Chapter 18
MONDAY MORNING, WHILE EATING brEAKFAST, Ivan decided to tell his parents and siblings that he’d asked Emma if he could court her and she’d said yes. He waited for a lull in the conversation, then jumped right in at the opportune moment with what had occurred last night when he’d asked Emma.
“That’s wunderbarr!” Jane, who sat beside Ivan, reached over and patted his arm.
His other siblings and father all nodded in agreement. Ivan looked over at his mother, surprised that she hadn’t said anything. He was about to ask what she thought, when she spoke up.
“I understand why you’d be happy about courting a sweet girl like Emma,” Mama said. “In fact, my mother’s intuition told me this might be coming. However, I am a little worried about how things will go when Emma returns home.”
“It’s a valid concern, Ida Mae,” Ivan’s father interjected. “But our son isn’t a child anymore, and if he’s comfortable courting Emma, knowing she will be returning home in a few months, then we shouldn’t worry about how it will turn out.”
Ivan bit his lip to keep from smiling, thankful that his dad had stuck up for him. It didn’t happen very often, especially during work hours at the harness shop.
“I agree with Papa,” Jane chimed in. “Ivan is old enough and has the right to make his own decisions.”
Ivan appreciated his sister’s approval, but he was bothered by the fact that their mother had thrown cold water on the joy he’d felt in telling his family the good news.
Did Mama believe there might be someone better for Ivan, or was she worried that he would be hurt if Emma broke up with him when she returned to Shipshewana?
I’m willing to take that chance, Ivan thought as he forked a piece of egg into his mouth. Besides, maybe Emma will decide to remain in Arthur permanently, and I won’t have to worry about anything.
Luellen had taken a seat at the kitchen table to write Dianna another letter, when Emma entered the room.
“Good morning, Grandma,” Emma said. “How did you sleep, and how’s your back feeling?”
“I slept well,” Luellen replied. “And my back doesn’t hurt as much as it did last evening.”
“That’s good to hear.” Emma inched closer to the corner of the table. “Looks like you’re writing a letter. Is it to my mamm?”
“Jah. I like to keep her up to date on how things are going here so she doesn’t worry about us.”
“Please don’t say anything to her about me falling in the pond when I went fishing with Grandpa and Ivan.”
“Don’t you think your folks have the right to know?”
Emma shook her head. “Reading about the mishap would only cause them to worry—especially my mamm. Besides, I’m all right and no harm was done, so I don’t see any reason for my parents to know.”
“Well, I—”
“Please, Grandma, don’t say anything to my mamm about what happened on Saturday.”
“All right, since everything turned out fine, but if it had been something more serious, I would have definitely let your parents know.”
“I understand.” Emma pushed back her chair and stood. “What did you have in mind for breakfast this morning? I’ll get started on it while you finish the letter.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Luellen responded.
“Why don’t you try making buttermilk pancakes this morning?
The recipe’s written out on a 3x5 card in my recipe box, filed under Breakfast Items. Since you will be having another quilting lesson with Ida Mae this afternoon, making pancakes will count as your cooking lesson for the day. ”
“Okay. I’ll do my best, and since you’re here in the kitchen with me, I can ask questions if I need to, right?”
“Absolutely.”
Emma kept busy mixing the ingredients for the pancake batter. She made an effort to concentrate and tried not to mess up. She wanted the pancakes to turn out well.
By the time Emma had the griddle heated and was ready to begin pouring the batter out to cook the individual pancakes, Grandma had finished her letter and slid it in an envelope.
“How’s it going?” Grandma asked, coming alongside Emma.
“Pretty good, I think. At least mixing the batter went okay. Now I just have to keep from burning the pancakes or not cooking them enough.” Emma wrinkled her nose. “I just hope I’m able to flip them without making a mess.”
“It’s not really that difficult,” Grandma said.
“As the pancakes cook on one side, watch for bubbles to form on the surface. Wait until the bubbles pop and leave small holes that stay open. The edges of the pancakes should also start to look set and slightly dry.” She went to the desk for a stamp, which she licked and stuck on the envelope. “Now where was I?”
“You were telling me what to look for before flipping the pancakes over.”
“Right.” Grandma’s pointy finger went up. “Then, once you feel confident that the pancakes are ready to turn over, gently slide a spatula under each one to check the underside. If it’s a golden-brown color, flip the pancakes with the spatula and cook the other side of each one.”
Her grandmother’s instructions seemed simple enough, but Emma couldn’t ignore the quiver in her stomach. She had a tendency to mess things up, and this morning’s breakfast might be no exception.
With pursed lips, Emma turned toward Grandma. “Maybe it would help if you stood next to me to make sure I’m doing it right.”
“I’ll watch you cook and flip one pancake, and then you’ll be on your own while I set the table. Your grandfather will be in soon from doing chores in the barn, and it would be nice if breakfast is ready when he comes in so we can all eat together.”
“Okay.” Emma spooned the batter for the first pancake onto the hot griddle, and then she squeezed in two more. Watching carefully, she waited until bubbles had formed. “Are they ready to turn now?” she asked, glancing at Grandma.
“Not yet, Emma. You must wait for the bubbles to pop.”
“Oh yes, that’s right.” Emma waited for several more seconds, and then when the bubbles popped, she carefully checked the underside, then flipped each pancake over. Maybe this isn’t so hard after all.
Grandma gave Emma’s shoulder a tender squeeze.
“Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll be fine.
” She handed Emma an ovenproof pan. “I will turn the oven on low, and when you take the pancakes off the griddle, place them in here and then put the container in the oven so they will stay nice and warm.”
“All right, Grandma.” Emma drew in a few quick breaths, hoping to steady her nerves. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin this breakfast.
“These pennekuche are sure appeditlich,” Grandpa declared as he forked another pancake onto his plate. “You did well, Emma, and I think we’ve got ourselves a chef in the making.”
Emma brightened. “I’m so glad they turned out okay.”
“They’re more than okay,” Grandma interjected. “Everything about them is just right.”
“Your grandmother is correct,” Grandpa agreed. “You’ve got the makings of a fine cook, Emma.”
It wasn’t the warmth in the kitchen that caused Emma’s face to heat up. “Danki. This is the first thing I’ve made that really turned out fine, and I couldn’t have done it without Grandma’s instructions. Which I won’t have once I go home,” Emma added.
“By that time you’ll be all set,” he responded, “and ready to become someone’s fraa. Maybe Ivan’s, in fact.”
The heat Emma felt in her face generated to the rest of her body.
“You shouldn’t tease the girl like that.” Grandma poked his arm. “She and Ivan have just begun their courtship, so if and when a marriage proposal should occur, it won’t happen tomorrow.”
Grandpa shrugged. “Well, you never know—some things happen sooner than later.”
Emma’s chin dipped, and she felt a trickle of sweat roll off her forehead and onto her cheeks. This discussion was unnecessary and embarrassing.
As though sensing Emma’s discomfort, Grandma changed the subject and mentioned a work frolic that would be coming up soon to spruce up the schoolhouse and the grounds the building sat upon. Grandpa quickly joined in, and Emma felt better having a discussion focused on something other than her.
Shipshewana
Dianna hadn’t been in the kitchen very long when Rachel showed up, offering to help fix breakfast. She appeared tired, with dark creases beneath her eyes.
“I thought we’d have scrambled oier this morning,” Dianna replied. “So if you feel up to it, you can help with fixing those, or if you’d rather set the table, I’ll scramble the eggs.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll set the table.”
“No, that’s fine.”
Rachel went to the cupboard and took down three plates, which she promptly placed on the table. “Has Dad come in yet?” she asked, glancing toward the back door.
“No, but I’m sure he will be here soon.”
“When he comes in, I’d like to talk to you both about something.”
Dianna noticed her daughter’s fluttery hand movements. Rachel was obviously nervous. She was tempted to ask why but decided to let it go.
Dianna mixed the eggs with a whisk and got busy at the stove. The eggs were well cooked by the time Philip entered the kitchen.
“I’m hungerich. Is breakfast ready?” he asked.
“Yes indeed,” Dianna said. “As soon as you wash up, we can eat.”
A short time later, they were seated at the table. After silent prayer, Dianna passed her husband the platter of scrambled eggs and some sausage links she’d heated in another pan.
After taking some of each, he handed the platter to Rachel. She took a small amount and passed it on to Dianna.
“You didn’t put much on your plate, Rachel,” Philip commented. “No appetite this morning?”
“I … uh … have a question to ask you and Mom.”
Dianna gave Rachel her full attention. “What is it?”
“I’ve been thinking it would be nice if I could stay with Grandpa and Grandpa Herschberger for a while.”
Dianna’s head jerked slightly, and Philip gave an unexpected bark of laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”