Courting Cate (20 page)

All of Pete’s brothers except for John hired a driver to bring them to their parents’ house. Besides John, Bert lived
the closest at ten miles away. Others lived various places in Chautauqua County. Several of the families lived up to the north. A few lived in Pennsylvania’s Big Valley. It seemed the family liked to get around, although none as much as the youngest.

The brothers all greeted Pete warmly, and they seemed happy enough to meet me. The sisters-in-law were polite but not overly so. John was the last to arrive, alone. “Jana’s not feeling well,” he said.

I already thought it odd that I hadn’t yet met the sister-in-law who, by Esther’s account, lived the closest. And it seemed as if she would have to be quite ill not to join her husband.

Of course there were grandchildren from nearly thirty years old, older than Pete, to a three-month-old, plus all the great-grandchildren. Livy, Bert’s wife, was the biggest help in the kitchen. She was close to fifty and under her bonnet was silvery hair. She was plump and had a warm, friendly smile. For a moment we found ourselves alone, and she asked me how I was managing.

I thought perhaps Esther had told her I was making Pete sleep on the floor, but my face must have been puzzled, because she said, “You know. Living here.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“Well, we all think you’re a saint.”

“Oh?”

“Haven’t you wondered why none of us live here? Not even Jana would, even though John will soon have the farm.” She frowned. “We all had an advantage, though—we actually had the chance to meet Esther before we married into the family.”

“That’s true,” I answered.

“Well.” She patted my shoulder. “Bert and I would like to get to know you better. He’s going to talk to Pete about you
two coming over soon. Pete’s always been like a son to me, since I joined the family before he was born.”

I had noticed that Pete was hanging out more with his nephews than his siblings, except for Bert. He seemed closest with his oldest brother. Funny thing was, in all the time we’d lived with his parents, I hadn’t seen him interact at all with John. Not once. John often ate dinner with his parents, but Pete was always at the neighbors’. Then John would be gone by suppertime when Pete came home.

“What’s John’s wife like?” I asked.

Livy’s eyes grew wide. “Jana?”

“Jah.” I looked at her closely.

“Well . . .” She seemed to be stalling. “She’s nice.” She smiled.

“Do you know her well?”

“Sure. She’s been around for quite a while.”

“How long have she and John been married?”

“Oh, less than a year.”

“So they courted a long time?”

Livy pursed her lips together as if she wasn’t sure what to say. “Something like that,” she finally said.

Esther came marching through the door, interrupting us. “Time to put the rest of the food out,” she said. “Let’s get this over with.”

I couldn’t help but notice Livy’s sad look. And to think I’d seen myself as antisocial my whole life. Compared to Esther, I was top-of-the-chart outgoing.

I carried the pot of baked beans that had been in the oven all morning out to the hot-food table, which was already heaped with dishes.

Pete and his older nephews had a gunnysack race going with the school-aged children, and Esther yelled at them to
stop. The kids kept squealing until they saw their grandmother headed their way. In no time they were on their feet, the sacks wadded in their hands.

I headed to the icehouse and grabbed the first of the two big tubs of potato salad Esther had made the day before. I’d cautioned her about leaving them out too long, saying she didn’t want the mayo, homemade, of course, to go bad and poison anyone. She harrumphed and said we didn’t need to worry about that. It would all be gobbled up in no time. Then she told me to mind my own business. I answered that safety was everyone’s business, but she ignored me.

Now, after delivering them to the food table, I went back for the vinegar pies, which we’d topped with meringue. My arms were still sore from beating the egg whites.

When everyone had gathered around, Walter cleared his throat and said he wanted to say a few words.

“We’ve been so blessed,” he said. “With this farm. And our sons and daughters-in-law and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.” His eyes watered. “Haven’t we, Esther?”

She stood across the circle and dipped her head.

“God has provided everything we need, day by day.” Abruptly he lowered his head and led the silent prayer. I couldn’t keep from questioning his words by thinking of all the work that needed to be done on the farm and how their children didn’t seem to visit very often. Or how destitute the old couple seemed. I chided myself. It wasn’t right to be critical. Clearly God was meeting their needs.

“Amen,” Walter called out, and then he and Esther started dishing up their plates. After them, the mothers with the youngest children went through, then Bert and Livy. It seemed there was a prescribed order to the line—and that Pete and I were last.

Just like at a church service, the women sat at different tables than the men, except none of the women seemed very interested in me, except for Livy.

After we were done eating, as the tables were being cleared, Livy asked Pete when he knew I was the right girl for him.

“Oh my,” I quickly said, stacking the two completely empty potato salad bowls. “Don’t put him on the spot.”

“No.” Esther stood, her plate in her hand. “Do. I’d like to know.”

Bert put his arm around Pete. “We’d all like to.”

Pete tugged on his short beard and raised his eyebrows, his expression softening. “Let’s see,” he said. “I knew Cate was something the first time I met her. Her wit won me over immediately. By the time I asked her to go hiking, I was a goner. And by the time we went kayaking, I was one hundred percent sure she was the girl for me.”

He glanced at me again. Instead of the sarcastic smile I expected, his quick expression appeared sincere. “Jah,” he said, turning away and back to the others, “I guess you could say I knew that very first day.”

“Awww,” Livy said.

Esther left the table with a “harrumph.” Apparently I wasn’t the only one who knew Pete was lying—but I had no idea he’d be so good at it.

Later, as Livy and I were doing dishes in the sweltering kitchen, not wanting the topic to return to Pete and me, I asked her if Jana had come to the reunion the summer before.

“As a matter of fact, she did.” Livy added cold water from the pump to the basin of nearly boiling water.

“Where will Esther and Walter live when John takes over the farm for good?” I asked.

“Well,” Livy said, “it depends on where you and Pete are living by then.”

“Oh, we won’t be living here,” I said. “John’s getting the farm. There’s no reason for us to stay.”

Livy trailed her fingers through the water, stirring up the bubbles. “You’ve been a big help to Esther.” She leaned toward me. “She said your cooking is getting better.”

When I didn’t respond, Livy added, “She wants you to stay.”

“Oh, no,” I blurted out. “We’re going back to Lancaster. My sister will be getting married soon. Dat will help us start a business. Being here is just temporary.” I could try to emulate Queen Esther for a short while—but certainly not for a lifetime.

Livy scrubbed a plate and plunged it into the rinse water. “Have you talked to Pete? Because that’s not what Esther said this morning.”

Talking with Livy made me anxious, but she was still the best thing about the reunion.

It turned out the day of interacting with others had to last me, because it was a few more weeks, other than at services, until I saw anyone else. The dread of Esther thinking she could somehow force us to permanently live in New York weighed heavy, and the days ticked by.

About every third meal I cooked was edible, but I was growing weary of coming up with ideas day after day. I did feel as if my attempt to cook and clean and garden and get along with Esther and with Pete, as much as possible, was changing something in me, though. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was learning, but it seemed I was less uptight than I had been. And less prone to react in anger. But that didn’t take away my loneliness or the hurt inside.

I was thrilled when Pete finally said we were going to visit Bert and Livy.

“Are we going to hire a driver?”

“I thought we’d take the buggy. On the off Sunday.”

I thought of the money he’d spent for us to go hiking and kayaking. But of course he knew if it all worked out, the
local bachelors would reimburse him, and more. I admired a frugal person and was one myself, but I worried Pete might end up being a miser like his parents.

We left the farm midmorning on a hot and humid Sunday. The old horse couldn’t go fast enough to create a decent breeze, and we sweltered in the heat mile after mile.

Finally I broke the silence, asking, “When will we return to Lancaster?”

“Not sure,” was all he said.

I was expecting an invitation to Betsy’s wedding. In her last letter she said she’d send one soon. Even Nan, in a recent letter, said she was looking forward to the wedding.

I squirmed on the bench, trying to get comfortable. “We’ll go back by the time Betsy gets married, though, right?” She still hadn’t told me how she was doing, and I’d given up finding a phone to call her, finally deciding if she needed me, she’d let me know.

“Probably,” Pete said. “But I don’t know for how long.”

I nearly bolted over the front of the buggy. “You mean we’d come back here?”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“We’ve already been—”

“My Mamm likes having you here.” His mouth twitched in a near smile.

I took a deep breath and turned my head, pretending to be intent on the farm to my right. The windmill stood statue-still in the heat. A cow switched her tail in the pasture. A Plain boy and girl sat on the porch steps, both barefoot.

Finally Pete asked. “What, no argument?”

“I thought we’d be leaving—”

He didn’t allow me to finish. “How about doing what’s best for your family?”

“What family?” I crossed my arms.

We rode on in stony silence, finally turning off the main road. By the time a recently whitewashed barn and house appeared I was sticky with sweat. As we approached the porch, an old man who had been sitting in a rocking chair stood. He looked like Walter except heavier and younger.

“Uncle Wes!” Pete called out, setting the brake, jumping from the buggy, and bounding up the steps. I followed him to the porch.

It seemed too good to be true. The uncle who was in the publishing business was visiting Bert and Livy.

The man enveloped Pete in a bear hug and then slapped him on the back, hard, three times.

“And who’s this?” Wes stepped back, grinning at me.

“Cate,” Pete said.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

I blushed, dreading what was coming next. “I’m from Lancaster County.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Near Paradise.”

He nodded. “Wonderful place. Great sales around there.”

“I can imagine.” Although the tourists clogged the roads during the summer months, their spending helped support families all through Lancaster County.

He grinned. “Yep, I got into the business at the right time. Besides the books, I print a map and brochure of authentic Amish sites. It’s one of my biggest sellers.”

“Uncle Wes is in the publishing business,” Pete said.

I nodded. I remembered.

“I’ll be right back,” Pete said. “I’m going to unhitch the horse. Tell Livy I’ll be right in.”

“I’ll go with you,” Wes said to Pete. “I’ve been wanting
to talk to you for the last year.” He laughed. “You’ve been a little hard to track down.”

That was when I noticed the black car on the side of the house. It had to be Wes’s.

Uncle Wes, Bert, and Pete told one story after another during dinner. I was pretty sure, if it weren’t for Esther, that Walter would be like his brother. A kick in the pants and then some. Instead Walter was a man walking on eggshells.

Livy joined in the laughter, clearly amused. I found myself smiling and laughing a few times too.

After dinner, the men went outside to the porch while I helped Livy clean up. We chatted as we worked, of course, mostly about her children and grandchildren, who all lived nearby. Most of them were even in their district. She went down the list, describing each individual. It was clear she was a loving, doting mother and grandmother. After we’d finished, she made us iced coffees. They had a fridge and a freezer, although small, and even vanilla creamer. Their lifestyle wasn’t anywhere near as austere as Pete’s parents’.

As we sat at the table, I asked her how long they’d lived on their farm.

“Oh, thirty years now,” she said. “It belonged to my grandparents. They let us make payments to them. Pete used to come out a lot when he was little.”

I cocked my head, encouraging her to say more.

“Esther wasn’t well. We’d take him for stretches at a time. Sometimes as long as a couple of months.”

I risked asking what had been wrong with Esther. Thankfully Livy didn’t appear to mind.

“At the time I didn’t know. Looking back, though, I would
say she was depressed.” She lowered her voice. “Pete was a big surprise, if you know what I mean. It would be like me having a baby now, almost. And she’d lost a baby a few years before him. A little girl, stillborn. It broke Esther’s heart.”

I gasped.

Livy continued. “All those boys and finally a girl, only to have her die the day before she was born.”

Tears stung my eyes for Esther as I wrapped my warm hands around the ice-cold glass. How tragic.

“She poured herself into John after that. He clearly became her favorite. Not that it mattered to Bert or the older kids, but it was pretty obvious to Pete over the years. Maybe if he’d been a girl, she would have been different. But as it was, she resented him.”

Livy took a long drink of her coffee and then said, “Pete had a mind of his own from the beginning. She hated that.”

She paused for a moment, but I didn’t comment, hoping she’d say more. My waiting paid off. She lowered her voice, “He’s never said anything negative about her, though. Never complained. Not even after . . .”

“After what?”

She wadded her hands in her apron. “There I’ve gone, saying too much.” She lifted her head, catching my eye.

I shook my head, wanting her to know I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

“Pete hasn’t told you anything?”

“No.” I could say that with assurance.

“He hasn’t said anything about Jana?”

I shook my head again as an icy sensation grew in the pit of my stomach.

“She’s three years younger than Pete, but they went to
school together.” She took a deep breath. “I think I’ve had too much caffeine today. This is my third cup.”

“No,” I said, afraid she’d stop talking. “Go on.”

“Then they courted,” she said. “From the time she was seventeen or so. All of us thought they would marry. Pete worked like crazy at the dairy, but Esther and Walter took every cent he made, even after he turned twenty-one.” She drained her coffee. “Then last fall, quite a while after the annual family reunion, we heard John was interested in Jana. The next thing we knew Pete had left—it was well into October—without telling any of us good-bye.”

I took a deep breath.

“Although he did tell the bishop—said he wanted to look at other settlements. And then in December, John and Jana got married.”

I shook my head, puzzled. “What happened?”

“None of us know, but Esther told me before the wedding it was for the best, that she knew all along Jana was right for John, not Pete. And the thing was, John had always treated Pete badly. He was constantly after him right up until when he stole Jana.” Livy’s face reddened. “Not that she didn’t have a say.”

I remembered Pete saying John had always been a bit of a sneak, but it was hard for me to imagine John as mean, because he seemed so complacent, but maybe he’d stopped once he got what he wanted.

“So if Jana and Esther are so close, why don’t John and Jana live on the farm?”

“Well, that’s just it,” Livy said. “Jana and Esther had a falling-out right before the wedding. That’s when John rented the house they’re in.”

“Which is where?”

Livy gave me a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Where exactly is their home?”

She had a puzzled look on her face. “Across the highway from Jana’s grandfather’s land . . . which is next to Esther and Walter’s place. . . .”

I tried to swallow but instead I choked. The woman talking to Pete along the fence—waving at Pete from her yard—was Jana? She was the woman he had loved? And still did?

“Are you okay?” Livy put her glass on the table.

I shook my head as I tried to say, “Jah.” Instead it came out as, “Nah.” I took a drink of my coffee, but it went down the wrong pipe, and I started to cough.

Livy patted my back and said, “There, there.”

If only that could have really made everything all right.

When Pete and I left late in the afternoon, the humidity was even more oppressive. I stole a glance at Pete. His hat rested back on his head. His bangs curled a tad in the heat, and a trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face. He swiped at it and then wiped his hand on his pants.

But he hummed as he held the reins. Thinking of Livy’s story I felt compassion for him. It must have been hard for him to return to the farm. Doubly so with Jana married to John and living across the highway.

Getting away to Bert’s and seeing his uncle seemed to have lifted his spirits, though.

“Tell me about Wes,” I said, wiggling on the bench to try to get my dress unstuck from my sweaty legs, trying to put the thought of Jana out of my head.

Pete didn’t answer immediately. I sighed, certain he was giving me the silent treatment, but then he said, “I was just thinking about him, going over what we talked about.”

“Which was?”

“He has a New York City publisher interested in buying his business but keeping him on as the executive editor.”

“That’s great.” I took a deep breath. It sounded as if Uncle Wes had successfully carried out
my
dream. Maybe it was easier as a Mennonite.

“Except he wants to cut back.”

“Oh.” My brain was twirling.

“He wanted to know if I was interested.”

I sat up straight. “In working for him?” In my excitement, I thought, for a split second, that maybe we could be partners in a publishing business, that I could work alongside Pete.

“Jah.”

“And with the New York City publisher too?” I couldn’t imagine living in New York City.

Pete nodded. “Something like that.”

“Oh.” I didn’t see how that would do us any good. “What kind of books does Wes publish, besides the tourist maps and brochures?”

“School curriculum, devotionals, histories, biographies. Stuff like that for Plain people. But with more Englisch people interested in Plain topics, his distribution and sales are up.”

A car honked behind us, and Pete pulled the horse as far over on the shoulder as he could, letting the car pass. “Although the print industry is changing with electronic books, it won’t have the same impact when it comes to the Plain market.”

That sounded promising. “When did Wes leave the Amish?”

“He never joined. My grandparents became Mennonite about the same time. They were in one of those districts where almost everyone did. Dat and my Mamm had already married by then, though, and were in a new district—she wouldn’t consider leaving.”