Chapter 6
— chapter six
After repeating the directions over and over in her head, Jenna rode her bike to her first meeting of the Amish Widows Club.
Luckily, it wasn’t too far away, and the road she was on wasn’t crowded.
No matter how much easier it was to get around Alliance on her electric bike than with a horse and buggy, she still got nervous.
Not every car or truck passed her with care.
As she got closer, her stomach began to churn. She still wasn’t sure she was making the right decision. Jenna knew that she had to go at least once, though. She was beginning to feel more and more at loose ends when she was home.
Two things had happened to help make up her mind.
The first was that her neighbor Hannah Keim asked if Katie could come over one afternoon soon.
Hannah’s children were a touch younger than Katie, but Hannah was watching her sister’s children for the week, who were five and six years old.
Hannah had thought Katie might enjoy playing with them for a spell.
She’d even mentioned that they’d have a fun picnic in the early evening.
They were going to grill hot dogs and s’mores in their backyard.
Though Jenna thought it sounded like a lot of fun for Katie, she was still a little hesitant to accept. She didn’t know the cousins, and sometimes Katie still got a little weepy when something reminded her of her father.
However, from the moment she’d mentioned the invitation to Katie, her daughter had spoken of nothing else. Now that school was out for the summer, Katie was restless and missing her friends. Jenna was so happy to see Katie excited about the visit, she didn’t dare say no.
The second bit of encouragement came from her pen pal Laura Beth. Laura Beth was New Order Amish and was currently living with her sister in Mexico for a year while they served as missionaries.
In Jenna’s last letter to her, she’d shared some of her concerns about her future and had even gone so far as to confide that she spent most of her time alone with Katie.
Laura Beth reminded her that Jimmy wouldn’t have wanted her to become a recluse.
Then Laura Beth had written something that Jenna had taken to heart—that as wonderful-gut as pen pals were, long-distance friends on paper couldn’t take the place of real companionship.
Everyone, no matter their circumstances, needed friends to share a cup of coffee and conversation with.
Armed with those two things, Jenna had called the number on the back of the card Doreen had given her and received the information about the next meeting. Though she hadn’t needed to leave her name on the recording, Jenna had felt as if she’d made a giant step forward and couldn’t back out.
Before she could talk herself out of going, she took Katie to Hannah’s house for her playdate. She had made arrangements with her in-laws to pick up Katie afterward.
She’d hugged Katie goodbye, said a prayer, and then finally hopped on her bicycle and pedaled the three miles to Anne Yoder’s house.
Jenna knew Anne. She was a pleasant woman in her sixties who’d lost her husband during the pandemic.
The other thing Jenna knew about Anne was that she loved to go for walks.
Anne didn’t just walk to go places, she walked for her health—both spiritually and physically.
That was something that Jenna admired about her.
She hoped that she’d find more of a connection during the evening’s meeting.
She parked her bicycle near two others, then tentatively knocked on the back door, as the message on the phone had instructed.
It was immediately opened by a woman who didn’t look much older than her, and from the looks of her dress, she was Swartzentruber Amish. “Well, hello there,” she said in greeting as she blatantly looked Jenna over from head to toe. “You’re new.”
“I am. Doreen invited me to attend a meeting.”
“What’s your name?”
“It’s Jenna. Jenna Graber.”
“I’m pleased to know you. Mei nohma is Elizabeth.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Danke. I’ve always liked it as well.” After closing the door behind Jenna, she waved a hand toward the crowded room just beyond them. “Jenna Graber, welcome to the widows club. I hope and pray that you will find what you are looking for here.”
“Danke. Me too.” Feeling awkward, she lowered her voice. “What do I do now?”
“Hold on. Let me go check on something.” Elizabeth walked over to Anne and another woman who were sipping coffee out of paper cups.
Jenna watched her say something to them, the women looked Jenna’s way, and then all three approached.
Anne led the way with both of her hands outstretched. “Jenna Graber, I’m so pleased you are here, dear.”
“Me too.”
“I trust you found mei haus okay?”
“Oh, yes. I rode my bike.”
“Excellent. Come with me and we’ll get you something to drink. Do you like coffee or would you prefer water? Or”—her eyes lit up—“I also have Cherry 7-UP.”
“That sounds delicious. I’ll have the soda.”
“Great. Come on, then.” After sharing a parting glance with Elizabeth, Jenna followed the women.
“I’m Nina, by the way,” Anne’s friend said. “I’m kind of new here myself.”
“Did Doreen invite you too?”
“She sure did.” Leaning close, she whispered, “I have to tell ya, when she first appeared on my doorstep, I didn’t know what was going on.”
Jenna giggled, feeling the tension that had settled in her shoulders slowly lessen with every smile in her direction. “I felt the same way. I kept offering her coffee.”
“I did too! I guess we’re two peas in a pod, hmm?”
“Maybe so,” she joked. Nina was wearing slacks, a long-sleeved blouse, and a small prayer covering over the bun on her head. It was obvious that she wasn’t Amish. Most likely she was Mennonite.
For that reason alone, it was silly to think that they would have much in common. When one considered that Nina was likely in her seventies, it seemed even stranger. Why, Nina was almost fifty years older than Jenna.
However, for all their outward differences, Jenna could immediately tell that Nina was a kindred spirit.
Just as Anne was about to pour Jenna’s soda, she was called away by Elizabeth at the front. It seemed another newcomer had arrived.
“Oh dear,” Anne said. “Jenna, I’m sorry to leave you alone already.”
“I’ll help Jenna learn the ropes,” Nina said. “Don’t worry, Anne.”
“Yes. I will be fine,” Jenna said.
Anne shot her a smile before hurrying to the door, and Nina picked up an empty plastic cup. “You’ll have to get some of the snack mix too, Jenna. It’s delicious.”
“I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to bring anything or not.”
“No one expects new members to bring anything besides themselves. Besides, the person who hosts usually takes it upon herself to ask a couple of women to bring in treats. I brought sugar cookies the last time I was here.”
“I’ll make something next time.”
“I’m sure the hostess will appreciate it, but it really doesn’t matter if we have a lot of food or not. That’s not why all us widows gather, ain’t so?” she murmured as she poured Jenna a glass of cherry soda.
Jenna nodded.
After explaining a few more things, such as the general format of the meetings, Nina brightened. “Oh, here are two gals you will be glad you met. Jenna Graber, please meet Fern and Mary Beth.”
As introductions were made, Nina greeted another newcomer. Fern playfully curved her hand around Jenna’s elbow and led her to a grouping of seats at the end of a long table near the back of the room. “Sit with us. It’s the best seat in the house.”
With trepidation, Jenna joined them. And even though she had her soda and snack mix at hand, her stomach was in too many knots to enjoy them.
She knew the reason why, of course. This was the time when people she didn’t know very well asked about how she was doing. How she was adjusting to widowhood.
Most specifically, they scanned her expression for chinks in her armor and then asked the question that she hated to hear: How are you?
She hated that question so much.
Oh, it wasn’t the actual question she had a problem with—it was the answer she felt obligated to give.
Nothing ever seemed to be the right answer, not for her and not for the person asking the question.
People either wanted her to reassure them that she was fine and didn’t need a thing from them—that way, they wouldn’t be obligated to do it.
Or if Jenna did say that she was okay or all right, the listener would silently convey that she shouldn’t be, because Jimmy had died and she was now alone.
Of course, the real answer, the one that was in Jenna’s heart, was that she didn’t know how she felt. She was no longer grief-stricken, but she wasn’t always perfectly fine.
She was somewhere in the middle. Her moods lay somewhere in a pool of emptiness that was not altogether uncomfortable but not all that wonderful either.
“Jenna, did you hear me?” Fern asked.
She’d zoned out and ignored these kind women! Frustrated with herself, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I am afraid that I did not.”
“It is noisy in here, isn’t it? Anyway, what I asked is if you like blueberry pie.”
She had to think about it. “Jah, but it’s not my favorite,” she said honestly.
Of course, the moment the statement was out of her mouth, she winced. Why in the world had she said all that? All she had to do was say she did like blueberry pie. It wasn’t like her preferences mattered.
“Mine either!” The lines around Fern’s eyes crinkled as if she was delighted that they’d found some common ground.
“I was telling my niece yesterday that I like blueberries, blueberry compote, blueberry muffins, and even blueberry pancakes. But blueberry pie seems like a waste of a good pie crust. Do you know what I mean?”
She looked at the other women at the table. Each was looking at her but not with expectation. It was more like the ladies were sharing her confused amusement with the conversation.
It made her feel good.
“I do know what you mean,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t believe it’s ever occurred to me to bake a blueberry pie.”
“Look at that! We only just met but have discovered that we have something in common. I knew I liked you,” Fern teased with a smile.
Jenna returned the smile. Her heart was lifted, and all of her worries seemed to fade into the background. Her pen pal Laura Beth had been right. Jenna needed to spend some time, in person, with other women. She needed to chat and laugh and relax.
She needed to be around other widows too.
Those worries that always seemed to rest on her shoulders would no doubt return soon. They always did. But for now? Well, she was grateful for the small break.
She was starting to realize that everyone needed a break from their life every now and then.