will.”