Chapter 17
Would the other women canning in her sister-in-law Frannie’s kitchen mind if Jocelyn ripped off her glasses, her prayer covering, her apron, her black sneakers, and her matching socks? Probably.
Jocelyn settled for sticking her head through the kitchen’s open window.
The breeze did little to cool her sweaty face.
Everyone kept talking about how spring refused to give way to summer, but so far May had been plenty hot for Jocelyn.
“Hot flashes?”
Elizabeth Miller joined Jocelyn.
Her round face was as red as Jocelyn’s felt.
“I think I may be the first case of human spontaneous combustion any day now.”
Her comical tone made Jocelyn laugh.
Her children had inherited their blue eyes and dimples from Elizabeth and possibly their sense of humor.
“I’m not sure if it’s hot flashes or the heat in the kitchen.”
Or the discussion she’d just had with Uri followed by a surprising conversation with Theo.
Or all three.
Canning required a huge rectangular steel canner filled with boiling water.
A dozen Mason jars filled with chopped pork had been in Frannie’s canner on the wood-burning stove.
The steam hung in the kitchen like fog.
“I guess I should be glad we’re not doing this in August.”
Plenty of Englischers would argue meat canning should be done with a pressure cooker, but Plain folks had been using the hot bath method—even for low-acid foods—for generations.
It was a matter of knowing how long to bathe the jars at high temperatures.
And paying attention to foods that didn’t pass the smell test later down the road.
“True.
One advantage to using a pressure cooker is it goes a lot faster, but Frannie prefers the hot bath.
Anyhoo, I brought a gallon of my hot-flash tea.”
Elizabeth held up a glass of murky liquid.
“It’s made with sarsaparilla, shatavari root, red clover, licorice root, sage, raspberry leaves, and lemongrass for a nice citrus twist.
I grew most of them myself.
It’s gut for hot flashes, depression, low libido, bloating, mood swings, being tired—you name it.
I even brought ice.”
Elizabeth was known for her herb garden, along with her love of native flowering plants.
And matchmaking.
Successful matchmaking, if the grapevine tidbits were true.
What did she think of Elijah’s plan to sell his toys at Bonnie’s shop? Moreover, how would she feel about a daughter-in-law with SMA?
“I’ll help myself. Danki.”
Jocelyn turned away so Elijah’s mother couldn’t see her expression.
Bonnie would be a good wife and mother.
She would need some extra help, but Jocelyn stood ready to offer it.
Grandchildren would be such a blessing after her inability to have more children.
Elizabeth, with her nine children and multiple grandchildren, surely understood the joys of both. How did a person broach such a delicate subject? If Jocelyn were Elizabeth, she’d jump in with both feet. Or an open mouth. “I better see what Frannie wants me to do.”
“I helped chop the pork and filled the jars for the next batch.”
Elizabeth followed along behind Jocelyn.
“I reckon this batch is ready to come out of the bath.”
Frannie confirmed Elizabeth’s observation.
Using long rubber-tipped tongs perfect for the job, Jocelyn transferred the jars to a towel spread on the cabinet.
Sweat dripped down her forehead into her eyes.
She stood back as far as she dared from the steam.
If the jar slipped back into the canner, it could splash her with scalding water. The first jar made it safely to the towel. Eleven to go. Number two came out of the water without a fight.
“So I think my Elijah has a hankering to court your Bonnie.”
Jocelyn let go of the jar.
It plopped back into the canner.
Water splashed.
It sloshed on her hand and forearm.
She jolted back. “Ouch! Ouch!”
The tongs clattered to the floor.
Jocelyn danced around like a kernel of popcorn in hot oil.
The burning sensation intensified. “Ouch.”
“Me and my big mouth!”
Elizabeth took Jocelyn’s arm and guided her to a chair by the kitchen table.
“Es dutt mer.
I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Nee, you didn’t.”
Jocelyn cradled her arm against her chest.
“It was my fault.”
“I’ll get my B you just wait and see.”